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httpsserene · 10 months

Note

hey can I request something that’s angsty to fluff and then smut for Oscar where reader gets a ton of hate for dating Oscar so she kind of ghosts him for a bit and they figure things out

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰/𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar really just wants to hear you laugh again. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. angst. fluff. happy ending. reader is exhausted physically and mentally. reader's internal monologue is not not nice. bad eating habits. bad sleeping habit. self-deprecation. don't worry she's back on her bs at the end. reader neglects herself (?) and her relationship. implied self-sabotage. people are mean. don't worry oscar is meaner. oscar piastri is a good boyfriend. emotional hurt/comfort. tenderness. intimacy. baths and pampering. crying (non-sexy). implied sex. implied bath sex. logan and lando as plot devices. no beta we die like my will to live during finals. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5.1k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot w/ blurbs. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: best i ever had • drake

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: sorry it took me so long, i've changed this fic like multiple times :/ hope it fulfills you request properly :))) this is not my favorite thing in the world, i feel like if i went on a smaller scale i would've enjoyed this more but what can you do. this is also not very black reader coded? idk but feel like it's lacking there. i also apologize for my inability to write an oscar fic without including lando, he's such a willing plot device though even if he's a little ooc. i also couldn't find the mental space to write smut but there's smth for you at the end. dedicated to us women in stem! i hope you have fun reading this because i didn't have fun writing it :)

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oscar is worried. you haven’t responded to his texts for a week, he hasn’t seen your face for two weeks, and he hasn’t heard your voice for three weeks. four weeks ago, you told him you wouldn’t be able to fly out to see him at the austin grand prix, like you promised. you sounded exhausted and incredibly guilty when you explained that your course load this semester is extreme, and finals are rapidly approaching. oscar understood; he won’t ask you to sacrifice your education for one of his races, there will be plenty you can come to in the future. what he doesn’t understand is how you’re still functioning. it’s your senior year of university at an american ivy league school, you're pursuing an engineering degree, and you’re also working nearly five days a week as a barista. oscar thinks the last time he’s seen you relaxed is before your fall semester started, you spent your entire summer break with him, making appearances at the only three races you’ve been to this season (silverstone, hungary, and spa). the last time he recalls seeing your smile and hearing your laugh is in august—it’s the end of october now.

you’ve been ghosting him. oscar wants to believe that it’s unintentional, that it’s just a side effect of the amount of work and pressure on your shoulders—but he can’t accept that. if you were unintentionally missing his calls, facetimes, and texts, you’d spam respond to all of them with a voice message or paragraphs of texts before you went to bed or class. you would send him daily or weekly recap videos of how life is treating you, like you used to do. you would send him stupid videos of you messing around on your shifts during a pause of customers. you would send him thirty reels a day on instagram of brain dead shenanigans with little captions of how you reacted, or if you thought it would make him smile. you would send him fit checks every morning before you went to class, even though your outfit consists of a hoodie and sweatpants. you would send him tiktok edits of himself and tell him that he needs to stop being ‘so hot’ because you almost barked in the middle of class. you would ask him how he’s doing, you would respond to his texts the minute you could even if it's hours late, you would leave him voicemails if he doesn’t pick up, you would make an attempt to communicate.

except, you haven’t. so, he knows that you ignoring him is intentional, and that your lifestyle right now makes it easier for you to disguise your avoidance of him as accidental.

you didn’t say ‘i love you’ back.

“mate, what are you frowning for?” oscar jumps, eyes flying up from the phone screen and meeting lando’s. the brit is staring at him in confusion, the two of them are still in their race suits, tied around their waists. the sprint race ended an hour ago, and they’ve just finished celebrating oscar’s win.

“you’ve won a race, oscar—what could possibly make you sad after that?” lando says teasingly. but, the smile on his face is quick to fade as he must see oscar’s dejected mood.

the australian debates his next move for a moment, before deciding that telling lando isn’t a bad idea; they’ve been getting closer—they’re friends, oscar would say. he sighs, and hands his phone to lando, maybe he’ll tell oscar he’s worrying over nothing.

“oh,” lando says, eyes widening, “i’m sorry, mate.”

oscar brushes off lando’s words, and buries his face in his hands, “she’s pulling away from me. that was five days ago, and she hasn’t answered any of my calls. she’s only responded to my texts since then with one word answers or very dryly. she’s ghosting me.”

oscar feels lando fumbling for words, not needing to look at him to know that the older man has no idea how to go about reassuring oscar.

“look, mate, if it were me i’d go see her anyways.”

oscar huffs, “she literally said she doesn’t have time.”

“oscar,” lando stares at him in disbelief, “she hasn’t seen you in two months. i guarantee she’s probably dying to see you again, fuck whatever time she doesn’t have. she also can’t ghost you, if you see her face to face. you should go and try to fix whatever’s wrong, before you let her slip away.”

“maybe…maybe she’s just burnt out,” oscar suggests shakily, “i’ll go see her after the triple header–i’m probably just overreacting about this. she’ll be back to her usual self in time.”

oscar is enraged. he’s pissed off at his fans for attacking you in a sick twist of ‘defending him,’ ‘protecting him’ and the supposed ‘ownership’ they think they have over him. he’s pissed off at you deciding to ghost him instead of confiding in him about the hate you receive. he’s pissed off that his flight to you has been delayed for four hours. he’s pissed off at his race in brazil, if you can even call what happened a race. he’s pissed off at the fact that you can’t make time to see him before vegas. he’s pissed off that you lied to him about picking up extra shifts at the cafe.

he stalked through your instagram the minute after he was allowed to escape debrief, hunting down your roomates accounts from where you’ve tagged them in an older post. he innocently made a group message to the two girls, figuring it would be kind and proper to inform them of his impending arrival to surprise you. and the two girls you shared an apartment with responded eagerly to his message telling him that you’ve been extremely stressed and almost depressed this semester, and that hopefully his appearance will break through to you in a way they are unable to. oscar asked them if they knew your work schedule for the week, since you never told him when you're working–and learned that you lied. you didn’t accept any extra shifts, matter of fact, you got all of your shifts covered for the next two weeks. apparently, all you have been doing is going to class, working, studying furiously, and crying. when he asks if there’s any reason besides the stress from work and school that has you crying, the girls decline to speak for you, and strongly suggest that he asks you himself when he arrives.

oscar’s no longer pissed at you for lying to him or for ghosting him–he’s hurt, but, he already understands your motive. you don’t want to worry him, so you bottle it up and distance yourself to not make him aware of how you're struggling. he won’t let you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone anymore, he’s going to see you and he’s going to take care of you, and then he’ll sort out the ignorant people on the internet.

when he’s at your apartment, you’ll be coming home from your last shift before your time off. and then, once he has you in his arms, he can make everything right again.

your hands are shaking; a result from the mix of stress and exhaustion that has been plaguing you for a few weeks. it takes you four and a half attempts to unlock the front door to your apartment—this is an improvement, yesterday it took you six times. a trembling sigh of relief exits your lungs as you shut the front door, triple checking that you lock the door properly. you remove all of your outerwear and slip out of your shoes, half-heartedly making an attempt to neatly place them in the organizer you have by the door. (you fail to register how there’s only two pairs of shoes stored away; yours and a pair of shoes that look too big to be one of the girls you live with—the usual sneakers the girls wear are nowhere to be seen.) you grunt as you tenderly put on your backpack and slowly make your way into the kitchen, off-handedly murmuring a “hi,” in the direction of the living room since you can hear the tv playing, but you don’t even spare a glance to see which roommate it is—you can’t stomach anymore human interaction today.

your walk is more of a waddle; your legs and feet are sore from working nine-hour shifts five days in a row, and also from going to class four out of those five days. you place your backpack on the small island, and continue to gently meander towards the fridge. your stomach aches at the thought of food—which is unfortunate, considering you’ve only had one meal today. regardless, you will shove a sandwich down your throat, you need the energy if you’re going to study for three hours before you go to bed.

you pause before you open the fridge, a note is stuck on the door with a magnet. your roommates are gone; the two girls have spontaneously decided to go spend the weekend with their boyfriends—you’re not going to complain, you have the apartment to yourself. a brief wave of loneliness washes over you, you were kind of looking forward to venting about the week you had to the girls in the morning, and also, couldn’t they have texted you this earlier today? who leaves old-fashioned notes on the fridge anymore? you pull out your phone to send a text in your group chat wishing them a nice weekend, and see that they did, in fact, text you that they would be gone—three days ago. and, you never responded, because you never saw it. you shrug, and send the text anyways, you’ve been incredibly busy and you’re bound to miss a few texts (especially the eighteen texts from oscar that remain unopened).

you're just going through a little bit of a slump, and you’ve had a bad day. you accidentally messed up three orders today (out of the hundred you fulfilled, so three isn’t really terrible), your running off of four hours of sleep (you’re more energized when you sleep less, anyways), and a customer accidentally bumped into you as you were walking to bring coffee to a table, causing the hot liquid to spill and burn a little spot on the back of your hand by your thumb. well, you know it wasn’t purely accidental, as the girl giggled to the group of friends she was with after she “bumped” into you. based on the way she was wearing a mclaren hoodie, you can make several guesses as to why she did it—you’re kind of shocked that she noticed you even though you wear a mask at work (you have for about a month, too many fans have noticed who you are), her hate for a relationship that’s not hers should be studied for science.

incidents like these have made your coworkers start to…dislike you. the decrease in tips when you’re assigned to the register causes you to be forced to be hidden behind coffee machines the entire shift, only making drinks the entire nine hours you’re there. it’s better for you though, at least you can have a physical barrier blocking the prying eyes you feel are judging you the entire time. if anything, the recent atmosphere at work made you want to put in your two weeks—but, you have bills to pay. you’re just glad you managed to find a way to get two weeks off so you can focus on school and prepare for your exams—you can’t afford to fail, it’ll cost your scholarship and then you’ll need more than the job you have right now to finish school.

the buzzing of your phone pulls you back to the present—oscar’s calling. you squeeze your eyes shut for a few seconds, before you blink and silence the ringer. if you speak to him, you won’t be able to hide your troubles from him any longer; he reads you as easily as a kid’s picture book. he definitely doesn’t need to deal with your problems after whatever the hell happened in brazil. the noise of your phone startled you into a new thought, however. if the girls aren’t in the apartment, why the fuck is the tv on? who did you greet when you walked past the main room without a glance?

“i was calling to tell you that i’ve got takeout from the asian restaurant you like, if you’re looking for something to eat,” oscar says gently.

it’s a testament to how extremely exhausted you are: you don’t scream, you don’t fight, you don’t run—you just flinch slightly, and turn around slowly to face your boyfriend…the man you’ve been avoiding for nearly a month. at the sight of him (his fluffy hair, his soft sweater, the confused and concerned glint in his eyes) your lip starts quivering, and your eyes start watering. oscar’s gaze softens into something sweet yet empathic, and he says, “i know it’s been a while since we’ve last talked, but i didn’t think you’d cry at the sight of me.”

you burst into tears with a sob, and in a second oscar’s got you wrapped up in his arms, one hand soothingly massaging your back, while the other cradles your head on his shoulder. your borderline hyperventilating, your tears have started to soak his sweater, and you’re sniffling every two seconds to avoid getting snot on him too. oscar doesn’t try to quiet your tears, he doesn’t ask about what’s making you cry, he doesn’t even try to tell you that everything will be fine—he just holds you as you cry it out and presses kisses into your hair. eventually, the flow of tears dries and you focus on pulling in shaky breaths of air to calm down. oscar switches to holding you to his chest with one arm while he uses the free one to reach across the counter and grab a tissue. wordlessly, he wipes the wetness off your cheeks and under-eyes, he even uses another tissue to wipe your nose, clearing away the snot that managed to escape. you almost start crying again at the tender treatment and the matching look in his eyes, but you muster enough strength to keep the happy tears from falling over the waterline.

oscar nods once, deeming his cleanup complete, and clears his throat, “i’m going to heat up the food. then, we’ll eat and you’ll tell me what’s wrong and if that has anything to do with why you’re ignoring me.”

there’s no attempt from you to keep the façade up any longer, all you do is nod and step to the side so he can grab the food from the fridge.

oscar has already cleared his plate and you’re still picking through half of yours. the two of you are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, teen wolf is playing on a low volume, and your eyes are tunneled on the screen even though oscar can see that you’re not paying attention at all. one of the characters is screaming about having to get his arm cut off (stiles, probably) and suddenly you start talking to oscar.

“it’s been a shit semester. if i wasn’t graduating in spring, i honestly think i would’ve dropped out or taken a gap-year. and, i knew what i signed up for as an engineering major, and i knew that working was only going to add more on my plate—but, it’s not like i can quit my job, i have bills to pay. so, juggling school and work is difficult, and i was managing fine. but, i guess i made the mistake of scrolling through twitter—which is truly my fault i think—and everyone on the internet was calling me a ‘terrible girlfriend’,” oscar watches you scoff out a choked laugh, “and, i obviously didn’t believe i was. in the beginning, at least. i mean, it’s like they expected me to be at every race by your side, like i’m not working my way through a hellscape of a degree. i watched every practice session, qualifying, and race—they’re literally the only hours i don’t spend studying or working. i brag about you to everybody who would listen, i missed hours of sleep just to speak to you on the phone for five minutes, i work as hard as i can so i can finish this degree early so i can be with you as early as possible, and they say that you deserve a better girlfriend.”

you pause and rub at your eyes furiously, mouth opening and closing as you take time to find the words to continue. oscar quiets the flare of anger at your distress, and stays silent, not wanting to interrupt your speech, this is the most you’ve said to him in a month.

“the thing is: i-i i let their words get to me. i think it’s because i was being kicked while i was down—or whatever the phrase is. i was already mentally exhausted, and i already believe that i’m not doing my best this year, i’m disappointing everybody who knows me, i’m a shit student—and just seeing everybody agree, even though they’re just randoms on the internet, tore me down. i even deleted all of the apps off my phone,” your voice has shifted into something desperate, “so i couldn’t see what they were saying about me anymore, but it’s like once i saw it, it never left my mind. i feel like everybody is staring at me with condescending eyes, like they all think i’m terrible. and, logically, i know that’s probably not true. but, this semester has pushed me past the point of being able to rationalize properly. so as a result, i have become a ‘terrible girlfriend’ to you; like a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy.

“i avoid your calls, i leave you on delivered for days, i respond with one word, i lie to my friends and say i was up all night talking to you on the phone when i was really crying and studying at the same time, i hold back from bursting into tears in the middle of my shifts when one of your ‘fangirls’ spills their drink over me for the third time. and while doing all of this, i was hoping you’d do the hard part and just break up with me,” your voice rings out sharply and you refuse to look at your boyfriend, afraid to see the look on his face.

“because…” you whimper slightly, tongue flicking out to lick at your lips anxiously, “you do deserve a better girlfriend.”

oscar is lost for words at your conclusion; seeing you, one of the strongest women he knows break down, is a sight he never imagined. a sense of guilt builds within him, knowing that he’s added to the deprecating thoughts in your brain by postponing this intervention for weeks. you may think that he deserves someone better, but he hasn’t been the best to you either recently. if oscar was half the man you think he is, he would’ve never allowed you to avoid him in the first place. oscar stands up, collects your plate and his, and places them on the coffee table. he turns and drops to his knees in front of you, resting his hands on your thighs, and squeezes them gently to grab your attention. it takes a minute, but eventually you allow your eyes to fall to meet his, and oscar breaks further at the lack of light in your eyes.

“i think,” oscar starts quietly, “that you expect me to break up with you and leave—am i guessing correctly?”

you blink down at him and shrug, biting your lip to prevent it from quivering.

“i also think, that if i flew all this way to see you, and that if i listened to your heartbreaking recollection of how this semester and how the world has been incredibly unkind to you, and that if i sat here and still broke up you—it’s not me that deserves a better girlfriend; it’s you that deserves a better boyfriend.”

stunned, you stumble over your disagreement, but oscar steadfastly continues.

“you did the right thing by deleting your socials—and that would explain why all three hundred of the reels i’ve sent you have gone unseen,” he laughs lightly, “and even if their words took root, you prevented yourself from being able to see more of it every time you used your phone; so even if my pride is not needed, i am proud of you for doing that. i’m even more proud that you sat here and told me that you aren’t doing well, that you didn’t make an attempt to lie, and that i didn’t have to force you to tell me,” oscar says seriously, holding steady eye contact with you to make sure you're hearing him.

“i wish that you would have mentioned the hate you’re receiving as soon as it started, and that you would have told me your mental health was suffering too. you know i do everything in my power to avoid reading anything with my name in it unless it’s a credible article—so imagine my surprise, when i learned about what people were saying about you through a twitter thread logan, of all people texted me about,” you snort out a laugh at the feigned disdain in oscar’s voice when he mentions the american driver.

“you know i have no issues embarrassing people on the internet for their incorrect claims—and i’d especially tear them to shreds for trying to drag you down. we’ve been together too long for you not to come to me about things like this, even if it’s something that mildly upsets you—i want to know, because then i can make it better, or i can at least try to. you haven’t complained to me about the grueling lifestyle once, as i worked my way up to f1; if anybody could be perfect, it would be you. so, let me try to be as perfect as you, and support you properly and thoroughly as you finish up this degree, baby.

“we’re soulmates, aren’t we?” it’s a question, but oscar states it like a fact, “and i know i can’t magically make the self-loathing disappear with one conversation, but i'll tell you that you’re the best girlfriend i’ve ever had countless times, until you believe me unquestionably.”

oscar watches your nose scrunch cutely as you sniffle, unable to stop the tears that leak from the corners of your eyes. sweetly, he catches them with his thumb before they fall. he stands up and tugs you to your feet, pulling you into a tight, warm hug.

“i love you, kanga,” oscar coos as he kisses your forehead.

“i love you the most, roo,” you answer back, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“i’ve bought some lavender epsom salt and an embarrassing amount of bath bombs. will you let me take care of you tonight?” oscar asks quietly.

he sees the mix of awed-disbelief and confusion as you stare up at him, like you can’t imagine why he’d want to love you tenderly tonight, and that hurts him more—the words of his ‘fans’ online have done enough damage to cause you to doubt him. maybe he can convince you to come to vegas with him so he can keep you close, but first, he needs to focus on caring for you here and now.

oscar grabs his duffle bag and smiles as you hold his hand to lead him to your room and the attached bathroom (rent is ridiculously expensive, but at least you don’t have to share a bathroom with your roommates.) oscar sends you to grab pajamas while he starts filling the tub, epsom salt already poured in. he fiddles with the temperature for a while before it’s set to the boiling-your-skin-off hot you enjoy. by the time you join him in the bathroom, he’s added the salts and soap in the water and has placed the bath bombs out for you to choose one. oscar can’t help the small smile that rises to his face at the sight of the serious furrow of your brow as you pick out your favorite from the bunch.

oscar hums as you hand him the jade-infused bath bomb, and asks, “can i wash your hair too? or will it mess up your schedule?”

“i actually really need to wash it,” you murmur with a humorless chuckle, “i’ve been so busy that i haven’t been taking care of my hair properly.”

oscar blinks and continues non-judgmentally, “i’ll give you an extra scalp massage to make up for that—you can start getting undressed now, the water’s nearly ready.”

he turns around awkwardly, he’s seen you naked before but he feels like it would be slightly perverse to watch you while you’re clearly in a more sensitive state tonight. he fumbles with the faucet for a few seconds before turning it off, and drops the bath bomb into the water so it can start dispersing. oscar faces you again carefully making sure he avoids staring at your body and locks eyes with you, he beckons you forward with an outstretched hand and holds your hand as you submerge yourself in the water. once you’re settled comfortably, oscar grabs your hair products (he holds up any bottle he thinks you may not want to use tonight, and you give him a thumbs up or down to decide), and then kneels at your side.

he starts to roll up the sleeves of the hoodie but your hand halts his motions, the water splashing loudly at the quickness of your movement, “you’re not getting in with me?”

“uh,” oscar stutters, “i-i wasn’t planning on it. i just wanted to give you a nice bath.”

oscar pinkens as you stare at him wordlessly and when your unimpressed gaze shifts to a slight glare, he finds himself shedding his clothes and sinking in behind you at an impressive speed.

his heart began to race as the two of you shifted into as comfortable of a position you could achieve in a too-small tub, but calmed at your pleased hum as you settled between his legs with your back resting on his chest. this may be the most romantic experience oscar has ever indulged in. sure, it’s not a candlelit dinner at an obnoxiously expensive restaurant but, it’s him detangling your hair, it’s him massaging shampoo into your crown, it’s him scratching softly along your scalp as the deep conditioner sits, it’s you playing with the water innocently, it’s you whispering every detail of your life that he’s missed out on, it’s you gently directing him through braiding your hair, and it’s him pressing kisses to your shoulder when he finishes. there isn’t a single moment where the two of you become unsettled during lapses of silence; the intimacy of his actions is loud enough to fill the gaps. oscar can’t imagine ever being this comfortable with anybody besides you, he hates that he almost allowed you to pull completely away from him. moments like these, where you allow yourself to be thoughtlessly vulnerable with him, are exactly why he’s completely enamored with you.

your body has loosened against him, muscles syrupy and lax from the effects of a toe-curling scalp massage, and oscar gently guides you to sit upright while steadying most of your weight with a single hand splayed against your abdomen. the sound of the cap of your body wash clicking open startles you into the present, and you shift around to straddle his lap. it’s amusing; he inaudibly chuckles at the sight of you struggling to complete your change of position without sending water over the edge. you make a triumphant noise when you’ve managed to turn around to face him, and oscar’s hands cradle your hips when you rest on his lap.

“can i–”

“shouldn’t you–”

oscar bursts into laughter and you into giggles, at the interruption of each other's sentences. it’s definitely not that funny, but oscar’s heart skips a beat at the sound of your laugh–he hasn’t heard that sweet noise in what feels like forever. he motions for you to speak, ever the gentleman, and eagerly awaits for our question with a smile still stretched across his lips.

“shouldn’t you fuck me before we wash up? so we don’t have to clean up twice?”

oscar chokes on his breath, his grip on you tightening in surprise, and he babbles, “what? no-i mean, yes, i mean—wait. i didn’t do all of this just to have sex with you, you know that right? i genuinely just wanted to pamper you–”

“oscar,” you cut him off, intentionally this time around, “after the semester i’ve had, and the less than kind words i’ve heard and thoughts i’ve had describing myself–i really do appreciate the bath, i feel reminded that you love me. however, i really think that having sex would help…solidify your devotion for me.”

oscar blinks up at you, he wasn’t quite expecting you to return to your normal sassy behavior as quickly as you did. but, he is thankful that you’ve opened up to him with no further hesitation–it’s actually incredibly attractive of you, how you’ve resumed complete comfortability in expressing exactly what you want to him. at least, that’s the excuse he’s telling himself to cope with being half-hard already.

“...at least let me take you to bed, then?”

“no,” you whine down at him, your hips sneakily twitching forward, oscar moans lightly at the light grind, “too far! saves time later if we don’t have to come back to shower.”

“you’re right,” oscar hums distractedly, moving his right hand off your waist to slip between your thighs and brush along your cunt, “i’ll fuck you here as long as you let me do all of the work.”

oscar’s blood heats at the sound of your whimpering moan and he takes his other hand off your waist to grab at your chin and he pulls you down for a kiss.

oscar groans when you pause before your lips touch his, and he feels the breath of your giggle ghost over his mouth, “mmm, i’ll never say no to that—and, didn’t i agree to let you take care of me tonight?”

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz

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mockerycrow · 1 year

Text

Emergency Contact (2/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

-> PART ONE OF EMERGENCY CONTACT

Summary: You never expected Simon to come to your aid, and Simon assures you that he would come every single time.

A/N: I genuinely appreciate the support of this concept <3 I truly did not expect so many people to want a part two, so here it is! please rb with what you think, i love to hear y’all’s thoughts! i’m honestly not the happiest with this, but i did what i could. i may rewrite this in the future.

[WARNINGS: Hospital setting, fluff, hurt/comfort, medical inaccuracies, ooc Simon.]

IT TAKES YOU FOUR DAYS to wake up. Four entire days for you to even move an eye muscle. Four days of anxiety, of Simon lying in wait, waiting for sign of life. Despite the doctors’ assurances of your condition, the confirmed brain activity, Simon was panicking.

He just couldn’t lose you, too. Not when he has such a great thing going for him, so when he learns you’re in a mini coma—induced by your own body to allow your body to rest and heal, he can’t help but freak out. His mind screaming that you’ll never wake up, that you’ll always by lying in a hospital bed, until someone in your family decides to come and pull the plug. He tried to keep himself preoccupied—he read books and articles on his phone, memorized each time the nurses came in to check your vitals, he even texted Price an update about his situation—it wasn’t much information, but he said something along the lines of something happened at home and he thinks his leave with have to be for a month, but there’s a good chance it might be longer.

Simon barely left the room—he couldn’t. Not when at any moment you could wake up, or any moment you could’ve died. He didn’t manage much sleep, either. Every time he managed to fall asleep, the same nightmare would play; what he imagined how your accident went. He imagined you walking down on the sidewalk towards the crosswalk down a street you both frequented together. You were always careful when walking—he knew you were having car troubles for the last few weeks. You press the button on the crosswalk pole to trigger the lights to turn red. Cars slow to a stop, and your crosswalk signs turns to a walking man. You quickly hurry across the crosswalk, but a car comes speeding down—and smashes right into you, full speed, sending you across the road. Simon is just standing there, watching. Completely unable to help. He always wakes up once he walks up to your mangled body.

Simon gasps quietly and jolts awake again, blinking the bleariness away, and the slow beeps and exhales of your machines come back. His rapid heartbeat begins to slow as he realizes that he’s still beside your hospital bed. He looks at you—you’re no longer on a ventilator, but you have an oxygen mask, a way to help your collapsed lung. It makes him feel a bit better, but Simon would very much prefer your eyes to be open, your fingers moving against the blanket you’d likely hate the texture of when you woke up—if you woke up—and he would want to feel your muscles moving under your skin. He also tries to ignore the fear of you having Amnesia after waking up.

Simon isn’t sure when he laid his head back down, but it shoots back up the second he hears a quiet noise escape you—it’s the first sign of life to Simon, his wide eyes scanning your body. His eyes fly to your hand, your fingers twitching a bit. Simon grabs ahold of your twitching hand immediately and looks at your face and he isn’t so sure why his heart is pounding beneath his ribs, but he doesn’t have too much time to focus on it as your arm twitches. It’s like you’re slowly coming back to life in a weird way, but Simon finds himself totally silent, like he can’t find the right words to say just yet. He doesn’t mean to hold his breath, but he does as he watches your shoulder twitch next, and then your eyebrows furrow. Your eyes are already closed, but you squeeze your eyelids together harder. Simon realizes that you haven’t had your eyes open for about four days, so he quickly dims the rooms lights and returns right back next to you. Simon reaches for your hand and gently holds it, watching you slowly get your surroundings.

Your eye flutter open slowly and you blink, and it’s obvious you don’t immediately process that you’re in the hospital. A croaky moan of discomfort leaves you and Simon sits up, the worry eating at his stomach. You look at Simon with unfocused and exhausted eyes and your eyebrows furrow again and your lips part.

“..Simon?”

He releases the breath he was holding and he nods, his black mask slightly moving as his lips move. “I’m right here, [name]. Right here.” Simon absolutely hates how shaky his voice is, and he watches you bit your lip as your eyes begin to fill with tears. His heart skips a beat—what’s wrong? Are you in pain? Are you scared? Simon decides he needs to know because he can fix it, he can help you, right? He needs to fix it—“Y.. You came for me..” You whisper, blinking a tear rolls down your cheek to your jaw quickly. Simon’s own eyebrows furrowed—did you think he wouldn’t? “Of course I did, love.” He murmurs, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I will always come for you.” You try to hold in the quiet sob, but your shoulders begin to shake. Simon reaches up and gently wipes away a tear with his thumb while he squeezes your hand. “No tears now, hm? You’ve.. You’ve survived the impossible.” Simon says, forcing his voice to be steady. His eyes begin to burn with his own set of tears forming. “I came as soon as I heard, [name]. Don’t ever think I wouldn’t come for you.“

Your lower lip curls as you try to not cry from his sentiment; this is the man who took you in after losing everything, and it took him a long while to even let you know of his actual name, let alone see his face unmasked. This is the man who does not tell you the details of his job, but you know that he could be killed from it. This is the man who sits next to you near his windowsill when you both can’t sleep—the man who wakes up, just knowing something is up. He makes you a cup of your favorite morning drink whenever he can, he signs his sticky notes with a poorly drawn skull instead of his name, he makes piss poor dad and army type jokes, annoys you with his cockiness and bought you a damn mattress and bed-frame—even thought he never had to. He remembers the little things about you, your favorite shows and games—your favorite books, your favorite foods, hell, he remembers every little awful story about your workplace and your job. He’s always been like a wild animal—you come too close and he flees, but if you’re patient do what he needs, he’ll come to you.

Simon blinks away the tears and he clears his throat, his voice hesitant as he speaks. “You made me your emergency contact.” His tone isn’t questioning or warbling in any way—he says it like a statement, a fact, which it is. You laugh quietly which quickly turns into a grimace, causing Simon’s thumb to stop moving over your knuckles for a moment. Of course any movement or sound would hurt. “I.. I had to put one down, I just.. put the first person who came to mind.. Y’know?” You murmured nervously. Simon’s breath hitches for a moment and he only responds with a “mmh” for the time being, which definitely makes you way more nervous than you started out to feel. Your heart monitor spikes for a moment, causing Simon to speak up. “Hey—just relax, okay? M’not mad, love. Not mad at all,” He begins. He glances away from you for a moment before looking back with such a vulnerable look—like he’ll break at any moment. “It was just.. a surprise. That’s all.” But both of you know it was more than just a surprise. It was a small declaration of prioritizing each other—you setting him as the first person to be notified for an emergency, and his acceptance of this role. Simon never thought he would be sitting here, beside anyone else than his teammates in a hospital setting.

Simon isn’t sure when he fell in love with you. Whether it was the first moment he laid eyes on you or way later down the road—he doesn’t know. What he does know is that this.. feeling, isn’t as scary as it used to be. People getting close to him used to terrify him and it still does—but.. there’s something about you. Something about you that makes Simon feel safe. Makes him feel like he doesn’t have to sit in the corner to watch the entire room, you make him feel like he doesn’t have to sleep with a hunting knife stashed under his pillow. You make him feel like he doesn’t have to question your motives with anything you do, you make Simon feel like he can just sit down and relax without having to worry about, well.. anything else besides from the question of what you’ll have for dinner that night. He tries to hold in the shuddery breath and when he can’t, his eyes dart away to your arm. You open your lips to speak again, but you begin to cough. Simon grabs the paper cup of water that has a straw in it that he’s prepared for you everyday just in case you had woken up and he slots the straw between your lips, which you greedily accept and drink down the cold water. It soothes the ache in your throat from being on the ventilator and from not speaking for a couple of days. Once you’re satisfied, he places the cup back on the side table. “Hey, Si,” You croak, your fingers weakly squeezing his hand. Simon’s eyes immediately meet yours again, searching for any hint of pain. You lick your lips, a light smile coming to them. “Two blondes walk into a bar. You’d think one of ‘em would’ve seen it.” He stares at you for a moment, his eyebrows raising. “Did.. Did you just..” You laugh weakly and nod, looking at him. “I did.” You clear your throat again and squeeze his fingers. “Did it because you’re in your head.. Don’t hafta think so.. so much when you’re with me, Simon.”

Simon brushes his thumb over your knuckles once again and he can’t help but silently agree—he doesn’t have to think about anything right now, he can just sit here, with you—even if it’s in a place like this, with you in a condition like that. Simon looks at you and you look back at him, into his soul—and for the first time, he doesn’t want to look away.

taglist;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja @cumikering @silent-neptune @purechaosss @hauntedpass @mxtokko @meimhem [crossed out = not able to tag sorry!]

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suosgirl · 3 months

Text

Keeping It Cute (& Dangerous) - Hayato Suo x Reader | Ch. 3

Word Count: 4100

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. Haruka Sakura, Akihiko Nirei, Taiga Tsugeura, Mitsuki Kiryu

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, f!reader, manga spoilers (?), ooc (?), loss of loved one, violence, panic attack, breakdown, slowburn, knives, stabbing, blood/bleeding, broken bones, harassment, survivor's guilt, misunderstandings, fighting, grief, swearing, ptsd – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: I wasn't feeling the original image because I really want this fic to feel real – so, updated it so it looks like a manga panel (˶˃⤙˂˶) Also, remember when I said this would be 4 parts? I lied, haha. Definitely will be longer (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

୨ৎ Keeping it Cute (& Dangerous) Masterlist

“Bunny,” he repeats himself – simple and matter-of-factly. “That’s not my name.” “But you’re just so cute –” Your nose scrunches up at his words, and he laughs as he claps his hands. “Oh! See, you are a bunny!”

This was a situation that you did NOT have on your bingo card.

Sat in between Kiryu, whose name you had just learned, and Tsugeura, whose name you had also just learned, you found yourself cursing the universe for the streak of bad luck that just kept coming.

(They had originally all sat across from you, something you were thankful for – but when you had excused yourself to use the restroom, they thought nothing of it until they saw you fly past the shop windows.

Sakura and Nirei had to drag you back.

You blame your weakness for puppy dog eyes.

… Fun Fact: Nirei was really good at doing puppy dog eyes.)

You just couldn’t understand it – you had apologized for what you did, and they had told you that you did nothing wrong, so why were you still here?

And also – nothing erases the fact that they’re all still so good-looking. Especially Suo.

Ugh, even his name was pretty. So pretty, in fact, that you couldn’t stop repeating it in your head.

You could still feel the ghost of his hand on your shoulder and the warmth of his breath on your ear.

Bunny…

Is that what he thought of you? A harmless, dainty little ball of fur? You’re irritated at the mere idea of being compared to such a powerless animal.

For goodness sake, you had fractured a man’s hand – bunnies don’t do that.

What’s worse – he had continued to call you that stupid nickname the whole walk here. You had ignored him, of course, but it seems that only fueled him more, because he hasn’t let up on the name since then.

How can someone so handsome be so aggravating?

You’re brought out of your thoughts by the sound of a poorly veiled excuse of a cough, and you see that they’re all looking at you expectantly.

“Oh – I’m sorry! Did you say something?”

Sakura lets out a sharp tsk, no doubt still annoyed about earlier, before responding to you.

“We were askin’ for your name.”

Oh.

You don’t mean to, really, but you let out a laugh. It bubbles out of you, unrefined and uncontained, because the situation in its entirety is just so ridiculous. Of course you hadn’t introduced yourself to them because you didn’t think you’d still be talking to them. Or rather, that they’d still be talking to you.

Once your laughter dies down and you’re wiping the stray tears from your eyes, you quickly apologize and introduce yourself.

It’s silent for a second, and then Suo hums and you eye him warily.

“I think I like bunny better,” he concludes, smiling at you.

You shake your head, before correcting him with a forced smile of your own.

“Bunny,” he repeats himself – simple and matter-of-factly.

“That’s not my name.”

“But you’re just so cute –”

Your nose scrunches up at his words, and he laughs as he claps his hands.

“Oh! See, you are a bunny!”

Suddenly, you don’t like him anymore.

You turn to Kiryu, even though you barely know him, because you need support and validation and he looks like the type to run to your aid in times of need. He’s already looking down at you, his eyes thoughtful and sensible and you’re sure that he’ll be the one to put an end to this endless teasing. He’s so reliable, you think. And handsome. And Kind. But now he’s smirking at you and you’re not sure why –

“Kitten! You look like a kitten right now~”

You almost flip the table. Keyword: almost. You are, after all, just a girl – but girls don’t flip tables. No matter how irritated they are. And you know what? You pride yourself on how poised and collected you are in the face of hardship. You are resolute – unbreakable. This is child’s play.

“I don’t think you’re anything like that –” Tsugeura chimes in, and you’re so glad that someone finally sees you for who you are.

Perhaps… perhaps Tsugeura was way more emotionally aware and attuned to others' feelings than you had first thought. You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, and suddenly, Tsegeura is just so dreamy and handsome and –

“– you’re more like a banana! Banana is my favorite protein flavor, the other fla-”

You slide your hands under the table.

First, you were going to flip this shit. Then, you were going to rock their shit.

“I-I think you’re really cool … and strong!” Nirei interrupts your silent rampage, and you feel the anger dissipate from your body.

You decide then that Nirei is your favorite one from the group, and you grant him a smile – because kindness is supposed to be met with even more kindness. And he was kind, and cute, and sweet, and –

“But … I feel like I’ve heard your name before… I just can’t remember where…,” he mutters, and you watch him pull out a small notebook from his jacket.

You feel your skin prickle at his words, and you quickly ask Kiryu what he’s looking at.

“Ah – he collects information about people –”

Kiryu’s still talking, but you tune him out.

If people from this town knew who your brother was, then you weren’t safe here either.

You watch Nirei flip through his notebook in earnest, and your hands start to get clammy. You had to leave. Whether he found the information he was looking for or not, you didn’t want to stay to find out. You decide that you had entertained them long enough, and it’s when you start to slowly push your chair back that Nirei finds what he’s looking for.

“Aha! I knew your name sounded familiar!” he’s beaming at you as he says your brother's name, and you don’t have it in your heart to ask him to stop.

But then – he’s naming things about your brother like his height and his preferences and his shoe size and you can’t stop the way your eyes are starting to water or the way your hands softly inch towards to stop him.

And everyone’s so enraptured in Nirei’s storytelling, so intrigued by the rumors of your brother and the rumors of you, that no one notices.

It’s only when you gently pull the notebook from his hands that he stops. You’re not mad. Really.

You’re just –

…

You don’t know how you feel.

Through blurry eyes, you skim over the page and you’re surprised at how accurate everything is – but, you find one flaw.

One stupid flaw that you wish wasn’t real, but it was, and reality hurts.

“You need to add that he passed away a year ago,” you say before clumsily handing the notebook back to him – your eyes glued to your lap.

The table falls silent, and you don’t want to look up. You don’t want to look any of them in their eyes or see their expressions of remorse or guilt because, honestly, they didn’t know.

But… But to hang your head low in your brother’s memory was shameful. He deserved to be remembered with your head held high – a smile on your face and pride in your voice. That’s the type of person he was.

“My brother –” you take a deep breath, willing your voice to stop shaking and your hands to stop fidgeting. Kiryu’s hand is on your back, comforting and sweet, and you know that he’s silently telling you not to push yourself – but you press on.

If your brother were here right now, he’d tease you endlessly about how small and frail you look.

But then… he’d flick your forehead and tell you to straighten your spine – because addressing your feelings and your fears head-on is the only way to get stronger.

“He was the one that taught me that I could wear whatever I want, do whatever I want, and be whoever I want – because I’m strong enough to back it up. He made sure of that.”

“He was really famous in our town… Maybe that’s why you’ve heard of him? He protected everyone, just like you guys, and he had this thing he would do where he would call himself –”

“The LION…,” Nirei joins in quietly with you, and you let out a small laugh as you nod.

“Yeah, my brother was the lion and I was the tiger. He was really into stuff like that – said it made us sound cool and intimidating and whatnot. He even had everyone call us that too and I used to hate it because it was so cheesy, but somewhere down the road, it grew on me.”

You’re smiling now, but it isn’t reaching your eyes. You’re trying, though, and they can see that.

“When I fight …,” you pause, and flashbacks start running through your mind.

You remember all the fighting, all the banter, and all the lessons. He was such a flashy person, always trying to take on 15 people at a time just to show how strong he was. But … he was strong. Stupidly strong, and so so smart. He had the mind of a tactician – always planning, always thinking. His strategies rarely failed, and if they did, he took it in stride with a smile on his face and a chip on his shoulder.

“... I feel like he’s right there beside me, giving me pointers on what I could do better and telling me not to mess up my hair too much.”

You missed him – terribly. But, life goes on.

The days pass by, the seasons change, and in some miraculous way – you begin healing.

“I think about him everyday,” you admit, “he was my best friend, my role model, and I knew him like the back of my hand. You’re doing his life’s work, too – and that’s something to be incredibly proud of.”

You look up at them, and though your tears have subsided, there’s still an ache in your chest that you know will only get lighter with time.

“How?”

You flinch at the question, and everyone is quick to scold Sakura but he continues –

“He sounded pretty damn strong, so what happened?”

The question makes sense. Your brother was strong, so how did he, of all people, get killed?

You know that you, yourself, are also an enigma – so you get where he’s coming from. You had moved to Makochi with trauma and issues and history, and it still wasn’t clear if you were a threat or not. It just hurts, you suppose, being perceived like this.

You purse your lips, not because you’re angry at Sakura, but because you’re angry at what you’re about to say.

This part always stung the most.

“My brother… he was well known, even outside of our town, for ending fights and saving people. He was a hero – the town’s hero. But because of his reputation, we had more and more people moving in, and a lot of them had emotional baggage. They –”

Your hands start shaking again, and you have to force yourself to calm down.

“They didn’t know this, and it isn’t their fault, but because of so many people seeking refuge with us, gangs from out of town were putting a target on me and my brother.”

Your breathing is coming out ragged now, and you can feel your body start to heat up with pure anger.

Kiryu’s hand is on your back again, and you’re so grateful for the way it grounds you enough to continue speaking.

“The night that my brother died, he was by himself. We didn’t know that the gangs had reached out to one another to create some sort of compromise, but if we had, then maybe things would be different.”

“I don’t … I don’t know exactly what happened, but when they found him, he was on the outskirts of town with 50 bodies laid out around him and 20 stab wounds… He could’ve been saved, but he lost too much blood because he just kept fighting.”

“I was supposed to be with him that night, but I had a stupid little cold and he told me to stay home and rest. Can you believe that? I was at home, with soup and cough medicine and a runny nose, while my brother was out there dying, and I –”

You don’t realize you’re gasping for air until they’re all telling you to stop, and you finally notice the hot tears running down your face.

Your body stills, and then – you’re quiet.

It takes everything in you to just breathe.

You’re stuck like that for what feels like forever before you’re able to start releasing the tension in your body, but your heart is still racing and your mind is still reeling and –

Sakura breaks the silence.

“... They’re cowards – you don’t bring knives to a fistfight,” he states, plain and simple, and the rest of them are waiting with bated breath and worried eyes as you look up at him and –

You laugh. It’s a bitter laugh, but it’s something, and you see their shoulders drop with relief.

Slowly, your heart returns to a steady rhythm and you’re sure that you’re probably looking a lot better because Kiryu is softly asking where you’re from.

You hesitate, but the name of your hometown falls from your lips – and so do their faces.

“That’s –,” Nirei starts, but Sakura cuts him off.

“Whaddya doin’ all the way over here, then?”

You pause.

“I’m protecting my town – same as you.”

“That … doesn’t seem like much protection – ”

“They're still looking for me – the hit that night was for both of us. They only want me. The town is safe because I’m not there.”

You’re met with silence, and you take that as a queue to wrap this whole thing up. You’ve said far too much than you’d like to admit, and you don’t want to get attached to these feelings and these people and this town.

This was fun. Handsome boys always make good company. But, the sooner you get this over with, the sooner you can move on.

So, you bring your hands together with a soft clap, grabbing their attention as you smile at them.

You drone on about how, despite this being a great fun experience, it’s getting late and you really oughta head back to your apartment now. You’re thanking them for listening to you and for being so nice and caring, but you’ve already taken up so much of their time and you couldn’t possibly keep them out for longer.

You honestly, genuinely think you’re doing pretty good.

What you don’t count on, though, is that they’re getting familiar with your smiles. They’re starting to catch on to which ones are real and which ones aren’t – and the smile you’re giving them now is so guarded and forced and fake that they’re already standing up before you finish your little spiel.

You deflate at their reaction. You weren’t even done.

Sighing, you go to grab your bag before standing up – and they’re quick to gather around until they’re blocking you with their bodies.

“You’re not thinking about leaving town, are you?”

“Of course not! Goodness, why would you even think that?”

You laugh, light and friendly, before trying to step around them. They block you again.

“Look, I’m tired and I want to go home. Please please please let me go home,” you plead, desperate to finally be alone.

“If we visit you tomorrow, you’ll still be there? You won’t be gone?”

You smile again, but your eyes are starting to twitch and your patience is running thin.

“Yes yes yes – I promise I’ll still be there tomorrow.”

What a fucking liar, they think.

You, on the other hand, are getting frustrated because usually nosy people end it at the first question. You’re not at all used to whatever this is, and you’re starting to get worried that perhaps they got too attached to you.

“We’ll walk you home –”

“No need! It’s really not that far!”

Your facade is cracking now, and you’re starting to get antsy. This was too much attention, too much care, and you hadn’t experienced this much clinginess in so long.

Why couldn’t they be more like other towns, who didn’t so much as bat an eyelash when you left because you had caused fights and problems and violence?

“How will we know where to go tomorrow then?”

“Oh – good question! Here, pull out your phones and I’ll give you my contact information.”

They immediately do as you say, but when they look up, you’re fucking gone – halfway out the door by the time they realize it.

You’re booking it, running as fast as you can through alleyways and sharp corners before they even get a clue of where you are.

You’re smiling, pleased with yourself because you won and boys are just so easy.

Finally, you can unwind from the disastrous day you’ve just had and wallow in self-pity and embarrassment to your heart's con–

You run into something hard and firm and tall and handsome and – shit.

Suo’s got his arms wrapped around your waist, strong and secure, and though he’s smiling, you can see how furious he is by the way he’s pressing his lips together.

“It seems my sweet little bunny just keeps getting away.”

You bristle at his words, and for a split second, you consider flipping him out of your way, but his fingers lightly press into your body as a warning and –

“Okay fine, you’ve caught me. Are you happy now?”

You hate how breathless you sound in his arms, but he, on the other hand, is absolutely thrilled. Whether it’s because of your pathetic surrender or because you’re so damn close, you’re not sure.

You place your hands on his chest because, if you’re going to let yourself be held captive by him you might as well enjoy it, and you feel the tiniest flex of his body under your fingertips.

Oh.

Alright – fine. Two can play at this game.

You tilt your head to look up at him, and in the prettiest voice you can muster, you say — “You’re being so mean, Suo.”

All he does is hum at your words, and you flush at the lack of response.

Never… never again.

Maybe you should flip him. It wouldn’t hurt, you think, to get one good jab in. Make him really remember you before you’re gone.

“I honestly think you’re being the mean one here.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he continues.

“If you think leaving is the best thing for you to do right now, then I’ll let you go.”

He drops his arms, and you shiver. You’re not sure if it’s from the breeze or the weight of his words, but you instinctively wrap your hands around yourself.

“You can go to the next town, and then the next one, and then the next one, until you’ve run out of land – and I won’t stop you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you look away from his stare. You can’t do this, can’t listen to this, it hurts and your chest is tight and –

“Or, you can stay here a little while longer. You can get to know the town, know the people, and you could find something worth staying and protecting again.”

You're stepping away from him now, your eyes clenched and your hands shaking.

For a year, you’ve had whispers of your brother's voice, sure, and the occasional casual friendships from town to town, but you’ve never ever been spoken to quite like this. You didn’t know words could bruise you like this. You didn’t know the truth could sear into your skin and burn.

You didn’t give anyone the chance to confront you, never stayed long enough to make it worth it, but here he was – stern and honest and real.

You’re scared – no, terrified at the idea that someone like him could see right through you. That he could see through your facade. That he cared enough to say all of this. That he cared enough to try.

You don’t … know what to do. You’re at a crossroads, and although you’d been in this town for a couple of weeks now, this was the first time you were seeing it for what it truly is.

And you’re not sure if you can love another town the way you loved your hometown. You can’t get attached or comfortable — can't stay in one place for too long. You don’t know what could happen to the people here. What if they find you? What happens then? You shouldn’t risk it, a voice rings through your head.

Yeah, yeah you shouldn’t –

Another voice, so quiet and soft that you wouldn’t have even noticed it if you hadn’t been thinking so hard echoes out.

Try. Hope. Trust. Believe. Protect.

You fear that you’re losing your mind, the words so outlandish and foreign that you can’t remember the last time they’ve ever left your mouth.

But then – you remember earlier. The girl you helped. The girl you protected. The protection that Bofurin offered to you. The hope in her eyes. The trust in their eyes. The trust in you.

And suddenly, you’re crying. It’s not a burst, nor is it hot to the touch. It’s a slow, mesmerizing trickle of tears shining with intention and meaning and feelings and you don’t make a move to bottle it up.

Suo sees this, and his lips press together before he continues.

“You’re not alone here… you’re safe.”

He knows.

He knows that it’s important for you to make this decision yourself.

Suo was an observer – he had waited for you to slip up, to show your true self. He couldn’t trust you, not yet. His friends were much more kind, much more optimistic than he was – but he had his doubts.

He watched you with his full attention as you told your story. He saw the way that you caved in on yourself. He witnessed the path of destruction that you were following with a naked eye and a blind heart.

And when you had apologized on your knees for such a small misunderstanding, how could he have stopped himself from helping you up and easing your anxiety?

You had made him concerned. So concerned, in fact, that he saw right through your little trick back at Pothos, and the minute you had bolted, he was already out the door and hot on your trail.

Besides – how could you, someone from out of town, know the streets better than him?

He had chased you twice now.

He doesn’t dwell on this realization too much.

But, if you truly decided it was best for you to leave, he wouldn’t stop you. He was a man of his word, and although deep in his heart he knows you’d be so much happier and safer if you stayed in Makochi, well, he wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if he didn’t respect your wishes.

So he stands there with his hands clasped behind his back, and he waits, and he hopes.

And although you're silent, he can tell you’re reaching some sort of an epiphany because you’re still here. You haven’t run away. You haven’t disappeared.

It isn’t until you’re looking up at him that Suo finally lets out the breath he’d unconsciously been holding in this whole time, but he needs to make sure —

He stares into your eyes for a brief second before visibly relaxing.

Ah. There it is.

Your eyes… They have color again.

It was such a small detail when he first noticed it earlier – back when he had first laid his eye on you.

Your eyes had been blank – they were blank when you were staring at them, blank when you crushed that man’s hand, blank when he had pulled you up from the ground.

But then, when you were holding hands with that girl and reminiscing about your brother, he saw it – brief and fleeting and pretty.

Your eyes, when they’re full of life and hope, are so very pretty.

Your lips are moving, but Suo hasn’t got a clue what you’ve said, and it’s his turn to get flustered now because getting distracted like this is so very unlike him.

“Hm? Sorry bunny – I didn’t quite catch that.”

You pout, his eyes dropping to the way your bottom lip juts out – and now you’ve got his attention. He wishes he was a stronger man, truly.

“I said –,” you pause, the nickname causing your face to warm up and the tips of your ears to bloom a lovely shade of pink, “... I said I’ll stay.”

୨ৎ Chapter 4

#melody writes (& never stops)#wind breaker #hayato suo #suo hayato #suo hayato x reader #wind breaker (satoru nii)#hayato suo x reader #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker x reader

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wandixx · 7 months

Text

Ghost of fries and Hero of cookies part 2

All work words count: 14 593

Words in this part: 1 794

Summary of whole work: Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay Or Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of local hero? And he looked like he needed bad day combo anyway

This part summary: Of new names and teasing

Beta read by @audhumla-sailor though English is second language for both of us, so proceed with this in mind. I also know all of the charaters through fics alone, so probably ooc. Stay catious if it's something you don't like

First part

Duke knew that Dani was in their agreed meeting point, he even vaguely knew where she was floating but not much more. She used her invisibility, which was weird since she knew it didn't work correctly on him. It was fifth time they met, of course they knew.

"Hey Signal, remember how you said that I need a codename if we're going to hang out in future and that all my previous ideas were horrible names?" a disembodied girly voice asked. Duke smiled. Ever since he raised the idea, the girl would come up with ridiculous names to be called, proposing them with absolutely straight face. It was expected from someone who thought Dani Phantom was a good alias. It didn't make her ideas any less amusing.

"Of course I do. Whatcha got for me today?"

"Alright, since you don't let me be a name stealer, I decided to take a sheet from local nightlife's notebook–"

"You mean take a leaf from their book?" He was sure she was rolling her eyes on him, but it didn't stop him. No one could maim English language like that with him around.

"Whatever. I chose to steal their idea and became a bird. It's only fair since I can actually fly!"

"Can't exactly disagree. So, what did you get this time?"

"You'll like that, I promise. But now, I introduce to you…"

Duke got ready to shut down every Robin iteration and all Birdgirls he could think of.

"HOOPOE!" Dani yelled, popping back to the visible spectrum. She was covered in bright orange cape with weirdly shaped hood and flimsy mask "I even did some costume changes to fit the name better–" in all honesty, one, yeah, he wasn't blind he realized, two, he needed a moment to remember how these birds looked (his first thought was 'wait it's a thing?!'). But then he got it and yeah, those were funny little creatures, just like Dani. It fitted her "–so even if you don't like it, it doesn't matter," she added, sticking her tongue out.

Duke patted her on the head. He was there, he knew it mattered.

"It's a great name Hoopoe"

Dani visibly though probably unconsciously, relaxed. Her mouth curved into a proud grin and her aura brightened. Normal auras didn't do that. He got used to Dani surprising him like that sometimes.

"Of course it's great, I made it."

Duke chose to not remind her about almost two dozen times she came up with absolutely not great names or about the fact that technically she didn't quite make this one either. He wasn't in such a petty mood. Maybe in future if he needed blackmail.

Oh, it was such a Bat thing, wasn't it? He needed to spend some more time with his civilian to get it out of himself, he liked his ability to interact with normal people in a healthy way.

"Wait, is your mask a paper?"

"What else could it be, titanium?"

"If you stop three muggings on the next three patrols each I'll get you a better one, okay?"

"Hey, my mask is perfectly fine"

"Yeah, but it can tear too easily. I can get you a mask that is more sturdy."

"Aha."

"It's the same material every Robin and Nightwing wear…"

"Don't care, my mask is flawless"

"..."

"Okay, better mask would be cool"

***

On the third patrol Dani joined, about a week and a half ago, they exchanged numbers. Duke knew how hard it was to come to terms with new powers on one's own and God strike him with a lightning or something if he ever lets anyone go through similar bullshit. Especially since she didn't seem to have anyone taking care of her. Girl her age shouldn't be able to hang out or respond to messages within ten minutes at any given time. Only twice she didn't do that, because she was on a celebrity hunt for autographs as she later explained. He would be teased endlessly if any Wayne or their associate learned about it, but he considered introducing Dani to Bruce. She needed help, okay?! He didn't inherit adoption tendencies.

But he hadn't done that, partially because he didn't want to scare Dani off and partially because of fear of teasing. And bet. Because of course in the meantime somehow there happened a bet.

He smirked at the video Dani sent as a response to the hydration check. She was tossing a coin and playing an elimination game to pick one juice from eight drinks she had. Steph jumped over the back of the couch to join him. At the start she was in front of him so to do that she had to run around the furniture but such minor inconveniences couldn't even wish to stop her dramatics.

"You're smiling at your phone ergo you either text your secret girlfriend/boyfriend/enbyfriend or watch memes. Show me the memes," she demanded, nudging him in the arm. Duke chuckled.

"Wrong guess. I'm texting my sidekick," they agreed it would be a funny way to introduce Dani to people who asked. Duke tried his best at this whole having sidekick thing anyway. As well as he could without help from other Bats because of this damn bet.

Steph froze for a moment.

"Your what–"

"And the lucky winner is… an apple with mint juice! Damn I really hoped it would be lemonade," Dani from the video announced cheerfully before opening the bottle" Shame it didn't make it past semi-finals. Happy hydration break. I'm going on an autograph hunt so I may not respond for the next two hours or so. Wish me luck, bye~"

Duke paused the video before it replayed. He glanced at Steph who finally rebooted.

"How come you got a kid and I learned about it just now?"

“In my defense I'm like 60% sure you're the second person in the family to learn about her. Depends if Tim got his ‘I have to know everything, gotta check body cams’ paranoid spree in the last two weeks or not. There was no teasing from Babs or anyone else if I'm being honest and no lecture from B, so they have no idea.”

“First was Alfred?”

“First was Alfred. I still don't know how.”

“That's our grandtler for you. You are forgiven but you have to tell me everything about her,” Steph demanded excitedly. “And show me the photos''

Duke snorted.

“She goes by Hoopoe and is about Damian's age. She can tell you her real name when B inevitably finds out and tries to interrogate her.”

“What if Spoiler drops by during the day?”

“You can try but give it another week and a day, okay?”

“Why?”

“We have bet that I'll hide her from B for three weeks. Tomorrow is the end of the second week. We both know how he is, he'll have questions if you randomly show up during the day."

"Stakes?"

"Speedster worth of winners favorite Batburger meal, 2 quarts of chosen drink and cookies"

"Valid. I ain't snitch, but I want to know more. Is she a meta?”

"Yeah. Powers I know of are invisibility, intangibility, superspeed, enhanced hearing and flight. Probably more. I think she already had some training with it because she has quite amazing control over this stuff. Like, it comes naturally to her. But her hand to hand is atrocious."

"Are you jealous?"

"No."

"Omg, you totally are! Don't be, she is just a baby with a better idea of what's going on with her powers than you have with yours. There is nothing to be mad about Duke, it's okay Duke–"

"Keep going and I won't tell you anything about her," he dared, trying not to snort.

"Sorry, sorry, you're doing great, please continue," she nudged his arm again "Don't be such softie, dude" He stared at her at the comment, disbelief clear on his face. Steph at least then looked a little ashamed "Okay, sorry. You're honestly doing far better than any of us would. Excluding Cass and Alfred."

"Excluding Cass and Alfred," he agreed easily enough.

"So, you think your kid has some training with her powers," she recalled eagerly.

"Yeah, probably from when she was helping her cousin. He is a hero in Amity Park, Illinois, his name is Phantom. It took very little digging even though Hoopoe does her best to stay mysterious. I swear this kid has no brain-mouth filter. But! I got my second shovel talk from her cousin!”

“The what?”

“After a week of hanging out with her, I got message on Signal’s twitter from Phantom that basically read as ‘I have nothing against you, really dude I’m a fan but here is list of my most powerful enemies, and let me tell you, there were some scarily powerful guys there, I won with all of them, if something bad happens to Hoopoe I can and will destroy you.’ After some research, yes, I think he could try and have considerable chance of success. Even if he didn’t fight would be painful enough to be a lesson. He and Hoopoe have the same powers and she worked with him for some time. She most likely learned then. She was called Dani Phantom, boy went by Danny Phantom then”

“Dear gods, their aliases were so horrible, who even let them go with it?! Are those their first names?!” Steph sounded genuinely offended by it.

“I don’t know,” Yeah, he knew, but he preferred to keep at least this secret to himself ”In boy's defense, because Hoopoe came much later, he was fourteen and Amity went to shit really fast, so alias was probably not his first concern. And it’s much better than Invioso-bill, name he was given by the press. And he uses some intense gaslighting to make people believe it’s just Phantom now. And allegedly they’re both ghosts. Apparently ghosts don’t exactly have secret identity”

“You doubt it”

“You would too. She eats, she breathes and she is tangible by default. From what I know, ghosts don’t do that”

“They don’t, I checked. I went on a research spree when I first learned about Deadman. I just thought it was so cool you know. Ghosts being real and all,” Steph leaned towards him, almost vibrating with anticipation.

“Really?” he asked, knowing what he was getting into.

“Yeah, you see…”

And on she went, releasing expected infodump as if she waited for this opportunity ever since she first read about it.

********

Some additional name getting shenanigans

Signal: I won't call you Dani in the field

Dani: Why?

Signal: Ever heard of secret identity? Name is, like, half of it. Disguise is other half but it can be exchanged with lore. Superman made it work. Just make up enough lore for people to not question it.

Dani: Oh, okay *gremlin^2 mode activated*

Random they just rescued: And who are you little one?

Dani: *looking them dead in the eyes* I am clone of dead child hero, travelling around the world to find identity separated from my template befre mistakes made during my creation make me turn into puddle of primordal liquid and my conciousness fades forever

Random: *petrified* What?

Signal: *internally* I have miscalculated

Dani: Kid Signal

Signal: No.

Dani: It works in Central

Signal: We're not in Central

Dani: Signalgirl

Dani: I mean, Batgirl exists

Signal: No.

Dani: Monochromatic Signal. Y'know, Red Robin route?

Signal: ...

Signal: Just no. Don't make my name part of your name

Next part

Do you want to see some Hoopoe doodles I made? There were redesigns!!!

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dp x dc #dani hangs out with duke #signal got new sidekick and he doesn't even know it yet #not fully at least #Dani: *barerly visible over the counter* Where can I find books about orange birds?#Babs: *gives her directions*#Babs: Why do I feel like it was significant encounter?#Dani's cape was in fact a blanket #wandixx writes #ghost of fries and hero of cookies #have a nice day dear stranger who got to this part

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sena-shi · 2 years

Text

Protector of Teyvat (a troll hell-bent on reviving everyone just for fun) P—3

Isekai’d reader who is hell-bent on reviving everyone using your cheat code as the protector of Teyvat. With great power comes great benefits! Teyvat population stonks

Note: asmoday is the unknown god, reader also grants gnosis and visions, isekai, slight sagau in the future chapters, op reader

Summary: You are just a regular human being living your best life on Earth, collecting husbandos and waifus in Genshin Impact when all of a sudden you were isekai'd to Teyvat, but not as a traveler, a creator, or an NPC. You are a very close friend of both Celestia and the Unknown God, who is known as the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles. You also hold a very important position of the highest order because unbeknownst to the general populace, you are the Protector of Teyvat from the outside forces.

And so imagine the Archon's faces when their dead friends suddenly came back to life just so they can accompany you together with Aether and Paimon on a journey to spit on the Celestia's face

Timeline in Teyvat when you got transmigrated: Before any wars happened. Zhongli is probably sucking on a dragon pacifier or something if that even exists.

Warning: curse words, slight ooc, lore flying over the ocean and going for a swim, author removed the lore from the irminsul so act like you know nothing of it, i'm putting the lore in the cheese grater

“As what I am trying to say, Lady Y/N… is quite… a peculiar person.”

Jean sighed and scratched her temples, beginning to feel stressed. "Stop going in circles and get to the point, Kaeya."

About half an hour has passed since Kaeya first started talking, and it does not seem like he is going to get straight to the point any time soon.

Paimon flew closer to you, who was visibly bored as you sat on a chair, whispering into your ears.

“Paimon thinks you broke him...”

You folded your arms and looked at the man who had been struggling to explain for about ten minutes with a quiet chuckle. His eyes met yours, and he instantly averted his gaze, an embarrassed expression on his face.

And even Lisa, who is standing next to Jean, has been staring at you for quite some time. Her gaze was strong despite the pleasant smile on her face.

“You flatter me, Captain Kaeya.”

Jean arched an eyebrow at you, seemingly perplexed.

“After all, I am just a normal human being trying to make a living.”

She blinked, trying to process everything that is going on. If you're only something like a traveling merchant, why is Kaeya acting as if he's forced to sing praises about you?

The entire room fell silent, and all eyes were fixed on you.

With a straight face, you answered calmly, "I sell visions and use fried eggs to resurrect the dead.”

The room fell into an awkward silence as Kaeya coughed so loudly that he flopped down on the ground and decided to become one with the floor.

"This is quite a change of events," Lisa said with a beautiful frown as she glanced at Kaeya, who was suffering in silence.

Jean shook her head in utter confusion as she pointed at Kaeya, "Just why is he acting like this...?"

“Oh!” Paimon exclaimed in realization of Jean's question. She rubbed the side of her head then stroke her chin, as if she didn't know how to explain everything.

“Uhm— uh… Paimon's not sure who this Crepus guy is, but when Y/N threw a fried egg somewhere, he poof out of the ground and insisted on going to his son instead of joining us to meet you here.”

"He even wanted Kaeya to come along, but this man had already left before we realized it!" Paimon yelled and pointed towards Kaeya.

Jean raised a brow in confusion, and Paimon spoke once again, "It’s not Paimon’s fault, I swear! He suddenly appeared, and Kaeya looked like he had seen a ghost... Paimon is guessing that he is someone important that Y/N randomly brought back to life to scold Kaeya for touching her."

“Oh, my archons…”

Lisa turned to stare at Jean, her eyes wide with confusion.

“If I know… Crepus is Master Diluc’s father.”

Lisa gasped, and Kaeya seemed to be dead with his face plastered to the ground.

“Oh?” You shrugged your shoulders, glancing out the window, unconcerned with what was going on around you.

Jean sighed, obviously disturbed. "How is this even possible? I'm sure even the archons can't—"

“Lady Y/N is not an archon…”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite follow, Kaeya.”

“Lady Y/N is someone who is much higher than the archons…”

Lisa appeared to be captivated with the new knowledge and immediately turned to gaze at you with amazement. You, on the other hand, paid no attention to her and continued to stare out the window absentmindedly.

Will Timmie make a great archon?

What if I give Timmie a Pyro Vision to roast his pigeons?

If I revive little floatie’s friend, will I have two little Venti?

But what if little floatie's friend starts to feel embarrassed when he sees the huge statue that looks like him standing in the middle of Mondstadt?

If I slap Dain with a fried egg to remove the curse, will he get mad? I’m pretty sure I’d lose my arm before my hand can even come close…

“Someone… higher than the archons?” Jean mumbled to herself.

Paimon huffed, placing her hands on her hips and said confidently, "She is the Protector after all!"

Lisa's eyes twinkled with delight and respect at the new revelation. Back in Akademiya, she unintentionally read a forbidden book about Teyvat's Protector. It was believed to have been authored by the first Dendro Archon, but the book has since been lost or stolen.

There are no other records of you save for that single book, which she is keeping so discreetly that she even went to Mondstadt to keep it safe, despite the fact that the book has reduced her lifespan in half. But unexpectedly, the book mysteriously vanished.

It was recorded that the God of Wisdom has only encountered you once, when they had ascended one of the seven seats, and there were no more chances of meeting you again because you've been protecting Teyvat in the shadows. You've been keeping Teyvat so safe that you have no time to even mingle with them.

"However, I have a sneaking suspicion that the Celestia is trying to keep her highness away from the seven archons, particularly the Anemo Archon,” — this was one of the numerous lines written by the God of Wisdom that Lisa will never forget having to read.

It was only a one-time meeting, but it was described that all the archons were overjoyed to catch a glimpse of you. There must not be any records preserved or knowledge of you because doing so will provoke the heavenly principles. It's most likely that this is the reason why Sumeru was dealt such a devastating blow back then. And with such a wealth of information, Lisa is left wondering why she is still alive.

And now that the two of you even have the chance to meet, she considers herself to be one of the fortunate people in Teyvat to have the opportunity to speak with you face to face.

Jean cast a quick glance in the direction of the librarian, who has all of a sudden adopted a new attitude towards you. Now that she's thinking about it, she's curious to find out what information the librarian has about you.

"...before we came to the headquarters, there were at least three or four citizens who had been granted with a vision.” Kaeya shuddered.

“Kaeya’s speaking the truth! Even Paimon has lost count already! At this point, the entire Mondstadt could be dubbed as the nation of vision holders!”

Paimon's voice jolted you out of your daze, prompting you to respond, "...I thought we'd keep that a secret."

“Oh— right! Paimon’s sorry!”

You laughed, softly waiving your hands as a sign that everything was fine. You looked at Jean, who was suddenly staring at you with such reverence that she seemed to want to grovel before you.

You smiled at her. “Anyways, are we done here?”

"Ah, yes," Jean said awkwardly, looking over at Aether, who was staring at you attentively, "About the storm terror attack."

"Y/N and the Anemo Archon supported me," Aether said with a blank expression and a shrug of his shoulders.

“Oh goodness… you’re traveling with the protector and even met the Anemo Archon?” Lisa asked, her mouth slightly wide in surprise.

“Anemo Archon, Anemo Archon, ah— my little floatie is just so adorable. Maybe I should travel the worlds with him after resigning…” You muttered to yourself.

Aether and the other people in the room have all of a sudden become alerted, and their attention is focused on you. Even Kaeya suddenly straightened his posture, only to see you staring peacefully outside the windows.

After resigning!? Travel alone with the Anemo Archon!? Jealous, jealous, jealous—

The voices of Celestia and Asmoday can be heard wailing somewhere in the distance in the sky. They are most likely devising a plot to put you behind bars at this very moment.

It shouldn't come as a surprise if the Anemo Archon suddenly have a club of haters.

You started humming a tune as you became aware of the peaceful atmosphere that was beginning to arise.

You snorted and mockingly said, "Oh? What exactly am I seeing? We've barely known each other for a day, and you're already obsessed with me?"

They all choked in embarrassment, turning away to hide their flushed cheeks.

You cocked your head to the side, amused, as they all began babbling silly reasons just to cover themselves up.

“W—well, it’s not everyday that you get to meet someone like— like—”

“Paimon thinks Y/N feels comfy to be around! Paimon’s not obsessed at all!”

Aether quickly agreed with a nod.

“Right, right, alright. If you people are still interested in discussing the stormterror attack, then I'll just leave you to it,” You gave them a soft smile as you floated right up from your seat and waved your hand before making the decision to vanish with a poof in order to bestow even more visions and cause more chaos.

"Don't look for me, I'm going to meet someone," They heard your voice echoing inside their thoughts, and it made them feel even greater animosity towards the person you are talking about.

“We don’t even want to talk about stormterror attack anymore!”

"…sigh. I wanted to listen more of her voice," Lisa grumbled, and Jean feels the same.

“She must’ve felt uncomfortable, she doesn’t want people talking about her after all.” Aether clicked his tongue in displeasure before running out the room with Paimon to find you.

"Just how am I going to explain everything to Diluc?" Kaeya chuckled bitterly as he slumped tiredly in the chair.

Thank the Gods you got away before they could get their paws on you. But it doesn't mean they won't pursue you.

“Woah! The birds are flocking to you!" Timmie talked happily, obviously amazed as he watched you almost completely covered in birds as you leaned on the parapet to watch the water race by.

"They're rather... heavy." You whispered, attempting to remain still while the birds that usually flew away at the sight of people treated you like a tree.

"Oh yeah! You're like God!"

You gave him a small grin as you looked down at him. "What makes you think that?"

“Well, I've heard stories about Lord Barbatos being so close to birds that he'd even fly alongside them! You're exactly like him!”

The birds chirped happily, rubbing their heads against your cheek as if they wanted to be complimented.

You snorted, trying to image Barbatos flying alongside the birds. You could say that your mind created a pretty humorous image.

Venti sat on top of the statue of the Anemo Archon, blushing profusely at what the wind had relayed to him. He's too sober enough to listen to your conversation, and he wishes he'd gone straight to the tavern to get drunk instead of stalking you.

But he wouldn't pass up an opportunity to see you.

"You seem to love pigeons a lot; do you wish to fly with them as well?"

“Yeah… I believe it would be cool, and maybe I'll be able to find daddy..."

You agreed with a little nod, calmly watching the river flow gently while Timmie stares in awe at how the sun rays were focused towards you, creating a lovely scene.

"Who knows, maybe you'll be reunited with your father soon," You spoke while remaining motionless in your position and gazing at the rushing river.

Timmie nodded, little relieved by your remarks. He has always waited, and he will never get tired of waiting.

“Hm?”

“What is it?”

You ignored Timmie as you cast a glance at the gates, sensing that at least four or five individuals were approaching you.

"I'm afraid our little bonding has to come to an end here."

Timmie pouted and mumbled cutely, "But me and my pigeons like you."

You amusedly ruffled his hair as you giggled at his antics.

"How about you come to me when you're lonely?" You smiled as you took his hands in your own and placed a glowing Anemo vision in his palm.

And then maybe when someone tries to hurt your pigeons, you can airbend the shit out of their lungs.

Timmie gaped, his gaze drawn to the vision in his hands and your bright, smiling face. He began stammering, his brain attempting to absorb everything that was happening at the moment.

Oh my god— oh my god— was all he could think of.

“Lady Y/N!” Jean and the others said in unison.

"See you soon," you said quietly, ignoring the people who were approaching you at an incredible pace, giving Timmie one last pat on the head before disappearing to slap someone with a fried egg somewhere else.

Because seriously, why is everyone so clingy to you when it comes to you? Can't a protector have a little peace in their lives?

Timmie stood motionless, a vision in his hands while his mind went haywire.

Daddy, daddy, I think I just met a God!

“Protecto—”

Before they even had a chance to finish their sentence, a fried egg came flying at them at a high rate of speed, and the runny egg yolk came splattering into their face.

You mumbled something under your breath while opening your eyes with a weary expression and blinking several times in an effort to clear the haze from your vision. They just can't seem to give you some space, even if it's just for a moment, can they not? You're literally trying to get some sleep!

The abyss mage who had just been smacked by a fried egg started to emit light as though the curse was in the process of being broken. Something shattered inside of their soul as they shed the last bit of monstrosity that had clung onto them for hundreds of years.

You found a comfortable position on the grass and leaned back against the tree. And off to the side of your vision, you can make out a woman with blond hair who is dressed in white and blue.

You fixed your attention on her, and by the expression on her face, you could see how genuinely surprised she was by what she had witnessed. Her eyes gleamed with much interest and reverence as they locked onto yours.

You immediately felt an inside sigh of frustration when you realize that you’re going to have another traveler who will try to cling onto you.

Lumine suddenly stepped up, and her voice is just as endearing as that of her twin brother.

"It is an honor to meet our savior," she said. It was a display of respect, but you are too sharp to even believe those words. You are their savior, but that does not imply that they are obligated to treat you with the utmost respect.

You responded with a faint hum as you quickly pulled an abyss mage close to you to use as a pillow, unaware to the jealous stares that Lumine was giving you.

“Are you here to meet with your twin?”

“I am not… ready to face him,” Lumine whispered softly while her face distorted into an agonized expression, as if she were thinking back on the times she spent with her twin brother.

"Help him with Dvalin," you said, your cheek resting on the back of your hand. You almost laughed when you saw her slightly frown at you. They were the ones that made Dvalin act like that, thus they should be the ones to clean up their mess.

“But—”

"I'm posing as your twin's guide right now, and if this storm terror problem isn't fixed by the end of the week, how am I meant to leave Mondstadt to search for and save the people of your nation?"

"I absolutely want to retire, sigh..." you mumbled, squeezing the abyss mage's cheeks in frustration.

"I suppose you have a point," Lumine answered, nodding her head in understanding. Maybe she can even take a break and check how her twin brother is doing in this world.

"Wonderful, you finally understand!" You replied enthusiastically, and your smile is so dazzling that Lumine feels like she's staring directly into the sun.

"Then, after cleaning up the mess that Celestia made, the two of you can leave Teyvat and continue on your journey."

“Perhaps after you've completed your journey in this world, I can go get some wine, retire, eh... maybe mingle with the humans and spend time with Venti, and...” You started rambling, not noticing how Lumine's face darkened at your words, suggesting that they should leave this world and continue their journey in another.

And Venti? That Barbatos? Lumine fumed whilst you are clueless that your little floatie had earned another hater.

And what if she refuses to leave? What if she desires to know more about you? What if Aether and her decide to bring you along with them on their journey across the worlds?

Far above in the clouds, the Celestia added another name to one of their most hated lists.

Barbatos

Archons

Travelers

You coughed and paused, embarrassed to disclose your life plans after retiring. Lumine, on the other hand, appears to be listening attentively, as though unconcerned with the fact that you're essentially begging them to leave.

Sighing heavily, you decided to put your plan of slapping them with a fried egg in the back of your mind and work on properly removing their curse.

Lumine kept an eye on you, observing how sincere you've become in your treatment of her allies. As your look became more serious, your hand smoothly glided to touch them without even a trace of revulsion.

Perhaps the unknown God isn’t going to be the one who will trap them in this world this time. Maybe you will be the new reason, and she will willingly stay just to uncover your mystery.

Aether, my twin brother, how about we postpone our journey for a while? Surely you felt the same way when you first met her?

sumimasorry for the late update, I was busy crying over my artifact substat and made a kazuscara ff instead

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bold users can't be tagged, idk why ;m;

well anyways, after this I'm going to hide, make fried eggs, and do my forgotten comms

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thefloorisbalaclava · 2 years

Text

a first time for everything

▸pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader x john 'soap' mactavish ▸words: 3,841 ▸warnings: threesome, unprotected sex, praise kink, size kink, slight choking, oral sex (f receiving), spit as lube, anal play, anal sex, double penetration ▸summary: you, ghost, and soap have a small celebration that leads to confessions and so much more. ▸a/n: this has been on my mind for a while. i don't particularly like how this turned out, but hopefully someone out there does. sorry if either of our boys seem ooc. i tried my best.

👻[masterlist]👻

You sat quietly between the two large men that were practically sandwiching you. They did it on purpose. These two always knew what they were doing when it came to you.

It only took one slip-up to make your size kink known to them; since then, they have found ways to tease you here and there. You weren’t really shocked by Johnny; he was always the prankster. But Simon—he completely took you by surprise.

You looked at him from the corner of your eye, and he was already looking back. It frustrated you that you could never tell what was going on under that balaclava—was he smirking, pouting, biting his lip?

Biting his lip…

He nudged you with his large thigh, and you looked at him fully. Was he purposely manspreading even more just to get a rise out of you?

When you turned to Soap, he was beaming. You were wearing some of the bulkiest gear, yet he still found a way to trail his eyes up and down your body that made you feel naked.

“Pervert!” you said over the com, and he chuckled.

“Takes one to know one, lass. Don’t it, Lt?”

Simon looked at Soap, then at you. “No comment.”

That low rasp had you fidgeting in your seat. “I’m gonna stand,” you told them before pulling yourself up and looking out the helicopter’s open door. It made your head spin, but you needed the air.

“You okay?” Ghost asked. Both he and Soap knew about your fear of flying.

“Yup. Gotta be,” you responded over the comms so you wouldn’t have to turn your head to speak.

“Almost there. Hang in there for us, yeah?”

You nodded and hoped he saw it.

You couldn’t step off the helo fast enough. You closed your eyes, took a few deep breaths, and thanked whoever was listening for the feeling of the ground beneath your feet.

Both men joined you, once again taking their positions on either side of you.

“Here.” Soap offered you some of his water. You were about to point out that you had your own, but you didn’t want to turn him down.

“Thanks.”

He watched as you drank, noticing the drop that escaped your lips and dripped down your chin.

“Oops,” you said before gingerly wiping it away innocently. If you could read minds, you would know that innocence was the last thing on Johnny’s mind.

“Stop gawkin’ at her, mate,” Ghost scolded, punching Soap on the shoulder.

“I wasn’t gawkin’.” He rolled his eyes and took his canteen back.

“Don’t start, boys,” you said before leaving them behind.

“What say we celebrate tonight,” Soap suggested, and you immediately shook your head.

“No,” Ghost said with finality.

“What? Why?” Soap asked.

“We all know that your way of celebrating ends in you drinking too much and embarrassing yourself, then one of us has to take care of you the next morning,” you reminded him.

“If I promise not to drink…too much,” he added, “Can we please just have a little fun?”

You looked at Ghost, and he gave you one nod. “Fine,” you sighed.

“If you pass out, I’m leavin’ you where you lie. I’m tired of carryin’ you,” Ghost said.

“I really need to get out of this gear. It’s starting to get heavy,” you said, already working on the buckles of your tac vest.

“What a tease,” Soap mumbled.

“Whatever. I’ll see you guys later.” You waved and walked off, feeling their eyes on you with every step.

“Who’s gawkin’ now?” Soap asked Ghost with a chuckle.

You all met up in Soap’s room. You lounged on his bed, resting against the headboard while he sat down by your feet. Ghost sat on a chair that he moved closer to the bed.

Soap made you laugh non-stop, and you even heard Ghost chuckle once or twice. You looked over at him, and he seemed a little different. Maybe it was because he had removed the other mask he wore and changed into his balaclava. It was softer, and you could see more of his features.

“Are you listening to me?” Soap asked, grabbing your leg. “Or are you just looking at our dreamy Lieutenant?”

“Shut up,” both you and Ghost said.

“Hey, I got an idea. Simon…take off the mask,” Soap said, and you shook your head.

“Negative,” he said. You figured.

“Come on, mate. The lass wants to see ya.” Soap patted your bottom, and you swatted his hand away.

“Don’t pin this on me. I am fine with just seeing his eyes,” you said, looking back at Ghost.

“Boringggg,” Soap complained.

“Hey, eyes can tell you a lot about a person.”

“She’s right,” Simon agreed, and you smiled smugly at Soap.

“Besides, they might just be my favorite part of the body,” you added.

“Bullshit. Eyes? Really?” Soap scoffed.

“Yes! I can only imagine your favorite body part,” you snapped.

“Ass. Lt. likes boobs,” Soap tattled.

“What?” you giggled.

“Yeah. That time we went to that titty bar….”

Your eyes widened as you looked at Ghost amusedly. He shook his head.

“That’s not…” he started.

“Most of them were afraid of him because of that thing.” Soap pointed at Ghost’s mask.

“Afraid?” You looked at him.

“You ain’t afraid of me, are you?” he asked playfully.

“Never, sir.” You continued looking at him, tilting your head. “How do you kiss while wearing the balaclava?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I just…pull it up,” he told you, “…Not that I’ve been kissing much lately. Just…” His words trailed off.

“Oooo…someone wants to kiss Simon,” Soap teased.

You only shrugged, and Ghost looked at you. “I’m sure he has some kissable lips under there.”

“Show her, Simon. Go on,” Soap urged.

“Leave it—” you started, then froze when you realized Ghost was reaching up. “You don’t have to, Simon….”

But he didn’t stop, and the balaclava began to reveal his neck… chin…and lips.

“Close your mouth before a fly gets in there, doll,” Soap teased.

“What?” You were still staring at Ghost.

“I think you broke her, Simon,” Soap snickered.

“Nah, she can take a lot more than that,” he said.

“Fuck,” you said quietly. “I mean…um…” You needed to look away, but you couldn’t.

You could finally pull your eyes away from Simon, only to turn to Johnny, meeting his eye. His gorgeous eyes.

“You both…are troublemakers.” It was all you could think of saying.

“What? I didn’t do anything…this time,” Johnny said. “Blame Simon every once in a while.”

You looked at one of them and then at the other. “Would you both call yourselves good kissers?” you asked.

“I sure hope I am,” Soap said.

Ghost only shrugged, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Let her tell you if you are,” Soap suggested. “Kiss her, Lt.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, MacTavish,” you scoffed.

“She has to come over here for me to do that,” Ghost said, taking you by surprise.

“Oh, um…you serious?” you asked.

“Come over here, and I’ll show you if I am or not.” There was a sort of amused tone in his voice.

You stood and cleared your throat before making your way to the chair he was sitting in.

“Holy shit,” Soap said excitedly.

You stood between Ghost’s legs and looked down at him. This would probably be the only time looking down at him would be possible. You leaned in, hesitated as your noses touched, and kissed him. Immediately, it felt like the air was knocked out of your lungs. It was a gentle and cautious kiss.

He knew what he was doing.

When you pulled away, your eyes stayed on him, and he licked his lips.

“Well, is he a good kisser?” Soap asked, pulling you from your daze.

“Y-Yeah,” you stammered.

“What about me?” he asked.

“How would I know?” you teased.

Ghost was still looking at you, your kiss lingering on his lips.

“You could kiss me too, you know,” Soap said.

“Are you two always like this?” you wondered.

“Don’t change the subject. I want a kiss, too,” Soap whined.

“You’re such a brat,” you joked.

“He is,” Ghost added. “Go on. Give him his kiss,” he said. You looked at him, and he nodded before adding, “That’s an order, love.”

Your knees almost gave out at that, but you stood steadily and then walked over to Soap, who had sat up excitedly. He looked at you with puppy dog eyes, although you knew he was nowhere near innocent.

“Get over here, lass.” He yanked you closer, and you giggled before his lips touched yours. “Damn,” he whispered against your lips before deepening the kiss.

“Easy now, Johnny. Don’t suck her face off,” Ghost joked.

Soap pulled away. “If I do, we’ll just get her a cool-lookin’ mask like yours.”

“I…can’t believe I just did that,” you said, bringing a hand to your mouth.

“What?” Ghost asked.

“Kissed both of you…does that make things weird?” you pondered.

“Why would it?” Soap asked. “Hell, I say it’s about fuckin’ time.”

“Really?” You sat on the bed again, both men still looking at you.

“We’re all adults here, and I can admit that I’ve imagined doing more than just kissin’ you,” Soap confessed.

You looked at Ghost, who scratched at his chin. You never expect many words from him. “I know it’s wrong,” Simon started, “But doin’ what’s right ain’t always the solution.”

“Wait…why is it wrong?” Soap asked.

“He’s our superior, Johnny,” you told him before looking at Ghost again. “But all choices have consequences.”

He looked at you, eyes full of awe and something else. “Someone’s been listenin’.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I guess the question is, are we all willin’ to face those consequences if they happen to arise.”

“You know I am,” Soap answered without hesitation.

You shrugged. “Yeah, I mean….”

“You gotta be sure, love,” Ghost prompted.

“It’s truly not the consequences from higher-ups I’m worried about,” you told them. “I’m more concerned about how you two will see me when and if this does happen. I like our friendship and how close we all are. I don’t want it to get all fucked up just because we’re horny.”

“You don’t think it’ll bring us…closer?” Soap asked, and both you and Ghost threw him a look. “What?”

“Okay, well, I’m just gonna flat out ask you both: have you always wanted to fuck me?” You waited for an answer.

“Johnny talked about wantin’ to get in your pants about a week after getting to know you,” Ghost said.

“Simon! That was supposed to stay between us,” he scolded. You giggled, then turned to Ghost.

“And you?”

“Lass, you should see how he looks at you when you’re not looking,” Soap blurted. “The man wants to eat you alive…in a good way.”

“I could’ve told her that myself,” Ghost growled.

“You started it,” Soap retorted.

“Okay, okay, boys. Down.” Surprisingly, they both stopped and looked at you. “Have either ever done something like this before?”

“Sex?” Soap asked, and you rolled your eyes.

“You know what I mean. You boys don’t mind…sharing?”

“I don’t if you don’t mind being shared,” Ghost said quietly.

“Simon.” You looked at him, shocked.

“The man is quiet, but I swear he’s filthier than me,” Soap said. “Now, I’m gonna ask you, lass, do you want both of us?”

“Honestly? I’ve dreamt about it,” you confessed.

“Ha! You hear that, Lt.? She’s been havin’ dreams about us,” Soap said proudly.

Both men watched as you poured yourself a shot and downed it quickly.

“So…we doing this?” you asked.

“Up to you,” Ghost said. “One request, though.”

“What’s that, sir?”

“I want you to take your clothes off. Nice and slow,” he said, pulling the balaclava back down over his lips. You missed them already.

“Is that an order, sir?” you asked innocently.

“It is.”

Soap could hardly contain his excitement while Ghost, well, it was hard to tell. You wish you could because it would be such a turn-on to know that he was just as turned on by you.

You were sure to look him in the eye as you began undressing. Soap stood and walked over to where Ghost was sitting.

“What a fuckin’ treat,” Soap murmured but was quickly hushed by Ghost.

“Shut the fuck up, Johnny. Just use your eyes.” Ghost leaned forward again, and you swear his eyes could burn a hole in you. It made you feel sexy.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Soap whispered as you let your jeans fall to your ankles.

Ghost stood suddenly, and you looked up at him as he walked over to you. You loved the way he towered over you.

“Lie down for us, love,” he said, and you slowly backed up towards the bed as he followed.

When you were finally lying down, both men climbed onto the bed—Ghost on the left, Soap on the right.

“Wait…” you gasped, and both men froze in place. “I don’t have to call you Ghost and Soap, do I?”

“Call me Simon, love. Or sir, if you prefer.”

“And I’m just John or Johnny. Scream it if you need to, lass.”

“Okay,” you breathed. Then John kissed you as Simon surveyed your body with his big hands. You could feel him pulling the straps of your bra down your shoulders. You were going to sit up so he could unclasp it, but at the speed of light, he had yanked it off you like it was made of paper. You gasped into John’s mouth but didn’t stop kissing him.

Simon’s hands continued moving down your body, stopping at your panties. This time, he waited for you to lift your hips so he could pull them off slowly.

John finally pulled himself away from your lips and noticed that you were completely naked, thanks to Simon.

“Good lord in heaven. You can’t be real,” he said, his Scottish brogue like music to your ears.

Simon was silent, staring down at you, and you realized he had pushed his balaclava up over his nose again. He wanted to kiss you again. He leaned in close, his nose touching yours as you looked into each other’s eyes.

When he finally kissed you, you moaned into it, and he did too. The sound of his moan sent pleasant chills through your body. His tongue dipped into your mouth just as John’s tongue lathed at your nipple. You arched off the bed and whimpered against Simon’s lips. These men were already sending you into a feeling of overstimulation, and you loved every moment.

One of your hands found the back of Simon’s neck, and the other found John’s mohawk. You held both men in place—one against your lips and one against your breasts.

John pulled away eventually, pulling your face away from Simon’s kiss so he could claim your lips. The men traded places, and now Simon’s lips were wrapped around your nipple.

Somehow, both men had the same idea—moving their hands between your legs, fighting for a place to put their fingers. You couldn’t tell whose fingers were whose; you just knew that someone was rubbing your clit and someone’s fingers were prodding at your entrance.

“Fuck me,” you whimpered, and someone’s fingers were stretching you on cue. When John finally pulled away from your lips, you could look down and find both men had their fingers inside you. You cried out and looked at both men as they fucked you with their fingers.

“You want more than our fingers, don’t you?” John asked, and you nodded. “Let us taste you first, hm?”

“Yeah,” you whined. You thought that meant John would be going first, but Simon kissed his way down your body and found his way between your legs. As Simon slowly dragged his tongue against your clit, John's fingers were still inside you.

“Fuck…you guys…” you moaned.

“I think Lt. wants you to cum,” Soap said before sucking on your nipple. “Think you can do that for him?”

“Yeah,” you cried. You couldn’t believe this was happening. It was overwhelming in the best way possible.

“D-Don’t stop! Ah, fuck. Just like that!”

John captured your lips again, and you had no choice but to cry out into the kiss. For a man who kept his lips covered most of the time, he sure had no trouble using them.

“Hey, Lt, she’s gettin’ there. I can feel it.”

They both worked you into one of the best orgasms you had ever had. Your body trembled and jerked as Simon drank you down, and John kept his fingers slipping in and out of you.

“All right, Simon, my turn for a taste,” John said, and Simon finally pulled away.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said. “Tell me, love, anyone ever fuck your ass?”

“No,” you whined.

“Well, I’m about to,” he said, lying down and helping you straddle him with your back facing him. He pushed you forward so that you were bent over on him. You could hear him wetting his fingers and then spitting on them before slipping them up and down your ass, spreading the cheeks for better access.

He slid one finger into you slowly, easing his way in. The tight muscle pulsed around his finger, wanting to push against it.

“Relax,” he said, placing a comforting hand on your lower back. “There you are.”

He kept a careful and slow pace for now, only adding a finger when he was sure you were ready for another. You nearly begged him to put them back when he pulled them out.

“You stay relaxed for me, all right, love?” he cooed in a voice you had never heard him use before. Then you felt something prodding at your ass, and it was certainly more than a finger this time. He had slicked himself up with spit and his precum.

“Mmm, Simon…” you whimpered, looking back at him. The tip of his cock pushed past the tight ring of muscle, and you gasped.

“The hardest part is done, love,” he reassured you, rubbing comforting circles on your back. “You’re so good. Doin’ so well.”

John cupped your face and used his thumbs to caress your cheeks. “So good for us,” he seconded.

Before you knew it, Simon was buried to the hilt in your ass. The burn from the stretch gave way to a pleasant sting as he moved slowly in and out of you. Then he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down to lie against him, your back to his chest.

His breath caressed the shell of your ear as he tried his best not to fuck up into your ass the way he truly wanted to.

“Good girl,” he whispered. “Such a tight little thing….”

John bent between yours and Simon’s legs to taste you as Simon fucked your ass.

“Ohhhh,” you moaned.

“We’ve got you,” Simon said, sliding a hand up your neck. “You can take it, can’t you? We know you can. Our good girl.” He squeezed your neck lightly, and your eyes rolled back.

“Harder,” you said.

“What was that, love?”

“Harder. Fuck my ass harder, sir.”

“That’s better.” He held you tighter and began pumping up into you faster. John had a hard time keeping his mouth on you, but he found a way. You could hear him slurping against you even as Simon’s hips slapped against your ass.

When you came, both men praised you.

“That’s it. Let go.”

“That a girl. Look at you.”

“So beautiful when you cum.”

You had relaxed against Simon. They gave you a slight reprieve before you heard him say, “We’re not done quite yet.” He grabbed your legs from behind your knee and spread you wide open. When you were able to focus, you saw that John was there. You smiled.

“Oh, Simon, our girl’s enjoyin’ this,” John said proudly before looking down at your pussy. “Let’s see if it feels as good as it tastes, hm?” You nodded weakly, and he chuckled.

“Our girl’s a greedy little thing, ain’t she, John?” Simon said beneath you.

“She is.” John was touching himself now, getting himself ready for you.

“But she’s so good for us, so we’ll give her whatever she wants.” Simon was pumping into you slowly, trying to keep you as still as possible as John lined himself up. He began pushing into you, and you swear you went cross-eyed.

“Stay with us,” John teased, tapping your cheek lightly.

You were beyond full, and still, you wanted more. You needed them to move. You squirmed impatiently between them.

“Let’s not keep the lady waiting,” Simon said in a strained voice.

Both men moved in unison, keeping a pace that kept you on the edge. Their grunts and moans mixed with yours, and you thought you had never heard such a wonderful sound.

You would have never guessed that Simon was so vocal, but he was louder than you and John.

“You feel so good, Simon,” you moaned, and he grabbed your face gently.

“Tell John he feels good, too.”

“You feel so fucking good, John.” With that, he began fucking you harder.

“That’s our girl.” Simon matched John’s pace, and soon you were a mumbling mess sandwiched between these two glorious men.

Never in a million years did you think something like this would happen to you. You would almost say it wasn’t real if it wasn’t for the fact that you were being stretched and pulled in ways you had never been before.

Both men were getting close, their thrusts becoming sloppy and uncoordinated. John was the first to let go, nearly collapsing on top of you as his thrusts stuttered to a stop as he filled you. He pulled out and watched his cum drip out of you, down your ass, and onto Simon’s dick which was still pumping into you.

Simon was not far behind, but before he came, he held you close and turned you onto your side. He grabbed one of your legs and lifted it as he fucked you while spooning you. After a few more thrusts in that position, he cried out in your ear as he filled you. He pressed himself against you as if he couldn’t get close enough.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathed. “You all right, love?”

“Mm hm,” you answered weakly.

John lay beside you, and you were again sandwiched between the two men.

“I don’t think I can move,” you said.

“There’s no need,” Simon said. “We’ll take care of you.”

“Rest. You deserve it,” John said, cupping your face. “We’ll be here when you wake up, won’t we, Lt.?”

“O’ course we will.” He kept his arm wrapped around you.

You knew they were both men of their word, so you let your eyes close, knowing that you were enveloped by their warmth and would wake up with the same feeling.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader

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stargirlmaki · 7 months

Text

Persona (PROLOGUE: OPERA GHOST)

Phantom!Nanami Kento x fem!Reader (x Gojo Satoru)

masterlist, next chapter: PART ONE- ANGEL OF MUSIC

synopsis: in 1880s Japan, there lived a ghost underneath the Japan opera house who brings terror to the opera company for the benefit of an opera signer who he trains and loves.

cw: Phantom Of The Opera AU (but Phantom gets Christine), minors do not interact, reader is afab and will use she/her pronouns, yandere, ooc nanami, every character is ooc, age gap, eventual smut, gore and violence, use of “YN LN”.

an: this prologue is dedicated for world building purposes, but I do hope that you will still enjoy reading it. If you have read the book by Gaston Leroux, there will certainly be familiarity in this prologue. No posting schedule, I will write at my own pace.

wc: 2.7k

The legend of the opera ghost has long lived within the walls of the Japan opera house; some say since the moment it was built. If you happen to ask any member of the company, the opera ghost’s real identity will certainly distort your imagination, and you might even begin to wonder if there is any truth to its existence at all. The ballet girls whisper that he is able to move through walls, that the naked eye is unable to see him, and that he could change his voice to mimic your loved one’s. The frequent guests of the opera house state that the opera ghost has the face of death himself, the most hideous and frightening, but dresses and moves exactly like any other person, making him able to freely live among us.

But the only time that a person has ever had a close encounter with the ghost, one where there is a close chance of verification of his existence, was through a man named Kiyotaka Ijichi. For twenty years, he worked as the opera house’s chief stagehand, and on one of the rehearsal nights, he claimed that he had seen the opera ghost and, most especially, his face! “As clear as I see you now! ”, quoting the words that came out of his mouth during his conversation with the past manager, Geto Suguru.

“His eyes are so hollow that they appear as just two black holes, like a skull’s. I could see the bones of his face peeking out of his skin; the skin around it had turned a nasty yellow. The black dress coat he wore hangs off him like he is nothing but the skeleton of a dead man. He is extremely skinny but taller than most men. His hair is the color of yellow, as yellow as the sun. And I assume his skin is cold to the touch from the color of it! ”

On the night of the departure gala for managers Shoko Ieiri and Geto Suguru, the body of Kiyotaka Ijichi was found hanging at the fly system of the main stage, a rope around his neck, eyes rolled towards the back of his head, and his skin had turned completely deathly pale.

—

Geto Suguru has earned the reputation of being an excellent practical joker, starting from his school days, and it has (unfortunate for others) increased the moment he became one of the managers at the renowned opera house. Shoko Ieiri has known this fact regarding her co-manager through years of maddening experience and observations. That is why, when Geto Suguru uttered the words, “We will be retiring as the managers of this opera house," Shoko Ieiri was confident that it belonged to one of Geto Suguru’s little jokes that he is extremely fond of doing every single day. Except this time, Geto Suguru clarified that it was indeed not.

Immediately, the woman asked her partner with a hint of disbelief and shock in her voice, “And who will be replacing us?” It was known throughout the opera that manager Shoko Ieiri was not capable of being in a state of anger for too long; she was described as the most gentle on and off stage, but that is currently hanging on by a thread.

Geto Suguru sighed deeply upon hearing his co-manager’s query; the expression on his face contorted like he had just been reminded of something he had been dreading to even think about it at all. “The Zen’in clan had recently purchased the entirety of the house.”

“The Zen’in clan! What do those selfish, money-hungry high-borns even know about opera? Do they even share an ounce of passion for the art that is made here? ”The sudden interruption of Shoko Ieiri’s deafening voice startled Geto Suguru. This wasn’t his first time seeing his partner this way, but this was certainly different from any other time.

“They only care about one thing, the one thing that would help make sense of why they even thought of the opera—and you, I’m sure of it, already know what I am talking about.” Geto Suguru’s voice has increased in volume as well; he hopes that the almost century-old walls are thick enough to make their conversation inaudible to outsiders.

Shoko Ieiri rubs her temple, calming the possible consequences of the overwhelm that threatens to come out of her. The Zen’in clan is well known in Japan to possess the most wealth, and nobody is able to acquire that much wealth with clean, spotless hands. One thing about the clan is that they will never stop until every dime and power is within their ownership, no matter which way they’re going to get it and how many get affected by it. The motivation behind the Zen’in clan’s sudden ownership of the opera house was apparent, maybe not to a regular civilian, but definitely to the managers of the opera, who fear that the essence of the Japanese opera house will be soiled in the hands of the wrong people.

Geto Suguru stands from his chair and adjusts his coat, reaching towards its inner pockets and pulling out an opened letter from one of them. He approaches his co-manager and hands it to her. “That’s the letter sent in this morning; it’s best if you read it yourself.” Shoko Ieiri straightens up and receives the letter in between Geto Suguru’s gloved fingers. She takes note of the residue of the Zen’in clan wax stamp found at the edge of the letter.

Before Shoko Ieiri begins to read the content of the Zen’in letter, Geto Suguru says: “And what will we do about Him?” There is caution laced in his voice, he said in such a low volume that if Shoko Ieiri was even a bit farther away, she wouldn’t have heard him. Geto Suguru knew that Shoko Ieiri understood perfectly what he meant and who he was referring to, and he could tell that his co-manager had been wondering the same thing as well.

—

The gala, celebrated in honor of managers Geto Suguru and Shoko Ieiri as they retire, commenced at six in the evening and was entirely prepared by the Zen’in clan themselves. Each single person who is part of the company was invited and is currently present: the ballet girls occupying the center floor with their dancing, the musicians showing off their talent with the various instruments on stage, and the actors mingling in their own conversations.

Towards the end of the room, there’s a round table fairly decorated in the colors white and gold. A number of people have huddled around it, surrounding and entertaining those that sat in the chairs. Towards the right side of the table, there sat the old managers, Shoko Ieiri and Geto Suguru, each dressed in their best clothing, their hair neatly combed and styled. On the other side sat the new manager, who introduced himself earlier to the entire house as Naoya Zen’in, son of Naobito Zen’in, the current clan head of the Zen’in clan.

Naoya Zen’in is 27 years old and looks like it as well. His complexion embodied the perfect adonis that the people of the opera had fallen for fleetly the minute he waltzed in the opera house. Though his arrogance made an unpleasant first impression on previous manager Geto Suguru, the Zen’in had reportedly refused to shake his hand during their first meeting. Shoko Ieiri took note of Naoya Zen’in’s condescending behavior as she managed to overhear one of his conversations with the woman he had brought with him; they had been shaming everything their eyes landed on. All of this drew the conclusion for the old managers that Naoya Zen’in would change the Japan opera house—in the most horrific way.

“He won’t take it seriously.”

It is eight in the evening. For two hours, the two had contemplated whether to spew the information they had been keeping or continue to hold their tongue about it. Geto Suguru urges Shoko Ieiri that they relay this message to the new beloved manager of the opera; Shoko Ieiri thinks otherwise; she says Naoya Zen’in will treat it as a joke.

“Well, that’s better than not telling him at all! ”Geto Suguru expressed himself, keeping his voice at a minimal volume, though it seems that the people around them are too focused on the new manager to take note of their conversation. Despite Geto Suguru’s apparent desperation, Shoko Ieiri does not succumb to it.

So, Geto Suguru continues: “Listen, we already know that the opera will decline with him as the manager, but if we fail to let him know of the real danger below there, the opera house will suffer even greater consequences! ”While he speaks, his head turns to look around him, fearing that someone may be eavesdropping on their conversation.

Geto Suguru suddenly remembered that he had something incredibly important to divulge to Shoko Ieiri. He remembers that he had placed the folded letter in his pocket before heading to the gala. He reached for it and handed it to the woman sitting beside him. “I have forgotten to give this to you. That may be his final letter to us. It arrived an hour after we'd gotten the Zen’in news.”

“You went to him? ”Shoko Ieiri asked. Raising her eyebrows in curiosity.

Geto Suguru shrugged. “It would be rude not to offer my farewells to the reason why the opera house is still standing.”. Shoko Ieiri breathes in and opens the folded letter. She is greeted by the familiarity of his handwriting. She reads:

My dearest managers:

Your departure upsets me. I will be expecting that the new manager is well informed of my conditions and will be equally acquiescent as you both have been for twenty years—if you wish for peace to continue, that is. I wish you good luck in your future endeavors.

Farewell,

O.G.

Shoko Ieiri huffs and falls into silence, perhaps entering once more in a state of contemplation, and then, after a moment, she finally speaks, “And if we do tell Zen’in, but he refuses to believe us? There is a high possibility of that, judging on how despicable he is.”

“He will know that he has made a mistake.”

Many of those who attended the gala that night recalled how there was a period of the night where the two previous managers requested to speak with Naoya Zen’in alone. The three entered one of the dance rooms outside of the event hall and had a discussion that lasted about ten minutes. Many have said that when Naoya Zen’in returned to his seat, he was laughing like he had been told a joke so hilarious. The two other managers, however, had an expression on their faces that looked like they pitied or were scared for the man that they had spoken to.

“A… ghost?” A grin began to show on Zen’in’s face like he had just been told of a good joke; the two other people in the room could tell from his expression that he was about to burst into laughter.

Candidly, if you were told that a dangerous ghost resides in the opera house that you recently purchased, it is normal to let out a laugh. Particularly if you were someone like Naoya Zen'in, who had been drowning himself in every alcoholic drink at the gala since the start of the night. His flushed cheeks and tipsy movements showed Geto Suguru and Shoko Ieiri that the new manager is nowhere near sober.

Naoya Zen’in’s laughter dies down, but his grin remains on his grotesque (according to Shoko Ieiri) face. “Are you both so enraged about the sudden replacement that you result in this pitiful act?”He ridicules the two predecessor managers in front of him.

“Oh, Jesus...” Shoko Ieiri rolls her eyes immediately upon hearing the man. Geto Suguru stiffens and says, ”This is not about that! This is real, Mr. Zen’in! You have to believe us.”

Shoko Ieiri instantly adds, ”This is for your own good.” said in such a stern manner, she didn’t mean to glare at the high-born in front of her, but she couldn’t help it at all.

Naoya Zen’in scoffs, “A ghost who demands a monthly salary and the box five reserved for him only? This is insanity! If you wanted me gone, you should’ve come up with a better act or whatever you actor freaks get on... Not this, made up—” he giggles in the middle of his sentence, “—ghost in the opera house.”

“He is not made up, sir. He is real, and denying his existence will have dire consequences for you and the Japan opera house.” Shoko Ieiri emphasized each word to him, trying to maintain her composure as she knows her anger won’t result in anything good.

“Oh! Now, the ghost is a man? ”There is a fake intriguement in Naoya Zen’in’s tone, his smile growing larger.

As Geto Suguru walks towards him, a sense of great urgency is evidently evident in his voice when he says, “We speak nothing but the truth; you can ask the rest of the opera, Mr. Zen’in, and they will tell you all about the opera ghost.”

”That is enough!” Naoya Zen’in shouts, filling Geto Suguru and Shoko Ieiri with despair.

Shoko Ieiri leans against the wall, near the wooden double doors, and Geto Suguru stands beside her as the both of them observe Naoya Zen’in, who had now sat at his table—still laughing at the conversation that had occurred just minutes before. They had not successfully convinced the new manager. At this point, Shoko Ieiri refuses to waste any more energy on being frustrated over the Zen’in. She looks over to Geto Suguru, and she can tell that he shares the same sentiments.

—

A month had passed since the gala; Geto Suguru and Shoko Ieiri’s offices are now empty, and Naoya Zen’in had taken over Geto Suguru’s old space. New manager: Naoya Zen’in still refuses the existence of the opera ghost despite numerous warnings that have already been sent his way, and on the night of his seventh day as manager, a letter is seen placed on top of his desk with a symbol on the wax seal that he has never seen before.

Naoya Zen’in slices the envelope open with a knife and pulls out the letter inside of it. Even with the handwriting, no familiarity reaches him; who is this from? He thought. Upon finishing the contents of the letter, he bursts into laughter, harder than he ever did today. Those two just never stop with this joke, do they? Do they really think I will succumb to this? So, I will be so frightened that I’ll hand back the opera to them? Naoya Zen’in chuckled as he downed his whiskey.

The letter reads:

Dear Mr. Manager

I apologize for bothering you at a time when you must be very busy with your tasks. I am very fond of the house’s annual production of ‘Faust’. It delights me that you have chosen it as your first opera during your first month as the new manager—a bold move. I know what you have done for Mei Mei, Ui Ui, and many others, whose talents and genius you have most definitely observed.

When I say “talents and genius,” I do not mean to apply them to Ms. Mei Mei, who has proven in every rehearsal that a dying cow ought to sound better than her. Nor to her brother, Ui Ui, who dances like a flopping fish fished out of water. If it is your dream to turn ‘Faust’ into a clangorous farm house production, this would make more sense.

Your jealousy has prevented the ballet girl, YN LN, from creating any impact on the production. She has proven her genius; you heard of it during the auditions, and I know that you and every person in this opera house were enthralled by her completely. Ever since her triumph in the auditions, all the main roles have been restricted for her.

Mr. Manager, I detest scandals, so I expect that this will be the last time you will treat me with such outrageous disdain.

Your most obedient servant,

O.G.

#dead dove do not eat #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x fem!reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento imagine #nanami kento fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x female reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #maudeatwork

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trying-something-n3w · 10 months

Text

Dracule Mihawk X Archer!Fem!Reader

Summary: After almost bleeding to death going up against an admiral you find yourself on a dark and gloomy island where your injuries get the best of you. Making your way through the ominous land and standing off with a baboon on steroids you stumble upon a seemingly empty castle. Little did you know that not only was the castle occupied but occupied by a warlord, the world's greatest swordsman in training, and... A ghost girl?

word count: +5k

Warnings: blood, fighting, Zoro being Zoro, ooc Akainu, reader gets a bounty eventually, stealing from the marines, intrigued Mihawk, unsuspecting Kobe, feels for Mihawk, slow burn

Author's Notes: I'm SO happy people seem to like Chapter 1 of Learning Curve (Katakuri x Valkyrie!Fem!Reader) Updates will be slow but I promise it'll be worth the wait! If you ask to be tagged in the series I will def tag you! Anyway! Here is my first Mihawk writing, not sure if it will continue but let me know if you want more!

The waves were aggressive in these parts of the sea and you knew it, you just didn't want to admit you didn't know how to sail on your own, especially in the grad line. The blood running down your abdomen wasn't helping either. You hiss trying to tether the sails so you don't drift off course in your little boat. With the rain pelting your face you genuinely didn't know which direction you were going you just knew you had to get far away from here. In the distance behind you, there sits a smoking marine ship up in flames with the distinct shouts of everyone trying to give hurried orders. Your bow lay thrown on the deck with your arrows scattered at your feet. Escaping was particularly hard not knowing a fleet admiral was on board.

What was meant to be a small robbery turned into a wild goose chase the second you crawled over the port side where said admiral was enjoying his tea. You both stare at each other for a solid minute before you laugh, smile, and book it.

Running through the ship grabbing anything that looked of value, your dodging skills came in handy when the bullets started whizzing by your head. You didn’t mean to catch the ship on fire, honestly, that was the admiral's fault.

All the halls look the same to you as you dip in and out of doors. Some meeting rooms, some with bunk beds, and some supply closets.

As you make your way through a kitchen you snag a tasty-looking roll then come face-to-face with Akainu blocking the only other exit in the room. You turn to go back the way you came when three more lieutenants block your way. They bring up their guns as you raise your hands and slowly turn back to the admiral.

“If you give up now we won't have to do this the hard way.” Akainu tried to intimidate you, tried to give you an out but to no avail, you only smirk in response.

“Now where’s the fun in that admiral?” In seconds you draw your bow and an arrow of your creation to send it straight through Akainu. He turns part of his abdomen to lava to avoid the arrow, exactly what you hoped for. A thick wire was attached to the arrow you shot connecting it to your wrist brace. Hitting a switch on your bow the wire starts to coil around the arrow pulling your light frame through the air. Due to Akainu melting half his abdomen to avoid the arrow, you fly through him. You hit the wall hard outside the kitchen with a grunt. That'll bruise for sure. You cut the wire with a blade attached to your thigh and bolt to your left hoping to be heading toward an exit. Unbeknownst to you back in the kitchen the three lieutenants are panicking watching the lava eat through the floor, the hole getting bigger by the minute.

“Well, what are you waiting for go after her!” Akainu’s voice booms. The three lieutenants scatter out the door they were blocking, one dropping his rifle and going after you.

Continuing through the halls you bound past two smaller marines, one with pinkish hair and glasses, the other one with yellow hair and a weird bullcut. With the roll in your mouth, you make eye contact with the pink-haired marine and wink. His face flushes but does nothing to stop you. Rounding through the corridors you come in contact with a few more trainees but you take them out easily. One you knocked in the head with your bow and another you choke tell he passes out. The last one was a little harder engaging in combat with you. His moves were slow, not aiming for any of your vitals so you swiped his legs and carried on.

The alarms start to blare in your ears when you notice the smell of paint burning. You make it to the front deck of the ship, slamming through a door, when you turn to see smoke billowing out from one side of the ship. While fighting off a handful of men one tries to pull your hair. You grimace while giving him a crazed smile as you cut your hair severing his hold on you. To be fair he didn't have a good hold so thankfully there was more length left than you thought. You kick his stomach with your heavy boot and run to a dingy attached to the side of the ship.

Before you can safely lower the small boat you hear a deafening voice calling for more backup on the side you were trying to escape from. You look up and see Akainu standing on the tallest deck, face contorted in anger. You panic and start cutting the rope with the dagger to get as far away as possible. Right before you cut the last line Akainu sends some of his lava in your direction shaped as, who would have guessed, the arrow you shot earlier. You lift your arm swinging hard trying to get through the rope before it hits you. As the line severs and the boat drops you get hit directly in the abdomen, straight to where you aimed at Akainu. The impact of the water was bruising, and the added sting from the wound made you groan in agony while trying to set sail. Thankfully it was not a direct hit, most of Akainu’s shot hit the railing of the ship as you fell.

You drifted from the smoky ship, shooting your head up when you started to hear guns fire. Once the small sail was finally set you paddle to add the extra distance.

This is where you find yourself now, struggling against a storm that came out of nowhere. The Marine ship is now a small dot in the distance as you struggle to tie a piece of ripped cloth around your burned stomach. After, you try to make-shift some shelter from the emergency kit on board to protect yourself from the storm. You tie one last knot in the rope holding the sail then take cover as much as you can. You take a moment to assess your wound before hissing and pulling your shirt back down. Becoming exhausted from your little adventure (disaster) the sound of the thunder becomes a thought in the back of your mind as you drift farther into a warm darkness.

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

Waking up who knows how long after your extravagant exit you find your undersized rig beached on a gloomy island. You try to sit up but hiss at the pain shooting through your torso. You quickly squeeze the wound trying to stop not only the bleeding but the pain. Slowly as you hold your breath you use the side of the boat to lift yourself to your feet. In the distance can be herded wild screams from an animal you hope not to run into. You sway as you take in your surroundings looking from left to right. At the top of a mountain sits an old-looking gray brick castle. Occupied or not you knew you needed to get to some safe cover. Trying and failing to pull the dingy more onshore you give up and hurry to grab your bow and arrows from the makeshift tent on board. Turning to the line of the forest you hesitate only for a second listening to the monstrous noises. The burning in your abdomen makes you take the first step.

Pushing past the first couple of bushes and trees the light becomes scarce with how dense the woods are. You pick up a stick and start taking out spider webs before you run into them venturing forward. With your other hand holding your wound you hurry in the direction of the castle.

The ominous sounds become closer the deeper you go. Noticing a branch snapping and the rustling of leaves you believe something is following you. You pause for a brief moment and hear it again but this time from above you. You turn to look behind you, the shore a small picture in the distance. As you turn to take a step to move on your head gets dizzy and your vision tunnels. For a split second, you thought you were gonna pass out from blood loss but something else kept you awake. A blood-curdling screech sounds from above you confirming that someone or something was tailing you.

You lurch forward and roll on the ground with a deep painful grunt before taking your bow off your back, pointing an arrow at the beast that made contact with the ground behind you. The earth shakes with its landing and your balance almost wavers. The beast stands tall on two feet with a sword in hand. It resembles other monkey species you've run into before but you still don't know exactly what you were up against.

Before it leaps for you, you let an arrow fly at its face. You turn quickly and flee before you can see the arrow burst into a powder on the creature. You glance behind your shoulder not stopping while clutching your side seeing the pinkish hase dissipate and the beast falls forward looking very sleepy. You let out a breath you don't realize you are holding. You haven’t tested the sleeping powder before now so you are very satisfied it seems to work! Before you can fully celebrate you start to hear even more loud beastly calls from the trees above you. They swung from tree to tree after you causing your stomach to drop, they were gaining on you. You pick up your pace hoping it's not too long before you reach the castle. Pushing past some thick shrubbery you almost fall forward as you come across a wide opening. You realize it's a stone path leading to the front doors of the castle.

Still clutching your bleeding abdomen you rush forward not realizing the sounds of the beasts fade the closer you get to said castle. This time when your vision tunnels and your limbs get heavy you fall against tall double doors. You reach your bloodied hand up and start to pound, it may look abandoned and you may be dying but you still have decent common sense no matter how fast you are fading. Knocking was polite. Your blood was a stark contrast to the clean wood of the double door. Just when you think the castle is indeed abandoned you hear a female voice call from within. It didn't sound like it was directed to you but to others inside. You take a stumble back hearing a lock click before the door creaks open. Before you see anyone you hear the female voice speak again.

“This better be good enough to interrupt my baking sesh otherwise I swear-” Cutting in you feel warmth fill your mouth.

“Help ple-” Instead of finishing the sentence blood pools your mouth and spills over. You lift your hand trying to stop it from leaking out but there is too much.

The younger girl with pink hair and frilly apron gasps, eyes widening as she yanks the door wider.

“ZORO!” She shouts and before you can comprehend it there is a male presence next to you. Your eyes water with the realization that you might not make this one out alive.

The green-haired male lifts your figure and halls you inside. Passing the threshold you become limp in his arms.

“Perona get Mihawk now.” Zoro says sternly yet he stays calm overall. The pinkette disappears down some hall as Zoro walks you down some corridors. The lights overhead are fading with every blink. You clutch onto Zoro’s shirt trying to stay conscious. He eventually kicks a door open and walks into a well-lit room.

Zoro is talking to you, asking you questions trying to keep you conscious. You don't understand the words he says but you can still see his lips moving. Zoro lightly sets you on what you assume to be a bed before he rushes over to a table with some drawers on it.

Turning your head you try to speak but nothing but blood splatters the white sheets.

“Don't do that you'll make it worse.” You hear in the distance. Zoro is back with rags, gauze, and other things you didn't quite recognize in your hazy state. You hear more than feel Zoro rip your shirt open before pressing a rag to your wound. You don't hiss or react only close your eyes and let the tears flow. In the distance you hear the sound of clicking heals and heavy footsteps. A minute or so later the door to what you assume to be a medical ward opens swiftly. The pink-haired girl stands in the doorway with a tall and intimidating figure behind her.

The first thing you notice are his striking golden eyes. If you weren't dying you'd be blushing because of his intense stare. The second thing you notice as your eyes drift is the pinched look on the girl's face. Did you look that bad?

“What is going on here?” The taller figure asks with a clipped tone. Perona, as Zoro called her, glances at the greenette and then back up at the man beside her.

“We aren't 100% sure, she was banging on the front door and this is how we found her.” Zoro removes the bloodied cloth from your wound to examine it.

“Mihawk this looks bad, it's a major burn wound and it won't stop bleeding from the main laceration.” Zoro turns on his heels to face the two. “If we don't do something she is going to die.”

Perona looks up to who you now know as Mihawk, his face is blank. You don't recognize the name at first in your state but you feel like you should be more scared of the man in the doorway. His eyes shift down from Zoro’s face to yours. You hope your eyes were expressive enough to get across your plea for help. Perona shifts uneasily as Mihawk stays still, unmoving. With a deep sigh, he uncrosses his arms and steps in. Rolling up his sleeves he proclaims,

“Fine but you are in charge of her when she wakes Perona.” Some type of relief falls over your body and you sag with exhaustion.

“Me!? Why me?!” Perona shouts at Mihawk for assigning her to nurse duty. Zoro gets out of Mihawk's way as he sits down to examine your wound. He feels your forehead, eyes slightly scowling knowing you are likely running a fever as well. Mihawk starts listing off things for Zoro and Perona to get for him to work on you but your consciousness is fading fast. Mihawk notices with a side glance and tilts his head to you.

“Sleep. You won't want to feel this.” These are the last words you remember before the darkness takes hold of your body.

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

Two days pass unbeknownst to you. Your sleeping figure fighting against the wound and the fever. Zoro goes about his business training though stopping by whenever he seems to stumble upon the medical ward. His straight face was easily readable to Perona, knowing he was worried about the stranger lying unconscious in the bed. Perona was bouncing around the infirmary rinsing cool rags and setting them on your head, she also changed your wound dressings when she noticed them getting a little too red. Most of the bleeding stopped by the first night but every once in a while you would jolt in your sleep and a new gush of blood would slowly seep through the dressings.

If Perona wasn't taking care of you she was sitting next to you reading and sipping on some tea. Mihawk hovers only to see when you would wake up. On the second night, everyone retires for the evening when you wake up with a start. You gasp with wide eyes as you try to remember where you were. The room is dark with only the moonlight and a single candle illuminating the wide space. Your hand makes its way to the throbbing of your side to find newly wrapped gauze and padding. You slowly move the blankets and shirt to look down at yourself. Admiring a job well done you try to sit up. The pain that shoots through you makes you hesitate but you push yourself. You swing your feet over to have them land on cool tiling. You notice you weren't in your original clothing, now sporting loose joggers and a loose-fitting top. You take a deep breath almost gagging at how sterile the room is, you could almost taste it.

Taking small light steps you make your way to the door opening it slowly. You lean heavily on the door frame when entering the hall. You look both ways before you notice a very faint light coming from the end of the hall around the corner. Relying on the stability of the wall you make your way past paintings and doors. Once you reach the end of the hall you turn to find an archway about a quarter way down the corridor. Hissing at the sharp pain when you try to stand straight you step forward anyway. Reaching the warm light you now see a cozy yet large library with a fireplace burning on one side of the room. Your eyes widen at the vast collection of books. You take one step inside before you feel a hand grab your left arm.

“You are supposed to be resting little one.” You gasp at the light hold and deep voice. Whipping your head to the side you meet the same piercing gold eyes with the same intense stare. You have to crane your neck to fully meet his gaze. You stutter trying to respond but before you can Mihawk is leading you to a sofa in front of the fireplace. A book lay abandoned on the arm of the couch which you assume he was occupying before you interrupted. He sat you down gingerly before taking a seat in the chair diagonal from you. You clear your throat when you finally find your voice.

“Thank you… For everything. I wasn’t aware this castle was occupied when I landed here but I am very grateful it was. All of you saved my life.” You stare into the fire mesmerized by the dancing flames. You glance at Mihawk nervous now conscious of who he was. First an admiral and now a warlord. What next? The king of the pirates?

Mihawk sat frozen with his legs crossed and his hands conjoined above his mouth just observing you. You shift under his gaze and look back to the fire. Before you find the words to continue Mihawk breaks his silence.

“The other two showed up in similar states. At this point, it's like I’m running a hospital.” You turn away and grimace. You knew you were being a burden but he didn't need to say it so coldly. As if reading your thoughts Mihawk continues seemingly unbothered.

“Perona will be taking care of you as you burn heals. From the looks of your abdomen, you probably won't be able to sail for at least two weeks.” Your eyes widen at his words, just how bad did Akainu get you? Your eyes drift down to your wound where your hand already sat. You were in a good amount of pain right now all things considered. Probably not the best idea to wonder for too long.

“Either way, thank you for your hospitality and I’ll work hard to get out of your hair soon enough Sir.” You don't meet his eyes but you can feel his gaze on you, his eyes raking over your body. To you, he’s analyzing if you were to become a threat. In reality, he was wondering how much longer you would stay conscious. You have some pretty heavy pain meds in your system now so for you to be holding a conversation was impressive. Not that he would admit that.

“Mihawk is fine.” This is when you finally meet his eyes. Expecting his intense and methodical stare you were surprised to see curiosity and interest. You turn your head back to the fireplace in hopes the glow of the flames could mask your slight blush. His eyes were gorgeous when not giving someone the death glare.

“Since you seem fine enough to hold a basic conversation, I am intrigued to know how you stumbled upon my land and home. Do tell little one.” Mihawk uncrosses his legs and stands. He walks over to a wine rack and picks a bottle easily. “Wine?” He questions without turning around. You take a chance to admire his back muscles while you can.

“Please. That sounds fantastic. And the names (Y/n) for your information.” You wear a hint of a smile enjoying your banter with the warlord. Mihawk walks back to his seat across from you and sets down two wine glasses. He fills them equally and leans back taking a long sip. You grab yours and smell, you’ve always enjoyed a nice aroma to your wine. Taking a sip you lean back as well, relaxing on the sofa.

“Well, where do I even begin? First and foremost, I am a traveling merchant. I get hired to do odd jobs as I travel around from island to island. My skills are a wide variety from handling a bow and arrow to basic construction to hunting people down. I like to keep people on their toes. Currently, I am between jobs, I was sailing to Water 7 when I came in contact with a Marine vessel. It was smaller, maybe a cargo ship. I thought since I am low on funds, what's a little scavenger hunt gonna do?” You take another sip of your wine before setting down the glass on the low table in front of you. Resting your elbows on your knees you warm your hands up and rest them against your face.

“I didn't know there was a fleet admiral on board at the time. Let alone know it was Akainu.” You side glance at Mihawk and see the barest twitch of his eyebrows. You take that as a queue to continue.

“I climbed aboard not thinking much of it at the time but I should have scoped it out more beforehand. I should have absorbed my surroundings and should have followed the ship for a while before boarding. There was plenty I could have done at the moment to prevent what happened but… I slipped up. I was starving, being out at sea for so long without food and water will do that to ya I guess.” Your shoulders slump as you sag backward. “At first when I got past him I thought I was in the clear. I should have known from the moment I set foot on the deck that I wasn't getting away unscathed. After running around for a while and tumbling through marine after marine he finally spotted my getaway. Before I knew it I was dropping a dinghy into the water and my abdomen was bleeding. My goal was Water 7 but a storm swept in. My old rig being left behind I set sail and hoped for the best.”

You were leaving out key details like the amount you got off the ship or how you got jumped by a baboon on steroids on your way to his castle but he didn't need to know that. You open your eyes to look at the man beside you and notice he is looking into the fireplace. You couldn’t recognize the emotions you saw in his eyes but you assumed it was nothing bad considering you were still sitting next to the warlord. For a brief moment, you didn’t think he would say anything but he surprised you by setting down his now-empty wine glass and standing. You follow his movements out of your peripheral and take the last swig of your wine. Before a second thought crosses your mind Mihawk then extends his hand in invitation. You glance at his hand and then up to meet his eyes but he still looks towards the fire. You set your wine glass down next to his and proceed to stand. Or, attempt to stand, that is. As you flex your abdomine to gain balance a sharp pain runs through your stomach. You hiss as you drop back on the sofa. You look up to Mihawk again now understanding his gesture. You take his hand without looking at his face and he helps you stand on your own two feet.

“You must be hungry. I always say a good wine requires a good snack.” Mihawk lets you lean some weight onto his arm as he leads you out of the library.

“A snack sounds fantastic right about now.” As if in queue your stomach lets out an atrocious growl that reddens your face. Mihawk peeks at you while you look at a very interesting painting as if your stomach didn't drop an atomic bomb in the hallway.

“With the looks of it, I’m surprised you lasted this long without collapsing. Undernourished and injured do not mix well.” It’s as if the briefest hint of a smile crosses Mihawk’s face. You barely catch a glimpse as your eyes dart to his.

“As small as I seem I am one tough cookie thank you very much.” You retort as you raise your head high. “My skills with my bow did not come easily.” You say almost to yourself. Mihawk does not miss this. The rest of the walk to what you assumed to be the kitchen was silent. A comfortable silence as you admire the decor and photos. Most are of landscapes and waterfalls but one in particular caught your attention before you walked past a threshold.

Sitting upon the bleak wall was a massive photo of Yoru, Mihawk’s beloved sword. You pause admiring the beautiful craftwork and detail in the painting. Mihawk glances at the painting before down at you. His gaze sweeps your face admiring the awe in your eyes. He’d never admit it but the look on your face now was almost as beautiful as the painting you admire. With your mouth slightly open and eyes wide you take your time to absorb the scene. Yoru stands tall in the center, leaning up against gold and jewels. The gold cross-guard somehow shone brighter than any piece of jewelry in the painting. The black blade is a contrast to the vibrant colors of the gems surrounding it. Your breath catches in your throat as your memory is thrown to your beloved bow and arrows.

“My stuff. Where is it?” Your voice was slightly colder in tone when you spoke. Mihawk lets you lean against the wall next to the painting of Yoru and takes a step away. He turns and crosses the threshold to the kitchen before responding calmly.

“Your things are in a guest bedroom you will be moving to after you eat.” You visibly calm, the tension leaving your body. You take one last glance at Yoru before proceeding. Your bow and arrows were your most valuable possessions, a gift that could never be replaced. You support more of your weight on your feet as you follow Mihawk. You venture to the island in the middle of the room and sit on a bar stool. Mihawk opens a pantry pulls out a loaf of bread and makes his way to a refrigerator. He proceeds to pull out some ingredients and begins to make you a sandwich. To your amazement, you find a delicious meal presented to you on a porcelain plate within a minute or so.

“Again, thank you…” You glance up at Mihawk before you continue. “You know, for a terrifying warlord you’re very sweet.”

You look from the food to him again. He stands across from you leaning up against the opposite counter. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and you can't help but notice the veins running down his forearms and into his hands. A shiver runs down your spine and you take a big bite of the sandwich averting your eyes. Before you can question if Mihawk saw you staring he takes a couple of steps forward resting his hands on the island you sit at. He acts as if your last comment was never said.

“For the next few days, I don't expect you to be up and walking as much. Once you are however we can discuss payment options for my… Services.” Mihawk says with an earnest gaze. Swallowing hard you set the sandwich back onto its place in front of you. Trying to sit up as straight as possible you meet his eyes head-on, trying not to seem intimidated or nervous even when your stomach was in knots. However, you couldn't tell if it was from hunger or anxiety.

“Of course, I understand. Whatever it is I’ll do my best to pay you back. You did save my life after all.” Mihawk just hums in reply and stands.

“Finish your food and I’ll assist you to your room.” With that, he steps out of the kitchen for a moment.

Taking this opportunity you shove your face with the delicious sandwich. Nothing has ever tasted so good after weeks of no food at sea. You slow down reaching the last few bites of the sandwich wanting to savor the flavors like it's your last meal. With your life, you never knew when your last meal was going to be. Licking your fingers and patting your stomach you sigh. With the food now in your full stomach you take a moment to look around the Kitchen. It's a decent size even with the island in the middle of the room. Plenty of cabinets lined the tall walls and a pantry sits in one corner. You wonder if Mihawk likes to cook. With the look of how clean it was he either loved to cook or never did. You stand gingerly trying to walk without the support of a wall or counter. You felt confident the first few steps to the sink but right when you thought you were in the clear a stabbing pain flew through your abdomen making you cringe and fall forward. You were able to lightly toss the plate onto the countertop before hitting the ground on your knees. Before your face falls flat on the hardwood an arm comes across your chest. Even with your hair now blocking your face you knew it was Mihawk from the solid frame and sweet red wine breath. One hand clutches his arm as the other goes to your wound. You inhale sharply feeling yourself start to sweat from the pain.

“Let's get you to your room shall we?” Mihawk’s warm breath fans the top of your head, you squeeze your eyes shut trying to will away the pain.

“Give me a second to catch my breath and I-”

Without warning you are lifted into the air and pressed against a warm chest.

“Please, if you walk now you'll reopen my stitching.” Mihawk begins to walk gently out of the kitchen to a tall set of stairs by the front double doors. You can’t say anything with the warmth that spreads across your face. Hawkeye freaking Mihawk is carrying you up to a guest bedroom and you think your heart is about to jump out of your throat. Whether it is from butterflies or anxiety you couldn't tell.

Mihawk observes you for a brief moment noticing you hiding your face with your hair but chooses not to say anything. He knows his presence is intimidating and even though that is not his goal he can't help it. The persona he has built over the years as an intimidating warlord has protected him and haunted him. Yes, he may not be actively trying to participate with a group of pirates but no one ever said he never got lonely. With Zoro and Perona around, their presence has helped him realize he wouldn’t mind having someone around permanently possibly. Someone he knows is always going to be at home when he returns. What circumstances of the relationship with that person were still unknown to him but having another body around would be nice, to say the least.

Reaching the top of the stairs Mihawk turns to the right and passes a couple doors before stopping in front of one that was slightly ajar. Using his elbow to open it all the way Mihawk turns to not hit you on the door. He walks over to the king-sized bed that was situated at the far wall of the room and lies you gently on the covers. You take in the room, your head on a swivel when you notice all of your belongings on the desk up against a wall. You visibly relax as you turn your attention to Mihawk who is now at the end of the bed. He gestures to a small tray lying on the trunk stationed at the end of the bed.

“If the pain gets any worse take these and they will help you sleep. In the morning I’ll let Perona know you woke up late in the night and she will meet you for breakfast.” Before Mihawk could turn away and exit he gets caught frozen in place. You sat situated in the middle of the bed now, hair frazzled from days of not being washed yet the look you give him makes his heart skip a beat. Your appreciative gaze is crinkled by the wide smile you show him. You look younger, not injured. Your cheeks are rosy from the cool night air and your nose scrunches with your now Cheshire cat smile.

“Thank you Mihawk, truly. I look forward to speaking with you again.” You open your eyes once more and you could have sworn you saw the tips of his ears turn a shade of pink. Before you can see, Mihawk is turning towards the door and making his exit.

“Likewise little one.”

#one piece #dracule mihawk #mihawk #mihawk x reader #one piece x reader #anime #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk

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