#throws a wrench in all his plans….

[dulcesiabits]

lyney is 100% the type to fall at first sight. then he beats himself up for it

I CAN IMAGINE HIM DOING EXACTLY THAT 😭 the mental image this gives me is so funny…

He’s the mf who thinks he can’t or won’t fall in love because he has trust issues, and then he gets hit with love at first sight (instant attraction to someone) . Now he’s going through an existential crisis and drapes himself dramatically over furniture as Lynette and Freminet stare at him like (-_-) (o_o)

Love opens up certain vulnerabilities he didn’t think he had !

[childrenofthesun77]

Back when mahiru thought his uncle might be dead he had a flashback to the accident that resulted in his mother's death, but one thing I noticed is that we don't actually see akira in this memory? It feels like either mahiru (or someone like lily or jeje) is supressing his memory here.

And if someone possibly killed akira on purpose, who was it and why?

[orcelito]

Love me finishing ITNL 15, the moment I've been building to for Months, and being like. Yes. I did it. I am so accomplished.

And then I look to the future. ITNL 16. I know how it's going to start.

And then....

Uh...

Well. I gotta figure that part out, now. Lmao

[rxzennia]

hibernation/ brumation

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 winter dormancy.

in his five years of being your boss, aventurine hasn’t ever seen you send in a request for leave. but here he is, staring at your application for a month-long vacation.

a month? isn’t that a little too long?

you didn’t even stick a little comment about where you’re going or what’s happening, dammit! he wants to know so bad, but he feels like he’ll either overstep his boundaries or come off as clingy if he asks.

he’ll approve it, of course!

he wants you to not hate your job, and part of being a good boss is letting his subordinates take the leaves they’re entitled to

and you deserve a nice, long break, anyway

but the curiosity is killing him inside. what will you be doing? will you still hang around the IPC?

he really, really wants to barge into your office and wrench an explanation out of you

and also, how dare you try to take leave right into the holidays! rude

he wanted to take you out to dinner! to fancy places! he was prepared to have a schedule full of you!

totally not dates or his attempts to spoil you

he totally isn’t thinking of doing it so that you’ll spoil him in return

he’s found out that you respond to him if he rants at you

and that you get very soft and careful with him if he presses the right buttons

he digs that so much it’s unreal

there’s something about having you, of all people, treat him tenderly

perhaps because he’s seen firsthand what kind of monster hides in your scarf

or… what kind of monster hides beneath your silent, icy exterior

it just hits different when someone like you treat him so gently

and he knows for a fact that you’ll never abuse that power you have

he absolutely loves that. 100%.

“guess who’s here!” aventurine announces as he enters your office without so much as a knock, “hard at work, my favorite secretary?”

“out, please.” you hiss, sparing him barely a glance from your computer, “i’m concentrating.”

since when did your complaints stop him

he saunters over and sits himself on your armrest anyway

your scarf lift him up and set him down on the couch opposite to you

he finds his way back to your chair

you put him on the couch again

he comes back to your armrest

is he a cat obsessed with a particular box (namely, your chair) or something

you give up

“what is it?” you relent, scooting over so he can fit onto your seat, too, albeit barely

this man does not hesitate to invade your personal space

“where are you going for a month, hmm?” he asks with a playful smile, “can’t even tell me?”

oh, so that’s what this is about

but why is he resting his face in his hand and looking at you like he’s trying to flirt?

“hibernation.” you keep typing without giving aventurine much of a reaction, “not exactly, but close. brumation.”

wait. wait, what?

it doesn’t take a genius to know that aventurine is currently flabbergasted. “you… hibernate? like sleep hibernate?” 

“no, i hibernate awake.” you mumble sarcastically, but he catches it even if your words are muffled

“c’mon, i’m just checking!” he throws his hands in the air as if protesting your attitude

“yes, i sleep, for the most part.” you scoot over a little more and lift him up, setting him down in your lap. “but i’ll be awake here and there.”

you rest your head on top of his and continues to work, effectively caging him in

he realizes you’re much more like a snake than he thought

not in an alarming way

you’re coiling around him, but, like, in a friendly danger noodle way

“will you?” he chuckles; maybe his plans aren’t entirely foiled, after all, “for how long?”

you look at him. “a few minutes up to an hour?” 

you’re only getting up for water and/or changing sleeping positions

never mind, his plans to try to spoil you is, in fact, foiled

he pouts. he had the entire thing planned out already! all five days that you’ll be off!

he looks like a kid who’s about to buy the last donut but you beat him to it and buy the donut right in front of his eyes.

“you can visit.” you say, and you see him light up almost immediately. 

though, you don't think there’s much worth visiting, but whatever makes him happy

when aventurine visits you during your well-deserved vacation, he’s pleasantly surprised. you’re sleeping so peacefully, despite the fact that you usually rarely sleep at all.

you’re curled up into half a ball under your blankets and your scarf

and letting out little snores

is this what you look like when you’re asleep? 

so adorable. if only you’d let him see it often…

but he doesn’t know the frequency of your brumation period

as far as he knows, it’s once in five years, but he has no idea if it’s more than five years

you’re not covering your face, either

aeons, he loves seeing your unobscured face

you’re so beautiful under your scarf

especially the patches of scales along your neck, they glitter in white gold under the light

he wishes you wouldn't try to cover them up

during your entire month, he’s going to be in your room whenever he’s free

he will totally try to sleep next to you at night

what? it’s not like you haven’t shared a bed before!

it’s just that you’ve never been asleep by each other's side!

you will cuddle into him if he tries to hold you

and you will get fussy if he tries to get out of the hug

if only you were as honest when you’re awake

aventurine has been trying to catch you in your small conscious windows, but he’s having not much luck with that. though, this isn’t exactly a gamble, so “luck” might not be the right word here.

he’s so busy; he’s drowning in work 

your temporary replacement isn’t very good at their job

or maybe he’s just used to the way you do things and now everything feels wrong

he wants you back already 

because nowadays he barely has an hour to spend with you apart from bedtime

he hates it

what do you mean by he can’t sit next to your sleeping form while he signs papers?

horrible, very horrible

but eventually he does catch you when you’re awake

you’re drowsy and you’re dragging your blankets and your scarf with you around your room

the cutest thing he’s ever seen in a long while

he watches as you clumsily pour yourself some water, spilling some on the table because you can’t line up the jug and the glass properly

and he watches as you sluggishly flop onto your couch after you’ve downed the water

“had enough of the bed?” he asks, sitting down next to you and brushing a few strands of hair away from your face

“hnnnnnngh,” you grumble and turn to face away from him, you just want to go back to sleep

then you remember this is your boss’s voice

and you reluctantly mumble, “it’s too warm…”

do you even know what you’re saying? you’re melting his heart

“oh, that so? it’s too hot over there?” aventurine snickers softly, his hand caressing your face, the cool fabric of his glove making you sigh in delight. “you’re so lovely.”

he recognizes the amount of trust you have in him to let him visit you when you’re sleeping, and it’s doing things to his stomach. you’re so lazy, so barely aware of your surroundings, but you trust him to be around you while you are in this state.

there is an urge, and he acts on it. he nuzzles against your cheek, rubbing your noses together and planting a small kiss on your forehead. he’s been dreaming of holding you like you’re his greatest treasure, but he’s never mustered up the courage to do it. 

maybe someday he will tell you, and then he’ll be allowed to adore you openly the way he’s always wanted to.

“my favorite snake,” he whispers to himself, feeling a shudder of affection throughout his bones, “sleep well. i’ll look forward to taking you out when you rise.”

[giamee]

𝐎𝐇 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄!

୨♡୧ pairings :: roommate!welt x reader ; roommate!blade x reader ; roommate!gepard x reader

୨♡୧ contains :: modern!au, nothing crazy maybe some suggestive stuff and talking about lack of shirts, alcohol consumption but like rlly mild like I'm talking a few glasses of wine

୨♡୧ gia's notes :: screaming sobbing crying i got welt AND sampo on the same 10 pull :> anyways first exam in five days lets fucking gooooo. something short and sweet in the meanwhile

୨♡୧ request :: @sentieence 𖦹 (hope that this is enough blade content for you, i threw in a couple extra hee hee har)

𓆩♡𓆪 WELT

for an animator who mostly works from home, your roommate is surprisingly elusive

of course, you know what he looks like because you met him when you first moved in

he's smart, poised, handsome, and kind - as made apparent by his insistence on helping you move all of your boxes of belongings into the place

he was always polite, never overstepped boundaries, bid you a good morning or night whenever your paths crossed

and, well, that was about it

you knew that welt worked in his room, but if it weren't for his occasional appearances, it was almost like you were living entirely on your own

which wasn't exactly awful, per se, but you did want to get to know your roommate better

however, life's plans always manage to throw a wrench into the mix

your regular routine of work and returning home was interrupted with the unforeseen circumstance of having to stay later to finish a project in time- leaving you exhausted before you even left the building and began your journey back home

your stomach began growling as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, and you found yourself wondering what takeout you would rely on this evening to carry you through to the next day

those thoughts were interrupted by the enticing aroma of food cooking entering your nostrils as soon as you swung your front door open

you paused in confusion, taking a second to shed your shoes and coat before wandering into your kitchen, met with the surprising sight of your roommate with his back to you, humming quietly as he cooked himself a meal

you were almost hesitant to interrupt him, yet your stomach had other plans as it growled embarrassingly loud, causing welt to glance behind him and shoot you a quick smile before turning his attention back to the stove

"come sit, i'm making enough for two"

you grinned at his words, setting the table before settling down and watching welt cook with a practised grace

even in his own home, he dressed so formally, with his crisp button-down's sleeves rolled up to his reveal his forearms, the tendons rippling in such a way as he stirred the contents of the pan that you wondered just how an animator could have that physique-

you coughed to rid yourself of those thoughts, instead focusing on your drink as welt plated up the steaming food, placing one in front of you before taking a seat across from you

it all felt very intimate, and you tried not to get flustered as you made eye contact with your roommate from across the table

despite the easy expression he wore, his eyes met your gaze with an intensity that demanded you to match it, making you almost shrink back into your chair as welt nonchalantly took a bite, humming to himself in satisfaction

you followed his lead, feeling the tension in your shoulders as you sat back in your chair and appreciated welt's cooking

"you should cook more often" you sighed

welt let out a chuckle

"is that so?"

you hummed in affirmation, eagerly finishing your plate, the hot meal leaving you feeling fully satiated

you accidentally made eye contact with welt as you took your last bite, a certain look of endearment adorned by him that had you stuttering, teeth scraping unpleasantly around your fork

"i'll cook as much as you want to as long as you join me for the meal"

you almost choked on your food, feeling very self conscious all over again as welt's gaze remained fixed on you, chin propped up by his arm as that same accursed look on his face appraised you

"that would be nice"

𓆩♡𓆪 BLADE

on all counts, your roommate was an asshole

he was irritable, didn't clean up after himself unless you nagged him, and had woken you from your sleep more times than you can count because of whatever stupid shit he's up to that requires him to thump his way around the flat

it was infuriating, but hey, rent was cheap and the place you're in isn't half bad

all you have to do now is endure the circumstances for the remainder of your lease

you did your best to avoid the aptly named blade and his sharp mouth

mornings were particularly risky, with his half-asleep state invoking even more snide comments than usual as he makes himself a cup of coffee, black with no sugar

and then he proceeds to leave the unwashed mug in the sink

it pisses you off when you come back home at the end of your day and see it later alongside a stack of other dishes, dark ring of residual coffee staining the perfectly good piece of ceramic, and there's some string inside you that snaps and has you huffing and puffing your way over to your flatmate's room and knocking on it persistently

once, twice, three times

you hear an exaggerated sigh before the sound of his muffled footsteps, and then the door is being swung open and you're ready to chew him out for what feels like the millionth time

and then your eyes register the fact that youre stood face to face with his bare chest and the words die on your lips

the baggy clothes he wore really didn't serve him justice, and it's an active effort to peel your eyes away from his toned chest to meet his eyes, only to see a flash of amusement as he watches you make a fool of yourself

"something wrong?"

the bastard's enjoying this

"wash your dishes" you squeak out, before hightailing it back to your own room and trying to forget the image of your hot asshole roommate without a shirt on that was now branded onto the back of your eyelids

and it seemed that blade hadn't forgotten your encounter either

the next morning you were pleasantly surprised to see the dishes were done and set to dry, and you even picked out the same mug blade had used yesterday for your own coffee

the sound of the kettle must have masked his footsteps, because you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard blade grunt out a morning before reaching for the just-boiled water and the mug you placed on the counter

you turn around to tell him to get his own, though you're surprised to be greeted with the wide expanse of his bare back, all muscle that coils and stretches as he added milk and sugar to the drink and stirred it with a spoon and turning to face you yet again, smirk adorning his face as he took a long sip from your own cup

you bite the inside of your cheek, focusing your gaze onto his smug face as he leaned back against the counter, taking an exaggerated stretch back that let his muscles flex

"i thought you didn't like milk and sugar"

"i don't, but you do"

blade slid the mug across the counter back towards you, making his way out of the kitchen leisurely as if he hadn't just inadvertedly confessed that he memorised how you make your coffee

you take a sip and your suspicions are confirmed as it tastes the exact same as you make it, and you smile down at your drink despite yourself

having blade as a roommate might just work out after all

𓆩♡𓆪 GEPARD

gepard my beloved

honestly good luck living with this man and not having a massive crush on him

you feel guilty, but the thought of just how good of a boyfriend gepard would be has crossed your mind multiple times

the domestic setting of already living together doesn't exactly help these thoughts, either

over the late nights you've spent staying up talking, and the manoeuvring around each other in your cramped cosy apartment that has led to more brushes and lingering touches than you could count, this great image of intimacy has been constructed over the past months

the fact that he's single and painfully attractive is something that you're acutely aware of as well

even when alone, your mind often wandered back to that glaring fact, and on the rare occasion you let yourself indulge in the what ifs and maybes surrounding gepard

and with a couple glasses of wine in you right now, those thoughts were running rampant

it was a friday night and you were finally home from work, dressed in your comfiest clothes and just unwinding in the living room watching a trashy romcom with some takeout

and speak of the devil, you heard the familiar sound of your door being unlocked as gepard let himself in with a mumbled greeting, the door soon slamming shut behind him

you didn't turn your head, instead listening to him curse as he tripped over something in the hall, and his muted footsteps as he made his way to where you were sat

"long day, huh?" you teased, turning your head just in time to watch him loosen his tie with one hand, the pale column of his throat suddenly leaving your throat dry and reaching for your glass again

"something like that"

gepard shuffled over, intercepting it before you could place it back down on the table and took a sip from the same spot you did, making you feel flushed for reasons other than the alcohol working its way through your system

you placed your feet on the floor, about to shuffle up on the couch in anticipation of him taking a seat next to you, though the man surprised you as he crouched down, opting to sit in between your legs, his broad shoulders nestling comfortably against your knees

well, that was new

you zeroed in on his hair, reaching out your hand before thinking and combing through his tousled locks

you didn't expect the content sigh he let out at your simple action, watching the way his shoulders softened and he leaned back into you, his head now resting comfortably against your thigh

the ends of his hair tickled your bare skin, and you tried not to squirm at the feeling of his eyelashes fluttering closed as he hummed gently at your ministrations, basking in your presence

the thought of gepard having the exact mannerisms of a cat crossed your mind, and the giggle that escaped your lips was not lost on him, as he craned his head back to look you at you, brows furrowed at your mirth

"what?"

"nothing," you hummed, continuing to card your fingers through his silky hair, absentmindedly twisting a lock of it around your finger, watching the man sigh and sink back against you from his place on the floor

the weight of him resting against your legs just felt so right, and you felt yourself begin to relax into the position as well, your attention turning back to the movie as you continued your tipsy affection on your roommate

that seemed to be a sobering thought as you remembered that fact, and you were half tempted to pull away if it weren't for gepard looping his hands around your thighs, thumbs tracing absentminded patterns of his own into your skin, eyes fixed straight ahead

well, if he's not complaining, you didn't exactly see a reason why you should be either

୨♡୧ honkai star rail masterlist

[suashii]

— 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝒸𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁 ౨ৎ

boothill x f!reader. 2k wc. ﾉ non-canon compliant ﾉ sfw ﾉ some vaguely suggestive bits ﾉ farmhand!boothill ﾉ flirty teasing ﾉ pet names ( darlin', princess, honey, sweetheart. . . i went crazy @.@ )

my comeback to writing for hsr! first time writing for boothill so pls don't be too tough on me :3 hope u like ! !

masterlist ౨ৎ next part

the new farmhand at your grandfather’s ranch is trouble.

he shouldn’t be, not with the way your grandpa speaks so highly of him—he’s exactly the kind of help this place needed, he tells you. starts on time, is thorough in his work, and takes good care of all that your grandfather holds dear. you should love him simply for that—taking a weight off the old man’s shoulders and putting his heart at ease—but you’ve seen an entirely different side of the so-called saint.

ever since you arrived at the ranch a few days ago, the one called boothill has been a pain in your neck. it took nothing more than you stepping out of your car for him to label you that city girl, the “little lady” who looks like she’s never stepped foot in mud a day in her life.

from that moment onward, it’s been nothing but sly remarks at your expense. you don’t miss the chuckles he makes no effort to hide as you refamiliarize yourself with the animals and get used to the scent of hay and manure. his not-so-subtle smirks when you’re simply passing by have been the most irking. your mere presence is seemingly a joke to boothill.

you’ve made it your mission to steer clear of the man but the task is proving to be difficult. the fact that he’s now living in what you used to know as one of the guest bedrooms coupled with your grandpa’s oblivious albeit innocent nature seems to be enough to throw a wrench in that plan of yours. 

your trip here was meant to be a relaxing getaway from the hustle and bustle of city life but you’ve only taken on a new role as boothill’s personal assistant if the tray with two glasses of lemonade is any indication. if it were up to you, you’d be enjoying a peaceful breakfast without worrying about the man bothering you but it’s just your luck that your grandfather caught you before you could make the meal, politely asking you to deliver a cold beverage to boothill who has been working since the sun rose over the horizon.

luckily for the farmhand, you can’t say no to your grandpa.

that’s how you find yourself wandering the grounds in your satin pajama set and the boots your grandpa prepared for your arrival. your legs move in muscle memory as you navigate the vast stretch of land in search of boothill. thankfully, you don’t have to go much farther, catching sight of the man at the entrance of the barn.

he’s gone for a simple look today—a white t-shirt and jeans paired with the dirtied boots you haven’t gone a day without seeing him in. his shirt is already stained and is darker around the neckline, dampened with sweat. he’s made an effort to tie back his black and white strands of hair, though, a few of the shorter ones have escaped and frame his face. the hat you’ve grown accustomed to seeing him in, strangely, isn’t sitting atop his head.

he must see you approaching out of the corner of his eye because he turns to face you, an immediate grin taking over his lips. it makes you grip the tray tighter.

he looks you up and down as he pulls off his gloves, stuffing both in his back pocket. when gray eyes settle on yours, he tells you, “nice get up.”

you roll your eyes because you saw a comment like that coming. everything you do down to the way you dress is scrutinized when it comes to him. even though you’ve only been here a short while, you’ve come to expect this kind of behavior from boothill.

he huffs out a laugh at your reaction before his gaze falls to the tray in your hands and the glasses that sit on it. “that for me, darlin’?”

against your will, your heart jumps in your chest. that, you haven’t grown accustomed to. you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to him throwing around pet names at you like it’s nothing, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to him. it’s easier to blame the heat blooming in your cheeks on the sun’s beaming rays rather than boothill’s sweet talking.

you hold the tray out to him, hoping the effect of his words isn’t visible on your face. “courtesy of grandpa.” you can’t have him thinking this gesture was born from the kindness of your heart. his teasing would be merciless then.

“of course,” he drawls, grabbing one of the glasses and swallowing a few gulps. the shine of the lemonade is left on his lips when they pull away from the brim, his tongue poking out from between them to lick up the lingering drops. your eyes remain on his lips longer than they should, long enough to see them curl up into that annoyingly handsome smile. “little miss city girl wouldn’t be caught dead out here on her own accord.”

he can only stay charming for so long. “did you miss the whole part when my grandpa told you i grew up here?”

“no, no, i caught that.” he takes another sip of his drink. “it’s just that you strike me as the type who spent more time riding the horses than cleaning up after ‘em.”

you keep quiet and nurse your glass of lemonade because the only other option besides lying is telling him that he’s right. in your defense, what ten-year-old wants to spend their summer hauling hay and shoveling up horse crap?

“look,” you start, “i’m not some delicate glass figure who can’t get her hands dirty. i’m perfectly capable of helping out.”

boothill raises his eyebrows, a glint of humor sparkling in his steel irises. you know the look of a challenge when you see it and it almost makes you regret trying to defend yourself. “oh yeah? then the princess wouldn’t mind lending me a hand?”

“i wouldn’t,” you tell him. contrary to your statement, you really don’t want to spend more time with him than necessary, even if that means proving a point and settling some stupid argument. your mind races to find a believable excuse that’ll let you off the hook. “but i’m barely dressed to do any work. another time, maybe.”

he waves his hand in dismissal. “don’t worry, darlin’. what i’ve got in mind ain’t much work and won’t steal too much of your time.”

you nervously chew your cheek as boothill takes the tray that’s tucked under your arm, setting the now empty glasses on it and finding a place for them to rest. he nods his head in the direction he wants you to follow and, reluctantly, you do just that. he casts a glance over his shoulder to look at you. “just help me get this hay inside the barn, will ya?”

the job seems easy enough, a surprisingly straightforward request from boothill who seems to derive pleasure from giving you a hard time. too easy, you think to yourself as he heaves one of the rectangular bales of hay from the top of the stack. the task looks effortless when he does it, a short grunt being the only suggestion of exertion on his end.

he disappears into the red building and you take his temporary departure as an opportunity to pick up a bale of your own. you grab a hold of the twine keeping the hay in its shape and immediately grimace at the way the fodder pokes and prods at your palms. you’re tempted to let go and step away but you have a point to prove and plan on doing so. with a groan, you lift the bale, or at least try to. it’s heavier than you expect it to be and the scratching against your exposed legs is uncomfortable, sure to get worse with the distance you’re meant to walk.

you’re about to drop the bale back in place when a pair of arms reach around you, calloused hands joining yours to carry the collection of hay. boothill’s unexpected presence catches you off guard and the proximity of his mouth to your ear makes your breath catch in your throat. “having a bit of trouble, love?”

love? your skin prickles with goosebumps at yet another pet name. this time, it’s more difficult to blame the heat running beneath your skin on the sun. it takes a moment for you to find your voice and when you do, the ones you manage to get out refute his claim. “i’m not. i told you i wasn’t dressed for this.”

he snorts at your reply as though he can see right through the flimsy excuse. “right, well, you’re in my way, so why don’t i help you with this one?”

before you can protest, boothill is on his way, dragging you along with him. your steps match his, his bigger boots trailing behind yours as the two of you walk the path to the growing supply he likely started before you interrupted. you’re released from your place between the bale and boothill when he drops it on top of the other.

you’re free to make a move, to slip away from the charged air and reclaim your personal space. instead of doing so, you simply turn around to face him. you’re met with his broad chest before you tip your head up to meet his eye. “i could have done that on my own.”

“i’m sure you could have,” he says, but the smile pulling at his lips tells another story. he reaches behind him with one hand to pull the gloves from his pockets, waving them between you as an offer. “these might help.”

you happily take the gloves as he takes his leave, slipping your hands into the protective gear. they’re larger than you need and there’s extra space in them but you don’t mind, not if they’ll help you show boothill that you refuse to be reduced to some city girl.

and they do help, at least with shielding your hands from the unpleasant sensation of hay against them. the bales are just as heavy and just as awkward to haul but you’re able to get the job done, nonetheless. for every one you carry, boothill lugs two more past you. his familiarity with the job means the two of you are finished one within a reasonable amount of time. 

you drop the final bale with the rest, a relieved sigh pushing past your lips at a job well done. boothill stands off to the side and whistles as you snatch the gloves off, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. “well, would you look at that.”

“surprised?” you ask, tossing his gloves back at him.

“honey, anyone can hoist some hay.” he catches the gloves with ease, stuffing them back in his pocket. you’re almost offended at how easily he dismisses your efforts but you don’t have time to let the annoyance sprout before he’s approaching you, tipping your chin up so that you have no choice but to look at him. “though, i doubt they’d look as pretty as you doing it.”

you can’t tell whether he’s trying to get a rise out of you or if he truly stands by his statement. all you know for sure is that his sugary words and the feel of his skin against your face leave you unmistakably flustered, so much so that you can’t control the erratic beat of your heart and can’t stop the little nagging voice in the back of your head from whispering that you don’t dislike him as much as you let on.

boothill is trouble, but not in the way you thought he would be.

“i have to go.” you knock his hand away and turn on your heel in a rush to get back to the house, far away from boothill.

you can escape the sight of him, the feel of him, but not the sound of him as he yells after you. “see you around, sweetheart!”

thanks for reading! consider reblogging if u enjoyed :3

[dante-mightdie]

please HEAR ME OUT for a third time on the cult!au :

so simon is just relieved that his plan worked out, his wife is no longer talking about the outside, but here's the thing, seeing that gut wrenching scene would do a number on anyone's mind let alone a poor girl who has never seen anything but happiness and joy around her

and simon watches his precious wife drown in grief as days go by, she eats less, talks less, every smile she gives him feels so forced

so he's feeling guilty, understandably, and he stays up all night just praying by his bedside hoping his wife just goes back to the way she used to be before that traumatic experience

and so he decides to make it up to her? he brings her fresh vegetables and fruits from the farms everyday, gives her so many kisses and hugs her every chance he gets, he becomes more touchy and soft, but it does not work. and it's making him go mad

and one night when they're getting ready to go to bed, as she's preparing a bath for him, he just tells her to strip down?

and maybe up to that point sex was good, but nothing special, no emotions were ever involved yk? maybe they only had sex in the dark of their bedroom, and they did it like every other chore their community had made them do, they both got off at the end but they didn't talk at all, maybe a few kisses here and there but as i said before nothing special

and now the room is dimly lit, the water is warm and the steam is brushing over their skins so gently, and he just keeps blurting out stuff like, i'll always protect you, i'll make you happy, i'll give you a beautiful family, and everything is just so new for the poor girl, she's just a moaning panting mess

and for simon too yk? he's never viewed sex as anything but an order price had given to him, and he just felt like it was something to be completed, just knock her up and get it over with, a role he had to play as a follower to carry on price's delicacy, but rn he was enjoying something he wasn't supposed to enjoy, if fulfilling john's order brought him any form of joy, he was doing it wrong, dedication is not supposed to bring enjoyment

but right now, he could not care less

and the thought of price shaming him for being this intimate with someone who almost ran away a few days ago just eats at him but he can't help it, she's so soft and nice and her skin glows from the steam and she smells like flowers and fruits

(ps, as always love your writing, please ignore my request if you want to, BUT THIS AU IS SO GOOD?! and your writing makes it even better 😢🙏)

you gotta stop asking me to hear you out because baby i’m HEARING

also smart decision to stay in anon because otherwise i’d be sliding into your dms for sending me something this FILTHY (pls don’t stop)

c/w: cult!au, mentions of trauma and ptsd, mentions of murder, nsfw, fem!reader, teasing, pinv sex, breeding kink

it was eating him alive day after day. watching your sunken form move around the home that had just gotten used to being filled with warmth and companionship. he was terrified of you or john finding out. especially since there is no good outcome to the truth being brought to light. if you find out your husband was really the creature of the night, mauling those who dare to venture past the compound gates, you would run again

on the other hand, if john found out that simon allowed his curious little wife to wander the outside forest by herself, you’re lucky if one of you makes it out of that alive. so he throws himself into his duties, waking up extra early to complete his mandatory chores so he can be home with you much earlier. all of his efforts going towards the goal of just being able to see your eyes light up for him just once more

he adores the soft gasps you make when he comes up behind you in the kitchen, gripping the ties of your apron and tugging you flush against him whilst you prepare dinner. watches your hand tighten around the handle of the kitchen knife, awaiting his next move, only to relax when he simply ties your apron for you before planting a kiss on the top of your head and a painfully light squeeze to your ass

he enjoys the warmth that builds on your cheeks when he comes home with boxes full of fresh fruits and vegetables that you mentioned you like. mumbling that he got johnny to put some aside for him from the farm before he sent of his produce stock. he can almost feel himself foam at the mouth when you stand on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek with a small ‘thank you’

what he doesn’t enjoy is seeing that sullen look in your eyes every time you pass the compound gate, images flashing in your brain of the terrible thing you saw. he simply puts a hand on the small of your back and guides you away, distracting you with conversation about random things

nor does he enjoy hearing you creep out of bed in the night to go and cry in the bathroom, thinking he can’t hear you. when you crawl back into bed he pretends he’s still asleep, “subconsciously” reaching over and pulling you into his arms. his heart aches a little at the way you curl up into his chest, like you’re trying to hide from everything in the safety of his arms

he’s tried to subtly get some advice from price without getting him too suspicious, asking what he can do as a husband to cheer you up when you feel bad. price tells him you’ll be right as rain once simon knocks you up, you just need something to keep you busy when he’s away. simon frowns but he knows if he wants price to take it seriously then he’d to reveal why you’re so down and he certainly won’t be doing that any time soon

he watches you that night as you walk around the bedroom and attached bathroom, preparing a bath for simon after you’d both had dinner. you didn’t eat a lot, piling your leftovers onto his plate. he’s leaning against the bathroom counter, arms folded across his chest as his eyes follow your form

after you plant some fresh towels on the counter, you turn to leave but he grabs your wrist before you can make it out the doorframe. he watches you with tired eyes, “take your clothes off.”

his command is blunt as he tugs you back into the bathroom, kicking the door closed and beginning to strip off his own clothes and piling them on the floor. you attempt to reach down and clear them up but he stops you with another grab of your wrist, nudging you towards the steaming bath

you climb in, kneeling in the water obediently for him. the same way you normally wait for him on the bed when he tells you to get ready for him. hands clasped firmly on your thighs, sweet eyes looking up at him like a pet awaiting instructions. he dims the lights a little before clambering his large frame into the tub, his thighs spread either side of you and caging you in

you chew on your lip, your eyes flicking down to his lips and chest before focusing back on his own gaze. he beckons you closer with two fingers, grabbing your waist and manhandling you into his lap when you crawl closer between his legs. you squeak when he plants you down, the water sloshing around your waist

your hands grip onto his shoulders for balance, your fingers lightly playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. he tilts his head slightly, letting his hands wander down to rest on your ass so he can ever so slightly grind your hips against his, “pretty thing, aren’t ya? hope our kids look like you…”

his words being a heat to your face that makes you pull your eyes away from his. you don’t see his smirk, nor do you see the way one of his hands disappears under the water to grip his cock and drag it through your folds. you let out a soft gasp when you feel him bump the tip against your clit

he repeats the action a few times, dipping the head of his cock into your hole a couple of times just to hear you whine and squirm about how it’s too big. he pushes in a little further each time but lets his cock slip out of you before he can really give you what you want

“you’re gonna let me knock you up tonight, won’t you, pretty baby? gonna let me give you a few of my brats to take care of?” he asks, grinning when all you can do is pant and whine in response, your hips chasing his each time he slips the tip of his cock back inside of you

“course you will. ‘cos you’re my good girl, ain’tcha? made to be my pretty wife and to carry my kids. gonna give you so many, you’ll lose count.” he growls when you nod your head, loud moans echoing through out the tiled room when he bucks his hips up and bottoms out finally

it doesn’t last long before he pulls out again, leaving you empty and aching. “shush, pretty girl. can’t just give it to ya, can I?” he coos, pressing a soft kiss to your pouty lips

“good girls beg their husbands to breed them.”

~

[navybrat817]

And Everything Nice

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader Summary: You visit the tattoo parlor when an uninvited guest shows up at the bakery. Word Count: Over 2.8k Warnings: Bad ex, mild (h)arassment, protectiveness, brief moments of insecurity, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @firefly-graphics . Bucky edit by Nix. Moodboard by yours truly. A/N: More Hottie and Sugar from our Sin on Skin AU. ❤️ Thank you to @rookthorne for listening to me ramble about this part! Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thank you for spitballing), but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

I am going to ask Bucky Barnes out.

After going through the closing checklist, Tess gave you another quick pep talk and said the only thing that would hurt if he turned you down was your pride. Deep down you knew it would hurt more than your pride if he said no, but you didn't say it out loud. She must have sensed it since she added she was certain he'd jump at the chance to date you.

"You got this," she said, giving you a quick hug. "Sorry to run, but-"

"Like I said, I got this," you said, waving her on. Normally you walked out together when you both closed the bakery, but she had somewhere to be. "Have fun!" you added as she rushed out.

Once you finished up a few minutes later, you strode to the door with your keys in hand and a smile on your face. Tomorrow was going to be a good day. You could feel it. And you would look Bucky in the eye with a smile as you asked him-

"Closing all by yourself?"

You weren't sure how you managed to not drop your keys, or not throw a punch, when you spun around and saw your ex in your personal space. You wanted to wipe the smirk off his face when you took a deep breath. "Thanks for sneaking up on me, Richard. Mind backing up a little?"

"Aww, did I scare you?" he asked as you quickly locked the door. "Not even a 'hello'?"

"We haven't talked since we broke up," you reminded him. "But hi and bye."

Richard charmed you in the beginning when you met him, like he did with so many others. Beyond his good looks, he was a confident man. It didn't take long to see that beneath the surface was a spoiled man child who was used to getting what he wanted, or thought he could buy everything. You included.

Breaking up with him was one of the best decisions you made, even if your mom disagreed.

"Where are you going in such a hurry? You should get a drink with me."

"I have plans," you lied, wondering what the hell he was even doing there.

"So? Break them. I want to talk."

The suggestion sounded more like an order and you weren't in the mood.

"I said I have plans. I'm sorry."

"Then why are you still in your work clothes?" he asked, gesturing to your outfit. "And who do you have plans with? Some new guy?"

"Because I'm changing later," you said, staring across the street as a smile spread on your face. "And not that it's any of your business, but yes. He's a tattoo artist."

You weren't sure why you said that. Maybe because you hoped Bucky really would be your guy. And because the thought of him also made you feel safe.

You half expected Richard to laugh as you walked around him, but he put his hand on your arm instead as his face twisted into a scowl. "You're not hanging out with him. You're getting a drink with me."

You wrenched your arm away before he could tighten his grip. "We aren't together anymore. So you don't get to show up out of nowhere and order me around," you said as you went to the curb.

"Don't act like a fucking brat when I'm trying to give you another chance."

I'm the brat?

"Not interested. Have a good night!" you said before you looked both ways and dashed across the street to Bucky's shop.

The entrance was cozier and more open than you expected, the sound of the needles bringing you a strange sense of comfort as you adjusted your bag on your arm. Pictures of various tattoos in different styles lined the red walls above the front desk and leather couches. You wished you had the time to pick out which works belonged to Bucky.

Another day.

"Hi! Welcome to Sin on Skin!" the man behind the desk cheerfully greeted you as he typed on the keyboard. Even sitting down, you could tell the man was built, his muscular arms covered in a variety of tattoos. He may have been intimidating if not for the glasses and warm smile. "Do you have an appointment?"

You glanced over your shoulder and saw your ex making his way across the street. "Sorry, I don't. Is Bucky here? I really need to talk to him."

"Oh, yeah. Just over there. If you want to take a seat, I can-"

"Thank you. I'll be quick," you smiled, hoping Bucky wasn't in the middle of an appointment.

You glanced around at some of the other artists as you walked over to the chairs and noted how exceedingly gorgeous they were. There was one with short dark hair and a beard that looked like he could kill someone with his tattoo gun if they stared for too long. The girl sitting at his station and the man behind him with shocking pink hair and bright smile both brought a ray of warmth to his almost dark aura.

Is it a prerequisite to work in the shop that you have to be good looking? And either look intimidating as hell or incredibly alluring?

You gripped your bag to keep your hand from shaking as you saw Bucky engaged in a quiet conversation with Steve, recognizing him from earlier. You were almost afraid to interrupt. "Hi?"

Both men turned toward you with smiles on their faces as Bucky pushed himself up from his stool. “Hey, Sugar. Couldn’t wait until tomorrow to see me?”

"Something like that," you said.

"Wait. That's Sugar?" the man with the pink hair asked. "No wonder you keep going to the bakery."

"Don't hit on her, Hal," Bucky warned, earning a chuckle from the other man. "Go bother Andy."

"He already is," a deep voice replied.

You would ask later just how much he spoke about you to the other artists. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting. My ex was waiting for me outside of my shop and I kind of panicked and said I was meeting you and I rushed over here."

"Your ex?" Bucky asked, immediately moving forward to rub your arms in a soothing gesture. "Are you okay?"

"Hi! Welcome to Sin on Skin!" you heard the guy at the desk call out before you could answer.

Instead, you burrowed yourself against Bucky when you heard Richard shout your name. Rock solid and sturdy, his hold kept your nerves from bubbling to the surface. You had nothing to be afraid of.

So why am I shaking?

“You’re kidding me, right? This fucking asshole?” Richard scoffed as you looked over your shoulder at him. He didn't walk any closer, but his voice carried throughout the entire shop. "Like putting a bumper sticker on a piece of shit car, isn't it?"

“Richard, just leave.”

"Does your mom know you're spreading your legs for some tatted up lowlife? Still a disappointment, aren’t you?”

The jab cut deep as much as you wanted to ignore it. He knew that your mom judged every part of you. No matter what you did, it was never good enough.

You wouldn’t focus on that for the time being. "

You do not come into his shop and insult him. Bucky, I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize for this asshole, Sugar. His opinion of me means less than nothing, trust me," he assured you before he faced your ex. "You, however, are banned from my shop. You can get out now or Jake will call the cops for trespassing. After you apologize to my girl for upsetting her. Your choice, Dick."

Your heart fluttered as you leaned into Bucky more.

His girl. It sounds right.

"Please. I can buy the shop tomorrow just to bulldoze it to the ground," he sneered before he jabbed a finger at you. "And you know what? Keep her. I tried to give her another chance, but she's not worth it. She's a lousy lay anyway."

The insult washed away the momentary good feeling and was the tipping point that brought tears to your eyes. It was humiliating enough that you were the root cause of a scene in Bucky's shop, but the jab in front of his employees and customers brought it to another level. Why did you think hiding in there was a good idea?

Does Bucky think I'm a total loser now?

It was only when you sniffled did you notice the entire shop had gone silent, a dangerous tension in the air when Bucky tightened his arms around you as Steve and Andy slowly got to their feet.

"Hey, why don't you and I go in the back?" the friendly girl at Andy's station suggested. "I think there's some snacks back there, right?"

Andy nodded and gave her the go ahead.

"Bucky," you whispered as you dared to look at him. A tear slid from your eye when you saw the murderous gaze on his handsome face. "I'm-"

Before you could register what was happening, he pulled your face toward his and kissed you. Fierce, yet gentle as he brushed the tear away with his thumb, you let him take the lead. A slow simmer of warmth crept into your cheeks as he parted your lips with his tongue and coaxed yours into his mouth. Your fingers twisted in his shirt as he deepened the kiss and shifted so you were pressed almost completely against him.

If this is how he kisses, he might actually kill me if we ever go further than that.

He breathed into your mouth as he stole the very oxygen from your lungs when he pulled away.

"Go in the back," he told you, his gaze dropping to your lips. Did he want to kiss you again or was it wishful thinking on your part? "I just need to take out the trash, finish up here, and I'll take you home, okay? I won't be long."

It was a feat that you didn't shed more years with how gently he spoke to you.

"Thank you," you whispered, unable to say much more.

"Let's check out that snack collection back there," you heard before you were pulled from Bucky's grasp.

You didn't look back at Richard when the girl tugged you away, but you heard a slight waver in his voice as yelled after you.

That's right. You should be afraid.

"Thank you," you said, wiping your eyes with your hand.

"No need to thank me. One of my good friends just got out of a bad relationship and I'm still a bit in my protective streak," she explained. "Are you okay?"

"I think so."

You tried to remember how Richard acted around other guys when the two of you dated. Had he been the jealous type and you just ignored it? Or did he only cause a scene because you showed him you wanted to move on?

Tess is going to flip when she hears about this.

"Well, whether they just throw him out on his ass or worse, he deserves it for what he said to you," she added before she told you her name. "Everyone calls me Sunny."

"He does," you agreed, introducing yourself as she handed you some water. "Bucky calls me Sugar."

"And you work in the bakery across the street?" she guessed.

"Co-owner," you said, the small talk calming you. "Do you work here or are you a client?" you asked, noticing that she didn't have any tattoos.

"New client. I work in an animal shelter," she smiled. "Grumpy out there is going to give me a sun tattoo."

"That's nice," you smiled back. It seemed fitting with her warm and bright presence. "I really do appreciate you bringing me back here."

It was somehow just as warm and inviting as the entrance, the couch worn and comfortable. You wondered how often Bucky came back here to relax and hang out in-between his appointments. Would he ever bring you back here if you stopped in to see him?

"I figured the amount of testosterone out there could be a bit overwhelming, but are you sure you're okay?"

"Other than being incredibly embarrassed, yeah."

Even though Richard was no longer your boyfriend, he just had to barrel back into your life and leave a mess in his wake.

"He's the one who should be embarrassed," Sunny said, wiggling her eyebrows. "Especially after seeing that kiss."

Your face warmed as you replayed it in your mind. The silver lining for showing up tonight was receiving such a passionate kiss from Bucky. It was difficult not to get swept up in the moment though and you told yourself it was likely just for show. A way for him to stick it to a guy who upset you.

Right?

"It was a really good kiss," you smiled.

"Oh, we all felt the heat. Trust me."

Both of you giggled until there was a soft knock on the door frame.

"Hey, Sugar. Trash is out on the curb," Bucky winked. "You ready to go home?"

Your heart fluttered as you smiled back. "Yeah, I'm ready."

You didn't live far away, but Bucky still insisted on taking you home. He even took you out the back way so you didn't have to see anyone. While he didn't specify exactly what happened with Richard, he assured you he wouldn't poke around either of your shops again. It made the drive home more pleasant knowing he looked out for you.

So much that you almost took his hand when he stopped outside of your place.

Almost.

"Thank you for everything," you said. "I'm really sorry about tonight."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Not the first time we've dealt with assholes in the shop. Steve and I don't like bullies."

"I still feel bad," you said, wishing the feeling would go away.

"Please, don't," he whispered.

Your fingers twisted in your lap before you took a deep breath. "When you came into the bakery earlier today, I was going to ask you out," you told him, but refused to look at him. "But after that, it's probably a dumb idea. You shouldn't have to deal with that kind of trouble."

Maybe there's a better girl out there for you.

"You think one asshole ex is trouble?" he asked, leaning over to grasp your chin so you'd face him, goosebumps rising on your arms from his touch. "I can handle that."

"But what he said in your shop-"

"He did that to bring you down because he's an asshole. Guys like that don't want to see girls thrive without them."

You scoffed and mumbled, "I wonder what you'd think of my mom.

"I'm not afraid to stand up to anyone who tries to hurt you," he said, keeping a hold of your chin with a tender grip as your chest tightened. "You said you were gonna me ask out. Don't change your mind because of them."

"So, you really want to go on a date with me?" you asked.

"If I say 'yes', do I get to kiss you again?" he replied, running his thumb along your lower lip.

You were torn between sucking his thumb into your mouth or sinking into your seat. "Maybe we should get an actual date under our belts first. You only kissed me to prove a point or something."

Even if it felt like heaven.

"Or maybe I've been wanting to kiss you since I walked into your bakery and I want to kiss you again," he said, sliding his hand around to the back of your neck with ease. "Proving a point was an added bonus."

You looked at him wide eyed and subconsciously touched your lips. "Wait, you want to kiss me just because I asked you on a date?"

"I can give you a whole list of reasons," he said, his gaze flickering between your lips and your eyes. "And I'd love to go out with you. Friday night, Sugar?"

"It's a date, Hottie," you smiled when he leaned in.

But he didn't kiss your lips.

He brushed a kiss to your forehead, which somehow seemed more intimate.

"You had a rough evening. The next time I kiss you, I want it to because it's the right moment, just for the two of us," he explained when you furrowed your brows. "My girl deserves that."

A soft smile played at your lips as something warm welled up in your chest. He could have easily taken advantage of how vulnerable you felt by stealing another kiss, but he didn't. Even though you were into each other.

Going to see Bucky tonight was the right choice.

And you couldn't wait for your date.

Love them. Love the whole gang. Except Richard. Fuck that guy. And where are they going on that date? Check out What Dreams Are Made Of to see how Bucky is feeling. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[inkdrinkerworld]

𝓒𝓤𝓟𝓘𝓓'𝓢 𝓒𝓤𝓡𝓢𝓔

Synopsis: James can make your days trying to get a story for your company really hard, he gets under your skin and knows exactly what buttons to poke and you hate it.

cw: a bit of an axious!reader, rugby!james, i used the house names for the clubs but it is not at all set in the HP universe.

wc: 1.1k

-`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´-

Sports journalism is fun and rewarding. 

You love going to the post and pre-match interviews and talking to the players and managers and getting all the insight you can to then write your story. What you don’t like is having to interview James Potter. 

Everytime James sees you in the press room, he decides it’s his time to be the most non-descriptive, non-responsive to all of your questions and make it difficult for you to even write a story. He loves giving you vague answers that don’t answer any of your questions and it gets under your skin like nothing else. 

It’s even more tiresome when he’s the team’s go to media-man because of his looks. He’s England’s current heartthrob first and their best flanker second. He’s beefy and burly, with curls that look like they’ve been ink dipped individually and dimples that throw a wrench into many a woman’s plan. It also doesn’t help you, mostly, that he’s the perfect gentleman the minute the cameras are on and everything he says takes on this sugary, colying tone.

Dread fills you as you walk into the media room, finding a few familiar faces before you sit to the back. You hope in vain that James isn’t on media today, maybe they’ll put his sweet teammate Remus on media duty. He’s always sweet and succinct, answering all the questions, no matter how ridiculous, with a grace and precision you suspect makes him perfect for being the team’s fly-half. 

You’d even interview his rowdy teammate Sirius, possibly the best winger in the game right now, and endure his loudness and even his flirtations with the camera so long as you just got good answers. 

Your hope is shattered when you hear James talking as he rounds the corner, your hands grow cold knowing that today is the day you write a half decent story about the Gryffindor team. 

“Morning,” he calls as he enters, his eyes find you immediately and the smile he shoots you makes you scowl. It’s going to be a long press day. “It’s great to be back.” 

“How have you and your team prepared for the start of the season? Knowing it’s a derby game must make it all the more exciting to be back.” One journalist starts, sweat already pebbling on your brow. 

James answers perfectly, in depth and with the knowledge that you sometimes forget these players possess. 

“What about the injured players from last season? Can we look out for their names on the starting squad? What sort of system can we look forward to this season?” You ask, hands shaking as you prepare for the worst. You hate how much anxiety courses through you nowadays in these interviews. They used to be far more fun. 

“I can’t well say what we’re going to play this weekend, it’d be a bit of a helping hand to the Slytherin team.” The media room laughs and you have to bite your tongue to keep the scowl off your face. “However, we’ve got a lot of key players back in the squad, so I’ll say keep your ears open for some names you haven’t heard in a couple months.” 

By the time you’re finished with the conference, you’ve got sufficient answers for the hopes of the beginning of the season but every other question was bypassed or you’d received a roundabout answer. 

You’re picking up all your equipment, the other journalists all gone already. James hovers near the door, watching you for whatever reason but it makes your skin crawl. He has to know what he’s done. 

“Can I help you, Potter?” You ask, lifting your head to catch a peek at him. His arms are folded across his chest and he’s leaning against the doorframe, something sort of like a smile on his face. 

“Just waiting for you to be done. Wouldn’t feel right to just leave you in here alone.” There’s a bit of sincerity but mostly amusement in his tone and you roll your eyes. James laughs and pushes off the door frame moving towards you, “All done?” you huff and sigh, hoisting your bag over your shoulder and walking past him. 

“Have a good training session, James.” he nods, watching you go with a smile on his face, one that spreads bigger when your perfume lingers in the room after you. 

-

When you hit submit on your report you feel good but stressed. 

What usually takes you an hour and a half to get done, took you twice as long because reports have been so slow during the off-season that you wanted to get it perfect before the opening match. Stretching, you make your way into the kitchen. 

You’re sure half the worry was unnecessary and the other half was about impressing your boss. God knows you need that woman to be pleased with something you do this year. 

Your phone rings before you can give in to that anxiety inducing thought, your stomach pits and the cup of tea you had to your lips lower. “This is Y/n.” 

“Hi, I want to talk about the interview you just submitted,” Your boss is a bit of a hardass. She’s always harping about things being ‘perfect’ and stories being complete, so in the two years you’ve worked there, though you’ve climbed to higher and higher positions, you’re still the fresh and sort of peppy girl you were to her when you’d handed in your resume and appeared in her office in a blue suit. 

“Sure,” you set down the tea and open your laptop, ready for a slew of changes or to change whatever she wanted you to. 

“It’s great,” that’s high praise, yet you sense something in her tone. You’re almost certain she’s going to make you rewrite the entire thing to make the opening game of the season, a derby game no less, seem even more anticipated than it already is. “I just want you to add a little more about the history of both teams. Potter’s already brought in an influx of new fans, we want to make it easy for them to get into the season and get behind either team and feel the rivalry.” 

That’s not what you’d been expecting. Not what you were expecting in the least. 

“I’ll resubmit tonight by eight.” is what you say but inside you’re twirling and jumping around your apartment while morning sun streaks through your living and early 2000s pop music is blasting through the house. 

James Potter and his non-answers be damned, you just got the best compliment of your work life.

[mrsbarnesxxx]

Eddie Diaz x reader

Angst but fluff at the end

Where maybe the reader is married to Eddie and she asks him about if he ever wants a kid with her and he takes it the wrong way and says something like I only need Christopher and he’s enough, and the reader gets upset and walks off and maybe drives to Maddie’s and chimneys and while she’s gone he goes to their room and finds a box on the bed and he opens it to see the readers ultrasound and he immediately feels bad and goes to talk to her and happy ending.

Thank you so much for the request! I altered it only slightly (just where Eddie finds the ultrasound) but I loved this concept. I love angst with a happy ending!

It was a pretty normal day all in all. Carla was taking care of Christopher, Eddie was at the station, your boss kept sending hundreds of emails, oh and you had found out you were pregnant. Just an average day. You hadn't planned this by any means. You and Eddie had never talked about having a baby. You had been married for a year and a half, but the subject had never come up and you had never pushed it. Look how well that had gone. After staring at the stick in your hand for what felt like an eternity, you finally pushed yourself up from the floor and left the bathroom.

"Hey, Carla, are you okay if I run out? I have to go do something. It should only be about an hour." You say grabbing your keys.

"Of course, honey. Go right ahead." She says.

"Thanks, Carla. Bye bud," you say kissing Christopher on the top of his head before heading out of your and Eddie's shared house.

You didn't even know what you were doing until you were sitting in the waiting room of the local doctor's office reading a magazine.

It wasn't until one of the nurses had called your name 3 times that you seemed to realize they were calling you.

"Sorry." You apologize sheepishly standing and following her back to a room.

Sure enough, the doctor confirmed you were about 6 weeks pregnant and sent you home with a picture of the tiny baby. You knew you couldn't hide this from Eddie for long since you were likely to start experiencing more symptoms, but a part of you was worried about how he would react. Everything had finally settled down with Christopher and work. Everything was stable per se. And now you were throwing a wrench into the serenity the two of you had worked so hard to create. Finally, you decided you would broach the subject once Christopher had gone to bed. You would just ask him if he ever thought about having more kids. Yeah. That would work.

So, that night after Christopher was in bed and you and Eddie were alone in your room getting ready for bed, you took a deep breath before deciding now was a good time to approach the subject.

"Hey, Eddie?" You asked putting lotion onto your arms. "Have you ever thought about maybe having another kid?"

"What?" He asks brows furrowed as he pulls the covers down and joins you in the bed.

"Have you ever wanted another kid? I mean I love Christopher, but I was just curious." You explain, heart racing.

"Not really. I mean, I'm happy with Chris. He's a handful as it is and with him getting older, I don't know. I'm happy that the diaper changes and waking up to screaming is over." He says.

Anger surges through you at his admission. How could he say that? How could he openly admit to your face that he didn't want the baby growing inside of you...not that he knew about that, but that wasn't important.

"Were you even around for that?" You ask not thinking about what you're saying, just infuriated at him. "I mean didn't you enlist right after Shannon had Chris so didn't you pretty much luck out and miss all of those years?"

"What the hell are you saying?" He asks, confused at why you're attacking him all of a sudden.

"I just mean don't you not even know what it's like to be there for those years, so isn't that not a fair standard to measure it by?" You argue.

"What's going on with you?" He asks, turning to you, trying to contain his anger.

You scoff, "Nothing."

"Something's going on 'cause you're acting like a real bitch to me right now for no reason." He says. Instantly his face drops, realizing what he just said to you. "I-"

"Fuck you, Eddie." You say standing up and grabbing your coat. You don't listen to him as he follows after you, grabbing your keys and walking out of the house. You just get in your car and drive.

Eddie watches as you leave, slamming the door behind you. He really messed up this time. "Fuck!" He exclaims hitting the table. Your purse tips over as his fist makes contact with the table. a paper falling out. The paper catches his attention, the white clashing against the dark oak of the table. He reaches to put it back in your purse when the other side of the paper intrigues him. He turns it over to see a blob in the middle of the page. His face drops instantly, he runs his hand through his hair staring at the blob that is the reason for your outburst a few minutes earlier. He sighs texting Buck asking him to come stay with Christopher. 15 minutes later, a confused Buck shows up at Eddie's door.

"Uh...Everything alright? It's kinda late for a sleepover." He says.

"I messed up." He sighs stepping aside. After a quick explanation to Buck after letting him inside, Eddie is on his way out the door, texting everyone if you're with them. A few minutes into his search, Chimney texts back saying that you're there with Maddie and that he really messed up this time.

20 minutes later he's standing outside of Maddie's apartment, ultrasound in hand as he knocks with his free hand. Maddie answers, hands on her hips, brow raised at him, and sass written all over her face.

"I know, I know. Can I just talk to her?" He sighs. Maddie steps aside and lets him find you on the couch.

"Amor?" He asks cautiously, approaching you carefully.

"What do you want, Eddie?" You ask not looking at him.

"Can we talk?" He asks coming to sit next to you. The picture in his hand is what catches your eye. You look up at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly open. "When you asked me if I wanted more kids, you should have told me you were pregnant."

"I was trying to figure out how you would react." You explain.

"Just because it wasn't in my plan to have more kids doesn't mean I won't love this baby." He sighs.

"Well, when I broached the subject you didn't seem thrilled." You say sadly.

"Well, you started attacking me when I said I didn't want more kids." He says softly.

"I'm sorry." You say.

"Me too." He says taking my hand in his. "Come on, let's go home."

"Okay." You say taking his hand and standing with him. After saying goodbye to Maddie and Chim, you and Eddie make your way to his truck and start back home.

"So, how far along are you?" Eddie asks as we pull out of their driveway.

"6 weeks." You say quietly. He starts laughing and you look at him with amusement.

"Does that mean-" He cuts himself off with a laugh. "That we made a baby-"

"At Bobby and Athena's party, yep." You chime in laughing along with him.

He smiles taking your hand in his and kissing the top of it. Looking into his eyes, you knew that soon, everything would be back to normal and you'd have a new addition to your family.

[hana-no-seiiki]

YANDERE BATFAM x MAKIMA! READER CONCEPT PROPOSAL

is something that i wanted to write for a long ass time now but never really got a full concept for until now so here’s like a bulleted list for the idea and why you should totally like and reblog this so i get the motivation to write a full fic

tw/cw: spoilers for chainsawman manga, yandere themes, violence. this fic assumes you know what makima is so-

in any case, enjoy.

All of this is semi-based on the batfam x makima! headcannons i made before but going more into detail

Basically reader starts off as Batman’s parallel. Less of a nemesis than Joker, but not completely his ally cause you’ll represent the other side of saving people. The ‘necessary evil’ one must make.

Also known as the deaths of many in order to assure a perfect world.

So while Batman’s motto is “Never Kill” yours is “Kill as much as necessary.”

Batman is essentially powerless against you, but you give him one chance. One chance to end your entire concept as a devil. Essentially ending all fear towards control.

This plan comes as Damian Wayne. You are to reincarnate and grow alongside his first born child and that child would choose your fate.

By that I mean he’s the only one who can kill you.

Literally making his ‘born to kill’ backstory even more prevalent.

I won’t spoil the ending ofc but that’s basically the gist of it, or at least the main plot mechanics.

ofc the other batboys appear as well, maybe even batgirl.

but as of now i don’t have that many plot mechanics i can throw at them but Jason Todd

I feel like he’d be a nice wrench in the mix considering he thought Batman’s policy fucked him over.

In any case, any suggestions, additions, changes and improvements are welcomed.

Let’s hope this blows up so I can write a full on fic or something.

OH! And we can also make an alternate version where Batfam aint Yandere if that’s what you guys prefer. Would still be pretty dark though.

[f1byjessie]

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part two.

Friday evenings are typically spent in the comfort of your flat. Normally, you’re half paying attention to reruns of whatever shitty reality TV happens to be on and half scrolling through social media to keep up with the ever-fluctuating trends of content as per your job requirements, all the while eating your body’s weight in takeaway. It’s not the dream, but it’s certainly a dream.

Tonight, you plan on amending things to include going through the pictures of Bali’s stunning beaches that Lando’s been spamming you with throughout the day, but beyond that, you have no intentions of deviating further from your norm.

You’re actually really looking forward to it. Though you’d rather cut off your own hand than admit it to his face and give him new ammunitions to tease you with, you miss Lando during the winter breaks. So much of your year is spent having him nearby━ a near-constant presence buzzing with the inability to slow down let alone stop━ and when he isn’t around, the silence seems louder. There’s no one else who manages to annoy you the way he does, and it’s just not the same without him.

To make matters worse, between your new job, Lando’s travels, and the scheduling conflicts that have arisen in turn, you haven’t had a chance to catch up with him beyond a few back-and-forth messages about his current escapades. So you really, genuinely, truly are looking forward to it.

Garrett Ward throws a wrench into things.

You have mixed opinions of Garrett. He can be very sweet, and he’s gone out of his way to make you feel incredibly welcome in your first week with the Manchester City team. He makes good conversation and seems genuinely interested in what it is you’re doing, often asking questions about your equipment and process, which is a nice change of pace from most other clients you’ve worked with in the past who rarely give two shits about anything beyond the final product. But his reputation is… concerning.

Garrett Ward is infamous in English tabloids for being a notorious womanizer.

There are several articles that come to mind, but the most damning of which is from 2019, before his trade to Manchester City, detailing with very incriminating photos how he’d been seen entering a club with two women and then leaving just a few hours later with a completely different pair. You don’t want to assume he’s the same man now as he was back then, nearly a full five years ago, but you’ve been working in the sports industry long enough to know that athletes can have anyone and if they want then they will have anyone━ there is no shortage of temptation.

And you are not arrogant enough to assume you would be the outlier.

Which makes his interest in you feel less like friendly curiosity and more like something you need to be wary of.

It’s also why━ as you make the trek through the Etihad Campus car park━ you feel dread begin to pool in your stomach as you answer your ringing phone. “Hi, Garrett.”

“Y/N!” He exclaims excitedly, sounding like he hadn’t just seen you barely ten minutes ago in the weight room. “I meant to catch you before you left, but you were outta there so fast I wasn’t able to.”

And there’s probably a reason for that, you want to say, but you hold your tongue. “Yeah, I usually try to be pretty quick about it.”

There’s an awkward pause left open as if he expects you to say more, and when you don’t he clears his throat. “Erm, well, I was actually just calling to see if, perhaps, you would like to grab dinner with me this evening.”

You don’t. At all. It’s one of the last things you would like to do. There are plenty of other hellish things you would willingly rather subject yourself to before sitting down and sharing a private meal with this man━ jumping into the Thames is one of them, and letting Lando drive you around on the autobahn in his Spider is another. Both could very easily result in death, permanent disfigurement, or any other number of horrible outcomes, but neither includes Garrett.

Your hesitating silence must be an answer enough for him, because he chuckles again and adds on quickly, “No strings attached, I promise. It’ll just be two friends getting dinner.”

All you want to do is get cozy on your couch in your pajamas with a kebab from the place down the street and watch pretty people deal with their pretty people problems on TV. You don’t think that’s too much to ask for, but apparently, some higher power does.

“I suppose that’d be alright then,” you agree tentatively, speeding through the stages of grief as you mourn the initial plans of your Friday evening━ the easy, simple, comfortable plans. “Shoot me a message with the time and place and I’ll meet you there.”

“Awesome!” Garrett cheers. “See you later then.”

The peaceful silence that awaits you after you hang up feels like it’s mocking you. Too bad you can’t flip off silence.

“Look, the truth is, City is looking at trading me at the end of the season if I can’t clean my act up.” Garrett’s voice is quiet as he admits the reality of his future to you, but it breaks the silence of the world around you like a gunshot. “And not just loaning me out━” he adds, a twinge of something akin to anger noting his tone, “━but fully trading me. They’re saying that my image makes things too hard for them and the only way they’ll consider re-signing me is if I can either keep my name out of the tabloids or try to clean myself up.”

In Garrett’s defense, he technically did hold true to his promise of just two friends getting dinner. Things were actually going quite well, too. The restaurant was a little more high profile than you would’ve expected for a casual meal, but that can easily be passed off as the luxurious lifestyle and expensive tastes of a pro athlete who can certainly afford it. Expenses of your meal aside, he’d been good company, asking after the ways of working in Formula One and then finding similarities in his football career that made it easy to chat about the struggles and stressors of professional sports.

But you can recognize that this is where it’s all beginning to go downhill.

He’s announced it completely out of the blue as you’re walking back to the garage where you’ve both parked your cars. On top of that, his pace slows and you’re forced to slow down as well to match it until you both eventually come to a halt in the middle of the pavement.

You feel for him, in all honesty. You understand the difficulties of contract negotiations and how easily they can fall apart. The fragility of Formula One contracts is its own special brand of tricky and you’ve seen many friends move on to other teams in the blink of an eye just as they’ve begun to settle down and make their mark where they are. You can’t say for certainty that you understand the mechanics of football contracts to the same degree, but you can imagine they have their own fragile fine print.

But the chill of a January night in Manchester is brutal, and you’ll be the first to admit that your outfit does not protect against it. You don’t really want to be having this conversation in general, because you’ve known Garrett for all of a week which makes you acquaintances at best, but you especially don’t want to be having it now, out here in the cold when all you want to do━ all you’ve wanted to do since this afternoon━ is curl up in something warm and comfortable and pretend the world outside your flat doesn’t exist for a few days.

“I’m not sure what this has to do with me if I’m being honest, Garrett.”

He shrugs. “I just thought you might be able to help.”

You shove your hands in your pockets in a desperate attempt to keep your fingers from going more numb than they already are and shake your head at him. “I don’t know how exactly you think I can help you with that. I’m a photographer, not a PR officer.”

“My agent thinks it would be a good idea if I showed the media that I could hold down a steady relationship. Prove to them that I’ve changed my ways, and have matured.” He shrugs again, nonchalant despite being the one to bring this up in the first place.

“Have you?”

He makes a face, something between a flirty smirk and a suggestive wink, “Well, I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Garrett.”

“Look,” he crosses his arms and levels you with a look that fills you simultaneously with more rage and annoyance than a single person has ever made you feel before. “It would just be for a couple of months, and then we could stage an amicable breakup and that would be that! It just has to be long enough to show everyone that I’m not the same as I used to be.”

You give him a look right back, hoping it conveys how appalled you are by his audacity. “Okay, but why me of all people? Christ knows you probably have a list of women in your contacts who would jump at the chance to pretend to date you for a few months.”

His face pinches up in disgust. “Yeah, but they’re all former hookups, and I mean, they’re kinda psycho about me to be fair. If I tried to end things, they’d probably go to the tabloids themselves and smear my name with the worst things they could come up with.” He shrugs again, and you’re starting to find that you hate it when he does so. “I need someone willing to just play along for the time being and who will be discreet when things are over.”

“And you think I’m that person?” You scoff. “You’ve known me for a week!”

Your voice echoes and it reminds you once again that you’re having this conversation in the middle of a random street in Manchester. It’s cold and dark, and you’ve been attempting to bite back your frustration since the moment Garrett called you. You’ve been as nice as you possibly can be for this man, shy of bending over backward to worship the very ground he walks on, and you’re so close to your limit that you think if he shrugs one more fucking time━

He shrugs. “Well, yeah, but you know how this industry works. So I know you can be trusted.”

You take a deep breath to try and retain what’s left of your quickly slipping composure, before you say, “Garrett, this goes beyond unprofessional. I could potentially get into a lot of trouble for this. You’re technically my co-worker, if not my client by proxy. It’s not a good look for me to be getting with the athletes I work with, considering my entire career is based on working with athletes.”

He makes a befuddled face as if asking what that has to do with anything. It occurs to you that he’s probably never had to worry about the ethics of hooking up with someone when most of the women who are interested in him would do everything in their power to spend a night by his side whether it’s morally just━ or legal, for that matter━ or not.

“That doesn’t seem to stop you from being all cozy with that Nor-whatever guy,” he grumbles.

“What?”

“That driver,” he repeats. “You post him all over your socials, like, all the time.”

You tear your hands from your pockets and throw them up in the air, “Because that’s my job?!” The stupidity of the man before you is genuinely baffling. He’s been asking about your job all week long but the way he’s talking now makes it seem like he didn’t catch onto the fact that your entire career is centered around media and the creation of content made with the explicit intention of being shared.

“I am quite literally paid to take and post pictures of him per my contract with McLaren,” you continue. “And even if I wasn’t, he’s my best friend?! I’ve been working and traveling and spending the majority of my time with Lando since 2019 so of course I’m going to be close with him. Do you not post your mates every once in a while?”

“Yeah, but it’s different. All my mates are guys, so nobody thinks I’m dating any of them when I do it.”

You scoff in disbelief. “I cannot believe this right now. You know, for a moment, I briefly considered helping you. But you’re actually exactly the type of prick the tabloids say you are.”

He takes an intimidating step closer, and his voice drops an octave lower. “I would reconsider if I was you.” You’re not short, but Garrett isn’t either. He’s one of the tallest players on the Manchester City team, and the way you feel now with him staring you down makes you wonder if this is what it feels like to be his opponent on the pitch.

It’s fucking terrifying.

But you’re fucking livid, too.

Your jaw clenches and you bite out sharply, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What it means,” he starts, “is that if you don’t help me, maybe I slip a word about something or other to my boss who slips a word to his boss who is, also, your boss, and suddenly, whoops!” He gives you a cocky smirk, so sure of himself that it makes you feel like your blood is literally boiling. “He’s not your boss anymore. In fact, nobody is your boss anymore, because your ‘slip in conduct’ was very inappropriate and made several players uncomfortable, which doesn’t look very good when trying to get jobs elsewhere in the industry.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Well,” he fucking shrugs. “When you say it like that, yeah. I guess I am.”

You cross your arms, your hands clenched into fists so tightly that you can feel your nails digging painfully into the flesh of your palms. “You’re a real bastard, you know.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that, love.”

If only it were legal to kill a man━ Garrett Ward would be six feet under and picking worms from between his teeth.

You weigh your options, though. You’re not sure how much weight his word actually carries. For all you know, he could tell his boss, they could bring you in to discuss things, and then you could explain it all from your point of view. Garrett is a notorious flirt and you doubt it’s the first time he’s tried to pursue someone who isn’t interested in him. You doubt it happens very often, but it has to have happened at some point. Not to mention, his reputation regarding women is bad enough that Manchester City is already giving him an ultimatum, so you probably have a chance, and the worst-case scenario is that you amicably part ways with the team and that’s that.

But realistically there is a worse worst-case scenario, and it’s pretty damn close to what Garrett is threatening. Losing this side gig wouldn’t really be too much trouble. It would put a dent in your savings, and you’d have to be a bit better about how you ration out your groceries and other necessities around the flat, but losing your job at McLaren? Being blacklisted from the industry entirely? That’s life-destroying. You would lose everything━ all the blood, sweat, and tears you shed to get where you are would be for nothing.

All because of a prick in sky blue.

“Fine,” you utter from between gritted teeth. “I’ll help you. But I won’t post you on my account. I won’t bring you home to my parents. I won’t go round to your flat and I certainly will not have you round to mind. You get one kiss to make it official to the paps, and then nothing more.” You take your own threatening step toward him, and a vindictive part inside you shines with malicious glee when he shifts ever so slightly backward. “If you try anything else, I will run to the papers and drag you through the mud worse than any of your little psycho groupies ever could.”

He scoffs, “You’d ruin your career.”

“But I’d tear you down with me,” you reply.

He takes a moment to think, staring into your eyes and weighing how serious you are. Whatever he sees staring back at him must be convincing enough because he sniffs, nods, and smirks.

“Deal.” He leans down, “I think I’ll be taking that kiss now. Make sure to really sell it, yeah?”

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre

━━ a/n: i feel like i say this every time, but i am seriously blown away by how well the first part of this was received! like, seriously, thank you so much for the kind words everyone said about it! hopefully this second part lives up to the hype of the first, it's a little denser, but the events are important to establish for the rest of the story so it needed to happen!

[corroded-hellfire]

Red Hot - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

Collaboration with the woman who makes this series possible @munson-blurbs 💚

Summary: It’s been one year since you and Eddie discovered your feelings for one another—and so much more. Now, it’s your anniversary and a romantic evening is planned. Unfortunately, life with two little boys around tends to throw some wrenches in your life—even on special nights like this.

Note: I cannot believe it’s been a year since I posted the first part of As You Wish. It was only intended to be this spicy one shot but so many people asked for a part 2 and…here we are! I can’t thank all of you enough for reading. It means more to me than you know 💜

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), breeding kink, oral, m and f receiving, vomit, implied medical issues, age gap, older!eddie

Words: 5.3k

[As You Wish masterlist]

One whole year has passed of you being with Eddie. One year since the night he’d come home sullen after what was supposed to be a nice evening out, only to find that his deepest desire was right there waiting for him on the worn blue couch in his living room. 

Honestly, it was the night both of your wishes came true. Such dark secrets you each harbored, never thinking that the other could possibly return the feelings.  You, thinking he wouldn’t see you as anything more than a babysitter for his two kids. Him, thinking you’d never be interested in a man over a decade older than you. The spark finally lit the flame though, leading to the best year of your lives. The best year of the boys’ lives as well. Neither you nor Eddie had ever seen the kids in all around better moods than this past year—and that’s even with the divorce and custody proceedings. 

A romantic date night was planned for the one year anniversary, a date that came with some discussion at first. You had brought up that you weren’t a fan of having your anniversary with Eddie on the same day that was his wedding anniversary with Brittany. Eddie was quick to assure you that this had just been the night he and Brittany were able to get out and celebrate their anniversary—not the actual day itself. 

“Pretty sure the fun you and I had that night went past midnight, into the next day anyway,” Eddie added with a smirk.

So, the evening was planned. An intimate dinner out together while Ryan has a sleepover at his friend Charlie’s house and Luke spends the night with Wayne. 

Even though you didn’t officially live with the Munson men yet, you did spend more time than not at their apartment. A drawer in Eddie’s dresser contained a stash of your clothes, a toothbrush sat right next to Eddie’s by the sink, and if you weren’t spending the night, the boys would call up at bedtime to say goodnight to you anyway. So, it made perfect sense for you to get ready at the apartment so you and Eddie could just go together to drop Luke off and Wayne’s and then be on your way to the restaurant. 

You’re in Eddie’s room, leaning over his dresser to get a better look at your face in the mirror as you apply eyeliner. Eddie is wearing black dress pants with a gray shirt that make you want to rip them right off. He’s currently securing his hair in a low bun as you do your best not to stab yourself in the eye with the stubby little black pencil. 

Just as you finish applying mascara, you hear the soft pitter-patter of Luke’s feet headed towards the master bedroom. 

“I frew up.”

“Oh, Christ,” Eddie mumbles under his breath, swiveling on one heel. “What happened?”

Luke shrugs. “My tummy hurt and then I frew up. But I got most of it in the toilet; wanna see?”

Eddie just looks at you, twisting the mascara wand back into the tube, then back at his son. 

“Most of it?” Eddie asks.

“Mhm.” Luke scampers back to the bathroom, and you and Eddie follow reluctantly. 

Both you and your boyfriend were expecting the smell to be worse as you step into the bathroom. Your eyes are on the ground, making sure not to step in anything Luke wasn’t able to get in the toilet. 

The sick mess in the toilet—and around it—is bright red. 

“Shit.” Eddie scoops up Luke, not caring that there’s now vomit on his dress shirt. “Luke, did you have any fruit snacks today at lunch? Gushers or Fruit Roll-Ups or something like that?”

The little boy shakes his head. “Just a chocolate chip cookie.”

Eddie looks at you, horrified. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen true fear in Eddie’s eyes, and it curdles your own stomach. 

“We have to get him to the hospital,” Eddie says. His tone is urgent, but not panicked. The last thing you need is for Luke to start freaking out. 

You nod in reply, already heading out into the hall, grabbing all three of your coats from the closet and tucking them under your arm. 

Luke is clearly confused. He keeps looking back and forth between you and his father, his little brow pinching together. 

“Why are we going to the hopsital?” he asks. “I feel good!”

Famous last words, Eddie thinks. He needs both hands and feet to count the number of times his kids have claimed that they weren’t sick just moments before they inevitably crashed. 

Neither you nor your boyfriend know how to respond to Luke, so you silently help him into his coat while Eddie shrugs on his own. The keys clang as Eddie takes them off a peg by the front door and tosses them your way. Then he picks up a still-confused Luke and heads out the door.

You drive while Eddie sits in the backseat with Luke. It’s quite obvious you two adults are more stressed out than the six-year-old is. Both of you keep checking in on him but there’s no deviation from the usual Luke-ness that you know and love. 

“How do you feel?” you ask, glancing at Luke in the rear view mirror.

“I’m hungry; can we get McDonalds?”

When you arrive at the emergency room, you pick up Luke to carry so Eddie can go ahead and alert the employees at the intake desk of what’s going on. 

The biting February wind stings your nose and cheeks as you cross the parking lot, but Luke keeps chatting away as though it’s just a regular evening.

“Did you know that birds feed their babies by frowing up in their beaks?”

“Wow, you know so many things,” you manage, trying to tamper your nausea and nerves.

“That’s like if you chewed up my chicken nuggets and spit them into my mouth.”

���Yup, I’ve got the visual.”

Secretly, your insides warm up, flattered that he considers you the “mommy bird.”

“My teacher got pooped on by a bird today, but she didn’t even notice.”

He continues talking through the whole process: waiting, triage, until he’s assigned a room and asked to wear a hospital gown. The moment you step out of the room to give him some privacy, it feels as if the world outside the small room has gone silent, save for the occasional beep from medical instruments. Now it’s too quiet without Luke’s chattering. Needing to do something besides just standing there, full of nervous energy, you walk down the hall to find a payphone and call Wayne to let him know what’s going on. 

Back in the room, Eddie is trying to get his nerves under control. Nothing’s wrong, he tries to assure himself. And even if there was—which there isn’t—he’s in the best possible place he could be and surrounded by professionals who probably see all sorts of things far worse than whatever this might be. 

“Where are the pants?” Luke asks, looking like a dog chasing its tail as he tries to get a look at the back of the gown. 

“No pants,” Eddie tells him as he ties the strings together in the back for him. There’s a soft knock on the door and Eddie tugs it open. 

You step back into the room and Luke grins and holds his arms out at his sides.

“Look! I’m wearing a dress just like you!”

Despite the seriousness of the visit, you can’t help but smile. Though your purple A-line dress looks nothing like the white gown covered in blue dots that he’s wearing. 

“Now you’re my twin instead of Daddy’s,” you tease.

That makes Luke giggle, and he sits down on the bed, dangling his short legs over the side. It isn’t long before Luke is taken back for tests, most of which Eddie is allowed to accompany him for. You know that’s probably bringing far more comfort to Eddie than Luke at the moment. 

You wait back in the room, anxious thoughts getting the better of you now that you’re alone and have time for your brain to wander. There are a bunch of brochures spread out on a table, so you decide to flip through some of them, keep your mind busy. None of them seem relevant to any medical issue you’ll ever have; then again, you never pictured yourself rushing a kid to the hospital for bloody puke, so you plunk down with a booklet on goiters. It mentions scurvy, which reminds you of Luke, and you have to stifle your amusement before you become known as the Woman Who Laughs at Goiters. 

The nurse brings Luke and Eddie back to the room, along with an old coloring book and some crayons. Artist that he is, Luke is already eyeing the different colors to see which one he’ll want to use first.

“It’ll be another hour until we have all the results,” the nurse announces somewhat apologetically. 

Eddie manages a weak smile as he plops into his chair. You reach over and slide your hand into his. A gentle squeeze greets your touch, and you give him one back in reassurance. 

Finally making his decision, Luke plucks a red crayon out of the box. 

“Did you know that these don’t taste like cherry?”

Everyone—including this poor nurse—stares at him.

“Luke,” Eddie starts, “why would you think it tastes like cherry?”

“Evan Holloway said it did,” Luke replies absentmindedly as he starts to color a fire truck, “but I think he was just kidding, because it tasted gross.”

Eddie bites back a comment about how the kid didn’t stand a chance at being nice with parents like Heather Holloway and Billy Hargrove. It’s not the time or place though.

“When did you eat the crayon?” You investigate further.

“Today during arts and crafts,” he says, tongue poking out of his lips as he concentrates on the drawing at hand. 

You and Eddie both look at the nurse apologetically.

“When I asked you about what you ate today that was red, why didn’t you mention the crayon?” Eddie’s teeth are gritted as he tries to maintain his composure. 

“You asked about fruit snacks, not crayons.” He pauses and looks up from his coloring book. “But don’t worry; I took the paper off first.”

“Oh, good.” Eddie rolls his eyes, and you put your hand on his shoulder. 

Luke’s confession—and subsequent perfect test results—allow him to be discharged. He falls asleep in the car almost as soon as Eddie puts it in drive and leaves the parking lot. 

The ride home is draped in comfortable, relaxing silence. After hours of machines incessantly beeping, doctors checking in, and Luke whining about his boredom, the quiet is certainly welcome. At least now there’s a massive weight off of your and Eddie’s shoulders.

The little boy doesn’t even stir when you arrive at home, so Eddie carries him into the apartment and to his room, gently tucking him into bed. 

“G’night, crazy kid,” he says with a soft laugh. He kisses his forehead, and you do the same before you both head to your own bedroom. 

“Baby, I’m so tired—” Eddie starts, the two of you practically collapsing onto the queen-sized mattress. 

You muster up a nod. “Me, too, Eds.” 

“Raincheck on me rocking your world?” he smirks, leaning in and kissing your nose. 

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I’m home!”

Ryan’s excited voice jolts you awake; when you glance at the clock, it’s only a bit after 7 AM. Charlie’s mom must’ve been eager to end the sleepover. 

Eddie pushes himself up on an elbow and cracks one eye open. “Wait, Ry; how did you get in the house?” He didn’t have a spare key, and Eddie always made sure the doors were locked at night. 

Ryan shrugs. “I rang the buzzer and Luke let me in.”

Eddie groans and lets out a yawn. He’ll have to remind his youngest son about making sure an adult knows someone’s coming into the house, but he doesn’t have the energy now. Instead, he focuses on Ryan. “Ya have fun at Charlie’s?”

“Yeah!” he chirps. “We had—” 

You slowly sit up, trying to keep your temper at being woken up. “Can we hear this story over breakfast, Ry?”

He agrees and bounds into the kitchen, you and Eddie sleepily trailing behind. 

Luke is already halfway through a bowl of Frosted Flakes when the three of you walk out to the kitchen. 

“Ryan!” he shouts, way too loud for this early in the morning. Cereal sprays everywhere, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I went to the hospital last night!” 

Ryan’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “What?!”

“Yeah! I just told Grandpa about it.”

Eddie frowns in confusion. “When did you talk to Grandpa?” He grabs a bowl from the pantry and pours himself some cereal. Nothing sugary like the boys eat; those days are behind him. 

“I just called him before when I woke up,” Luke says with a shrug.

You throw some Eggos in the toaster for Ryan while the boys both regale you with their respective tales. Luke manages to make it sound much more fun than it actually was last night, tapping into his father’s knack for storytelling. Part of you is surprised there’s no supernatural elements to this tale. 

A little later in the day there’s a knock on the door. Eddie turns the knob and is surprised to see Wayne on the other side. He raises his eyebrows as he regards the older man. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks before realizing how that sounded. “I mean, hi.”

“I told Luke I was coming over,” Wayne says, nodding to the younger boy coming up behind his father. 

Eddie looks at the boy as he closes the door behind Wayne. 

“Luke, you never told me that.”

“You didn’t ask.”

Even though he already told him on the phone, Luke once again laments the events of last night to his grandfather. Once he’s done, Ryan tells Wayne all about his sleepover at Charlie’s last night. 

When he finally gets a moment to talk to you and Eddie without the rugrats around, Wayne offers to take the boys for the rest of the day and overnight so the two of you can have a do over on your anniversary date.

“You sure, Old Man?” Eddie asks.

“Positive. I’ll just keep ‘em away from crayons.”

The moment the three of them leave, Eddie locks the door behind them and grabs your hand to drag you into the bedroom.

“Eds!”

“Oh, right; where are my manners?” Eddie admonishes himself. “I should take you out to eat first.” He heads into the kitchen and fishes the brochure for your go-to Chinese restaurant. Not even needing to ask you, he orders your favorites before hanging up and turning back to you. “Now, time for my meal.” There’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “If you don’t cum in thirty minutes, your next orgasm is free.”

The moment your back lands on the bed, he tugs off your pants and panties and buries himself between your legs. There’s time for slow and romantic later, you both need each other now.

“This pussy is perfect, goddamn.”

Any response is futile as words have left your brain the second Eddie’s tongue flicks over your clit. He does it over and over again, causing your abdomen muscles to tighten and your fists grip the blanket below you. 

You let your eyes fall closed and lose yourself in the feeling of Eddie sucking on your clit. He knows the exact speeds and pressures to get you where he wants you, changing it up in the most pleasurable of ways. As your back arches off the bed at a particularly harsh suck, Eddie slips two fingers into your waiting hole, meeting no resistance. Being stretched by and filled with Eddie just has you that much closer to hitting your high. 

Eddie pumps his fingers in time with his licks and it isn’t long before you feel that familiar heat building up in your body. Your boyfriend must be able to sense this as well, because he curls his fingers up against your walls as his tongue continues to flick over your sensitive bundle of nerves. It’s enough to have you seeing stars. Part of you wants it to last longer, but you know Eddie will do this again and again for you if you ask. The thought of him wanting to make you feel good and wanting your body so much is the push you need into oblivion.

“Fuck! Oh shit, Eddie,” you whine, a hand going down to grip his hair. “I’m—I’m coming.”

Eddie knows how to extract every last wave of pleasure from you as he works you through the orgasm. This he’ll take his time with, after being in such a haste to get you off. You feel boneless as you lay on the bed, utterly wrecked from your boyfriend’s thick fingers and sinful mouth. 

You whine as Eddie slips his fingers from your pussy, but the whine turns into a moan when he pops them into his mouth. It’s suddenly given you a burst of energy.

“My turn,” you say, giving him a salacious grin. 

Eddie flings his shirt into an abyss of laundry and rolls onto his back so you can trail kisses down his torso. He giggles when your fingers brush against his stomach as you unbuckle his belt and tug his pants off. His erection springs free, already leaking pre-cum from getting you off. 

“Such a pretty cock, Eds,” you muse, your lips tenderly touching the head. “And it’s all mine, huh?”

“Y-Yup,” his breath hitches. “All yours; please, please suck it for me.”

You happily oblige—as if there was any doubt that you would—licking from base to tip with a flattened tongue. His thighs twitch at the contact, the movement punctuated with a low groan. You never knew how much you appreciated a vocal man until you’d slept with Eddie. Now it’s a goal of yours to get him to make as much noise as possible.

“Oh, princess,” he growls, fingers twisting in the sheets. “Baby girl.”

Your hand grasps the part of him that doesn’t fit in your mouth, leaving no square inch of his cock untouched in some way. You want—no, you need—to make him feel good. Thinking back to that first time together, fueled by lust, but also a desire for one another. A longing that had burned steady in both of you. Eddie could have waited up for Brittany and had lackluster sex; you could have hooked up with that guy from your anthropology class who’s always checking you out. But that wouldn’t have been satisfying; you craved Eddie and Eddie craved you. It was impossible to satisfy that urge any other way.

He bucks his hips gently now, his signal that he’s close. You pump him faster, grip him tighter, until he’s spilling into your mouth and down your chin. 

Once you’re satisfied that you’ve milked everything you can from him, you pull off and swallow his load. Eddie manages just enough strength to lift his head up as he attempts to catch his breath. His eyes darken as he watches you lick your lips and wipe off the cum that drooled out onto your chin and pop it in your mouth. 

“God damn,” Eddie breathes out. 

You share in that sentiment. This fast and rough sex is exactly what the two of you needed after such a scary and stressful evening last night.

The doorbell rings and your boyfriend flops his head back down, his curls spilling around his pillow like a halo. 

“Want me to get it?” you offer, pushing yourself off the bed.

“Uh uh,” Eddie tuts. He haphazardly reaches over the side of the bed to search for his boxers. “Only I get to see you looking this wrecked.” A playful wink is thrown your way as Eddie sits up. He hops off the bed and slips on his boxers, sweats, and an old Deep Purple t-shirt. “You get dressed, baby.” 

“Don’t wanna,” you say with a pout. 

It makes Eddie chuckle, and he presses a kiss to the side of your head before reaching for the knob on the bedroom door.

“Don’t worry, we can take them off again later.”

Eddie strolls out of the room, and you raid your drawer in his dresser. There’s an old pair of jeans shoved in the back that you pull out and hop into those while you scoop one of Eddie’s old Hellfire shirts that he let you cut and customize to your liking—a true sign of love right there—laying over the arm of a chair. 

When you meet Eddie in the living room, he’s unpacking your food into the coffee table. There’s a pile of VHS tapes in the corner of the room, and though most of them are the kids’, you manage to find Benny & Joon and pop that into the player. 

The moment you plop down on the couch next to Eddie, he wraps his arm around your hips and tugs your body up against his. 

“It’s difficult to eat with one hand, you know,” you tell him when he doesn’t move his arm.

“I’ll deal.”

Somehow, he does—even if it causes a bit of a mess on the couch and coffee table.

Eddie swallows a mouth full of rice and turns to look at you. His eyes take in your profile, the expression on his face turning to adoring almost instantly.

“I’m really grateful that you were there with me last night,” he admits, voice softer and more serious than usual. “I don’t know if I would’ve been able to handle that without you.”

The way that you look at him from beneath your eyelashes takes his breath away. He gets just as stunned by your beauty now as he did when he opened the front door that first time he met you.

“Yes, you could’ve,” you assure him. “You’re stronger than you think, Eddie. But I’m glad you didn’t have to do it alone. There’s nowhere I’d rather have been at the moment than with you. Well…I’d have liked not to have had to go to the hospital at all, but you know.”

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head. “Turns out we didn’t need to anyway.” Your boyfriend sighs and runs a hand over his face. “God, Luke’s gonna kill me someday.”

“Kill you with his cuteness, you mean.”

“You mean because he looks just like me?” Eddie asks, a cocky smirk dancing on his lips.

“Of course,” you say with a chuckle. You lean in and press your lips to Eddie’s, resting your hand on his chest.

“You mean the world to me,” Eddie whispers against your lips. He knows he’s told you that many times, in many different ways. But it’s because he needs you to know how true it is. Having a partner who he can count on and trust with his life—with his son’s lives. It’s new to him, and even after a year, it surprises him every day how much you do for him and the boys. Your kindness and your heart are bottomless, he’s decided. And though he has no clue how he got so lucky, he’s not about to question it.

“I feel the same way about you,” you reply, also in a soft tone. Eddie always tells you the way that you make his life better, but he tends to brush you off when you try to do the same. He believes you deserve more than him, but he doesn’t realize there isn’t any more than him. He is everything.

“I can’t believe we’ve been together a year,” Eddie says. Sometimes it feels like it went by in the blink of an eye, but when he thinks about all the shit the two of you have had to overcome, he thinks that a year feels about right.

“Best year ever,” you say. “Even dealing with a certain psycho couldn’t ruin it.” You don’t want to mention Brittany by name, but you need to let him know that you’d do it all over time and time again despite her and all the bullshit.

“Aw, come on. Ryan’s not that bad,” Eddie jokes. You giggle and bury your face in his neck. Electricity sparks where your skin rests against his and Eddie wraps you up in his arms. “Happy anniversary, baby. I love you much.”

“I love you too,” you murmur against his skin. You go to wish him a happy anniversary as well, but Eddie’s loud growling stomach steals your thunder and sends you into another round of giggles. “Would you like some of my food?”

“God, you’re perfect.”

Not five minutes after the two of you finish your food, Eddie has you on your back, his body resting comfortably on top of yours as you makeout. The kisses are slow and passionate, taking your time to explore one another’s mouths. Hands roam each other’s bodies, some soft touches and some rough grabs—all of it possessive.

Needing air, Eddie pulls his mouth from yours and begins to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Strong fingers dig into your hips as you lift your own hands to tangle in his soft curls.

“Bedroom?” Eddie growls against your skin.

“No,” you say, wrapping your legs around the man’s hips to keep him where he is. “Want you here.”

“Mm, whatever my princess wants,” Eddie mutters, punctuating it by grazing your jaw with his teeth. Slowly, he sits up, bringing you with him until you’re seated comfortably in his lap.

You shiver, his tongue warm against your neck and hands strong on your back and sides. It’s as though you can’t be close enough to him, your hips rolling to create a friction that has both of you aroused. 

Eddie unbuttons your jeans disapprovingly. “Don’t know why you even bothered to put these back on,” he tuts, apparently forgetting that he was the one who told you to. “Now I gotta rip ‘em off again. Making this harder than it needs to be.”

“Tell me more about making things harder,” you tease, grinding against his stiff length with the intent of feeling him through your panties. 

“You’re trouble,” he murmurs into your mouth, a smile twitching on his lips. “I fuckin’ love it.”

Your pants get shrugged down your legs, not even making it all the way off, and your lace thong gets pushed over slightly to expose your pussy. Eddie pulls himself out of his boxers and runs his cock along your soaked core before aligning himself with your entrance. 

“Tha’s it,” he moans as you sink onto him, taking every inch within your walls. “Fuck, you know exactly what I want.”

You bite your lip and nod. It’s as though your brain clicks off when he first enters you, your head filled only with thoughts of Eddie Eddie Eddie. 

Once you regain some semblance of sanity, you hold onto his biceps and bounce on his cock, the tip hitting your sweet spot over and over. “So big—so full,” you manage, eyes rolling back as he thrust up into you. 

“That’s right; you’re fuckin’ full of me,” he grits out, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. “And I’m gonna pump you full of my cum, too.”

You nod before gently biting down on his shoulder. “Please. Want your cum.”

“I know you do, princess. Because I’ve gotta fill you with my cum to knock you up, don’t I?”

You can only whimper in response, but that isn’t satisfactory for your boyfriend. 

“Words, princess.”

“Want you to knock me up!” It comes out in one pathetic breath. 

His thrusts become more frantic, needier. “Oh, I don’t think you want it,” he goads. “I think you need it. I think you need me to get you pregnant, so you can show off that you fuckin’ belong to me—and only me.”

Tears form along your lash line; your orgasm is so close, but you know he can withhold your pleasure if you don’t answer him. “Need your baby,” you whisper. “Need everyone to know I’m yours.”

“God fuckin’ damn.” The thought of you swollen with pregnancy has him unhinged, his thumb circling your clit as his own release nears. “Gonna fuck you so full.”

You clench around him, chanting his name while you cum. He follows, holding down your hips so he can slam into you and give you every last drop. 

A string of breathy whines leaves your lips as you lower your head down to Eddie’s shoulder. His grip on you softens and slowly glides up your body until one hand trails up and down your back and the other cups the back of your head. 

“How was that?” he murmurs.

“Fucking amazing and you know it,” you mumble against his shoulder. 

Eddie chuckles and you pick your head up to press your lips against his. 

“Don’t wanna move,” you say with a sigh.

“I know, sweetheart,” Eddie coos. “Just want to keep me inside of you forever, don’t you?”

As hard as he just made you cum, you shouldn’t get so instantly turned on by his words and teasing tone. And though he may be teasing, he is also absolutely correct. 

You push against his chest playfully and reluctantly move yourself off of his lap. As gracefully as you can manage—which isn’t very—you lay back down on the couch. A trickle down the inside of your thigh tells you that Eddie’s cum is escaping. Your boyfriend seems to notice this just as you do.

“Absolutely not,” he says as uses two fingers to shove it back into you. 

The feeling has your eyes fluttering closed as you let your muscles relax into the cushions. 

“Ah, shit,” Eddie says.

“What?” you ask, forcing your eyes open. Eddie’s looking down and you follow his line of sight to see that some of his cum got away from both of you and landed on your jeans. “Oh, it’s okay. They’re—huh.”

A giggle begins to bubble up out of you and Eddie raises an eyebrow in question.

“Eds, these are the same jeans I was wearing that night,” you tell him.

“Our first night?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I couldn’t find them when I went to get dressed. Someone else did though and threw them in my face.” You chuckle at the memory. “I didn’t even remember I had these jeans stashed here at your place.” 

“And as nice as they are,” Eddie drawls, crawling on top of your body, “I think you look far better without them on. Or any pants. Or any clothes.”

You smirk up at him and drape your arms around his neck. “What do you say we make some new stains, then?”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

[gators-aid]

decode (pt. 1) - toji f. x reader

masterlist | part two.

previously titled: leave us

you and toji fushiguro have been in an on-again-off-again relationship all throughout high school. over the summer break after graduation, you find out you're pregnant. too bad toji has already skipped town after your last breakup.

tags: fem!reader, childbirth (not explicit), cheating, gun violence, mention of domestic abuse (not between toji & reader), teen pregnancy (reader and toji are both 18-19 range), mentions of abortion, mentioned that toji sold drugs, americanized setting, non sorcerer universe, 00's setting, reader is megumi's mom, toji initially denies megumi is his, i aged up gojo, geto, and shoko so you can have some frens, exes to lovers (eventually), their relationship is toxic rn, not beta read we die like toji :(

wc: 2.3k

You knew your chances of making it out of this town were slim, but in the back of your mind you had always hoped that you would be one of the lucky few. Finally, you had made it to high school graduation without dropping out or being shot, but you did not make it out unscathed. 

Pregnant.

You didn’t find out until the summer after graduation, when you were still working out financial aid and payment plans with the money you had saved up working at a local diner for the past three years. Toji had already skipped town by then. It stung a little. Learning from his older brother that he had packed up in the middle of the night and left without so much as a goodbye was almost worse. Even though you broke up weeks before graduation, of course he had to throw in one more wrench in your life while he could.

It didn’t truly sink in until you told your mother. Your mother, who was so excited for you to get out of this town since she couldn’t. Who vowed to help you out with tuition payments to get you through school. It wasn’t until you saw her disappointed face that you became angry. Not only at Toji, but at yourself.

She had always warned you about Toji. How he was good for nothing, bad news, just a bomb waiting to go off. You, maybe too young, maybe blinded by love, brushed off her concerns. When he had to go to juvie for a couple months for an assault charge, you stuck by him until he got out. Filling his commissary account with the measly tips you earned from work when his family wouldn’t. Visiting him at every possible opportunity, even though the bus ride to the detention center was a three hour round trip. When he was shot in the shoulder and came to your window bleeding in the middle of the night, and you had awoken her, terrified to death that your boyfriend would bleed out in your bed. He refused to go to a hospital, meaning you and your mom had to stitch him up with rudimentary sewing skills. When he left a couple days later, you had sobbed into the bloody sheets your mom was helping you throw out. When you and Toji broke up for the first of many times, you had cried into her shirt for days on end. You ignored it all, and came crawling back to him every time. 

The first time was because he had cheated on you with a girl in the class above you two. She was older, more confident, more experienced. You had to find out through word of mouth when a friend of a friend had seen them making out at a party you had to ditch for work. At that point, you two had only been together for a couple of months. Probably a bad omen and a warning for how the rest of this relationship would go. You cheated on him with one of his (now ex) best friends to get back at him. You were both young and were each other’s first everything. You had no idea how to navigate a relationship’s complexities, especially one as serious and tumultuous as the one you two had. It only took a bouquet of roses and an apology to get you to come back (in addition to that one dude getting his ass beat).

There was another time when you two had gotten into an argument over his attitude that escalated into a breakup. It was triggered when he had smart mouthed you about a simple comment you made, to which you threw his cheating in his face and you two began to insult each other for the rest of the night. When you arrived home two hours after curfew that night, your mother just held you until you stopped crying.

Your final breakup, the one before graduation, was simply because you were terrified for him. He was selling drugs, and you could see him looking over his shoulder every time you two went out in public. You gave him an ultimatum, and clearly he hadn’t chosen you. He was in too deep, and you didn’t want to have him showing up shot at your house again. Or worse. 

You should have listened to your mother. It was all too much for high school kids. He could bring out the worst in you, but you figured that's just how it was here. You couldn’t count how many of your best friends had abusive boyfriends, abusive parents, lost loved ones to gun violence or something worse. Toji had never laid a hand on you, had never even threatened too, so at the time you thought you had it pretty good. 

But Toji wasn’t all bad. He had his flaws, had done some fucked up shit, but you had never felt more safe in your life than when you were with Toji. He wasn’t affectionate in public, but in private, his favorite thing in the world to do was caress your hair until you both fell asleep. He loved to sneak into your bedroom window after your mom went to sleep just to hold you until you drifted off. When you’d pull doubles almost every weekend at the diner, Toji would bring you food from your favorite restaurant, and you two would eat in his beat up pickup truck until you had to get back to work. When you would visit him in jail for those couple of months, he always had a drawing or an art project made as a gift for you to leave with. For your first christmas together, Toji bought you a beautiful gold necklace that you hadn’t taken off a single time until graduation. 

He put you head and shoulders above every other person in his life. He didn’t like to talk about his parents, but you knew they had given him the permanent scar on his lip in his youth. His brother was grade A asshole #1, and the uncle that he was placed with after a lengthy CPS investigation when he was twelve treated him more like a burden than a person. Toji clung to you. When it all got to be too much, and he was scared you would hurt him too, he would lash out. 

And now there was Megumi. Years ago, when graduation was far away and you and Toji were in a good phase, you two had a conversation about what you would name your kids. 

“Mmm.. I think I’d like to name her Megumi," he had stated. You two were in your room, whispering to each other as he had snuck in that night. 

“And if this hypothetical child were a boy?”

He paused for a second and thought. You giggled at his face as he took longer to ponder. “Probably still Megumi.” He had finally said. 

“Can I ask why that is?” You traced the lines of his bare abs under the covers.

He chuckled and leaned to hover above you on the bed. “Because if we have a child together, it’s a blessing for me either way, mama.”

He sure didn’t act like it. 

It was a cold day in December when you gave birth to Megumi. He came almost a month early, nearly a week before Toji’s birthday. You had wondered, when your mind wasn’t clouded with pain, what Toji was doing as you laid there in the worst pain you had ever felt in your life. Maybe he was out somewhere celebrating his birthday early. Maybe he was dead on the side of some road. You didn’t know, but you couldn’t afford to think about it too much. 

But when Megumi was born, you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but love him more than anything in the entire world. 

When you found out you were pregnant, you would have aborted if you weren’t three months along. If you hadn’t had your friends at that time, you don’t know where you’d be today. Gojo, Geto, and Shoko had all grown closer to you after that summer. Some people you never expected to see after graduation became your lifelines. You guys had been friends in school, sure. Shoko was even the one to tell you about Toji’s cheating. You guys had never been close until the three of them saw you at work and started cooing over your baby bump. 

While your mom was the only one in the room during Megumi’s birth, those three waited outside for hours until they could meet your son. 

The moment Megumi was placed on your chest, and you had let go of your mother’s hand for the first time in hours, you knew that Megumi was the absolute love of your life. You would do anything for him. 

Over the course of your pregnancy, you hadn’t tried once to reach out to Toji. You were too hurt and angry to want anything to do with him. After Megumi was born, and you found yourself in your childhood bedroom with a crib in the corner, you decided you didn’t want Megumi to grow up without knowing his father, even if said father was a piece of shit. 

So you had called Toji. It was one in the morning. You had just put Megumi down for the third time that night and stepped outside onto the porch to dial Toji’s number. It had been almost a year since you had last heard from him. You didn’t fully expect him to pick up.  

“Hello?” you heard.

For a second, you couldn’t say anything. Frozen over hearing his deep voice for the first time in forever. Realizing just how much you had missed him. His voice was cold, but it was still his voice. You almost didn’t notice when you began to sob. 

“Y/N?” he asked, a bit frantic at the sound of you crying. “What’s going on? Are you ok?” For a moment you couldn’t catch your breath, almost gasping for air. “Answer me mama, what’s going on?” It took you a couple more minutes before you could compose yourself.

“Yes.. I’m sorry. I’m okay. I’m just..” 

It was silent from a moment. 

“Why are you calling me?” His panic from earlier completely dissipated, he was back to a monotone pattern of speech. You paused. Leaning up against the door to your mother’s house. Contemplating how to tell this man, who, if you’re honest, is probably the love of your life, that he has a son. 

“I, um, I have something to tell you.” You kicked a pebble off the porch and watched a car drive by. Toji said nothing, willing you to go on. 

“I… I gave birth last month..” you said. You could feel your nervous energy manifesting in the finger nail you began to chew on. “You have a son..”  It was cold outside, you gripped your sweater, one of Toji’s old ones, tightly around you and sat on the porch steps. You could see every bated breath in the frigid air.

For a moment there was nothing. It felt like forever, waiting for him to respond. Then he laughed. A cold, distant laugh. “How in the hell am I supposed to know if your kid is mine? I haven’t seen you in a year, I don’t know what the fuck you got goin’ on.” 

He was pushing you away, probably scared. You knew that. But you weren’t mature enough to call it out. You were emotional, vulnerable, and now you were angry. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You whispered into the phone. “Do you realize you ruined my whole life? Left me here without a word, all alone? Now you wanna… what.. Try to claim I was cheating on you or some shit?” As you spoke, your voice pitched higher and higher, rage building. 

“Who said anything about cheating?” He laughed. “You could’ve made your way around after you broke up with me. That’s your business.” You could hear people’s voices in the background, a woman said something to him on the other side, to which you could hear him distantly tell her to lay off. 

There were the tears again but this time they were of rage. “So you get to go out clubbing, leave this town, leave me, and when I call you to tell you about your own… your son, you wanna call me a liar?”

“Left you?” This was the first emotion other than indifference or arrogance you could hear in his voice. Anger. “You left me. Don’t push that shit on me. I don’t owe your ass nothin’.”

“I left you because you were selling fucking drugs, Toji. After I had asked you, I begged you to stop. You chose that over me. You. left. Me. Seems like I made the right fucking decision because I’m not having my fucking baby around that shit. Around you.” By this point, you were practically yelling. You moved from your position on the steps to a corner of the porch closer to your house, pacing as you argued.

He laughed, “That’s perfectly fine with me, I don’t wanna be around some other dude’s baby, not my responsibility.” 

Your teeth grinded back with every word. “I’m glad you think that way, Toji, because he won’t ever be around you. It’s fucking-” your voice cracked. “better that way.” 

“What you fucking call me cryin’, trying to push some random fucking baby on me but I’m the fucking bad guy? Fuck off. Dates don’t match.” 

“I’m not explaining myself to you, fucking asshole. Have a nice fucking life. I’m done with you.” You hung up before he could respond. 

For a second you just stood there, watching your cold breath linger into the night. Then, you leaned against the side of the house and slid down to the ground. 

No more crying over Toji Fushiguro. You won’t let yourself. You won’t give him another thought. You and Megumi will be just fine. 

please let me know how you felt about this story! i plan to post the next part super soon! send me prompts and asks if you want too!! this is my first fic in this fandom and also the first time i've written in years, so forgive the clunkiness!

also let me know if i missed any tags!

thank you <3

[lovebugism]

“Remind me why I can’t kill the carolers?” with a grumpy scrooge eddie!! maybe he and reader move into a new neighborhood with friendly neighbors who go all out for christmas and are always caroling? i can’t imagine the people of hawkins showing up at his door lol

ty for requesting :D — the metalhead freak gets stuck with a bunch of carolers and runs to his girl for comfort (established relationship, fluff, eddie "loves being babied" munson, 1.2k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Eddie moves to the nice side of Hawkins with you. Not the suburbs, exactly, but pretty damn close. 

It’s a house with stairs and a sliding back door, both of which only existed in movies for a kid who grew up in a trailer park. The backyard is fenced in, too — big enough for a dog. A couple of them, even. And maybe a pool if his music career takes off. The realtor also told you that the school district is “to die for,” and even though that’s not really an issue right now, Eddie figures it’ll be important sometime soon.

These are all things you’re supposed to care about when you’re settling down with someone you can see a future with. Eddie thinks so, at least. He can see himself getting old with you, in this house and on that front porch. He’ll be holding your hand on your afternoon walks until both of yours are spotted and wrinkly.

The only bad thing about life (halfway) in the suburbs is running into all the assholes he used to know in high school. Vicki Carmichael was walking her too-expensive dog yesterday morning, and the afternoon before that, Tina Burton had the whole cul-de-sac down the street shut down for her kid’s first birthday party. What the hell is a one-year-old even supposed to do with a bouncy house?

It’s totally trippy. 

But Eddie’s been able to avoid them well enough. Or maybe everyone else is avoiding him. Either way, he’s grateful.

“No— where are you going?” you whine as Eddie slides open the glass door of the shower. You’re still getting used to being able to do this with him now that you’ve moved into the new place. The bathroom back at the trailer was barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

“I’m already done, and you’ve barely even started,” he answers, laughing at the dramatic desperation in your voice. 

He steps onto the plush mat outside the tub and wraps a towel around his tattooed hips. Steam flows out, and the outside cold swoops in. It pricks your skin and makes you shiver. You duck under the faucet for warmth until he closes the door behind him.

“You’re gonna be in here forever, and I’m gonna get all pruney,” Eddie insists, right before shaking out his damp curls like a wet dog.

“You usually like it when I take my time,” you joke, laughing when it makes him silent.

Eddie’s brain gets all foggy at your words. Worse than the heavy steam filling up the bathroom. He’s contemplating whether or not to jump back into the shower with you — and really let you “take your time” — but a knock on the door throws a wrench in his plans.

“Can you get the door for me, honey?” you ask just to tease him, ‘cause you know he’s milliseconds away from pressing you against the shower wall.

He listens to you, because he always listens to you, and then ultimately decides he never will again.

Eddie leaves the warmth of the bathroom, shoves on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that do little to protect him from the bitter cold outside, and finds a number of familiar faces standing on his porch. 

It’s an entire crowd of people who used to bully him in high school — plus a bunch of snotty private school kids — all dressed up in the most horrendous, white-bread Christmas outfits the world has ever seen.

“Oh, shit…” Eddie mumbles under his breath, the evidence of his words leaving in a thin white cloud. He hadn’t even meant to say them out loud. They just sorta spilled out in the moment. Honestly, he thinks he might be dreaming.

The town’s resident metalhead is forced to sit through a botched rendition of Deck the Halls and Holy Night. And since you’re still in the shower, you can’t even swoop in to save him from it all. He just suffers through the half-out-of-tune caroling while his drying hair frizzes, a wavering smile of confusion stagnant on his face. 

When they’re finally gone, Eddie shuts the door with a chest-deflating sigh. He isn’t totally sure he’s taken a single breath since he opened the damn thing.

“Who was that?” you call from the top of the stairs, a fuzzy towel clutched to your chest. The warm scent of your body wash flows from the opened bathroom door and down the steps.

Eddie turns to look up at you from the bottom of them. He feels so suddenly drained. Like he just ran a marathon or pulled an all-nighter — something utterly exhausting that’s taken a piece of his soul. Maybe it’s dramatic, but he feels a little like his suffering has stripped ten years off his life.

“Remind me again why we can’t kill the carolers?” he jokes as he trudges up the stairs, the railing of them lined with glowing garlands.

“Those were carolers?” you gape, eyes wide and brows raised to your hairline.

Answering the door isn’t really Eddie’s thing. Conversations with strangers at the door aren’t really his thing, either. You think he might’ve just lived through one of his greatest fears.

“Yeah,” he scoffs, laughing through an exhausted sigh. He walks to your shared bedroom and flops on the center of the bed. A heavy sigh falls from his lips like he just got done working a twelve-hour shift. 

You’d laugh at his dramatics if you thought they were anything but totally real. So instead, you sit gingerly beside him, careful to keep your towel from falling, and try to comfort him without giggling.

“Shit, babe. I’m sorry,” you mutter, rubbing a palm up and down the length of his back. You’re grateful he can’t see your smile from this angle, lest he think you aren’t taking this seriously.

“Oh, don’t be,” he tells you, muffled into his pillow. Sarcasm drips from his honeyed lips like venom. “It was tons of fun seeing Jason fucking Carver on our doorstep.”

“Jason was out there?” you gape, a little louder than you mean to. Your shock is palpable.

Eddie huffs and turns onto his back. “Yeah— did you know he has a kid now?”

“What?”

“Uh-huh,” he nods with a small smirk. The life returns to the chocolate of his eyes now that he can gossip. “She was a really cute baby, you know, considering. The odds weren’t really in her favor there.”

You tilt your cheek to your shoulder and cup his jaw with a warm hand. Your thumb rubs gently over the flushed apple of it, tinted cold from the outside weather. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save you,” you tell him, half playful but with a sincere glimmer in your eye.

“No, it’s okay,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’m glad you weren’t there to see that.”

You can’t tell if Eddie knows you’re teasing him or not. Or if he’s joking about the whole thing ‘cause it’s over now. Your boy’s too hard to read for his own good. You decide to keep pitying him anyway. His love language is basically being babied.

“Want me to make you some hot chocolate?”

He nods, a small pout jutting out his rosy lips. “With the mini marshmallows, please?” he mumbles.

You bend at the waist to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Whatever you want, babe,” you promise in a gentle murmur.

[mrsnancywheeler]

the lakes (3) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter / next chapter

midnight rain

2.3k words

warnings: angst, talk of mental illness and su!cidal ideations, allusions to trafficking, mentally unstable reader who's in denial, allusions to death and violence, hurt/comfort, arguments, something gets thrown in anger, terms of endearment, dreams of domestic bliss, savior complex Finnick and reader, no use of y/n, unedited

⠀ 𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The familiarity of the train car made you shudder. The first time its elegance had amazed you, but now it was commonplace, a trade for everything else that had been given. The escort who you'd known for years, but always blocked out because of her unmatchable insensitivity was babbling on in her overwhelming syrupy voice as your brain buzzed with anxiety. When the smashing of a glass on the train's wall brought you back to the audio of the train cab.

“Can we wait to break things until the games? After all this time, Finnick, you still need your manners." She tutted, waving her hand in the air. “Plenty of time to get the aggression out later, right now just bask in the attention. Now I'm going to go check over the mentoring plans." Her neon purple eyebrows were so animated when she spoke and the color assaulted your eyes, the click of her heels echoing she exited.

Finnick had buried his head in his hands over a counter top as you quietly knelt down to pick up pieces of shattered glass. An Avox would end up cleaning the mess later, but you didn't feel comfortable just leaving it there.

“Why can't I help you?" His voice was much softer and more broken than you'd expected. Calloused hands holding his face as he stared out the train window.

“Help me?" Your confusion was evident. "You have helped me.”

“No I haven't, I'm an enabler." He shook his head, sniffling through the tears you hadn't noticed forming, your heart cracking.

You stood, dropping the glass pieces you'd been holding to approach him. "No you're not, Finnick, enabling what? Talk to me.”

He turned to you, "Talk to me. You're always trying to take care of me, angel, and I love that about you. But you use it as an excuse to hide the fact you're not doing better.”

"I am doing better, I don't understand what you're talking about, Finnick! I understand if you're angry, I just-”

"What? You looked at Annie and thought, ‘She’s too fragile to handle this, so why don't I take it all on for her? I can handle this.’" 

You nodded, “I can! I couldn't let her- I couldn't let her die.”

“But you can let yourself?" He had raised his voice ever so slightly, but it was enough that your chest was tightening. “You're punishing yourself for what you had to do to survive when you were 17! This isn't about altruism, this is about guilt."

“I'm not selfish.” Your voice was steely, you were angry. Why was he trying to pry at things that were of no matter to the present issues? "I'm doing my part, it wouldn't be right of me not to!" 

"Nobody thinks you're selfish except yourself. You could die because you want to prove something about what happened in the arena. That arena is gone, you need to focus on the now. On your now, not mine. You want to suffer in silence, you want to focus on everybody else to make up for living.”

"Stop it, Finnick! I don't want to talk about this. Be upset with me, but there are more important things to focus on.” You refused to make eye contact as you wrapped your arms around your body. There was a rebellion to plan for, no time for a psychoanalyzation of your brain, so you needed to deflect.

“You're my wife, angel, there's nothing more important to me than that. Especially since I've done such a shitty job letting you sit there, comfort, and listen to my problems while you only ever ask to be held. Why don't you trust me?” He stepped closer to you, voice delicate.

"I do trust you.” You kept your eyes planted on the ground. He was supposed to be angry or sad, but not whatever this was.

"Then why don't you say anything after you get a call from the Capitol? Why is it always only a few minutes after your nightmares to discuss how you feel, but every other waking moment is about me? I want to protect you, I want you to stop ruining yourself over the past and let me help you like you do for me.”

“I don't want to talk about it, Finnick." You were pushing down the onslaught of tears beginning to fall down your frozen face. “Can we please, not talk about it." You whispered as you shrunk into yourself.

“We have to start dealing with it, you are self-destructive, just because you hide things doesn't mean you're better set then Annie is. You are not going to step into this arena and sacrifice yourself for someone to make up for the fact you killed Conway six years ago."

“You're being mean."

“No I'm not, I'm being honest. You won't deny it because you know I'm right, this is a suicide mission to make up for all of them. Dying the second time around doesn't bring them back and neither will anything else. But if you put yourself in danger to make up for things we all had to do to be where we are now, you'll be killing me too.” 

You began walking straight past him, to comfort and be comforted was the dance that held you which was being broken as each second passed. This was unfair, having trauma didn't make you as hurt as him or Annie. You just had natural human feelings about what had happened and reconciling for that wasn't dangerous.

“You can't just walk away when I stop coddling you for a second, this is all going to be okay, if you can recognize and let me help you heal. If we're gonna do this I need the rational version of you." He trailed behind you as you kept walking.

“I don't need to be coddled, I'm sorry if you're sick of me trying to help you and everyone else, but that doesn't mean-" You gasped for air, “I'm just, I'm trying to help, maybe I am making up for what I did. I'm just sorry and I'm trying to help because I can't bear seeing other people having that light snuffed out of them. I want you to feel safe, and Annie, and Mags, and Ondine, that helps me.”

"See we can start there, you don't have to make up for what you did. Everyone did things to survive, we were kids. I can help you if we talk about it.”

"How are you supposed to help me, Finnick? I did worse things than you did, of course I'm guiltier, I preyed on someone's mind, on their feelings for me and then I killed them. And I'm so, so sorry for it everyday of my life and I feel it gnawing at my insides. I'm sorry that he's dead. I'm sorry that I was manipulative. I'm sorry for the person's I created. I'm sorry that I lied to you. I'm sorry that you're right. I'm sorry that I need to make it go away, Finnick, and it won't go away until I give it something equal even if it means I-” You wiped the tears from your face, “Finnick, I don't talk about it because being with you is reason enough to keep my grounded most of the time. I don't need to say anything when I see you and it's an easy reminder why I'm living."

“You shouldn't want to live just because of me. I want to be there for you, but when you feel that way I need you to be honest. You don't need to atone for any things, you deserve life. If we're going to go into that arena, you need to start believing that because I will not let you die. I love you and I need you to survive, to make it through with me to the end.”

You'd stopped walking and were leaning your back against the train wall. Nodding slowly, you were exhausted.

"I know you don't believe that right now, but I will make you believe it, my love.” His hand caressed your face and the radiating warmth made your ice cold face shudder.

You stared at him in silence before you let the sobbing take over your body. " I'm sorry, I don't know how to deal with it. I want to be better, I do, but I just can't. It won't go away.” His arms enveloped you like sunshine, guarding you from everything else.

“I know, sweet girl, I know." 

             𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Meanwhile Haymitch had to take the initiative to begin introducing his new tributes to the pack of well known, well introduced victors. Unbeknownst to Katniss and Peeta, he would of course be pulling strings to make sure they were in close proximity or at least had the attention of certain victors for the plan being hatched.

Katniss had not seemed thrilled at the idea of Finnick, but she was rarely thrilled with anyone.

“This year we have some volunteering, which will definitely spice things up a little bit. Two couples in one game, especially when one has been adored by the Capitol for years will keep their attention." Haymitch gestured to the screen where you were sending Annie back to the line with the other female tributes.

"Didn't she also have a relationship with the male tribute last time, isn't that how she won her games?" Katniss asked.

“Yes, Capitol Princess, she is just as adored, but more tame. The less cocky side of the duo you could say."

“I bet you he's not going to protect her when it comes down to it since she did the same thing last time. He's got to know that's just how she plays the game." Katniss reasoned, doubt of everyone taking hold.

“I'd be extremely surprised if that happened, they've been with each other for years and oh-" The cameras zoomed in on the seaweed and made rings on your fingers as you held hands. “Looks like that bond has gotten ever stronger. They'll be a pair and if she does die it would be a sad day, Katniss. She's a really nice lady regardless of what she did to win at 17.”

"It's not that different from you, you just got lucky.” Peeta remarked.

“I'm just saying she wouldn't be an easy ally to trust, I mean didn't she kill all of them when it came to the end?" Katniss shrugged, leaning forward. 

“This isn't about trust, it's about survival. You need allies, even if it means they end up dead at the end, you need them to survive. You're both fresh meat, these people have built a repertoire with each other for years. You're gonna need some of them on your side for as long as you can." 

"And you want us to go with them?”

" It wouldn't be a bad idea.” Peeta shrugged, "If he's gonna protect her then we'll be protected too.”

"Yeah until we become perceived threats too.”

"Hey, I'm just laying out your options. There are 22 tributes to pick from, I know these people so I'm giving you my insight. Whether or not you decide to take it is up to the two of you.” Haymitch gestured at both of them before turning back to the screen." So District 5.”

              𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Finnick, what's the plan?" You asked as you two lay in the silky sheets of the bed.

"We have to get Katniss to trust us so we can get her out of the games. We'll be able to plan more once we get there.” His hand lazily lay on your shoulder,  grazing strands of your hair.

"And you'll keep me updated? No secrets?”

"No secrets, my love.” You hummed contently as you snuggled yourself deeper into his shoulder. "When we're in the arena, you need to stick by me. They'll probably try to split us up somehow, we can't let that happen.”

"I can take care of myself if it does.” You assured.

"I know that, but I need to know that you're safe. That you're not trying to throw yourself in front of someone else to save them before you.”

"Even if it's Katniss?” You said lightheartedly.

"We need to get her out of there, but I won't let that be at your personal risk. I owe you a real wedding, remember?”

"Oh, I remember. One with a dress.”

"Any dress you want, angel. So you have to listen to what I say, just this once, and stay with me in the arena and do as I say to stay alive.”

"That's two times.” You joked. " I don't know if I'm capable of doing that.” 

“Haha, very funny." He rolled his eyes. Silence took over for a second and you closed your eyes to let yourself rest with him. “I promise we'll get out of this and you'll get the life you deserve, we deserve."

“I trust you."

“Good because I mean it. We'll have our house back overlooking the ocean where little kids will run around outside, soaking up the sun and salt air. They'll have your beautiful laugh and your hair that'll whip around as they run.”

"And you're angel eyes, plus that disarming smile. We'll have to be on the lookout or we'll always give them their way.”

“You can read to me as I fish, you can sit on your favorite rock and I'll collect you all treasures. Annie and Mags will watch them so we can occasionally sneak away to swim in the sunset." 

"Oh you've got it all planned out, haven't you?”

"Of course, my love, the perfect life we can have when we're free from all of this.”

"Then I guess I'll have to listen to you to make that happen.” You laughed tiredly, body relaxing.

"Exactly, Mrs. Odair, so I can make sure our dreams come true, that everyone gets a chance to do the same.” Oh, your sweet, sweet boy. 

             𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you all so much for reading and for all the feedback! someone mentioned wanting to see haymitch presenting them and I thought that would be a great addition so thank @almostjollypizza for suggesting that! not gonna lie this was kind of a difficult chapter to write but I hope you guys enjoyed it, I'm excited to get to the Capitol and the stuff there. I have so many ideas! likes, comment, tags, reblogs, and asks are all super appreciated, love you guys, thank you! 💋

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