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an-idyllic-novelist · 3 months

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Husk with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

warnings: aged-up!reader [early to late twenties], spoilers for episode 4 to the season finale, mentions of physical abuse and attempted drugging, violence, Husk's language, dismemberment, mentions of cannibalism.

Hey guys, and welcome to another Hazbin Hotel fics, this time featuring our grumpy bartender and one of my favorite characters, Husk! :) This is a collaborated project with not just @isuckatwritingsobenice, but also with @vikkirosko, @witch-of-the-writing-desk, and @riddle-simp, who gave me honest feedback on the rough drafts and how to make it the best fic I could create before sharing it with the world.

If you would like to see more of Husk x Violet, please do let me know know in the comments section or as an ask! Like always, bullying is not tolerated here so if there is any implication of it happening here, this scenario will be taken down immediately. If you have nothing nice to say, do not say it at all.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see who will win the full house at the card tables tonight :)

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Husk isn’t gonna deny it. It ain’t like him to deny the truth when it’s staring at him right in the fucking face. He thinks you are a little bit of an oddball. You don’t smile, you wear the same outfit every day, and you don’t eat much either unless Niffty practically drags you to the staff’s dining room from wherever she found you hiding. Normally, it’s one of two places: out in the backyard, or the greenhouse, because you’re the hotel’s groundskeeper. And that was on your days off.

Like Angel, you worked for an overlord, but your boss wasn’t that shitbag Valentino or Vox or Velvette. Your boss is Rosie, the owner of Rosie’s Emporium in the Cannibal Colony. You were her personal secretary. You had been on her payroll for over ten years, working from nine to five unless you had to stay later. She did not seem to mind you staying at the hotel so long as it did not affect her reputation or your work ethic in any way.

So far you’ve kept your word. Alastor actually seemed to be happy that you were around.

Maybe. Husk couldn’t fucking tell what that son of a bitch is thinking anymore. But back to you.

You, who believed in Charlie’s work.

You, who participated in each activity and helped around without getting paid for your time.

You, the expressionless ex-military soldier, has been on his mind recently and he did not like it.

He lost the ability to feel anything years ago.

Nonetheless he continued to observe you from afar. When you weren’t busy with watering plants, you were seen in different parts around the hotel with the others.

You would sit with the princess in the parlor, comparing ideas on what tomorrow’s group exercise should be, even when the only two ideas you’ve suggested were shot down immediately by Charlie. She didn’t like the idea of group bonding through hand-to-hand combat but loved the concept of showing appreciation to one another through handwritten letters. Vaggie approved the former. The latter? Not so much.

In the kitchen you would go through the cookbook with Niffty and Alastor, trying to decide on tonight’s dinner. They allowed you to help out, at least when it didn’t involve cracking eggs. Apparently you were not very good at separating the yolk.

When Sir Pentious was away from the hotel doing God knows what, he trusted you to look after the Egg Bois until he got back. You kept them busy around the greenhouse though they tended to make a bit of a mess.

Angel started to work extra late at the studio after his show and tell presentation. Something about making a big commercial and Val wanted to make big bucks on this new product that the Vees were launching in a week. You must have noticed that something was off about him, but you didn’t say anything to him. No words of encouragement, no comforting hand on his shoulder. All you did was clench your gloved hands into fists, watching him leave and…unsure of yourself. What you should do.

Husk heard you asking Niffty what were some of the kid’s favorite foods about that time, and she was more than happy to help you with whatever it was you needed as long as you left the kitchen sparkling when you were done. You were concerned about the kid. Least from what he could remember. He drank a lot that day.

When he woke up much later after falling asleep at the bar, hearing your footsteps descend down the grand staircase and towards the kitchen. Groggily, probably stupidly on his part, Husk thought it would be a great idea to know what the fuck you were up to so early in the morning. Turns out you were trying to cook something, judging from how you looked at the ratty cookbook propped up on the counter and the wide array of ingredients spread out.

He saw you cook finely chopped onions, garlic, and minced ground meat in the large frying pan on the left side of the stove. You stirred something in a smaller sauce pan on the right side with a wooden spoon. He saw you handle all of the ingredients with great care, placing them in a baking dish even when you weren’t wearing your leather gloves. A small shudder crawled down his spine at how the kitchen lights bounced off of the adamantium skeletal prosthetics that acted as your hands.

He didn’t even wanna know how exactly you lost them in the Great War.

Everything was soon laid out, layer by layer and placed in the oven. He didn’t know he stood there for so long, even when you began to clean up the kitchen with a rag. Time ticked by slowly, and then a delicious aroma tickled his nose even as he took another swing of the half-filled booze bottle he was holding. He was about to leave you alone, knowing you’d be fine when he saw you pull out the dish with your hands and no oven mittens on, you fucking moron! Then his mind remembered something that stopped him from making an entrance. You couldn’t feel anything with your prosthetics, not even as you placed it on the stove top to let it sit.

A couple of hours later - maybe he can’t keep track of time anymore so it might have been the following morning - he saw you giving Angel a large paper bag every morning before both of you left the hotel, and telling him to have a good day.

Angel grudgingly thanked you later on that evening when he got back…though did say your garlic bread needed some work. The next day, he gave you a paper bag, telling you to taste real Italian grub and try to replicate it.

Guess it became a game between the two of you, ‘cause Angel was slowly being someone real and not some fake whiny bitch.

As odd as you are….you cared about everyone in your own way, even when the words that came out of your mouth angered someone or made them cry, you tried. You never asked for help unless it was necessary, trying to learn everything on your own. And you were smart, Husk will give you that.

And he…he doesn’t know if he had the heart to tell you that redemption might not be possible. Unlike him, you still carried a spark of hope. You believe in the princess. He doesn’t want to be the one to see you reach your breaking point, to be dragged into a swamp of despair and get drowned in all sorts of addictions to cope with the pain. He was…anxious. No. He was scared for you. He wanted to help you but he was afraid that by intervening, he would just make matters worse.

It was better to just stick to the sidelines with a bottle of booze and watch everything happen like the bartender Alastor wanted him to be, right? Well, turns out he was wrong.

One night after he made Angel a drink and called him out on his bullshit for being fake, the whiny little bitch stormed out of the hotel. Vaggie tried to make him go out and bring him out, but Charlie intervened. All she asked him was to make sure that Angel was okay. Do not force him to come back if he isn't ready. Obviously judging from the distraught look on her face, something happened between the princess and Angel.

Husk did not know what or why, and he really did not want to play the role of a goddamned babysitter. Not when it was actually a slow evening and he didn’t have to hear these fucks bitch and moan for hours on end. But Vaggie’s glare, knowing Alastor would force him to do it because he fucking can and not knowing what would happen if he actually violated the terms of their contract, he left the hotel. The first place he went to were the streets. No luck. And no one had seen him. When he moved his search to the bars, he spotted Angel going inside one of them.

Long story short, he was going to hang back and just keep an eye on Angel getting drunk off his ass with some shady sharks in a corner booth until he saw one of them pour something into Angel’s drink. He took care of the fucker, got Angel out, and listened to him. Angel Dust was not just an act. It’s who he needs to be. Drinking and getting high is his escape. He wants to be damaged so that he won’t be Val’s favorite toy anymore.

Then when it seemed like they came to an understanding with a song, those bastards opened fire on the streets, targeting him and wanting Angel to come back to have some ‘fun’. Yeah, fuck no.

That was when he heard car tires screeching against the asphalt, doors opening and closing with more shouting. Husk gritted his teeth. “Shit.” He turned to Angel. “Stay down. I’ll take care of this.” He pulled out his cards, ready to hop onto the roof of the pink Volkswagen they were hiding when he heard a shnk, a high pitched squeal, then a gurgle.

THUD.

Shnk.

THUD.

C-crack.

THUD.

“Who the fuck is this bitch?! Kill her, kill her you stupid asshats!”

“Holy shit, toots?! The fuck - why is she here?!” Angel cried. Husk raised his brow, craning his head as far as he could without being in range of a bullet to see what was going on. There were only two people Angel called toots and he was pretty damned sure they were back at the hotel, safe and sound. Not one of them blitzing across the street, dodging bullets and slicing enemies down with a hunter’s knife in one hand, a large carpet bag in the other.

He blinked. Nope. He was sober. Shit. He thought as you weaved between the shitheads, disarming, decapitating, and snapping their necks in no particular order. You weren’t exaggerating when you said you were a weapon for the army. When he saw a flash of movement from the smaller grunt, twirling a knife and aiming it for your head as you pumped lead into his friend, Husk made his move. Hopping onto top of the car and threw his cards. One cleanly sliced the asshole’s neck.

He quickly made through the growing crowd, running towards you as he threw some dice into a hammerhead’s mouth. But when he turned his back towards them, he felt something light and strong coil around his neck, cutting off his air supply.

Fuck. Garroting wire! Husk flailed around scratching, kicking, and trying to get loose but the fucker was too damned strong. Black spots began to appear in the corner of his eyes when he felt a white hot stinging pain graze his left cheek, then something warm and sticky with a metallic scent. Blood.

The body behind him dropped, and so did he, yanking the wire off him and inhaling deep gulps of precious oxygen. Husk looked up and saw Angel with a shit-eating grin and a Tommy Gun in his upper hands.

“Eat lead, sucker!” The porn star cackled, firing several more bullets into the corpse and his buddies that were closing in on them. Angel grinned at him, extending a hand to help him up.”I told ya. I can handle myself, baby.” Husk felt a grin stretching his own face as the fella pulled out more weapons with more arms. Well….not something he was expecting.

Between the three of them, they made quick work with the rest of the gang and their reinforcements. Like him and Angel, you were covered in grime and blood but you were all right.

“Are you two all right?” You asked as you wiped off the blood from your knife with a handkerchief, the carpet bag by your feet and in pristine condition. “No limbs missing that weren’t missing before you arrived?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” Angel said, putting away his guns and extra limbs. “More importantly, why the fuck are you out here instead of the hotel?!” He interrogated, his voice lowering an octave as he glared at you, stomping towards you. Before Husk could stop him, Angel grabbed your cheeks with his hands and pinched them. “You know these streets are dangerous, toots! How many times do Vags and I gotta tell ya?! Come straight home when you’re done with work!” Then he blinked, his face turning white, his eyes widening in horror. “Toots,” He said slowly. “Y-you ain’t hooking up with anyone around here, are ya?!” He yelled, now pulling your cheeks outwards as if you were a cartoon character.

You didn’t flinch from the cheek pinching or pulling; instead, you looked at him in slightly confusion. “I don’t understand. What does fishing have anything to do with this except that these men were quite literally loan sharks standing outside a nautical-themed bar?” You asked.

“Toots.” Angel said warningly. “If you don’t give me a straight answer, I swear to fucking God I am going to yeet you off a rooftop.”

“ ‘Yeet’?” You repeated.

“[First Name], just tell us why you’re here.” Husk said, already feeling a headache coming on and in need of a drink. You turned your attention to him, then back at Angel before you spoke.

“Rosie sent me out on a last-minute errand to get fertilizer for her plants. But by the time I got there, the shop was already closed. I was on my way home when I heard the gunshots, and saw the two of you being pinned down. I was not going to leave my comrades behind when I could help them. So I did. And now,” You looked over at the bodies strewn across the street. “I have what I need. Two birds with one stone, as Rosie says.”

“Ya mean ‘kill two birds with one stone’, toots?”

“Yes.”

“So, by fertilizer, ya mean these schmucks that we just totally obliterated.”

“Yes.”

“Food for plants.”

“Carnivorous plants. And if the fertilizer is fresh, the better it is for them. Rosie loves her plants very much.” You said, pulling away from Angel and grabbed the carpet bag off of the ground, walking towards the nearest body. “If you do not want to be here, I suggest you leave quickly.” You knelt down, laying the bag down and opened it, laying out assorted tools. Bone saws, knives, a large roll of plastic wrap, etc. “Rosie says I have gotten much quicker at dismemberment.” You carefully peeled off your gloves, replacing them with gray surgical ones.

Husk glanced at Angel, eyebrow raised. It seemed like they were thinking the same thing because the latter spoke up with a toothy grin.

“Baby, I was a mobster long before I was a porn star. ‘Sides, hacking up a body all by yourself is gonna take you all night. Better to have more hands to get the job neater an’ faster, am I right Whiskers?”

Husk smirked. “Can’t argue with that, Legs. Guess you’re stuck with us until this job is done. You got another bone saw in that bag of yours?” He asked with a grin, somehow…happy to actually be doing this. Who would have thought a new friendship started with cleaning up bodies?

You stared at them for a moment, obviously stunned because you must have thought they’d leave you here alone, before you pulled out two more bone saws and more rubber gloves. Your instructions were simple enough: the severed pieces couldn't be any bigger than your body, and they needed to be wrapped up tightly in the plastic wrapping or else you’d have to pay a hefty cleaning bill to get the blood out of the bottom of the bag. Angel’s extra limbs came in handy for the latter task. Between the three of them, they made quick work with the dead loan sharks and everything was loaded inside the carpet bag, and no one was the wiser. This was Hell, after all. Cannibalism, gun fights, and dismemberment was commonplace in these parts.

You thanked him and Angel profusely, bowing your head to them before you shyly asked if they would be interested in getting a bite to eat. To Angel’s knowledge, the closest place that is still open late at night is Devil’s Diner, which is half a block from Jackpot, the casino Husk had owned from his glory days as an overlord. The food wasn’t too bad there, and cheap too.

Now that he thought about it, Husk had worked up more of an appetite after the fight and so did Angel. Better to do that than trying to cook something and waking up Niffty. So, the three of you went to Devil’s Diner. Of course, you tried to just have a cup of coffee, but neither he nor Angel were having it. Conditioning your body to minimize nutrients to complete a mission, his ass.

Both he and Angel persuaded you to try the day’s special with some water plus dessert. Whatever you couldn’t finish, get a to-go box. Husk himself ordered a sandwich with chips. Angel got pancakes, sausage, strawberries, and a strong drink because he fucking deserved it.

Conversation started slow at first, but as the orders were placed and drinks were served by their waiter, words were exchanged, and stories were shared. Angel revealed he had a little brother and more family down here, though he rarely talked to them anymore after getting into the show biz. Husk confessed that he used to be a magician in Las Vegas, showing off a trick with his cards.

They shared a good laugh over Val’s shitty eyesight. It shouldn’t take thirty minutes to count three bills, but it fucking did for the moth man.

You told them that you were once commissioned to help a playwright finish his newest script after being on a hiatus for many years, but he had been a difficult man to work with because he had no interest in doing anything else except drinking his days away. You had actually acted out a scene on the lake where the hero would journey home to be reunited with her father after vanquishing a monster. That was when you began to understand how grief affects people in different ways…and how your actions affected the people you had killed on the battlefield. People who had families and had one-day wishes that would never be fulfilled because they died by your hand. You are here in Hell because you are, you were, a weapon to be used in war. Reconnecting with people, with your emotions…it’s a lot harder than you thought it would be.

“That’s what being human is all about.” Husk said. “Ya make mistakes, ya regret the choices ya wish ya would have made, or should’ve made, and ya need to live with it.” He knew that better than anyone.

“The old timer’s got a point but look at how far you’ve come!” Angel exclaimed, spreading his arms out as he began listing all the good things you have done and accomplished since you came to the hotel, though you still needed to learn how to bake real Italian bread, not just heat up the cheap frozen ones in the oven. Husk silently agreed with him, taking another swing of his whiskey. In the end, you got a to-go box, but Angel said he could take it back with him to the hotel. You still needed to deliver the body parts to your cannibal superior and Husk said he’d go with you. But you insisted that you would be fine on your own, and that he and Angel should get some rest.

“Rosie will not let me stay long in the emporium with how late it already is. She’s very particular about keeping the lights on after business hours.” You said, the corners of your mouth tugging downwards into a frown as your gaze fell upon his wings. “Husk…you were twitching a little and I heard your spine crack earlier, and your voice sounded a little raspy. I do not know what the cause of your ailments beyond the scuffle with those loan sharks could be because I am not a doctor…but it would be better if you and Angel took it easy for the rest of the night.”

Keep in mind that Husk had once been an overlord. Yes, he’s been out of the game for a while, he won’t deny it. But he was not going to admit that you might be right. “There’s nothin’ to worry about, I’ll be fine. If I can handle a fight, taking you where you need to go will be a walk in the park.” He grumbled, ignoring Angel’s snickering.

He watched you raise your hand, fingers outstretched towards one of his wings, and then you pulled it away to clench your hand into a loose fist. Husk saw your hesitancy isn’t because you were disgusted at the sight of them, or his appearance. Hell, you had more bloodstains on your clothes than him and Angel combined. No. You were hesitating because you were afraid that your touch might hurt him, or make the pain he was feeling worse.

Husk grinned as he grabbed your wrist, pulling it forward and carefully coiling the gloved fingers around the outer part of the left wing near his forearm to give it a squeeze. “See?” He flexed the muscles. “I’m fine. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.” It took him a second to realize how impulsive his actions were, seeing how your eyes widened and hearing Angel release a low, teasing whistle, muttering “Kinky~!” under his breath. Great. The kid wasn’t going to let this go, not even after a few drinks. Shit. Fuck.

He tried to ignore the warmth flooding his face as he kept his gaze on you until you nodded your head, removing your hand from his wing. You were convinced that he was more than fine to accompany you back to Cannibal Colony, at least for the moment. You turned to Angel. “Are you going to be okay, heading back to the hotel on your own?”

Angel smiled toothily. “Toots, you should know me by now. Sex isn’t the only thing I’m good at.” He winked, holding up the to-go boxes as he turned on his heel, waving his extra hands over his shoulder. “See ya back at the bar! Ya still owe me a drink, Husker~!” Now that he left the diner, it was time for the two of you to make your exit.

You walked down the steps and looked at him. “Ready?”

Husk nodded. “Yeah.” He then held out his paw to you. “Let’s get going.” You nodded, placing your hand in the center of his own, covering the golden-heart shaped paw before he scooped you up in his arms, one claw under your legs and the other around your shoulders. You stared at him.

“What-”

“Hang on tight.” Husk did not give you a chance to respond, unfurling his wings to their full length before putting all of his weight on his back leg, catapulting the two of you into the crimson skies of the Pride Ring. Walking was fine and all, but as you mentioned, it was already pretty late. Why waste more time when he could fly there?

So here you were, held like a princess with one arm wrapped around the carpet bag and your hand placed on his shoulder. But instead of screaming your head off or pleading with him to land somewhere, your attention was elsewhere. You were captivated with the multi-colored pin pricks of light down below, your mouth partly open and [Eye Color] irises widened by a fraction. It was obvious that you hadn’t seen Hell from above. Or maybe you hadn’t traveled by air before. Either way, seeing such an expression on your face, one that wasn’t calm or expressionless like a doll who lived by someone else’s order.

You looked like a living, breathing human who had her own thoughts and could find beauty in the most bizarre of places.

It almost made Husk consider extending this flight for a little longer until he realized he’d have to explain to you in great detail as to why he did decide to do it. So he brushed it off, and followed your instructions to your destination.

Twenty minutes later, the two of you arrived at the stone steps leading up to the glass double doors of Rosie’s Emporium. The dimly lit streets were mostly empty, the bars were still open and echoed with raucous laughter and jazz. It was tempting to slip inside there for a drink, but Husk wasn’t too keen on being around cannibalistic drunks. Alcoholic he might be, he wasn’t that stupid. And he didn’t want you to get in trouble with the overlord who ran this place. She was your boss, not his.

He watched you put a hand into your coat pocket and pulled out a small golden key. You put it in the dead bolt, twisting it to the left before pushing the door open. “Miss Rosie?” You called out, stepping inside the darkened establishment. “Miss Rosie, it is me. I am back.”

A moment of silence enveloped the place, but only briefly because soon a tall, thin woman in a burgundy dress with an oversized hat and feathers materialized in front of you. She was at least two or three heads taller than you, smiling down with rows of sharp, gray teeth and pitch black orbs. “Oh there you are, I was startin’ to really get worried! Did John give you everything for my precious little sprouts?”

You quickly explained what had happened, how you could not see John because he had closed the shop by the time you got there but the fertilizer you collected from a gun fight you got into and came out victorious should be more than enough. Rosie was all but delighted, twirling in a small circle as she cooed.

“Ohh, I knew it was a good idea to hire you from the moment you came for the interview! I wish I could’ve seen you at work, using that bone saw and hacking away at corpses, but there’s always another day~! You know how many people come in wishing to have their husbands or wives ripped from limb to limb, at least the ones that taste bad! Ah?” She stopped dancing, craning her long neck to stare at him. “Who’s this you brought with you, [First Name]?” She looked over her shoulder, wagging a finger at you with a raised brow. “Come now, I know I said I wanted you to find a good fella someday, but this one’s way too scruffy for you and you’re much too young for him! Oh, I’m just kidding, I know you’re dedicated to your job! Well? Introduce us!”

You did, introducing him to the overlord as Husk and the hotel’s bartender. Alastor must have told her about him because she immediately called him ‘Alastor’s kitty cat’ and ‘how he used to be such a sophisticated-looking fella until he gambled against Alastor’. She laughed. “Well, small world, after all! [First Name], be a dear and take that bag into the back, will you? I’ll feed the little monsters myself, and you can go home! Oh, did you want some pinky fingers to go? I’ve got plenty of them and you probably didn’t eat dinner again, am I right?”

“Understood. And no thank you, though I will take up on the offer to try one of those roasted legs next time.” Husk almost gagged at your monotone words and Rosie’s cackle, but he had to keep his composure. As far as he knew, you were not a cannibal. And if you were…well, you probably wouldn’t have gone out of your way to help him and Angel, or at least order something from the Cannibal’s Section at the diner instead of force feeding yourself on the daily special.

You might have only been gone for a few minutes, but it was awkward to stand near Rosie, the way she smiled at him like she was thinking about adding him to her menu for not dressing up in a vintage outfit. At least he hoped not. He could barely contain his relieved sigh when you appeared again, hands empty with no bag in sight.

“It’s done.”

“Wonderful~! Now, you march up to bed as soon as you get in the door young lady! No staying up late!” She said, following the two of you to the door. “Give my regards to Alastor and tell that man he must come back soon! These halls have lost their sparkle without his lively presence! Oh! Before I forget~!” She snapped her fingers, and in a puff of dark red smoke, a large wad of bills materialized in your hands. “Here’s your paycheck! I know it’s a little early but I have a very important task for you to do tomorrow!” She grinned. “Go to town and buy yourself some new clothes for work!”

You faltered. “But -”

“Tomorrow is your day off I know, and I really, really love your enthusiasm when you try to come in to help around, but a proper lady of society cannot live on just one dress and a pair of boots! Oh, and you will also need to get a Hellphone in case something like this happens again! No ifs, ands, or buts! If Alastor throws a fit about it, I’ll talk to him! Now, shoo! Husker, be a dear and get my darling worker back to that hotel safely, all right?” She added with a wink.

Husk grunted exasperatedly but did not say a word. The last thing he wanted to do was go pissing off an overlord who just happened to be the Boss’ friend. So he just nodded, and followed you out of the door. When it shut behind them with a click, things got…awkward. Now that you weren’t carrying around a bag full of body parts, there was no need to fly all the way back to the hotel. Or at least that he thought you were thinking.

But he told you that he didn’t mind, since Charlie was probably already worried about the two of you even if Angel had somehow managed to persuade her otherwise. So…you agreed, albeit hesitantly. Husk didn't waste any more time. He scooped you up in his arms and took off into the night skies, though with this being the Pride Ring, there was really no way to tell if it was day or night anymore. Cannibal Colony soon became another darkened spot, getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared from sight.

As soon as the two of you made it back to the hotel, Husk had no doubt everyone would be giving him shit. Angel would make comments on his little ‘date’ went, which he’ll deny in every possible way, and the princess might be cryin’ from anxiety or relief knowing that two of you were all right. But that was then. This is now. And…he’s come to like holding you in his arms.

“Husk?”

“Yeah?” He felt the arms around his neck tighten slightly…but not that it wasn’t too uncomfortable. It felt…okay. Like you were trying to say something, but you struggled to find the right words to say without sounding like an ass.

“Thank you…for everything.”

His lips stretched into a grin. "You're welcome."

He felt the cold of your palms, it would seem, through the gloves, but it was not so important. Because as the two of you flew back to the place you called home, he saw you smiling down at the Pentagram in wonder, whispering the places you had visited and or wondered what they were or if he knew anything about them, to which he either answered yes or no. It was such a small smile, but how could he not commit not it to his memory?

And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to get a drink with you on a night around town. Or make one for you at his bar. He knew how to make a good non-alcoholic pina colada, even an alcoholic version of it. But who knows? He’ll take things one step at a time, and see what happens.

What Husk did not realize at the time, not too far in the distant future, you would be the one to close the gap between them…and there would be something more between the two of you. Something that made his days in Hell just a little brighter.

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stylesloveclub · 7 months

Text

Prose (part 2)

In which not many students attend Harry's office hours, and y/n's kind of burnt out.

+++

“What’s that drink you’re always drinking?” Harry asks, sitting across from y/n in his office.

She’s the only student to show up to his office hours this week (again), and had come to ask about the first essay that’s due next week. While she types on her computer, writing down all the notes that Harry just gave her on her first draft, Harry finds himself staring at the iced drink sitting next to her laptop.

“Oh, it’s just an iced chai. I’ve been getting two pumps of pumpkin spice syrup in it recently though, since Starbucks has their fall flavors now.”

“Hm. I’ve never tried the fall drinks.” He twirls his red pen between his fingers, leaning back in his chair comfortably. “M’always too scared to try new drinks, y’know? Like what if I don’t like it? Then I’d have wasted five bucks and I wouldn’t even have a coffee to get me through my day.” He pouts to himself at the thought of it, and y/n finds it terribly endearing.

She’s happy to know that Harry is seemingly very comfortable in her presence, prattling on and on about the simplest of things – like coffee orders and his favorite food places on campus. When she first walked in, the first thing he’d asked her was her favorite place to grab lunch on campus, since he was starving and one of the other TA’s had offered to drop off some food for him. His personal favorite was the bagel place (he could have a cream cheese bagel at any time of the day, he told her), but that place closes early, so he was stuck between getting mexican or sushi.

Y/n advised him to stick with the burritos – her ex-roommate once got food poisoning from the sushi. Never trust the on-campus sushi, she warned.

“M’kinda like that too,” she responds once she finishes up her essay outline. “I usually just always get the chai, ‘cos I know I’ll like it. But sometimes I’ll be adventurous with like, the syrups I add, because it doesn’t really make a difference. Like right now, I have pumpkin spice syrup in here, and I can barely taste it so even if I didn’t like it, it’d be fine.” She takes a sip to somehow prove her point. “I just like adding the pumpkin for the fall vibes.”

“Is fall your favorite season?” he asks. It’s been a lot of this – Harry asking her questions, getting to know her. She wonders if it’s because she’s the only one who shows up to his office hours and, therefore, is the only person whose ear he gets to talk off – or if he genuinely is interested in her. The thought of it makes her heart want to do a backflip, but she kindly tells her heart to CALM THE FUCK DOWN before she starts getting carried away in her train of thought. Harry’s just a nice guy! A nice guy, who talks to her about books, and shares his umbrella, and gives her rides home when it’s rainy outside – and has pretty pink lips, and pretty green eyes, and pretty brown curls.

“Yeah, I think so,” she hums.

Her crush on him seems to grow more and more every time she sees him, like those tall annoying weeds that you constantly have to dig out of a pretty flower garden. The type of weeds that seem to grow back even stronger each time you cut their roots and spray anti-weed chemicals on them to ensure that they don’t come back. She’s tried to smush those bothersome butterflies in her stomach, continuously reminding herself that he’s just her TA. That he’s just being nice. That he just calls her smart, and tells her that she’s doing a good job, and praises her discussion posts because that is literally what a Teaching Assistant is supposed to do. But whenever he smiles at her with that boyish dimple and his eyes glimmer all sweetly and romantically and thoughtfully – well she just can’t help it! She’s given up and has let the crush invade her brain like the invasive garden plant that it is.

It’s just a harmless little crush, she rationalizes. Just a little fantasy of kissing him here and there to get her through her boring lectures with Dr. Richmond – nothing wrong with that, right?

She clears her throat, “What’s your favorite season?”

He stares up at the ceiling, pursing his lips thoughtfully, “Hmm… probably spring. I like seeing the flowers bloom, especially after a snowy winter.”

Oh, of course he likes seeing the flowers bloom. He’s a walking piece of poetry.

+++

Harry stands at the front of the classroom, lecturing once again. It’s the same as before – fourty-ish college students hanging onto every word like his words are a waterfall and they’re a group of dehydrated travelers.

He loves teaching, loves seeing the way his students’ eyes light up with wonder when he explains a certain theme or points out a new motif. He’s more than happy to hold their hand through the novel, be their guiding light through the Romantic era. Their questions make his day, and he’s beyond happy to see that, now that they’re a few weeks into their course, the students are opening up.

“Victor is so caught up in his experiment,” Harry lectures, “that he begins to ignore nature. Victor says– ‘The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, in one pursuit. It was the most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow a more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage: but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature.’ So what role does nature – or should I say – the lack of nature, play for Victor?”

Four hands shoot up into the air (relieving considering how last week he could barely get anyone to say anything). “Katie, right?” He smiles when she nods, and gives an exaggerated, celebratory fist pump that makes all of his students chuckle. “Told you I’d start getting your names down! Go ahead, Katie.”

Although he’s laughing and smiling – practically beaming since he and his students are getting along and actually discussing (instead of just him lecturing them) – he can’t help but feel a little pinch of sadness in the back of his mind. As his eyes scan over the seats, he can’t manage to find y/n in the class. He’d searched for her three times already – wondering if he accidentally missed her, or if she was hidden behind one of the tall boys near the front – but he couldn’t find his star student. He missed catching her eye, giving her sly winks and watching her duck her head down stifle a laugh. It kept him entertained whenever he had to sit through Dr. Richmond’s lectures, and he liked hearing her talk. Not only does she add amazing thoughts to their class discussions, but she also is just… nice to listen to.

“Good… I love how you said that Katie,” Harry carries on, “He embodies the corruption of nature in the quest for glory. And we already know how highly the Romantics regard the beauty of nature – their artwork is meant to connect us with the world, isn’t it?”

He wonders if she’s okay. She isn’t hurt or anything, is she? Did something happen to her on her walk to class?

“He’s disrupting the natural cycle of life, basically destroying nature, by trying to play God and create life himself–”

Y/n, as quietly as she can, sneaks into the classroom. She’s 15 minutes late, which isn’t late enough to just completely ditch the lecture, but still late enough to raise a few eyebrows. Of course, being the clumsy duck she is, she accidentally knocks the trash can over with a loud bang. She winces at how loud the sound is, and feels her cheeks turn hot when all eyes turn to look at her.

Harry turns as well, and can’t help but smile to himself – there she is.

He continues with his lecture, as if nothing happened, but watches as she hurries over to her set spot in the third row. She messily pushes her hair out of her face as she sits down, pulling the pull-out desk in front of her and grabbing her laptop from her bag. She types in her password quickly, and pushes the sleeves of her white cardigan up her arms so that they aren’t in the way. Her eyes briefly flicker upwards to the projector to see what she missed – but instead she accidentally catches Harry’s gaze, who’s already looking at her.

All of a sudden, Harry loses his train of thought. His eyes flicker between hers, and she stares back at him. They’re stuck like that for a moment – just the briefest moment – before he realizes that words are no longer coming out of his mouth and that the rest of the class is staring at him expectantly.

His cheeks tint pink. “Um… sorry, what was I saying?” He chuckles at himself embarrassedly, shaking his head at himself – it’s not often that he stutters over his words. But, luckily, it was brief enough to just pass as a slight fumble. Nothing too suspicious.

Harry tears his eyes away from y/n and resumes with his lecture. But somehow, as delusional as she might be, y/n can tell that that moment was something more than just a slight stumble.

+++

“I got this for you,” y/n says, standing in front of Harry’s desk, placing the iced drink down next to his pile of papers.

Harry furrows his eyebrows and sits up straighter. “What?”

“It’s a pumpkin iced chai… the same one I usually get. I thought, since last time you said you didn’t wanna waste five bucks trying a new drink–”

“Are you mental?” he interrupts.

She blinks. “Huh?”

“Why would you go on and waste five of your dollars instead?” he huffs. “Christ, y/n, don’t be silly, m’not letting you buy me a coffee. How much was it, let me pay you back–” he’s reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, but y/n is quick to refuse.

“No, don’t worry I didn’t pay for it! Starbucks has this thing– it’s like, if you buy one fall drink you can get a second one for free, but it’s only on Thursdays after 12. And I was gonna get one for myself anyway, so I was like– might as well just get the second one for free so that you can try it and not waste five dollars.”

He pauses, his wallet half open and a five dollar bill pinched between her fingers. He squints at her, “Are you lying?”

She gives an exasperated huff, “Why would I lie?!”

“I dunno, maybe you’re trying to butter me up with drinks and stuff so that I’ll grade your essays easier – which won’t work by the way! M’not easy to bribe!”

She rolls her eyes and plops into the seat across from him. “Please. If I was gonna try and butter you up, it would’ve started five weeks ago, when classes actually started. And I probably wouldn’t be in your office hours every week groveling over these stupid essays.” She lets her bag fall to the floor and blows the hair out of her face. “Y’know, Dr. Richmond does not explain the politics of 18th Century Europe well enough to expect me to write an entire essay on ‘the effects of globalization on romantic era literature.’ I signed up for a literature class, not European history. When are we gonna start writing essays on Frankenstein and feminism?”

Harry goes to respond, but right at that moment he takes a tentative sip of the drink that y/n had forced onto his desk. He cannot hide the grimace that graces his face.

Her eyes round out and her eyebrows pinch. “You don’t like it?” she says with a pout.

His lips smack together a few times, trying to get used to the taste of pumpkin in his mouth – but he actually really cannot stand it. “God,” he says, his nose wrinkles and his tongue aching for some water to wash away the pumpkin-y after taste. “What a waste of five dollars.”

“Oh my gosh– I did not spend five dollars on a drink for you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he pushes the drink to the edge of his desk, the sight of it making his tummy turn a little bit (he really did not like that pumpkin flavor mixed with milk). He then states the obvious, “You were late today.”

“Yeah. I overslept.”

He tsks, “What happened to the punctual Miss y/n who showed up twenty minutes early on the first day of classes?”

She sighs, “Dunno. Was up kinda late last night. And then I guess I snoozed through my alarm.”

It’s only then that he notices the dark circles under her eyes, and how her face is missing that usual radiant glow. He’s so caught up in her smile and her eyes, that he nearly missed the exhaustion leaking off her body. “How late?” he inquires.

“Um… like 3 in the morning.” Harry gapes at her, and she shrugs.

“Tha’s not healthy,” he scolds like a father. “Why’re you staying up so late, hm? Should be in bed for at least 6-8 hours, don’t you know that?”

“I know,” she rubs at her eyes tiredly. “I just have a psych midterm next week that m’really freaked out about. I like– fell behind on the lectures, so m’trying to learn like the past three weeks of material in a few days.”

Harry feels his heart ache, sympathizing for this poor, tired, hard-working girl. He knows the struggles of undergrad – he was pulling all nighters too, back in his day, and he never dared to go above 16 units. He wonders how she’s surviving, taking 20 units while still being at the top of her classes – well, she’s at the top of this class, he knows for certain. His star student.

Her eyes are still hidden behind her hands, knuckling at her eyelids, but she pulls them away slowly when she feels Harry’s hand at her knee. She looks at him, and he’s suddenly aware of how red and glossy her eyes are. “Just don’t overdo the studying, okay?” he says with soft eyes and a gentle voice. His thumb rubs overtop her knee softly, saying a hundred words that he can’t say out loud just quite yet.

She nods, and swallows thickly. “Okay.”

He smiles. “So you want a crash course in European History? I can do that for you. Dunno why more people don’t show up to my office hours, m’literally about to tell you exactly what to write…”

+++

Y/n is exhausted.

Actually, exhausted doesn’t cut it. She is at her breaking point.

With midterms week upon her, she’s been drowning herself in her school work, trying to keep up with her lectures and recap everything that she’s learned up until this point. Kind of difficult, when she’s fallen so dreadfully behind and barely knows what’s going on in her stats class. And – to make things worse, not only does she have both her stats and psych midterm this Friday, but she also needs to finish this stupid Globalization essay by tomorrow’s deadline.

Seven pages about The Effects of Globalization on British Romantic Literature. She currently has three pages written.

She’s screwed.

It’s not like she was trying to get behind! She tried so hard to stay on top of her studies. She promised herself that she’d finish the globalization essay last night – went to starbucks with her noise canceling headphones, got herself an iced pumpkin chai as a motivational treat, and sat down to turn all her notes into a beautiful, magical essay on Romanticism that would make Dr. Richmond weep.

But… the words just weren’t wording! Her brain refused to cooperate with her, despite the fact that she stayed at the Starbucks literally up until they kicked her out. She read her sources, went over her excerpts, wrote and rewrote her thesis over and over again… and only got three out of the seven pages done. She doesn’t know whether to blame Dr. Richmond for assigning such a stupid essay, or just her own sleep-deprived brain.

She’d gotten maybe five hours of sleep last night. And the night before that, too. Harry’s words ring loudly in her head, scolding her to get at least six hours of sleep every night… but she just has so much work to do! She has to do her psych readings, her stats homework, the midterm practice her stats professor posted, and this essay… It's a lot. Plus having to actually attend all of her classes and go to work (she works at the campus bookstore) on top of all her homework and studying? She barely has time to eat!!!

Her tummy grumbles miserably, a painful reminder of the fact that she had forgotten to pack herself a lunch this morning in her haste to get to class on time. The pain is nowhere as bad as her headache, though. It’s the kind of migraine you get when you barely got any sleep. Her head feels heavy, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and her eyes sting every time she blinks. It’s horrible. She can barely focus on anything. Not her stats homework, not the essay open in front of her.

Not even Harry, who’s sitting to her left, helping her with her essay. In fact, she’s completely missed what he’s spent the past minute explaining to her.

She blinks at him slowly. “Sorry… can you say that again?”

Harry’s pretty face pinches, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes glimmering with concern. She’s so clearly off today… he can’t ignore her red-rimmed eyes and zoning out any longer. “…are you okay?” he asks timidly.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says quickly, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine.” But it’s like as soon as she says those two words, the dam holding her together collapses, and a river of emotion comes barreling through her. She looks down at the open document on her laptop, stares at the cursor blinking at her. The blank page taunting her. Tears well up in her eyes, and her heart starts to swell sadly. She’s not fine at all.

She quickly hides her face from Harry, looking down at her lap. She is NOT allowed to cry in front of him, she reprimands herself. She’s kept herself together all day, why is she starting to get emotional now, in the middle of his office hours? Couldn’t it have waited until she was alone in her shower?

She swallows around the lump in her throat, and presses her palms to her stinging eyes. As if that’ll keep her tears at bay. “Sorry,” she mumbles, trying to conceal her shaky voice, “let me just think for a second.”

“Hey…” Harry sees right through it. “Hey, come on. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, mostly trying to convince herself. She sniffles as quietly as she can and tries to rub the tears away. “Sorry, nothing. I’m fine.”

She reaches for her laptop, but Harry grabs her hand. “No.” He can’t ignore the glossy sheen of her eyes, or the quiet sniffles. He just can’t. “We need to take a break.”

“It’s really fine–” she tries to say, but she can barely get it out with how her throat is swelling. She stares down at the floor. Harry holds her hand.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.” His hands are big and warm, encasing her’s, wholly. A cross tattoo sits between the slit of his thumb and second finger, twitching as his thumb grazes her knuckles.

“M’just tired,” she says dejectedly. “I was up super late last night and I just… didn’t even get anything done. And now I have to finish this, and I haven’t finished my stats homework, and I have two midterms on Friday.” Her heart starts to race as she realizes much she has to do, and how little time she has. She’s stretched herself thin. “There’s just so much I have to get done,” her voice cracks, “and I’m so tired.” A big fat tear rolls down her face, and drops onto her shirt – shamefully staining the thin material.

Harry gets out of his chair and kneels down in front of her, resting their joint hands in her lap as he stares up at her. More tears fill her eyes without her consent, and her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she sniffles. She refuses to meet his gaze, despite how earnestly he’s looking into her sad eyes. Another drop falls from her lashes.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs sadly.

“I thought I could handle it all,” she bleats. “But I’m so unprepared for my midterms, and I need to finish this essay, and I promised you that I’d stay on top of my work, but I’m falling behind–”

“Don’t worry about the essay,” he interrupts. “I’ll get you an extension on your paper.”

She shakes her head. “Dr. Richmond doesn’t do extensions, though,” she blubbers.

“I’ll talk to him,” he says firmly. “M’the one grading it anyway.”

“But Harry–” she whines, shamelessly childlike, “I promised you that this wouldn’t happen. I told you I could handle it.”

“And you can handle it. I know you can.” His green eyes are wide and round as he looks up at her, earnest and pleading. “You come to office hours, and you study hard, and you’d stay up all night to finish this essay – but I don’t want you to. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I know you can do it.”

She pouts, still not looking up at him. She stares instead at their joint hands in her lap blankly.

“You’re doing so good,” he coos, “You’re coming to office hours even when you have so much going on, and you’re taking so many units. I know you’re giving it your all. S’okay.”

He reaches a hand out to rest on her shoulder, and suddenly she feels the weight of the world fall off of her chest. A long, shaky breath leaves her, and she blinks her eyes shut, letting more tears cascade down her cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart,” Harry’s heart breaks. He leans up to wrap his arms around her shoulders, a soft hug, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder, letting the tears silently fall. His hands rub big, soothing circles on her back, and he shushes her softly, “It’s alright.”

His blue dress shirt feels cool against her face, crisp and fresh, and he smells like vanilla and smoked wood. She doesn’t want to abandon his firm chest, his warm embrace, but he pulls back and looks into her eyes. For the first time, she meets his gaze. “No more crying, okay?”

She sniffles, and wipes the wetness off her cheeks. “M’kay.”

A soft smile smooths out the worried lines on his face. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he says, his hands slapping his thighs as he stands back up. “You’re going to take a nap–” he closes his office door and locks it with a click.

“A nap?” her watery voice exclaims. “But– I need to study!”

He gives her a firm look. “You’re not gonna get any studying done if your brain isn’t well rested.” From one of the bottom drawers of his desk, he pulls out a blanket (he sometimes will take a nap in his office if he needs a break from grading). “Take a nap. I’ll wake you in an hour and then y’can study in here.”

+++

You know that peaceful feeling that surrounds a room when a baby is taking a nap? How everyone tiptoes around the crib, their voices barely surpassing a whisper in fear of waking the sleeping baby. How parents will stand around, just watching the baby nap, smiling to themselves when their baby twitches in its sleep. How the world just seems more… peaceful?

That’s how Harry feels right now.

Y/n is on his couch, his cozy gray blanket pulled up to her chin. Her cheeks are puffed, her tired eyes shut with her eyelashes resting delicately on the tops of her cheeks. She looks angelic, the most relaxed he’s ever seen her be, with no midterms stressing her out. No papers due, no furrowed eyebrows, no crying. Like a sleeping baby, cherubic and sweet. He’s been tiptoeing around her for the past hour, grading papers as quietly as he can. He tried to be productive and just mind his business while she napped, but everytime he shuffled through one of the essays, he felt the urge to check on her, to make sure that he didn’t accidentally wake her up. And then he just wanted to… watch her. Not in a creepy way though!!! Not in a creepy way. In a kind of… sweet way. :( She was beautiful, especially when she slept.

His heart doesn’t want to wake her up – not when she looks so peaceful for the first time weeks. All the times he’s seen her since that very first week was her stressing and stressing and stressing – stressing about getting a permission code from Dr. Richmond, stressing about her exams, stressing about the rain. He’s never gotten to see her take a breath and be calm. She’s a hard worker, he can tell – which is a great trait that he admires in his students. But, with y/n… he just wants to make sure she’s okay, too.

He kneels down in front of the couch, and regretfully murmurs out, “y/n?” She doesn’t respond at all– she’s dead to the world. All the exhaustion that she’d accumulated this past week, all the hours of sleep she missed, are catching up with her now. He tries again, “Y/n… time to wake up.”

Her eyebrows furrow and her nose wrinkles, but she still refuses to open her eyes. The pull of sleepiness is too strong. It makes him chuckle. “Come on, bunny,” he says, in reference to her twitchy nose and pouty lips. “V’got a snack for you.”

Her sleepy eyes blink open, and immediately he can tell that she needed that nap. Her eyes are brighter, less red, and she stares up at him sweetly. “A snack?”

Of course that would get her to wake up. His dimple pokes his cheek. “S’not much. Just a granola bar. But it’ll help you while you study.”

She sits up, the blanket pooling around her waist, and rubs at her eye with her knuckle.

“Feeling better?” He asks, a hand on her knee.

She nods. She’d taken an Advil for her headache before she’d gone to sleep. That, with her nap, has made the prospect of studying a little bit more bearable.

When she looks around the room, she sees that Harry’s cleared up a portion of his desk for her to study at. Gone are his stacks of books, a bare square of wood right across from the stack of essays he’s currently grading. The usual foldable chair that he has students sit in during his office hours has been moved to the corner, and has been replaced with one of the more comfy, rolly chairs. He’s gone out of his way to make a sweet little study space for her while she napped in his office.

“Now… we’re gonna have to leave by 9,” Harry says, standing up and going round to his side of his desk. “Cos v’got to feed my cat. But that gives us at least… two hours of study time. N’then I can take you home. How does that sound?”

She blinks. “Harry… thank you.” She doesn’t know why he’s being so nice to her, or what she’s done to deserve such kind treatment. But it means the world.

He shrugs nonchalantly, but she doesn’t miss the dimple that pinches his cheek as he smiles to himself.

+++

They stay in his office until nightfall.

Harry’s nicely styled curls turn messy, his fingers tangling through his hair he graded the freshman papers (is he a harsh grader, or does this new generation truly not know how to write?). His eyebrows furrow behind his tortoise shell glasses, green eyes hard and serious. Y/n watches the way his lips purse, how he taps his red pen against his chin while he reads.

Her own brain is done with studying. After her nap, she started playing her classical music and sat down to finish her stats homework AND the practice midterm. Without the globalization essay to worry about, she managed to calm down and focus, get some of her work done, and catch up on the things she was so behind on. Does she feel any better about the exam? No. But at least she can say that she studied!

Harry manages to make a nice dent in the stack of ungraded papers as well, working well in the comfortable silence filtering between the two of them. There was no need for them to talk, and they didn’t distract each other either. Simply getting their work done next to each other, and enjoying each other’s presence (though neither one of them would outright admit how nice it is to just sit in silence with the other).

They pack up and head out together when it gets closer to nine. Harry holds the office door open for her and locks his door behind them, and they walk closely together towards the parking lot. It’s dark, the ground only lit by the few streetlights looming above them, and a shiver racks through y/n’s body from the cool autumnal air. She hadn’t planned on being on campus so late – she thought that she’d probably go straight home after office hours and pull an all-nighter to finish her essay – so therefore, she doesn’t have much of a jacket except for a lame cardigan over her shirt.

Harry, who usually is on campus until nightfall anyway, wishes he could do something for her when he notices the way she’s hugging herself, her cardigan pulled over her fingers. He wants to pull her to his side, wrap an arm around her and share his body warmth with her – but that would be entirely too unprofessional, he thinks. Instead he picks up his pace, forcing y/n to scurry in order to keep up with his long strides, and immediately turns on the heat for her.

He doesn’t need to ask for directions this time, knowing exactly where to turn and how to get to her apartment, and when he pulls up in front of her door, he turns to her quietly. “Listen. Don’t stress about the paper. Focus on studying for your exams, and then you can have the entire weekend to finish the paper, okay?”

“I feel… bad. Like, Dr. Richmond said no extensions, and you’re making these exceptions for me–”

“Don’t overthink it,” Harry interrupts. “Dr. Richmond just says that so people don’t just ask for extensions because they procrastinated. He will grant extensions when there’s a valid reason.”

“But, really it’s not a valid reason… everyone else has midterms.”

“But none of those other students have shown me how much they care about this class. I know you’re a hard worker, I know you aren’t just procrastinating.” He shrugs, “M’the one who makes the calls. And I think you deserve an extension.”

She sits there quietly, then says, “I-I just don’t want you to think I only came to your office hours to cry and make you give me an extension. I… come to your office hours for help. You’re like… helpful.” She says that last part awkwardly, and it makes him chuckle quietly.

“You can say I’m your favorite TA. I won’t tell.” His dimple pokes his cheek as he smirks at her teasingly, and she can’t help but giggle too. Her eyes twinkle as she looks at him with a small shake of her head. That wasn’t what she was getting at… but it is true.

They stare at each other for a moment too long. One of Harry’s hands rests on the wheel, while the other one comes up to play with his lip. Y/n’s hands sit politely in her lap, her bag sitting at her feet on the passenger’s seat floor. They’re both quiet, not knowing what to say. Yeah, they’re laughing and teasing each other, but something heavier lingers in the air around them. This tension… this magnetic energy. Neither y/n nor Harry know what’s causing it, or why the silence is suddenly so overwhelming. The smile on y/n’s face lingers in her eyes, which glimmer as she stares at Harry. And Harry, who had been smirking mischievously, now looks at y/n with a bit of a more serious air. He stares at her thoughtfully, his bottom lip pinched between his lips. His eyes wander down to her lips, pretty and heart shaped. She’s chewing the inside of her lip softly, and he wants to brush his thumb over her mouth and tell her to stop.

He catches himself, and quickly tears his eyes away before she notices. He clears his throat.

“Take care of y’self,” he says with a soft smile. “I want to see you well rested in class next week, okay?”

+++

HOPE U GUYS LOVED IT!!!!!! part 3 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (oct 21) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! more tarry to come!

Prose (part 3) is already posted on patreon! : In which y/n is Harry's favorite student, and she sort of somehow accidentally kisses him.

Prose Masterlist

#harry #harry fic #harry styles fanfic #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #professor!harry #TA!harry #professorry

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shewrites02 · 3 months

Text

Green With Envy |Zoro X Reader|

Jealous Zoro x reader

Zoro x Crewmate!Reader

A/N: This is for @dinuxia-bhm, Who requested Zoro Jealous of the shitty cook. This is my very first One Piece fic request so I hope I did it justice.

Request : Open

Word Count : 5.3k

Leave a comment if you enjoy ! :)

"If you stare any longer , you may actually burn the image of them into your brain." Nami teased. She bumped the swordsman with her elbow , only then drawing his attention to her presence. "

Do you plan on making a move or were you hoping to intimidate her into a relationship?"

Nami takes a seat at the table next to the pirate who also awaits the start of breakfast. His eyes glance over at her , contemplating if he has any harsh words for the navigator... He has half a mind to tell her to mind her own business. Relationship? He scoffs at the notion. The swordsman knew nothing of feelings or love. The taboo, he quickly determined, too ridiculous to even discuss. Zoro only huffs in disagreement then goes back to watching the displays of affection amongst you and the cook.

You were teaching Sanji how to make an authentic breakfast from your village. The cook had begged you for weeks to share your favorite recipe with him. Even offering to spend his own berries gathering all the ingredients.

"Sanji, why do you keep asking me about this?" You inquired on the third week.

" I know you've only been sailing with us for a couple months, but I'm sure you noticed how hard it is to be away from home. " He took the cigarette out his lips then ashed it on the railing before giving you a sincere smile. "I just want to be able to make you something if you get homesick."

It was difficult to decline such a heartfelt request.

"Here. Try it now."

You blew on the spoon hoping to cool it down. When most of the steam subsided , you extended your arm bringing the spoon to Sanji's lips. You steadied his chin with your free hand being sure not to spill the hot liquid on his face. He hummed in pleasure at the taste.

"I think you have outdone even me on this one, my love." Sanji grinned proudly.

"As if I could ever!"

You pushed your hand into Sanji's chest jokingly shoving him away from you. The cook grabs your wrist before you can pull away, drawing you in to plant a tender kiss on your cheek.

"Darling, you truly did an amazing job. Thank you for showing me."

The sight made Zoro's stomach turn. He watched how Sanji's hands fell to your waist when he moved around you to navigate the kitchen. Notice how you didn't shy away from his touch. How you actually offered a sweet smile to him in return . The marimo's body strained at every passing touch you and Sanji exchanged. His taut muscles are too tense to contract any further at the sight of Sanji's lips against your skin. "Why does he get to touch you?" The thought comes as a surprise to him.

"Here Zo , you wanna try ?" You asked.

You turn to him with a new spoonful of jam, blowing on it just as you had done for Sanji . You had taken notice of the swordsman's observations of you . Watch the way his eyes had followed your hands to Sanji's chin when you fed him . Zoro had sat at the table all morning supervising your lesson with the cook. You figured you could offer him that attention too.

"Marimo is too dense to appreciate such elegant flavors. " Sanji responds before Zoro has an opportunity to.

"Fuck you! It's only your shit cooking I don't appreciate!"

While the boys bicker you walk over to the table spoon in hand. Sanji had hurled another insult at the ex bounty hunter , but the delicate feeling of your fingers wrapping around his chin stopped any words Zoro may have had in return. There was a small pause where his eyes lingered on yours . Searching for something . Malice? Contempt? You didn't know. But When he found what he was looking for , or lack thereof , his lips parted.

"Is it good? Do you like it?" You asked using your thumb to wipe away the excess from the side of his mouth.

"Yeah..." His gaze shifts away from you. "Way better than the cooks."

You giggled at his words, allowing yourself to wallow in the heat that filled your chest at his praise. Amused at the small smirk that laid on his lips once he had gotten what he wanted. Your attention. You bend to bring your mouth to his ear.

"Silly swordsman, I have enough attention for the both of you." You whispered .

"I- that's not-"

The words trip and stumble out his mouth never once finding their feet. You could see the sweat begging to bead on Zoro's brow as his eyes shifted about in panic, looking for anything coherent to mumble back. The stoic pirate reduced to a fumbling teenager at your words. When he can come up with nothing, he decides to stop speaking. Annoyed, he crosses his arms against his chest and turns his head to face the navigator. He is met with the knowing grin on her face.

Your eyes scanned the room while your fingers aimlessly tapped against the sake bottle. You sat at the bar top alone , waiting for the rest of your crew-mates to join you . You should have known better than to think any of them would be on time. Sticking to the plan was not something the Strawhats were particularly versed in. Especially when they were all left to their own devices on a new island. You sigh, dragging your free hand down your face , attempting not to ruin your makeup in the process. It was beginning to get difficult to wait. The eyes of the pirate's in the bar watched you hungrily, and you feared one may try to satiate their appetite. Eyes still roaming the room, you hoped to see a familiar face.

"A pretty lady like yourself shouldn't be sitting all alone in a packed bar. " A man announces.

It's their captain. His arm is extended, hand out offering you a beer as he approaches. You smile, kindly declining. You hold up your own bottle, shaking it slightly to indicate its fullness as means of justification . The man nodded in understanding, but didn't leave. In fact he took the prolonged silence as an invitation to take a seat alongside you.

"Are you waiting on somebody?"

He casually rests his hand on your thigh as though he has already claimed you . You shift in your seat, turning so your legs would fall beneath the bar top. You're hoping the man would sense your discomfort at his proximity. His hand does not move. Instead his smile grows wider. Taking your movement as the green light to slowly drag his hand up toward your waist.

"My boyfriend is meeting me."

The lie slips past your lips with ease at the sudden rush of adrenaline. You go to swat the man's hands from you . The previous statement should be enough for him to understand you are not his to claim . The smile he wears drops. His hand doesn't move. Despite your physical protest. Your breath hitches in your throat at the growing realization of the situation you're in.

"He shouldn't have left you here all alone." The man's voice isn't above a whisper

His warning is gone just as quickly as it came , but your fear still lingers in the air. Your eyes bounce wryly from the door to the pirate who continued to creep into your space. "They're coming!" Your mind loops the words as if they were an incantation.

Then, as if to answer your fervent prayers, the bar door is shoved open. Luffy is the first of your crew to enter, his first mate trails behind him. You can see Zoro searching for you in the crowd, as the rest of the Strawhats messily file in after him. It doesn't take long for his eyes to find yours.

You don't have to say a word . The swordsman can sense your discomfort from where he stood. He saw the fear that engulfed the glimmer that resides in your eyes. He watched how you kept your arms held close to your body, afraid the man would reach for you. Notice how rigidly you cross your legs over one another . Then he sees the man's hand rubbing up and down your thigh. The swordsman starts making his way over to you, hand on the hilt of Shusui.

Zoro drew his sword placing the blade at the base of the man's wrist. The music in the bar stopped. The patrons are silent. Everybody's eyes fall on the three of you. Most filled with fear, your friends with confusion. But all watch the same as the conflict unfolds.

"Move your hand, before I slice it off."

There is a brief pause before the man laughs. A genuine belly hugging laugh at Zoro's imminent threat. Moments later the other men join in, egging their captain on.

"Is this the boyfriend you were talking about?"' The man asks, ignoring the ex bounty hunter. His eyes don't leave your body. Neither does his hand. "You almost got your lady in a lot of trouble , leaving her all alone in a bar like this."

Zoro's scowl deepens at the pirate's words. "Boyfriend? You had told the man he was your boyfriend?" The pieces slowly fall into place as the swordsman assesses the scene surrounding you. Alone, you sat in a bar full of pirates. The only other women present are staff of the small business. Zoro's eyes glance over at yours. His grip tightens around the hilt at the sight of your fearful expression. You had told the pirate he was boyfriend. Zoro finally understands.

"What kind of man would treat his girlfriend that way?"

"What kind of man uses his power to strong arm women? " The swordsman responds.

The question coals in the raging fire that was already roaring in the ex bounty hunter. The pirate had thought you were his, yet touched you anyway. Decided you were his to claim. To conquer. Then Justified his actions using the lack of Zoro's presence as an excuse. As if his absence was reason enough to encroach your space, and have you trembling in fear. Now the pirate captain had the audacity to question the type of man he was. It enrages Zoro.

"I'm not going to repeat myself."

"Strong arm?" The captain stifles another laugh. His eyes finally look over to meet the swordsman. "We would've handled princess here real gentle."

The pirate clenches his fingers around you then goes to inch his hand further up your thigh. Zoro has seen enough. There is a sharp yelp preceding the sound of him sheathing his weapon. Your harasser's hand falls to the floor beneath your feet. Blood spews from his severed arm. You want to scream, but a sharp gasp falls from your lips instead. Almost instinctively Zoro's hand reaches out to grasp yours at the reaction.

You had seen Zoro cut down many men before, but being inches away from his blade as he does so was an entirely different experience. As you felt the warmth of the pirate's blood seeping into your dress, and wiped at the splatters of blood that littered your skin, you couldn't help but be a bit awestruck at his strength.

The captain's crew members rush to his aid as his screams continue. Zoro lets you squeeze his hand while you cautiously hop down from the bar stool, trying your best not to slip on the blood that covered the floor. He nudges you along to follow him. The only precursor you receive before the two of you walk into the single stalled bathroom at the back of the bar.

The small room didn't allot the two of you much personal space. If anything it forced you two into dangerously close proximity. As you stood in front of the sink , back to the mirror, you could feel Zoro's knees lightly brush yours when he reached to grab the paper towel off the roll. He bundles it up then brings it to your cheek. You take note of the small hesitation he makes before his hand lands on your chin . He licks the wad before swiping away at your cheek. A poor attempt to rid you of the scumbag's blood.

"I'm sorry." The words feel unfamiliar as they fall from the swordsman's mouth.

Your eyebrows raise to your temples. In all the months you had been sailing with the Strawhats , you have never heard Zoro apologize. You wonder what made this occasion so different. the slight widening of your eyes gives way to your surprise. Zoro notices and continues.

"I should have been on time."

"Don't be sorry Zoro. You saved me, thank you."

You bring your hand up to rest over his before smiling up at him. The look in your eyes, the one he had seen you give to Sanji so many times, was finally from his doing. His heart raced at your expression. He felt himself begin to sweat as the warmth of your stare spread across his skin. Zoro couldn't understand the physical response from his body. Part of him wanted to run. To flee the threat that seemed to be your piercing gaze. But a bigger part of him wanted to bask in its glow, doing anything imaginable to keep the sun out just a little while longer.

"Although " You giggle at the silly hunch. "I would have thought it would be Sanji to save me."

Your words bring raging storm clouds that wash Zoro's warmth away. He rolls his eyes. As though the notion was too implausible to even be considered. He brings the paper towel back to your cheek then speaks.

"The dumbass cook can barely save himself !"

"Is the moss head jealous?" You tease. " I'm happy it was you."

A loud bang on the flimsy wooden door interrupts the swordsman before he can respond. Seconds later it flings open, shaking on its creaky hinges. The sniper stands on the other side wide eyed.

"It's time to go!"

When you reunite with your crew there really is no need to explain the urgency of the situation. The pirate captain laid unconscious on the ground with a makeshift tourniquet wrapped around his arm. Apparently the crew had not taken kindly to Zoro's treatment of their captain, and seemed to have every intention of taking it out on the rest of the crew.

"C'mon guys there is surely no reason to make this much fuss over one hand." Brooke had tried to reason, his efforts in vain. The pirate crew wanted a fight.

"You pieces of shit!" Sanji swept his leg, thrashing a considerable number of men through the bar's singular window. "How dare he have the audacity to treat my darling , sweet love with such disrespect. And now you stand here trying to avenge your captain's actions... I won't allow it to go unpunished."

Sanji had enough fury in his heart to take on the entirety of the scumbag's lackeys. A fight was the only way to alleviate the emotions that were sure to get the better of him. In under three moves the cook had the no named pirate crew looking just as bad as their captain. The situation was settled.

"So the swordsman saves the day." Sanji says dejectedly as he brings the glass to his lips to take a drink. "At least you're okay."

You can't help the giddy smile that appears on your face at his mention. A bitter side effect of the alcohol. The navigator had suggested none of you go home empty handed after the chaos that ensued at the bar. Insinuated you had deserved a treat after all your troubles. There were no objections. At first you can only giggle at the cook's words. Butterfly's bloom in your chest when you think about the swordsman's delicate touch against your skin just moments after cutting a man down... for you. A slight chills crawls down your spine. You take a significant swig from the whiskey bottle in your hand hoping the burn of the alcohol sliding down your throat may warm you up.

"He's an interesting man , Uh?" You pause to glance towards the deck. "Zoro."

"That's one word."

Sanji's curly brows raise at your question. He turns to look at you, but you don't meet his gaze. You're looking out at the party . The cook watches your eyes while they search and scatter. He is trying to assess their intent, and then it dawns on him. You were looking for him. The Swordsman.

"You wouldn't happen to have a crush on mosshead would you?"

Your eyes dart back to Sanji , then away to look at the sea. Crush wasn't nearly a strong enough word to describe how you felt about Roronoa Zoro. Sometimes you would switch night watches with Nami just for the opportunity to watch the swordsman train in the crows nest. Although most of the time had been spent in silence , there was still something special about being in his presence. But Zoro's stoicism made it difficult to discern his feelings. You had thought him so unconcerned with your presence for so long that you had resorted to blatant teases and flirting with him in the first place. If only to fluster him. You craved acknowledgment from Zoro, in the way your lungs craved oxygen. desperately.

"I have been obsessed with the swordsman since the day Luffy dragged me onto the sunny... "

"Obsessed uh?"

Sanji lets out a genuine laugh at the words. Amused by the way the alcohol loosens your tongue. He had always taken notice of your affinity toward Zoro. Witnessed how differently you spoke to him than the others. Your crewmates had easily labeled you a flirt, but the way you riled Zoro had been different than the jokingly stated endearments you passed the rest of them.

Sanji glances around you to spot the swordsman on the deck. As he suspects the green haired pirate is surveilling them. When their eyes meet Zoro turns his head to stare at the antics of their captain, feigning interest. "If the dumbass mosshead had even the slightest ounce of emotional intelligence the two of you would be happy now." Sanji is surprised when the thought bumps into his head.

"Well, darling" Sanji wraps his arm around your shoulder to draw you into him. You rest your head on his chest, then he continues to speak. "I have half a mind to say marimo likes you too."

The swordsman lays against the mast , feet crossed in front of him downing his third bottle of the night. He doesn't understand his anger at your actions; This scalding feeling that envelops him at the way you rest your head on Sanji's chest encourages him to drink more. He tries to dismiss his thoughts, convince himself that he doesn't care, but they bombard him like a buster call.

"Why did the cook get to hold you?" "He was the one who saved you. Why are you batting your eyelashes at Sanji and not him ?" "What else does he have to do to keep your attention?" "What about the shit cook was so much better than him?"

Zoro sees you part from the cook, and watches as you trek back to the party. He assumes you'll rejoin Nami and Robin, considering the tipsy women are calling your name so fervently. His brows raise when you pass them giving a placating wave. You're making your way over to him.

"Don't tell me you're already done drinking Zoro. I hadn't known you to be such a lightweight." You jest, pointing over to the 3 empty bottles that sat alongside him.

Zoro smirks before reaching for the half empty bottle that was clutched in your fingers. He wraps his large hand around yours then guides you to bring the bottle to his lips so he can take a drink. When he is done he wipes the excess from his lips using the back of his hand.

"You done smiling at the cook?"

He releases his hold on you then turns his head so your eyes won't meet his. He's staring at the sea as if it will answer his question. You mock a gasp bringing your free hand to your chest. Then you giggle.

"Roronoa! You're so jealous."

"No I'm not!"

You bring your hand to Zoro's cheek guiding his eyes back to yours. You offer him a sly smirk before you bend at the waist to meet his face. You're so close Zoro can feel your breath on his cheeks.

"Yes you are mossy. So spoiled, wanting my attention all to yourself. It's okay, I'm here now."

Zoro jerks his chin away from your grasp. His face scrunches into a frown. It's difficult for him to discern if it's anger, or embarrassment that's swelling inside him. The words fall from his lips before he has a chance to assess them.

"I'm not jealous!... I don't even know what the shitty cook sees in you."

Zoro wishes he could snatch the words back before they hit your ears. Hates how you wince at what he says. The way your smile dropped while you ruminated on his words. There is no more sunshine in your tear pooled eyes, only storm clouds. He knows it before the first tear has fallen. He's gone too far. You storm away from him.

"You made her cry." Sanji states as he pulls the cigarette for his lips. He puffs the smoke out then turns to Mosshead for an answer.

Zoro is in the crow's nest hiding from the peering eyes of his crewmates. Surely the cook hadn't been the only one to notice your early departure from the party only moments after the conversation you two had. The others were bound to have questions of their own soon. None of which Zoro cared to answer.

"I didn't mean to." Is all the swordsman can muster. The image of your broken hearted eyes are seared into his brain. Why did he say that? He wants to bang his head against the wall at the thought. Sanji rolls his eyes at the excuse. Not assuaged by the swordsman's words. Intent had no significance in Sanji's mind, all that mattered was that he was the source of your tears.

"What did you say to her?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Bullshit."

Zoro walked toward the dumbbells that laid on the floor . He decides lifting is a better option than repeating his misgivings. He had no intention of admitting to the cook that he himself had been the source of Zoro's rage.

"Why do you care?" Zoro snaps back . He's deflecting.

"Because I care about her. She's cried herself to sleep and it's your fault!"

"If you care so much you fix it!"

"I wish I could marimo, I would love nothing more than to take that darling lady away from you."

Zoro scrunched his face into yet another frown. From him ? Zoro had never believed you his to begin with . Had that been the case he would've cut the chef down ages ago for his fleeting touches and stares.

"Take her, I don't care."

At this the cook let out a loud laugh that threatened to escape the confines of the crow's nest. He genuinely couldn't believe the swordsman could be so oblivious of his own feelings. When Sanji catches his breath, he can't help his devilish smile.

"... So you wouldn't mind if I climb into her bed tonight? You know she asked me."

Zoro's jaw clenches. He lowers the dumb bells away from his chest then drops them to the floor. Now his eyes meet the cook. Sanji takes it as an invitation to continue.

"I think she wanted the comfort after y'all's ... run in."

More fuel is added to Zoro's already racing thoughts. This time, he could not convince himself he was unbothered. Couldn't find a deep place to push the discomfort. The cook always got the best parts of you. Parts the swordsman so desperately wanted to save for himself. Zoro was sick of it.

"Don't touch her."

A sharp chuckle falls from Sanji's lips at the irony. Zoro couldn't admit to how he feels about you, but is standing there contemplating cutting him down at the mere thought of letting him into your bed. How could marimo be so stupid?

"Yeah mosshead, You don't care about her at all." Sanji mocked.

"You don't know what you're talking about?" Zoro scoffs.

What does the shitty cook know of his feelings, when he himself could not sort them out.

Sanji can only shake his head in disappointment. He brings his fingers to the bridge of his nose to pinch it slightly before letting out a dismissive sigh. Oh how'd he wished to take your mind away from the swordsman. Wished it was he who was the object of your affections, but the cook knew you would never be obsessed with him in the same way you were marimo. As painful as that may be.

"Zoro, if you lose the girl you're in love with because you're too stupid to figure out your feelings..." He takes a drag from his cigarette "You're a bigger dumbass than I thought."

"Why do you give a shit if things work out?t" Zoro snarls. He wonders why Sanji has suddenly taken his feelings into so much consideration.

"Honestly mossy I don't. You don't deserve her. but she loves you and she deserves to be happy. You'll make her happy. That's all I really want... "

Sanji set the plate down on the vanity. He peers over at you wrapped in the thick comforter. You had allowed it to engulf you, face and all. You had not moved since he had come to see you last. That was at breakfast. Still you faced the wall with your back to him. There is a slight hesitation in his step before he walks further into the room.

"You sure everything is okay?" He inquires for the second time.

"I'm fine Sanji. Really." You attempt to sound reassuring.

The cook nods in understanding. He is not convinced , but will not ask for a third time . Instead he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. A sigh of relief leaves your lips. You didn't want to tell Sanji the truth. That you were too embarrassed to face the swordsman. That his rejection looped continuously through your mind, making it impossible to sleep. Had Zoro really meant what he said ? Were you just making a fool of yourself this whole time? The thought makes you shudder.

Sanji pushes his way through the door to enter the kitchen. He is met with the eyes of his crewmates who waited for him at the table in anticipation . He shakes his head. Nami and Robin release their sighs of disappointment .

"I wonder why she won't join us." Robin inquires.

"First breakfast, now lunch... She must really be feeling bad." Nami continues.

"I can go check on her... " Luffy chimes in "maybe she'll tell me what's wrong."

Luffy goes to grab a handful of the chopped fruit Sanji had placed on the table . Sanji swats his captain's hands away before sitting another plate down, this time sandwiches. Zoro has now entered the kitchen hearing the tale end of the Strawhat's woes. He feels the way the cooks eye borough into his skull, knowing that they're scowling at him. Zoro doesn't look his way. He knows that it is his fault you've gone missing . He doesn't need the cook to remind him.

"Marimo is going to check on her." Sanji announces.

The room falls quite as eyes are now on the swordsman. Nami cringes in disbelief, shaking her head vigorously.

"I don't think that's a good id-"

"Don't worry, he'll fix it." Sanji ends Nami's sentence before she has the chance to.

His crew eyes him with unsure stares. Zoro had never been one to offer much comfort, even in the most dark of times. They didn't see how he'd be the answer to their troubles. Sanji does not elaborate on his statement. He offers his crew a smile before setting the homemade chips on the table and announcing lunch is ready.

"Sanji , you don't have to keep coming in here every fifteen minutes to check on me. " You say to the sound of knocking at the bedroom door.

You pull the blankets back to face who you thought was the cook. Zoro stood there in his place. His back against the bedroom door like he was still contemplating if he should stay or not. You sit up at the feeling of your heart shooting to your throat.

"What are you doing here?"

"You haven't come out all day." He responds as if that answers your question. When you don't say anything back , he assumes he should continue. "They're worried about you."

Zoro's hand falls to the nape of his neck, he rubs sheepishly then looks down at the floor. You roll your eyes, dissatisfied with his answer. You pull the blankets up to cover your face then turn your back to him.

"Go away Zoro."

It hurts him to hear, although he knows he has no right to be upset. When he heard you didn't show up for breakfast, he'd felt worse than when the words initially fell from his mouth. Truth be told he had hid in the crow's nest as long as he could trying not to run into you this morning . Thought that he was giving you space to breathe without his watchful eye.

"I- I was jealous... of you and the cook."

Zoro pauses waiting for a reaction from you to see if he should keep talking or not. There's an unusual shake of fear in his voice you don't recognize. You sit up to face him once again.

"I was mad and I took it out on you. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

This has made two apologies from the ever prideful pirate.

"You hurt my feelings." Your voice is soft , fragile as you respond.

"I know..." The swordsman pushes himself from the door to take a step towards you. "If I could eat the words I would."

You gaze into his eyes for a moment, searching for an ounce of deception. You know you won't find it . If the swordsman had not meant his words, he would not have gone out of his way to say them. But still you look to reassure yourself.

"Zoro I don't understand makes you so angry about my relationship with Sanji?"

"I don't like it when he touches you." The swordsman confesses.

You smirk at his candor. All this over the playful touches the cook had thrown your way. It was almost too sweet to believe you had the swordsman so twisted at the sight of you sharing your affection. You swing your legs so they fall off the edge of the bed. You're staring at him intently. Zoro is nervous under your gaze . You can tell by the way he fiddles with his fingers aimlessly.

"You don't like when Sanji touches me ?" You repeat. You pause to offer the swordsman a chance to take back his words. But he does not renege.

"...I don't like when anyone touches you."

Your giggle is involuntary. The smirk on your lips is now a full blown smile. Despite the pain that had come from it, you couldn't help but love the thought of the swordsman jealous over you. Before you were just joking , but to hear the words from Zoro's mouth himself was truly blissful.

"Roronoa... Do you have a crush on me?"

"Crush on you?" He ponders like it's the first time he's thought about it. "I don't think that's a strong enough word."

"No?"

He shakes his head taking a step toward you . His hand meets your cheek. He is hesitant. Thinks you may pull away from his touch. But the swordsman is pleasantly surprised when you lean into his hand.

"Sanji says I'm in love with you."

Your heart skips at the word. Love. It sounded so sweet coming from Zoro lips. You wondered what you would have to do to hear him say it again.

"Yeah? And what do you think?"

"I think he might be right."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N : I stared at this so long, I might have it memorized at this point lol. I'm not sure if I'm happy with it , but it is a labor of love nonetheless.

{If you would like to be added to my tag list lemme know! I would Love to have you}

#zoro roronoa #one piece #ronoroa zoro #zoro x reader #zoro #one piece zoro #one piece strawhats #op zoro

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dilemmaontwolegs · 11 months

Note

Saw that requests are closed but I'm itching to share one scenario. He's a playboy & party animal. She shows up at his party. He's immediately interested. Trying to seduce her but she's tough. At some point she makes a comment about his last race. Then he finds out that she knows a whole lot about racing. People tell him that she got dumped by another playboy who she met at illegal street racing event when they both participated. Now she despise all the playboys but the F1 driver takes it as a challenge to prove that he's way better than her ex. Idk with who. Maybe Gasly? I'm just horny for that man

Playboy || PG10 {1}

Pairings: Pierre Gasly x mechanic!fem!reader Warnings: bad language, alcohol, violence WC: 2.9k F1 Masterlist || One || Two

Pierre slapped Charles' chest as he draped an arm over his friend’s shoulders. “Who’s that?” He pointed a ringed finger to the dance floor where you were dancing alone, eyes closed and hips swaying sensually to the beat.

Charles laughed and shook his head as he saw who Pierre was looking at. “Don’t bother, mate. She’s not interested.”

Pierre watched you start to sashay your way to the bar with an empty glass and swallowed the last mouthful of his own drink. “We’ll see about that,” he said with a wink before following your path.

“Hennessy on the rocks,” you ordered above the music. You probably should have mixed it with something but you weren’t in the right state of mind to think about the consequences. You only wanted to get drunk fast.

“Make that two,” Pierre said as he stepped into the narrow space beside you, half his body pressing against yours. “Put ‘em on my tab.”

You dragged your eyes over the man and knew his type in an instant. Self-assured and cocky, the top buttons of his shirt hanging open to show the sun-kissed skin beneath. Yeah, you didn’t need another guy like him in your life. “I can get my own drink, thanks.”

“An independent woman, I can appreciate the sentiment,” he said with a smirk that promised a whole lot of fun between the sheets. “Do you have a name? Or should I just call you Beautiful.”

“Wow, does that line actually get you laid?“

“Ask me again in the morning.”

You grabbed your drink from the bar top and turned your back as you rolled your eyes, making your way through the crowd to lose yourself in the music once more. When you chose your spot in the midst of the other dancers you weren’t expecting to feel an arm curl around your waist, or to see that it belonged to Pierre. Most men knew to keep away.

“You must have hit your head pretty hard when you crashed last weekend,” you said as you looked down at his hand splayed across your abdomen. Rings adorned his fingers and thick veins popped along his muscled forearm before disappearing under his rolled up sleeves. “Or, you’re just not very bright.”

“So you know who I am,” he chuckled in your ear and you tipped your head back to meet his eyes.

“So you don’t know who I am.” Your laugh was taunting and you hoped it would send him off with his tail between his legs but he seemed to be even more intrigued. “I’ve been with guys like you, Gasly. Playboys with fast cars only want a pretty face in the passenger seat, and that just doesn’t do it for me.”

“Then what does?”

His lips were only an inch from yours and you realised your bodies were still moving to the beat, his chest flush with your back. Turning to face him, you planted your palm in the centre of his chest and felt a chain of a necklace tucked under his shirt.

“You’ll never know,” you whispered as your breath kissed the shell of his ear before pushing him away. “Goodnight, Pierre.”

“À bientôt, Beautiful,” he replied with a smirk as he held his drink up. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I told you so.” Charles had watched his friend leave the dancefloor alone and shook his head when Pierre arrived back at his side. “Not. Interested.”

“That one was feisty, but I would argue she was very much interested.” Pierre took a sip of his drinked and inhaled sharply at the burn of the straight alcohol. “Jesus,” he coughed before stealing Charles’ cocktail. When his chest was no longer on fire, and the taste was washed away with the fruity mix, he jutted his head in your direction. “So, what’s her deal?”

Charles sighed, knowing Pierre wouldn’t give up until he knew everything about you and your past. It was the past that you were trying to forget as you ordered another drink and slapped away the wandering hands of men foolish enough to think they could take you home.

“To start with, that’s Leo’s ex you were grinding with.”

“From Street Kings?” Pierre’s eyebrows raised when Charles confirmed it with a nod. The Street Kings were well known in Monte-Carlo for dominating the illegal race scene along the Côte d’Azur and Leo was their top driver. The only thing the Street King was known to treasure more than his car was his Queen. “Shit. What happened?”

Charles shrugged. He was as clueless to the information as Pierre though there were certainly rumours whispered in the streets. The Street Kings were like a family and they kept their business close to their chests, all he knew was that you were no longer welcome in their home.

“She’s trouble, that’s all I’ll say.”

The heat of the bodies packed close on the dance floor became suffocating so you stepped out into the balcony. The fresh sea air filled your lungs and the cool breeze tousled your hair, making the moment almost peaceful. That was all ruined when a hand roughly palmed your ass before squeezing it and you placed your glass on the tabletop.

“Remove your hand before I break it.”

“Don’t be like that, baby,” the man said, his hands still on your ass. “Good girls don’t dance like that unless they want to be touched.”

You turned and tilted your head with a flirty smile that had the guy’s ego inflating even more. His hand came to rest on your hips and you caught Pierre’s eyes from across the room. “You're wrong, I’m not a good girl.”

He licked his lips and looked like he had won the lottery. “It’s my lucky night.”

A soft laugh passed your lips as you reached up and tucked a strand of his bleached blond hair behind his ear. His hands slipped lower to the hem on your short dress as he grew bolder and you rose on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Wrong again.”

You hated to be reminded of Leo, but you used a move that had taught you for self defence. You trailed your hand down his arm as if you were admiring his biceps before reaching his wrist. Turning with your whole body, you stepped back and twisted his wrist in one fluid movement. It was over in a second but the shock lasted longer as the man stared at his limp hand before realisation hit him and his lips parted before he screamed at the pain.

Walking away, you gave him one last glance over your shoulder. “I warned you.”

“See,” Charles said with a shake of his head. “Trouble.”

Pierre laughed to himself and watched you cross the room like you hadn’t just completely ruined the man. “Like I said, she was interested.”

“You, my friend, are a sucker for pain.” Charles sighed at the determined look in Pierre’s eyes and clapped him on the back. “Bonne chance.”

You were still nursing a hangover when you rolled up to work five minutes late on Monday morning. The guys in the garage knew to keep their distance the moment they spotted you arrive with dark sunglasses over your red eyes and an extra large coffee in your hand. They had been on the wrong side of your bad moods before and didn’t want to be there again.

“Charles’ bringing his car in. He asked for you specifically,” Giorgio said after he waited for you to finish your coffee and deemed it safe to approach. “I told him it would void the warranty but he still wants you to service it.”

“I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t trust those Ferrari mechanics to service a scooter, they obviously don’t give two shits about how his car runs, as we have seen.”

“Did you see him at the party? Was he there?”

You rolled your eyes as it only took 30 seconds before he wanted to hear the gossip. “Of course he was there but, before you ask, I didn’t talk to him.”

“Seriously? What a waste! If you’d’ve taken me…”

“Boo-hoo…You can embarrass yourself fangirling over Pretty Boy when he gets here.” You sent him away with a wave of your hand and grabbed your oil stained work shirt from your locker as the roar of a V8 filled the garage. Leaving the staff room, shirt in hand, you went to meet him and found a dark blue Aston Martin Vantage pulling in behind the black Ferrari 488 Pista.

The pair of sports cars parked side by side and you rolled your eyes when you saw who was climbing out of the Vantage. Pierre looked good in a casual white linen shirt, the buttons opened once again, and he tucked a pair of Ray Bans into the deep V of the shirt as he walked to the front of his car and leaned back on the hood. The only difference between his look on Saturday and now was the cocky attitude had been replaced with confusion.

“Hello Trouble,” Charles greeted warmly, twirling his car key around his index finger. He leaned in and kissed your cheeks before waving a hand to his friend. “I believe you two met already.”

“Hi Beautiful,” Pierre said with a smile as he managed to recover from his surprise.

“Playboy,” you nodded before turning your attention to Charles. “The usual, Pretty Boy, or do you have some concerns?”

“You two know each other?” You could hear the accusation in Pierre’s voice and the devil on your shoulder started to whisper in your ear.

You chuckled as you looked at your steel cap boots and kicked the loose stones on the asphalt. “It’s a small city, our paths have been known to cross on the odd occasion.”

“She’s one of the best mechanics around here,” Charles added.

“Ouch! Only one of? Last time you said I was the best you’ve ever had.”

“Is that right, Pretty Boy?” Pierre asked before running his tongue over his teeth and pursing his lips together.

“Working on my cars,” Charles clarified as his cheeks turned pink.

“He keeps it so clean under his hood,” you teased as you licked your lips seductively and gave him a wink that deepened the shade of his blush. “It’s always a pleasure to get up close and personal.”

You laughed as Charles whined your name before sending a pleading look to his friend. “And that’s why everyone calls her Trouble.”

“Trouble by nature, Trouble by name,” you said as you gave him a mocking bow. “So, standard service or…?”

Both men seemed relieved to have the topic return to something safe as Charles answered, “Just the standard service.”

“Perfect, but I hope that’s not your ride home,” you said as you pointed to the Vantage.

“Why not?” Pierre asked as his palm came to rest protectively on the warm hood.

“Did you seriously not hear it?” Your brows pinched together and you scanned their faces to see if they were messing with you. As a mechanic, it would be negligent to let a car leave your garage running anything but perfectly so you sighed and pointed to the driver’s seat. “Start your car, Playboy, and pop the hood.”

Pierre unlocked the hood and you found the latch to release it, lifting it up as he turned the engine over. He left it idling as he joined you at the front and you looked down at your graphic T, not wanting to ruin it.

“Hold this.” You shoved your work shirt into his hand before pulling your top off. You had been around the garage guys long enough that working in a sports bra didn’t even earn a second glance but Pierre wasn’t one of your colleagues and he couldn’t stop staring. “Eyes up here, Playboy.”

That cocky smile of his finally made an appearance as you took your work shirt back and tossed the graphic T at his face. “What?” he asked innocently.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned over the engine and tipped your head to one side. “What do you hear?”

Pierre looked at Charles who just shrugged. “An engine?”

“Gold star for you,” you murmured as you watched the manifold vibrate. “See that? Yeeaah, it really shouldn’t be doing that.”

Pierre joined you in leaning over the engine and a gold cross necklace swung out from beneath his shirt. “What’s wrong with it?”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you mentally ran through the possibilities in your head. “It’s a misfiring cylinder, but there could be…half a dozen reasons why. Let me get my scanner, unless you have somewhere to be?”

“Nothing I can’t miss,” Pierre smirked as he settled against his car and rolled his sleeves up. “Charles can bring his car back another day, right, Pretty boy?”

“Please don’t call me that,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’ll come back tomorrow, Trouble, and leave you two to your date. Don’t expect him to actually help, he just got a manicure.”

Pierre laughed at the good-natured banter and looked at his neatly trimmed nails before winking at you. “I don’t mind getting my fingers dirty.”

There was always a nervousness that settled in when someone watched you work. It didn’t matter that you could take an engine apart and put it back together, the moment an owner started paying attention to your work, your palms would turn clammy.

That didn’t happen with Pierre.

After Charles departed you had driven the Aston Martin into one of the empty bays and grabbed your scanner, plugging it into the ECU as Pierre let his curiosity spill forth.

“How did you get into all this?”

“Same way you got into racing, I should think.”

“Your father?”

“He used to own this place,” you pointed to his name on your shirt, the same name on the signage of the shop. “I grew up here. Always thought I would own it one day.”

You tried not to dwell on the thought that had escaped and instead focused on the diagnostic software as it ran its cycle. Clearing the lump in your throat, you checked the readings on your laptop but Pierre had caught the change in your tone.

“What’s stopping you?”

You looked up from where you were crouched beside the front seat reading the data and cocked an eyebrow. “Despite what Pretty Boy says, this isn’t a date, it’s a job. So, unless you have questions about your car, please shut the fuck up.”

He didn’t even appear taken aback by the acerbic words as he leaned against the car with his arms folded comfortably across his chest. “Fine by me, Friday night works out better for me anyway.”

“What are you on about?” You stood up and went to the tools, grabbing a wrench before heading to the open bonnet.

“Our date,” he stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world and followed close behind. “You know, dinner, drinks, personal questions.”

You paused from loosening the bolts that held down the protective covers around the manifold and pointed the wrench his way. “Yeah, you lost me at ‘personal’.”

He smirked and wrapped his hand around the end, giving it a tug and pulling you closer as you refused to ease your grip. You stumbled into his chest and your free hand grabbed his shoulder to steady yourself, smearing black grease over his white shirt. “Then I’ll settle for dinner and drinks.”

You swallowed at the closeness and tore your eyes away from his lips to fall into the trance of his eyes instead. “I’m not interested, Playboy.”

His smirk only grew and his laugh tickled your cheek as he dipped his head to whisper, “If that were true you would have broken my hand.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you whispered back before sighing. “You’re not going to let this go are you?”

“Not a chance, Beautiful.” Pierre brushed his lips over your cheek and your stomach did a little flip. “You better think of something else to call me, because I’m going to show you I’m not a playboy.”

“You might prefer Playboy when you hear the back ups I have,” you snickered. “Should I go alphabetically? A is for asshole, B is for b-”

“Boyfriend. No way, that’s what I was thinking too.” He grinned and it was infectious. “We’re already finishing each other's sentences.”

“You’re a bastard,” you said with a laugh before realising you were still standing chest to chest with him and took a step back. “You have one chance, one date, that’s it.”

He let go of the wrench and clutched his cross necklace to kiss it like his prayer had been answered. “That’s all I need.”

“Now can I please fix your car?” you asked with a huff that didn’t hold any of the annoyance you pretended to have. “You can’t pick me up in a car that’s not firing on all cylinders, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“I thought your reputation was breaking hands,” he teased.

“It’s actually breaking balls, you just caught me on a bad night.”

He winced and cupped himself as you chuckled and turned back to the car. “That was a joke right?”

You didn’t give him an answer as you held your closed fist out to him. “Hold these.”

“What are they?” he asked as he came closer to take them.

“Your nuts.” You unfurled your fist and laughed as he saw what you had removed with the wrench. “If I find out you are a playboy…consider this your warning.”

Click here for part two.

#pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 rpf

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thealtoduck · 1 year

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NXDE

Peter Parker x Male Black Cat!Reader

Warnings: Reader has a leaked sex tape with his ex, reader’s nudes have been leaked, bullying, crappy guys, crying, mentions of wanting to die, feelings of shame, angst.

Peter Parker x Male Black Cat!Reader: Masterlist

Summary: Peter finds out why you have the reputation as ”the school slut”.

———

Peter was changing back to his normal clothes after P.E class. As he finished changing he saw that a couple of guys were grouped up watching something on one’s phone. ”Yo, Parker, you know Y/n Hardy, Right?” One of the asked.

”Yeah, why?” Peter asked the guy just said ”You gotta see this” and waved Peter over. Peter curiously walked over to see what the guys were looking at. He looked on the screen where he saw a video of Y/n.

Y/n was laying fully naked on his back in bed, legs lifted as the guy filming was plowing in and out of him with his cock. Peter heard Y/n’s moans from the video playing in front of him. He then watched as Y/n came all over himself and the unknown camera man unloaded deep in Y/n.

He looked at the guys and asked shocked ”How did you get that video?”. The guys shrugged and one said ”It’s all been circulating for a few months, i think i heard it came from some chat room but i’m not sure”.

”Wait? All? There’s more?” Peter asked. ”Yeah, there’s some videos and pictures, i think” the guy said. ”Does Y/n know?” Peter questioned. ”I don’t know, maybe?” the guy said. Peter the got all his stuff and left the locker room. He decided to try to find Y/n after school to talk to him about it.

He saw Y/n at his locker and walked up to him, ”Hey Y/n” Peter said. ”Hey” you answered casually. ”So i wanted to talk to you about something important, wanna come to my place?” Peter suggested. ”Yeah sure” you answered.

The two of then made your way to Peter’s apartment, May wasn’t home so you had it to yourself. You and Peter sat down on the couch in the living room and you asked him ”So what did you wanna talk about?”.

”Well… i was in the changing rooms and a couple of guys were watching a video… of you and another guy… well…” Peter tried to break it to you. He didn’t even need to finish he could tell you knew what he was talking about. You sat in silence for a short while.

You just uttered a simple ”Oh… Yeah”. ”I really know how to pick them, right?” You said uncomfortably with a small dry laugh staring down at the ground. ”Well it’s not your fault, the guys you dated were shitheads who would leak that kind of stuff” Peter stated.

You let out another dry laugh and explained ”It started with just fun videos and pictures where i happened to not be wearing a shirt, then some of them started bringing out there phone while i was changing, then when we were having sex” and Peter noticed your voice tremble.

”Then one started sharing those pictures and videos to his friends and the other ones also did sooner or later” you said. ”Then they started spreading around the school and i became the school’s slut, man-whore, fuckboy…” you said and Peter noticed you had started tearing up.

”And when i found out i wanted to fucking die, cause everyone could see videos of me… and i- and i-” you started but broke down in tears. Peter instinctivley threw his arms around you and pulled you closer as you cried. The two of you sat in silence and Peter just let you cry it out.

You then pulled away slowly and looked at Peter with teary eyes. ”Are you ashamed of me?” you asked. Peter took one of your hands and said ”Never” he then planted a small kiss on your knuckle, giving you small smile.

”Can we watch a movie?” you then asked Peter. ”Which ever one you want?” he answered. ”I wanna watch ”Return of the Jedi” so i can laugh when Leia kills Jabba the hutt” you said casually. ”Okay, i’ll get the dvd” Peter said and got off the couch.

#peter parker x male reader #peter parker x male!reader #spiderman x male reader #spider man x male reader #mcu x male reader #marvel x male reader #marvel x male!reader #x male reader #male reader #x male reader angst

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back2bluesidex · 8 months

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Enchanted - KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

Theme: Angst with a happy ending, exes to lovers au.

Request:

HIII i want to make a request for the TS song drabble game Can you do Namjoon x Enchanted the genre maybe angst? fluffiest Its one of my favs ..this idea came to mind while remembering the lyrics.. what if Namjoon lost his memory and reader was a museum crying staring at Nam´s favorite works and then they meet and maybe they fall in love again.. leaving an open ending if he ever got his memory back or not. or maybe he did! whatever you want is fine :)

Song: Enchanted

Word count: 1k+

Warnings: Major character accident, partial amnesia, angst, pining, crying, suffering, reader gets called a bad luck.

Minors and Karens Are Not Allowed in this Blog!!

A/N: A huge thanks to you, anon, for offering this brilliant idea. I changed the storyline a bit so that it fits within a drabble length and I hope you like it.

also, a very happy birthday to our best boy Kim Namjoon. I hope he is happy and healthy just as he deserves to be.

"What are you doing here?"

"eomeoni, I- I"

"Didn't I tell you to keep your distance from now on? Didn't you ruin enough?"

"Please.. I will - I want to see him once. Please. I promise I won’t even step near. I will just take a look. Please eomeoni?"

"No! You - You are bad luck. Look what you did to my poor son. He was rushing to see you just because you fainted and look who's laying on the death bed now!"

"eomeoni.."

"Stop calling me that! You are no one to me! you are no no one to Namjoon. Leave right away or I'll have to report you."

The conversion reels in your head as you stare at the man from afar.

It's been a year since that dreadful night, the worst night of your life. It's been a year since you last saw him, heard his voice, until today.

Your heart rips apart seeing him standing so gracefully with practiced elegance. Nothing has changed. He still looks the same. It feels as if it was just yesterday when he took you to the art fair and bought you that handmade clay-framed mirror.

But you know things are far from being so simple, if anything then everything is much more complicated than ever.

While you still stay awake each night, spending a fair share of time shedding tears for him, he doesn't even recall your name. He doesn't remember who you are, what you sound like, how your touches feel, or the time you two shared being so in love.

You had vanished from his life long ago, vanished from his memories leaving absolutely no traces behind.

He forgot you, even if you know he never intended to, even if you know it was a cruel decision of fate, he still forgot you and you can't change a thing about that.

Silent tears fall from your eyes as you stare at him. Only you know how much you want to run to him, hold him tightly in your arms and tell him that you have waited for him, tell him that you have never stopped loving him, tell him that you love him more than anyone ever can. But you can’t.

And even if you do all these, what will be Namjoon’s reaction? He will just shove you to the ground thinking you are a crazy woman trying to throw herself at him. So you decided to leave. Meeting him unexpectedly here in the gallery should be more than enough for you. You can’t ask for more. You have no right to ask for more.

You turn your heels to leave but you hear a faint voice calling you from behind.

"Excuse me.." it's his voice. It's Namjoon.

You start to panic. Contemplating whether you should run away or give in, you stay planted at your own place.

"Hey. Um.. I am sorry to bother you but I- uh saw you staring at my direction and you seemed to be really familiar.. So, do we know each other?" Namjoon's voice is unsure and filled with confusion.

Your heart breaks. You know you should have not expected him to remember you but his confession still makes you weak on your knees.

Blinking several times and gathering some strength, you turn around and face him.

He's just as handsome as he used to be, if not more.

Seeing you silent, Namjoon clarifies, "Sorry if I seem weird with my questions. I actually got into an accident last year and lost some of my memories. So I tend to ask people who they are if someone seems familiar to me. And you.." he pauses, his eyes raking through your face as if he's trying to find a clue "you seem to be someone very close to me."

"I- I think you got the wrong idea. I mean - I, no, we.. we knew each other through some common friends but weren't exactly close." Your words fumble over each other much more than you would like.

"oh- sorry then." A sheepish smile takes over Namjoon's face.

His dimples make you sick and you want to run away from him.

"I gotta go-"

"May I know your name?"

You two speak out at the same time.

"Y/N. It's Y/N." You say hurriedly.

"Yeah... Y/N" Namjoon whispers.

You don't know if you're imagining things or not, but a flash of sadness passes through Namjoon's features.

"I don't wanna sound like a creep but-" he hesitates.. "I would love to have a cup of coffee with you."

"I am so sorry but I kinda have to go." You reply with your heart breaking into a thousand pieces all over again.

"oh.. then, can I at least have your number? Please?" Namjoon pleas. His voice quivers a bit or maybe you're just hearing things.

You don't know what you should do. You don't know why life is playing these games with you. You don't know where this will go but what you know for sure is that you're enchanted to meet Namjoon again. So you give in and take another chance.

"Sure." You murmur.

Namjoon pulls out his phone from his pocket, unlocks it and gives it to you.

As soon as you take his phone in your hands, your world starts to spin, eyes start to blur, hands start to shake because it's you. It's your picture saved as his wallpaper, the one from the art fair, under cherry blossom, wearing the same hoodie Namjoon is wearing right now.

When you look up at him you find that his dark eyes are full to the brim with tears, which may start falling anytime. He looks as broken as you do.

"The story line didn't end there, Y/N. It was the very first page. And... And I was enchanted to meet you. I would do anything to meet you again."

"You- y-you remember me?" your words get choked.

"How could I not? You are deep-rooted in my heart. My brain may have forgotten a period of time but heart kept on trying to make me remember you. And it was successful." Namjoon smiles through tears, so do you.

"I hope you are not in love with someone else, you don't have someone waiting on you." he whispers, stepping close to your body.

"No- I don't." you reply, taking a step towards him.

Namjoon comes closer, cups your face and connects your forehead with his as you two intertwine your lives again standing in the middle of the gallery.

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae

#bts angst #namjoon angst #rm angst #bts x reader #namjoon x reader #bts x you #namjoon x you #bts fanfiction #namjoon fanfic #bts fluff #namjoon fluff #bts namjoon #bts #bts drabble #namjoon drabble

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bengiyo · 5 months

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Last Twilight Ep 7 Stray Thoughts

Last week, August tried to make up with Day after standing him up on their date. Aon also showed up that day and mentioned that he is participating in a race with his new girlfriend. Day and August started practicing together, making Mhok a bit jealous. August organized a surprise party for Day with the rest of the badminton folks and kissed Day. Unfortunately, August only sees Day as a friend and walked off. Mhok confronted August and then took Day to a rooftop where he then kissed Day as well.

Oh hell yeah! I am so glad we’re not skipping over the kiss aftermath. Mhok is his caregiver, so this is going to immediately change things.

I love Porjai. Got her all worked up just to tell her what she already knew. These two are my favorite exes of the year.

“I didn’t say it.” Well he’s technically not lying.

This show is excellent. August is leaving, so we’ll deal with his mess and then eject him in the first part!

Despite being mad at August last episode, I’m really glad these two get closure. Friend break ups are worse than romantic ones.

They used “delulu” as a translation! Who is on the sub team for this show?? I want to send them flowers!

“That’s so fast.” I love Gee.

“About last night…” Don’t get me started, y’all.

Alright. That rejection in the car hurt my feelings.

Ope. I’m back. Day told on himself and Mhok is back in the game.

Mhok fixed the headband. I love you and your unsubtle metaphors, Aof.

Okay, I love Mhok blaming the shoes August picked for them not being able to sync.

I’m glad Sea is actually an athlete, so he doesn’t have to fake a cramp.

Night definitely notices how comfortable these two have gotten with each other.

This bed scene was probably super easy for them. Sea is always falling asleep easily on set.

OMG they’re stayin gat Mhok’s place before the event.

Porjai said, “Really, in front of my sardine salad?”

Namtam is actually so good. I like the way she uses her eyes.

Mhok planted jasmine at his house!!

She’s naming the baby Mee because Mhok has been practicing reading the book! I’m going to explode.

This show is doing a great job of making me miss Rung.

We have hit on a rare trope I love: Two people who are working out their feelings for each other are sharing a bed and hearing others go at it through the walls.

I’m glad we’re seeing more of Night. Mark is so good at communicating without saying much.

Oh, Day, don’t read too much into that conversation. Mhok’s friend is just looking out for him.

Shoot your shot, Porjai!

I am with Mhok. That’s enough games. Let’s make it clear.

Aof, please continue to be unsubtle. I love you.

Porjai and Night begins! Look at me rooting for hets in BL again.

I’m gonna lose it. Mhok is acting out Aon’s proposal for Day.

I see we were having too much fun. Let’s crank up the angst.

Look at them trying to assuage us with this PPL.

Beach trip next week! This was a lovely episode. It’s so smooth.

#last twilight #last twilight the series #thai bl #bl series #Ben watches

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wixed · 3 months

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Summary: Chyla's entire world came crashing down around her when she finally saw Gale again after six months of being left high and dry while he pursued the Crown of Karsus. At Withers' reunion party Chyla was forced to confront her heartache and feelings on the matter. CW: Substance abuse if you squint, language Tags: God!Gale, Exes with Gale, Slow burn hurt comfort with other companions.

Chapter 1 - Chyla

“Oft… Hello, I’m Gale of Waterdeep!”

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting…but it is a pleasant image to be sure!”

“One moment with you could sate me for a lifetime, and prise the fear from my heart.”

“I’m in love with you.”

Memories of him cut through her like a knife, slashing away at her remaining strength. The echoes of Gale ringing like a voice bouncing through an empty chamber, his words hollowing out her heart.

Chyla brought the near empty bottle of wine to her lips and downed the last drops. Her other companions still laughing in the distance, enjoying each other’s company as she drowns her sorrows. She snuck off to a lonely patch, not wanting to bring down the festive spirits. She thought back to earlier in the night and the conversation she shared with Gale that led to such wallowing.

~~~***~~~***~~~

Months. It had been months since Chyla last saw him. Months since she was left alone in favor of a crown. Months since she thought he had died in his pursuit. Months since she last heard the name “Gale Dekarios”. Yet despite the time that lapsed, none of it could have prepared her for the visage of the Gale before her tonight.

His skin glimmered like freshly polished metal, adorned with the flecks of electricity that seemed to run through his veins, his eyes glowing, almost hollow.

The sight of him descending down from the literal heavens stopped her cold. Chyla had been in the middle of speaking to Minsc about a jail cell and portals, mid chuckle when the breath caught in her throat.

“My friend, Are you-” Minsc had tried to question her sudden silence as he looked in the direction of her focus. “AH! The Wizard has finally shown! …Though you are correct Boo, something seems…different with our bookish friend. Perhaps a new haircut?”

Chyla left Minsc to his own ponderings as she quietly took a few steps in Gale’s direction. Her hands trembled, her vision started to blur at the edges, the noise of the party seemed to be so distant, like she was under water barely able to perceive any of it at all. Suddenly she was being pulled from the ocean of her own thoughts as a hand spiritedly clapped down on her shoulder.

“Whoa, Soldier! Would you look at that! Gale became an actual God! Why didn’t you tell me?” Karlach laughed and she gawked at the new godly Gale across the camp. The laugh quickly quieted as she looked at Chyla’s still shell-shocked face. “...Shit.”

“I… I didn’t…” was all Chyla could muster in response to Karlach’s question. Karlach rubbed the paralyzed elf’s back gently as she looked up to see if anyone else was watching the major faux pax she was sure she just committed. Astarion looked up from the table he was seated at to quirk an eyebrow at them, to which Karlach shrugged with a grimace that wordlessly spoke ‘Help me.’

Astarion turned his head to look in the direction of all the supposed fuss. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes as they found Gale’s visage. Then it all started to click. Chyla and Gale were an item while their merry little band of misfits was still together. He didn’t know what became of the two, but found it odd she had come to the party by herself, he didn’t think to question it immediately, but now it made an unfortunate amount of sense.

Before he could move Chyla continued on her path to Gale, as Karlach watched with nervous guilt.

Once Gale saw her approaching an uncanny inhuman smile planted itself on his face. “Goodness, was Faerûn always so dull?” his voice had a reverberation to it that matched his hollow glowing eyes. “Still at least the company was worth the trip, if not the view…” He muses to himself as Chyla closes the gap between them. “I hoped I’d see you here.”

She stood before him with bones like jelly and a stomach that threatened to revisit the dinner she just ate. “I thought you were dead. I haven’t heard from you in months…” despite her nerves the words leave her lips with an icy layer.

Gale simply gives a small smile. Chyla could feel the anger coiling in her already. “I’m afraid time works quite differently in Elysium. I didn’t realize how long I’d been gone, until I received Withers’ summons.”

The red hot ire coiled tighter in the pit of her stomach, the weightlessness turning to lead, her anger becoming a master of alchemy. “Before that then, before you ascended. Why didn’t you return my letters? A sending spell? Anything?” her voice broke with the last word. Anything. For so long she wanted anything from Gale. Any sign he still cared, any sign she still mattered, any indication that he still loved her the way she did him. But nothing ever came. Nothing was all she received to comfort all the fears and heartache, nothing to hold onto. Nothing.

Gale’s smile faded through her line of questioning. He wore a neutral expression and seemed to consider his next words carefully. “My journey and eventual success reforging the crown was of the utmost importance. I couldn’t allow myself to be distracted, lest I falter and lose the opportunities before me.” The words squeezed around her already hurting heart, suffocating all feeling.

Chyla took a moment to glance around the party. She quickly gathered that all eyes were on her and Gale. Some of the companions were trying to be more subtle than others, but the effect of feeling on display was there all the same. She turned her attention back to Gale, her pained voice low and quiet.

“That’s all I was? A distraction? You couldn’t bother to even assuage the fear that you had perished?” Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. “That’s not the Gale I fell in love with. The Gale that shared the weave with me, the man I swore to love.”

The divine being before her that claimed to be Gale reached a hand out, attempting to tenderly hold her own. She pulled her hand away while averting her glossy eyes. He frowned at the recoil. “Whatever you’re feeling, do not let it cloud your judgment. It’s still me, just an…improved version.”

She finally met his stare, finding no warmth, if there was love to be had it was lost to her, she could not find it. Her eyes narrowed. He continued, “Just because you would have been a distraction to my ambitions does not mean that is all you were. You were so much more to me, you are so much more to me. I had hoped you’d understand.”

She glared up at him, “Then help me understand, because I am struggling to do so on my own.”

As Gale ardently jumped at the opportunity to talk about himself, Chyla tried to even her breathing, steady her heart, try to hear him out no matter how much it hurt to stand in front of him as he was. He regaled her with his journey to find the crown, boasting about his ability to find the right incantations, his skill in taking control of the Karsite weave and using the crown to claim divinity and ascend.

“As expected, Mystra was unwilling to hand over the reins of the Weave, so I’ve claimed dominion over another area with which I’ve passing familiarity: ambition.” He proudly smiled as he spoke, as if the reveal of his domain was enough to impress and be forgiven.

Chyla gave a half scoff, “And what does the God of ambition offer his followers?” Gale frowned but continued.

“I exist not to bestow favors on my followers, but to inspire them to seize their destinies for themselves, exactly as I did. I am their proof. Proof their hopes are not barren wastes, but the loamy soil in which their future achievements will flourish. Proof that with ambition, anything is possible.”

The audience they both had gathered wasn’t lost on her and became apparent when Chyla swore she heard Astarion make an aside to Shadowheart “Anything except contact his paramour apparently.” She then heard him guffaw, no doubt because of an elbow meeting his ribs. She refocused her attention on Gale.

“So you’re no different than any other god.” her words bore fangs as she spat them out. The venom was either lost on Gale or he simply didn’t care.

“I’m simply more honest about my involvement. Not to say I don’t help more actively when the cause arises. A whisper in the ear of a struggling artisan. A breeze to flutter the pages of a tome before a frustrated mage. A magical weapon stumbled upon by a would-be hero.” His words stabbed into her like a dagger finding home. He had already amassed followers, already performing godly duties. In her silence he took the opportunity to continue.

“I am ambition incarnate. As indistinguishable from that most potent sensation as Mystra herself is from the Weave. And word is spreading. There are already several shrines in my honor scattered across the outer reaches of Thay, and rumors of a very prominent temple under construction in Amn.” A light cheerful tone strung itself through his words. It was the same tone that strung itself around Chyla’s neck, a noose choking the air from her lungs.

“You… You had enough time to check on your followers?”

“What kind of god would I be if I didn’t. The timing of such things is of a delicate nature. The creation of my domain required immediate attention, it perhaps is difficult for a mortal to compr-” He was cut off by a slap to his cheek.

“You had enough time to admire your temples, to inspire your followers, but you couldn’t hear my pleas? You couldn’t spare one moment to tell me what you planned to do, what you had done? Six months mourning you and wondering if I'll ever see you again. Six months asking myself what I did wrong to have you abandon me. Six months deluding myself into thinking the man I loved would come back for me. Fuck you, Gale. Fuck you and fuck all of….this.” She gestured at him and then up to the heavens.

He stood poised and stoic despite the slap. When she was done he took a deep breath and let out a disappointed sigh. “I achieved everything we hoped I would, and still I’m not good enough for you?”

Chyla couldn’t stop the angry sobs from leaving her as she clutched her chest, her heart breaking a million times over. “How dare you! How dare you stand there in your godly attire and claim I was the one who thought you weren’t enough. You were everything to me Gale. You were always enough and more. You were the one who only ever thought you weren’t enough.” Her tears rolled down her cheeks, there was no stopping them now. He tried to say something but she cut him off before he got the chance.

“How can you truly believe any of that, when it was me who was never enough for you. Why else would you have left me for the crown? Why else would you have chased godhood instead of a future with me? It’s so clear to me now that my role in this relationship was just to appease all your self doubts. A balm for your bruised ego, a convenient salve for all your lingering insecurities. Once you found a way to cure those on your own, what use have you of me?” She sobbed out the last words hardly able to stay standing, her knees threatening to give under her.

Gale’s eyes narrowed and he looked away from her, as if disgusted by the sight before him. “I came here to offer you the heavens, but I see now such an offer would be wasted. I suppose it was foolish to expect a mortal to understand."

Chyla succumbed to the weight of heartbreak and fell to her knees, supporting herself with one hand on the ground, the other clutching at her heart. Almost in a whisper through sobs she cried “What happened to the man I once loved…”

“He’s the god he deserves to be… I believed in you for so much of our journey. It’s a pity you won’t do me the same courtesy.”

Chyla couldn’t bring herself to answer him. She’s done with pleading for compassion from a god that cares only for ambition. Perhaps if she was stronger she’d have a clever retort. Perhaps if she had done actual healing during those six months instead of wishful denial and dreaming she’d be able to laugh this off for the absurdity it was. But she found no humor in this heartache, she hadn’t let herself move on during those six months and now she was paying a bigger price for it.

Gale dejectedly sighed and moved away from her. She heard a female voice through the haze of her hurt.

“Mr. Dekarios, you are being absolutely vile!” Chyla looked up and saw Gale’s dear Tressyum, Tara. Chyla had only met her a handful of times, but the sight of Tara and the sound of her voice somehow grounded Chyla enough to where she was able to pick herself up off the ground.

Without a word she turned her back on Gale, went to the table still decorated with various food and drink, grabbed a bottle of wine and walked away to a quiet secluded spot by the river.

~~~***~~~***~~~

Chyla rubbed her temples, her eyes were sore from the crying and her head was starting to pound from the wine she had quickly made use of. She heard gentle footsteps approaching her hideaway.

Shadowheart sat next to her, silent for a few moments before offering up another bottle. Chyla raised an eyebrow in question.

“Shouldn’t you be telling me to pick myself up, or take it easy on the wine? I don’t know something wise and profound?” she rubbed her sleeve to her eyes wiping away the lingering tears.

“I’m a cleric, not your mother. And if I’m being honest that looked like an ordeal worthy of at least two bottles.” She gave a sympathetic smile to Chyla as she popped the cork out of the bottle. Chyla chuckled and took the bottle, taking a long drink from it before she rested her head on Shadowheart’s shoulder.

“I don’t even know what to do now, Shadowheart. I feel like such a fool.” the halfelf wrapped an arm around Chyla, rubbing her shoulder in comfort.

“Well, if it helps, Gale made his rounds at the party, continued to be scolded by Tara like she was his disapproving mother, then decided to take his leave.” Chyla stiffened at his name, but relaxed into her friend once more. “Everyone is worried. I know for a fact Karlach feels absolutely awful. Mostly though, we just want you to return and attempt to enjoy the rest of the night, however impossible that may seem right now.”

Chyla sighed and took another long drink from the bottle of wine. “I know I should. I haven’t even said proper hellos to everyone yet…” She got up and stretched her legs, and offered a hand down to Shadowheart, which the cleric took with a gentle smile. She then pulled Chyla into a warm hug, squeezing her tight.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned since our adventure, it’s that happiness is an active thing. You have to fight for it everyday. Like you would a battle.” She pulled back from the hug but kept her hands on Chyla’s shoulders, looking into her face with a soft expression. “I’m proud of you, Chy. You stood up for yourself. You made yourself heard and you didn’t back down. Don’t ever think you’re not enough. Gale’s the fool, not you.” Her soft expression became stern in a loving way. Chyla smiled, she could feel more tears starting to well in her eyes, but she brushed them away quickly and nodded.

Shadowheart escorted her back to the party where she was greeted with several hugs and smiles. Karlach profusely apologized and had a few choice profanities about the whole debacle. Jaheira and Halsin offered sage wisdom, Jaheira being a bit more cold hearted about it than Halsin, but the two took to the role of wizened elders nonetheless.

Wyll came over to offer a comforting hug which she accepted. He had no words, but instead wore a smile that was somewhere between pity and compassion. Wyll was always so genuine and caring, Chyla appreciated his presence here tonight, and even more his understanding that words about the situation were becoming exhausting.

After a few minutes of being the center of attention everyone could tell Chyla was getting uncomfortable. “Come now, leave her be. I believe we were in the middle of watching an arm wrestling match between Karlach and Minsc?” Shadowheart said as she directed the rest of the companions away. Karlach pat Chyla on the back as she sauntered over to Minsc.

“Alright big guy, let’s settle this once and for all!” the fiery tiefling bellowed.

Chyla laughed at the antics and mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Shadowheart. She nodded and smiled in response. Chyla spent a few minutes in quiet contemplation, gazing around the camp that held so many memories. Before she could fall into another sorrowful wallowing session she heard Astarion’s voice behind her.

“He’s an idiot, you know.” She turned to face him, seeing an expression she couldn’t quite place falling over his face. “I… I’m sorry things happened as they did. No one deserves that.” He stumbled over his words slightly, tripping over what exactly Chyla wasn’t sure. She gave him an appreciative smile.

“Thank you, Astarion. Though if you don’t mind I’d love to talk about anything else.” she laughed at her own desperation. “Tell me about what you’ve been up to. I heard you took to the Underdark?”

Astarion pulled up a chair for her, and then one for himself. “Darling, I would love nothing more than to talk about myself.” He quipped with a smirk. They sat at the table for the rest of the night, Astarion telling her of his time since they parted ways back in Baldur’s Gate. He told her stories of the life he’s been attempting to build for himself, his siblings, and all the spawn they freed. It’s come with its own trials, rough patches, and hurdles but he claimed it made the time pass by quickly.

Before she knew it the night was drawing to a close. Everyone was turning in despite Minsc demanding a third rematch against Karlach. Lae’zel chiding him for not accepting defeat at the hands of a superior opponent.

Chyla yawned and decided it was time to turn in as well. “I suppose I should at least attempt a trance.” she said as she got up from the table.

“You go ahead, I’ll keep watch.” Astarion responded back to her, a call back to some of their first nights together. Chyla smiled at him, truly thankful for the conversation that kept her distracted for the remainder of the night.

She wandered to a tent that was set up for her. She crawled in removing her party attire, undressing to her small clothes. She stared up at the ceiling of the tent in stillness. Quiet tears began to flow as she closed her eyes. The first of many nights crying herself to sleep.

“You show me just how much I have to live for.”

“With you, I forget my goddess...”

“I love you.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #Chyla #Back to the start

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writeblrgarden · 12 days

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PLANT GROWERS - MEET THE WINNERS - RAE

Meet Rae, who got third place in our grow a plant event in november! Rae goes by she/her, has a second degree black belt in kendo, and you can find her at @koala2all. She has been writing for about 30 years, primarily YA fantasy.

Tell us about the WIP you'd like to talk about today.

I'll be talking about The Pirate Knight. Being a pirate is all Nonie has ever wanted. Freedom, camaraderie, and a beautiful girl in port to welcome her back. But returning from a lucrative voyage, she finds her home in shambles and her bonny lass missing. Desperate to find her, Nonie makes a deal with the god of the sea. In return for helping return her lost love Nonie vows to become his holy knight, saving the weak and defending the helpless. Together with a cynical sorcerer, a naive orc, and an ex-girlfriend from a rival ship who promises not to rest until their mission is a success, Nonie sets out to prove that she can be a hero in time to save the love of her life. But when a world changing secret is revealed, Nonie will need the help of her friends to navigate the tempest.

Describe your writing process. Do you like to plan everything or are you more spontaneous?

I'm more spontaneous. I usually start a bit backwards actually. I know how I want a story to end, then where it begins, and the rest is a matter of figuring out how to get from point A to point B. Music plays a huge part in my process, as well. I often get inspired by a song for a set of characters or a situation, then I try to figure out where it can fit.

What have you found to be the most challenging and/or rewarding about writing?

The most challenging part of writing for me is that I often feel like I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just kind of winging it, writing stories that make me happy about characters that I enjoy writing about… but up to a year ago I didn't know what a beta reader was. My background is in theater, so I know how to frame a story in three acts… but without the background in creative writing, the imposter syndrome is real!

Below the read more is more of our conversation with Rae

What inspires you to write?

Books were such an escape for me when I was little. All those amazing worlds and vivid characters really helped me through some tough times. And that's what I want to share with others. The world is a hard place right now. I want to give readers a place that they can escape to, with characters they can empathize with as they face trials and overcome them. And maybe take a little hope with them when they're done.

Share some advice for other writers.

The best advice I ever got was from a Terry Pratchett quote. He said, "The first draft is just you telling yourself the story." I am definitely the type of person who dreams of the first draft coming out absolutely perfect. When it doesn't come out that way, I can tend to get a little frustrated. But after I heard this quote, I realized that the first draft is going to be rubbish. That's okay, and that's what editing is for. First, I just need to tell myself the story.

What do consider your writing strength?

Dialogue and worldbuilding are my strengths, for sure. I have such a strong sense of the world my characters find themselves in. My favorite technique is to not explain too much to the reader, but let them come across the world naturally as the characters navigate through it. It's my favorite way of experiencing the world of a story! Dialogue writing is so much fun. I love bantering with my friends, and imagining the banter between two characters is just as entertaining. I myself am a bit snarky (in a delightful way, of course) and that tends to make its way into at least one of the characters speech patterns.

What has been the nicest compliment you've received or what has been the toughest criticism you've received?

When I finished my first novel, I sent it to a knitting acquaintance of mine who happened to be a book reviewer as well. It was nerve wracking, since I had only let friends and family look at any of my writing before, but I had dreams of publishing and wanted to make the story as good as I could before I started sending it out. Her review came back glowing. Four out of five stars, and compliments about the worldbuilding, the characters, the plot, the dialogue. It was such a good feeling!

What do you love the most about writing?

My characters, and sharing them. I love making characters… ever since I was little. I get such a kick out of giving a character a backstory, and then seeing how they grow through the course of the story. Sometimes they really surprise me! And seeing them become important to the readers is really exciting, too!

#growaplant #writeblrgarden #writing community #writeblr community #writers of tumblr #am writing #writers on tumblr #nano winners

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muffin-artz3 · 1 year

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Reader x Knives Imagine

Human

Very slow burn with a lot of angst (enemies to lovers??) Human is an ex-earth soldier. I'm definitely not a writer so bear with me.

Part 2 Part 3

A Human and a young independent Plant became friends while part of the Earth Federation Army. They go rouge and escape to an uncharted planet to live peacefully, to finally put down their guns and forsake killing. Surprised to find that the planet has life, they meet Vash and his gang. Naturally they become good friends and share a lot in common.

Life isn't perfect, but they learn to get by on the new planet and it starts to feel like home. After months of getting to know No Man's Land, the Plant meets Knives one night, while they are alone. He sensed them from afar and is intrigued to know them and gain them as an ally. They talk and he is disgusted by her fondness for humans and how she defends them. He kills the independent Plant. Her last breath used to say her human friend’s name.

Her Human and Vash's gang appear. The Human collapses to the ground and mourns the Plant heavily, while Knives mocks the "fake concern", and starts monologuing about how humans and plants can never coexist. Preparing to kill them all.

During his little speech, the Human snaps and tells him to shut up. Making Knives pause. They scream that they would have given their own life to bring back the Plant. To swap places. Their friend was a young Plant, only 20 years old with centuries to live. The loss of their friend was a loss to the universe. Together they came to No Man's Land to escape being used as tools.

The Human then mocks him back, that he is exactly like humans. Fake in his concern. Killing his same kind because he can't understand or accept the differences of another.

Standing, the Human dedicates what little time they may have left to avenging their friend--their family. They pick up their gun again, and manage to shoot Knives in the shoulder during his moment of disbelief. Shocking everyone. The Human then tells him that they will hunt him down for the loved one he had taken from them. That if he acts like a human, he will die like one.

Knives is stunned, barely snapping out of it to attack again in pure rage, but Vash gets in the way. While fighting Vash and dodging bullets, Knives can't help hearing the Human’s words echoing in the back of is mind. Comparing the human’s speech to his own ideals.

His first witness to how humans can accept something that is different and love them back. Going as far as to kill for a plant. It leaves him pondering and distracted. He retreats to his airship to not waste further energy. Watching the human, from far above.

After he escapes the Human can't be consoled by Vash or the gang. They bury their friend and refuse to move from their grave side for 9 days. Taking very little water or food. After the 9th day, they leave in the night and start their hunt for Knives.

#trigun #knives x reader #millions knives #trigun x reader #trigun stampede #trigun imagines #my gibberish #reader is a seasoned solider here #and very good at what they use to do #trigun Nia #million knives imagine

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karisomk · 1 year

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Attorney! Attuma x Ex Mob- Wife Okoye AU Pt. 1 (Possibly teaser?)

Characters: Attuma x Okoye but mentions of W'kabi prior relationship. Child from their prior relationship. Tags: Angst, Romance, some fluff moments, alluding to abuse and some verbal. Possession. Manipulation. Comfort and possibly death later.

Author's notes: So the muse hit me with this one a while back but I never posted it. I AM VERY AWARE that it is not realistic. But that's fine. I re-read it and still like it. So I'm sharing it afterwhile. And IF you would like to see PART 2 OR more etc. Let me know! Summary:

Attuma A. A well-known attorney for the mob gets a client that needs help with a custody case. W'Kabi desires to take his daughter away from Okoye just to show her he's unhappy about being divorced and because he gets what he wants.

Attuma looked up from the folder he was slowly building for his new client, the urge to show his annoyance was becoming vastly difficult. He should have known how W'Kabi's assistant, argued with his front desk operator this morning, that he was going to be a pain in the ass when here. The soft jazz music that was playing in the spacious office, could be heard by overhead speakers in the front sitting area. The lulling sound of bubbles, from his built-in wall large aquarium filled the silence in his office. The office was spacious, decorated with a black leather lounge that looked brand new near his aquarium. Two large cherry oak wood bookshelves, filled with various books along with a few small office plants. Various oil paintings of the sea were hung up on the wall around his office, fitting the water theme he often favored.

"So just to make sure I heard you correctly, you want full custody of your daughter even though you work seventy hours a week?" Attuma questioned.

"Yes."

W'Kabi's response was quick yet so smug in regard to talking about his daughter with his ex-wife.

"May I ask why when you spoke about how she has more time for your daughter anyway?" Attuma lifted a brow, tapping his pen on his desk.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't fucking aware that the fifty thousand dollars check, that cleared into your account needed an explanation as well!" W'Kabi snapped.

Attuma stayed silent but merely looked at W'Kabi over his small black rectangle glasses, unphased by the insult. But part of him should have shut the folder right then and there. And advised him, the money that was processed will be given back to him promptly. But instead, Attuma straightened himself leaning back into his black plush leather chair. W’Kabi’s attitude wasn’t new to him after all he worked with several clients that served the mob, but this level of spite was a little different.

"Mr. W'Kabi this is more in regard to the judge. He or she will ask you the same question so it is better to tell me now or at least tell me what you would like to tell the judge."

This seemed to cool W'Kabi's flaring temper, the brief scowl on his features now replaced with a smile. "My wife. Well, my ex-wife, she insisted on pushing for. Wants to file for full custody and says that I do not have the time for our daughter." He started to explain.

"I am filing for full custody because I want to. Because I get everything I want. And because my fucking ex-wife needs to learn, it was a mistake for even divorcing me. So, until she recognizes that, my child will be staying with me. And if she changes her attitude then maybe she can see her daughter. " The spite filled in W'Kabi's words made Attuma's skin crawl, his grip on his pen tightening slowly while he fought to be stoned face.

This wasn't his first time being selected to be a representative in a post-messy divorce and wouldn't be his last. But this pitiful excuse of a man beforehand chooses to hurt his ex-wife by using their own child.

"Understood, so the true answer to the judge would be that you are the better-fit parent in other words. Rather it is by being there more financially. But the judge will not hear any of this if you are not showing proof of being there for your daughter. But I am sure the judge can be convinced that you are now working a lighter schedule by the first hearing."

W'Kabi hummed in approval, "See and this is why you are the most recommended legal firm here in the city. If you get Namor and his gang out of lifetime sentences, this should be a breeze for you".

Attuma hated that W'Kabi was at least correct about that, with the right evidence or holes in cross-examinations he always got cases thrown out with ease.

------------------------

After an hour of debriefing with W'Kabi, Attuma was ready for a drink if he heard one more story about why his beautiful ex-wife didn't want him anymore. He was going to toss this man out on the street and his folder. Any information about Okoye, left little room for him to argue in court about how she was a unfit mother. W'Kabi knew that Okoye did everything for their daughter, she was the one that took her to school and practice. She was the one that their daughter preferred living with even as W'Kabi offered for her to stay with him. The two didn't want anything to do with him, so this entire case was just sheer pettiness.

And yet somehow, W'Kabi expected Attuma to argue this down and have the judge favor him. Attuma mentally called to Chacc, asking for patience for himself and for dealing with his fool of a client.

Once his contract of service started with W'Kabi, a notion was filed to get a peace officer to serve Okoye. This settled the disgruntled man, after leaving his assistant's desk number and his personal line for Attuma to call him he left the office.

Attuma’s gaze was on the manila folder that still sat on his desk, his gut twisting in knots about his discussion with W'Kabi. Warm brown eyes flickered up once a soft knock was heard. An elder dark-skinned woman stood in the doorway, dressed in a dark blue blazer with matching pants. Her blouse of a cream color that matched her cardigan that was thrown over her shoulders. Her grey coils were styled in a pixie cut.

"I don't mean to bother you and you know most of the time I do not pry. But you didn't just really take that man's case, did you?" she quietly asked.

"I did, Mrs. Gia and hopefully you don't mind but I think we should close early today" Attuma sighed softly before moving to get to his feet. Turning away to close the blinds in his office, he knew she was still watching him.

"Mr. Almehen-" Gia started to say, that familiar tone typical to that of what a mother takes before scolding their child. A tone he knew well whenever he came into work sick, or just simply overworked himself.

Attuma moved to grab his briefcase afterward, still avoiding her gaze before he finally looked at her. And just as he knew from the tone, that light glare was in place.

"I could hear him in the front, that was how loud he was and the way he spoke about his wife." Gia gave a frown and shook her head. "Look, this should be an open and shut case no matter what Mr. W'kabi thinks. The sooner the cases start the better and then I won't have to see him anymore. Now please lock the doors for now until we’re both ready to leave, so no more inquiries for today.”

#fanfiction #fic prompt #angst prompt #attuma #mcu okoye #okoye x attuma #attuma x okoye #to read

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ms-nesbit · 10 months

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Jason Todd imagine

Rating: 17+ (language, adult themes, implied sexual content)

Summary: you, with the help of Jason, escaped prison, and ran off to live with the ex-Robin while he pursued his dream of becoming a baker.

Warnings: implied sexual content, prison themes, implied abuse, reader and jason are trauma-bonding

Note: i had a dream about this days ago, and now i cant sleep. Idk what it is about these vivid dreams, but i will admit, having jason reach out his hand and tell me to trust him? Wow.

As always, please reblog this post to share, and don’t repost it. Thank you!

“It’ll be okay, yeah?” Jason asked, head bowing and smile cocky.

Yeah, you said, grinning back.

The bakery was warm, inviting, as was the tall, muscular man behind the counter, restocking the countertop case with a delightful array of cupcakes. His red apron - which fought to stretch barely past his knees - hugged his figure well, and although he often caught your eyes too attached to him, it was the most positive attention he’d had in…ever.

The prison stairway was quiet underneath the sound of footsteps approaching, and your heart beat faster, only to be relieved, as Jason quickly greeted you in a forced whisper. “Hey,” he started, crouching down on a stair above your seated place, “do you… do you think we could make it out?”

You blinked at him, baffled by his idea. Jason was always one for grand everything, but escaping prison? It seemed too far-fetched, especially with you in tow. “Okay, I get what you’re thinking here.” Jason defended, hands raised, “I…I’m getting out in a couple days. I dunno what is out there, but I want it to be with you.”

Jason’s confession still sat with you, words a catalyst to your heart’s rising like treated dough. It hadn’t mattered that you were far different than before your incarceration, nor that you were necessarily the hottest - he loved you. He felt the spark ignite between you two the moment he bumped into you in the yard of the prison, and you spat on him with great hostility; you felt the spark months later, when he walked in on you crying silently on the staircase - the very same one he’d ultimately confess his feelings for you - and comforted you.

“Whoa.” the words came from overhead, and you glanced to find a worried Jason, at the top of the staircase, beige prison uniform sleeves rolled up. “You uh, you ‘kay there?” You turned away and huffed. “Okay, bitch still bites, I guess.” he commented, baiting you successfully, as you tossed him a deadly glare through tear-stricken eyes.

“Fuck you.” you spat, voice unstable.

He sighed, skipping down the stairs bountifully until he was next to you, taking a seat on the other end of the stair. He folded one leg, but rested his other on the stair below him, his spine relaxing against the stairwell handle. “Take it out on me,” he waved his hands dramatically, before quietly adding, “like everyone else.”

The words hurt you more than his insults, and you felt compelled to reply earnestly, swallowing your distaste for his arrogance. “Sorry, I uhm, I-I just don’t know what got in me.” you admitted, face heating up from Jason’s hazel eyes falling on you. “Been going through a rough patch lately.” Jason nodded in response, fixing his posture so both feet were planted on the stair below him, leaning forward away from the railing to shift his weight to his elbows, which were placed on his thighs. You noticed the tattoos on his biceps as they revealed themselves when Jason moved. “Why have you been so forgiving to me?”

Jason laughs to himself. “Wouldn’t say forgiving as much as tolerant.” he corrected. “But I could ask the same about you, seeing as you don’t engage much with other inmates here, but completely acknowledge my existence, even from miles away.”

It was true. The staircase fell silent after his observation, and you processed the times you’d seen him: as much as you detested him, you didn’t.

It made sense.

“Hey, Babe, can you try this for me? I made it this morning since Sven was having me be senior baker for a week.” Jason erupted from behind the counter, shoving a black, red, and yellow cupcake in your face the moment you walked through the bakery entrance. You took the cupcake from his hand and investigated it, noting the careful piping of buttercream, and the yellow paper liner. Taking a small bite from the cupcake, Jason stared at you, on his toes. “Vanilla…” you smacked your lips, unable to identify the mystery flavor, “...with a ganache filling, and… what is that? Is it almond?”

The prison guards entered the staircase through a lower-level door below you and Todd, searching for him. You held his hand, afraid to let go, and he placed it over yours in reassurance. “I think I love you.” your voice was shaky, scared, as it was years since you trusted someone this much.

Jason felt the tremor in your voice, one that was so different than your rendezvous with him in the library, and he squeezed your knuckle. “You know that I do.” he said confidently. It was true: Jason loved you from the moment he stepped off from the prison bus, cuffed and lined with other transfers from federal; you sat on the grass, chewing on your lip, as you sped through the remaining chapter of a book you borrowed from the prison library. Whether it was the way you reacted in real-time to the events unfolding in the chapter, or maybe the way that you threatened a guard that kicked the book from your hands, Jason doesn’t know. To him, it was irrelevant, as long as he had you.

The guards cornered Jason, ordering him to stand and follow them to his exit back to the real world. Back to reality. Away from you.

And as the guards attempted to usher Jason to the door, he kissed your hand, giving you a mischievous wink before a fight broke out on the upper floor, causing the guards to leave Jason unattended, and with door cracked.

“Now’s our chance.” Jason smiled widely, extending his hand to you. “Please, y/n. Come with me. I can’t do this without you.”

You rose to your feet, immediately taking his hand into yours. “What the hell, Jason? Are you stupid? I’ll get ten years added, and you’ll get your sentence extended, too.”

He took both of your hands and held them in his, his big hazel eyes gleaming in admiration and hope. “Do you trust me?”

“Pistachio, actually.” he grinned at you. “Is it a good combo?”

You appreciated how much he confided in you, even after all this time.

“Yes.”

Jason pulled you into his arms, rushing you and him out through the prison exit, and into the real world, your fingers intertwined in his. He looked back at you with heavy implication, a wedding proposal on the brim of his iris, as you two fled the prison property, and into your fantasy world.

“Good.” he locked his jaw and scanned your body, giving you a suggestive look before locking the bakery door behind you, and leading you to the main floor of the bakery, pulling you into a passionate kiss. His lips were soft and plump, and he touched you with delicacy, swirling aromas of vanilla and brown sugar winding into your nose. It was familiar - his touch, embrace, possessive eyes - but it was welcomed, always.

And as you two lived a life in secrecy, privacy, united in a love neither of you thought of, the daffodils on the bakery garden swayed, and the sunflowers rose tall - taller than Jason, and the chrysanthemums, sneaking past their counterparts, smiled at you two.

#jason todd #red hood #mine #robin #my post #batfamily #dcu #jason todd x reader #prisoner!jason todd #inmate!jason todd #baker!jason todd #baker!jason todd #soft!jason todd #red hood x reader #jason toddheadcanons #jason todd imagine

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jennilah · 1 month

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I think i started to follow you bc of tiny!cas, like eons ago, let me tell you seeing you get into different fandoms over the years has been a delight.

I remember seeing post of you going like 'hey these slasher film kinda go hard' and look at you know.

I mean this in the best way possible, I feel i've been watching a house plant grow, every now and then catching my attention and being amazed by the changes

omg thats such a sweet way of describing my... well happy autism awareness day everyone, its a nice way of describing the way i naturally transition through my Special Interests lmfao

actually, for the holiday, let me infodump about this very aspect of my brain to anyone who isnt aware how this works for me. (also every autistic person is different, so this is just how this symptom manifests in me)

ill say "phases" to simplify, though thats an unfair word because it implies im "over" my past phases. 99% of my past phases are pretty much there for life, but in the back of my mind. (So long as I didnt have a "bad breakup" with it for some reason, which is rare but happens) The ability to become a raving lunatic about it is dormant until someone asks the right question.

There can only be one interest (sometimes 2, with one being the less dominant one) at the forefront of my brain at a time, though. that defines the "phase".

so for example, my recent Halloween phase is "over" and I am 100% fully into Saw now, but I still absolutely love Halloween and Michael and Jason and all those guys. as evident by me still happily sharing gifsets and art and buying merch etc if it tickles my fancy. They're just hanging out in the background of my mental display case.

yea whoever follows my tumblr for a very long time has watched it happen in realtime. the transition between interests. i know for a fact which phase I started this blog on. if you're here from the beginning, youve seen, in order:

-Durarara!! -Deus Ex -Supernatural -Godzilla -Detroit: Become Human -There was like a few weeks where it was HLVRAI -And then it was plants. There was a year-long stretch with no Special Interest and I was latching onto odd things (and I was very inactive here) -Halloween & Friday the 13th -and now, Saw

I have many other things I love, but they don't clamp around my brain in quite the same extreme way.

my phases can last any amount of time, anywhere from a few short intense months to 5+ years, its completely random, completely unpredictable. even the interest itself is impossible to predict. its not something i choose, its something that happens to me.

sometimes i avoid watching things for a long time because im still very emotionally attached to my current phase and im genuinely afraid the shiny new thing will replace it. all art or fic ideas for the previous phase? theyll be abandoned. all I will want to create will be related to the new thing. (though I will sometimes draw it anyway, like digging up old toys to play with once in a while. The likelihood just drops considerably)

which is why right now i pretty much put a pause on the other franchises I plan on watching. I'm genuinely gripping onto Saw like someone is tryin to take it from me.

and then sometimes im like "haha yeah right. ill be fine. ill eat my shoe if my brain latches to this" and then put on the movie and by the credits roll im a new person (yes thats what happened with Saw. I really had no idea.)

this is also why im terrified of even just "checking out" things that have, like, a toxic fanbase or something, because i cant stop a new phase from happening if it does. and its really hard to keep it to myself, fuck

(do u know how mad i was when i realized i was attaching to hoffman the evil dirty cop??? i was so scared of drawing him, dudes. but thankfully everyones been cool abt it and we're all very aware of his awfulness & we have fun w it)

and every time my brain changes and i do get obsessed with some new thing, i get really scared and worried and hope I dont bother everyone who followed me for something else :(((( and yet, every time, im absolutely floored by how many people choose to tolerate my newest nonsense and stick around anyway

anyway ive lost the plot of what point i was making here OH YEAH thank you!

tl;dr: that would be the autism! thank you, it WILL happen again! that is a threat! 🥰

#jennilargh #jenna answers

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breesays · 6 months

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My son, my sun

Where did my little boo learn to talk to plants? We take plant babies from Gramma Lita's massive yard, recently started propagating them in water. Nothing for the first couple of weeks. Then Des said, "Mama, let me hold them" - and he took the bulb in his hand, looked lovingly at that little would-be-could-be plant and spoke to it in a way that astonished me. "You are so beautiful" he said. "You are doing such a good job. I am so happy to see you." I died, they thrived.

Four nights ago we unwrapped a fragrant bath bomb and I said, "Mmm, rose" and he started serenading me, from the "wonderful roses" part of "Til There Was You" and who can even do that? I feel like if I want to sing something, even casually, I have to start from the top. He vocalizes the percussion part of songs. Chh chh chh. Probably not revolutionary, but something new for my brain.

Some of the moms who got a spot in TK are reporting back that one of their kids "goals" for the year is to count to 20. Oh. Des can count to 100, and in Spanish. The other day he taught me how to say "knees" in Spanish, which is when I found out he can sing "Head Shoulders Knees and Toes" in a second language. He remembers numbers really well, and has a good grasp of time. He can math way more at 4 years old than I could at like, 7 years old - and that's just because it's interesting to him, measurements and doubling things and how old was his friend Felix when he turned 2? Sometimes I just have to say, "That is a calculation I can't do on the fly, buddy."

He's growing his hair out long so he can make it curly, like his friend Vienna and his cousin Emerson. I wish he liked to read books together more, but maybe that will come later. It's OK if that's an interest we don't share. We make up new words until we're too tired, me channeling the IKEA catalog. Sometimes he says, "I have an idea - let's count to the highest number we know" to which I reply, "That does not sound like fun to mama, can we play a word game instead?" He also loves blowing up and popping balloons. Actually, he loves doing a lot of things with balloons - keepy uppy, birdy-flying, inflating then deflating, using them as stamps, talking about them on his imaginary YouTube channel...

He likes to eat seaweed snacks and will basically try any food at least once. He loves tomatoes, so much so that he will eat them like an apple. He steals my sushi and told me the pumpkin seeds needed "more paprika."

He makes funny observations. I took him to my work party recently and I told him Erica was in charge. When we looked back at photos from that night he asked, "Does Erica ever go home?" I said "Yes, of course, she has two kiddos of her own - why do you think that she doesn't?" He said, "Well, she's in charge."

My therapist is retiring at the end of the year, and then I won't have anyone to tell me what's healthy or adjusted anymore. I told her that sometimes Desmond says, "You know, Mama, I love Dada more than you." I respond: "That's OK, my love for you doesn't change." It doesn't hurt me, it makes me curious - what is he trying to accomplish? That non-judgemental curiosity they tried to summon from the depth of my cold being during the "can we save this marriage?" time - there it is! Therapist said: It's remarkable that he even vocalized this. It's called secure attachment.

For awhile I also wondered - does Des need therapy during this transition? He has asked why we don't live together anymore and I said, "not all families live together" - but all the families he knew of, did. So we got a couple books. Representation. Therapist said: Unless he is acting out, or it's disrupting, he is ok. Again, the fact that he's even asking these questions is GREAT. I do a value a good question-asker.

I'm still writing my book of essays and I've recently hit 38K words. I've considered publishing under a pseudonym, because I don't want to FIGHT about asexuality. I just want some previously unlearned people to know that it EXISTS. I publish most of my revelations and feelings about being Ace on my Medium. The blog that upset him was titled "Ace Week 2023" - and posted on Medium. I didn't have the time or mental capacity to react at the time. I just chose not to. Spiral, if you must - I will not add any fuel. But I did feel mad, when I unboxed that compartmentalization --

Sometimes I want to be kind and gentle and empathic because, wow we didn’t know anything, did we? There wasn’t the vocabulary for what I was experiencing. There were no alternate storylines to draw inspiration from. But sometimes I am furious, violated, underestimated.

If you just light the path, everyone will find their own way there, right? I’m the deer in headlights, then I run towards the inevitable crash. Scampering off into the unlit wild was somehow more intimidating. So, blind yourself. Numb yourself. Anything to get to the other side.

#breesays #parenting #medium #toddlers #therapy

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anonymityisfunwriter · 1 year

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What are some moments with sunshine, Bucky, and nick fury? Like when fury found out about them, he seeing some pda? And/Or what about sunshine and nick? Like it was nick’s birthday and sunshine gave him a present and cake.

So...

I want to preface this with usually these things are very planned out. Like intricately planned out. There's an entire Google Doc of my babbling ideas.

Every time I think there isn't going to be more to explore, you guys flip another stone and boom, a dozen more ideas just like that. So thank you so much for sharing!

This is very off the cuff, and I may or may not explore this more, but this scene played out in my head and I thought it was funny, so... Here you go!

"No," Sam hisses into the phone, turned away from the conference room table as more of your team-mates filter into the conference room. "I'm not covering for you again. Fury's gonna be here today so you both need to get your asses here."

"Please?" you plead. "We're already in the city. We won't even make it back in time. Please?"

"No!"

"Please, please, please?" you implore.

"No. No-"

"Okay, thank you so much, Sam. Love you! Bye!"

"I-" Sam starts, only to be cut off by the little beep of a dead line. He angrily exhales at the dark phone screen. "Damn it."

Clint chuckles at Sam's expression. "They're not coming, are they?"

"No," Sam huffs. "They're not."

"Have fun explaining that to Fury," Clint snickers.

"Do not make this worse for me," Sam warns, already dreading telling Nick Fury that half the team hadn't even shown up for this meeting.

But he, the responsible Avenger that showed up prepared and 15 minutes early, was now going to have to answer for his truant teammates.

"Come on," Clint guffaws. "Doesn't matter what I say. Fury's got massive blindspots when it comes to anything about his golden child. "

"Do not make this meeting any worse for me, Clint," Sam pointedly repeats.

Clint continues, brushing off Sam's comment with another teasing remark. "You're telling me that he doesn't? The man is the literal director of SHIELD. He knows what happens in this Compound before the thought even occurs to anyone, and he hasn't figured out that his golden child has now moved in with Bucky?"

"Don't start," Sam sighs, not meeting Clint's probing gaze.

Clint knowingly gasps, his new realization lighting up his entire face. "Oh my God, he doesn't even know they're together, does he?"

Sam falters for a moment, silently cursing both you and Bucky for what he was going to have to put up with today. "But that's none of our business and we most certainly aren't going to say anything about it before they can!"

"But they're not here now, are they?" Clint challenges, a mischievous grin firmly planted on his face. "This is gonna be an amazing meeting. I can feel it already."

Sam leans over the table, planting both his hand on either side of him. "Please, Clint. I beg you to keep your mouth shut."

Clint shrugs, nonchalantly settling back in his chair. "You're just lucky Steve's not here. He'd fold the second Nick asked where they are."

"Where who is?" Nick questions, striding into the room.

"Um... it looks like a few of our fellow teammates will not be here today," Sam reluctantly informs, once again, silently cursing you and Bucky for making him cover for the two of you. Again. "They send their regards."

It wasn't that Sam was scared of Nick Fury, but he definitely didn't like the grimace already forming on Fury's face before he's even spoken.

And the thing was, Sam already knew that Nick Fury had an undeniable soft spot reserved for you. That soft spot undoubtedly came with perks, but that also meant Fury was very protective over you. Nick Fury being Nick Fury would never truly admit it, but he cared immensely about you.

Sam didn't really think you were deliberately hiding your relationship from Nick, you didn't see Nick very often and when you did it was usually in passing. One thing Sam did know, is that today of all days, in a meeting about an extremely important upcoming mission, and from Clint of all people, would be a terrible way to break that news to Nick Fury.

Nick opens his mouth to speak, but Sam cuts him off, quickly adding, "But I will relay any and all information to them."

"You could probably just tell Bucky, they're very close these days," Clint teases, using his hand to cover his suggestive smirk.

Sam isn't sure whether Clint's insinuation really does just go over Nick's head or if he's just choosing to ignore Clint, but Nick turns back to Sam with a frown. "And why isn't the entire team present?"

"Steve and Natasha believe they found a new lead in their assignment, so they are currently leading a recon mission. They'll be back later today," Sam informs, avoiding the subject of you and Bucky.

"And?" Clint prompts, a wicked grin on his face that tells Sam that he's enjoying the torment he's causing far too much to stop.

Sam clears his throat, biting back the obscenities he desperately wants to hurl at Clint. Sam gestures to the two glaringly open seats where you and Bucky both usually sit, "And they have both decided to take a personal day."

"At the same time?" Clint muses. "Isn't that strange?"

Sam sucks in an angry breath, sharply kicking Clint's shin underneath the table.

Nick cuts Clint off with the wave of his hand. "What she, or any of the other team for that matter, does on their off time is none of my concern."

"More like who."

"Clint," Sam sharply admonishes.

And with Clint's little snide comment, it all suddenly clicks into place for Fury, the realization hitting him like a truck. "Motherfu-"

Fury Finds Out (Part 2)

Grumpy Sunshine Series Grumpy Sunshine Drabbles

Let me know what you guys think! 💛

Grumpy Sunshine Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr

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