#and she'd do it because she loves him despite everything
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Lover Contract (Victor)

I will not make summary… there is not much plot in this story. They came to this club (for lovers only), noticed the guy they needed to check out, and… look around a bit. That's all. But… Kate and Victor had interesting (even philosophical) thoughts, and I would like to reflect on them…
But before that… Victor spoils us a lot with his gentle expression at this event. And… because of that, it took me longer than usual to read it… I just couldn't help but stare at him..

(smiles tenderly) He's so cute…
The post turned out to be quite big. Like like my theory post… very big. I am surprised myself. But I mentioned that I liked this event, even though it didn't have much plot, it contained a lot of interesting thoughts and made me think. More than usual… if that even possible.
They came to this club to confirm that one of the Prime Council member is having an affair. And they noticed him right away… Victor was contemplating…

Despite the fact that he seems to be a person who sees everything only in white and black… bad or good… He doesn't divide people based on that. In his eyes, they are all the same. Friends or foes… they all are just people. The only reason he decided he had to use this information against the guy… because he needs to protect Crown. If he didn't have to, what would he decide? I wondering…
And after that, they noticed another acquaintance… The guy who is famous for being a faithful husband and even making speeches about it… But it turned out that he has a mistress.

Victor looks extremely angry here. That's not the right word… he looks at the guy with disdain. The fact that someone is cheating annoys him, as if for some reason it is very personal to him. Had someone betrayed him? Had someone betrayed his loved ones?
At the very end of the main part of the story… Kate… looking at all these unfaithful spouses thinking out loud…


After everything she'd seen… unsurprisingly, she began to doubt…

He's fascinated by love in general. I have a feeling it has something to do with his curse… Freedom and love… All fairy tales are about at least one of these concepts, but they're usually about protoganist, not antoganist. Was there antagonist somewhere who did bad things for love??? I… don't remember… If ANY love is "fascinating"… As Ally said in the Chocolate event, "everything is fair in love and war." It must be somehow related… No, I still can't catch that thought…



A long sentence on the middle screenshot… can be not entirely correct. I found a very interesting dictionary. It's quite easy to split a sentence into words. BUT… most languages have a very strict order of words in a sentence. And if you know this order, you can easily understand that the part of the speech every word should be. But… there are no special restrictions in my native language… as you may have noticed, I'm constantly playing with words.So, out of habit, I could interpret these words as I see fit. Even adjust it to my thoughts. There was a question in the original text, but it was in the middle. But to make it sound more logical, I changed the sentence to this.
And this wording of his makes me think that he is not a human. He talks about them as if he is just an observer… and has nothing to do with them…

And here we go… What he said earlier was… just a fact, and he doesn't judge others, this it their life. But personally he doesn't like cheating. Nice to know.
Bitter ending
After a short walk (I don't see the point in telling you what happened there, it's not relevant) they return back to the main hall. Kate is thirsty (I wonder why), Vivi notices this and orders drinks.

Well, he's a second Gilly-bee. He probably knows more about you than you know yourself…


I played with the words again, but it seems more correct than what the mechanical translation suggested to me. So… she feels like he's far away… for many reasons: age, experience, knowledge, status… But he takes it literally. The distance. We learned from the LINE campaign that he has been looking out for her from a DISTANCE for a very long time. And… he feels lonely because even though he is with her right now, she still thinks he is far away.
If I had read this BEFORE the LINE campaign, perhaps I would have interpreted these words as his usual sad thoughts about loneliness. But now everything is completely different. And in the next part, he literally says it. He took her hand and told her that he was here with her. And he's "just like her." It's a very peculiar wording. I'm not going to talk about it now. I'm more happy about the next part. He never considered himself free.

He FINALLY admitted it. Where it was… in one of my theory posts… I was talking about freedom… here. It was pretty obvious, but Vivi had never confirmed it before… But here… he really became more open, more… naked, as he said in the epilogue… It was as if he no longer had the desire to remain an observer with her… It feels like we're already in the middle of his route. I'll explain why I think so later.
Kate had an interesting thought…

It makes me think about that damn…. fish… again… I know she's not a fish, she's kind of humanoid. Thatever! The mermaid is not the villain in this story… She's a victim. A victim of betrayal. She suffers from the moment she fell in love until the very end. But… It seems that everything fits too well into the story… And the fact that he takes care of her from a distance, and the fact that he used to be free, but no anymore… It's just too similar. Annoying so. Calm down, girl, it's too early to riled up. But if his curse is that damn fish, I'll scream!
And the fact that Kate either thinks of him that way, or already knows about it… It seems that this is already his route.
Premium ending
We talked for a while on the balcony. After Kate said that she now considers love to be freer than she originally thought… Victor suddenly noticed.

IT'S SO CLOSE!!! But not quite. Oh, what a shame! If you don't understand what I'm implying, I've written about it here.
And after Kate asks, "What kind of love is Victor looking for?"


I don't need Harrison to confirm this, it's obvious that he's lying. Well… he wasn't lying, but he wasn't completely honest either. Yes, he's obsessed with taking care of everyone, but… It's more like… a habit. I don't know… or… unfulfilled desire… Projection, maybe?… No one cared about him, so he's doing this for others?........
Kate was more honest when Vivi asked her the same question. She said that despite the fact she had seen many very strange expressions of love today… and she began to understand the difficulties associated with spending her life with one person, but…


It's a very sweet dream… And look at him… he fully shares her dream. But he decided to NOT said it out loud and pretend to be a clown again. Sad…

Don't talk like it's not going to be you or… to be completely honest… already you.
In the epilogue, she thought that she wants Vivi to love her, and the way her heart stops all the time is a great hint of this as well. SO… we are already in the middle of his route. BUT it hasn't been released yet. The paradox.
I will only mention this from the epilogue…

Now I'm curious to see…
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🔝 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 🔝
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#ikemen villains#ikevil#ikemen villians#ikevil JP#Ikevil event#victor#ikemen villains victor#ikemen victor#ikevil victor#victor theory
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this is a public service announcement to all revali fans: i invite you to join my campaign for the belief that mipha and revali are like, besties. there is no textual evidence to support this however i would like to dedicate the rest of this post to basically form a manifesto for this dynamic.
first it's important to acknowledge that botw and all champion related materials are kind of underbaked and don't elaborate on possibly any idea related to the champions enough to create Analyzable Depth, so when talking about these characters there's always an element of identifying either potential/setup for these characters and kind of trying to extend this. engaging with these characters kind of inherently means doing, in at least some part, the job of the writer and low key Making Shit Up. i acknowledge this and also embrace it and i suggest you do too.
so, mipha and revali: they are low key parallels, or at least play parallel roles to each other. the champions could be 'divided' into whether they relate more to zelda or link, and coincidentally link gets the boys and zelda gets the girls. daruk and urbosa are the older figures who take on a low key parental role to link and zelda respectively. daruk hangs out with link and gets him to loosen up a bit (source: his dlc diary) and urbosa is the one who cares for zelda and understands her deal the most (source: every single time urbosa is on screen). revali and mipha are, then, the peer character meant to 'challenge' link and zelda respectively.
revali challenges link's status as 'the chosen one', whether he really deserves this title and status etc by being the only champion with no inherent authority who had to work his ass off for any status he does have. mipha challenges zelda's role as a princess, by being also a princess with special powers who's practically perfect at everything zelda sucks at (being good at her power, getting along with link, having a loving family, having her people have complete faith in her, being mourned extensively after her death etc). revali and mipha further foil each other: revali is the most Outraged by the entire situation, whereas mipha is the most complacent. revali bases a lot of his beliefs about the situation largely on misunderstanding and projection, whereas mipha possibly has the most understanding about everything (about her entire role in this, about how special princess powers work, about link and generally the people involved). having these two characters interact and like, talk about things is inherently an interesting concept because of this.
furthermore, i believe they could bring out sides in each other that are largely unseen in most contexts. mipha is generally quite passive and quiet, despite having the most understanding she doesn't proactively voice it nor tries to actively 'enlighten' anyone. the one time she does try the apocalypse happens and even then she isn't like 'ok we are on borrowed time zelda lets debrief u need to unlock ur powers stat' shes just kind of like oh ok. guess the Very Important Conversation That Could Solve Everything has to wait. revali, on the other hand, doesn't shut the fuck up, and never even considers that he's wrong or working off of wrong premises. despite this, both of them have sides to them that are not like this: revali acts like a pompous asshole, but from his dlc scene and journal we can infer he has a bunch of underlying insecurities and also does Genuinely Care. and mipha, again from her dlc scene, has some older sister snark that comes out when she interacts with sidon, she's actually willing to be proactive with him and not overly coddle him.
with mipha's whole thing as the understander i think she'd be able to catch onto revali's shit almost immediately and see through his facade. at the same time she's not the type of character to actively try and fix him, i actually think she'd express her understanding in a kind of cheeky, snarky way, 'match his energy' so to speak, because she knows that's something that would actually ruffle some feathers (heh) and get revali out of his comfort zone. for revali, on the other hand, i think it'd be a very disarming experience to be actually called on his bullshit by a peer who seems to actually get him and not buy his whole pompous asshole thing. i also think he'd kind of project his own feelings of being upstaged by Some Guy onto mipha, an actually competent princess who also has to step back just because she's from the wrong royal family. their kind of opposite personalities and perspectives are able to complement each other, coming together to a perfect equilibrium of 'yes there are things that are very unfair about this but there are reasons for the way things are and we kind of have to accept that'. it is kind of beneficial for both of them to hear about/engage with the others' perspective.
a quick aside bc i know a bunch of you are revalink fans: the dynamic of revali and link one sided rivalry meanwhile mipha is great friends with both of them is really funny, and also opens a door for revali to develop a better understanding of link and give him a chance. i don't go here i am a miphzel girlie however this is something to consider.
now: would they actually like each other? the answer for mipha is simple because like, i think she just kind of likes everyone. for revali it's a little more interesting and i think it's important to bring up the way he views zelda: he talks about it in his diary, but basically there is an element of him looking down on her there's also a distinct sense of pity ("It's not that I dislike the Princess. She tries her hardest. It's simply not good enough"). there are a few reasons for why there's a pity present where it is not for link, part of it is pretty much explicitly stated with how he views zelda as earnest meanwhile link as emotionless. i, being me, read botw as a very deliberately gendered story and will assert that in my reading, part of the reason why he has a distinct rivalry with link and does not with zelda is because link is also male.
part of it is because the roles of the hero and the princess are inherently gendered, and revali wants the role of the hero, the role he thinks is being taken away from him. he understands the role of the hero as the main fighter, which is what he wants to be, and he doesn't have the same interest in whatever role the princess plays in defeating ganon. part of it is the fact that revali is a teenage boy, and link is also a teenage boy. the way he provokes him and tries to enter an adversarial relationship with him reads to me as like, the kind of bickering you do with specifically a peer you view as a challenger, in this case the role they're both aiming for is the 'knight', in the case of link literally, and in the case of revali more symbolically, as the top archer and 'protector' of his village.
now this is where we veer off into the 'Making Shit Up' part of analyzing botw champions, namely there's a lot of interpretations one could come up with using the implications of this aspect of his character, to name a few: he potentially does still hold a kind of respect for the authority of royalty, namely princesses; he is a feminist; my personal favorite: he has some aspects of toxic masculinity making him pursue rivalry with other men, while not viewing women as rivals in the same way. either way, one think is clear: he doesn't react to princesses with the same antagonism he does to knights.
so, what we have here: he values 1. competence 2. sincerity 3. people who cannot rival him for his status or any status he wants. mipha checks all three.
furthermore, now that we have established that revali is a kind of 'knight', and mipha is a princess, and they both foil link and zelda respectively, they are, like link and zelda, a knight and princess pair, ergo their potential friendship is in itself a foil to link and zelda. with link and zelda, we have a very complacent, passive knight and a princess with a propensity for projection who is very vocally not happy with the situation. and with revali and mipha, we have a knight with a propensity for projection who is very vocally not happy with the situation and a very complacent, passive princess. the first pair's dynamic leads to conflict between the two of them, and who survive despite their incompetence. the second pair's dynamic, in my pitch, leads to closeness and friendship, and who die despite their competence. Are You Seeing This.
so yeah. i have mostly focused on their synergy and narrative foilage instead of the specifics of their potential dynamic, although i do have opinions on that too, however i have omitted those largely bc of what i have discussed in paragraph one. this is not a pitch for you to subscribe to my personal interpretations of these character's personalities, it is a pitch for you to make them interact. more.
TL;DR: the potential dynamic between revali and mipha is scrumptious because they're literally foils to each other and to link and zelda and we should all be exploring it more
#loz#botw#legend of zelda#breath of the wild#my hot takes#mipha#revali#link#zelda#meta#analysis#revalink
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just having a bit of a ramble dont mind me
#having a boyfriend who likes sports is wild and exciting to me#its been a year and its still like#oh? you want to put the tennis match on one monitor and the football game on the other while i watch baseball on my phone?#you want to wake up early to watch liverpool?#he asks me questions like about why luke weaver was so excited to get his first save on the yankees#and despite bemoaning it at first shows genuine interest in footy matches when theyre on#to the point of learning all of the players and already knowing we love darwin no matter what he does#and then to the point of agreeing to extend our trip to dublin in case liverpool made it to the europa final#and THEN to the point of asking if anyone else interesting was playing in the final after liverpool lost against atalanta#and further to the point of saying if i won a kit if he could have it#and even FURTHER to the point of sitting with me in a pub in dublin to watch the last liverpool match of the season#and then when we watch american football he explains different positions to me and like knows so much?#and same for hockey#and when he was asked to go to a hockey game in front of me all of 4 months into our relationship#he said 'i should ask liza if she wants to come because she'd be mad if she missed out on a game like that'#meanwhile the guy who asked him had his gf next to him and she was like 'can i go?' and he said 'if you want to'#like just the fact that my mans knows how stupidly important sports are to me and hes fully embraced it#and absolutely listens to me hurl absolute abuse at the television when my team lets me down#and not that i've ever vibed with the idea of subconsciously dating a guy who is like your dad#(i love my father dearly but many core facets of his personality drive me insane to no end plus i did that for many years and boy howdy. no#but the only other person to ever fully embrace and actively try to enjoy the sports i like is my dad#and its just such a loved feeling. i have never felt so so loved before.#like in a way thats not predicated on what i do or how i act its just like he loves me for me. everything else is a bonus.#i feel lighter. i feel like hes a gift. i have never experienced so much trouble in such a small amount of time while feeling so... ok??#like he isnt perfect at verbally comforting me all the time but he makes up for that by just being present and warm no matter what#i just could not be happier and feel more secure#sometimes i say 'i want to date you forever' and he hits me with '... and never get married?" and i have to fight to be vaguely normal#like oh lmao you like. you like me fr fr?? wild#anyways back to sports ignore me
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Here I request a damian x sunshine! fem! reader where reader is extremely passionate about art and everything magical. She loves translating whimsical visions into paint and flowery scenes too!!! Despite her extremely bubbly personality, her precious smile falters when people complement her works and she ends up stiff and avoiding eye-contact. Pair that with a tsundere Damian and I see sm fluff and cuteness><!!!! If u have the time ofc:D!!!... Otherwise, have a lovely day!! or night... x3!
I can absolutely make time. (I'll admit, I did have to look up tsundere because I'm not heavy into anime aside from a few shows, but I know now!)
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Damian Wayne would HATE a sunshine reader at first. The over the top, bubbly, smiling appearance annoyed him to no end.
School was beneath him and had been since he was in middle school. He thought he had grown to at least be able to tolerate it by the time he was a senior in highschool, so close to escaping it. Maybe his father would finally accept that he didn't need futile lessons when he already had an IQ higher than Einstein.
But then, in his very last year, he was thrown one last curve ball. A perky, energetic, irritatingly happy girl who somehow managed to be in every single one of his classes.
How anyone could be sitting with her done and her clothes pressed, thrilled to be alive at 7 am for Political Science, he didn't know. He certainly had no interest in it.
She always raised her hand to answer questions and always got them right, too. His only real interest was the art program he had right after lunch.
It was just his luck she was there too, sitting right next to him, humming while she spread her paints on the palette, mixing colors. It took at his willpower not to tell her to shut up. He figured she'd stop at some point.
The humming persisted until her brush actually hit the canvas, then, it was dead silent. He glanced over, confused by how she had miraculously shut up for basically the first time since 7 am. Her eyes were focused on the canvas, watching the paint smoothly spread over it. He looked over again and again throughout the class, noticing the way her forehead crinkled and her teeth sink into her bottom lip while concentrating.
He scowled, though, when the teacher complimented her painting, claiming it was "Bright, but had a hidden depth to be explored." Unlike his, which was. "Very dark and telling of his thoughts."
That annoyed him a bit, but not for long because it was replaced by confusion when she just shrugged meekly, avoiding the teacher's eyes. She did that a lot, he soon found after watching her a bit more instead of making a conscious decision to stop ignoring her entirely.
He saw her cheeks redden when the teachers said her answers were right or congratulated her on a text. He noticed her looking down at her desk when a classmate said something along the lines of asking for her help because she was doing really well in the subject. He saw her bury her head in her locker, pretending not to hear when guys asked her out.
Eventually, he was just too damn curious and after yet another football player got shot down, she took a breath, lifting her head out of her locker right before Damian slammed it shut with his hand.
He leaned against the locker beside it, his arms crossed, asking what was wrong with the guy for her to reject him. "Aside from the obvious lack of brain cells and the fact that he's on a one way track for steroid addiction and early balding, of course."
She snorted a laugh, covering her face as it reddened, before clearing her throat and replying. "Just wasn't interested."
"Who are you interested in, then?" He couldn't help but ask. "You've turned down the jocks, the nerds, the supposed bad boy who is a Mama's boy in disguise, and the suave poet who left notes in your locker. Not many cliques left. So, you're clearly not finding anyone who's your type. What js your type, anyway?"
Her lips quirks. "Are you stalking me, or something?"
No. Of course not. He had way better things to do. But...it wasn't like he wasn't bored out of his mind during school hours since he already knew everything in every class. So, maybe in a way, he was watching. Slightly.
"You're not interesting enough for me to bother," he retorted with no real bite. "You are a bit of an enigma though. I don't like those."
"Sorry. Not trying to be," she promised just shrugging. "But if you ever want to try to figure it out, go for it."
So, he does. He could easily run a background search, but that wasn't how he wanted to do it. No, he'd rather figure her out by himself.
During class, he paid special attention to her notes, taken with a pink pen, mostly covered in doodles of flowers and mountains, or a forest of some kind with a creek.
She, he admitted to himself, was quite good. Even better with paints during art class. He started asking questions, starting off easily.
"Why those colors?"
"Is there a memory attached?"
"Did you have a sketch to go off?"
Then, he started catching up with her at lunch, because it was the best time to really grill her.
"Why did you move to Gotham?" "
Where are you from?"
"No siblings, I'm sure, because you don't ever text or talk about one."
"You look allergic to carrots, since you keep picking them out of the salad during lunch. That or you just hate them. Which is it?"
He'd occasionally slip up though, without realizing, by starting a question with a compliment.—"Since you're good at art, I assume you've practiced since you were a child." The tips of her ears burned red and he frowned. "Why can you never take a compliment?" He asked.
"I can, I do," she defended.
"Yeah, but not well. You get all...weird about it." His voice was a bit less accusatory and more gentle.
She shrugged. "Just don't like them."
He couldn't understand that. Everyone liked compliments. It was the reason the world was polluted by attention seekers looking for praise.
"How come?" He pushed.
"Just don't," she insisted.
"Don't really feel like they're accurate." He hummed. "So, you have low self esteem despite your annoyingly perky attitude, then," he surmised.
Her eyes widened. "I do not!"
She definitely did, he knew then and there by her reaction. Her cheeks got redder, flushing to the point it looked like heavy blush and she stormed off, leaving her salad.
He ate the carrots, nodding to myself. He had finally figured her out.
But, for some reason, that wasn't enough.
He thought he'd be satisfied, but he wasn't. If anything, he felt a bit bad for pushing so hard when she clearly didn't like attention despite always being the center of it, just by being herself.
The next time they had art class, he complimented her painting, just to see her blush. It was really quite cute. So was she. Not that he could admit it.
He did it again and again until she was frustrated and he was amused, asking her to just admit it, which she finally did when they were alone in the classroom after it was let out.
"Fine!" She exclaimed. "Yes, I have low self esteem. I don't like compliments, they make me feel weird."
"That's called validation. You get it because you're good at things," he told her, his voice completely sincere despite trying to be sarcastic.
She held her arms, avoiding his eyes like she always did when she got a compliment. "Great, I'm competent. Doesn't mean people have to say."
Damian frowned a bit. "Humans are hardwired to say what we see. Just like we're designed to see what we say. But you don't do that part. You never see the reason behind all those compliments," he explained.
She scoffed lightly and it was perhaps the first time he'd ever seen so much attitude from her. "I see plenty. Students who want to walk all over me like a door mat because I'm nice and every guy just want to date me to say they've done me—" "
That is an incredibly crude thing to say about yourself," he interrupted. "Not to mention entirely untrue."
She rolled her eyes. Again with the attitude. It seemed she really was capable of it when she was fed up with something or he supposed someone. Him.
"Oh, please, spare me," she muttered sarcastically.
"I'm serious," he repeated. "That's untrue. Some guys, yeah, maybe even most. Definitely the dumbass football guy who is failing homemaking somehow. But plenty of men, who actually know how to be respectful, would appreciate you. And for more than your looks, as well."
"Oh, the sparkling personality, you mean? The one you think is a facade."
He had thought that. At first.
He sighed, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. "It's not a facade, but you have more layers than that." Her head tilted so he elaborated. "There's more than just the pink pens and highlighters, like the study method you use to scribble and write simultaneously for better retention rates. You're naturally bright, probably a B average if you didn't study, but you do."
"So?" She wondered.
"So," he parroted. "You make A's because you have a strong work ethic. Because you come from a family who prioritized it, maybe even to the point you were almost neglected from how often they were gone because you always seem fine going last, or getting whatever scraps you're handed inside of fighting for anything else."
She frowned, not at all liking to hear that. Not only because it was slightly true. Alright, definitely true. But also because it was something she worked to keep hidden.
"I thought you said I don't put up a facade?" She countered.
"You don't. You're happy, and bubbly, always looking on the bright side and that's not a ruse. It's who you are," he clarified. "But you can still get angry, frustrated, annoyed, especially when your character is called into question. Clearly."
She didn't know how to feel about the tone in his voice during that last part. "You can stop, now."
But he didn't. He didn't want to. He'd spent so long trying to figure her out and he was so sure he had done that he was his work to pay off, for her to admit he was right or at the very least hear what he had to say, even if she didn't want to say it was true.
"You're not vain about your looks, even though you could be without effort because you're easily the prettiest girl in this entire school."
Those words came out of nowhere, especially the last few. But he had said them and there was no taking them back, even if he wanted to.
It was silent for a while.
"You really are a stalker," she quipped quietly, looking to the floor.
He huffed in annoyance. "Take the damn compliment," he insisted, stepping closer to her, lifting her chin. "Look in my eyes, not away and just accept it."
He waited, to see if she'd push him away or let him compliment her. He swallowed, suddenly feeling the urge to go red as well, but refusing to allow himself to.
"Fine," she agreed in a whisper, locking eyes with him. That alone was clearly already hard, but she was trying. "You're not just the most beautiful girl at this stupid school," he muttered. "I think you could quite possibly be the most beautiful I've ever seen at all. Especially with that blush you seem to hate and hide."
Her cheeks got redder, her lips twitching to avoid any sign of emotion and it was clearly hard for her to look away, hating the level of attention. "It's not cute, it's utterly embarrass—"
"Don't try to refute it either," he interrupted, shaking his head calmly. "Just...just accept it. Please."
He said please. God, he hated doing that.
But it seemed to work and she gave a small nod, finally listening.
He nodded back, letting go of her jaw, stepping back and clearing his throat.
She stared for a bit, before grabbing the rest of her things and leaving him alone to blow out a long sigh, mentally cursing himself for that entire exchange. Perhaps even getting curious about her in the first place.
But then, a second later, she walked back in, the flush less prominent on her cheeks and ears. It was replaced by the look in her eyes, which seemed rather determined despite a bit of apprehension.
"You asked me, like six weeks ago, what my type was," she reminded him.
His eyes narrowed, recalling the conversation. The first time they ever actually had one. He meant it mostly as a quip or some dig. "Yeah, considering you've turned down like 3/4 of the boys in this school. Plus a few girls, for that matter."
She huffed a laugh, gripping the books in her arms closer to her chest and nodding. "Yeah, well, they weren't my type, you were right," she confirmed causing a bit of a smug expression to cross his face. "I didn't even really know I had one, but uh- I think I might."
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?" He questioned, adding another quip. "Let me guess, older guys. You've been giving the math teacher eyes all week."
She shook her head firmly. "No, definitely not," she told him. "I'm pretty sure my type is the weird, stalker boys who are actually really sweet."
#headcanon#x reader#dc comics#plethorawrites#damian wayne al ghul#damian wayne#damian wayne x reader#damian al ghul#older damian wayne#damian wayne x you#damian wayne imagine#damian wayne x female reader
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JUST ANOTHER OF YOUR MISTAKES
Thomas Shelby x Reader

Request made by @justsumtuffstuff: Could you do a tommy shelby imagine where you secretly have his kid but don’t tell him until one day aunt polly sees you and is like “holy shit” but that’s not the surprise, the surprise is you have twins. Just a lot of angst and fluff pretty please? ((:
This fic will have two parts!
Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, grieving, a lot of pain, eventual fluff, smut
A/N: It's a.. heavy fic, so beware. Interact for more
PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE
~~
The land of Birmingham seemed to never change, not one bit. Ever since the first people settled there, the sky hung over them as if by force, never clear enough to see prospects for the future. Robbing the poor kids of dreams, of the loud thumping in their hearts caused by excitement for the good that never came.
It would seem that God has lost his way to Birmingham, not to mention Small Heath. Dirt, smoke and silence that rang too loud when working men would finish their shifts in factories seeking peace in their homes. After all, the human brain can get used to everything.
What was the difference between going to sleep hungry every night, and the relentless churning in the depths of her stomach that Y/N felt? Pain that never let go, waking up along her side like a loyal husband, never ceasing to accompany her throughout the day. Never loosening the hold on her heart.
Oh, how cruel the fate can be, Y/N thought, looking at the white ceiling of her bedroom. One she slept in for many nights too long, carrying the weight of the curse on her shoulders.
Because she was cursed, that one she was sure. Seeing the man she loved more than anything else in the world, losing himself in the grief after another woman.
Because that was the woman whose name Y/N dared not speak or even think. That's who she was, another woman. Embodiment of pain and betrayal of so many promises, taking away the beautiful, blue gaze Y/N yearned for so badly.
God must have been so cruel, putting her through the uncertainty of ever seeing him again throughout the war, and then taking him away.
Taking him away from Y/N, and letting her watch the process. Letting her see the distance growing, the dilated pupils in his eyes after each doze of opium, fruitlessly trying to numb the pain he carried.
Y/N couldn't help but wake up everyday, wondering how different his grief would be if it was her who died. Would he cry? Would he push the other woman away, like he did her? Sometimes the pain felt like too much to handle, but Y/N would never try to pull the trigger. Subconsciously feeling the weight of shame in her chest if she'd ever somehow found out she was right. That he wouldn't care.
So she lived, losing pieces of her heart day by day, warming his bed whenever he saw it convenient.
Until that one day came, that was. Hearing the... Scary, oh so scary news from her doctor she visited in secret. Putting both of her hands on her still flat stomach, she didn't feel anything physically. Yet it was enough to find the strength, buried so deep in her heart.
The love she felt for her unborn children outweighed the love for him.
The tension in Arrow house felt heavier than usual, as Y/N dragged her heavy suitcase down the stairs before slowly making her way to his office. The pain, longing in her heart slowing her down, extending the seconds into forever.
Y/N took a deep breath as her hand pressed down on the metal handle, the loud click echoing throughout the mostly empty room. Wordlessly she slipped inside, walking up to his desk quietly, letting out a shaky breath when she stopped mere inches away from the wooden furniture. His eyes didn't move from the documents he was reading, an empty gaze fixed on black letters despite knowing she was there. Y/N waited for a second, giving him a chance to look at her. Hoping he would.
But he didn't.
”I'm leaving” she said, loud enough to be heard. Silence followed her words, loud like never before as her heart squeezed in anticipation, silently begging him to stop her. To say something. Several moments passed before he finally did, making her heart stop for a mere second.
”Safe travels, Y/N Y/L/N” He responded in a cold, husky voice and for a moment, Y/N wondered who he was, wearing his face but sounding so different.
But the dust settled, just like the weight of his words as soon as she closed the door behind her back for what she thought would be the last time.
~~
Polly's eyes cut through his skin like a blade, her gaze never changing after that one feral day. The look of contempt and disgrace not even a bit different than one she gave him finding out what happened, back then.
”I was hoping you wouldn't be so stupid” She hissed, leaning forward, reaching for a cigarette with a shaky hand. Her eyes were teary, as she inhaled the smoke. ”When you were younger I saw your mother in your eyes. Now, they're full of greed and foolishness. Just like your father's” She spat out with contempt, raising from the chair. Quickly walking up to his own, she kneeled down for a moment, to meet his gaze.
One so empty, that gave her goosebumps.
”I will never forgive you, and... Neither will you.” She whispered. ”But you will have to live with the choice you made.”
Her words echoed loudly in his head several minutes after Polly left... And they never stopped ringing now, thirty eight months later. Thomas counted, every morning to be sure. After sobering up it was difficult to tell days apart. He rarely slept, fearful of the dreams he had at first.
He saw her, she was so close and yet no matter how fast Tommy ran, he couldn't reach her. Out of his reach no matter how hard he screamed or cried. Looking at him with the burning tears he caused.
It took him three months to sober up, give up on opium and... Feel. Thomas wasn't ready for the hellish pain that dawned on him once the drug wore off. The terrifying longing that dawned on him when he felt the remnants of her perfume on his pillow. The lack of relief he hoped for so badly, throwing away every single Grace's belonging he held onto previously, burning the photos and destroying the items, but it never came.
As time stretched, it became more intense. Thomas carried the pain and guilt wherever he went, finding the smallest bit of relief only in his office, searching for Y/N in every piece of England day by day.
Replaying the ways in which he treated her, internally setting himself on fire and forcing himself to feel every bit of it. Because that's what he deserved, to feel and carry the cross he created with his own hands.
Oh how beautiful the pain was, as he'd lean back in his armchair, closing his eyes and remembering her gaze. Her scent and her laugh, echoing so lively in his mind.
...but none of it worked, no matter how many people searched. How much money he spent on the search. Almost like she disappeared into thin air.
Day by day he was dying a little, bleeding through the wounds he so desperately prevented from healing every single time. Keeping the memory of her alive in his mind, not letting the hope die. Because it was all he had. Glimmer of hope. The leader of Peaky blinders became even worse than before. The pain shaped his mind in unknown ways, as the limitless cruelty became visible to anyone who dared to cross his path. Peaky Blinders were unmatched.
Nobody besides Thomas held onto the hope anymore. Knowing Y/N for so long, John and Artur knew she wouldn't come back. Not if her life depended on it. Polly only prayed for her safety.
...and Y/N? She stopped praying once her children were born. After finding out she'd have twins, she prayed every night for them to be born healthy. It was all that mattered.
Not the fact that she had to be using a fake name after moving to Coventry, mere miles away from Birmingham. But she couldn't afford to move further.
It's been.. so fucking hard. Everything. Y/N spent every night crying, begging any God that would listen to take away the pain in her heart. The pain that her babies only managed to lessen. Working as a waitress on nightshifts after accepting the kindness of her older neighbour. Mrs Wilson offered to take care of her boys while she works to help her make ends meet. Y/N had no idea what she would do without a woman she grew to call her only family.
”It's no problem, honey. They're little angels” She said quietly with a kind smile, taking one of the boys into her arms mere days after they were born.
The pain Y/N felt by having to leave her kids every night was stronger than the physical one. Having to work a demanding job after giving birth to keep the roof over their heads.
She cried, cried so much that eventually tears ran out and all she could do was.. keep trying. The two little people by her side were giving her strength. Light that she couldn't see before them, and only existed because they were here. Keeping her own heart beating.
***
”Are you sure? I can take care of them while you go, honey. You know how much I love them, don't you?” The older lady offered eagerly, caressing Nick's cheek with a smile, and a hint of concern while she glanced at Y/N.
”Thank you, but I will take them. The least I can do is spend time with them throughout the day.” Y/N responded, smiling sadly to her neighbour who just nodded along, understanding the allusion.
Letting out a sigh, she put her hands together.
”Be careful, dear.”
Y/N squeezed her hand lightly before pulling away as she held her son's hand, while carrying the other one on her hip.
”Always”
Travelling via train took no longer than forty minutes, and with each passing mile, Y/N's anxiety grew. She hasn't been in Birmingham for a long time now, not looking back.
Yet, because of her official address being still in the Arrow house, she needed to visit the office to complete documentation for boys. She put it off as long as she could, but it was inevitable now.
Despite the negative emotions, Y/N couldn't felt.. better, having her babies with her. The familiar facial expressions or blue orbs were enough to sometimes bring her to tears, but she couldn't love them more. They were a perfect little copy of the man whose name was engraved on her heart. The older they were, the more similar looking they were and now at dashing two and a half years, both boys were troublemakers.
Slowly making their way through Birmingham, Y/N held one little hand, chatting away with Nick, who was more energised than his brother who slept soundly in his mum's arms.
”...and dat?” He asked, pointing towards the building and glancing curiously at his mama. Y/N smiled at his curiosity, seeing how similar personality wise he was to her.
”that's a house” She replied calmly. The little boy cheered loudly, throwing his arms in the air.
"Yaay! Hooose!” He squealed making her chuckle, not caring about the scolding glances from other passengers.
A couple minutes later the other little one woke up, and started fussing because obviously he also wanted to walk now, while Nick wanted to be carried now. Sighing, Y/N put one of the kids down, and as she managed to pick up little Nick, she gasped loudly seeing her son's legs already in motion as he ran towards the crowd.
”Tommy! Thomas, stop!” She yelled after him, chasing him with Nick on her hip who watched the whole thing with his blue eyes wide open. ”Tommy!” She yelled once again, and he finally turned around, stumbling upon someone.
Y/N closed the distance as fast as she could, grabbing little Tommy and pulling him back to his feet, as she checked for any bruises – found none.
”I'm so sorry, i–” She started out, wanting to apologise to the random passenger, but words died on her tongue as soon as her eyes locked with the familiar brown ones.
”Y/N?” Polly stumbled out in shock.
Fuck
Part two upcoming
#cillian murphy#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy x reader#tommy shelby#tommy shelby dark#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby smut#thomas shelby dark#thomas shelby smut#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby#peaky fucking blinders#peaky blinders#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinder imagine#john shelby#arthur shelby
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truth part 2 | rc
pairing: bsf!rafe x reader
summary: rafe finds out about sofia’s betrayal, and tries to come back and apologize for his previous words
part 1
warnings: swearing, angst, unhappy ending lol
wc: 1.8k
a/n: thank you SO MUCH to everyone that showed love on the first part😭 i appreciate it so so so much!! i kept this one pretty angsty because i think we all wanted to see rafe not be forgiven! so it is open ended for a part 3 👀 if you guys wanna see it! lots of love 🫶🏻
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘
You were sitting on your wraparound balcony, book in your hand as you felt the sun warming your bare skin. It was another beautiful day out, and you wanted to take advantage. Your sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose as your eyes scanned the novel in front of you.
You were taken out of a trance when you heard a commotion going on nearby. It sounded like it was coming from the Cameron house, which sat next to yours. Sofia had been staying in it, so you've heard, despite Rafe being in Morocco. You placed your bookmark between the pages, setting it down before rising to your feet. You walked to the edge of the balcony, placing your hands on the railing to lean over it slightly.
You saw Sofia, walking outside with a suitcase dragging behind her. What was she doing? She went in and out a few times, each time returning with various different items that all must have belonged to her. You wanted to ask her what was going on, if it had anything to do with Rafe. You hadn't spoken to him since the fight you got into at his house, and he was gone now. In Morocco doing god knows what with the Pogues. You didn't care anymore.
A car pulled up in front of the intimidating large property, Sofia disappearing inside of it as it drove away. The house was empty now. The house you spent years walking over to, sleeping at, drinking at, now sat there vacant. Simple as that. Everyone gone. You reflected on how quickly things change, how easy it is for everything to fall apart so quickly. You had cried about your conversation with Rafe after it happened, but since that night you hadn't shed a tear. You loathed him for what he said to you, for blaming his own emotional damage on you. You had always supported him, been there for him even when he was a complete mess. Goes to show none of it mattered in the end, anyway. You didn't know when he would return, and you couldn't be bothered to try and find out.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘
Rafe busted through the front door of his house, being met with nothing but deafening silence. The air sat heavy around him. It was just...empty. Sofia had actually left. He knew he told her to, but he was hoping deep down that he had been wrong. Maybe she'd stay and tell him Groff was full of shit. Her absence was confirmation that you had been right all along. He accused you of lying, of jealousy, and now he was eating his words.
"Fuck!" he yelled, slamming his fist on the counter in front of him, dropping his head in his hands. Everything was ruined. His friendship with you, his relationship, the deal. Everything slipped through his fingers so quickly, he couldn't keep up.
He decided he needed to talk to you, to see you again. He didn't want to admit it, but he missed you. When he was in Morocco, all he could think of was you. He was too proud to admit that, though.
"Please be home," he muttered under his breath as he turned back around and out the front door.
He walked up to the entrance of your home, banging his fist on the door loudly. He continued repeatedly until you finally swung the door open.
Your eyes met his, fighting to hold back a gasp. You weren't sure you would ever see him again, and here he was. He looked anxious, his eyebrows furrowing and his gaze roaming all over the place. His fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly as he looked at the floor.
"You were right," he practically whispered, his stare remaining off of you.
"What was that?" you asked, cupping your hand to your ear. You heard him, you just wanted to hear him say it louder.
"I said you were right, okay? About Sofia," he admitted. "She took the money from Hollis and convinced me to take the deal. I kicked her out, we're done."
You had to admit the words were good to hear. You already knew you were right, but it felt good to hear him admit it. You were starting to wonder if the truth would ever come out, or if Sofia would just keep going on like everything was fine. Rafe almost never admitted when someone else was in the right. It wasn't that easy, though. He had a lot more to admit wrong than just not believing you. Sofia wasn't even the issue anymore.
"Great," you said sharply, starting to shut the door. He stuck his arm out, holding it open.
"I said you were right, y/n," he repeated. "I should have believed you."
"Good for you," you said dryly. "I told you not to come crying to me when she fucked you over. That remains true."
Rafe let out a long sigh, frustrated at how difficult you were being. In the past, a simple apology would make everything go back to normal. Clearly, that wasn't going to be how it goes this time. He knew you could be stubborn, and it drove him insane. His arm remained extended, stopping the door from shutting. He saw movement going on behind you, and craned his neck to get a better view.
"What's going on?" Topper asked, appearing behind you.
Topper had dropped by this morning to bring you breakfast. You hadn't asked him to. You think maybe he felt bad for you, pitied you. You were alone in a big house, your family gone. Rafe was gone. You didn't need his cheering up, though, you were perfectly happy on your own.
Being alone for so long allowed you to be comfortable and even content in your own presence. You liked the quiet mornings, the long walks, and never having to ask anyone for anything.
"You-," Rafe stuttered. "You're hanging out with Topper?"
"And?" you asked, your jaw set as you blankly stared at him.
"You don't even like Topper," he whispered harshly, leaning towards you.
"Says who?" you said. "You don't know me anymore, Rafe."
He scoffed and took a step back from the door. He took a deep breath before speaking, knowing that maybe he should think a little bit more before he speaks.
He wasn't wrong, you didn't like Topper. He was arrogant and honestly kind of a baby most of the time. He was always whining about Sarah, or John B and it was getting old. You had been spending too much time alone, though. You knew people were talking. People were always talking. Hanging out with Topper would put out a good word, and he'd tell people you're fine. Maybe then people would stop asking. There wasn't anything going on other than friendship, but you didn't mind the company here and there.
"Are you just trying to make me jealous?" Rafe asked, his eyes finally fully meeting yours, reaching you.
"Are you serious, Rafe? Again?" you asked. You took a step outside, pulling the door shut behind you. You didn't want him in your home, especially not with Topper there.
Topper probably thrived on the drama, probably couldn't wait to go run to the other kooks and tell them Rafe showed up at your door. That aside, you had to give him a piece of your mind at this point.
"I am serious, y/n!" he exclaimed.
"Rafe, when will it get through your brain that not every decision I make is about you?" you asked. "Are you seriously so selfish and self absorbed that you think every move I make has to do with you?"
Rafe's mouth stayed slightly agape, his feet pacing back and forth on your walkway. He ran his hands over his head, his jaw clenching. His brain was going a mile a minute, and he couldn't find the words anymore. He was overcome with emotions, unable to regulate them.
"Do you not remember what you said to me, Rafe?" you asked, your voice raising.
"I'm sorry, okay?" he said. "I was an asshole, and I should have believed you about Sofia. I shouldn't have said those things."
"What did you say again?" you asked, taking a step closer to him, your head held high. You would not back down this time. You wouldn't let him get away with it.
You tapped your chin with your index finger, looking upwards acting like you were trying to remember his words. "Oh yeah, that all I do is fuck with your head? That I want attention? That I use you for my benefit? That I'm a jealous liar? I almost forgot."
Rafe went to speak, but you cut him off again, immediately.
"Oh and I almost forgot," you sneered, sarcasm dropping from your voice. "That all your problems are because of me?"
"Y/n," he breathed, taking a visibly deep breath.
"Don't even say anything, Rafe," you said, putting your hand up to stop him from speaking. "If I ruin your life so much, and mess with your head, I don't need to be part of it. I'll live my life, and you live yours. You can do whatever you want, I don't care."
"I care, y/n!" Rafe exclaimed. "I didn't mean those things I-I was just angry. You know I can say stupid shit when I get mad."
"You can't just say awful things and take them back," you explained. "That's not how this works. You don't get to hurt me and then show up at my door thinking I'll forgive you because you 'didn't mean it'."
“Y/n, please,” Rafe begs, his eyes turning glossy. “You have to forgive me, I need you in my life.”
“Clearly you don’t, Rafe,” you sneered. “You told me otherwise, actually.”
“You can’t do this to me!” he said angrily, his emotions brewing and threatening to spill over. He hated when he yelled at you, but he was so frustrated. “Don’t do this.”
You couldn’t ignore the twist in your heart at the tears in his eyes. Usually you would fold, but you were determined this time. He hurt you, more than he ever had. You couldn’t let him off that easily. You were doing fine without him.
“I have to go,” you said, looking back to your house looming behind you. “Bye Rafe.”
“Please,” he repeated, his voice barely over a whisper. You closed the door, leaving him standing alone on your front lawn, exactly as he had done to you.
You still hadn’t decided if revenge was the best medicine, but it was the only way for him to listen. To truly listen. If he really cared about you, he would come back with a real apology, not excuses.
Rafe stood wide eyed, staring blankly in front of him. He bit his lip, the back of his throat burning as he tried to hold back tears. He hadn’t meant for things to happen this way.
You were all he had, the only person who really cared about him, and who he cared about. Now you were gone, and it was all his fault.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘
taglist: @evermorx89 @glenpowellswifee69 @xxbirkindoll2 (🫶🏻🫶🏻)
#rafe Cameron#rafe Cameron x reader#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#obx#obx imagine#outer banks#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fic
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SAY IT BACK ↪ letting them leave without an ily
finishing up some smaller things from my wip folder before i buckle down and work on the big stuff again. here's this doofy little fluff piece.
characters included: chris redfield, leon kennedy, jill valentine, ada wong
content: fluff. just fluff. established relationship. mildly ooc behavior for the sake of fluff (also known as being in a relationship and acting stupid)
You found it on TikTok - or maybe it was Instagram, or Facebook - doesn't matter. One of the media conglomerates had given you a horrible idea about how to tease your loving, devoted partner.
It's simple - when they said 'I love you' before they left for work, you just wouldn't say it back. What could go wrong?
Chris Redfield ↪
Did not notice. Secure. In his lane. Unbothered. Probably not moisturized. (Get him a nice oil, fragrance free. He'll like it more if you massage it into his muscles for him, spend a little extra time smoothing along the curve of his spine, up and over the tightness of his shoulders.)
If you're at the point with Chris where he's saying “I love you” in place of a goodbye, he doesn't need to hear you say it back. He's confident in your relationship. Hearing it is just a nice bonus.
You're going to get your own feelings hurt here. Sent yourself into a spiral. Like, damn, does he not listen? Does he not care? What the fuck is his deal?
Chris is legitimately confused when you bring it up to him later. Doesn't get the point of the whole thing. “Why wouldn't you just say you love me?” Head cocked to the side, so puppy-like you can practically see the velvety ears flopping over.
Really doesn't do the whole social media thing. Even when you show him videos as an example, he's just shrugging. "I'm pretty sure those are skits, honey. No one really reacts like that."
If only he knew. Hey - at least now you know that Chris is perfectly content in your relationship and won't let anything silly like this bother him. It's just a sign to ramp up the pranks - more practical jokes, less subtle, harmless emotional manipulation.
That's what you thought, at least, but when Chris flips the light off that night and sidles up behind you in bed, strong arms slipping around your middle and tugging you back to him, his voice rumbles in your ear - "You gonna tell me you love me, or is this gonna be a problem?"
And Chris is really good at extracting confessions. How badly do you actually want to get some sleep tonight?
Jill Valentine ↪
Doesn't seem to have noticed that you ignored her. Walked right out the door without missing a step, didn't even glance back. Her car pulls out of the garage, her sunglasses on - she seems entirely unbothered.
Oh, she’s bothered.
Jill Valentine is Not Petty™️. And she does not pout when her partner doesn't say ‘I love you’ back. She's in a pissy mood at work for a completely unrelated reason. She's not returning your texts because she's busy at work, not because she's trying (and failing) to give you a taste of your own medicine.
She definitely doesn't carry that storm cloud all the way home with her, doesn't rain on your parade when you cheerfully announce that dinner's ready and on the table.
You're trying everything you can think of to cheer her up. Asking about work got you a noncommittal shrug. You'd offered to draw a bath for her - or (preferably) for the both of you, but she'd dismissed the idea, talking about how it would take up too much time.
She didn't have the heart to shrug you off when you started massaging her shoulders. Despite your silence in the morning, you were clearly intent on taking care of her. Maybe nothing was wrong. Maybe you just hadn't heard her.
Her palm presses against your cheek, turns you to face her. She searches your eyes for a moment, her gaze unreadable. "Thanks for dinner. I love you."
Nothing. Fucking nothing. "You're welcome."
Jill knows that look on your face, that shit-eating grin that you're trying to cover up by glancing down, by pretending to be flustered. Her hands grip your hips. She manhandles you into her lap, chair scraping against the floor to make room for the both of you.
"Okay - spill. What's up with you?"
Once you explain, she's not mad about the whole thing, not really. But you can't help but notice that she's been withholding kisses lately, and-- wait.
Fuck. Now she's turned the tables on you.
Leon Kennedy ↪
Keeps finding new and inventive ways to double back inside the house. He's not going to outright ask you what's up - that would make him look desperate, which he’s totally not. He’s definitely not concerned at all that you didn’t complete your morning ritual and send him out the door with an ‘I love you’. He’s a big boy - this isn’t high school, this is his very mature, very adult relationship.
Excuse number one: “Sorry, forgot my keys,” as he makes a show of dropping his keys out of his pocket, onto the living room floor. His eyes are on you when he reaches to grab them. Leon tosses them in his hand, making as much noise as he possibly can. “All right, love you.”
You hold strong. Still no ‘love you’ back. He’s gone for all of 60 seconds when he comes back with excuse number two: “Ah, damn, forgot my badge. I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached.”
His badge is attached to his belt. You can literally see it. When you point that out to him, he makes a show of being relieved, goes so far as to press a kiss to your temple, and says, “God, what would I do without you? Love ya. Have a good day.”
But you hold strong. Until excuse number three:
“Babe, have you seen my gun?”
You laugh, which only makes him laugh - and then he hits you with ‘no, seriously’ while he leans against the doorway, hip cocked. He’s got you figured out by now, knows that if he can make you laugh then you’re not doing this because you’re mad at him or anything. He can't even be mad when you explain it to him. He can only warn you:
"I'm gonna get you for this. Now, c'mon - say it."
Ada Wong ↪
I don't know why you would do this to her to be honest. She just said ‘I love you’. You should be marking your calendar and turning this into a holiday.
She doesn't say it often, at least not while you're conscious. Whether she presses her sentiments into your hair while you sleep against her, drooling against her collar bone, is up for debate. You have no hard evidence and she'll deny the allegations.
It simultaneously is and is not a big deal. She didn't say it because she craved the validation of having you repeat it to her. She said it because she meant it. There's so few concrete truths about herself that she can share with you, but that was one of them. Does it sting a little not to have it returned? Maybe.
She turns the moment over and over in her head, letting it haunt her. You had given her time, she thinks, why can't she give you yours? But your silence is a specter that tinges every moment. It creeps at the edges of every thought, it–
“Hey, you forgot your coffee.”
She turns to see you in the door of your apartment, hanging from the frame with one hand, her cup extended to her in the other. She clicks back to you in her stilettos, and your press a kiss to her cheek when she claims her drink. The guilt of it all ate at you before you could let her leave your sight. “Love you. Be safe.”
She'd spiraled before she even got down to the parking lot. Total loser in love.
#leon kennedy x reader#chris redfield x reader#jill valentine x reader#ada wong x reader#resident evil x reader#resident evil fluff#resident evil headcanons#leon s kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#chris redfield x you#jill valentine x you#leon kennedy#jill valentine#chris redfield#ada wong#leon kennedy fluff
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NFWMB - part 1

Summary: “Harry is a retired boxer who owns a gym and teaches self-defense classes. He considers himself a strong man, but when a gorgeous innocent woman attends a try-out class, she manages to leave him weak in the knees…”
Wc: 4.3k
Tropes: boxer!Harry x innocent!reader
Warnings: mentions of violence and SA
A/N: hello everyone! This is my new series NFWMB, named after one of Hozier’s most horny songs😄. I am so incredibly excited for this series omg it’s gonna be so good!!! If you don’t believe me, go listen to NFWMB and you’ll get a vague idea of what’s coming ;)
P.S. header = pov change
General Masterlist
Series Masterlist
Harry Styles was not one for regrets.
His life may not have turned the way he expected it to, but he was still proud of where he had come.
Being a professional boxer was a risky job, and Harry had known that when he had decided that it was going to be his career. But there was no other logical option. Harry was an exceptional boxer who was able to go pro at age 18, where he defeated a lot of men who were older and bigger than him.
It was his passion, it always had been. Which was something that was quite remarkable, especially to his closer family members, because Harry was anything but a violent person in his day to day life. He was quite reserved, and managed his temper very well. The years in the boxing ring did harden him quite a bit, his reserved nature developing into something more akin to stoicism.
Nevertheless, Harry loved boxing. It wasn't so much a fight to him, but more of a puzzle. Each opponent had its own made up riddle, and it was up to Harry to solve it as quick as possible. Much like a dance you learn the steps to along the way. A perfect combination of intuitive technique.
He hadn't planned on having to retire at the age of 27 already. It was supposed to be his peak; it had been for almost all boxers in history, and he was looking forward to how far he would be able to push his body during his prime.
He never got the opportunity to get an answer to those questions. A car accident got in the way.
He wouldn't have been able to stop it, he knew that, and he had forbidden himself from thinking about what could've happened had he not taken that specific road back home that horrible night. There was nothing he could do about it now, so there was no point in dwelling on it.
After a year of recovery, he was slowly able to get back into the rhythm of his old life again. Well, except for the boxing part. Knowing that his career in that field was over, he began thinking about some other options of his, and decided on fulfilling another dream of his: opening a gym.
He had always wanted to do it, but he always imagined to be retired by the time he would start on that.
Now, two years later, his gym was already in multiple locations, but Harry was still working at the first one he opened. He would visit the other ones every once in a while to see how everything was going, but he was mainly at the one nearest to his house. It was special to him, the place where it all started.
Despite running the place, and therefore not needing to be on location all the time, Harry was at the gym 24/7. He wasn't a personal trainer—wasn't really his style—but he would help people and teach self defense classes to women.
Every Thursday between 6 and 9, he would teach groups of ten women everything they needed to know on defending themselves from whatever threat they may run into. It was one of the things he was proudest of; the turn out at those classes. That these women put their trust in him, and let him help them become even tougher than they already were.
Tonight, after teaching the last group, Harry had gone to the bar with some of his friends. One of them was Sophie, a woman he had become friends with since she'd joined his self defense class. She was a great person with an impeccable sense of humor, and Harry was glad he had introduced her to Greg, his best friend. They were basically made for each other.
Harry had to admit that he envied his friend for the relationship he had. He was happy for them, but sometimes couldn't help but think that his lack of a partner was this one puzzle piece that would make his life even better. All in good time, he reminded himself.
"Hey," Sophie caught Harry's attention when she waved her hand in front of his face. His gaze shot to hers, eyebrows raised. "So, I was talking about your self defense class today at work. You know, promoting your business and all."
Harry chuckled at the cocky tone in which Sophie told her story, chin up high. He mumble a soft 'thanks', to which she grinned.
"You're welcome. Anyways, I have this new colleague and she seemed so intrigued by it, but she was too insecure about joining. I mean— she didn't outright say that, but I could just tell." She huffed, Greg rubbing her back. Sophie was a very happy person in general and wanted the best for everyone, this new colleague of hers included. Harry had the same habit, it's why he immediately suggested:
"Why don't you invite her along next week? A free try-out."
"But your try-out classes aren't for another two weeks." Sophie noted.
It was true. The self defense classes had become very popular, and since Harry taught them himself, he had scheduled one night of try-out classes a month. He was only able to take on so many people, but he didn't mind making this exception.
"She can join your regular class." Harry shrugged, and Sophie's eyes beamed with excitement.
"Thank you Harry!" She squealed happily, giving Greg a hug to channel her enthusiasm. "Oh, I hope she'll come along!"
"I'm sure she will." Harry assured her with a smile, and took another sip from his beer.

Y/N had never been one for risks.
She had never been the type of person to take the leap of faith, relying more on familiar feeling of security. Why risk hurting yourself when you could be safe and content?
It was the logic she had always operated with, the logic she had been taught from a very young age. Y/N had had a sheltered upbringing. Her parents wanted her and her little brother to be as safe as possible, and that was just fine to Y/N.
Her little brother was the more feisty one of the two, and his childhood consisted of a lot of fighting. It hurt Y/N to see the people she loved so much be so angry all the time, and it only motivated her to be as good as possible. She never drank, smoked, or went to parties. She turned in her homework early and got an A on almost every test. It did put a strain on her relationship with her brother, especially since Y/N's behavior would be used as ammunition towards him.
They still didn't talk all too much, but Y/N hoped that one day, she could repair that relationship again.
Moving a few towns away was a big deal for her parents, but the wonderful job she had gotten as a secretary at quite a prestigious law firm had made it all worth it. They helped her with moving into her apartment, but Y/N would regularly visit them on both weekdays and on the weekends. All in all, she'd had a safe, comfortable, content life.
Until a few months ago.
It was a Friday night, and Y/N had agreed to a date. One of the lawyers at the firm, Oscar, had been flirting with her ever since she started working there. Not wanting to be impolite, Y/N never outright rejected him, and so the flirting continued. She was a bit uncomfortable about it — especially since he was nearing his forties and she was only 23 — but figured the banter was part of the job. She was so shocked when he did ask her to go on a date, she said yes.
It wouldn't be too bad, she figured. She would just go on the date and tell him she wasn't interested afterwards. It could be casual, and no one would be too hurt. The date was definitely out of her carefully moderated comfort zone, but she would step out of it for one night.
The date was fine. Like she had expected, she wasn't interested in Oscar in a romantic way. Still, she listened to his stories, laughed right on cue at all his jokes, and told some of her own anecdotes as well. The dinner was great, and he even offered to walk her home.
They were nearing Y/N's apartment when Oscar had suddenly slowed down his walking pace. She only noticed when she was a few feet away from him, and walked back to where Oscar was standing.
"Are you okay? We're almost there, I promise." Y/N smiled politely, much like she did in the office. Oscar didn't say anything in response, only the corners of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly.
"You're so beautiful, do you know that?" He complimented her, and Y/N looked at her feet, not quite knowing how to handle the flattery.
"Thank you." She said softly, and froze when Oscar's fingers tilted her chin upwards. Her eyes widened when he suddenly leaned in and put his mouth on hers. After the first few seconds of pure shock slowly passed, Y/N pulled her head back.
Not getting the hint, Oscar grinned and leaned in again, this time with both his hands on her face. Y/N let out a yelp, stumbling backwards. Her body's alarm bells were ringing so loudly, but Oscar must've been deaf to her body language because he backed her up against the wall and kept kissing her.
Y/N cried out as she tried to push Oscar off with her hands, but he only grabbed them and pinned them above her head. Finally, not knowing what else to do, she lifted her knee and kicked him right in the crotch. Oscar shot backwards, groaning loudly as his grip finally loosened on her. He looked incredibly angry.
"What the fuck?!" He bellowed, standing up straight again. Y/N's lip quivered, tears running down her face.
"You wouldn't stop." She said softly, almost in a whisper. Her entire body was shaking from the adrenaline. Oscar's mouth opened to say something, but the conversation got interrupted.
"Oscar!" A woman's voice shouted from down the street. He turned his head, and his face morphed from sheer rage into a lovely smile, the same one he always put up for Y/N back in the office.
"Sophie!" He said, but the mention of her name sounded strained. Sophie... Y/N recognized her name, but she hadn't ever met the woman. She was one of the three female lawyers at the firm. Had been working there for only five years, but her reputation was so badass, everyone knew who she was.
"What are you doing out tonight?" Sophie asked as she gave Oscar a hug, and turned to Y/N. "Who's this?"
"This is Y/N." Oscar replied. "She's a secretary at the firm."
"Nice to meet you." Y/N extended her hand, and Sophie shook it.
"Nice to meet you too! How come I've never seen you around?" She tilted her head.
"I— I work on a different floor."
"Well, I'm glad I met you, Y/N!" She said, the kindness in her tone being a real comfort after that scary moment she just had to live through. Somewhere in the way she said it, and in the way her eyes softened slightly, it almost felt like Sophie knew.
"I— I should go. It's getting pretty late." Y/N decided that this could be her sweet escape.
"Right, I'm gonna bring Y/N home." Oscar said, and your eyes shot to him. Anxiety filled your lungs until all you could breathe was fear. You didn't want to be alone with him. You had no idea what he would be able to do to you. What were you going to do about it? You weren't even half as strong as he was.
"Oh, which way is it?" Sophie asked, turning to Y/N, who was about to open her mouth but got interrupted by Oscar.
"That way." He pointed toward the direction of Y/N's house. Sophie side eyed her colleague, then nodded.
"Exactly the way I was going! Let's go." She hooked her arm into Y/N's, and began walking, ranting about how it was unacceptable that they didn't work on the same floor.
Y/N wordlessly nodded along, filled with gratefulness to Sophie or the universe—or both—for not leaving her alone with Oscar again.
She got home safely about five minutes later, not daring to look Oscar in the eyes as she hugged him and said goodbye, and she only allowed her tears to fall down her cheek when she closed her front door.
Y/N spent the rest of the weekend in bed, not in the mood to do anything. By Monday, she felt both better and worse. She had had some time to come down from the shock of what happened, but the terror that filled her at the realization that she was to see Oscar again, had her stomach turn. On Monday morning, she even got into work late as a result of a wave of nausea that hit her once she'd grabbed her keys, spending the time she used to drive to work to puke her guts out instead.
Later, she'd found out that Oscar had called in sick that day. It gave her some time and space to breathe. Sophie visited her the same day, and she hadn't stopped visiting since.
Oscar did eventually return to work, but they never talked anymore. Y/N didn't dare to look him in the eye, and she avoided him at all costs. One day, about two weeks after everything happened, she did see him waiting by her cubicle, but she hid in the toilet for half an hour and by the time she returned he was gone.
It had been two months since that horrible event, and Y/N had entirely isolated herself. Back to the normal routine, back to what was familiar. It gave her a sense of control. She was fragile, and sensitive. She had just pressed down her sadness and anxiety that lingered as a result from the date, and instead focused entirely on what she could control.
She figured it would be easier. Well, except for the mental breakdowns she'd get when something small didn't go right. The dishes not being cleaned, her vacuum not taking up every speck of dust; it just set her off. It wasn't healthy, but she had no idea how else to deal with these things.
When Sophie mentioned she was following self-defense classes a couple weeks ago, Y/N's ears had perked up. She tried to be subtle about it; asking questions to pry some information about the classes from her. But, being the amazing lawyer she was, it didn't go over Sophie's head, and before she knew it she had an invite to a class.

"See you next week!" Harry exclaimed as the last of the women from the 7pm class left the room. He was still busy putting everything back into place before the next class which would commence in about five minutes.
He was just about done with everything when Sophie walked in, another girl walking in close behind her. Harry couldn't really make up her face, as she stayed closely behind Sophie, even upon nearing him.
Sophie looked proud, probably feeling very accomplished about the fact that she had been able to convince this colleague of hers to take her up on her offer.
"Hey!" She greeted Harry cheerfully, giving him a quick hug. He was still smiling when he turned to the woman standing next to Sophie. His mouth went a bit dry when he took in her face.
"Harry, this is Y/N."
For starters, she was a bit shorter than Sophie, and quite frail too. Her hair was up in a ponytail, leaving her features to be admired out in the open. Her eyes were soft—radiating mostly insecurity at the moment—and wide. Those Bambi eyes and plump, rosy lips...
She looked so... innocent?
He wasn't sure if it was the right word, but he was sure that he had to say something before the silence became too long.
"Hi Y/N." He repeated her name, seeing the slightest flicker of surprise run through the eyes of the woman in front of him. But the slight relaxation of her body told him that his usual trick was working. It was a typical 'strategy' that he would often use with people who were a bit unsure about him. His voice would soften, he would always wear a hint of a smile on his face, and he'd repeat people's names to create a bit more of a familiar environment. It always worked, and he was glad it did. He never wanted anyone, especially a woman, to feel uncomfortable around him.
"Hi." The corners of her mouth tugged up.
Angel.
That's all he could think of as he looked at her. Jesus Christ, she was beautiful.
"Thank you for joining the class. You don't have to join in on everything if you don't feel comfortable. Just observe and see if this is something you would like to practice more often, okay?"
The girl in front of him nodded intently the second he had finished talking. Her eyes widened ever so slightly before she peeped out an, "okay."
Harry grinned, his gaze shooting to Sophie—who was looking at him with this suspicious look on her face that she only got once in a while—before calling everyone in a circle and commencing the class.
This girl, Y/N, turned out to be a real distraction for him. He was so focused on trying to read how she was feeling that he trailed off during explanations a couple times. It was embarrassing, really. He was a grown man for God's sake, why couldn't he just concentrate?
Y/N only joined in for a couple of the basic movements, but she stayed back for most of the class. Her big eyes observed every movement Harry and the others made, impressed with how developed everyone seemed to be in their techniques. He noted that it only seemed to make her more timid, though.
His eyebrows kept knitting every time he looked at her, getting lost in his thoughts on how he could help her become more comfortable in his class. She'd caught his stare about halfway through the class, and at the way her eyes shot to the floor he realized that his gaze was actually doing the completed opposite of what he wanted to do, which was help her.
When the class ended, Harry gave his usual speech about how good everyone had done their job, and that he would see them all next week. Afterwards there would always be a couple of women hanging around to ask questions, and he would stop a few on their way out to compliment their improvements. When the rest of the women had left, Sophie walked up to Harry, Y/N following closely behind.
"Great class, Styles. Thanks for teaching me some ass kicking again." She teased, smiling at him before she took a sip from her water bottle. Harry chuckled, shaking his head faintly.
"Glad you liked it." He turned to Y/N. "What about you?"
Her cheeks started heating up, mouth falling open ever so slightly. "M— me? Oh, uhm, yeah, pretty good."
"I'm going to use the bathroom really quick, I'll be right back." Sophie chimed in, and began walking towards the door. "Keep her company for me, will ya Styles?"
Harry almost laughed at how Y/N's eyes nearly popped out of her sockets at Sophie's announcement. She was nervous around him, and it was quite endearing, but she didn't need to be. Although it was very cute, Harry wanted her to be comfortable around her.
"You hated it, didn't you?" He said as soon as Sophie was out of sight. Harry was amused, watching Y/N scramble for words when she realized what he had said.
"What? No, no of course not! You're great! Teacher— you're a great teacher, I mean." She stumbled over every last one of her words, making it sound even less convincing than it already was, even though she did really mean it.
Harry solely raised his eyebrow, indicating that he did not buy any of that, and it was all it took for her shoulders to slump and a little sigh to leave those pretty lips of hers.
"It's really not you, I promise. I just get... a bit nervous in group settings, especially when it comes to sports. I don't even go to the gym." She confessed, and Harry nodded. That certainly made more sense. His heart warmed a bit at the fact that she reassured him that he wasn't the reason she wasn't liking the class all too much.
"Why don't you go to the gym?" Harry asked further, his tone soft. He didn't want to press too much, but he did want to know more about her.
"It's... embarrassing." She shrugged. Harry chuckled.
"I go to the gym all the time. I mean, I own this one. I can only imagine how embarrassing I must be." He joked. He had to say he thought it was pretty funny, the way she blushed as he teased her.
"No, I didn't mean it like that! You're not embarrassing at all— I mean, you’re like the opposite. You're lean, and strong. You have like— big arms and you know what you're doing." She ranted, and had no idea how much Harry's ego was fueled by the compliments she was unknowingly throwing at him. "Whereas I— I have no idea what to do at a gym. I hate the idea of people being able to watch me and judge me if they want. Not that I think everyone's focusing on me all the time! I— I don't think that..."
Y/N's heart was racing as she finally got herself to stop talking. It was a nervous habit she had always possessed. As soon as something got awkward, her mouth would open and it would just never shut again. All communication skills flew out the window as soon as something — or in this case someone — made her nervous. She couldn't even remember half the words she just said.
"I can teach you, if you want."
The offer was as unexpected to Y/N as it was to Harry. He hadn't quite anticipated the words rolling off his tongue, but he didn't regret them either.
"It'll be a private class, and it can be in a closed room, like this one, or after closing time. Whatever suits you." Harry tried his hardest to sound casual, and not like what he was offering was something he literally never did. He had to hire a cleaner at home because he was too busy to get around to cleaning the house, that's how much he had to do. But the prospect of losing even more free time did not seem to bother him at all. In fact, he hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer as he scanned her face and waited for her to say something.
"No, I wouldn't want to ask that of you. I'm sure you're busy with a lot of other things." She declined politely, but he didn't miss the glimmer of hope in her eyes. Those private classes had sounded intriguing to her, he just knew it. So instead of accepting her rejection, he shrugged.
"How about this. I'm always in till late on Tuesday's. If you're sure you don't want private lessons, that's fine. But if it does sound like something you want to do, just be there at 9. I'll be there either way." Harry suggested. He didn't wait for a response — hearing Sophie's footsteps nearing — and instead said,
"Just think about it, alright?"
Y/N merely nodded, not even able to croak out a 'yes' before Sophie walked back into the room.
"Okay, I'm ready to go. Y/N?" Sophie asked, watching as her friend agreed and grabbed her things before walking towards the door where Sophie stood.
"Thanks for the class." Y/N turned around and smiled at Harry, throwing him a small wave as she started following Sophie out the door.
"Anytime." He winked at her.
"Bye Styles!" Sophie shouted, her keys clinking as she waved at Harry, behind her.
"Bye Soph." Harry called out, his eyes still transfixed on the girl behind his friend.
He didn't take her eyes off her as they walked towards the exit, taking in every detail of her delicate body as she moved further and further away from him. She was painstakingly beautiful. How had she just walked in? As soon as the girls disappeared behind the door, Harry let out a big sigh.
"Fuck." He murmured under his breath.
He really hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer. Harry had very quickly and very suddenly developed this intense need to help the girl, and that couldn't mean anything good.
Maybe he'd never see her again. She did sound very unsure. Besides, who said that she even wanted to go to this class? For all Harry knew, Sophie could've just used her manipulative convincing tricks, and Y/N, the polite angel she was, would've felt too bad to decline. Maybe, she thought he was an ass and didn't want anything to do with him.
In spite of the countless theories flying through his head, he knew that she wanted it. He had seen it in her eyes. She did really want to join the class, she was simply too nervous. But whether she would take him up on the offer, that was the question. He'd have to wait until the following week.
Strangely enough, he couldn't wait until it was Tuesday. He couldn't wait to find out…
#harry styles#fanfic#writing#fanfiction#blurb#harry#one direction#smut#one shot#excerpt#harry styles fic#harry fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry edward styles#harry styles fanfic#harry styles one shot#harryedwardstyles#harry styles angst#harry styles fan fic#harry styles smut#harry styles x fem!reader
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THE MIGHTY HAS FALLEN (BUT YOU'LL RISE AGAIN, LOVE) ( max verstappen. )



max verstappen x reader
after a tough race cut short, max pushes away any person around him, but not her. never her. she always picks up the pieces to put him back together.
authors note: I love max. I know he's not the self-deprecating typa guy, but in this, he is, OKAY. charles is after this <333
HE WAS A BOMB. the fuse getting shorter and shorter every minute that his patience was tested. everything around him seemed to irritate him more and more as he tried to keep himself from exploding, for pr's sake.
he just wanted to avoid the media all together, for obvious reasons, but he was contractually obligated to give his words to the journalists under the media tent. putting him under a microscope and asking questions that had an undertone of scrutiny in hopes of catching him break. he was close, but he wouldn’t.
it hadn’t even been a fault of his own, he rarely made those anymore. the car had caught fire, but not due to a mistake he had made, and even if it had been, he wouldn't have admitted it anyways. still he felt the guilt of his lack of performance, beating himself up after every question asked about his car and what had happened.
it was just stupid. the questions were stupid. the car was stupid. this whole race was stupid.
the pressure to perform, even in the best car on the grid, was high. despite his seat being secured for plenty of years to come, he still had expectations to meet and records to break.
it was obvious to everyone that max was hard on himself every time he didn't perform his best, his girlfriend especially noticing when she’d find him in his very luxurious driver's room sulking at even the slightest of a mistake made by him.
it didn't happen often, but when it did, she'd been there for him. he knew that.
he wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and never be seen again because world champions don't make stupid mistakes.
even if this hadn't been a mistake he made, he should've known. even if there was no possible way he could’ve, he should've.
he was raised to believe that he was only deserving if he had been first, that he was destined to fail after every second place or worse finish.
so it wasn't surprising when he thought he didn't deserve her. in comparison, or more like his eyes, she was simply perfect.
and she understood him, which not many people could because he wouldn't let anyone pick apart his brain like she did.
he locked his thoughts and feelings in the dark that shrouded his mind from early childhood trauma. he promised he would never let anyone see.
but he was never great at keeping such promises because it hadn't taken much for her to pick the lock to his brain. even though he wasn't ready to spill every detail of his upbringing to her, he trusted her.
and he didn't get to do that all too often.
the media had been brutal—he knew they would be—and yet it still crushed his mentality and faith in himself.
with his race suit around his waist despite having time to change beforehand, he walked through the paddock in shame at the early retirement.
it wasn't like this determined the outcome of his career because the next race, he'd be back on top. he didn't feel so sure of it though because all his thoughts were on this failure. what if he failed the next race?
what if he failed the whole season? what if he fails her?
unlikely, the people know, but he had so much confidence which had so easily crumbled when it got a little too hot. he wasn't sure of himself anymore.
anyone could see the turmoil bubbling underneath his skin, harsh waves crashing in the ocean of his blue eyes as he pushed past anyone and everyone.
the walk through the paddock was short, considering the red bull motorhome was the first of ten. max hastily entered through the automatic doors, skipping steps as he was eager to hide out in his driver's room.
he felt the eyes of the staff follow him down the hall until he disappeared quickly around the corner. he didn't want to be seen by anyone.
the door to his driver's room closed as fast as it was opened, but much louder. she heard the slam of the door echo down the hallway.
she didn't flinch, she just calmly greeted staff with smiles and left a bag of sweets on the table for them. she always brought something for the team, to celebrate every victory and despite this not being one, they still deserved it for working hard.
since she had gotten there not too long after him, she lingered around the lobby. she didn't want to be waiting around for him to show up and have him brush her off because he wasn't in the right headspace.
he would never mean to dismiss her, and she knew to give him at least a little time to himself to think and process things. she couldn't give him too much time though because she didn't want his self-deprecating thoughts to eat away at his confidence.
from what she analyzed from the staff and their demeanor, he'd probably caught them off guard when he slammed his door.
she wouldn't apologize for his behavior because she would make him do it when he cooled down.
so she hung around and made small talk with the sparse staff around to allow max a few minutes to himself before excusing herself down the hall.
she had a bomb to defuse after all.
the clack of her heels on the hard floors bounced off the walls, but she walked quietly enough so max didn't hear her coming. he knew she would though. he knew she would find him with his head in his hands, barely covered in sweat because he didn't race for more than three laps.
his face was still flush with disappointment though. he didn't want her to see him like this even though she was with him during his last disappointing race, but even though his singaporean grand prix finish wasn't great, at least he hadn't been out of the race.
max hadn't DNF’d in two years because he was simply just that good, and he still is. he just didn't feel like it.
his hands pressed so hard against his eyes, the blood vessels in them would have popped if he pushed any harder. he had taken off his red bull hat, he felt he didn't deserve the number one right now. it was thrown lazily onto the makeshift bed in his driver's room.
the room was practically silent, every so often interrupted by a deep sigh of disappointment that escaped his lips. he had sat there for a good couple or minutes, sulking.
when she reached his door, she held the bouquet of flowers she always got for him close to her body with one arm while she raised the other to knock. her hand only slightly hesitated before her fist made contact with the door and a few seconds later, she tried entering. it was locked, which was usual whenever he was brooding.
at first, when max heard the knock, he thought of all the people last on his list that he would want to see right now, but on the bottom of the list was the person he wanted to avoid the most right now.
his dad.
their relationship was rocky. he never supported max at any place unless it was on the very top of the podium, and even then max thought he looked unpleasant.
“go away,” was all max could mutter through his hands as his heart started to pick up the pace.
she sighed, shaking her head with a smile pulling at her lips, “max.” it was all she needed to say.
part of him didn't want to let her in, he didn't want her to see him like this, but he knew she was just as stubborn as him, if not more. he knew she would stand there all day if he didn't open the door to let her in.
and he would always let her in.
she heard the low creak of the sofa she could imagine him sitting on, but not his footsteps while he made his way to the door. she only knew he heard her when the lock clicked and the door slowly opened inwards to reveal the red-faced max verstappen.
she stood staring at him, her head tilted as she studied his face. he didn't move, he just watched her eyes dart around his appearance, and he felt himself getting hot under his fireproofs.
“are you going to let me in, verstappen?” she teased, a sly smile on her lips as she watched her boyfriend roll his eyes.
he scoffed, stepping aside, “don't call me that.”
“what?” she acted innocent, stepping into his driver's room with the fresh flowers, seeing the already prepped vase, “don't call you by your name?”
“you know what I mean.” though he tried to keep a straight face and act like he was still mad, he couldn't keep a smile from creeping onto his lips. she just had that effect.
she heard the door close and lock again as she took the wrapping off and placed the flowers in the vase. she shrugged at his words, her back still towards him, but she knew he had sat back down.
“you didn't have to get those,” he mumbled, “didn't win.”
she sighed, crumbling the wrapping in her hand and throwing it away before walking to where he sat. she stood in front of him as he looked up at her.
even with heels, he was still much taller than her and even though he was sitting, he reached barely below her chin.
she spread her arms to offer a hug to him, which he gratefully took, his arms snaking around the low of her hips. pressed against her chest, her arms wrapped around his head, running her fingers through his hair.
she felt him sigh against her skin, his eyes closing as they stayed like that for minutes without speaking. she felt him caress the bare skin of her thigh with his thumb.
when they finally pulled apart, his hands still laid firmly on her hips, his hair disheveled from the hug. she ran her hands through it to fix it and he only watched as she did so.
when she finally finished after only ten seconds because guy hair is a lot less complicated than women’s hair, he finally spoke up, “why are you dressed so uncomfortably?”
she was slightly taken aback, seeing as he was just moping about his race not even ten minutes ago and now commenting on her appearance. he only assumed she was uncomfortable, but unfortunately his assumption was correct.
“what do you mean?” she looked down at her attire, which isn't so different from the other wags that she hung out with.
his hand snuck around the back of her thigh and pulled up her leg, “I thought I told you to stop wearing heels, you always complain about them.”
“i’m fine,” she said, about to cross her arms, but her balance said otherwise so she settled them on his shoulders for support.
he gave her an incredulous look because every time she wore heels, without fail, she would complain less than an hour into wherever they were that she wanted to sit.
“okay, i admit i can't wait to get these things off,” she let out a deep breath, putting a hand on her hip, “but I'm supposed to be taking care of you.”
she said in his response to take the heels off her feet for her, a simple gesture really, but this was about him.
“do you want to talk about it?” she massaged his shoulders as he threw her heels to the other side of the small sofa.
“nothing to talk about,” he shrugged, “maybe I don't deserve being first.”
she pushed his head to look up at her, shaking her head, “you just don't realize how much you deserve, max. you're a world champion, a three-time one,” she reassured him, “you've won countless races, and you still have the entire season ahead of you. I know you want to, but you can't let one bad race define your season.”
“I know, you're right.” he bit the inside of his cheek as he thought deeply, “but I have to prove myself.”
“you've already done that plenty of times,” she shook his shoulders in emphasis, “besides you'll still lead the championship, unless charles gets p1, but you'll get it right back if that's the case.”
she was right. she always was, he never doubted her. he would never doubt her because she would never lie to him. she always backed up her answers by building up his ego and confidence back up so he was ready to fight it out on the track next race.
whether it took a couple of minutes or hours to bring his mood back up, she'd take her time in making him feel like the champion he was again.
she would take his phone from him, he didn't need to see the articles being written or the missing phone calls from his dad.
all he needed was her and she would always be there.
—
taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @kaa212 @nhlfs
proofread by @foreveralbon <333
#formula 1#formula 1 drivers#formula one#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fic#mv1#mv33#mv1 x reader#mv1 imagine#mv1 fic#mv1 x you#mv1 x y/n#mv1 angst#max verstappen angst#max verstappen fluff
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a list of stark family moments and details i treasure 🫶
jon telling gilly she has a pretty name when they meet because sansa told him once that he should always tell a lady they have a pretty name upon being introduced (jon iii, acok)
robb sitting up with bran after he goes to bed, trying to cheer his little brother up after his fall by telling him how their mother will be home soon and after they'll do a surprise visit to jon in castle black
and bran realizing robb has started crying as he says this, and so taking on the role of comforter and reaching out to hold his big brother's hand as they sit in the dark (bran iv, agot)
robb being unable to resist correcting catelyn for leaving jon out when she says there were 'five wolves for five stark children' despite trying not to argue with her (catelyn ii, asos)
this acting as an echo of when they found the wolves and it initially appeared there were only five, and jon, arguing they should keep the pups to make bran happy, told ned it was a sign that there were five direwolves for five stark kids. even at 7-years-old, bran understands jon is leaving himself out of the count to make it match and loves his brother "with all his heart at that moment." (bran i, agot)
"he was no true stark, had never been one... but he could die like one. let them say that eddard stark fathered four sons, not three." - jon, as he attempts to leave the night's watch to join robb (jon ix, agot)
"mother. you forget my father had four sons. jon's more a stark than some lordlings from the vale who've never set eyes on winterfell." robb, as he legitimizes jon as a stark, names him his heir, and goes to release him from the night's watch (catelyn v, asos)
jon being so overjoyed when bran wakes up from his coma that he cries, hugs tyrion and runs around castle black telling random guards his brother is going to live (jon iii, agot)
arya and bran teaming up to ambush sansa with a dozen snowballs each and sansa retaliating by chasing arya throughout the castle until she tripped. arya stopping to make sure she wasn't hurt and throwing another snowball at her face when she isn't. sansa pulling arya to to the ground and covering her in snow while they both laugh the whole time.
sansa making a snow model of winterfell after reliving this memory because there's no point in snowballs without someone to throw them at. (sansa vii, asos)
everything about the story of jon and robb's ghost prank in the crypts. robb making sure they have one (1) candle about to flicker out. jon being covered in flour makes him a ghost. bran holding arya's hand and hiding behind robb. sansa just fucking taking off. arya's strategy being to punch a ghost into submission. jon and robb laughing so hard bran and arya can't even stay mad and start laughing too. the fact the entire reason it comes up is it's a memory that makes arya smile and feel brave. (arya iv, agot)
rickon being too young to understand why jon isn't sitting with them like he normally does when the king is visiting and holding up the procession when he sees jon sitting somewhere else. (jon i, agot) he keeps asking why jon isn't sitting with them throughout the feast. (bran iii, acok)
jon telling catelyn he doesn't care if she calls the guards on him, she can't stop him saying goodbye to bran.
robb being able to tell something is off with jon after this takes place, and gently asking if his mother said something and jon lying in response to smooth the situation out. (jon ii, agot)
bran wondering if direwolves miss their brothers and sisters too. (bran i, acok)
jon and robb climbing the towers at winterfell to practice shouting at one another after ned told them it's doesn't matter how brilliant a man is if his men can't hear his commands during a battle. (jon vii, asos)
arya thinking if she could see sansa again she'd kiss her and beg her pardons like a proper lady to make her happy. (arya vii, acok)
sansa, believing her younger brothers to be dead, thinks of how she'll name her sons eddard, bran, and rickon. she pictures them all looking like her "late" brothers and sometimes dreams they'll have a girl who looks like arya too. (sansa ii, asos)
when jon imagines leaving the night's watch, he thinks wistfully of having a son named robb. he also fantasizes gilly's son and mance's son would grow up as pseudo-twin brothers like him and robb (jon xii, asos)
the boys would all share a bed to stay warm whenever it got cold. i love to picture this after they got the direwolves so the humans and wolves are all in one big puppy pile. (jon vi, acok) jon also says he would lay up at night while his brothers slept next to him and make his plans to join the night's watch (jon i, agot), so in this mental picture i have all the other boys are dead asleep, while jon super seriously explains his plans to ghost at 3am.
whenever she's on the verge of reuniting with other family members, arya worries they won't want her anymore because of what she's had to do to survive. but when she thinks of reuniting with jon, she thinks "jon will want me. even if no one else does." (arya xii, asos)
bran, sansa, and arya all saying they have to be as brave or as strong as robb when they're hyping themselves up. (bran iv, asos; sansa iv, asos; arya ii, agot) jon dreaming of being "as good and true a son as robb." (jon x, asos) he's literally the golden standard for all his siblings.
robb's ghost showing up in both jon and arya's dreams, with neither one recognizing him (jon viii, asos; cat of the canals, affc)
bran being jealous of jon for thinking of the name ghost first for his direwolf because it sounds so cool while being so disdainful of rickon deciding to call his shaggydog. (bran ii, agot)
jon continuing to hope bran and rickon's consciousnesses live on in their direwolves when he believes them dead. (jon i, adwd; jon viii, asos)
bran wanting to be a wolf so he could find arya and sansa and protect robb in battle so they could all return to winterfell. (bran i, acok)
jon remembering how bran would always follow him and robb everywhere and try join in on whatever they were doing. (jon iii, agot)
rickon following robb everywhere and physically clinging to robb after their other siblings and parents are gone. robb arguing with catelyn over how scared and abandoned rickon feels with her gone. (catelyn iii, agot)
after bran wakes, rickon cries if robb's away more than half a day and asks bran when robb is coming back (bran iv, agot). when robb goes south, rickon melts down so much that he won't eat - he just screams and cries all day and attacks adults who try to comfort him. (bran vi, agot)
jon imagining both his sisters' reactions to seeing the beautiful morning frost at craster's. he pictures sansa crying from how magical it looks and arya running to touch everything he can. (jon iii, acok)
robb and jon's bickering devolving into a race where robb is laughing and hooting and jon is super serious and intent on winning, in a way that implies this is the norm for them. (bran i, agot)
not just summer, but shaggy and grey wind also howl in mourning when bran's in his coma. robb opens the window in bran's room so bran can "hear them sing." (catelyn iii, agot)
when bran hears the wolves howling again he worries it means somethings happened to one of his siblings. (bran i, acok)
jon and arya are so in tune they'd regularly speak in unison. (jon ii, agot; arya i, asos; arya i, acok; jon iii, agot)
jon and robb building a "great mountain" of snow to dump on whoever walks under the gate, even getting mance fucking rayder to be their accomplice, and then getting chased around the yard by their poor victim fat tom until their faces are "red as autumn apples." (jon i, asos)
rickon immediately asking if robb's coming home upon seeing a letter from him and upon being told no tells maester luwin to write robb back and tell him to come home and bring grey wolf and their parents back too. (bran v, acok)
the fact rickon specifically mentions he should bring grey wind back too, because we saw him playing with grey wind, summer, and shaggydog when his siblings were all gone or busy. they were basically his only friends for a time. (bran iv, agot)
when tyrion leaves to head back to winterfell, jon tells him that rickon will ask when he's coming back and to try explain it to him, and also adds to tell him he can have all his stuff while he's gone, which is just such cute little sibling thing, but also shows how even then jon thinks of the night's watch as being away; winterfell is still his home that he'll come back to one day.
he also tells tyrion to tell robb that he can melt down his sword and take up needlework because jon's going to command the night's watch and keep him safe. and of course, his pleas for tyrion to find a way to help bran are what lead tyrion to give bran his new saddle. (jon iii, agot)
despite his mistrust of tyrion and the lannisters, robb offers to let tyrion stay at winterfell after he sees how much his gift means to bran. (bran iv, agot)
robb no longer believing the direwolves were sent by the old gods after bran and rickon were believed dead, because what was the point of a gift from the gods if it didn't keep his brothers safe? (catelyn ii, asos)
bran going to the godswood to pray that robb doesn't have to leave and then adding if he does to have to leave to make it so he comes home with their sisters and parents and that rickon will understand what's happening. (bran vi, agot)
when jon and sansa remember robb after his death they both picture him with snowflakes melting in his hair, the way he was when they left winterfell. (jon xiii, adwd; sansa viii, asos)
when seeing sam off, the last thing jon says is for sam to put his hood up because the snow's melting in his hair, and sam notes the strange smile on his face when he says it. (samwell i, affc)
bran arguing lord hornwood's son out of wedlock should be named his heir, thinking of jon. (bran ii, acok)
robb being so upset when catelyn compares jon to theon that grey wind hops onto the crypt and bares his teeth at her. (catelyn v, asos)
jon wondering if ever really had any right to call arya his sister, saying he was as out of place as theon at winterfell. (jon iii, asos)
just... the contrast of jon thinking about sansa, and how since she became old enough to understand what a bastard is she's only ever referred to him as her "half-brother", but he misses her anyways... and sansa missing jon while living as alayne, calling him the only brother that remains to her and thinking "i'm a bastard too now, just like him." (jon iii, agot; alayne ii, affc)
robb also calling jon the only brother who remains to him. arya calling jon the only brother she has left. (catelyn v, asos; arya xii, asos)
rickon crying and refusing to leave bran until he's physically forced off. (bran vii, acok)
every word of this sentence shatters me: "every morning they had trained together, since they were big enough to walk; snow and stark, spinning and slashing about the wards of winterfell, shouting and laughing, sometimes crying when there was no one else to see." (jon xii, asos)
ok now the angsty part


like! jon is having this flashback because he feels guilty and conflicted over stannis's offer to legitimize him and name him heir to winterfell, never knowing that's exactly what robb wanted.

(jon xii, asos)

(catelyn v, asos)
he keeps remembering robb calling him a bastard as a mental chastisement for daring to put himself on their level, but one of robb's very last acts on earth was to name him jon stark!! bran wanted lord hornwood's illegitimate son to be allowed to succeed him because of jon!! jon doesn't think he counts as arya's brother. but he's the one she misses the most, the only one whose unconditional love she never doubts!! jon!!!

(jon xi, asos)
and yet! despite all the shame and guilt, the thing that ultimately stops him from accepting stannis's offer is his belief that the old gods sent the stark siblings their direwolves, and he can't betray his family's gods! that's what makes his decision, above all else!

(jon xii, asos)
#apologies to ned cat and benjen etc. but if i included parents and uncles this would have gotten absurdly long#anyways! the stark siblings are very dear to me and i love them so#🩶🤍🩶🤍#kaitlin.txt#asoiaf#starklings
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A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 6 - Seven Of Cups
summary : your detention doesn't happen like you'd have thought it would, and power goes out at the dormitories, leading you to odd exchanges with viktor
content warnings : fighting at the beginning of the chap but nothing much, other than that none (if you find anything to add here do tell).
word count : 7,6k
author's note : these bitches can't stop bantering okay, and i can't make them stop so yea
proofread by the lovely @yaffles-world
masterlist : here ..discord : here ..playlist : here
taglist : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal
You landed a blow to the throat of the girl facing you, who backed away as she regained some air and you were able to regain your composure as the screams grew louder all around you. All the way down your oesophagus, from your stomach to the back of your throat, the acid of your empty stomach burned all sanity.
Hunger could have made you do anything, the fire within making you nauseous as you tried not to wobble on your legs. You could have eaten the sandy soil on the floor of the pit if someone had told you that it would nourish you a little, or ease your ravenous hunger.
Your opponent was older than you, taller, heavier, and less gnawed by famine. The stands were screaming at you, one to get back on her feet, the other to strike until her skull burst. You could feel the rain of their spit on your skin as your opponent came back at you.
You tried to avoid her punches, retreating into the arena, trying to gain time by tiring her out. But she slapped you so hard that you fell to the ground. You tried to crawl back away from her as the crowd swelled in roars. You turned your head towards her for one last breath before she struck you a hard blow in the cheek.
The shock woke you from your dream.
You breathed in, wiping away the single tear from your cheek that had left a stain on your pillow. The gesture made you hiss, bringing your hand up to your swollen cheek, still aching. Ah, that's right, your little attempt at justice in the corridors yesterday came back to mind.
You huffed and puffed, turning over on your back in bed and letting your gaze drift to the ceiling, trying not to shake as you breathed softly.
Another nightmare, these days were not going to be easy.
You placed your hand on your belly, trying to control your breathing in the hopes of calming yourself slowly.
Why can't the past just die ?
Because I'm not dead yet, you think. Only in death, maybe, could you say goodbye to all of this.
You shook your head, you had too much to fight for, enough to defeat death, enough to push her back to your doorstep and chase her from your house no matter how hard she'd knock on the door of your mind.
To heal your wounds you had to stop touching them. You knew that, you knew that your little fight in the hallway had brought it back, that your constant fight against yourself and Viktor was pushing it all back to the front of your mind.
But what were you supposed to do? Let him be ridiculed like that, martyred by a student who wasn't there by any merit and only through the influence of a patron?
Since when had Viktor's respect been something you considered? You were supposed to hate him, not develop an obsession about hating him.
"Almost sounds like you're obsessed with me."
You hated the fact that, despite your best efforts to talk yourself out of it, he wasn't wrong. You turned, groaning in your bed. How could you agree with him?
You thought back to what Selene had said to you once, ‘there are 3 reasons why people hate you: they see you as a threat, the people who hate you hate themselves, or they want to be like you.’
Did you want to be like Viktor? No, you certainly didn't, did you? The other two arguments were of course on your list, but was the last one really on it?
Yes, you probably wanted to be like him: to be first in everything, with a gift for conversation, to be almost perfect in everything he did...
You picked up your pillow, pulling it back over your head and letting the weight of it muffle your groan.
Obviously, you weren't going to get back to sleep, all those obsessive thoughts preventing any other idea from entering your mind. So you got up and went about your day.
You worked bitterly this weekend, not looking forward to your detention.
You wondered if your guardian knew, if the gossip had started to spread throughout the school and had finally infiltrated the teachers' room. What image would that give you? One of someone trying to teach a lesson to an insolent person attacking an innocent, or a bully who would never overcome the stereotype of her origins no matter how hard she worked?
You'd seen Viktor come into the café with Jayce, but they were both just passing through and had a takeaway. You couldn't help but notice two things about them. Firstly, the two of them were up to something, either about an assignment they perhaps had to do in another subject, or about a personal project that Jayce had never had to tell you about.
And secondly, Viktor couldn't stop looking at you.
His amber eyes were deeply piercing, looking right through you, searching for something, the key to an equation that would solve everything. But he couldn't find anything, at least not until you'd tell him about the missing piece yourself.
You weren't ready to give it to him. Not him, and probably not anyone else either. You always averted your gaze from his whenever you met him, but you felt it on you, lingering.
Monday came earlier than you would have liked, and when the day was over, you dragged your feet towards Madame Agrane's classroom. She was waiting there, arms folded, a stern expression on her face.
You gave her back a cold expression, devoid of any empathy. Your nature had disgusted her enough for you to find yourself in such a situation, thus it was for her nature that you returned her gaze so cold and steely.
You took your place in the room, taking out some of the homework you were planning to do, particularly the presentation you were supposed to do with -
"Am I late ?"
Your head went from your notes to the door in a flash, as Viktor himself was standing in the doorway.
"Late for what ?" asked Agrane, confused.
Viktor stepped through the doorway, walking in your direction. "Detention."
Your eyes widened, your lips parting in surprise. What was he doing?
"You don't have det-" Agrane laughed nervously before Viktor interrupted.
"Yes, I do." He turned to her as he sat down just to your right, sending her a distinct look, one you'd given him during your work session for the Heimerdinger subjectc: silence.
She fell quiet, breathing out a little annoyed gasp before settling her half moon glasses back on her nose and jotting something down on one of her papers.
Viktor started to take out his things, and you shouted at him in a whisper:
"What are you doing?"
He placed his notebook on the table and turned to you. "Currently ? I'm with you in detention."
"I know what-" you breathed at his irony, looking him in the eye this time, "what are you doing here ?"
"I'm doing detention-"
"Viktor," the word stopped him in his tracks, "you know that's not what I'm asking."
He stood speechless for a moment, and you realised that it was the first time you'd ever called him by his name to his face. You hadn't even called him by his name until now, no doubt because the word was bitter on your tongue, and he seemed just as surprised as you that, against all odds, his name from your lips wasn't full of spite.
He blinked repeatedly, turning to his page and pretending to search for his notes as he cleared his throat. "I thought it was unfair that you were the only one getting detention when you tried helping me for my own harshness."
You couldn't believe your eyes, your eyebrows jumping to your hairline in surprise. Viktor, of all people you would have preferred to have by your side at this very moment, had come to keep you company, and of his own free will.
It was almost sadistic, the torture he was inflicting on you. He was perfectly aware by now of your worries, or at least of the worries his presence was causing you. So why was he here?
The thought occurred to you that, eventually, Viktor might have respected you.
No... that was probably absurd. He was only here out of pity, or perhaps as a sign of student solidarity to get a message across. You could already hear the gossip: ‘Didn't you see? Viktor voluntarily went to detention as a sign of solidarity with the bully who broke the nose of the pupil who tripped him. How gallant!’
Would you have come if the roles had been reversed? If he had done you justice, taking the detention hour instead of you? Would you have shown honour despite what was at stake for you? You wouldn't have received any nice rumours about yourself, people would probably have said ‘she doesn't even want to be second to get detention, she always has to chase after him to try and shine in his shadow!’
You stopped looking at him, pretending to read your notes and rearrange them.
"You didn't need to do that." you tell him, your voice on the level of a whisper.
"And you didn't need to help me." he replies, turning a page.
"It was unfair, he deserved a good punch."
He turned to you, resting his chin on his palm, "So you getting detention for helping me is not unfair ?"
He had a point. It was a compelling and convincing argument, and for that very reason, you chose to ignore it. You didn't even exchange a glance with him, feeling the arrogance of the ‘I'm right and you know it’ weighing in his eyes.
"Don't you have anything better to do than being here ? Deaf kids to read to ? Students to beat with your cane ?"
"True that with my patron's help I could get through all of these fun times."
Madame Agrane gave you a reprimanding shush, telling you that your low masses would have to be kept to a minimum during this hour of detention.
You sighed, lowering your head to return to your notes, tapping the eraser of your pencil on your paper. You caught yourself glancing at Viktor a few times, despite your will, but inevitably returned to your paper as you tried to write down what you knew for the presentation.
Then, Viktor placed a sheet of paper near your side of the table. You watched him for a moment, the latter wearing his usual nonchalance as he read a passage from a textbook, his fingers following the lines.
You lowered your eyes to the page, which would have been almost blank if Viktor hadn't written at the top of the page in his own graceful handwriting:
"A simple thank you you could've done it."
You scoffed, seriously? Was he still going to be petty about it? He had got himself into this situation after all. So you wrote in reply:
"Me ? Thanking you ? That's a largeness of spirit I don't have."
You passed him the sheet of paper again with your written answer, and, as he read it, as if imitating you, he laughed back. You didn't think it was funny at all.
So he wrote on the sheet in turn, and you found yourself waiting for his reply, waiting almost impatiently for him to finish whatever he was writing. You wondered if he was taking his time on purpose, savouring the act of writing to you and keeping you waiting, keeping you itching for the outcome between his long, slender fingers.
He handed you the paper again, you pretending to be indifferent to it as you feigned interest in your notes before taking it.
"Are you still thinking about me? Is that why you're so unfocused?"
You stopped yourself from humming because you didn't want to grumble at his insolence. What a little... well, in a certain case and from a certain angle, he wasn't wrong, but that didn't mean you were going to prove him right any time soon.
So you almost aggressively took up your pen to answer him in three simple words:
"In your dreams."
If only your dreams could be so tranquil... although you feared that one day Viktor would end up in your dreams. He haunted you enough on a daily basis, and if he came to chase you even in your dreams, that would probably mark the end of you.
He received the note, read it, smiled to himself and began to write back. You didn't know what you would prefer at the time, to at least refocus a little on your homework, or to continue this little round of exchanging notes that was taking you both back to high school.
You didn't even have time to get his next note while he was writing it because, almost with a bang, the door flew open. Before the astonished eyes of Viktor, Madame Agrane and yourself, a deeply angry Selene entered the room. She swept her eyes around the room, eyebrows furrowed over the dark, mystical shadow covering her eyelids, then came to rest on Agrane.
"What's all this about?" she asked, her tone stern.
Agrane seemed to want to make herself very small in her chair. No doubt she knew Selene and the links she had with the councillors. Which, in this case, placed her in a position to receive unwanted news should she have indulged in things Selene disagreed about.
"A simple detention for two students at fault, madam." she replied in a tiny voice.
"At fault?!" her dark shawl hemmed around her like a night wave as she crossed her arms, "and what fault have they committed?"
Agrane was about to answer, parting her lips, but Selene cut her off with a wave of her hand.
"I don't want to ask you," she turned to Viktor and you, still surprised, "I want to listen to them."
So she walked towards you.
"Them?" almost choked Agrane.
"Do you have hearing problems as well as judgement, madam?" she said, deeply exasperated as she turned to you and mumbled, "Who still gives detention in an academy."
You straightened up, giving Viktor a look as he recognised the astronomy teacher, but didn't seem to particularly understand why she herself had come to visit you, and especially in such an emotional state.
"Madame Agrane, I'm sure that-"
"If you think this dear lady is a liar, I want to see for myself." She was turned towards you, her eyes rimmed with a bluish night-shade, not letting you go. "I know when she's lying."
You huffed, exchanging a look with her. There was no need to make a scene of it, you thought, who knows what image it would give you? To be chaperoned when you'd beaten your academic success brick by brick?
"What happened." Selene asked, in a calm tone.
There was no need to lie to her, or to lighten the conversation with understatements. Selene, in this kind of situation, wanted to get straight to the point.
“We were coming back from the library,” you began, ”a student tripped my classmate-”
“What's your name, young man?” she questioned, turning to your nemesis.
“Viktor,” he cleared his throat, still surprised by the situation, ”Viktor Moravec.”
“Viktor huh?” she turned, raising her eyebrows at you and pointing him with one of her long fingernails before resting her eyes on him, ”you're the Viktor?”
Shit.
Viktor had, on every evening you spent in Selene's company - rare though they were - been an inescapable point of conversation. You couldn't help grumbling about him. Sélène being the only person around you who didn't know him from your hours of gossip wouldn't therefore be able to tell you ‘I don't see why you don't like Viktor.’ like all the others would.
And now she was meeting him.
Viktor nodded, and Selene smiled.
“I've heard quite a lot about you actu-”
“I knocked down the student who tripped him,” you resumed, hoping Selene wouldn't scatter her words and reveal more than was necessary. “He punched me, and I broke his nose.”
Selene's smile had vanished from her face. Her eyes then drifted to your cheek.
You'd managed to find a concealer in the back of your drawers. Selene had given it to you a few years ago for an event you'd accompanied her to. It was covering enough to hide much of the hematoma on your cheek, but its dark color managed to stand out slightly through the cosmetic.
“And why are you in detention, and not the other student?”
Agrane rose from her chair, embarrassed surely. “Madame Sélène, this is all a misunderstanding. These two students are from Zaun-”
“And so?” questioned Sélène towards her, ”do they deserve less to be here?”
Agrane pouted, lowering her gaze.
“Look me in the eye and dare to tell me for even a moment that students from Zaun have less merit to study here when they're the ones who fight the hardest to even graze the walls of the academy.”
Agrane's eyes were fixed on the floor, at a loss for words.
Selene turned back to you. “You're no longer in detention, go home.”
You just stayed there for a moment, biting the inside of your cheek that had been hit. The pain pierced you, but you didn't let it show. You weren't particularly fond of the idea of having found yourself in this situation, and you didn't like the fact that you'd hidden your injury and your situation from Selene either.
She didn't seem too happy about it either, but no doubt for reasons quite different from your own.
You gathered up your belongings, placing them in your satchel almost mechanically, Viktor seeming to do the same, although still startled.
You stood up, following Sélène out of the room. Once in the corridor, however, when Viktor wasn't far behind you, she pressed on.
“In my office, young lady. Immediately.”
You sighed, not much good would come of this conversation.
You didn't turn around, Viktor's gaze weighing on you and the weight of his future requests for explanations following you like your shadow.
You followed Selene, her heels clicking on the glossy floors of the academy. Hadn't you had enough trouble with teachers for one month? Heimerdinger, then Agrane, then her, the list seemed to go on without your good will.
She opened her office door, letting you in before slamming it shut.
“So,” she began, ”when were you going to tell me about all this?”
“I had no time to-”
“Even right after this happened?” she stopped you. “When else would you have told me, eh? Would you have kept it to yourself and hidden it under concealer until the blue faded?”
“I would have shared it with you tomorrow.” you retorted, pinching the bridge of your nose, ”I've had enough complications this week.”
“Since when has that stopped you from coming to see me and staying the night?” she resumed. “Do you think I'm not worried about you?”
You weren't angry with her; she only wanted what was best for you. You couldn't imagine her reaction when the teacher gossip started in the staff room. She was your guardian, and you getting beaten up in the corridors didn't reflect very well on what she should have done for you. Without her, you wouldn't be here.
And you were ashamed of your behavior. You had tried in vain to bring justice to the corridors, to reframe an impertinent man who wanted to play the tough guy by attacking someone weaker than him. You'd left behind a life of violence, and you didn't want to return to it. Yes, you were ashamed that Selene, who had educated and helped you, had to learn that the girl she had taken under her wing had come to blows.
You wanted to make her proud, and you felt you were failing.
You huffed and puffed, suddenly finding the floor an interesting piece of scenery.
Sélène's office was cosy. The velvet armchairs caught the warmth of the sun streaming into the room through the bay window taking up the entire wall opposite the entrance. A desk with dark, smoothed wood, a freshly cleaned chalkboard with new chalk, and a shelf where she kept her various teas played their part in the furniture of the office.
“I'm sorry I didn't come to you sooner,” you admitted, ”I just- haven't had good days lately.”
She crossed her arms, looking at you, softened. “More nightmares?”
You regained her eyes for a moment before turning your back on her and moving to one of the velvet armchairs, “Guess which lucky person has been chosen by Heimerdinger himself to be my presentation partner.”
Her shoulders slumped, her arms falling along her body as she walked over to you, sitting down in the armchair opposite.
“Why did you do this?” she questioned, ”Why did you go out of your way to protect Viktor, of all?”
You bite the inside of your lip, slumped in the armchair, eyes resting on the glass table where empty teapot and teacups reside.
“This guy, the student, he was... he'd called Zaunites rats.”
Sélène straightened up, listening to you, urging you to elaborate.
“He insulted Viktor,” you explained without meeting her eyes, “and when he had the guts to answer him, he made him trip over. I just... took Viktor's cane to push behind his knee and make him have a taste of his own medicine. As you can tell,” you pointed your cheek, ”he didn't like that very much. So, he gave me a punch. It was pretty hard, not that I've seen better but... I couldn't help myself. Call it muscle memory or whatever but I hit him on the nose and-”
You replayed the scene in your head, the muffled sound of Viktor's voice as he fell to the ground, the evil twang in the jerk's voice, and the looks on the lot. You sighed as your eyes landed on Selene's.
“I don't like Viktor. Of that, you are aware. But he's one of ours, and sticking with our people is too important for me not to throw decorum out of the window because a guy with a golden ass tried to put him back under the sole of his shoe.”
You almost became carried away, letting the energy of frustration take over for a moment before calming down again.
“Turns out golden ass has a powerful patron,” you recounted as you rolled your eyes and hemmed your bottom lip under the ridiculousness of this situation. “It scared Agrane enough for her to put me alone in detention.”
Selene frowned, “You alone?”
Your knee was beginning to twitch with anxiety.
“Viktor decided to integrate himself into the detention.”
A small smile appeared on Selene's lips, to which you replied with exasperation, raising an eyebrow.
“This boy likes you.”
You rolled your eyes and parted your lips in shock as your head fell to the side. “Please don't send me that kind of curse or I'll never finish this year in one piece.”
She laughed gently, watching you for a moment. You couldn't figure out what she was thinking, couldn't figure her out.
“Do I disappoint you?”
Her eyes softened, sighing as if nothing in the world could ever bring her to this end.
“You never disappoint me, and I don't think you ever will even if you tried your hardest.”
“Setting me on another challenge?” you joked.
“I don't think this one is the kind I want to see you excel in.” she laughed.
The conversation continued a little longer, with Sélène asking about your last few nights' sleep and, incidentally, your day's tarot card.
This morning you had drawn the seven of cups, to which mention Selene, after an interested A-ha, straightened up to recite as if facing one of her clients:
“Options, visions of dreams turning real, wild imagination. The card reflects illusions but also multiple choices. The character is in the dark while the cups are lighted. Is reality as delicious as the imaginary ? All the possibilities are on the table, only the mind limits what we can do. You are prone to illusion and unrealistic ideals. An opportunity with promises of more money, more fame, or more power may sound appealing, but as you look deeper into what is on offer, you may realise it’s not everything it’s cracked up to be. Your ego may pull you in a specific direction, but it’s important you check in with your Higher Self first.”
Your Higher Self, eh? She was on vacation, surely.
Night had already fallen by the time you left Sélène's office and returned from the academy. You felt lighter for having spoken to her; the weight of the lie would have hung too heavy in your heart anyway.
You returned to the dormitories, where Sky was cooking. You chatted for a while, asking her how her day had gone, before taking a seat at your desk and rereading your notes for the day.
Only, a good fifteen minutes later, all the lights went out.
You wondered at the time whether you'd been knocked unconscious, or whether you'd suddenly lost consciousness through exhaustion. It wasn't until Sky called your name in the darkness that you realized the power had simply gone out.
You groped around in the dark, looking for your flashlight, which you reached and turned on. You tucked it between your teeth, searching through your drawers. You'd kept some candles from Eris, Zaun candles made of a special wax that slowed down the melting time of the flame, perfect for a nation of miners.
After several minutes of diligent searching, you finally found them, holding them out to Sky as you picked up your matchbox. You gently placed the flames on them, taking one in your hands.
There was a knock at the door, probably from some students wondering if you too were experiencing a similar situation and if you had anything to keep the light on.
You opened the door, on Viktor.
“You,” you exclaimed in a tone that was equal parts repugnance and disbelief.
“Ah, how I've longed for your sweet voice,” he smiled.
“What do you want?” you inquired, tired enough as it was.
“Can't you answer ‘yes’ like all normal people?” he sighed, pointing with his chin to your candle. “Have you got any more of those?”
“Where's Jayce?”
“Contacting the electrical crew.”
“The whole building's out?”
“The whole neighborhood. Do you have any more candles, or do I have to answer a whole form of your questions to get some light?”
“Here Viktor,” Sky stepped forward, handing him her own candle.
He took it, almost surprised by the gesture.
“Thanks, Ms Young.”
“Sky?” called Orcelyia not far behind Viktor, ”You coming? Everyone's reuniting downstairs in front of the chimney for some warmth.”
“Coming!” confirmed Sky.
“Wait, Sky?” you stopped her, handing her your own candle so she wouldn't get lost on the way since all the students were moving either blindly or with a meager flashlight. “You're not coming?”
“Yes in a-” you were about to answer when Viktor himself replied for you.
“Not yet, we'll join you all soon.”
Sky offered a small smile, her eyes darting back and forth between you and him before leaving in the half-light.
“Did the middle of my sentence interrupt the beginning of yours?” you said, turning back to Viktor.
“I'm sure you'll manage to recover from the deeply traumatic event of me cutting you off while you speak. Do you have any more candles?”
“Yes,” you breathed. “But to find them I need light, and that means a candle.” You held out your hand to him. “Pass me the candle.”
He tilted his head back slightly. “What's the magic word?”
“Oh, yeah nevermind. I'll get it myself.” you say as you turn, trying to make out where to go in the gloom.
“Magic words really aren't your thing,” Viktor remarked, sighing and following you to offer you some light all the same. “Are 'please' and 'thank you' really that hard?”
You knelt down to rummage through the box where the candles were stored. “They're magic words, do you really expect me to waste them on someone like you when they're so full of worth?”
“Oh, I thought that miss Second would just-”
You were on your feet in no time, facing him, and pointing a candle at him.
“Call me that one more time, see what happens.”
He looked startled in the half-light, eyes wide for a moment before they softened. He had a kind of mystical aura, standing there in your room. The almond of flame atop the candle reflected in his amber eyes and lit him softly like those dark, silent paintings.
“You're threatening me with a candle?”
“Zaun candle, much harder when it breaks. Want a taste?”
“If it's from Zaun I doubt it tastes good.”
“Better add that line to our exposé.”
“You're the funniest girl in the whole cemetery,” confirmed Viktor.
“Haha.” you say, not knowing what to say, so you pulled the minimalist irony card.
He moved his candle closer to you, and you exchanged a silent glance with him before bringing your candle closer to let it take flame at its tip. But he drew it back at the last minute, preventing you from doing so.
“Then,” he took a step towards you, ”pick your nickname.”
The indigence and intellectual vacuity of Viktor's principles at the top of their game was back.
“I don't want a nickname.”
“What should I call you then?”
“Don't call me ?”
“I'm afraid that is going to be slightly complicated.”
“Find a solution for it then.”
You moved your candle towards his again, but he withdrew it. Again.
“What now?”
“What did you and Sélène talk about, in her office?”
“How is that any of your business?”
“Shed some light on my questions and I will offer you some.” he said, moving his candle in his fingers like a bone to a dog.
You sighed, your shoulders drooping. “I told her what happened, that's all.”
“Is it, though?” he remarked, arching an eyebrow. “You're not telling me everything.”
“And why the hell would I tell you anything?”
“Because otherwise I will tell the entire building that you stole Jayce's nail polish he uses for his toes.”
You giggled. “Pardon?” you cleared your throat though. “Are you threatening me with fictitious concepts?”
“Do you underestimate my ability to spread rumors, miss?”
You clenched your fist, glaring at him. At least he hadn't affixed the sobriquet 'Number Two' to you again. He annoyed you, constantly having an answer, always something close on his tongue to send you like a knife gift by his accent.
He squinted, his mouth forming into a small, hurried O, as if he'd just touched a nerve. “Go on, I've seen more formidable foes in a toddler's tantrum. Yet, my question still remains: what are you not telling me here?”
You inhaled, raising your chin without ever leaving his gaze.
“You're wasting time with your questions.” you indicated, your chin pointing to the flame. "No flame takes its time."
“Like you said, Zaun candles.” he continued, observing the candle like a gem. ”Harder and longer no matter the situation, like its people. You set them on fire, and you'll be the one burning. So,” his eyes returned to yours, ”I've got all the time I need.”
You looked at him, his eyes boring into yours, waiting for answers. He wouldn't let you go, would he?
“Selene is my guardian.”
His eyes crinkled for a moment. “Your guardian?”
“My legal guardian. Is that enough for you, or do I have to answer a whole form of your questions to get some light?”
He stayed here for a moment, parted lips from your use of his previous words forcing him to be quiet. You hesitated to take his hand, just to stop him from backing away once more, but you had no need to do anything.
He said nothing, simply moved his candle towards yours and, of his own accord, set the little rod alight. It didn't take long for it to settle at the end. After all, no flame takes its time.
“Viktor?” called Jayce, coming down the hall.
You exchanged a silent glance, Viktor's eyes seemingly full of questions in the face of what you'd revealed to him, but he didn't ask for anything else.
“Over here,” Viktor indicated with a raise of his voice, his eyes remaining on you for a moment before turning back and moving towards the corridor.
“Ah, there you are.” Jayce breathed. “We went a bit too strong this time, I don't think this building can...”
But whatever Jayce was about to say died on his tongue as he watched you emerge from your apartment right after Viktor.
“... Can?” you asked, waiting for the end of his sentence.
“Can, um... warm the heater enough to cook something!” He smiled, far too proud of his excuse, mediocre as it was. “Yeah we uh, we've been getting issues with our stove lately so we just tried cooking on top of our heater...”
He scratched the back of his neck nervously, a worried smile placed on his face as you let your eyes shift from him to Viktor.
“Don't look at me like that, we have to get solutions one way or another.” he said, so confidently that you could almost have fallen for this boilerplate explanation undoubtedly covering an entirely different truth.
“You're both part of the top students of all classes, and you decided to use a heater as a way to cook?” you turned to Jayce for a moment before returning to Viktor's eyes. “You'd allow him to go through such an idea huh.”
“Eh...” Viktor seemed to seriously consider the idea, looking up as if to imagine the scene.
“Did you go to NSI? The National School for Idiots?” you asked.
“Hey it's fine,” resumed Jayce, who clearly still had his sights set on making you and Viktor best friends. “How about we join the others downstairs, hm?”
You sighed, taking the front step down. “Jayce, your rose-colored glasses are indestructible.”
So you joined the tiny group of students downstairs, some of whom had even brought out blankets from their rooms to share. It was cold already, the heaters having all been turned off by the power cut, so everyone had gathered in front of the big fireplace in the hall.
Jayce was called out by other classmates, Viktor staying by your side while you remained slightly apart from the group of students.
“So,” Viktor began, “she's your guardian.”
You sighed, “Here we go again.”
“I wouldn't have imagined that Selene, serene as she is, would be your guardian.”
“If there's any fault in her upbringing, it's mine, not hers. Why do you even care so much about all of this?”
He turned to you. “Does it really seem that impossible to you that I want to learn more about you out of genuine curiosity?”
His sentence took you by surprise. Of all the things Viktor could have said, this most unsettled you. Why did he go out of his way to interact with you? To find you to tease, to pester you on a daily basis and throw in some of his jokes in the bunch while balancing it with genuine, honest questions like these?
Your lips were parted, nothing coming to the front of your mind as you tried formulating anything, but still couldn't manage as an unfortunately familiar voice interrupted you.
“So, how was the detention hour?”
Viktor and you turned, the idiot at the heart of your detention standing not far from you.
“Hey Tyler, quit it man,” one of his friends tried to reason, but to no avail.
But he pretended to be deaf to his remark. “Looks like Agrane hasn't lost her mind in the end, Zaunites like you should deserve a longer time in detention, especially behind bars.”
“Why, do we feel threatening to you, Tyler?” asked Viktor almost innocently, pressing the fool's name to his lips.
“What ?No-” replied the latter, baffled for a moment, then frowning and dilating his nostrils through his anger. “Pieces of trash like you just don't belong here, you're getting this place dirty by your sole presence.”
“Being a victim of your own mediocrity must be hard to endure every day of your existence, Tyler.” you chuckled, approaching him who remained standing not far from the fireplace.
“What,” he sneered, ”Miss Number One has become his dog now huh? His guardian to cover him any time he's in trouble?”
“Have you become our groupie?” Your lips almost stretched into a haughty smile, “Are you obsessed with us?”
His face contorted in incomprehension and shame.
“Aw, little Tyler is obsessed with us so much. You cared enough to ask how my detention was, now I'll kindly ask: are you looking for more stitches to cover your face? A black eye to match your nose ?”
He let out a laugh somewhere between mockery and nervousness.
“You wouldn't dare.”
“We're on a field outside the walls of the academy, what happens here, therefore, doesn't happen there and isn't related to it.”
He huffed like a rhinoceros, his shoulders dropping and rising rapidly as he came to clutch a poker before the bemused eyes and exclamations of surprise that rose in the students.
“You're going to pay you fucking bitch.”
But as he began to step forward, Jayce interjected between the both of you.
“Say that again, Tyler. I dare you.”
Tyler froze in place, surprise passing over his face like a suddenly opened curtain letting in the morning light.
“Talis?”
Your heart pounded into your throat as Jayce's massive back faced you, separating you from a fool who knew only hatred and cheap ideas.
“What did you just call my friend, hm? Mind repeating that?”
You met Tyler's gaze behind Jayce's shoulder, the latter exchanging a glance with you before regaining Viktor's in the distance.
“Got two dogs for yourself Viktor,” he said, raising his voice, ”don't you know animals are forbidden in this place ?”
“You should go back with your goldfish peers then,” you remarked.
“You stupid-”
“One more insult to them and you will be sure that a conversation will be held about your case to councillor Torman Hoskel.”
That seemed to be enough to turn Tyler from tomato red to white as a sheet. Jayce seemed to know more about the students than he was letting on, and use it to his advantage, much to your surprise.
The light suddenly returned, and the students all had to get used to the brightness again. Jayce didn't take his eyes off Tyler until the latter finally lowered his head.
“Well,” Jayce resumed, ”everyone, I think it's time for us to go back to our rooms.”
Tyler gave you one last angry look before leaving.
It didn't take long for everyone to pick up their comforters and scatter, Viktor joining you and Jayce in front of the fireplace.
“Having a conversation with Hoskel?” you repeated, confused.
Jayce sighed, his jaw muscle tensing for a moment as he watched you. “From what I remember of Viktor's explanation of last Friday's incidents, he'd mentioned having a powerful patron, or something like that.”
“And his patron is Hoskel?” you concluded bemusedly.
He nodded. “Yes, as well as his uncle.”
You chuckled, not believing the privileges hidden in every student at the academy.
“And how would you expect to have such a conversation?”
Viktor interjected, “By discussing it with his girlfriend.”
Your eyes widened. Your eyes went from Viktor to Jayce like two ping pong balls swinging between the two. Eventually, they settled back on Jayce.
“You have a girlfriend?”
He ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Mhm.”
You weren't really surprised, in fact it would have been surprising if the opposite had been true. Jayce was handsome, successful, caring, a walking green flag, and it would have been the injustice of the century if he hadn't found love.
“Who is she ? Do I know her ?” you asked.
“Well...” Jayce shrugged, looking at the ceiling and then the fireplace, shrugging. “Sort of ?”
“What do you mean sort of?” you quipped.
“Let's say his girlfriend might or might not be sitting at the council.” sighed Viktor.
You turned to him, and by his sigh, you could well imagine how much of Jayce's time was spent talking about her. You chuckled at the thought, at the fact that Viktor, who was martyring you, also had a pain in the ass to put up with most of the time.
“Vik, come on,” Jayce breathed.
“What? She'd have figured it out one day or another.” confirmed Viktor with a shrug.
You listed the councillors in your head, eliminating all the men with ease to find two women. Councilwoman Shoola seemed to frighten Jayce more than anything else, with her long gold claw rings and gear ruff. That left only one obvious option.
“Are you seriously dating Mel Medarda?” you asked, your jaw ready to drop.
“... Yes?”
You gasped. “You are Mel Medarda's boyfriend, daughter of Ambessa Medarda of Noxus?”
“Let's not go too far with the titles,” Jayce laughed nervously.
“When did you- How did you-” All the questions suddenly overlapped, and Jayce placed a hand on your shoulder to stop you.
“I will answer all of this in due time.” He stepped back. “For now, I'm gonna head back to our room. You comin Vik ?”
“In a minute.” he affirmed.
As Jayce rushed down the corridor to the wing of their apartment, Viktor turned to you, a flash of mischief in his eyes.
“I got a body guard for myself now, are you going to save me from papercuts when we'll be back to the library on friday?”
“Do you want me to push your teeth in?”
“You're supposed to be protecting me, not sending me to certain danger, Miss.”
“Whatever, have a night, Viktor.” you sighed as you made your way to your own dormitory.
“A night ? Are you really removing the word 'good' in here?”
“I am, have a night!”
You climbed the stairs to your floor and walked to your room, finding Sky again. She had turned the hob back on and resumed preparing the meal.
“Are you alright?” she asked, turning away from the mini kitchen, genuinely concerned.
“Why wouldn't I be?” you breathed, heading off to lie on your bed for a moment.
“This guy Tyler, he... You were so brave standing up to him.” she said, bits of adoration sparkling in her words. “Is he the same that got you in detention today?”
“The very same,” you sighed, placing your arm over your eyes as you lay back. “Fortunately for me, a teacher heard of it and let us out.”
“I see,” she said, turning back to the pan and its contents. “What did you and Viktor talk about when you were here? You took a bit of time to come down with the rest of us.”
The question was almost bitter beneath its gentle, curious tones. Acidic ideas resonated in it: the fact that you and Viktor had something going on away from everyone, even her and Jayce. Whether this jealousy was amorous or friendly, you weren't sure, but the wording made you feel a twinge of guilt.
It was absurd, though. Did she honestly think that, with the animosity that permeated you about Viktor, you'd have feelings for him and that you'd be... something more than classmates?
“He took the opportunity to pick up some notes I took for Heimerdinger's presentation,” you replied. “We split up the work so he needed to check he wasn't repeating himself with what I say in the paper. I swear if I cross the path of Heimerdinger again or that he puts me on a task with the skeleton king I'm going to shave his fur.”
Sky laughed, erasing your concerns with this gesture alone.
“If you do that I don't know how I'll be able to focus in class, his shaved version must be... so small?”
You laughed a little, ate your meal, chatted quietly until you went back to your respective beds.
You couldn't help thinking about everything that had happened that day. First of all, the fact that Viktor had voluntarily come to spend the hour, or at least the five-minute detention with you. Then the long discussion with Selene, and then the power cut...
Once again you hadn't hesitated to take the lead on him, but that was on principle, wasn't it?
When had the limit been crossed where you could put yourself in danger for him? And for his part, since when had he crossed the line where he would voluntarily, as a friend would, inquire about you?
Does it really seem that impossible to you that I want to learn more about you out of genuine curiosity?
You tossed and turned in bed. Did he mean it? Was he serious, or was this just another sarcasm to add to the long list of bickerings you sent each other on a daily basis?
Miss.
Your train of thought stopped in an instant, and any empathy you'd felt for Viktor vanished into thin air. You realized right then and there its connotation. That no matter what, you'd always be a failure, a miss.
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#madschiavelique ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎#acoi#a crown of ink#arcane#viktor#arcane viktor#viktor arcane#viktor x reader#arcane viktor x reader#viktor arcane x reader#viktor x you#arcane x reader#viktor x y/n
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Day 2 of "Writing SMC angst until he stops breaking my heart and comes home" (welp)
*voz da Patrícia Lélis expondo Estilista Juliana* Ô, gente, voltei.
Another day, another failure. Lady Luck hates me, as suspected. Anyway, this fic is inspired by this post by @allimili , whose art I love so much QwQ No Beta and I also don't have my glasses so pardon any errors
One-Sided! Shadow Milk Cookie x ex!fem!Reader; Truthless Recluse (Pure Vanilla Cookie?) x fem!Reader
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Love is a very odd thing, Shadow Milk Cookie muses to himself. Despite being the holder of Knowledge itself, not even he can truly explain love and its intricacies. Even after feeling it himself, he still doesn't truly understand it.
Befero he abandoned the duty forced on him by the Witches, he had loved with abandon. He didn't know any better-and yes, he can notice the irnoy. But it hadn't mattered back then because he was in love and he was loved and, despite the growing pit of despair and stress in his heart due to his duties, he had been happy.
Happy to see her smile and to hear her voice. Happy to hold her hand and hug her close. Happy to kiss her lips and breath in her scent. He had been happy by her side, through thick and thin and rain and sun and sickness and health and joy and sadness. They had even dreamed of the future together, promises sealed in between bedsheets and sleepless nights.
But then he finally woke up and saw the Witches for what they were: terrible demons of cruelty, gleefully controlling cookies to their whims, a little pet project to pass the time. Right after, he understood what the other cookies truly are: useless batches of greedy ungrateful dolls, baked with every single one of the Witches' sins just to torment those who dream of a better world.
And so his rebellion started, joined by his four friends.
But she... she simply couldn't see. Or, rather, she didn't want to see. Not that he truly blames her, of course, after all, the Witches made sure no cookie would ever learn of their perversion. All his darling beloved knew was the silly cookies and their insignificant little lives.
She had rejected his changes. Gone were the smile and loving words and warm hugs and longing kisses.
The last glare she gave him when he was sealed in that damned tree was of pure hurt and anger. He swore to himself he'd get out and find her again, bring back her pretty smile and shower her in the love she deserved as he once did. He'd make sure of it, make sure she'd finally understand him and his goals. Everything would go back to happiness.
The next time he saw her, (Y/N) was smiling at Pure Vanilla Cookie the exact same smile she'd once give Shadow Milk Cookie.
For a brief moment, he believed the lie that she somehow knew that he was there, watching over her through the blonde cookie. Only for a brief moment, though, enough time for said blonde cookie to confess his feelings to her.
That was not in te script.
(Y/N) Cookie did have a knack for rewriting stories, though, so he should've expected something someone to be beyond his control. It was one of the reasons he had been so enamored with her in the past.
Still he screamed and cried when she returned Pure Vanilla's confession with one of her own.
His rage was so great even Burning Spice Cookie shut up from the root of the silver tree he was confined. Not that Shadow Milk cared, he didn't care for anything but his plans to destroy that weak little thief who stole not only hsi power but his beloved! And his plans to punish said beloved for her infidelity. Ultimately, he'd forgive her, of course, but she needed to pay before it could happen.
And what better way to do it than to corrupt her precious Pure Vanilla Cookie? Make him become just like Shadow Milk Cookie? Show her that in the end, she is meant to be his.
Except.
Except that when the time comes and he finally has Pure Vanilla Cookie Truthless Recluse drowning in the pit of deceit, (Y/N) Cookie doesn't leave him.
She is saddened, yes, and she frequently pleads that he "fights it" and "remember who he is" and "stop hurting other cookies, Milk, there must be another way", but she does. Not. Leave. She stays with him, takes care of him, gives him kisses and hugs.
And Truthless Recluse is so annoying about it too. Kissing her and hugging her and holding her hands and carrying her and smiling at her in a way he should've forgotten because he is not Pure Vanilla Cookie, Pure Vanilla Cookie never never n ever ever existed ever! Ever! everevereverever it has always been Shadow Milk Cookie ALWAYS ALWAYS SO WHY?!
WHY?
Why is that copy the one allowed to love her? How can he even love her? How can he love her when he is not Shadow Milk Cookie? How can he still keep enough of his pitiful sense of self to keep on loving (Y/N) Cookie?! IT'S ALL WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG
Shadow Milk Cookie truly doesn't understand love.
Not that he needs to to hate it.
#cookie run kingdom#pure vanilla cookie x reader#truthless recluse#shadow milk cookie#shadow milk x reader#cookie run x you#cookie run x reader#pure vanilla cookie#truthless recluse x reader
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• . ⋮ TUTOR!MATT x BRATTY!READER introduction .ᐟ ֹ ₊
— a tutor!matt x bratty!reader moodboard



BRATTY!READER ۶ৎ ... who is a brat. a big one. she starts whining and pouting when things doesn't go her way, which they definitely do in most cases. she's quite intimidating, hence her bratty and snappy attitude. it doesn't take much to rile her up, and she's not the most fun to be around when she's in a bad mood.
BRATTY!READER ۶ৎ ... who despite being unreasonably mean, is the biggest softie when she's around her friends and family. she loves them more than anything, and wouldn't trade any of them for the world.. which is why it's so strange for people around campus to see matt follow you around like a lost puppy, and even more bizarre, you let him. if it was anyone else, they'd be shamefully walking the other way.
BRATTY!READER ۶ৎ ... who got into the school she and matt goes to, just from pleading her father. there's no way she'd get into the school without that, her grades a little too low. which she hadn't considered, because now she has to maintain those few good grades she has... hence why she's now stuck with matt, the tutor. the first few times he was tutoring her, she was literally falling off her chair of boredom, but quickly grew fond of him after he started memorizing her coffee order - it was a tiny thing, but it meant the world to her.
BRATTY!READER ۶ৎ ... who rarely cuts matt any slack, always calling or texting him whenever she needs the help. she’s aware he's a little nerdy and introverted, so he can't be doing anything more important than seeing his girlfriend. at first, these little study session start off innocent enough, before she decides he looks too good in his little button-up and glasses, that she's gotta do something about it. and in no longer than a few moments, his head is thrown back against the headboard of her bed, hands gripping her waist as she rides the life out of him.
TUTOR!MATT ۶ৎ ... who's not scared to put her in her place. sure, she's a little whiny, but she's all bark no bite. most the time he doesn't say anything - he loves seeing her riled up, and then turn soft on him a couple moments later.
TUTOR!MATT ۶ৎ ... who worked his ass off to get into this school. the first time he saw bratty!reader, he nearly hated her for getting in without even trying. it was all he could think about when tutoring her, realizing he was tutoring because she got her way into the college, while he was spending restless nights studying - everything went the way you wanted it.. but after getting to tutor her for a few weeks, he grew such a huge soft spot for her, basically thanking the lords that her father paid her way in.
TUTOR!MATT ۶ৎ ... who is a huge brainiac, the top of most his classes, and plans on keeping that as it is. he easily tutors bratty!reader, basically like a second teacher to her - it's always endearing to watch her try to comprehend the boring stuff she's learning, intently watching her tits subconsciously being pressed up in the tiny tank top she's wearing, and then look away when she catches him, acting like nothing happened at all while awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he turns pink.
TUTOR!MATT ۶ৎ ... who loves to comfort bratty!reader. she rarely shows much emotion to anyone other than her friends, so when the facade is finally let down and she hurries her way to his dorm after school, he doesn't hesitate for a second when she throws her arms around his neck, needing to let the bottled up emotions out. and he hates seeing his adorable girl upset, but definitely gets a little turned on, seeing the pretty tears ruin her pretty face.
MASTERLIST
۶ৎ bratty!reader learning tutor!matt a little lesson after he ignored her very clear signs while studying 𓂃 ֹ genre,,smut
۶ৎ tutor!matt x bratty!reader headcanons 𓂃 ֹ genre,,fluff
۶ৎ bratty!reader tries to take control in the bedroom.. but tutor!matt isn't having it 𓂃 ֹ genre,,smut
۶ৎ tutor!matt and bratty!reader making out, when really they should be at a party 𓂃 ֹ genre,,fluff + suggestive
۶ৎ bratty!reader taking tutor!matt's virginity 𓂃 ֹ genre,,smut
taglist: @jetaimevous @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @witchofthehour @elizasturn @loveparqdise @delilahsturniolo @phone4pills @sturnsmia @hearts4werka @cayleeuhithinknott @strnilolover @coffeeobsesssed @lovergirl4gracieabrams @ifwdominicfike
layout inspo by @rafesangelita🤍
© ST7RNIOIOSS est. 2023
#🐇་༘࿐ works#⌗⋆. tutor!matt x bratty!reader ⋆. 𐙚 ˚#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo x reader#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo fanfic#nick sturniolo
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It All Comes Crashing Down
Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
She presses the metal radio against her lips and mumbles her final words, hoping that although he has not spoken, he would hear.
"I love you, Simon.
A/N: The classic 'bomb my location' fic you've all been waiting for! This has been sitting in my drafts for weeks, so I'm glad I finally got it out- I'm thinking about a part 2 where she wakes up and it's some extra fluff, maybe?
Masterlist
She takes a shaky breath in as her hands grip her rifle tighter, but when she speaks her voice is as steady and firm as ever.
"Bomb my location."
The words are acrid on her tongue, but they feel right to her heart. Her mind is in disarray, trying to piece together any other solution that won't have her ending up under dead under pounds of rubble, but she knows deep down that there's no other way out of this.
An entire enemy organisation eliminated at the expense of one soldier.
It was a win-win for everyone but her.
And that was alright. She's made her peace with it, made it the moment she signed her name on those documents giving her life away to the tang of blood and the scent of gunsmoke.
"Level the building." She continues, wincing at another hail of fire that rains upon her. Heavy footsteps and orders barked in Russian move around her location. Steadily being surrounded, there was little hope for a smooth extraction or escape anyway. "Have Soap blow the charges, Captain. Then send in the airship and raze this hellhole to the ground."
"Like hell we're doing that." Gaz's voice comes through her comms, frustrated. "We're not leaving her, Price." They must have rendezvoused successfully, because Gaz doesn't speak through the comms, rather it sounds as if he's turning away his head to speak to the man directly.
It brings a small smile to her face despite the circumstances. Her boys would get out of this, at least.
Simon. Her mind flashes to her Simon and she thanks whoever's above that they had split up before everything went to shit.
It had been fine at first. She was setting the charges they needed to bring the building down while he fetched the intel from somewhere else, and really, she should have been suspicious when it all went smoothly.
She'd planted the last charge before the enemy started closing in.
Like rats, they seemed to emerge out of nowhere shooting her down and pinning her until she had no choice but to slip away and barricade herself in one of the nearby rooms. The entrance and exits were likely swarmed with people and here she sat, in the heart of it all.
Unreachable, untouchable.
She sort of tunes out the muted conversation on the other end, lets the ringing on her head take over. Loud angry cursing, yelling in distinctive Scottish, the harsh rasp of her Captain telling everyone to calm down...it all floats through her mind.
Everyone but Ghost.
She doesn't hear his voice...but he was alive, wasn't he? She'd seen him slip out of the building through the window in front of her, so she knows he must have gotten out. The thought makes her gut curl up, brings her back to the present.
"Negative, Sergeant." Price's voice cuts through her thoughts, much louder than the others. "We're mapping out a route to come get you-"
"Price, it'll be suicide." Perhaps it's the way her voice softens and quiets, the gentle way she talks so different from the harsh way she's spoken earlier. It's as if she's accepted it, is content to lay down and allow herself to be swallowed by the dirt she came from. "I'm one soldier. Don't make yourself visit more than one coffin."
"I'm going to-"
"Set off the charges."
There's a beat of silence, painstaking silence where nobody speaks. Even the gunfire outside the room she's barricaded in seems to fade out for a moment.
"Copy."
A death sentence coming from the man she considered family.
It cracks a smile out of her. She squeezes her eyes shut, lets her head fall against the blood spattered wall behind her.
"Make sure my replacement's just as much a pain in the ass to you, alright?" If the way her voice breaks at the end of her last sentence is noticed, it's not brought up. "Simon's gotta have someone to push around, yeah?"
"There's no replacing you."
There's arguing. Soap and Gaz are yelling, and it's startling because she's never heard either of them shout the way they are, at their Captain nonetheless.
It's comforting to know she was cared for, even if she's about to die.
A sudden bang on her door makes her jump. Muffled Russian filters through the old wood. Someone ramming at it with something, trying to break it down.
But it doesn't really matter, does it? She'll be going out on her own terms even if they find her now.
Ghost...Simon. Where was he? If there was one thing that'd settle her mind right now it'd be hearing that gravelly voice, even if it was merely yelling at her, telling her how stupid it was to suggest what she has.
A desperation claws at her chest, deep down. She wants Simon, wants to spend the night in his bed again, wants to hug him, feel his skin, wants to see those rare smiles of his one more time.
Just once.
Just one more time before she-
"Charges setting off in 5-"
How cruel was the world?
She hopes Simon knows that she didn't mean to leave him. That she wanted him to go on without her, to not fall into the void of 'what-if's.' It wasn't his fault.
Her eyes burn but she refuses to let out the helpless sob clawing its way up her throat. She wants...she wants so much. Wants to do so much more, wants to live, and breathe and smile and laugh and experience and live. Simon. She wants to tell him so much more.
If she could go back in time and fill their silences with all the words she wants him to know right now, she'd do it in a heartbeat.
It's an impulsive decision, how her hand shoots up to grab at her radio frantically. Switching it to the private line between just the two of them, she presses the metal against her lips and mumbles her final words, hoping that although he has not spoken, he would hear.
"I love you, Simon."
The ground crumbles beneath her, the world turns to black.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Slipping out of the small shed, he tucks the papers into his vest. For a multi-national organisation, they sure were stupid as hell when hiding their intel.
Scanning the grounds for any movement, Ghost moves out, keeping to the shadows until he reaches the edge of the field that morphed into the woods farther down.
"Intel secured, moving to rendezvous point now." He says into his comms. He frowns when he doesn't get an answer back, grabbing his radio and speaking again, casting a glance back into the foliage in the distance where he knows the others have staked their place to operate from.
Price, Gaz, and Soap were operating remotely, dealing with drones and distant detonation devices, whereas the other two had infiltrated the building separately.
Plant the charges and secure the intel. Simple tasks made difficult when they both realised that the intel wasn't in the building, but instead in the shed attached to the side of the complex instead. Splitting up had been the most logical thing to do, even when Ghost had refused at first.
"It'll be fine. Quick and easy, right?" She'd told him with a grin. "Get that intel before I'm out of the building and maybe I'll give you an extra treat when we get back." Ghost had rolled his eyes at her suggestive wink.
"Does anyone copy?" He says into the object. He's met with nothing but muffled crackling and garbled speech, tinny and indecipherable. Ghost scowls at the machine, ripping it off of his vest and turning it over. It crackles and pops with bursts of sound but nothing cohesive enough to interpret
"I-...ou...Simon"
"Fucking thing's busted." He mumbles to himself, shoving the item back into his vest, his hand brushing against the folder of intel he's successfully recovered from the shed attached to the main building.
He can spot one of the convoy vehicles near the edge of the woods, but he doesn't let his guard down even as he crosses the field towards it.
Ghost barely takes a step through the dead grass before the building behind him goes up in an explosion that makes even him unsteady with the force of it. Flames lick up the east side of the massive structure and Ghost takes a second to watch as it crumbles in on itself sending up clouds of dust and debris.
Good fucking riddance.
He's looking forward to getting the hell out of this place once he rendezvous with everyone else. This mission had stretched on for far longer than it should have, the elusive bastards slipping away through their fingers time and time again with dirty, underhanded tactics.
The foliage grows thicker as he steps into the woods, rifle at the ready. A click of a safety had him raising his weapon and spinning around immediately.
When he sees a very familiar mohawk, however, he lowers his weapon instantly. "Blue!" He says loudly, bringing up a hand to half Soap. "Just me, Johnny."
Soap follows suit and lowers his weapon, his shoulders visibly relaxing the tiniest bit. "Welcome back." He says, but something about his voice makes Ghost uneasy. "Price and...and the others are prepping exfil." He gestures towards the clearing.
"Everyone else made it back?" He asks as they push through the meager trees and into the open space where soldiers are rushing around tying up loose ends.
"Aye." Soap chokes out.
Ghost would question it, but he's too busy doing a sweep of the clearing, putting names to faces. Price and Gaz were there, going back and forth over something. It strikes him a little odd how furious Gaz looks, Price looking so resigned but he pushes it away in favour of catching a glimpse of the person he's more inclined to spot.
"We tried what we could, but she was pinned down." Soap breaks the silence, misinterpreting the reason behind his silent staring at Gaz and Price. "We didn't...Laswell's insisting immediate evac, but Gaz wants to at least find a body to bury." A bitter laugh that makes Ghost's stomach drop like a stone.
"What?"
Soap rakes a bloody hand through his hair, shakes his head, and continues on like he's in some sort of shock. "I don't want to. I think she'd rather us leave her buried there than dig out bits and pieces and bury her again." His voice cracks.
Bury...?
There's only one woman in their team.
There's only one person he hasn't accounted for in the clearing.
There's only one person he hasn't reached on his comms before they broke.
The world spins, his mind screams and falls silent, a crescendo of noise and denial. The ground shifts beneath his feet, rocking him into a state that makes him feel like he's walking on string.
"MacTavish." His words are so calm and even, it's eerie. "Is my girl still in the building?" He feels detached from himself, perhaps a way to distance himself from the pain of the implied.
Soap looks at him for a long moment, then croaks out one, broken word.
"Was."
And it all comes crashing down.
He's been through torture before. Had his skin marred, his fingernails torn off, been hung from his ribs but nothing, nothing has ever come close to the way his heart twists.
Nothing had ever made him panic in a way that has his throat closing up.
"Christ." Johnny breathes, and it's a sound that drags him back from the brink of something horrible. Soap's eyes are fixed on the empty spot on his vest that holds his radio on normal days, horrified. "You didn't bloody know." He states.
Wasting time answering is useless. Talking, speaking breathing is useless because not a moment later Ghost is sprinting towards the rubble.
The rubble that he had just watched fallen. The building he'd stood there and watched fall down, had felt pride and relief in seeing.
His gear digs into him, the air thickens with smoke and dust but he doesn't stop. Vaguely he hears people yelling after him, hears Price and Gaz and Soap and every other motherfucker who stood by and detonated the charges. Friend or foe it didn't matter to him right now. If someone dared to get in his way he'd mow them all down, grind them into nothing and keep going.
They blew the charges.
The airship would be here any minute to finish the job.
No, he'd get to her by then. Ghost slams down into the ground somewhere near where they split off. He'd find her by then, and he'd bring her back, bring her to medical and she'd be fine in a week or two.
There was no other fucking option.
The debris rakes off the fabric of his gloves, splits the skin on his fingertips as he hauls and pushes and pulls and digs through stone and metal and wood, leaving evidence of his efforts in the form of his own blood behind.
She had to be okay.
Not her. Not like his mother, not like his brother, not like his nephew.
Not her.
He digs, calls out her name until his voice is hoarse, pulls away piece after piece of rubble until his fingers are torn to shreds.
Just as he hears the sounds of incoming aircraft, he spots something that makes the knot in his chest slam against his ribcage in pure and utter terror.
It's been a while since Simon has felt fear this pure.
Hair that he's familiar with, strands that he's gripped and gently soothes his fingers through peek out from under the piece of metal he's just lifted.
Unable to breathe, his attempts at moving the earth increase tenfold. He picks off stone after stone, brick after brick until more of her body is uncovered. Still, unmoving, bleeding. Once he's gotten her top half free, he hesitates for one horrible moment because what if he looks down to see a still chest?
Steeling himself, he bites the bullet and curls an arm around her waist, pulling her out of the debris.
The relief that slams into him when he feels her shallow, breaths against his palm is almost enough to send him to his knees.
"I've got you, love." He mumbles, half to himself as he adjusts her in his arms. She's dead weight, pulse barely there but present.
Cuts and bruises, Ghost can name at least five lacerations and countless other places she's bleeding from, a broken arm, leg, and who knows what kind of internal bleeding.
Alive.
But still alive.
And that was enough because like hell Ghost was going to let the one good thing in his life slip through his fingers ever again. He'd drag whoever he needed to her aid, he'd go to hell and back just to make sure she got to open her eyes again.
With limps that ache and a heart that's heavy, he quickly moves them out of the rubble, just in time to see two aircraft circling their location. They hadn't dropped any explosives yet, which a far part of Simon's brain thinks might be Price's doing.
Uncaring of whoever was watching, because frankly everyone could fuck off right now and it would be preferable, Ghost presses his lips to her hair as he moves into the clearing with her.
"Medic!" He barks out. "Right fucking now!"
He ignores Gaz's strangled gasp, ignores the way the entire team approaches them and tries to help. Ghost is a little concerned that if he let the adrenaline that's pumping through his veins go, he might just collapse as well, and that was unacceptable at the moment.
A weak hand grasps at the front of his vest, his eyes snapping immediately to her at the movement.
"S...'mon?" She says, words so faint he barely hears them?
"I'm here." He confirms, pressing his face to her hair harder. "I've got you, darling." He whispers. "I've got you."
It soothes her, because she nods against him and lets herself relax. It's only then that Simon notices she's holding something in her good hand in a deathly tight grip.
Upon closer inspection, it's a radio.
"I-...ou...Simon"
Fucking hell. His grip on her tightens.
She'd been trying to contact him in what she thought were her last moments, and he'd never have known because his fucking radio was broken.
It doesn't matter, he tells himself, chants it over and over again in his mind. He's got her again, and like hell is he ever letting go now.
When the medics bring out a stretcher, Price has to talk him into letting her go down into him, practically ordering him to let the bloody medics do their jobs. He doesn't stray far, however, keeping a hand on her at all times. Sat next to where they were working on her in the helicopter back, never once do his eyes stray from her unconscious form.
She wakes up once or twice, whines, and fights against the medic's hands with a panic-induced haze. Every time Simon is there, holding her hand, muttering rough, soothing praise and assurances.
It calms her down immediately, the trust in those far away pain-addled eyes when they meet his is enough to make his heart twist.
Simon stays with her the entire time, and then takes residence in a seat next to her hospital bed on base, ready for when she wakes up.
Hell would freeze over before Simon would ever let them be apart again.
If that makes him selfish, then so be it.
Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!
(12/08/2023)
#ghost cod#cod mw ghost#ghost call of duty#ghost modern warfare#ghost mw2#ghost simon riley#ghost x reader#cod ghost#mw2 ghost#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#call of duty modern warfare 2#modern warfare x reader#angst#x reader#x y/n#fluff#simon riley#simon riley fluff#simon riley imagine#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare ii#modern warfare#cod modern warfare#modern warfare 2#modern warfare ii
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I'll Only Make You Cry || F1
type :: hurt no comfort tw/cw :: cheating, panic attacks, contains :: carlos, charles, lando, oscar, summary :: you catch the drivers cheating on you, crushing everything you've ever known about him - "my heart just can't be faithful for long, i swear i'll only make you cry" - cry by cas
f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!
Carlos Sainz | 55
There's no way he could ever recover from this. You could tell that his PR team was working overtime in order to sweep this all under the rug. They came up with the lie that you and Carlos broke up a while ago, but you knew the truth all too well.
You never broke up with Carlos, God you even thought you guys were going perfect! Everything seemed to be great until all of those photos got leaked online of Carlos with a random model. She was beautiful, everything that you were insecure about, she lacked. Not a single pimple, spot of cellulite, smidge of fat, nothing. She was like a doll, it only made you more upset.
Did Carlos ever actually feel attracted to you? When you vented to him about your fears of not being enough for him and he comforted you so gently, saying you were a Goddess that could make Aphrodite jealous. And yet, as you kept scrolling through the photos of Carlos and the model, you felt as if you were the Hunchback of Notre dame.
Did Carlos ever actually love you? He was taking this model out to trip in Paris, Spain, and Japan and yet the biggest trip you've done with Carlos is visit your home town. He took her out to fancy dinners, on cruises, and private jet rides and yet you were never even aware he had his own private jet.
He's been spamming you with calls and texts, but you didn't reply to a single one. You were too busy packing up all of your stuff as you got ready to leave your shared apartment. Taking everything with you would be too big of task for now, since you owned most of the kitchen appliances, bedding, hell you even owned the couch. So you focussed on just the basics that you needed to live, shoving them into as many bags as you could. Your best friend said she'd come over and help you pack once she was done with work. She should be with you in about an hour or so, but you have the worst luck ever.
Because instead of Carlos coming home at around midnight, like usual, he came home earlier. It only made you wonder if he only stayed out till midnight to see his other lover, making you feel even sicker to your stomach. You didn't bother to look up at him as he entered the room.
"Cariño, please, no no no, stop" He said as he rushed up to you, trying to stop you from packing but you shoved his hands away. You gave him a disgusted look, as if you no longer knew him. Which was true, you didn't even recognize Carlos anymore.
"(Y/N), please it's just lies. The media is lying!" He tries desperately to convince you but his excuse sounded so stupid, beyond stupid. There's photographic evidence, everywhere that you looked online it was shoved into your face. Not a chance of editing or AI, it was just the raw photo.
"No," you said, trying to sound strict but your voice was still weak despite the loud volume of it, "We're done."
"No no no no, please, please no." He looked so weak, pathetic. You could see the tears form in his eyes. Although you felt hurt to watch him cry, you couldn't bring yourself to feel any empathy since you've been crying for hours on end.
With perfect timing, your best friend knocked on the door. You hastily shoved the final pieces of clothing that you needed as you slammed your suitcase shut. Your best friend ran in and quickly helped grab anything else you could need, like toiletries and electronics. Carlos knew he couldn't do anything, so he stood awkwardly to the side as he watched you leave his life instantly.
Charles Leclerc | 16
Your breathing became shaky as you read the lengthy text message your friend sent you. It was filled to the brim with apologies for what they were saying, but you couldn't even process most of what they wrote since you were so busy staring at the photos of Charles kissing his ex girlfriend.
It was if everything around you just shattered in front of you, that the past year you spent with him was for nothing. All of those dates, kisses, meeting his family, introducing him to your grandma, all for nothing. What hurt even more was the fact that Charles was your first boyfriend after about 2 years since your last ex did the same exact thing.
You were so lost in thought that you didn't even hear the door click as Charles entered your shared hotel room. He just finished having dinner with his team, enjoying a great night out, something he didn't deserve.
As he called your name in such a gentle and loving tone, it made you resent him. How could he possibly act so innocent when you have a literal stack of evidence of him cheating right in your hands. How could he keep acting as if everything was fine?
You turned, tears falling out of your eyes rapidly as your lips shivered, unable to stop yourself from showing how you truly felt. Instantly, he ran to you and held your hand, so gentle and soft, yet those hands were all over his ex last week. You shoved his hand away, simply tossing your phone at him. His eyes scanned the screen, his look of concern being replaced with a face that was mortified.
"Amor," He says gently, once again his hand reaches out to grab your face but you refuse to let him near you. "(Y/N), please, I... I know... I'm so sorry."
His lack of a defense made you even sicker, how could he not even explain himself??? Not even an excuse of being drunk, being stupid, of the photos being old. Not a single excuse, meaning he knew how wrong he was and yet he still did it to please himself, completely forgetting about you.
"We're done." You try to say in a firm tone, but your throat was so tight that it became a whisper. You stood up from the bed, as you hastily began to pack your bags as Charles paced the room with his hands hiding his face.
"Amor, please stop." He says as he tries to stop you. "I-I'll break it off with her."
But you could tell, from the slight stutter and the way his eyes were darting across your face to read you: he was lying yet again. So you shook your head, wiping your tears with your hands as you ran out of the room to order an Uber to somewhere else, anywhere else.
And he didn't stop you. He knew he fucked up, and he knew he didn't deserve you.
Lando Norris | 04
Doing Lando's laundry was boring, but you knew it needed to be done. It was one of the many tasks you did for him to help make his life just a bit easier, especially since he has little to no clue how to even use a washing machine. The last time he did his own laundry, the entire apartment was filled with soap suds because he overloaded it with detergent.
As you made sure to tie his hoodie strings together and empty his pockets, you grabbed something odd out of his trousers. A hotel key card. This wouldn't have been super odd, he's forced to sleep in hotels 24/7 due to his job except the fact that it wasn't a fancy hotel like usual. You knew McLaren would only put Lando in the best hotels possible, so it was suspicious to see a random hotel brand that's known for being cheap and easy to buy.
You could feel something wrong in your guts, something telling you that this wasn't just some random bad booking from McLaren but instead something deeper. It felt extremely stalker-ish but you needed to satisfy the voice in your head: so you looked through Lando's bank statements.
And that's when you saw that he booked this room three nights ago, when he told you he was staying at Oscar's place after a huge party. You could feel your heart sink, assuming the worse possible scenario. But you tried to push those thoughts aside and see the best in him.
But that attempt was cut short, as you scrolled up and saw multiple bookings at random hotels. So many random hotels that you eventually lost track. The only things that was also being charged on his card were drinks, which were always bought in extreme amounts before booking a room.
You weren't dumb, your brain connected the dots easily: he was cheating on you. But you still didn't have solid evidence beside bank statements. Besides, maybe he wasn't cheating on you? Maybe he just gets super wasted and then crashes at a hotel instead of his fancy one to sleep? Sounds stupid, but then again Lando is pretty stupid.
So you decided to dig deeper, going through his bank history to see if he has any other odd statements. That's when you saw money constantly being sent to random Zelles, Paypals, and Venmos. You thought it would just be him paying his friends back or giving them some money - but all of the names were female. Tiffany, Rebecca, Malibu, and many more. Oddly enough it was always on the nights he got a hotel. Almost as if he was paying a girl for a service. But there's no way he could be cheating? He's just your plain old stupid Lando, right?
Continuing your stalker behavior, you searched the girls names online. And you were right - all your worst fears coming true. They were all models, drop dead gorgeous models. Skinny, tall, blonde, and rich, his exact type. And as if couldn't get worse, all of those models followed him and he followed them back. And even more worse, the more you scrolled through the girls feed: you could connect the entire story. You knew you needed to leave.
As you cried whilst packing your bags, you heard the door click. He came home, much earlier than you expected him to. Normally you'd run to him, greeting him with kisses and hugs. He went searching for you, finding you on the floor as you folded your clothes into your second large suitcase.
"Love? What's going on???" He says, panicking and trying to keep his cool. He knew that you knew, there's no other reason for you to pack besides that. Instantly, he got onto his knees, being at your eye-level as his hand went on top of yours, trying to stop you from packing.
But you flinch your hand away, giving him a nasty glare as you stared at him coldly. You wanted to speak to him, curse him out, shove all of your evidence into his face, but you couldn't. Your throat was shut tight and your lungs were barely able to give you enough oxygen to breathe whilst crying.
"Just tell me, please, please just tell me what I did." He said, as he started unpacking your bag. He took out your folded clothes, unravelling them, ruining your hard work to pack neatly. "You don't need to leave, we can fix this!"
His words made it clear that he knew, he knew that he's ben caught. And he knew that there was no way to defend his actions. Sure he was drunk, but making that "mistake" 40 times is a habit. As if to make you even mad, you saw Lando begin to cry.
As if his tears switched a gear in you, you smacked his hand away from your luggage as you hastily shoved all the now-unfolded clothes into your suitcase. "I'll never forgive you." You said with venom in your words despite your grief.
Oscar Piastri | 81
You couldn't find your favorite lip liner, it always went missing for some reason. Although you had other lip liners, you NEEDED this one, you were loyal to it. It was the best shade and buttery smooth, you wanted to use only the best products for this award show you were attending with Oscar.
But as you continued to search helplessly, you started to search Oscar's desk. Sometimes you would place stuff on his desk on accident. As you searched through his desk, you found a small little velvet box. Your heart instantly dropped, was that a ring? Possibly for you?! You have been dating for almost 2 years now, about to reach 3 years within a month. A smile crept onto your face, unable to hide the joy of possibly being Oscar's forever.
You sneakily opened the box, only to be met with a beautiful rose-gold necklace... Odd, you're not a rose-gold girl. You've always been a silver person since you were born. But the material didn't even matter, as you looked at the rose-gold plated name, "Lily", his ex's name...
Oh haha,,, you awkwardly close the box. Must have been an old gift he was supposed to give her? Except, as you examined the box, there wasn't an ounce of dust on it. And even worse, you checked the bottom of the velvet box, with a message saying, "Happy 6 Years, my Lily." The exact amount of time they would have been dating, if you never came in the picture...
"(Y/N)! We have to go now! We're about to be late-" Oscar came into the room, looking at your holding onto the small box. Instantly, his eyes widened as he quickly grabbed the box out of your hands. "Why are you snooping around my desk??"
As if you snooping was the biggest issue, and not the fact the he has a gift for his ex - or actually, not his ex, but his other girlfriend. His defensiveness and blame was shocking to you, he's never been like this before. Usually he's calm and collected, able to talk any issue out, but now it's as if he's defending his life.
"Why do you have that...?" You question him, voice weak from worry that your reassurances to yourself were all false. "Why does it say Lily?"
"It's nothing, we need to go now." He says, dismissing you completely as he shoved the necklace into his pocket. His back turned as he walked out of his office, his shoulders were tense, hands pushing his hair back as he chewed the inside of his mouth - high from nerves.
But you couldn't care less for this stupid award show, you chased him and asked again as his hand was on the door knob. "Oscar, what's the necklace for? Why does it say Happy 6 years?" You voice shivered slightly.
He was unable to answer, not sure how to get out of this. Although he's been hiding Lily for ages, now it seemed as if he was unable to do it for any longer. "We'll talk about it when we get back home." He says, trying to stall for more time to come up with an excuse and plan.
But you stood your ground, standing in the house still while he was waiting outside of the door. As you both looked in each others eyes, your eyes welling up with tears while Oscar's were colder than usual: it was as if you could both tell it was the end.
"Can you at least act fine for 3 more hours." He says apathetically, making the tears finally fall from your eyes which answer his question. No, you could not act fine for 3 hours, how would that even be possible. You guess it is possible since Oscar has been acting "fine" for 3 fucking years with you.
Your tears didn't even make him flinch, instead it made him sigh. His hand pushed on the knob as he left you in the room, alone. You understood what his silence meant: it was over. You began to pack the essential before calling your best friend to get you. Within a span of 10 minutes, the man that you saw being your future husband was gone.
f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!
#f1#formula 1#carlos sainz x reader#charles leclerc x reader#lando norris x reader#oscar piastri x reader#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#carlos sainz#charles leclerc#lando norris#oscar piastri
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totally not at all inspired by a real life snowboarding injury, I present poly!141 x injured!reader
cw: hurt/comfort, accents attempted
You're sat in the hospital bed doing your best not to cry. You hold the tears at bay not because you're fine. Not because you're proud. Not because of the shock running through your system. No, you try hard not to cry because you don't know how your boyfriends will react if you're in tears when they show up.
The spill was the most ridiculous accident, comical in its cartoonish nature: ice on the steps. You were rushing to catch The Tube, desperate not to be late. You knew if any of your men were home, they would have chided your footwear. The pink heels were absolutely impractical, but they matched your pearl grey dress so perfectly. On a normal day, you would have worn something sensible and simply brought the cute shoes to wear around the office.
But today was not a normal day. Today was your anniversary, and you had lovely dinner plans with your men scheduled. You wouldn't be able to come home after work, so you needed to look perfect all day.
You were almost home free when the last step ruined everything. Your foot slid, your bag fell, and you put your hands out to stop your forward momentum. So many bad ideas all in a row.
You felt something pop, heard a snap, and knew immediately you were very injured. Pain radiated all the way up your arm, leaving fire in its wake. Signals weren't making their way from your brain to your hand; it flapped, unresponsive, in your lap.
Thankfully your neighbor, Mrs. Gillen, was on the curb, and while she couldn't help you when you fell, she called 999 for you. She asked if your men were upstairs, and when you shook your head, she called John. You knew she had everyone's number, but as she'd learned, a call to John usually got everyone.
As they loaded you into the ambulance, you heard Mrs. Gillen ask an EMT where they were taking you, only to relay that information into her mobile.
So now you wait in A&E, arm in a sling, hooked up to an IV of fluids and pain meds, to see just how bad things are. You hear your men before you see them, John's voice low, demanding information on you. You don't hear a response, but John's growled response means he didn't get what he wanted.
Next you hear Johnny, frantically shouting your name as A&E techs try to shush him for the benefit of other patients and their families. A nurse comes in, unease in his eyes, and says there are several people asking for you. He tells you they have a code they can call if you're not safe, if the people looking for you need to be directed elsewhere or handled by the authorities.
You roll your eyes and assure the nurse it's okay. You pass him your phone, open to a picture of the five of you on holiday in Majorca last summer. "They're mine," you tell him ruefully. "Best let them back if it isn't against protocol, otherwise you'll be dealing with a big ruckus."
He eyes you hesitantly, despite the evidence on your phone. "Really," you say. "We're together. They'll be harmless if they can see me."
He steps into the hall and you watch him talk with a doctor and a man in a security uniform. They all come in and you have to explain your unconventional relationship, all the while listening to Johnny's shouts grow more panicked and Simon's rumble join John's. The only one you don't hear is Kyle, but you sure it's because he's restraining Johnny, who would be running through the halls pulling open doors if he could.
Finally the nurse, doctor, and security guard leave. Within moments the door bangs open so hard it strains the hinges. The hall light is blocked by a mass in the door, breathing heavily.
"Hi, Simon," you say sheepishly. He steps into the room, strides eating up the distance to where you are. You watch his aborted attempt to hug you. You raise your uninjured arm and he quickly shuffles into the space, pressing his face to your hair and breathing deeply.
"Oh, darling," you hear John sigh, "what happened?"
You feel your face heat and won't meet his eye. His gaze tracks from your injury down your dress to your legs. And those pink heels. You see the realization hit. "Please tell me you did not leave the flat in those shoes." His voice is muffled by the hand he's dragged over his face.
"I wanted to look perfect for tonight," you reply. "And now I've ruined it all," you sniffle.
"Och, hen," comes Johnny's voice. "Ye didnae ruin anything," he coos, coming over, elbowing Simon out of the way to press kisses to your hair and cheek. "We were so worried when Mrs. Gillen called. We jus' wan' ye safe. Yer already perfect." He kisses you again and again.
"Ya mind if we wait with ya, love?" Kyle asks, sitting in the chair next to the bed.
You were nervous about being in A&E alone, scared of what damage you did to yourself. "I wouldn't want you anywhere else," you tell him.
They boys take up various positions around the room, Simon looming behind you, eyes crossed, watching the door; John in the chair near the door, looking at your chart; and Johnny on the bed with you, your uninjured hand in his.
When the attending finally comes in, she pulls up short at how full the room now is. She looks at your men, then at you, and says, "Do you want this medical information shared, or shall we ask everyone to wait outside?"
Suddenly the room feels smaller, the air stuffier. You know it isn't harder to breathe, but your men are expansive, and the idea they might not be welcome as the doctor tells you the extent of your injuries is too much.
"No, doctor," you say, trying to head off a confrontation. "They're with me. And it's best they hear whatever this is from you." You look at John and add, "I'm sure they'll have questions."
The doctor holds your eye for a long moment, and you see the moment she decides to trust you. She comes to the end of the bed and holds her tablet out, waiting for John and Kyle to come around and join Simon behind you.
She brings up the first scan of your forearm and you see it before she says anything, the glaring black line across the solid white bones. Combined fracture of the radius and ulna. She brings up a second scan of your shoulder where the injury is less obvious. There's no bone break, but the doctor points out where you tore the ligaments in your glenohumeral joint.
The more she talks the more the words blend together. You hear surgery. Physical therapy. Weeks of recovery. John's voice joins the doctor's. Then Simon's.
You tune them out, worrying about what this means for your job, for taking care of the house when your men are on deployment, for the burden this puts on the others.
You feel a warm weight on your thigh and glance down to see Johnny's hand, thumb rubbing soothingly back and forth. The sharp line of his jaw digs into your uninjured shoulder enough to get your attention. You turn your head to glance at him. He leans forward, breath warm against your cheek as he whispers, "Stop thinkin' so hard. Takin' care a ye isnae hardship. Hell, it's gunna mean ye cannae tell us tae stop."
You frown and whisper back, "I'm not supposed to be a burden," mouth twisted into a frown.
He scoffs. "Ah dare ye tae tell LT or the Cap'n yer a burden."
A throat clears, and you look away from Johnny. The doctor looks resolute; John's eyes are full of pity. They both seem to wait for your reaction, but to what? You were spiraling until Johnny drew you back to them, but what had John and the doctor said to make them look at you like that?
Your eyes dart between them, mouth opening and closing in your best imitation of a fish until the doctor saves you further embarrassment. "We can't do anything more today. The bones in your arm can't be set until the swelling goes down, so we can only put you in a temporary splint until a real cast goes on in about a week. And I don't want to schedule the surgery until the bone is in a cast, and preferably not until it's healed, but I need more imaging on the ligament to determine how quickly it needs surgery. I'm going to have to send you home with pain medication only. You're going to need quite a bit of help for a while."
At first, the most you manage is a small, "Oh." You clear your throat and try again. "Thank you, doctor. Er, when should I schedule the imaging for? And how should I do that? Oh, and where do I go for the actual cast?"
The doctor sighs and looks at John first before the others. "I gave your, er, friend all the contact information for the orthopedist and imaging specialists. He said they'd make sure you have your appointments set. I also gave him your script for pain medication to help you manage these first few days."
You thank the doctor again as your boys escort you home. You hold the tears at bay on the drive home, waiting quietly in the car when Kyle takes your prescription into the chemist. You make it up the stairs in Simon's arms, cradled against his chest like a fragile bird. It isn't until you're back in your flat that the tears come.
A torrent of pain snakes down your arm, stealing the breath from your lungs when you try to shrug your jacket off. Simon is only a step behind you, and he lunges forward, hands under you as you crumple, sobbing, to the floor.
A pair of warm, calloused hands gently cup your face. You can't see through the tears, but you smell sunshine when Kyle shushes you, telling you they're there.
"I don't want to be a burden," you cry between sobs. Your lungs are beginning to burn, everything throbbing in time to the ache in your arm. "Now I've messed everything up!"
You're picked up, gently, from the front hall. The smell of gunmetal tells you it's Simon. His soft steps thud along the floor. There're too many steps for you to be heading for the den, you think. The realization strikes that you must be going to the bedroom. The arms holding you deposit you in front of them on the bed.
Your hair is maneuvered over your uninjured shoulder and you hear the rasp of the zipper as it slowly descends. Simon carefully manipulates your good arm out of its sleeve while Johnny kneels to take your cute shoes off. Then Kyle and Simon work together to carefully, cautiously shift and support your arm to get your other sleeve off. You have a momentary flash - I'm glad A&E didn't cut my dress - before it's overwhelmed by the agony of getting your other sleeve down.
By the time the top of your dress has been slipped off, you're practically panting, teeth clenched tight to prevent the scream from clawing its way up your throat. The boys get you the rest of the way undressed and into your pajamas.
You look around and notice John isn't in the room. You look behind you to Simon, the one most likely to give you a straight answer, but when you ask about John, he pretends not to know him at all!
John walks in a moment later with some flowers you recognize from the vase in the kitchen. "I know you're disappointed, dove. We all are, but not because we think we're missing out if you're not there." John gets down onto one knee. "This isn't what we talked about. This isn't where we wan'ed to do it." He pulls a ring box out. "Was gonna do this at dinner, but I think you need ta remember, dove, you're our world."
You blink back more tears as Simon's voice vibrates your ribcage. His voice rumbles, " Wan' ya to be ours fully."
You look at Kyle and see the giant grin splitting his face.
You don't have to look to see Johnny's sitting, energy practically vibrating off him in waves, waiting as patiently as a kid on Christmas morning.
Your eyes land on John again, still kneeling. Silly man, putting himself through hurt for you. "Marry us, dove?"
Despite the unfounded hopelessness seeping into your bones. Despite the self-pity drowning you under waves of all you haven't done yet. Despite the agony rippling through your arm to the rest of you. Despite all that, you're answering before he fully finishes his question.
"Yes!"
#cod#poly!141#poly!141 x reader#tf 141#tf 141 x reader#kyle garrick#simon riley#john price#johnny mactavish#nerdygirl says
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