#did i draw this because my knee has been hurting for like a week and a half and it made me think of sokka? yes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

isa-loves-you · 1 year ago

Text

♡Michael Schmidt has a crush♡

You were a sophomore in college, even though you live in an apartment off campus you still visited your mom almost everyday to check on her and to eat.

One night while you were visiting your mom she brought up the people who lived a couple of houses down "the young man knocked on my door this morning, asking if I would or If i knew someone who can babysit his sister at night". The reason why she brought this up is because you were looking for a job, with being a college student you needed the money and nights were perfect since you only have three classes a week. "He's a cutie, he would be perfect for you" you mom called out as she walked into the other room "cute doesn't matter I just need a job".

It's been almost a month since you started watching abby. She was the best kid you have ever babysat for, and she loved you which made your job so much easier.

"Hey y/n, can I ask you a question" "what is it abs" you stopped coloring to look at her. "Will you marry Mike, so you can live here and I can see you everyday"

You were a bit taken back by the question, how did she know that you liked mike?. "I'm really flattered that you want to see me everyday, but I don't think your brother likes me like that" you flashed her a smile to ease the tension but she just shrugged her shoulders and went back to drawing.

Ever since you started watching abby you found yourself infatuated with Mike. He wasn't a very open person but for some reason mike would open up to you, your mom was right he was a cutie.

It was almost midnight until you heard keys jingle and the front door unlock. Mike threw his keys on the small table by the door before looking for you. "Hey I made peanut butter stir fry, do you want me to make you a plate" you asked while already making a B-line to the kitchen."oh no it's okay, I can get it myself you already do almost everything here" you turned to Mike grabbing his arm and pulling him to the table "oh please making a plate is not going to hurt me, now please sit down".

Mike sat down and watched you shuffle around the kitchen to make him some to eat. Mike would never admit to himself but he liked having you around, he loved that abby adored you, sometimes he thimks she likes you more than him. He really wouldn't know what he would do without you, you now became his reason to get up everyday, too look nice, and too be happy.

After mike ate he walked you to your car while talking to you "I get my paycheck tomorrow so would it be okay if you stopped by after class to pick it up?" "Yeah no problem I'll stop by around 6". You stod there justing looking into his eyes, even though Michael's face told a story of a hard life, his eyes showed compassion. You would be a fool to not fall in love with him.

Once you left, Mike got ready for bed. He took the pills he always takes, replayed the tape he always plays, and looked at the Nebraska poster he always falls asleep looking at, but something was different. You were the only thing he could think about before the sleeping pills kicked in.

His dream started out like it always does, his mom spills her coke and tells him to keep track of Garrett. As soon as he sees Garrett in the back of a strangers Cadillac he takes Chace after it. No matter how hard he runs, he can never catche up with the mysterious car.

Mike stops to put his hands on his knees and catches his breath. Giggling. He hears Giggling.

Mike looks back up to now see a field of grass. This wasn't his dream, this is different from his normal nightmares. There in the field stood a happy abby, laughing holding hands with a happier y/n. Mike feels his heart pick up speed.

"Mike!" Abby ran towards her big brother with open arms. Mike catches his sister while y/n walked twords the two of them. He flashes a smile in y/n's direction "I've missed you mike", you kiss his cheak and hug the siblings tight . If he didn't known that this was a dream he would have thought that he died and went to heaven.

"Mike Wake up, I'm hungry". Abby jumps up and down on her brothers bed until she hears him grown,"okay okay abby give me a minute". He stands up and makes his way to the bathroom while abby returns back to the living room where she watches her cartoons and color.

Once mike sets abbys plate in front of her she immediately digs in. "Abby would you be okay if I started to date someone?", the young girl replies without even thinking about it "only if its y/n, she likes you". Mike looked at his sister shocked "well who else would it be, because I like her too" he says trying to play it like he knew this whole time.

It was almost 8 when you entered the house and abby ran up to give you a hug. "Hey hun I'm sorry my class ran later, I tried to call but no one answered" Mike came out of abbys bedroom with a relieved yet anxious look on his face. "Abby go to your room, I need to talk to y/n about grown up stuff" she looks at you with big eye to try to get you to let her stay "it will only take one minute, I'll come in there to say goodnight before I go".

Abby walked to her room with a sad and betrayed face. "Um here's you're payment, you'll be here tomorrow right" "Yeah, couldn't miss it for the world.".There it was, your smile. Oh how he couldn't wait any longer once he seen your million dollar smile.

"I know this might be sudden and very out of line, but could we maybe go out sometime"

You were surprised. "Yeah that sounds great, I would love to" you were stumbling over your words a little bit from being flustered. You two stood there with awkward smiles on your face, if you weren't in his house you would have been screaming from happiness.

"I better go say goodnight to abby before I go it's getting late" you stepped closer to Mike to get to the bedroom. "Y/n '' before you could respond to him, he placed his hand on the back of your ear and placed his lips upon yours.

It felt like a thousand minutes passed by in those five seconds, and you didn't want it to end. It wouldn't have ended if a certain someone spoke up.

"Yay I was right, y/n does like you mike!"

#mike schmidt x reader #michael schmidt #mike schmidt #fnaf #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #Michael schmidt x you

710 notes · View notes

its-time-to-write · 1 year ago

Note

hi sweetheart! i was wondering if you could do a jamie imagine where the reader is a physical therapist and he’s always finding the most ridiculous excuses to go see her, like getting a paper cut and things like that. i would also love if it could be before they got together :)

it’s okay if you don’t want to do it or already did it and i didn’t see it. thank you anyway, you’re one of my favorite writers here on tumblr 🩵

you called me sweetheart, so now I would die for you. pet names are the way to my heart, in case u didn’t know. hope u enjoy🍊

(important disclaimer, I don’t know how physical therapy works so if I’m wrong about things, remember this isn’t a medical journal, I am just a girl)

before you go

Apparently, it’s impossible to purposely give yourself a paper cut, but Jamie Tartt has been doing his damnedest all day to get some kind of ailment, so if that means being careless with some photographs in his locker then so be it.

He really wishes his leg would cramp or something, but Will’s been keeping him far too hydrated for that.

So Jamie has to settle for slipping a picture of his mum at just the right angle to draw blood.

“Shit,” he whispers softly. He puts his finger to his mouth to catch the first beads of blood.

“Paper cut?” Sam asks sympathetically. Jamie nods, finger in between his teeth.

“Ay, sí, you should go see the physio for that one, amigo. Ask for the Rojas special,” Dani says with his ever-present grin.

“It’s just a paper cut, mate,” Jamie says in order to keep up appearances.

Sam knocks his arm. “You have to go. Dani only just let me request the Rojas special last week, and Richard still won’t talk to me about it.”

“Ça c’est merde,” Richard calls from across the locker room. “Put on a bandage and go home.”

Jamie won’t. He sticks his tongue out at Richard and turns to go to the treatment room because he needs treatment right away. Never mind that it’s a cut and not a muscle injury. He can hide under the excuse that Dani sent him.

Jamie taps on the door and pushes it open to find you sitting on the table, absentmindedly tapping your fingers on your knees. You jump down at the sight of Jamie.

“Hi! I was wondering if anybody’d be over today,” you grin. “Where does it hurt?”

Jamie holds up his finger. “Dani sent me.”

“Ah, right,” you nod, grin never leaving your face. Jamie wonders if your sunny disposition is why you and Dani are such good friends. Suddenly, he’s gripped by uncertainty. Maybe you and Dani are morethan good friends. After all, Dani is strangely tight-lipped about his affairs and besides, it’s not good for the physio to be openly screwing a player.

Maybe he should go.

But you’ve already come back to him after rummaging in a cupboard, small box in hand.

“Technically, this isn’t part of my job,” you say as you select a band-aid, “but I’ve been doing this since I started going to my nephew’s footie matches. Kid’s almost ten now, but he still asks for me every time he gets a scrape. First time I was here it was like, force of habit, but Dani said it reminded him of his sister, so…” you trail off. “I dunno, it’s funny that even big strong footballers still want silly bandages, yeah?”

Jamie watches as you open a green bandage with yellow flowers and wrap it carefully around his finger. You press a kiss to it and smile up at him. “There. All better.”

Jamie is… well, he’s flustered. He’s heard about the so-called Rojas special and how it’s available through recommendation only, but he wasn’t prepared for the sweet way you cradled his hand or the fact that your lips touched him. In fact, he wasn’t prepared for anything beyond a bandage and the fact that you slipped sweets to Sam and Dani to numb the sting of injury.

“Thanks,” he chokes out, aware of the fact that you’re still holding his hand. You give it one last squeeze before dropping it.

“See you around,” you say.

Jamie mumbles something unintelligible and finds his way out the door.

“Fuck you,” he says to Sam as soon as he catches him in the car park.

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t get a chocolate. Did you not hold still?”

“I- you- it- fuck you,” Jamie says again. “You fucking knew.”

“Knew what?” Dani asks. He’s a horrible liar.

“You knew I thought she was fit. You didn’t tell me she’s, like, emotionally fit as well. So fuck you both for that.”

Sam mouths emotionally fit as he and Dani dissolve into laughter.

“Which band aid did you get?” Dani asks when he finally regains control of himself. “She ran out of Peppa Pig last week, but she promised to get some more soon.”

Jamie holds up his finger, wishing the cut were on the middle one.

Sam and Dani lean into inspect it and nod once.

“Well?” Jamie demands. They just look at him with stupid grins.

“Good night, Jamie Tartt,” Dani says, opening Sam’s passenger seat door.

“Good night, Jamie,” Sam echoes.

The fuckers just leave him standing in the lot, heart racing like a fucking idiot.

—

Jamie’s ankle is barely twisted. Like, barely. But he grew up watching football so he knows how make an injury seem worse than it is. He’s mastered the art of not going overboard.

“You should see the physio,” Beard tells him. Jamie pretends to protest a little bit, ignoring the way Ted shoots Dani and Sam quizzical looks. They’re making some sort of face and Jamie’s not going to figure out what they mean because he doesn’t care.

(Or maybe he already knows what they mean. But he doesn’t give a shit.)

So he hobbles his way to the treatment room where you’re typing something on the computer. Reports, probably.

You look up with a smile when you see him, the quickly school it into a frown. “Where does it hurt?” you ask.

“My ankle,” Jamie grimaces.

You pat the table and he obliges, sitting down on the crinkly paper.

You squat to undo his boot and Jamie realizes that maybe this isn’t the best way to get you to fall for him but it’s too late now because you’re gingerly sliding it off his foot.

“D’you mind if I get the sock as well?” you ask, and it’s all Jamie can do to mutely shake his head. You lightly run a cool hand over his ankle.

“Feels a bit swollen,” you say. “What happened?”

Jamie has to gather his thoughts firmly away from the way he could feel the callouses on your palm. “Tackle,” he says.

“Hm,” you reply. “Does this hurt?”

Jamie gasps as you press your thumb at just the wrong spot.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you say. “Lie down. I’m going to massage it for a minute then put it on ice. You’ll be good to go in an hour.”

Jamie obeys, trying to ignore the way his breath hitches when your hand squeezes his calf for a fraction of a second.

You’re able to find all the right spots, gently pushing the muscle back where it needs to go. You pat his foot gently and go to get an ice pack. “Keep this on for fifteen minutes, off for five, then on for another fifteen. If it still hurts I’ll get you another pack, or maybe a heating pad. Depends on what type of pain you have, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“You sending me back?” Jamie asks in a feeble attempt to be his usual confident self.

You hesitate. “I mean… the other option is you stay here. I won’t lie to you, it’s pretty quiet back here but it doesn’t smell. Will got me on these scent diffuser packs, so this is one of the least-gross rooms on the lower level. I usually just type reports, but I’ve finished for now so I was going to read but we can chat if you like. You don’t have to, but I can monitor your ankle for the next hour if you’re here. It’s up to you.”

Stay and flirt with the pretty physio or sit on the bench instead of practicing?

Jamie positions himself better on the table. “What’s your book about?”

—

Jamie wishes that he were just making an excuse to come see you, but if that were the case he’d have made sure to be showered. Instead, he’s fresh off the pitch after a long day of practice and he needs his joints like, replaced or some shit.

He stumbles into the treatment room and practically flops facedown on the table. You’re up in an instant, combing his hair away from his face with your fingers.

“Where does it hurt?” you ask, voice filled with concern.

“Everywhere,” Jamie groans.

“Okay, so full-massage with the extra-large ice pack at the end, then,” you say.

Jamie just grunts in response and tries not to think about the fact that this is the most unromantic way he’s ever tried to date a girl. He tells himself that you’re a physio, that you’ve seen grosser, and that you’re not even interested in him anyway. It still doesn’t stop him from asking about your day and cracking stupid jokes the entire time you’re popping his muscles. His voice squeaks every time you forcibly release tension, but you just laugh and tell him, “You should hear Isaac.” So yeah, the worst training of his life has now turned out to be a goddamned blessing in disguise because you’re joking back and forth for a solid twenty minutes.

“Come back any time,” you tell him with a wink as he heads out the door. “You don’t have to be injured to say hey.”

Jamie smiles at that, and goes to tell Sam and Dani that they’re shitheads but he loves them very much.

—

It’s been a long week and an especially long match, but thank fuck it’s over. There’s a bit of an ache in his legs but he doesn’t give a flying shit. They’ve won, for once, so as a reward to himself he’s going to invite you out with the lads. Proper, like, probably with the words, “Hey I think you’re fit,” except he’s thinking he should probably swap “fit,” for beautiful, or stunning, or the most wonderful, funny, amazing woman he’s ever met and no, it’s not just because of the magical healing powers you seem to possess.

Jamie showers, changes, then heads purposefully down the hall. He knows you’re still here, you never leave after matches until everyone who might possibly need physio is gone.

He bangs open the door, ready to regale you with the shit Ted’s up to post-match when he catches sight of your face. Or rather, the fact that it’s in your hands as your shoulders shake.

He rushes over to the desk and turns your chair so you’re facing him.

His hands are on your knees as he urgently whispers, “Where does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t,” you gasp, wiping your eyes. “I’m fine, I don’t know what came over me, I’m good, I promise. What’s up?”

You move to get up but Jamie presses lightly where his hands were resting. “You don’t look fine, love,” he says, then internally winces. Not a good thing to say to a girl, no matter how true it is.

“I’m good, swear down,” you choke. You move to wipe away another tear but Jamie beats you to it, swiping it with his thumb. You shudder involuntarily, trying not to notice the rough feel of his skin on yours.

“I’m not hurt,” he says tentatively. “Came to see if you wanted to go out with me ‘n the lads.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, still trying your absolute best to pull yourself together and failing miserably. “Right. I um, I’m going to be here a while so you should just go, yeah? Tell Dani I’m proud of him.”

Jamie shakes his head. “Ain’t leaving you here all by yourself.” He realizes your hands have found their way into his, and he has no idea who put them there. He lifts one to his lips and brushes a kiss to your knuckles. “Just tell me where it hurts, yeah?”

Another shiver wracks your body. “You can’t- I can’t- you have to go, okay Jamie? I need you to go.”

Jamie will, he’ll do anything you ask, but first he has to know-

“Why?” he asks, so softly. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“Don’t-” you half-choke. “Not- I’m gross right now.”

Jamie can’t stifle his laugh in time, so he does his best to save it. “Love, you’ve seen me at my fuckin’ worst. We’ll call it even.”

You’re breathing a little easier now, but just barely. You don’t seem too eager to get rid of him so Jamie pushes his luck and stays kneeling on the floor.

“Tell me,” he urges again, but you just shake your head.

“You really should go,” you say, breath catching in your throat. “You don’t want to keep Maia waiting. Heard actresses are notoriously particular about being on time.”

That’s confusing. Maia- do you mean Maia Stanwood? You must, that’s the only Maia he knows. But how did you know her, Jamie had run into her at dinner the other day and there’d been a brief article in the papers, but nothing that connects to what’s happening here.

Unless-

No.

Except- it’s the only thing that makes sense.

But you don’t like him like that. At least, he’s pretty sure. And anyway, isn’t it prickish to assume everyone’s in love with him?

But you’re not everyone, you’re the team physio with nice hands and a sweet smile and an affinity to fix people, to mend what’s broken in the best way you know how.

“I love you,” he says instead of everything else he had planned.

You’re silent, and he’s not sure you’ve heard him so he says it again.

“Yeah, alright, I love you too,” you sniff with a half-smile, except it’s the way you’d say to a brother, the way you’d say it to Dani or Sam.

“No,” Jamie says more insistently, “I love you. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to tell you, wanted to take you out proper. Impress you with my dancing and chat you up at the bar. Make the lads jealous that I’ve got a beautiful girl on my arm, then sneak out early to kiss you like I’ve been fucking thinking about since that fucking paper cut. Had a right crush on you like an idiot since you got hired.”

You’re staring at him open-mouthed, unable to believe what he’s saying, and Jamie doesn’t know much all the time but he knows that you’re gripping his hands like it’s a lifeline. He knows your eyes are wide open and that he was on the mark about you thinking he was with someone else. So he does what anyone in his position would do.

He captures your lips in his, letting go of your hands only so he can slip one hand around your waist and another in your hair.

God, you feel like you’re melting.

Jamie Tartt is kissing you like there’s no tomorrow and the floor is tipping out from under you, but apart from that vague feeling all you’re aware of is his hands on you and the fact that he tastes like spearmint.

His lips are soft against yours, mouth warm and inviting.

It’s like taking a breath of air for the first time in months.

“I love you,” you say as soon as you break apart. You’re breathing heavily as if you’re the one who just played a 90-minute match. Jamie’s lips are swollen and your hair is mussed, but you both share the same look.

“All better?” he asks, and you nod.

“Good. You want to get dinner? I know a few places we can go, don’t have to worry about paps.”

“The team-” you begin, but Jamie waves that away.

“They’ll understand,” he says. “Been flirting with you for ages, getting injured all the time. Think Ted’s starting to get fucking worried.”

You run your thumb down his jawline. “I always wondered about that,” you murmur. “Thought it was in my head how much you were down here. Didn’t want to be unprofessional.”

Jamie reaches up to hold your wrist and you just sit there, on the floor of the treatment room, looking at each other in the dim light. You’ll get up, eventually, but for now you’re going to savor this moment you have together.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

588 notes · View notes

hivemuthur · 11 days ago

Text

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 5.

viktorxfemale!reader mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 5,4K

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: Viktor discovers this thing called feelings and doesn't like it. Also a small tw, as he is a bit mean in this chapter. Another also: if you read my other multichapter, you will discover that Angus and Ambrose travel through all my AUs as cameos :') Besides that, I am slowly learning how to phase out the use of Y/N, so with each chapter there will be less and less.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

You sat cross-legged on your bed, absentmindedly picking at the seam of your pyjama bottoms as Sue knelt by the bed frame, painting her nails. You knew you had to tell her, especially after almost an entire week of brooding, miserable sighs, and coming up with new expert ways to avoid Viktor.

“So… it was about him all this time? I should’ve known,” Sue said, her tone analytical, as though piecing together all of your encounters with Viktor since the beginning of the year. When she thought about it with her science brain, it all slotted together seamlessly, though the crease in her brow betrayed her concern.

You gave a small huff. “Even I didn’t know,” you said quietly, though who were you kidding? You knew—you just didn’t want to admit it. The truth was, Viktor’s rejection had been a big blow. Not because you didn’t handle rejection well—you were usually the one doing the rejecting, as frankly, people terrified you most of the time. You felt bad for underestimating him. You had presumed Viktor was lonely and would welcome someone willing to get to know him better.

You’d been oblivious to all the hungry glances he received in the corridors, the girls giggling as he passed by them with his nose in a book. The way people looked at him when he was flushed from alcohol, his accent slurring slightly, occasionally drawing words in his native language.

You were also oblivious to how all those things about him made you feel, and you kept telling yourself you had a special intellectual connection that came before all of that. And it was a terrible lie, because when you thought of him now, the first things that came to mind were his long fingers, the way he formulated sentences, and his long eyelashes.

“Earth to Y/N?” Sue’s voice snapped you out of the palace of your mind. “Have you tried talking to him?”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips quirked into a reluctant smile. “Yes, and it went dandy. He told me he got carried away, and I told him he was a wanker. We shook on it and lived happily ever after.”

“Y/N, don’t do that with me.” Sue placed her hand on your foot, smearing some of her freshly painted nails on the bedsheet in the process. “I’m sorry I left you alone. I didn’t know it was—this big.”

“I’m only telling you about this now because I’m only able to talk about it now. You wouldn’t have been able to do much before,” you said, offering her a reassuring smile. “Besides…” You trailed off, looking down at your hands. “I’m glad at least one of us is happy.”

“What did Hale say?” Sue asked, curious to know what kind of ancient wisdom Hale had stored up for the event of a heartbreak.

“Oh, he doesn’t know yet,” you whined, hiding your head in your knees. “He has a very scary dad side that I’m not ready to unleash just yet.” Seeing the questioning look on her face, you added, “Sue, I can see him in my head going to Viktor to have a chat about hurting the love of his life. I don’t think I can handle that yet. Besides…” You sighed reluctantly. “It’s Hale who keeps telling me I’m the queen of the world when I’m clearly not.”

“Alright, that’s just unhealthy. You are a fucking queen of the world. Not even a month ago you did an impromptu guest star spot in a musical in front of, like, five hundred people.” It was much less than that, but Sue wasn’t very good with numbers. “And seeing you turning inside out over some sad fart makes my skin crawl.”

“Is that what we’re calling him now? Sad fart?” you chuckled despite yourself. You weren’t entirely sold on the “fart” part, but you couldn’t shake Viktor’s sad image from that evening in the lab. The way he’d looked so tired and flinched every time you snapped at him. The way his brows furrowed, and he lowered his eyes. The way he’d tried to stop you, and you wouldn’t let him.

Sue’s hand moved to your knee. “Yes. Sad fart it is,” she grinned at you shyly. “How long do you need before I take you out, shower you in love and compliments, and find you a cute boy to hang out with to make Viktor’s blood boil?”

“Give me twenty minutes,” you sighed, watching Sue’s eyebrows waggle at you.

She didn’t find you a boy, but the two of you got ridiculously drunk that night and danced around in the courtyard fountain to Kate Bush, still in your pyjamas. A few lights in the building flickered on, including the one in the TA’s office—though neither of you noticed. It was obscenely cold, and a security guard tried to chase you down campus as you hid under the workbench in the lab. You returned to your room wet and giggling, minus one of your shoes.

***

A week later, the pub was packed with students blowing off steam before the next round of assignments loomed. You sipped your cider as Hale leaned across you to steal a handful of crisps, Sue laughing at his antics. You’d run into Viktor, Jayce, and Mel, and decided to act like an adult by accepting Mel’s invitation to your group’s usual spot by the fireplace.

“See, Viktor, this is where you go wrong,” Mel teased from across the bowl of breadsticks, wagging her finger at him. “You never give us the gossip. Jayce and I are still waiting to hear who left that very telling mark on your lip.”

Jayce grinned, raising his pint. “Yeah, man. We were taking bets. I was sure it’d be some PhD student. Mel thinks it was a theatre kid.”

Viktor’s smile was tight, his fingers curling around his glass. “I assure you, it’s nothing worth betting on.” He couldn’t think of anything worse happening in this moment.

“Very mysterious,” Mel sang, her eyes narrowing. “Did you actually kiss someone, or did you just hit yourself in a drunken slur?” She pushed too far this time, as Jayce hissed and pressed a hand to her shoulder, signalling her to back off before Viktor snapped her neck.

You smirked, hiding it behind your drink. It was almost satisfying watching Viktor squirm under Mel’s playful interrogation. Almost. But the mention of it “not being worth betting on” made your stomach twist slightly. Before you could think of a cutting remark to add, a voice interrupted.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see a tall, sandy-haired student standing by your group, his expression nervous but determined. You blinked in recognition.

“Angus, right?” He exhaled in relief, probably because he wasn’t prepared to remind you how the two of you might have known each other. Encouraged, he crouched to level with you.

“Yeah. I, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks colouring. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something since Open Days, but I never got the chance.” He hesitated, glancing nervously at your friends.

Hale raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the show. He had learned about the mishap with Viktor shortly after Sue. He’d made a dramatic fuss about being the second to receive the news, swore revenge on the vile "sad fart" who had hurt the love of his life, and promised to keep you safe till the end of his days.

“I was wondering if you’d like to grab coffee sometime?” Angus finished, his voice steady despite the flush creeping up his neck.

Your lips parted in surprise. You glanced at Sue, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. “Sure,” you said, smiling. “That sounds nice.” Actually, what the hell. You could have coffee with Angus.

Angus beamed, pulling out his phone. You gave him your number, aware of Mel’s approving smirk from across the table. As Angus walked away, Mel leaned in. “Finally, someone with taste. Well done.”

You laughed lightly, but your gaze flickered to Viktor. His expression was carefully neutral, but the tension in his jaw was unmistakable. A moment later, he stood. “I think I’ll call it a night,” he said, tapping his cane against the floor. “Leg’s acting up.”

“Aw, come on,” Jayce said. “You’ve only had one drink!”

“Some of us value our health, Jayce,” Viktor replied, his tone dry. “I’ll see you all in class.”

As he was leaving, you caught the stiff line of his shoulders and the slight unevenness of his gait. For a moment, you considered following him, but you stayed put.

Viktor walked back to the dorm, the clinking of his cane against the tile floor echoing in the quiet hallway. His mind was far from the dimly lit pub he’d just left behind. No, it was still wrapped around the conversation, the questions, and that damn mark on his lip. The one that made his heart sink the day he woke up to find it had faded completely. It should have been nothing. Nothing more than a harmless tease from Mel, a drunken mistake he could brush off with a wry smile. Yet, it lingered in his mind, gnawing at him like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

Who left the mark on my lip?

The question had come out of nowhere, but it felt like it had pierced right through the veneer of calm he usually wore. Viktor had been careful, so careful about keeping his emotions in check, about staying distant. But every time someone mentioned the kiss—the touch—it reminded him of something he couldn’t define.

He paused outside his dorm room door, staring at the worn wood as his hand hovered over the knob.

What did I expect?

He had spent years learning to shut off the noise, to keep his focus solely on his work. He had indulged in a few distractions in the past, each one a failure. Yet, every time you were near, it was like something else tugged at him, pulling him off course. It had started with your questions in class, your jokes, the way you always seemed to say just the right thing—or just the wrong thing, depending on how one looked at it. You were the kind of person who got under his skin without even trying, and Viktor hated it.

He entered the room, tossing his coat onto the chair by his desk and walking over to the window. The city lights below flickered in the distance, the sounds of the busy campus fading as he closed the blinds. He sank into the armchair by the window, resting his cane beside him.

Angus.

The thought of him—that stupid student asking you out so casually—caused a familiar tightness in Viktor’s chest. There was no reason for him to feel threatened. He didn’t care about your personal life, didn’t care who you decided to spend time with. Yet, the image of you smiling at Angus—so effortlessly, so innocently—made something shift deep inside him.

The way he’d felt leaving the pub, the way his muscles had tightened when you accepted the offer to grab coffee with Angus, was all so... foreign to him. He wasn’t supposed to care. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything.

But Viktor had learned long ago that desire wasn’t so easily suppressed.

He closed his eyes for a moment, the silence of the room thick and suffocating. His mind wandered back to the pub, to the way you had laughed with your friends, how your smile had lit up the room when Angus had approached you. He hadn’t expected it to affect him this much. He had expected to walk out, let it go, but instead, he’d felt something stir in him—a jealousy, perhaps? But why? You weren’t his.

The stupid part of Viktor wanted to fight back. To make you squirm and run back to him, so this time it would be him who left a mark on your lips and left you to deal with Mel’s questions. He wanted to make your face go flush red as he teased you about how much you’d enjoyed your performance in the lab with Sue. He would push your buttons, tease you out of your mind—but that was it. Keep you at arm’s length.

Stop this.

But the thought only lasted for a moment before his mind drifted once more to you—your strange talents, your sharp wit, the way your eyes seemed to challenge him whenever they crossed paths. You were a puzzle, a mystery he couldn’t solve. And the more he tried to distance himself, the more intrigued he became.

He pushed himself to his feet, leaning on the cane as he crossed the room to his desk, where his textbooks lay open. The distractions were easy enough to find—work, studies, the endless grind of the lab. But tonight, he wasn’t sure if any of it would be enough to quiet the storm raging inside his mind.

***

You carefully adjusted the pipette, trying to focus, but Sue’s chatter kept sending jolts of disturbance through your brain. You were still a bit jumpy, and avoiding Viktor was still a thing. Unfortunately, today was his class.

“Are you going to tell me anything about Angus, hm?” Sue mused, propping her chin on her hand, her voice drifting in and out as she worked. “He has a slight accent, no?” She set her samples down, waiting for a response from you. When none came, Sue’s mind drifted, and she asked an absent-minded question into space. “I wonder where Viktor’s accent’s from.”

You barely registered Sue’s words as you focused on your task. You set the pipette down, your mind drifting to Viktor because of your friend. All you wanted to do was sigh—the man was still a sad fart.

“Czech,” you muttered absentmindedly, tapping the edge of the flask with a frown on your forehead.

Sue blinked, glancing over at you. “Czech? How do you know that?”

You shrugged, your attention still fixed on the exercise. “I have ears.” Your voice was dry, tinged with something sharper. “And he’s got that... all-knowing, ‘life is hard where I come from’ Slavic man attitude.” You snorted, the bitterness slipping out more than you’d intended.

“I guess that makes sense… oh crap, careful!” Sue instantly wished she hadn’t mentioned Viktor at all.

You didn’t have time to respond before you misjudged the tilt of the vial and knocked over the alkaline solution. Your hand shot out instinctively to catch it, but you winced as it splashed across your skin, a burning sensation searing through your palm.

“Shit,” you hissed, immediately pulling your hand back.

“That’s going to burn.” The voice was cold and precise—Viktor, standing directly behind you. You hadn’t noticed him approach.

He stood there, his cane resting lightly against the counter, his amber eyes fixed on your hand.

“Focus and coordination would serve you better in the lab than... ears,” Viktor said, his tone dry, though not unkind.

You winced again as the pain spread across your hand, and you looked up at him, still trying to shake off the surprise. “Great. Just great.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, glancing at the vial you’d knocked over. “What did you spill?”

“This,” you replied, your voice tinged with frustration as you pointed toward the workbench with your chin. “Sorry, I got distracted,” you sighed, feeling defeated.

Viktor’s lips twisted into something like a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Distracted. Of course.” Is it Angus who keeps you distracted? A snarky thought pushed itself into his brain.

He stepped closer, his movements precise as he gently guided you toward the back room for first aid. You felt a twinge of discomfort as you walked, the sting of the burn reminding you of your mistake. Viktor’s presence was unnerving, to say the least, his focus intense as he prepared the supplies.

When you reached the office, Viktor carefully set to work. He adjusted the temperature and beckoned you to the sink. His hands brushed lightly against your skin as he held it under lukewarm water. You bit your lip, trying to focus on anything but the sensation of his fingers on your hand.

“Should’ve been more careful,” he muttered, his voice quiet but firm as he gently dabbed at the burn. You let out an annoyed sigh and rolled your eyes at him. The cool water on your skin felt like a relief, but the occasional touch of his fingers sent a strange, electric shiver through you. It was all very sudden after days of avoiding each other and pretending there was no elephant in the room.

He hummed lightly, continuing to treat the burn with a careful hand. After a few moments, he glanced up at you. “Why weren’t you wearing gloves?”

“I said, I got distracted,” you repeated, your voice quiet and tight with frustration.

Viktor’s lips quirked into a slight smile. “And what distracts you so? Angus? Or is it my accent?”

“Please stop,” you muttered, your pride and your hand both hurting now. “You’re not funny.”

There was a long pause. Viktor’s touch, though still efficient, had softened. His fingers were careful as he applied ointment to your burn, his movements deliberate, as if sensing the shift in you. He applied pressure to the heel of your palm, then gently played with your fingers.

“Why didn’t you wear gloves?” he repeated, his voice lower now, as if the question weren’t really about the gloves anymore.

You glanced at him, feeling oddly exposed, your heart speeding up slightly. You didn’t know why you had answered so quickly before, but now the silence felt heavy. His fingers were too close, too intimate, and his gaze was locked onto yours with an intensity that made the air in your throat feel thick. Why was he suddenly letting his touch linger longer than necessary? After making sure to push you away—no, not push you away, but keep you at arm's length, as if said arm was the length of the equator.

“I—” you started, your voice catching in your throat. You bit your lip, then involuntarily glanced toward his lips—barely a second, but enough to make your pulse quicken. Immediately, you scolded yourself in your mind. Girl, get a grip. But Viktor was completely unreadable. His face remained a mask of calm, yet you could’ve sworn there was something flickering in his eyes. Was it amusement? You couldn’t tell, and it drove you insane.

The silence stretched between you again, gooey, slow, almost suffocating. You dared not look up at him, but you could feel his gaze weighing down on you like a tangible thing. Your mind was running a mile a minute, trying to decipher his motives, his intent, but it was no use. He was too good at hiding whatever was behind that steady, unreadable exterior.

Viktor took a sharp breath and reached for the bandages, and you almost whined at the loss of contact. You hadn’t realized how much his touch had steadied some part of you until it was gone. Viktor smirked under his nose, amused, seeing the way you visibly relaxed when his hands found yours again.

“How did you know I was Czech?” he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and something more playful, like he was enjoying this little game you’d somehow stumbled into.

You blinked at him in surprise, momentarily thrown off balance by his tone. “I... can recognize some Slavic accents.”

Viktor tilted his head slightly, his amber eyes gleaming with an unreadable expression. “And where are you from, Y/N?” His voice had an edge of genuine curiosity, but a challenge lingered in it. Make her squirm.

You raised an eyebrow, masking your sudden unease with a smirk, feeling a flicker of irritation at how easily he seemed to disarm you. You threw him a bait, not realizing it was he who was the hunter. “Guess. I’ll give you three questions.”

Viktor’s eyes lit up, his lips curling into a small, amused smile. He was clearly enjoying himself now, the opportunity to ask something personal laid before him. “Favourite food from home?”

“Pierogi,” you answered without hesitation, though the word felt like a small, sharp confession. You quickly added, “Don’t overthink it.” It was bizarre that you were talking about this now.

His gaze sharpened as he processed your answer. His eyes narrowed just slightly, and a gleam of realization flashed in them. “You’re Polish.” He thought to himself, I should have known.

Your eyes widened in surprise. You hadn’t expected him to guess it so quickly. “Half-Polish. But yes. Impressive,” you said, leaning back slightly, a bit thrown off. “You’ve got two questions left.”

Viktor studied you for a moment, the mischievous gleam in his eyes never quite fading. He seemed to enjoy how off-balance you looked. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he asked innocently, “And who’s your favourite TA?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the questions. You hadn’t expected him to ask something so pointed. “Uh... despite everything, you,” you said, your voice faltering for just a moment. You quickly averted your gaze, trying to mask the sudden awkwardness that swept over you.

Viktor smirked, clearly delighted by your response. “Flattery won’t get you far,” he said, his tone teasing, but there was a softness to it.

You straightened, meeting his gaze again, your expression firm, though you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “I think I’m being honest.” You chose not to elaborate on why, as it was a revelation to you as well.

Viktor’s amusement flickered for a moment, and his gaze softened slightly. He studied you for a few beats, the tension between you palpable as he took in the way your jaw tightened, the slight flush on your cheeks. Then his expression shifted back to something more serious, more gentle—as if he decided to surrender something in that moment. He took your bandaged hand back into his and began tracing circles around your wrist with his thumb.

“Why are you such a pain in the ass for me, hmm?”

You blinked again, clearly thrown off by the question—again. You felt an uncomfortable tightness in your chest. “Why am I... what? What do you mean?” Your voice had a slight edge to it, as if you were trying to mask the unease building inside you. Why would he do that now?

Viktor didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he continued to trace light, lazy circles around your wrist, his touch almost soothing, though the underlying intent was far from that. His eyes never left yours—sharp, testing.

“Don’t play coy,” he said, his voice low, the corners of his mouth curling up. “You know exactly what I mean. Why do you make things difficult for me, Y/N?”

You felt your pulse quicken, confusion and frustration mixing. You tried to shake it off with humour. “You... reap what you sow?” you said, a weak attempt at deflecting.

Viktor didn’t falter, his gaze still steady, his expression unreadable. “Oh, I think I’m well aware of the consequences. But you seem to enjoy making things... complicated.”

Your heart raced, the teasing tone from him sinking in deeper. Without thinking, you pulled your hand away from his, trying to put some space between you, but Viktor didn’t miss a beat. His eyes narrowed, watching you closely as you shifted.

“Are you fucking with me?” your voice was sharp now, your frustration bubbling over. You crossed your arms, not sure whether you wanted to storm off or stay and challenge him.

Viktor’s lips curled into a half-smile, amusement dancing in his eyes. He leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper, the teasing tone still lingering. “Wouldn’t you like me to?” He didn’t break eye contact, watching you with quiet, unnerving intensity.

“You are so full of yourself,” you scoffed, but the stupid part of your brain whispered a wistful maybe that rang in your skull like a bell. You wanted to deflect, but something about him made you lose your grip. “Is that your attempt at being cruel?”

“No,” Viktor said, his voice dripping with poisonous sweetness, each word calculated to make your skin prickle. He closed the distance between you, leaning over to murmur into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “This is my attempt at getting even.” He scolded himself for giving away his intent, but the heat rising within him was stronger than reason. It was anger, of course.

Your breath caught, your pulse quickening as his words slid into your consciousness, the warmth of his proximity undeniable. Viktor smirked mercilessly against your skin, savouring the moment in which he had almost made you fall apart.

“You can now think about how my hands on your skin made you feel, regardless of Angus,” he continued, his voice a low hum, sending a shiver down your spine. “And how your name sounds in my accent that you studied so carefully, Y/N. And what it would sound like in other circumstances… though I think you had a glimpse.”

Your mind spun, his words wrapping around you like a snake. Viktor straightened up, and for a moment, the room felt too small, too suffocating. The air became sticky, and you couldn’t escape the weight of the silence between you.

“You can take the rest of the class off,” he said, his voice cool and casual now, though the teasing glint never left his eyes. “Just don’t touch anything… unclean with that hand.”

“Eat shit, Viktor,” you spat, the words bitter as they left your mouth. You turned on your heel, eyes filling with hot tears, your lower belly tightening into a burning knot. You didn’t dare look at Sue, your emotions too raw. With one last furious breath, you fled the classroom, your legs carrying you down the corridor as you crumbled against the nearest wall, trying to suppress your sobs.

When you finally got there, you slammed the door to your dorm room shut, leaning against it as your chest heaved with unspent fury and helplessness. The small space felt suffocating, your desk cluttered with books and notes, the unmade bed in the corner serving as a silent witness to the chaos inside your mind. You pressed your hands to your face, the bandaged one brushing against your cheek like a quiet reminder of everything that had just unfolded. You pulled it away sharply, staring at the neat white wrappings with a mix of disgust and shame.

Your mind raced, replaying the scene in the lab. The smug tilt of Viktor’s lips. The unbearable warmth of his fingers brushing your skin. The low hum of his voice, so calm and calculated, deliberately needling you until you unravelled. And that final, infuriating smirk—the one you could still feel seared into your memory.

You flinched, a sharp, involuntary movement, as if you could physically shake him out of your mind. “He is so full of shit,” you hissed under your breath, pacing across the room. Your anger surged, hot and unrelenting. “This is just a game to him. Some cruel, twisted game.”

But then the anger faltered, giving way to something more raw and disorienting. Why had he pushed you like that? Why did he say your kiss was a mistake, only to turn around and toy with you like this? Was he just cruel, or did he mean something more? The uncertainty gnawed at you, twisting your stomach into knots. You hated the way your mind kept circling back to him, as if he’d taken up residence there, smug and untouchable.

You slumped onto the edge of your bed, resting your elbows on your knees and burying your face in your hands. The silence of the room pressed in on you, a heavy, suffocating weight. Your chest felt tight, your thoughts spinning endlessly, looping back to the way he’d leaned in close, his words dripping with venom and something else you couldn’t name. Your vision blurred, and you realized your hands were trembling.

When there was nothing left to pace about, nothing to distract you from the storm of emotions building inside, you let out a shaky breath. A memory surfaced, soft and fleeting: your mother’s voice, calm and steady, guiding you through moments like this. You closed your eyes, the words coming to your lips before you could second-guess yourself.

“My heart is full of love and understanding,” you whispered, the mantra shaky at first, then gaining strength as you repeated it. “My heart is full of love and understanding.”

You said it again, and again, your voice steadying with each repetition, the familiar cadence grounding you in the present. But when the words finally felt stable in your throat, you hesitated, your lips parting as something reckless and desperate rose to the surface.

“Viktor’s heart is full of love and understanding,” you murmured, the words trembling as they left you. The sound of his name in your voice felt foreign, wrong, and yet it lingered in the air like an accusation.

Your voice cracked. Your chest tightened. And before you could stop it, a sob broke free, raw and unbidden. It was as if speaking his name had opened a floodgate, releasing the tangle of emotions you’d fought so hard to contain. Confusion, anger, longing—all of it crashed over you, and you doubled over, your face in your hands as tears spilled onto your lap.

The mantra was supposed to help, but instead, it only seemed to amplify everything you’d been holding back. You cried until your breath came in gasps, your body shaking with the force of it. It wasn’t fair—none of it was fair. Viktor had no right to get under your skin like this, to make you feel so small and exposed.

When the tears finally subsided, you sat in the silence, your breath still uneven, your body heavy with exhaustion. You stared down at your bandaged hand again, the edges of the wrappings slightly damp from where your tears had soaked through. A bitter laugh escaped you, quiet and self-deprecating.

“What a mess,” you muttered, your voice hoarse.

You leaned back against the wall, the anger now dulled to a slow simmer beneath the weight of everything else. And for the first time, you let yourself admit what you’d been avoiding all along: you should’ve probed him more. You should’ve insisted, pressed for answers instead of letting him dictate the moment and twist it into something cruel.

The thought was uncomfortable, prickling like a splinter lodged deep beneath your skin. He was probably doing this because he was hurt, and it wasn’t easy to let that idea settle in your mind. But once it did, it sat there, heavy and unyielding, refusing to be ignored.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #the game of teaching body

65 notes · View notes

marysfics · 4 months ago

Text

Here's a small sneak peek for Shifting Glances 2..

Week after week, you see her in the waiting room.

Shifting Glances 1

Angst, Trauma, EMDR, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Comfort, Fluff

In the quiet of the night, as you lay in bed, your voice comes out in a soft whisper, "You know, most nights when I’m lying here like this, I hear the screams inside my head." You curl up slightly, drawing your knees closer to your chest, seeking comfort in the familiar fetal position. "Her words used to cut through me like a knife," you murmur.

Behind you, Alexia shifts gently. She’s holding you from behind, her touch delicate, as though afraid you might shatter if she clings too tightly. She doesn’t need to see the tear slipping down your cheek—she knows it’s there.

Like she understands so much about you now.

She doesn't say anything, doesn't rush to fix it. She lets you exist in the silence, knowing this is how you process the pain. "Sometimes," you add in a voice barely above a breath, "the words hurt more than the blows ever did."

Alexia moves closer, her front pressing gently against your back. The warmth of her body, the soft rhythm of her breathing- it's comforting in a way that words never could be. You feel her chest rise and fall, grounding you, and then one of her hands rests just below your breasts, in the center of your torso. There's nothing sexual about the gesture-it's pure comfort, a quiet reassurance that she's here with you, that she understands.

"I never thought l'd be part of a family" you whisper, your breath trembling as the weight of your confession settles between you. "Let alone start one of my own someday." You can feel Alexia respond without a word, her body tightening around you, her arms holding you just a little closer. She presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck, and in that moment, it feels like everything you needed to say is shared without speaking.

"But after meeting your family today... everything changed," you add quietly.

Alexia breathes in deeply, her embrace tightening as if she can pull you even closer, heart to heart. She's so grateful her knee has been healing these past few weeks, because moments like this-feeling your emotions ripple through your body, holding you as you process it all-are everything to her. Being able to comfort you, to share in your vulnerability, makes her feel whole in ways she never expected.

#woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

87 notes · View notes

ninadove · 24 days ago

Text

AO3 reading year in review 📚

Tagged by @teafig! Here’s a fraction of the fics I enjoyed this year! 💖

JANUARY: Of Wishes and Feathers by @trishacollins {Miraculous 🦚}

Little Felix spends an afternoon being entertained by his aunt.

Trisha wrote this for me because I am the most spoiled girl in the world! 💜 We need more Felix and Emilie in the world urgently. Someone make it your 2025 resolution. I demand it

FEBRUARY: my wings and my eyes by @bittersweetresilience {Honkai: Star Rail 🚂}

Jing Yuan is tired, but he has been tired for a long time now.

Sunny gets February for no reason other than it is Official Shipping Month and its prose single-handedly got me into Renjing. This fic in particular is so loving and tender… 🥺 There is nothing Sunny cannot write and these two idiots have helped prove it time and time again!

MARCH: I miss you more than anything by @sillyangstfic {Miraculous 🦚}

Felix reaches out to Adrien a few months after his mother's death to see if he would like to come visit. Adrien thinks that this is a great idea! Gabriel, not so much.

This was not yet published in March but WHO CARES THE VIBES FIT. Felix cares so much and the Adrien/Dandelion angst is, as the youth say, fire 🔥

APRIL: thirteen by @anna-scribbles {Miraculous 🦚}

The house was never something that belonged to him, and it still isn’t, no matter how many documents boast his name in bold print. Adrien has always belonged to it, though, like a dog tethered to a chain, like a ghost to its unfinished business.

The end of the world began on the day Adrien Agreste turned thirteen years old.

What can I say about thirteen that hasn’t already been said? I picked it for April because reasons, but it’s been a highlight of my entire winter and spring. The Adrien Fic Ever 🌼

MAY: love thorns all over this rose by @thevioletthread {Miraculous 🦚}

there's a boy knocking on her window. she lets him in.

[Doodles a tiny heart on your window]

[Kisses you in front of the sunrise]

[Gets down on one knee]

Alexandria, will you raise a hamster with me? 💜🦚❤️🐉

JUNE: Of Broken Bones and Promises by @bright-thehawksflight {Cyrano de Bergerac 🪶}

Christian had a leg amputated, and the two loves of his life manage to simultaneously save his life, plan for the tough times to come, and pine all over the Arras battlefield.

Lisa is the reference when it comes to Cyrano and Greek mythology fanfics. I think about the amputation-hug scene three times per week 🥺

JULY: Candle In The Wind by @phieillydinyia {Miraculous 🦚}

Someone was screaming. A horrific, guttural sound that infected the entire night with sorrow. He wondered if it was the ghosts of the people he'd just killed. He wondered if they'd come back to haunt him, to follow his every waking move, to never let him forget the way he'd demolished them into dust.c

The sound pounded through his head, threatening to burst open his eardrums, determined to push him to a breaking point. Collapsing to his knees, Chat Noir had to pause to draw in a deep breath.

It was only then that he realized the person screaming was him.

The highlight of my summer! A role reversal AU of the movie that includes the songs. How cool is that. (The answer is very cool. Mwah 💖)

AUGUST: If I hold you too close by @bbutterflies {Miraculous 🦚}

Paris didn’t come to a screeching halt for akumas anymore. They were so commonplace, so frequent, no one stopped their lives unless they were in danger. They trusted the heroes to fix everything if something did go wrong, save them if they got hurt. Adrien was still fighting the urge to find Plagg and go running into battle.

Plagg wasn’t here, though.

ADRINO ANGST MGRRRGRRRRR

SEPTEMBER: Luminous strike by @faiirygrahamdevanily {Miraculous 🦚}

Orders controlled the younger twin

Like a bird with a clipped wing

Silver metal out of his hand

The peacock at the monster's command

MY BIRTHDAY GIFT!!!! THAT CAME WITH ITS OWN MOODBOARD!!!! HELL YEAH!!!! 🎂💜🎉

Everyone should check Clara’s works out!!! The Sentikids are great for exploring themes of otherness and rarer forms of fanworks, and she does it extremely well! ❤️💜💚

OCTOBER: the monster who loves you by @purplecatghostposts {Miraculous 🦚}

Mum nods, clapping her hands together. “Your brother is finally feeling better and is coming home today! Isn’t that so exciting?”

Félix pauses mid-bite, processing her words. Mum waits expectantly, as if expecting him to jump for joy, or his equivalent of it.

But… Félix doesn’t have a brother.

(Or Félix’s brother is a monster, but only in the most literal sense. Félix’s father is a monster despite being very, very human. He learns to navigate the world through these two truths.)

SOAP SOAP SOAP SOAP I am eating you. I am eating you forever. You spontaneously appeared in the tags one day and literally haven’t stopped blessing us since but THIS FIC IN PARTICULAR. OH GOSH. OH WOW. THIS ONE IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE. You know how much I love Adrien being cast as the monster (rawr rawr rawr 🦖)

NOVEMBER: Emmy Altava and the Situationship from Hell by @drowsybadger {Professor Layton 🎩}

Or: Clive, Janice and Their Mutual Ex. Or: Emmy Altava and the Great Year that started off really, really, awful. Or: How To Overcome Your Past Mistakes

Basically, 22K words of people fixing their past mistakes and being lovingly awful to each other. Also, Clive is single-handedly responsible for London rent prices actually being affordable for the next half-century in this universe.

Drowsy infected me with the Clivejan QPR bug… My life has never been the same since…

DECEMBER: Me and You, We're Roses of Blue by @adastra-rising {Miraculous 🦚}

For centuries, the blue rose has represented mystery, royalty, and that which is unobtainable.

Why?

Because the blue rose is artificial. Unnatural. So close to being real, but not quite. The unfortunate, disappointing result of humanity daring to challenge the natural order.

And for some reason, Felix Graham De Vanily can't stop thinking about it.

Meanwhile Kagami Tsurugi, despite everything, thinks they are wonderful.

And Adrien Agreste, who prefers his roses red, is just here for a good time.

(A story in which Felix reflects on his childhood, his relationships, and the nature of what's artificial and what's real.)

(Alternatively, a story where the ideal date is destroying a dead man's property in the name of art, and two cousins who are actually brothers' bond over one truly terrible joke.)

Because excellent characterisation and flower imagery are always a gift! 🌹

SPECIAL MENTIONS

Aka works that didn’t quite fit but that I really wanted to feature:

Icarus by @dragongutsixofficial {Dumas Cinematic Universe ⚔️}

The year is 1630. The Cardinal of Richelieu won. Mme de Fargis is banned and has to leave the Court.

She has a few people to say her goodbyes to.

DRAGON STARTED WRITING AGAIN THIS YEAR AND I COULDN’T BE PROUDER. They have a real talent for emulating Dumas’ style while making the story uniquely theirs! 💖

time marches back by @asukiess {Miraculous 🦚}

The Loveybug AU was one of the highlights of 2023-2024, and this fic? This fic. It’s great, man. Definitely won’t break your heart or anything.

Everything in The Félix Zine! I have a particularly soft spot for @mostmagical’s Bridges and @nemaliwrites’ A Graphite Heart, but everyone slayed so incredibly hard! Please also contemplate our amazing artists’ pieces! 💜🦚

@beezonia’s Miraculous Mons AU. Bee, you know it, I’m the target audience for this universe. I love your ficlets, your team line-ups, your designs, everything! 💙🩵🧡

cringe origional works collection by @isdisorigionalenoughforyou

The kind of poetry that will haunt you. Discovered by accident after reading their Aroace Analysis of Jayvik, which you should also check out! 🦋

And my beloved AO3 collections (recs + my own works):

Tagging… anyone who wants to do this, because I forgot who was and wasn’t tagged by my fellow writer friends. Go wild.

Happy 2025, everyone! May it be kind and filled with excellent stories for us to share! 💚💜❤️

#ask games #reading #fic recs #ao3 #new year 2025 🎉

41 notes · View notes

thatsdemko · 2 years ago

Text

spoiled - c.sainz

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: carlos sainz x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw + not intended for minors + some fluff + established relationship + mentions of unhealthy/toxic past relationships + mentions of fingering (f receiving)

a/n: if you’re the anon from yesterday look away. feedback is always appreciated xx. my requests are currently closed.

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

you’ve never been in a healthy relationship before Carlos. you couldn’t believe the men you dated before him ever even thought they could’ve had a chance with you, because Carlos is constantly raising the bar.

that bar was on the floor when you met him. he held open the door for you and it was like the flood gates opened up, when it was the most basic act any man could give. he’s shocked how you were treated previously, you were the most elegant person who deserved all the love you were receiving and he’s happy to be the one to finally give it to you.

“so those men before me? what did they do?” he asks pushing strains of hair out of your face. you’ve never had this conversation with him, he’s only ever heard bits and pieces of your past but nothing in depth.

“they just weren’t you.” you smile sheepishly leaning in for a kiss, he laughs against your lips before pulling away.

“amor, how can a man ever have treated you so poorly?” he watches you shrug, eyes glimmering in the lamp light of his bedroom. he’s so taken by your beauty it physically hurts him how in love he is.

“do you want me to give you something?” he asks earning you to scoff. you could never accept physical gifts from him, he always wanted to shower you with expensive things, but the love he has given is just enough. it’s more than you could express gratitude for.

“should I be concerned?” you ask resting your back against the mattress, watching him adjust the draw string of his sweatpants before he disappear. you loved seeing him in his casual clothes, more often than not he’s tidied up in a Ferrari polo and jeans you forget he owns sweatpants and a causal white tee.

when he comes back it’s most likely from the kitchen, he’s got your favorite flowers that you couldn’t believe he remembered from months ago.

“my mom always loved these, they have become my favorite too. smell?” you hold the fresh flowers up to his nose and he inhales the scent, “beautiful like you, amor.”

“you got me these?” you sit up taking the bouquet from his hands, immediately going to smell them being taken back to your childhood and that morning with him at the market.

“si, I saw them and thought of you.” he smiles proudly. he loves watching you react to his gifts or the small things he does, because again it reminds him you deserve more than the bare minimum. it’s what he tries to remind you everyday.

“you spoil me.” you toss them gently aside to his night stand, and rise on your knees pulling him by the shirt collar to press a kiss to his lips. he allows you to do so, while he is crawling back onto the bed. your body loses balance falling back against the fluffy mattress, and his body falls against yours.

“it’s the least I can do.” he grits between his teeth pulling at the material of your leggings down, you’re giggling at how needy he is, but you don’t mind it’s been weeks without him you’re also touch starved.

“will you touch me?” you ask nervously biting your bottom lip as you watch his hands run up and down your thighs, leggings tossed to the side somewhere.

“always, amor.” he hates that you have to ask, because he’s always going to make sure to take care of you. he watches your legs spread wide open for him, he can see the moisture glistening in between your inner thighs, “wet for me?”

“only you.” you moan feeling his fingers gently trace your entrance before he enters, a raspy gasp escapes your mouth tugging on the locks of his thick black hair. his finger dance circles inside of you, your body is squirming with pleasure in which you cannot contain, it’s like you’ve never been touched before.

“easy, amor stay still.” his voice deep in his demand you slightly nod your head against the mattress as he adds another finger inside of you and his name escapes your mouth.

“more please.” you don’t need to beg, but you are. he chuckles to himself just how silly you were acting, but god he loved it. he loves watching you squirm under his pressure. he loves it so much he takes his time finding your clit, and when he does his finger circles the bundle of sensitive nerves hearing your moans for his name grow louder.

“what do you want? say it please.” his chocolate eyes are darker than normal, he’s got a playful smirk on his face when you look up at him from the ceiling. his fingers have stopped movement in you until you tell him.

“touch me.” you collapse against the mattress feeling his two fingers finally rub your clit you’re moaning his name once more, “carlos please.” feeling his fingers keep going and your body can’t contain it anymore. your legs are shaking you’re so close to coming.

“please what?” his fingers slip from inside of you and a distasteful groan escapes your lips. how dare he when he knows you were so close to coming? all that good work was built up for nothing.

“get back in there and keep touching me.” you hiss, your demands shock him, but he says nothing and obeys your orders. his fingers are right back to where they were supposed to be all along.

his fingers are met with your sweet cum and he takes the opportunity to lick them in front of you while you lay there, body limp from the experience.

he chuckles moving up the bed so he’s laying next to you now, “you never have to ask for me to touch you.” he presses his lips against your warm cheek about to roll away, but you pull yourself on top of him.

“well then can I touch you?”

“I’ll never say no to that, amor.”

920 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

Text

Don't Speak 22

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: So Tuesday was a mess.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Dr. Kemp leans forward, elbows on his knees as he watches you. Patient, intent, he listens without distraction to every word you say. His attention is almost eerie but only because you’re not used to it. He hangs off of every word.

“I don’t hate Amber,” you frown and hug your legs, only then realising how small you’ve made yourself in the chair, “I love her… I just don’t know if she ever loved me.”

He nods and sits up, dragging his fingers down his chin as he props an elbow on the armrest. He presses his finger against his mouth as he hums thoughtfully. He drops his hand and smiles.

“Are you worried about if she loves you or… are you afraid that you don’t deserve her love? Or anyone’s?” He prompts gently.

You bit down on your tongue. You lower your chin as you think. Your heart plummets deep as your skin tingles hotly.

“Both,” you admit.

“It’s like I said, sweetheart, you have to love yourself first. Then you will see how others can love you,” he drapes one leg over the other, “but we should unpack your relationship with your sister a bit further. We can’t do all that today, but we can start.”

You nod and cup your chin. You make yourself sit up and look at him. You push your feet over the edge and straighten your back.

“Codependency. It’s very toxic. Amber has her flaws, as we all do. What you’ve pointed out about her isn’t out of the question but I don’t know her, I can’t diagnose her. But I can help you draw boundaries and make sense of things,” he explains, “you feel that you were a burden, that you were entirely helpless without her. Did you ever consider she felt the same way? That she attached herself to you because otherwise, she felt useless.”

You look above him and examine the curtain. That’s easier than looking him in the face. You put your hands in your lap and wring them tightly. No, you never thought of it that way because that can’t be true.

“Why… why would she feel like that? I give her nothing. I’m…”

“Now, let’s stop right there,” he raises a thick finger, “what did I say about talking about yourself? Be kind.”

“Yes, Doctor,” you murmur, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t owe me an apology, you owe yourself one.”

You bow your head guiltily. The more you talk to him, the more aware you are of all your bad habits. Isn’t this supposed to help you feel better? Not feel worse?

“It’s work, it hurts and then it feels good,” he says, “but the important thing is that you keep going. You keep the progress up, even if some days we don’t take a step forward, he have to keep looking ahead.” He lowers his hand over the end of the armrest, “I think this week you should write about Amber, try to get your thoughts out. Along with your other homework which is…”

You blink at him and give a dumb look. He smiles, “be nice to you. I want you to write down everything you do all week to that end. Baths, moisturising, reading a book, sketching something, anything that makes you happy.”

“Okay,” you grip your knees, slowly trailing your hands up to tug down the pleats of your skirt. You’re not used to it, you almost forgot you were wearing the thing, “I’ll try.”

“You’ll do great,” he encourages, “you already have done so much.”

🕊️

You're exhausted after the session. Almost despondent on the drive to Andy's as everything Steve said swirls in your mind. A thousand thoughts to add to your already overcrowded head.

"Honey," Andy's voice cuts through your trance, "are you okay?"

"Uh, I'm sorry," you say, stunned to find the car parked in front of his house, his eyes boring into you with concern, "yeah, I'm fine."

"Oh, you haven't said a word," he slides the keys free of the ignition, "and you weren't responding."

"No, no, it's... I was thinking."

"Ah," he nods, hesitating to get out of the car as he hovers his hand against the door, "about... did Steve say something?"

"Um, just about stuff," you reply evasively, "nothing big."

"Well, you now I'm always here for you, right? That you can talk to me too?"

You nod and fake a smile. He's nice and all but you can't tell him everything. You can't even tell Steve everything you put in your journal. Somethings are meant just for you.

"I know," you murmur, "is it alright if I lay down for a bit. I'm really tired out."

"Sure you can, dove," he reaches over you caress the crease of your skirt, "just for a little. You don't want to waste the day."

"I won't," you promise and pull the handle on your door.

You turn and hide your face from him. He's right but it still irks you. Sometimes he can be so bossy. You've done what he wants. You're doing the therapy, so why can't you have one day to just burrow away.

🕊️

You spend your time alone staring at the ceiling, all tied up with Andy’s suggestion. Don’t sleep the day away. Sigh, now you can’t even close your eyes. You’re too worried about doing just that.

After a few hours, you give up, hoping to find some solace in a cup of tea. You can pop out and assure Andy that you’re awake. Maybe you should work on the painting. He must be getting impatient for that as well.

You pull on a loose wooly cardigan, the one with the patch sewn into it, and hide your clingy t-shirt beneath it. You come downstairs and pass the archway of the living room. The TV is lit up with the menu but Andy’s nowhere to be found.

You hear him. You go further down and peek into the kitchen. Something tinkles against porcelain as you watch him pour the contents of a bag into a bowl. There are several set out already, on a neat wooden tray with two glass bottles of soda.

“Um…” you step into the doorway. “I… was going to put the kettle on.”

He looks over at you and smiles. It’s only then you notice his clothing. A pair of thin plaid pajamas and a navy blue sweatshirt. He looks cozy. You’re not used to that. He’s all buttoned-up and tidy.

“Oh, sure,” he says, “I can get some tea out… but er,” he sets the bowl with the rest, “you kinda walked in on my surprise.”

“Surprise?” You wonder.

“Yeah, uh, I was thinking we could do a movie night. Your choice,” he presses closed the seal of the M&Ms bag and puts it at the back of the counter. “I got all these snacks and some soda if you like, but if you want tea instead–”

“Oh,” you bat your lashes.

“Oh?” He sounds nervous as he echoes your syllable.

“I… I wasn’t expecting this. I…” you fold your arms over your stomach, “you really… did all this?”

You tiptoe forward and raise your chin to see onto the tray. He grins proudly as you near and see the assortment of snacks; trail mix, chips, gummies, chocolate…

“Pretty simple but I figured maybe it would be fun.”

You suck your lower lip in and look up at him. His eyes are shining, almost hopeful. He did all this for you. He actually wants to spend time with you. He was even excited about it.

“It’s wonderful,” you say, “I hope… I hope you don’t think I’m ungrateful. Only surprised.”

“Of course, honey,” he slides the tray off the counter, “let me get this.”

He carries the spread across the kitchen and you trail him into the front room. You linger at the threshold as he sets down the snacks on the low coffee table. The room smells of raspberry. You hum at the scent and notice the candle already lit on the table. The lights are dim as the flame lends a flicker to the space.

“Like it?” Andy looks up at your audible sniff.

“Smells nice,” you assure him.

“Well? You gonna just stand there or find something to watch?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you scurry over as he holds out the remote.

You sit on the couch and he drops down beside you. As you sit forward, he leans back, his arm stretched out behind you carelessly. You flick through the title cards of all the movies, intimidated by the endless selection.

“What kind of movies do you like?” You ask, almost embarrassed to choose one yourself.

“Whatever you like, dove,” he says.

It feels like the back of your shirt is moving, just along the bottom. The sensation is so light and you’re too nervous to look at Andy. You put your elbow on your knee and cup your chin. You guess it doesn’t really matter. You choose a title your recognise, not recalling what the movie is about.

“Don’t forget to dig in,” Andy sits up.

“Er, okay,” you put the remote down and take the bottle of soda. You read the label in the low light. It looks fancy. You try to twist the metal cap off but it threatens to cut into your hand. “Ow.”

“Here,” Andy reaches over, “let me.”

He grips the neck and pops off the metal lid with ease. He hands it back to you and takes his own. You thank him under your breath and hover your mouth over the top. You take a sip, the bubbles tickling your nose.

“Mmm,” you hide a cough at the carbonation, “ooh, pretzels.”

You reach for one of the twisted treats. He chuckles as the credits play and he takes a rippled chip. You bite into a pretzel and focus on the screen. He’s sitting so close. You glance over, there’s lots of couch free.

You nibble nervously as the opening scene plays. You focus on the dialogue, not quite picking up on everything. The movie’s much more serious than you expected. You finish a handful of the dry food and wash it down with soda before flopping back.

You squint at the screen and try to untangle the furling plot. It’s kind of boring. You hide a yawn in your cuff and keep your hand to your mouth. The scene shifts and suddenly a bed frame rocks, knocking against the wall as the camera pans down to reveal the two bodies writhing on the mattress.

Oh my! There’s always one of these scenes.

You fight not to close your eyes. You’re mortified as you stare wide-eyed, the room hotly silent except for the activity on screen. You can hear Andy’s breaths and your own. His foot moves as he adjusts his leg and you flinch, almost expecting him to move closer. No, why would he do that?

The scene finally ends. That was torture. Amber always lets you fast forward through those ones. You lean forward to hide your discomfort with another swig of soda. Andy clears his throat but doesn’t comment.

You munch on a mixture of sweet and salty, your stomach squirming. You’re just going to make yourself sick. You recline again, eyes burning and itchy as they threaten to close. No, you don’t want to upset Andy. You can’t fall asleep.

The man and woman argue in the street. You don’t know who would ever do that. Those sorts of conversations are better behind closed doors. You don’t really get relationships; they seem confusing and stressful.

You arch your back, stretching out a kink in your side and a snort from beside you makes you flinch. You don’t look over, not until it comes again. Andy’s shadow sits with its head back, nose to the ceiling as he snores. Oh no, he fell asleep first!

You’re almost happy it’s him. You were so afraid of doing so, fearing at how he might react. You just think it’s funny. This movie really is boring.

You giggle and call his name. He doesn’t react. You call again, “wake up.”

Still nothing. You chew your lip and raise a shaky hand. You touch his arm, poking him with two fingers. You repeat his name. He’s now waking up. You nudge him hard and he slips, first one way then back towards you. Before you can react, he folds over onto your lap.

His weight hits your legs and you squeak. You don’t think as you grab onto his shoulder and try to shake him. He’s so heavy! And big. The difference between you is obvious but even more in that moment. He is immovable, like a boulder crushing you.

“Andy,” you say, “please, wake up.”

He bends his arm and grips your knee, nestling in as he snorts deeper. He must be exhausted. He drove you all the way to therapy and then got all these snacks together for movie night. And now, he can’t even enjoy it. All for you. All his effort spoiled because of you.

You deflate and sink back into the cushions. You kick your legs and try to wiggle free of him. You can’t seem to get out. You surrender and look at the screen. You guess you’ll finish this darn movie.

#fic #don't speak #andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #dark fic #dark!fic #au #library au #defending jacob #series

213 notes · View notes

shortstrawberry · 1 year ago

Text

This line stays in my head rent free. So here's sexy doctor Bela Dimiterescu headcannons.

You have been suffering with knee pain as of late. And headaches. And a constantly clogged nose. Okay fine, your body is doing shit right now. So you find yourself at your most hated place: the hospital.

Last time you visited a hospital, you had to deal with a middle aged dude drolling away his prescription at you. Thankfully this time, you got a young and daresay beautiful doctor, Dr. Bela Dimiterescu.

Unfortunately, Dr Dimiterescu was as mean as she was beautiful. She proceeded to scold you for ten minutes for your lack of vegetables in diet. Hey, it's not your fault vegetables suck. She also proceeded to scold you for drinking only 2 glasses of water per day.

"But I drink 2 big glasses!!"

"Not enough! You need 2 LITRES to live a functional life! God, I don't even want to imagine the smell of your toilet!"

That was a low blow. You'll let it go though. Only because she is such a beautiful blondie.

Dr Bela handed you a two page long prescription, mostly filled with supplements and diet regime instructions. She also insisted that you give her biweekly visits for the next 6 months so she can "monitor" your progress.

"Monitor me, huh? You don't need to invite me to hospital for that, Doc."

You were expectedly kicked out of her cabin for that.

Nevertheless, like a devoted patient, you visited her without fail for the next three months. In the first month, you noticed that Dr Bela barely has any food herself. Being a doctor is hard, considering hospitals often run understaffed. Not to mention, Dr Bela has a habit of taking on work upon herself so that her juniors and colleagues can take a break. Who knew such a hardass can be such a softie?

So for your next visit, you make sure you bring a packed lunch for your favourite blonde doctor. This time, you were the hardass one and refused to be kicked out until she finishes the food that you cooked for her. You know you make a mean adobo, and seeing her moaning reaction at the first bite (hot), you know she agrees.

After this first time success, your audacity to keep Dr Bela Dimiterescu well-fed quadrapled. You visited the hospital again next day but this time dropped the lunch to Dr Bela's nurse. Next day you visited again with lunch and asked the nurse if your favourite doctor ate the lunch or threw it away. Your heart glowed when the nurse said Dr Bela ate the lunch with the grumpiest smile on her face.

In your next visit to Dr Bela, the blonde snappingly asked you to deliver the lunch to her personally if you're so insistent on this "useless endeavour". You wanted to digress about the useless part, seeing how Dr Bela seemed to be less pale then before. But you let it go. You tease the blonde too much and she'll make your next blood test painful.

(She never does. Dr Bela always holds your hand gently when she draws out blood)

In the third month, you find Dr Bela absent in the hospital for your appointment. You get to know that she is visiting her family back in Romania and won't be back until your next biweekly check-in. Disheartened, you turn to walk away, but the nurse has already called in a substitute for you. The replacement doctor was was polite and appreciated your efforts to stay healthy. But it hurts when the new doctor drew out blood.

Next appointment you dutifully show up again, excited to see your grumpy doctor. However, today Dr Bela was decidedly more grumpy then ever. Her jaw was tight and her fists clenched, as if someone has taken away her morning coffee.

"Did you see another doctor last week?!"

You could only blink owlishly at her, nodding in yes. What else are you supposed to say to your regular doctor who is decidedly jealous? Even when you try to explain that hey, "you were not present that time", the blonde doctor snapped even more at you.

"Doesn't matter! Damnit, you could have called me! We could have done a virtual check! You have my number, don't you? You didn't call me, not even once!"

"Wait, I'm allowed to call you?"

"Of course you are! Why else did I give you my personal number for!"

Oh. You did wonder why Dr Bela didn't give you her professional card. Now it makes sense. And now you suddenly feel like a idiot. Thankfully, Dr Bela just rolled her eyes at you, called you a idiot, and demanded to know if you're free this weekend.

Suffice to say, from now on you both have regular checkups outside the hospital.

Got any ideas you want me to write on? Just drop me a request and I'll write it!

(Also a Donna fanfic is in works. Yes, it's the Professor one!)

#resident lover #requests open #donna beneviento #bela dimitrescu #mother miranda #anons welcome #resident evil village #sexy doctor bela

143 notes · View notes

lucy90712 · 11 months ago

Text

Road to recovery- part 8

Masterlist

Part of me was hoping that the hate would slow down a bit but of course it didn't. Every time I checked any form of social media all I saw was people posting about how much they didn't like me and assuming that I'm only friends with Pablo to gain something. I thought I'd be able to handle the comments but I just can't there has been so many more than I thought there would be and people have said such hurtful things about my appearance and my character. Pablo keeps apologising and asking if I'm ok and I just keep telling him I'm fine which is a bit of a lie but I can tell he already feels bad enough I don't want to make him feel worse by telling him how I really feel. The worst part about it is that everyone seems to be drawing attention to the things I was already insecure about which hasn't helped my mental state at all.

Today though I have a chance to cheer myself up a bit as I have a big check up with my doctor to see how my recovery is progressing. I think it's going pretty good so hopefully he agrees and says something positive as that would really lift my spirits. I've been nervous about the appointment today as well which has really made the last few days even more challenging on my mental health but I'm trying to stay positive as I know wallowing in sadness and anxiety won't do me any good.

Alonso came to pick me up a bit before my appointment; when I got in the car I expected him to tease me about everything that happened with the game this weekend but he didn't instead he asked if I was ok. I was going to lie to him too but because he's my brother he knows exactly when I'm lying so I had to tell him the truth. It was kind of nice to get all of my feelings off my chest and Alonso was really supportive and gave me some good advice. He's been through things like this before with getting hate for his performances out on track so he told me to just delete the apps off my phone for a bit that way I'm not tempted to look at what people are saying. In fact he stole my phone and did it for me as I think he knew I probably wouldn't do it myself.

Once I had my phone back I went into the hospital on my own leaving Alonso to wait in the car for me. The wait for my appointment wasn't long at all and then I went in and was immediately taken for some new scans to see how everything was healing. After scans I was subjected to a load of tests on my range of movement, how much weight I could put on my leg and how much pain I was in. The testing was rigorous and honestly quite exhausting as it's been a long time since I've done this much movement with my knee but for the most part it felt good. After I had done everything the doctor left for a while to review it all and look at my scans which left me just staring at the wall hoping to hear good news. Just as I was daydreaming the door opened again and the doctor came back in, his expression was impossible to read which for some reason filled me with a few more nerves.

"Ok Lola things aren't progressing as we would like them too internally you aren't healing as quick as we thought you would and your movement isn't at the range we would expect it to be" he said

"What does that mean?" I asked holding back tears

"For now it doesn't mean too much this can happen as we can't always accurately predict how quickly people will recover but we will set another one of these appointments in a few weeks and if we aren't seeing improvement you may need a second surgery so that we can see what's going on" the doctor explained

"Ok" was all I could manage to say

"I know this isn't what you wanted to hear but don't let it discourage you if you keep working hard you won't need the surgery" he said

We scheduled my next appointment and that was as long as I could hold it together. All of my emotions that I'd been holding onto for the last few days came out all at once, as soon as I left the hospital doors I burst into tears and I couldn't do anything to stop them. I made my way back to where Alonso parked but before I could get into the car Alonso had got out and wrapped me in his arms. He tried to get me to stop crying and tell him what was wrong but I just couldn't he tried everything to help me all of which had worked before but today nothing could stop me. Eventually he gave up and let me get in the car so we could go home because right now all I want is to just go home and get to grips with my emotions as I clearly have a lot to process.

As much as my eyes were filled with tears I could tell that Alonso didn't take the turn to take me back to my place which meant he was going to take me somewhere in hopes of cheering me up. I really didn't want to go wherever it was he was planning to go but I was sobbing too much to tell him to take me home. We went a bit further before the car stopped and I looked round a bit as at first I didn't recognise where we were but then I saw Pablo's house and realised we were just down the street. I should've known Alonso was going to bring me here but this is the last place I want to be I don't want Pablo to see me like this. I knew we said we would help each other out but I know for a fact Pablo is doing better and I know he's in a better place mentally and I don't want to ruin that by projecting my problems onto him that wouldn't be fair.

Alonso had to practically drag me out of the car and down the road which was rather easy for him as I'm not strong enough to put up too much of a fight. We walked down the street to Pablo's house where Alonso left me to ring the doorbell, part of me was hoping that he wouldn't be in even though he said he had no plans today. Of course after just a few seconds the door opened and I locked eyes with Pablo who straight away rushed over as quick as he could and wrapped me up in his arms. I wanted to stop crying but for some reason I only cried more once I was in Pablo's arms it was like he made me feel safe enough to truly let all of my feelings out. Pablo said a few words to my brother before taking me inside and allowing him to leave.

Pablo took me to the sofa and allowed me to settle into his embrace with my head buried in his chest so he couldn't see my tear stained and probably red and puffy face. His hand was gently stroking my back trying to calm me down while he whispered comforting words in my ears. It wasn't anything special what he was doing but hearing his words and feeling his hands on me did wonders in helping calm my emotions which I didn't have any control over. As my tears began to slow down Pablo kept rubbing my back and he even wiped some of the tears from my face that he could reach as I was still hiding most of my face. I never would've thought he would be so good at comforting me I mean he's always so hyper and full of energy I never imagined that he'd be any good at keeping calm and radiating that onto others but clearly he is. Once I had completely stopped crying and my breathing was getting back to normal Pablo put a hand under my chin and got me to look at him.

"Can you tell me what's wrong I hate seeing you so upset and I want to help" he said

"The doctor said my knee isn't healing properly and I might need another surgery if things don't get better" I said still sniffling slightly

"I'm sorry that sounds awful but that's not the only thing on your mind is it" he probed further

"No that's it" I lied

"Don't lie to me please just tell me what's wrong I'll do whatever I can to help and I won't judge you you know that" he said

Damn why doesn't he have to be able to read me like a book.

"Ok I've been getting a lot of hate since we were seen together at the game and it's been getting to me a bit I thought I could handle it as I'm used to criticism but I can't some people are just so mean" I admitted letting a few more tears fall

"I knew it was getting to you people on social media are assholes because they don't feel the consequences of what they say but none of what they say is true" he said

"But they keep talking about how I must be using you or how I don't deserve to even be friends with you which that part is kind of true" I rambled

"No it's not true I can't even imagine what my life would be like without you I love spending time with you just because you aren't famous doesn't mean you don't deserve to be friends with me and despite what they say I know you aren't using me I know you would never do that" he said

"And before you say anything all of the things they say about your appearance aren't true either you are beautiful inside and out and they are just jealous" he added

Hearing him say that put a smile on my face. Pablo has never really complimented me before he's told me my outfit was cool a few times but he's never called me beautiful so hearing it made me feel a lot better about myself. He must've noticed that I was finally smiling again as he told me I looked pretty when I smiled which only made my cheeks heat up but luckily my face was already red from crying so Pablo probably wouldn't have noticed. Although I kind of wish he knew how he made me feel because as time goes on it's getting harder and harder to hide my true feelings from him.

Pablo's POV

The pain in her eyes just shattered my heart. She's been my rock throughout every step of the way so far so to see her breakdown right in front of me really hurt. This whole time she's been the strong one never letting anything get to her but finally it's caught up with her and part of it's my fault because we got seen together at the game and now people are tearing her apart and one person can only handle so much. I feel so awful that I'm part of the reason she's so upset but knowing that I can be there for her and calm her down makes me feel a bit better. When she arrived she was hysterical and her brother told me he couldn't get a word out of her so he wanted me to try so that's what I did. I'm not very good at keeping myself calm at times let alone other people but I tried my best and after a while of just rubbing her back and whispering to her she calmed down. It felt good to be the one to help her because she's done so much for me that anything I can do to even remotely repay that I'll do in a heartbeat.

Hearing the way she criticised herself as well it pained me. She's the most beautiful and kind person I've ever met so to hear her say that she thought she didn't deserve to be friends with me hurt but what hurt more was to see that those horrible people got to her and made her feel insecure in herself. Throughout the time we've known each other I've always wanted to tell her just how beautiful she is but I've refrained as I know once I open the flood gates there's no going back. Once I start complimenting her I'm scared that I'll let my feelings show but today she needed it so I knew I had to take the risk. Seeing the smile that my compliments gave her made the risk feel worth it though as I'd do anything to keep her smiling 24/7.

Looking into her eyes as she smiled and blushed at my words made me feel some type of way. I've felt something for her since we first met and I've kept those feelings repressed until now but I don't know if I can do it any longer. She's just the most perfect girl I've ever met and I don't want to lose her whether that be to another guy or to the fear of what us being friends might mean for her. I have to tell her how I feel in hopes that as long as she feels the same way it gives her a reason to stick around even when things are tough like they are right now. As scary as it is I have to take the risk.

#gavi imagine #gavi imagines #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi imagines #gavi #gavi oneshots #football imagine #gavi x reader #pablo gavi

48 notes · View notes

dagdasgoddess · 3 months ago

Text

Breaking hiatus for a bit ----

So I got this message a week ago, and I blocked this moron, and wasn't planning on responding here, but I feel like I would be doing my friend @jade-green-butterfly, and myself and many of my friends who have been falsely accused of bullshit on this website -- an injustice.

First off all, do you have any idea how serious of an accusation you are making? Pedophilia? And Let me guess, this is over fiction right? I'm gonna go ahead and say it is, because, that's all you people on this site care about, you don't actually care about real victims of CSA.

You are so knee deep in the supposed "rights" of fictional characters, you think that anyone who headcanons/draws/writes your precious "blorbo" --or whatever purile term for the tumblr sexyman du jour is --- in a "wrong" way --- is automatically a problem akin to the WORST CRIMES you can commit.

Jussy has been a friend to me for 5 + years, I've seen the shit flung about her over several misunderstandings, and you know what? Unless you're gonna be coherent and present your arguments to me like a mature adult? I don't care, and I don't wanna hear it.

I've seen the 'proof' you've given me, and it was all over fictional bs, "TRUST ME BRO, I SAID SO" is not a valid argument, and will NEVER be one. Hurt feelings, misunderstandings ARE NOT a ground to spread false rumors about someone.

And any of the other mutuals I have for that matter. *Unless, a real person, child or animal has been hurt, I don't give a shit what someone did with fictional characters, I joined tumblr to reblog art about my FOs and have fun.

This is main reason I've left this website, and in case you've been living under a rock, a lot of people this year, not naming who, but they are indeed quite famous -- have been convicted of hurting REAL kids and people, but you don't care about that, because if you did, I'd be seeing Tumblr in a massive uproar about it, but it never does, it's nothing but performative. I haven't seen a SINGLE PEEP about the real people who were convicted of hurting REAL kids, because that takes real work that doesn't involve sitting behind a keyboard in the comfort of your home.

I advise you to LOG OFF, block jade-green-butterfly and move TF on, and if you genuinely do have worries about someone hurting kids, you contact the appropriate authorities, not bitch about it to their mutuals.

#yeah I'm done with this bullshit #jealous fuckers

15 notes · View notes

diazheartsbuckley · 10 months ago

Text

Fuck it Friday/ Inspiration Saturday ✨

Thank you to everyone who’s been tagging me in this past week, I love seeing your works 🥹 I’ve once again been freakishly busy and haven’t had much time to write. I’m still not doing too great mentally but I’m working through it ™️

Today I had some writing beans for the asthma fic and wanted to share some 💕

Prev snippet here

Buck topples over, his knees and hands hitting the uneven ground, gravel boring into his skin. He digs his nails into the dirt, small pieces making their way under his nails and then he feels a hand on his shoulder. But he doesn’t recognize it.

He lifts his head slightly and shakes it a little because right in front of him… is himself.

He really must be out of it now.

But he’s no older than eight with chapped lips and ruffled hair, gasping for breath like he is right now. A look of panic and pain is written all over his face as he glances to the side, almost if he’s trying to warn him. Buck blinks twice only to see his mirror image pressing a finger against his lips, telling him to stay calm, to stay quiet.

The weight of a child’s hand disappears and is replaced with a much firmer touch, almost gripping onto his shoulder. Fear fills his body instantly and he pulls away, almost losing his balance as he scurries backwards, ahead from the touch. He’s going to get hurt. He did a bad thing. He wasn’t being a good son. He was drawing attention to himself in all the wrong ways. He shouldn’t do that.

“Don’t, please, I’m sorry. I-… I’ll be quiet. Don’t touch me-… Don’t touch me” He scrambles to find his words and to run away. At this moment, he remembers everything.

Every harsh word his father has ever said. Every time that he did something that he shouldn’t. Every time that he couldn’t breathe and his father gripped his shoulders, shaking him and telling him to quiet down. He remembers the pain of his fathers fingers digging into the back of his neck, holding him in place and telling him how much of a disappointment he was. He remembers sitting in the corner of his room, hiding underneath his desk while struggling to breathe. He remembers Maddie’s soothing voice and touch, her warm fingers combing through his hair. He remembers how much he was crying.

And he remembers the instant relief washing over his body as Maddie quietly brought him his inhaler, urging him to use it. And he remembers refusing it, feeling like he deserved the aching in his bones.

“Buck, hey, it’s me” Eddie attempts a different approach, kneeling down in front of Buck without touching him. “It’ll be okay, baby. It’ll be okay. I’m going to take your hand and put it on my chest, so you can feel my heart, okay?” He says but doesn’t get an answer.

He hadn’t expected one but he had hoped for one.

(…)

When he slowly reaches out for Buck, the panic in his eyes doesn’t seem to settle and Buck presses himself further back against the truck, weakly holding up his hands as if to shield himself. “I was bad, I know I was bad. I-… I’m sorry. I’ll be better, I’m sorry” Every word that comes out of Buck’s mouth is followed by a forced breath, an almost inaudible crackle resounding in his chest.

Warm tears are streaming down Buck’s face and gasping breaths mix with sniffing as he tries to compose himself, to apparently be good. He presses his eyes closed and shakes his head aggressively, weak hands holding onto the side of his shirt. It seems to only further restrict his breathing but he does it so that he can be quiet again. He needs to be quiet and he needs to be calm and he needs to be good.

Maybe it would be easier if he just stopped breathing altogether.

Tagged by @tizniz @disasterbuckdiaz @diazsdimples @spotsandsocks @wildlife4life @theotherbuckley @wikiangela @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @cal-daisies-and-briars @daffi-990 @dangerpronebuddie @watchyourbuck 🤭

Tagging!! @giddyupbuck @puppyboybuckley @jesuisici33 @honestlydarkprincess @thewolvesof1998 @butraura @loserdiaz @maygrantgf @elvensorceress @underwater-ninja-13 @loveyourownsmiilee @fiona-fififi @monsterrae1 @steadfastsaturnsrings @extasiswings @spagheddiediaz @nmcggg @buckbuckgoose @evanbegins @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @athenagranted 🦋🩵

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 on abc #buddie wip #the asthma fic #fic: ill kill myself trying and im not scared of dying #fortheloveofbuddie writes #hello friends #I’m here shsjsjskjs

45 notes · View notes

the-bar-sinister · 3 months ago

Text

Deicide: Red Shift (41888 words) by VickytheSnake, thesavagesabretooth Chapters: 10/?

Summary: A mysterious signal is drawing ships across the Grand Line to a place called Elegia for the first ever concert by the rising star singer, Uta. Following the signal are Cross Guild and fallen emperor Shanks, the Charlotte family, the Donquixote Pirates and the shattered remnants of Law's crew, and Kid's crew, and Cavendish and Bartolomeo.

And the Straw Hats and their captain Luffy, who hasn't seen Uta since they were both little children at their idol Shanks' knee.

Perhaps this meeting was ordained by fate. Perhaps, in the end, there was only ever one tragic outcome possible.

But Luffy has other plans.

catch up here

"So uh—I imagine you're upset and confused, Stra—Luffy."

Confused and upset was the beginning of it at least. Luffy had rarely been knocked out of a good mood faster. From the high of seeing his sister again, and almost certainly convincing her to join his crew to…

Whatever this was.

Law was important to him.

If Law hadn't already been a fellow captain, Luffy would have dragged him onto his crew without hearing any argument about it. He was starting to think that he should have done so anyway because Law was apparently mind controlled, or poisoned, or had brain damage or something.

And where was the rest of his crew? Standing around with the Donquixote pirates (only a few of whom Luffy actually recognized, but the rest he could make assumptions on) Luffy saw Bepo… and Komurasaki. He didn't see any of the other guys that Law had introduced him to.

He did see Viola though.

And that was weird.

"I'm really fucking confused, Traffy." He put his hands on his hips, waiting to hear what the explanation would be. He'd dragged Robin over with him when Mingo had sidled up behind Law not because he expected her to be able to go toe to toe with him, but because he trusted her judgment. Robin would know what was going on, and she'd be able to tell him if he couldn't figure it out.

Viola waved at him pleasantly from the other side of the bridge. It was still weird.

Law grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah well—I've had a really confusing couple of weeks. Things weren't exactly going to plan long after we split up after Wano. They kinda went to shit actually."

Robin made a soft 'hmmm' sound beside Luffy, her fingers moving to her chin as she peered up at Doflamingo—was she studying his expression?

"What do you mean by that? Did Mingo do something?"

"I'm hurt, Straw Hat," Doflamingo purred.

Luffy pointed at him. "I'm not talking to you."

This was a disaster. A fucking disaster. Straw Hat thought that—he didn't know, Doflamingo had sunk his ship and brainwashed him or something. Surely that fucking nonsense head of his was thinking up some elaborate scenario where the reasonable solution was his favorite—'punch the bad guy into paste, bang about it after'.

He rubbed his fingers on his temples before he hissed out a sigh and held up his hands.

"Mingo didn't do shit except pull us out of the drink, Strawhat-ya. It's goddamned BLACKBEARD who did somethin' to me!" The anger bubbled up in him like a fountain, his expression hardening as he hissed out. "Blackbeard ambushed us. Blackbeard sunk my sub and probably killed my entire crew. Saki and Bepo are the only ones who were with me when I woke up, fished out of the ocean by Doffy and his gang."

Robin tilted her head. "And—how exactly had you found him, Doflamingo? I thought you were sent to Impel Down."

"Am I allowed to speak?" Doffy drawled, looking imperiously down at Luffy.

Straw Hat shrugged. "Sure, fine, go ahead."

Doffy smiled and held up his hands. "I never made it to Impel Down. I was rescued— thanks to Sir Crocodile, as well as the valiant effort of our own dear Violet. We've been working with Croc's new gig, Cross Guild, since then."

Law watched Luffy look at Robin, probably looking for her to offer any additional information.

Robin's expression softened somewhat, her brow knitting together at the mention of Crocodile. "I see—so you're a part of Cross Guild now. Crocodile's answer to the World Government—I hear they've been doing admirable work."

She glanced up at Violet, who smiled at her and nodded her head, calling out from the other side of the bridge "I happened to notice the Polar Tang while providing recon—and I saw it get sunk with enough time to redirect our efforts towards Law's safety."

"Thanks again, Vi," Law gave her a weak smile before he looked at Luffy again. "They're working with Crocodile and Buggy and Mihawk now—and—-"

He made sure to watch Luffy's expression "Hancock Boa and the Kuja, as well as a bunch more."

Law's calculation had been correct, Luffy's expression softened at the mention of Hancock. He puffed his cheeks out for a moment, and blew out a long, slow breath that rustled his bangs under his hat.

He looked back at his crew for a moment– Law thought he saw him lock eyes with Vivi for a moment, before turning back to him.

"So… alright. So. Mingo never went to Impel Down. And he saved you from Blackbeard. And he's working with Crocodile and Hancock and… and what, Traffy? I thought you hated Mingo so much! You told me about it for like, hours while we were on our way from Punk Hazard to Dressrosa!"

In hindsight, it probably hadn't been his best pillow talk ever.

Law flushed down to his chest at the memory, and he pressed his hand to his face.

"I did hate him, Luffy—but I was angry, I was angry like you've been angry at people before. I'd hyped myself up for revenge for 13 years after I lost Cora—Rosi–--but after winning, I dunno…"

His shoulders sagged slightly "I grew up in the Donquixote family, after I lost my hometown they took me in—gave me shelter, friends, a home. Tried to help me stop tryin' to kill myself. And after I was convinced they were usin' me, and after I lost someone important to me, I let that anger drive me, hopefully I thought at the time, to my death."

Robin hummed under her breath. "Regret is a powerful emotion."

Luffy glanced over at Robin, and then back at the crew again. And then at Law.

"So, you're not mad at Mingo any more." He was quiet and for a moment his mouth was a hard line. "He hurt a lot of people, Traffy. All those people in Dressrosa. Rebecca. You remember Rebecca, right?"

"Of course I remember Rebecca!" Law said, running his hand through his hair with a sharp hiss "and trust me, I've laid into Dof—Doflamingo about it plenty. I'm not letting him pull anything like that again, ever."

And he had– moments when they were alone, he'd absolutely given him hell about it. Lots of threats of 'that's what happens when you go to far, you fucking idiot' and 'you aren't pulling anything like that again'.

"A lot. Rebecca, she deserved better than that shit, the people of Dressrosa? They also deserved better—-but where's Rebecca now, Strawhat?" He leaned in with a thin smile. "Didn't see her with the Strawhats, and I heard she fled Dressrosa."

"She left Dressrosa with us!" Luffy said huffily. "But she decided to stay with Sanji's siblings, I guess, after she met them."

Law watched him chewing his lip, as if chewing the whole thing over.

Doffy meanwhile chuckled. Law knew that Doffy already knew what Luffy said was true. He had been the one who told Law about it. And he'd heard it from Violet, her aunt.

"You mean the army of evil?" Law said carefully. "The army that's committed atrocities the world over as a hired gun for whoever paid top enough dollar? And then there's Alabasta—" he glanced at Robin, who looked briefly down with a soft 'hum' of breath.

Violet walked a little along the bridge with the click of her heels. "Luffy, if she's in range I can check on her and see how she's doing—she is my beloved niece after all."

"Your niece." Luffy bit his lip harder. He looked back at the crew again. "Sanji, you know her, right?" He waved toward Violet. "Is she Rebecca's aunt?"

Sanji stared at Luffy for a long moment, before he looked up at Violet with a suck on his cigarette "I never forget an angel—-yeah, that's the lovely Viola Rik—"

"Violet please," Violet corrected."I left that name behind when I fled home"

"But of course," Sanji dipped into a bow. "That's Violet, of the Riku family."

"Thanks, Sanji." Luffy nodded, and turned back to Violet, pointing at her. "You're Rebecca's aunt and you're here, too, huh? Alright, if you can check on Rebecca for me, that's fine. I'd like to know how she's doing."

Violet laughed into her hand. "I was—inspired by her, and I fled home as well. But I had difficulty abandoning my second family." She gave Doflamingo a lingering look, affectionate even with her slightly muted emotional expression.

Robin chewed her lip thoughtfully for a moment before she murmured to Luffy. "I think we should hold off on the violent approach. I don't believe Law is compromised—but we'll face this with caution."

Luffy slowly nodded.

Violet raised her fingers to her eyes and seemed to concentrate, her eyes opening wide and intense behind the 'focusing lenses' she used to zero in her powers—only something seemed to go wrong.

First her lips formed a sharp frown—and then her eyes widened and pinpricked behind her circled fingers. "I…I…I…"

She stammered, Law had never heard the woman stammer before, she was always so surefooted with her words, but here she was starting to shake and stutter out the same aborted sentence over and over.

"I…I…"

Immediately the whole family turned toward her. Doffy fucking rushed to her side, scooping his arms around her. "Vi? Are you alright?"

"What's wrong with her?" Luffy demanded, staring.

Violet was shaking as she stumbled back into Doffy's arms with a voice filled with blind panic. "I'm blind—" she murmured. "there's—there's something, it's not—"

Law wheeled around with a frown "is she having a stroke? Hold her steady, let me have a look at her!"

"Elegia is—isn't—I can't see—" her eyes rolled back as her fingers dropped from her face as her entire body went slack in a dead faint into Doflamingo's arms.

Luffy whirled around. "Chopper!"

Concern shot through the group like a bullet—Sanji had rushed across the bridge to her almost as soon as she dropped as the Straw Hats and the Donquixotes dropped their feud for long enough to rush to tend to the fallen member.

Law met Chopper in the middle, helping the small reindeer doctor to Violet's side as they began checking vitals. She was out cold, though her body still shook against Doffy's and the occasional murmur broke through the stupor—she sounded scared.

Law was terrified to know what scared the unflappable dancer Violet of the Donquixotes. What was it about this Island—this fucking concert—that could scare the woman who saw everything?

When Violet had passed out everyone had rushed to help. Donquixotes, Straw Hats—there was a tense and temporary truce declared while the doctors went to work. With Violet stabilized and in the care of Chopper and Caesar, they'd taken refuge in one of the empty guard booths on the far side of the bridge.

Her vitals were stable, and Law couldn't find anything amiss— not even a clot of blood that might have sent her into a panic and a dead faint. He'd left her in the care of the two doctors while the Donquixotes and the Straw Hats stared one another down. Things were tense, but—at the very least violence was averted.

It was clear everyone was confused, which was fair. Law knew this whole situation was a stupid and confusing mess. The silence was broken only a few times by some attempts at friendly conversation—which was exactly when Luffy had grabbed him and started to drag him off for a 'chat', while Jinbei was left on what Luffy called 'Mingo Guard Duty'.

They stood now in one of the empty rooms of the guard house—why the fuck was it empty anyway??? Where were the guards?? — as Law rubbed his arm with a grimacing smile. "Hey, Straw Hat…"

Luffy closed the door of the little garret room that seemed to have once been used as some kind of break room. There was a rough wooden table, a couple of matching stools, and a crude wooden bed with some straw and a couple of blankets.

"Hey," Luffy nodded. "So. You're not brainwashed or something."

Law held his hands up. "I ain't brainwashed, Luffy!"

He knew why the guy was worried, sure—there were powers on the grand line that could twist even someone's thoughts—but it was rare enough that he was still a little surprised it was where Luffy's mind instantly went.

"Okay." Luffy nodded, still leaning against the door. "I wanted to make sure because you were really, really fucking mad at Mingo and usually I'm the one who just… stops being angry. People have told me that's weird."

Law laughed sharply. "Yeah, well—it is a little fucking weird, Luffy. But I'm kinda weird too. I…" His brow furrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I wasted a lot of my life just thinkin' about revenge, Straw Hat. 13 years of holdin' a grudge."

"That's a long time to be mad," Luffy agreed, biting his lip. "I don't think I could stay that mad for that long. I'd just burn up."

Law looked up at him.

"Which is exactly what I was doin', Luffy. I was burning up, I'd intended on dying basically as soon as we were done, you know. But you kept me alive—and I dunno. When we were sailing from Wano, I realized how much that fire burned away. Especially when Blackbeard sunk my ship, took my crew from me besides Bepo and Komurasaki, who was only on the crew for a few fucking days."

Luffy looked at him with his big, dark eyes. "You were planning on dying?"

The realization hit Luffy in the chest like a fist. It was just like with Robin. Robin who had never planned on making it out of her last encounter with Crocodile. Robin, who had put Luffy in charge of her life after he saved her.

Maybe he'd realized it in the back of his mind that Law was the same way. Maybe he'd just unconsciously known that he had to keep him close.

So maybe that meant that what Law was going through now was like if Robin had gotten picked back up by Croc. Croc who was friends with Vivi now. Croc who, he was pretty sure, had made up with Robin, too.

And Croc who was apparently working with Mingo.

And Mingo who had apparently saved Law's life.

Law nodded with a wry smile. "I'd been planning on dying since I was a kid, Luffy. Even more so after—after Rosi died because of me. Shit, you know how I met the Donquixotes? Have I ever told you that story?"

Luffy shook his head. If Law had ever told him, he didn't remember it. And with the way Law was talking, he was pretty sure whatever it was was memorable.

Law's smile took on a feral edge as he squeezed his arms tighter around himself. "I'd lost my family to the disease I knew was gonna kill me before I left my teens, my whole town had been killed, and everyone treated me and the marks on my skin like the plague even if it wasn't even fucking communicable."

He mimed pulling something from his belt. "So I'd decided I was going to burn down as much as I could before I died. Ran into the Donquixotes when I'd strapped myself with stolen grenades. Told them that if they didn't take me on and let me cause as much damage as I could before I died, then I'd suicide bomb 'em right then and there."

Luffy felt his stomach lurch again, and his gaze was drawn to Law's hands at his belt, lingering on them before he snapped back up to look at his face. He could picture it, in his mind's eye. It grabbed him by the heart. It made him think of Nami. Of Sabo.

Of himself, in another world.

He remembered the look on Robin's face the first time he met her. And the look on her face at Enies Lobby when she called out to him.

Could Law see that every hair on his body was standing on end?

"What happened?" Luffy asked quietly.

Law seemed to look at him with his dark, long lashed eyes in a way that said he might have—he took a meandering step towards him but stopped and ran his hand through his hair with a thin smile

He took a deep breath before he continued. "Doffy took me in. He took responsibility for me, you know? Sure, he'd said that if I wanted to kill and destroy that badly I could do it in his name, but it was pretty clear pretty fast that he'd taken responsibility for me. I mean—even though I knew I was dying and that I wasn't going to make it past a handful of years, he still cared for me. He still educated me, trained me to be his Corazon in the future, and made sure I had things to live for even when I was sure I was about to die."

Luffy was tempted to go and pull him into a hug right then— but he hesitated. He wanted to know the rest of the story. He thought he knew the rest of the story, but now he felt like he didn't understand it.

"But what about what you told me?" he asked, thinking back to their days huddled together on the ship between Punk Hazard and Dressrosa. "What about Cora-san, and the snow, and your fruit? And how Mingo only wanted to use you."

Hearing about it had made him think of Nami back then, too. Of the room full of maps and the smug, nasty look on Arlong that Luffy had been all too excited to punch right off of his face. Luffy couldn't stand people who used others, who forced them to do what they wanted instead of following their own dreams. It reminded him of his Grandfather.

But now he was realizing he wasn't sure what Law's dream had ever been.

Law grimaced again, and his fingers lingered over his tattoo, that smiling face in the center of his chest.

"I dunno if Cora really believed it, or was just trying to get me out of there, Luffy—but he was a marine. A marine sent into the Donquixote family on the inside to get intel and break them apart. I loved him for trying to save me, but that doesn't mean everything he said was honest."

Law looked down. "It's complicated, but he was convinced his brother was born evil and he'd done everything he could to drive away anyone Doffy took in, Baby 5 and me included. When Cora fled with me, and we went through hospital after hospital—I was desperate, and dying, and when he told me that he found that fruit and that Doffy only wanted it to make himself immortal, I believed it."

"But it… wasn't true?" Luffy guessed. He shuffled toward him.

Everything felt uncertain these last few days. Everything he thought he knew had turned upside down. Shanks was untrustworthy– a man who never cared about him except for wanting to make him into a god. A man who'd abandoned his own crewmate, his own adopted daughter, and lied about it.

If Luffy could be that wrong about Shanks, maybe he could be that wrong about Mingo too.

Yes, Mingo had hurt a lot of people. Hurt people that Luffy cared about, like Rebecca. But Luffy wasn't some pure innocent soul who never hurt people when he was mad.

There had even been that stupid time so long ago when he had been ready to beat the shit out of Zoro.

Who the hell even knew why people did anything? Who knew who was right or wrong, and or who was worth loving and who was worth leaving to die?

The god in his head that Shanks thought was so good and noble had wanted to kill Kaidou. Maybe he should have done it, too, if he was a good, noble person.

But Luffy was not a good, noble person. He was not a hero. He was a pirate.

Luffy watched as Law grimaced and answered him stiffly. "It wasn't true. Turns out the person he stole the fruit from was the guy that Doffy was trying to buy it from— and it wasn't for immortality, it's too risky of an experiment even if he did want it. It's uncertain if it'll work, it needs perfect trust—it's suicide. He wanted it because it could cure me. But Cora got it first and— and then he died, and it convinced me that it was all because Doffy was pissed because his plan failed. So I —I swore revenge."

He threw up his hands with a sharp grin. "13 years of being pissed off due to a misunderstanding fostered by a marine who probably meant well, but drove me against the guy who tried taking me in as part of the family. Made me destroy my relationship with my best friends, Buffalo and Baby 5, and— and for what?"

For what? That was a good question. They'd 'saved Dressrosa', he guessed. They'd returned the doll people to humans, but that was like… that was hero stuff. Luffy didn't actually care about that. Really the only things he cared about were helping Rebecca, which had been accomplished, and helping Law which, he had to admit, even at the time hadn't seemed like it turned out exactly as Law had planned.

In hindsight, Luffy was pretty sure that he'd made a complete mess of whatever Law's plan had been.

But anyway aside from saving Rebecca it had all been a wash.

"I donno," he admitted. "I guess I can see where you're coming from, a bit, Traffy."

"Glad you can at least see it a bit, Straw Hat." Law pressed his hand to his face. "Anyway. Dressrosa's free, right? And Rebecca's running around with the fucking slaughter-brigade for hire made up of genetically engineered mass-murderers, so she's doing well probably—"

He gave him a weak smile. "and Doffy's working with Cross Guild, who really are doin' something important here. Fighting the World Government like only pirates can. And he offered me a place again, even after all the shit I did to him."

Luffy found himself biting his lip. "And you took it, huh? It was something you wanted to do? What about being a pirate captain?"

He was pretty sure he already knew the answer to that, though. Law's crew was gone. They'd been decimated by Blackbeard.

Luffy looked at Law and for a moment he saw Gecko Moria. He saw the Crocodile that Robin had told him about.

He saw himself, shuddering in Hancock's lap in some horrible world where his whole crew had died at Sabaody and Marineford.

And as far as he could tell, Law had never even wanted to be a pirate captain, or to go after the One Piece either. It was just… stuff that had happened to him.

Before Law could answer him, another question– not quite the same– tumbled out of his mouth. "Is being Corazon what you want to do, then?"

Law nodded slowly as he dropped himself on the edge of the bed, fingers tented like they'd been all those years ago on Sabaody. He smiled, though it was tentative—maybe he wasn't sure how Luffy would react.

"Yeah, Luffy—I want to be Corazon. I'd wanted it when I was a kid, and now I've got the chance again. I've got my crew, what's left of it, in my 'army', I've got the family, I've got a dream."

He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "They're good people, Luffy. I ain't given up on getting across the Grand Line right behind ya, but—I'm happy doing it with them, too. Especially since it means I can fix some mistakes."

Luffy shuffled forward across the room and dropped himself on the bed next to Law. He leaned his head on his shoulder. Luffy had been happy for people for chasing way stupider dreams. And he was friends with people who were probably just as bad, if not worse than however bad Mingo was. Hadn't Luffy been so excited to be friends with Jaggy– Captain Kid before they left Wano? And Jaggy's temper was famous, and he was well known for just getting pissed off and murdering people.

If Law said that Mingo and his family were good people, and Law wanted to be Corazon, then Luffy was not going to stop him, or say he was wrong. Even if a little jealous part of him had wished he'd been the one to drag him onto his own crew.

This was what Law wanted. Luffy could tell. There wasn't anything false in what Law was saying.

He nuzzled his shoulder with the top of his head, his hat hanging around his neck.

"Okay. If it's your dream, then I'm happy for you."

Law visibly relaxed—hell, a moment later he grabbed Luffy in a tight hug to draw him close as he laughed with quiet relief. "Thanks, Luffy. This ain't gonna change anything between us, least not for me-– but I'm gonna be happy to introduce you to the gang. I think you'll like 'em when we ain't just fighting our way through 'em."

Luffy wrapped his arms around him tightly, holding him close. "Good! So… we're not going to be enemies, then? I was hoping not!"

It was a miracle. Despite Law's anxieties that Luffy wouldn't come around—that he'd see Law joining the Donquixotes as some kind of betrayal and refuse to see that they were all on the same damn side— Luffy was hugging him tight and seemed to understand.

He smiled a bit, lightly patting the captain of the Straw Hats on the back.

"Tch—course we ain't enemies! Hell, the only reason the Donquixotes were against us in the first place was because shit went sideways, but—we're all on the same side now. And even if we weren't…" He squeezed Luffy tighter and murmured, "Doffy's so happy I'm back he basically does anything I ask. I'd just tell him that we had to make up with ya, or I'd walk… and he'd do it."

Luffy giggled, his arms curled double around him, and it was very encouraging to hear him actually laugh after seeing his serious face and intense stare for so long. "Oh? You've got him wrapped around your finger, huh?"

It was impossible to know what was ever going on behind Luffy's staring eyes—but it must have been good. He was glad, real glad for that.

Law snickered with a nod. "That's right, I do. Poor bastard's down bad, which is good. I can steer him away from his dumber ideas. And—I'll be honest, the whole family's pretty easy to get along with. Baby 5's gotten attached, like 'attached at the hip' attached, to Saki. So if I ask Saki to convince her, she'll be on my side too."

"Baby 5 is the one who was pointing a gun at me?" Luffy asked, blinking. "I don't think I actually met her before, did I?"

"They were all pointing guns at you, Luffy." Law snorted as he tugged at Luffy's hair. "She's the one who turned into a gun. The one who was yellin' to me. You uh—" he thought for a moment. "Might have kept missing her. She's one of Pica's assassins. Sweet girl, we grew up together."

"Pica's the really big guy with the funny voice, right? Traffy, I think you're gonna have to introduce everybody to me again, because that whole day in Dressrosa is kind of a blur."

That was unsurprising, really. Luffy had spent most of the day running around, screaming and punching people really, really hard. His rubbery brain probably did not remember much in the way of fine details.

Law grabbed his shoulders and looked down at him with a laugh.

"Yeah, no shit Luffy. I doubt you remember jack shit about it—so…I'll introduce you around, alright? It'll be fun, just uh—when you see Pica try not to make fun of his voice, ok ? He's sensitive about it and he MIGHT start a fight if you do."

Luffy hesitated. "A good fight or a bad fight? He does have a funny voice, Traffy. But I don't want to be mean to your friend."

"I mean at this point probably just an arm wrestle until you can convince him not to stew about it but—ya know," Law chuckled with a shake of his head. "Everyone's got their peculiarities in the DQ family. Bunch of freaks and weirdos."

Luffy nuzzled him again, climbing halfway into his lap. "Well, it sounds like you really like them. So I'm sure we'll figure it out. And maybe I'll even remember some of their names."

Law flushed, and nestled him more firmly on his lap to wrap his arms around him with a nuzzle to the top of his head.

"I do, we'll figure it out—" he laughed. "Maybe you'll remember their names. And hell…maybe you and Mingo'll get along, huh? He's a huge fan of your sister's, you know. Like, fucking obsessed. That's why we're here."

"Oh yeah! She's kind of a fan of his too, I saw his wanted poster on the wall of her dressing room!" Luffy laughed, and put his hands against Law's bare chest. "Do you think we have time to make out a little, or do we need to go make sure nobody's thinking about killing each other?"

Law was thrown by the first half of the sentence. "She's a fan of Do–" and then the second half hit and sent his face flushing "...."

He smirked , rolling his eyes. "You never change, Straw Hat. I think we got a lil' time before they come kicking the door down."

"Perfect!" Luffy grabbed the waistband of Law's pants on either side of his hips and grinned widely. Typical Luffy behavior. "Oh hey, have you made out with Mingo? Is he a good kisser?"

Typical Luffy question.

Law sputtered , before he grabbed Luffy's shoulders and shut him up with a kiss. He'd answer that—later. When the very fucking question didn't make Law want to implode in embarrassment. Until then he'd stall the best way he knew how when it came to Luffy—amorous distraction.

#lawlu #lulaw #doflaw #monkey d. luffy #trafalgar law #donquixote doflamingo #one piece #one piece film red #film red #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #archive of our own #ao3 #fic: one piece deicide

10 notes · View notes

bl-inkstone · 2 years ago

Text

"when the fire takes and leave me nothing but ash, cup me in your loving palms and make me human again."

a short kaveh thoughtspost about you loving him, burnt edges and all.

i think loving kaveh, for all his brilliance and fancy, is exactly what loving an artist is like.

it's not uncommon for him to come home with tired eyes and aching, reaching limbs honed onto you. most nights, you like to tease him and compare your love to a particularly needy limpet, where not even the crashing waves of alhaitham's annoyance at his "shameless displays of affection" (punctuated by sharp, pointed remarks and long side-eyed glances) are enough to draw him from your side. he says he clings to you because he missed your warmth, and that not even the most potent of electro slimes could ever compare to the amount of energy you give with one embrace. you only laugh in return to his poetic musings with one hand raised to hide your flushed cheeks from sparkling red-wine eyes.

but what is uncommon, however, is the first night kaveh came to you, tired and aching and physically reaching as he always does, but hiding behind halfhearted eyes.

at first, you feared what you believed to be the worst: has he fallen out love? have i been lacking in some way? am i not good enough anymore?

he reached for you and held you, yes, but you could feel just from his touch alone just how distant his mind is from you. were you any weaker, you would've stayed quiet, unsure and hurting, and internalized all of these little unspoken things until the day you could not take anymore and leave behind your heart (your love, and only love) alone in the four walls of his shared home.

but you aren't.

so here you are now, with kaveh near-catatonic on the floor and your anxious, worried hands doing all you can to bring him back to you.

it's been a rough few days, weeks, months for kshahrewar's golden boy, chasing deadline after deadline and just barely maintaining his own self-imposed standard of quality, and kaveh is barely holding himself together. and try as he did to keep such unsightly matters away from you, you've noticed. you always do. and it's the sight of your worried, asking eyes and the sound of your voice flowing through him, "what's wrong, my heart? what is it? how can i help?" that finally breaks him.

he has never denied you anything (not his joy, his company, or his pleasure), and as loathe as he is for his weakness, he won't start now.

so kaveh falls to his knees, strangely disconnected from his body with frustration and fatigue raging in whatever hollow he left behind. he tilts forward when his strength leaves him (when he finally allows it to, after months of pushing more, just one more deadline—) and feels himself physically melt when you catch him in ready arms and hears the steady beat of your heart. his genius is a passionate, fiery thing, lighting the way to grander ventures and innovations that could lead sumeru's tomorrow, but just as all fires do, it burns.

but here, he thinks, in the scorched ground of your embrace that no fire could ever touch, he can rest.

kaveh hates to disturb or inconvenience you in any way — being his lover, he'd often joke with quick, unsure eyes and a crooked smile, is enough work already. but you recognize his doubts as well as you recognize your own. he can't fool you. not about this.

so, you reach down and curl yourself around him, guardian and shelter and lover all at once, and allow him refuge from the burning embers still glowing in the dredges of his beautiful, beautiful mind.

"it's alright," you kiss the reassurance into the crown of his tired head, heavy with the weight of all that he carries with his name as the light of kshahrewar. "take all the time you need, my love. the world can wait for you. rest."

dampness invades the cloth of your robes and you feel them, his gilded tears (always gilded, because everything about kaveh, even his grief, is golden) soak through the skin of your lap.

"i have so much work to do." his voice is a fragile, ruined thing.

"the world will wait, and i will help you. there is nothing you can't ask of me, kaveh."

"you already do so much," he gasps through a stuttering sob. "i will - i will not begrudge you, my heart, if you choose to..."

no. he can't say it. he doesn't want to say it. there's something to be said about the old warnings his elders had about not speaking ill fates into existence, and the fear that he almost did so makes him shake like a battered leaf, barely holding onto his branch, in the raging wind. he shakes and muffles sobs that tear at your heart, hoping you wouldn't hear and think any less of him (because you must, you must, oh, how could he ever show something so ugly to you), and you understand.

"i'm not going anywhere." the words leave you like dew falling off leaves after a storm, and they sting and soothe in the same breath the burns he's hidden for so long.

(am i good enough for you? is all i am enough for you? when my hands no longer hold my pens the same and my words escape me, and the clay has become too hard for me to shape, will you still love me then?)

"i'm here, kaveh. yours, for as long you'll have me, and you're mine, for as long as you'll allow."

forever, then. through the blur of his tears, he raises his head and presses himself, cheek and nose and crown, to your waiting hands like a devout believer laying worship to the first temple that has given him solace in years. forever, forever and ever until the sands of time erode whatever is left of us that loves away.

he drinks in the comfort of your shared silence, basks in the security that even now, at his worst and most unbecoming, you still love him enough to allow him this. his heart settles, slowly, and his mind calms into something less frenzied, less a forest fire, and into something he can recognize as himself again.

kaveh has always loved your hands, endlessly gentle and comforting as they are. he could recognize you blind, deaf, and mute, from the sheer comfort your touch brings him alone. he grasps them in his own calloused fingers and lays soft, grateful kisses to each segment, knuckle, and stretch of skin wound around it. it's these hands that have soothed his physical aches with skin-warmed salves and massages. it's these hands that have calmed his mind in the worst of his passionate genius, running careful fingers through golden strands and reminding him "that the mind can churn and charge all it wants, love, but the body has needs too." it's these hands that have cupped him, left as nothing but ash and bitter tears and dead dirt by his own fiery resolutions, and sculpted him into something human again.

i love you, he does not say because the weight of all the love he feels, both in him and from you, chokes him to silence. instead, he closes his watery eyes and presses himself closer, closer to you, and breathes.

he shakes again in your embrace, but more softly, this time. calloused fingers curl around yours in a desperate bid to keep you close, so much like the stubborn limpet you'd liken kaveh to during nights when the fires hadn't burned him yet, and you understand.

i love you too.

[i may not know much about kaveh, but he is very precious 2 me. i hope i did him some justice with this, and that you enjoyed reading it!]

#miyo.muses #kaveh.togo #ok this was a wild ride but i wanted to write smth short n sweet for him #and this is what came out #im still very much shaking in my boots abt whether or not i got his character right but #i had to fight off the sagau wanderer post and a childe brainrot that came out of nowhere #but i powered through for the sake of pretty dendro man who deserves to be held and smooched #so i can say that im PROUD of this ok #kaveh is honestly so fun and nice to write for #so i might make a part two or just write more kaveh stuff in the future #ok rambling over i hope u enjoyed!#genshin impact #genshin kaveh #kaveh x reader

284 notes · View notes

thesweetnessofspring · 8 months ago

Text

A chapter from the OG Roses and Pearls

My revised version of Roses and Pearls is shaping up to be pretty different from the original, now-deleted 2012/13 version. A major plot point of the Capitol bombing D13 in particular was very different and I thought it would be fun to share the original here.

Some VERY key differences: Peeta hadn't yet completely switched over to the rebellion, and he and Rosalia are still together. I'd changed a lot of the events around, so it came out very different!

Below the cut is the original chapter from Roses and Pearls, unedited and unchanged from how it was written 11 years ago.

Within hours, the attacks start.

Although Katniss promises me no one will get hurt as long as they stay in the shelter, I can't believe it. The walls tremble and vibrations shiver up into my core. I sit handcuffed on the floor of the Everdeen's tent, sick and worried.

"I can't believe she did this," I whisper.

"Really? You can't believe it?" Katniss frowns.

Would I have done this weeks and weeks ago, before I found out the truth, before I became friends with these people here? Yes. I would have. Rosalia still sees Thirteen as the enemy, the way I saw it when I first came here. She thought this would save her, set right what went awry that night on the rooftop garden.

"I guess…I guess I can believe it."

The walls rumble with the impact of another bomb.

"You sure picked a real winner, Peeta." Katniss draws her knees up to her chest and continues scowling.

"She's not…she's—"

"Are you defending her?"

"I'm not approving of what she did, but she's not a mutt like you're trying to make her out to be."

She makes a disgusted sound from deep in her throat. "Not a mutt? She has mutt in her blood from her grandfather, from the Capitol. And she proved that she has it by letting them know about us!"

"She's a prisoner! She's scared! She's been taken from her home, her life turned upside down, and she wants to go back to the way things were before. That's why she told them about us. Don't act like you wouldn't do the same if the Capitol captured you."

Katniss stiffens. "No, I wouldn't. Because the Capitol would brainwash me before I even got the chance, and they'd make me believe in things I didn't."

Her words sting like a slap on the face. She thinks I'm still a puppet for the Capitol. And why would she think any differently? I'm still handcuffed as a prisoner and defending Rosalia. I haven't told her that I remember anything about the past, even the slightest recognition that I loved her.

"I'm not saying what she did was right. I'm just trying to look at it from her shoes. If I thought it was right, I never would have warned you."

She drops her gaze from mine and runs her fingers over the metal floor. I sigh. It feels like we'll never be able to understand each other about this.

"Do you want to go to bed soon?" she asks. "I can make up your bed."

I shake my head. "I won't be able to sleep through the attack."

"Me either."

"Stay with me?" I ask her.

She jerks her head up at me, eyes round. "You remember?"

"Remember what?" I have no idea, but suddenly, I wish I did.

She droops again. "Never mind."

The bombs continue through the night. President White issues one week in the shelter, allowing for the debris to cool and the Capitol to believe we didn't survive the bombs. After that, we'll head out for refuge.

When the bombs cease, I sleep for the first time in over twenty-four hours, so exhausted I probably could sleep through another attack.

I wake up a few hours later, not ready to get out of bed and deal with our situation. I keep my eyes closed, but I notice two people talking in the Everdeens' area. Katniss and Gale.

"Eleven will be able to get us food once we get to Twelve," Gale says.

"The Capitol will try to rein them in first, though. They'll die without Eleven supplying them," Katniss says.

"They're not stupid. Ever since you won and the small rebellions started, the Capitol has stocked up on food. They have a year's worth of it. Not exactly the extent of Thirteen's planning, but still good considering."

"I can't imagine those precious Capitol people eating canned food." Katniss's tone leaks acid.

"Woah, I thought I'm the one who gets to rag on the rich people, while you remind me of your precious prep team and that Effie woman."

"Just because there are some good but confused people in the Capitol doesn't mean they won't complain about their food. And not all of them are so great, either."

I count two breaths.

"What?" Katniss asks.

"You really hate Rosalia Snow."

"Don't you?"

"Yeah, but I think our reasons are probably different."

"Gale, she blew our cover, almost got us killed."

"Besides One and Two, all of the rebellions succeeded and none of us are dead. And anyway, did you expect anything else from her? She's an idiot."

"I don't trust her, and I don't think she's completely an idiot. Peeta…he acts like he's still in love with her, defending what she did. What did she do to him to make him think like that? Why would he love her, even after all of this?"

Did I still love her? A little, I guess. A small piece of me held onto what she'd been to me before, a refuge for the loneliness and pain, someone to make me forget about it all. But we'd grown to apart now, our goals too dissimilar.

"She is beautiful," Gale says. After a moment, he continues, "Well, she is. If you get past her freaky hair, she has a great body, and her face isn't too bad either. Huge lips and big eyes."

"But after everything she did. She can't be that beautiful."

"Look, I can tell you more about what I know as far as the rebellion goes, or we can keep going on about your hatred and Peeta's love for this girl."

"Fine. What else is important?"

"Like I said before, One and Two are still firm in the Capitol's hold. They're sending out back-ups to the other districts from them, because we never had a strong hold of the rebellion there, anyway."

"But Lyme knows Two," Katniss says.

"She does, which is why we had to break her out of the Capitol. Still, she can't do it alone."

"One shouldn't be hard to break, should it?"

"They've been taking up more kids to train as Careers. They practically have their own army now."

"We have all but those two districts. We're going to win, aren't we?"

"We should," Gale says. "But Two will be difficult to crack, and without doing so, we'll never be able to get to the Capitol. They could reassemble and take back the districts again. Just because we're winning now doesn't mean we will be in a few months."

"We've been going so long with this. I just want it to be over."

"I know."

Gale's voice is so understanding, even nurturing, that I can't lay down low anymore. I open my eyes and sit up in bed. Katniss and Gale sit a foot apart, not touching. I rub my eyes, remembering that Gale's married and Katniss told me she didn't love him more than a friend. I shouldn't worry about them.

But I still do, a little bit.

"Good morning. Or afternoon. Nighttime?" I say, uncertain here underground and without my schedule what time it is.

Gale checks his watch. "Afternoon."

"Here, I'll get you some food," Katniss says, standing up to get it.

While I eat, Katniss and Gale don't say anything else to each other, probably because I'm not supposed to know much, in case I spill their secrets to the Capitol in some way.

There's not much to do in the shelter. Most people wander around, visit other people. Delly comes to see us, her cheeks a little flushed.

"I did it," she says once she sits down, but still straight with excitement. "I told Bron how I felt."

"And…?"

She smiles and lets out a giggle. "He kissed me."

I have to admit, I'm shocked. Bron had seemed so distant, I didn't expect him to react so immediately to Delly's declaration. I grin, though, at seeing Delly finally getting what she's deserved for so long.

"What did he say?" I ask.

"That he's liked me for a long time, but he didn't say anything because he knew the war would be happening, and if he died or got hurt, he didn't want me to hurt, either. But once I let him know I was already crazy about him…well, why not enjoy what we have now, right?"

"I told you to just tell him."

Delly nods. "I think it was the bombs that really made me do it. We all might die any day now. Might as well live while we can."

Other people come to visit, mostly for Katniss and Prim. Quite a few young men come for Prim, actually. They all pay her close attention, but most of the time her answers are polite, and not interested. Katniss keeps a close eye on those boys and looms into their conversations to intimidate them. I think she might be doing it to help out Prim, but the way she glares at those boys might prove she has a different motive.

After the fourth day, Katniss asks me, with a sour look on her face, if I want to see Rosalia.

"No," I say. "I'm not ready."

And I'm not. I know what I'm going to do when I see her next. I'm going to take back the ring, once and for all. Not because of Katniss. I still doubt Katniss cares for me more than she cares for Gale. I'm going to break up with her because it's what the both of us need. I don't love her enough anymore. And if she lives through this war, she deserves for someone to love her like I used to. But I'm not relishing going to her and telling her we're done, watching her heart break in front of me and her sobbing. She'll get over me, although it might take a while. And she will find someone else to love her and marry her.

As I fall asleep that night with Katniss's pallet beside mine, I wonder if I'll ever stop loving Katniss like I've stopped loving Rosalia. If I'll move on and fall in love with someone else. Or will my childhood dream always follow me, always come back to me, no matter what brainwashing it goes through?

There, on the border of day and night, I realize what Katniss thought I remembered.

"Always."

This, my whole romantic life, has been made up of two things. Roses and pearls.

Rosalia's love had been a sudden bloom in my life, fragrant and entrancing. A beautiful sight to brighten up a gloomy day. But like all flowers, hers wilted, lost its scent, and died. A brief love affair, considering the whole of my life.

But Katniss was no rose. My love for her started out small, a few speckles of sand. Irritating, a little, with my frustration of being unable to talk to her and her closed nature. But still, I rubbed at it like an oyster. And through it all, the bread, the Games, even this hellhole in Thirteen, my love had transformed into the pearl. Beautiful, rare, and lasting.

Something I'll always treasure.

#roses and pearls #everlark fanfiction

7 notes · View notes