#bc there's people here who will agree and be excited by it and!!!

[chelseeebe]

and they said, speak now

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of cheating. femreader!xeddie. no use of y/n!

a little second chance romance story wherein eddie is invited to your wedding, though he’s hopeful that it’ll never actually happen.

a/n: wanted to get this finished so i could start writing a follow up for too sweet (bc i love it and i love mean asshole eddie) so i hope it bridges some sort of gap while i write :p switches pov a lil bit but it’s all marked out 4 ya.

“-gettin’ married to who?” eddie spits, barreling into the living room with a mouthful of cereal.

steve looks up from the paper invite and shrugs, “mark?” mouthing a quiet i don’t know as robin looks between the two.

“and i’m invited?”

“i mean.. it says all of us so..” he looks up at eddie, “do you even want to go?” dubious at eddie’s overly keen questioning.

eddie’s bewildered that he’d even ask, “‘course we’re fucking going,” shaking his head, still gripping onto his bowl of cereal, “i didn’t even know she was datin’ anybody else.. what the fuck.”

robin shares a look with her best friend, thinking eddie hasn’t seen. he knows exactly what they’re not saying. it doesn’t exactly need to be spelled out for him.

perhaps eddie hadn’t ever really gotten over it. it being you leaving to new york for college, breaking up with him in the process.

maybe they were justified in their judgemental glances, it’d been years since you’d left. he should be over it by now. evidently, you’ve moved on. why hadn’t he?

but he wasn’t and now he’s not sure if he’ll ever be.

-

the five of them shovel into jonathan’s car, robin squished between eddie and steve in the back with their bags piled high in the trunk.

eddie stares out of the window, he had started to regret agreeing to go. his ex-girlfriend, whom he wasn’t exactly over, was getting married to some fuckhead he’d never met and now he had to go and wear a suit and pretend to be happy about it all.

“i still can’t believe she’s getting fucking married,” he grumbles into his fist.

robin grins, nudging her elbow into steve’s ribcage, “oh this going to be so much fun,” elated at his misery.

jonathan sighs quietly, throwing his head back against the seat and slyly turning the volume up so as to not hear any more of eddie’s whining.

there’d been months of it, so he’s not surprised.

-

eddie is fucking elated to reach the hotel, gawping at the grand exterior as they get out of the car, stretching their legs after the long trip.

“jeez,” robin utters, staring at the tall building with her mouth hung open, “at least she’s marrying rich, hey?” wiggling her brows at eddie’s less than excited face.

he doesn’t rise to it, ignoring her obvious attempts to get him riled up.

it’s even nicer inside, gold plated ornaments decorate the walls, outdated paintings of old people he didn’t care to know, joining them.

they’re in the process of checking in when a familiar voice comes from behind, a small, meek, “hey guys!”

it’s you.

they spin, sharing tired smiles as you stand looking horrifically awkward. like somehow you hadn’t shared years and years of history with every single person here.

everyone else gets a short, half hug, exchanging niceties while eddie waits patiently for his turn. he doesn’t think you’ll even acknowledge him.

but your eyes lock, that same sinking feeling that he felt all those years ago as he watched your car pull out of hawkins plagues his stomach.

“hey,” you nod, tense as you open your arms for a hug.

it’s more than he’d ever expected, now finding himself stuck, unable to embrace the situation. you’re exactly the same and yet he feels like he doesn’t recognise you. barely touched by the graces of age, still the same girl he was sure he still loved.

eventually he pulls himself together, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you in.

fuck.

you even smell the same. the heavy vanilla scent of your shampoo wafts through the air, transporting him back in time to nights shared in his cramped room, talking about the future together and how you couldn’t wait to get out of hawkins.

it’s utterly ironic, and not to mention heartbreaking, to think about now.

“hi,” eddie musters, sounding as pathetic as he felt.

the others watch on in anticipation, expecting a screaming match only to be met with whatever the fuck this was. dancing around each other like two complete strangers.

“how.. uh, how was the drive?” you ask, fiddling with your fingers, the way you used to when you were nervous.

“long,” he smiles meekly.

there’s too much he wants to say, desperately wanting to just shake you and ask what the hell you’re doing getting married to someone who’s not him.

besides, four sets of eyes watch both of you eagerly, hoping for an argument or maybe the exact opposite.

“there you are!” a gruff voice bellows, coming out of the mouth of the most insufferable looking man eddie’s ever seen.

he walks over with his shit-eating grin, taking you away from eddie’s grasp, leaving an aching in his fingertips.

your brows shoot upward, sighing softly, “everyone, this is mark.. mark, these are my..” your eyes dip, unable to meet eddie’s gaze, “friends.”

mark’s hand extends towards eddie, grinning like a complete fool as he shakes it. “nice to meet you man! heard so much about you,” his grip tight, squeezing the tired bones in his hand.

eddie wonders if he’s asserting his dominance, if you’d told him who exactly he was. about all those years you spent as his girlfriend. about how he used to make you cum in two minutes. or perhaps all the times you swore that if you had to get married, it’d be to him.

eddie doesn’t count on it.

-

eddie waits. and he waits. and he waits.

pacing the floor of his room, contemplating if he truly had the nerve to stalk the halls to your room or if he’d have to sit here and regret it forever.

fuck it, he thinks. there’s no guarantee he’ll even knock on the door, he just needs to get out of here and at least try to.

eddie’s acutely aware that nothing he says to you will change your mind in fact, he thinks you’ll more than likely slam the door in his face.

but he’s gotta try.

- reader’s pov -

it’s a quiet knock, barely audible as you toss and turn.

you debate even answering, too caught up in your nerves to care about some bridesmaid complaining about her dress or your mother prattling on about the floral arrangements again.

but then they knock again, louder this time though it sounds more unsure, a hesitant wrap of the knuckles, pulling yourself from the comfort of your blanket to see what they wanted.

you hardly register who the person is before immediately wanting to slam the door in his face.

“what are you doing?” you hiss through the small gap in the door, noting that it was somewhere between 11 and midnight.

“i wanna talk,” eddie frowns, carefully wedging his foot between the door, as if you wouldn’t immediately notice.

“we don’t need to talk,” you refute, scowling at your batshit crazy ex.

he sighs, looking around the empty corridor, knowing he shouldn’t be here right now. “can we.. i just wanna talk.. that’s it,” his eyes wide and begging.

you take pity on him, you always did when he had that pathetic frown on his face. like a dejected puppy that needed you to cradle him.

something in your head screams out to just close the door, it’s a terrible idea and you know it.

alas, you pull it open a few more inches, giving him the chance to slide inside before it’s shut again, turning the lock immediately.

if anyone were to walk in, your relationship would be ruined, tomorrow would just be a waste of money and you’d be a social pariah in your circles.

“why didn’t you tell me that you were getting married?”

the nerve to ask that question like he deserved an explanation. you haven’t even seen the man in years and yet, he feels as if he’s owed something from you.

“i didn’t know i had to,” you shrug, standing a few feet away from him, hoping to keep the distance.

eddie scowls, brows knitted into a line across his forehead, “you don’t- i thought we were friends.. friends tell each other those things.”

“you haven’t seen me in years eddie!” raising your voice despite being surrounded by your friends and family. “what gives you the right to march in here and ask me that?” stepping closer with every word, taken aback by his sheer nerve.

his eyes harden, jaw tense, “you left me- you did that and then the next time i hear from you, it’s because you’re getting married? s’that not completely fucked up to you too?”

“i didn’t leave you! i went to college, like people our age are supposed to! it’s not my fault that you’d rather sit in jeff’s basement pretending to be a rockstar,” snarling your upper lip, hoping you’ll hit him right where it hurts.

if nothing else, it’s frustrating. eddie was always talking about his big dreams and how he was going to get out of hawkins once and for all, make something of himself and never look back.

but you got tired of waiting for that to happen. years and years of soon and i’m not ready’s had left you pretty hopeless for any kind of future with him.

he shakes his head, scoffing, “oh? so should i have followed you to new york? watched you change everything about yourself for some asshole?”

there’s a lump in your throat now and weirdly, not a speck of anger. at least not about his words for your fiancé. more so about his complete disregard of your feelings, the dreams you put on hold for him.

“i didn’t.. i didn’t change,” bottom lip trembling, “this is me eddie,” nostrils flaring as you skulk closer, “you just don’t know me anymore.”

“i know you better than he does,” he fires back, adams apple bobbing in his throat. a sincere, honest tone.

it only makes you more frustrated, the audacity to come here and act like this, the day before your wedding.

you laugh in his face, a maniacal cackle, “you’re deluded,” gathering all of your strength not to punch him in the face, “you should leave, before you embarrass yourself any more.”

he’s almost frantic now, grasping the air, “i’m not the one embarrassing myself here. the you i know would never want this.. what happened to that girl who promised to marry me? where’s she?”

“people change eddie! you clearly haven’t!” you hiss, prodding your finger into his chest, hoping you’ll somehow set him alight with your fingertip.

he grabs your hand, keeping it close to his heart as his frown sets in. “tell me- tell me that this is what you want, the big wedding and fucking mark and a coupl’a kids, tell me and i’ll leave,” downturned eyes, begging himself not to cry.

you want to scream, ferociously snatching your hand away from him before you turn away. sick to death of looking into his glossy chestnut eyes. loathing the feeling of your past flooding back into your brain.

a few years ago, you would’ve been certain that eddie was the one you were going to marry. marriage wasn’t something you were ever particularly interested in, your parents hadn’t been the best example. but if it had happened, it would’ve been nothing like this, maybe in the tiny chapel in hawkins, a couple years from now, a small, private ceremony with your friends and family. you’d be lying if you said you had never thought about it.

about what could’ve been.

somewhere, buried deep inside, you longed for it.

eddie doesn’t budge, hearing the sounds of his heavy breathing from behind. you can picture that stupid look on his face, pathetic and sullen as he waits for a fleck of hope.

you turn back, praying that you’ll have somehow found the strength to tell him to leave in the two seconds it takes to face him.

it doesn’t come, the lump in your throat dissipating only to be replaced with a fiery pit in your stomach.

and then a moment, where neither of you have the guts to speak any longer, in what feels like the most intense battle of eye contact you’d ever been a part of.

but it’s over as quickly as it started, both of you lurching forward at the same time, lips crashing together in a hungry kiss, finding the side of his head for leverage as his antsy hands grip your waist.

the rest is just a silent routine, one you two have been through a hundred times before.

your back crashes into the desk, pressed into the wood by his torso. a hand squeezing your thigh as you’re helped onto the surface.

the metal on your fourth finger aches, as if some higher power is attempting to intervene, to stop this mistake before it goes too far.

it’s dutifully ignored, spreading your legs to allow him between your soft thighs. the thin material of your shorts meant that you could feel everything. his cock jumping as it brushes against your heat, low grumbling into your mouth at the action.

his jacket slips from his shoulders and onto the floor, your soft hands running down the length of his arms, brushing against the tattoos you used to spend hours tracing.

eddie’s hands roam your body, between your thighs, tucking underneath the elastic of the shorts as your hips lift in unison, allowing him to pull them down.

his throat rumbles at your lack of underwear, rough denim pressed against your cunt, his erection demanding out of his jeans.

your fingers fumble with his jeans, hearing the low clink of his belt somewhere muddled between his grunting and your melodic pants.

the throbbing between your thighs becomes almost insatiable, finding your own release on the rough fabric of his jeans, sighing into his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip into yours instead.

cold fingers grip your thighs, lifting your legs so that they rest around his waist, clothed cock nudging against your heat, growling into your mouth.

your head jerks back, “my mom.. my mom’s next door..” you pant, fingers trailing over his lips, doing nothing to muffle his raspy groans.

“good,” eddie smirks, hurriedly tugging his boxers down beneath his balls, burying himself inside of your soaked cunt, “i never liked her.”

a strangled moan is all you manage in response, grabbing at the desk for a little leverage as his hips meet the back of your thighs. any anger you felt towards his insults towards your mother quickly float away, turning into static as he slides slowly in and out.

marvelling at the sight of your cunt once again envelopes around him. you’d missed that, his damn near infatuation with your pussy.

the wooden frame knocks against the wall, whatever shit you had compiled for the morning all comes tumbling down, clattering to the floor alongside your long mewls.

eddie near enough melts, fingers melding into one with your skin, filling your cunt to the hilt. a certain feeling that had never been replaced, only achieved by him and his undeniable love for your pussy.

your lips catch onto his, attempting to muffle his hoarse groans, hoping to to god that the walls were thick enough.

“missed you,” he murmurs, half into your mouth, the other vibrating against your chin as your lips connect in the most careless manner.

your eyes flutter shut, chest heaving, pressed to his as your fingers begin to loosen their grip on the desk. his pace unfaltering with utter desperation, an exhilaration he had chased for years, to no avail.

“fuck,” you whine, regretting the shaky word the second it slips out. one arm hooks around his neck, forehead resting against his as his hair begins to stick.

it’s so disgusting, so wracked with desire that you’re sure you’ll be thinking- feeling it for months.

eddie’s cock nudges against against the spot only he could ever find, his pubic bone catching against your clit. fuelling the inextinguishable fire in your stomach, only making it rise into your throat.

with every fervent thrust he’s grumbling something;

fuck, shit, love you, love you.

your legs tremble, exhausted as they sit around his zealous hips. naturally, they tighten, drawing him in closer, an incessant need to feel all of him all at once.

“you can’t.. not inside,” you pant, opening his eyes to meet his though they’re not on yours. staring starry eyed at the space between your bodies, watching as they collide in ways your heart had longed for.

he’s close, you can tell. choking on his breaths when you squeeze around him, signalling your own orgasm.

“fuck, i can’t-,” eddie howls, desperately pounding his cock into your quivering cunt, giving everything away for the last thirty seconds.

you cry out, toppling over the edge as your stomach all but bursts, the pleasure reaching every last nerve in your body. clinging to his neck with a white knuckle grip, clutching his clammy skin as your body turns to mush before him.

eddie just about manages to pull out, sliding between your slick folds before his stomach lurches, shooting thick ropes of cum onto your stomach, thighs and the desk.

your foreheads remain as one, gasping into the hot air that surrounds you.

finally, his eyes trail up toward yours, meeting with the most sorrowful look that a man who has just cum, could hold.

it’s as if reality sets in, untangling your legs to shove him away. harsh and untoward as he stumbles back, still reeling from his own orgasm.

“oh my god,” you mumble incoherently, “oh my god, i’m getting married tomorrow,” clenching your fist, shouting as if he were somehow unaware.

his silence is deafening, his release still clinging to your body as you jump from the wooden table, marching into the bathroom, swallowing the urge to cry.

eddie stands with his head hung low, belt still undone as you sanctimoniously barging back past him to redress yourself, muttering ferocious whispers to yourself.

“i’m getting married tomorrow,” you repeat, unwavering anger in your voice. undecided on whether you were telling him or yourself that fact.

“so you’re still gonna marry him?” eddie asks, a slight hint of optimism in his tone. he had reason to be, you suppose. anyone else would assume the same.

you swallow, “what else is there for me?”

getting married had been the next logical step. you had the job, the house, the sweet, timid guy that wouldn’t hurt a fly. why wouldn’t you marry him?

his face crumples, brows stitched together in confusion, “me?”

almost on instinct, your head shakes, smacking your palm into his shoulder, “no. not you. it’s not supposed to be you,” a certain sadness plaguing your tone, “it was never supposed to be you,” palm slapping into his chest.

eddie’s face falls, holding his jacket in his hands wishing you’d take it back, tell him you were lying and that you really did still love him.

buried somewhere under years of regret, you probably still did.

tears weep out of the corner of your eye, quickly wiped away with your trembling finger. “you need to leave,” eyes pointed to the floor, refusing to look at him any longer.

he sighs, hesitantly stepping around the mess you both had made and out of your peripheral view. slow steps, willing for your mouth to open and those three words to dance out of it.

the door clicks shut and you’re alone again. nauseous and wishing you had just let him stay, wanting nothing more than to be held in your insurmountable feelings of remorse.

-

you’ve barely slept, overwhelmed with a sense of guilt and indecision.

six years of work and making something of yourself had come horrifically crashing down in one night, one stupid, moronic mistake.

but was it really a mistake when your heart still aches and your lips still feel the traces of his.

a short knock breaks you from your trance, the noise you’d been dreading all night.

sarah. bright-eyed and stupidly excitable nature, ready for your wedding day.

“woah,” she remarks, eyes darting around the room you’re just now realising you forgot to clean, “crazy night?” she smirks, eyeing the bottles and pens that had fallen from the desk to the floor.

“oh,” you smile, bile rising in your throat, “i’m just..” clambering for an excuse, “clumsy.”

she scoffs, dumping her bag on the unmade bed, “you don’t have to lie to me,” smile growing, “if you and mark wanna.. break traditions then i’m all for it.”

her wilful innocence makes you feel all the more worse. you’re supposed best friend was none the wiser, bouncing around with a proud smile, ready for your wedding day.

- eddie’s pov -

steve notices something’s up immediately.

dark rings accompanying eddie’s eyes after he had gone missing for hours last night.

“you good?” steve’s hand thwacks against his back, assuming eddie’s manner was all to do with the fact that you were getting married and not that only a few hours ago, he was telling you that he still loved you while you were having sex.

the ride to the venue is quiet, which everyone appreciates, having prepared for a litany of complaints and whining.

the church is even more extravagant than the hotel, resembling one of those castles he’d seen in a fairytale book.

he wants that to make him feel better, that at least he wasn’t the one wasting all of this money on a stupid wedding, but it doesn’t.

because irregardless of how much money you were spending, you were still marrying someone else.

sure, it wouldn’t be a particularly honest nor holy marriage but it’d be a marriage nonetheless. something he would never have with you. no matter how hard he tried.

they file into the pew, sitting slumped against the varnished wood as everyone chatters around him.

concerned heads fly around, the groomsmen rushing up the aisle as they’re beckoned by your bridesmaids.

eddie sits up, looking around at the frantic bridesmaids who were desperately trying to get the pastor’s attention. something’s wrong. he can feel it in his bones.

he throws up a quick two with his fingers to steve before sliding out of the pew, ducking his head down the aisle as he searches for you.

slipping past the worried wedding party, opening a multitude of doors in search of you. hoping that you’d at least made it to the church, that you were okay.

he doesn’t expect to find you in here, holding onto your mouth, mascara stains dripping down your cheeks, curled into the corner with your shoulders shaking. eddie slips in, shoving the broom in between the door handle, ensuring that no one else could find the pair of you.

you spend a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes until you squeak, “what’re you doing?” the most soul crushing tone that makes his heart ache.

“i came to find you,” he says, simply.

because he would, he’d do it in every life.

your palm smears the black stains around your cheek, scoffing at his words. “you shouldn’t have.. i’m fine,” trying to convince yourself more than you were him.

“you don’t look fine.”

your bottom lip trembles, threatening to spill over again. evoking a harsh stab of guilt through his chest. eddie surges toward you, placing his palms over yours, “you don’t have to do this.. we can leave right now,” he assures, searching your eyes. he’d whisk you away in a heartbeat, you didn’t even have to ask. just give him that look.

your nostrils flare, a wail constricted to the back of your throat, trying hard not to alert the hundreds of wedding guests sat just a couple hundred meters away. the dark light of the closet does well to accentuate your tearful eyes, his heart aching with every sniffle, every quietened sob that falls from your lips.

then, you growl, rather forcefully slapping his chest, “this is your fault,” fingers grabbing onto his suit jacket, “why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” frustration seeping out of your words.

eddie doesn’t have an answer, at least not one that would make you feel better.

so he stands in silence, letting you treat him like your verbal punching bag.

“i can’t do it,” you cry, burying your face into his neck, “i can’t.. marry him.”

he nods, stood just before you in this cramped closet, “you don’t have to,” assuredly grabbing your sodden cheeks, streaks of black stain his palms, “we can go.. anywhere you want, right now.”

promising the world because really, it was all he had to offer.

he wasn’t rich, hadn’t figured out how to get the fuck out of hawkins yet but he did know that he loves you and he’d do anything to prove that.

you swallow, averting your eyes to the sparkling ring on your hand, curled into the fabric of his jacket. “okay,” flicking back to his eyes, it’s so simple and yet it knocks the breath from his lungs.

nothing really registers, eddie had planned for more bargaining, certain that regardless of his pleas, you’d still end up walking down that aisle, promising yourself to another man.

“really?” he asks, clarifying for both himself and for you. there was still time for you to pull yourself together and go get married, he wasn’t going to deny you that.

“really,” you nod frantically, “i’ll go anywhere,” tugging at the collar of his shirt, “anywhere with you.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson stranger things

[queenothegeeks]

Awkward creator Drabble

Awkward creator drabbles part 2 

If you have any ideas for characters you want to see, put it in the comments, or send in an ask. (Warning, this was written before Arlecchinos release, so pls be nice.)

After arriving in Teyvat, you had gotten swarmed with letters asking you (the creator) to come to everything under the sun. Plays, meetings, weddings, requests from all sorts of nobel and rich people, but you always declined. Not only because you knew you would freak out and be awkward, but because you didn’t feel like you would fit into that high-end and stuffy air, where everyone is trying to outdo one another, whether it be with their outfits, their hair, their gold and gems, and their property. But what happens when you get a letter you can’t refuse? 

*Arlecchino edition*

When you got a letter that was sealed with the familiar mark of the Fatui, your heart skipped a beat. Up until now, everything had all been from people you didn’t know, and therefore, in your mind, were not powerful enough or important enough to care about going to meet with them. But Fatui, as you know, was not someone you should ignore. But, instead of a message requesting a fight from Childe or a meeting request from the Tsaritsa herself, it was a mere invitation to a tea party the Knave was holding. 

Deciding to respond, you picked up your quill (you still didnt know how to use it properly), you wrote a letter back to the knave, hoping it sounded professional enough, accepting her invite, and detailing how excited you were, while also asking if there would be any others attending that you should be aware of, and if there was a dress code (god forbid you show up in sweatpants to a formal event). 

A few days later, you got a letter back. It stated that you should “wear whatever felt comfortable” (whatever that means) and that it would be just the two of you, along with a few guards, though they were mostly going to be there for show. Obviously, you took “dress comfortably” as a “you must not have a hair out of place” and panicked slightly, worrying about what to wear. After tearing your closet apart, a mental breakdown or two, and a one way therapy session with a stuffed animal a random kid had given you, you set out.

 (Imagine whatever outfit you want, bc i want to remain gn and be comfortable for everyone) 

When you arrived, your jaw hit the floor. “A simple gathering” my foot! You suddenly felt very self conscious, picking at your outfit and nails, feeling out of place. You were led in by a masked guard, who brought you to a room with 2 massive couches, and more food than you could reasonably eat on a table in between them.

“The knave will be here shortly. She thanks you in advance for your patience, she is merely checking the perimeter of the building. Enjoy your tea party” 

They said, quickly leaving the room, presumably to return to their place guarding the building. 

“Thanks, you too!”

Realizing what you said, you were suddenly very glad they left as fast as they did. After waiting for a little while, Arlecchino walked in, not a hair out of place, walking with purpose.

“Thank you for waiting for your grace. I had some…issues that needed to be taken care of.”

“It's not a problem at all!” 

You quickly interjected.

“Pardon my question, but was there a specific reason you wished to meet with me?”

“Do I need a reason to speak with the creator, and thank them for all they have done for this world? Or a reason to hopefully make an alliance?” She said,

“Nononono- not at all. It was just because I know back where I’m from, you would use tea time as a way to get important information across. With the prophecy approaching and everything, I was wondering if that's why you called upon me.” 

“You would be correct. I’ll admit, I was a bit surprised you agreed to meet with me, considering you haven’t met with anyone else, no matter how important.”

You tensed a bit, not liking her tone. It wasn’t threatening, but it seemed like she knew more about you than the fact you hadn’t met with other people. Wait a minute…how did she know that?

“How did you know that?”

“Know what?”

“You said I haven't met anyone else. You aren’t wrong, I haven’t. But the public doesn’t know that. In fact, one glance at any newspaper, and it's boasting about how “the creator themself was there”.  

You started to ramble, your brain not worrying about being high end or fancy. The only thing on your mind was piecing together the information, just like how you would whenever a new genshin trailer or quest would come out. 

“The only way you would have the truth would be if you were hella good at catching someone in a lie or just calling bs, which I know you are, or that you assigned people to watch me, which, using the information I have about you based on stuff from my world, wouldn’t be that far off. The House of the Hearth is very versatile, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to say you could implant your children, and- you're smiling.” 

“I didn’t truly know if you hadn’t met with anyone else. I was mostly seeing if you would reveal any information about these nobel’s if you had, if you were any good at lying that you had or hadn't gone, or, seeing if you would reveal things you knew about me, thereby showing the extent of your knowledge about this world and its people. Now, back to the topic from before, now that I know you are aware of who I am, tell me, what's going to happen to Fontaine, and how do I save it?”

Oh sh*t. 

#genshin impact #arlecchino genshin #sagau #sagau brainrot #the brainrot is real #self aware genshin

[sundayinthcpark]

wild how being active on tumblr means i actually have tumblr notifs

#usually i am a reblogger and i reblogged like. the west wing #but recently i’ve started like. actually saying things and posting original thoughts and shit like that #(listen it took me like three years of being on here to understand how the tags worked. that might be bc i originally joined in 6th grade.) #anyway #but now i like ask neil gaiman questions and i post my aziracrow headcanons and my reviews of films from the 90s and a live-blogged watch of #doctor who #and people actually interact with it !!! and like then sometimes they find my older posts too and then i get excited because oh yeah i did #say something cool about kingsman that one time !!! look at me go !!! i am so glad to see you agree can we please talk about this more ??? #anyway this is fun #luke rambles

[moon-rivr]

Every day I wake up and want Miguel O’Hara, a man who can cherish me with all my heart but also fuck my brains and yk what so hard to the point it’s mush /j

That aside, I’d looove to see jealous Miggy railing the shit out of Y/N all bc an old classmate from high school/uni was all being handsy and Miguel didn’t like that bc he didn’t get the hint 😏

celoso

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: situationship, jealousy, mentions of verbal abuse, reader gets pinned against wall, semi-public sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, biting, marking, unprotected p in v (be safe 🤨🤨), doggy, brief choking, spanking

a/n: so i was thinking of making this into a relationship fic buttt my hand slipped (whoops)

word count: 4.3K

"Wey, you're gonna end up breaking that cup."

Miguel looked down at the glass of champagne he was holding, his knuckles starting to turn white from how forcefully he was holding it. He couldn't help it though, especially with the way Flash wrapped his hand around your waist while he made you laugh. "Not like they don't have more cups," he responded, looking back over to his brother who had a knowing smile on his face. "I don't get it, you both like each other so why not pursue something?" Gabriel asked him, the same question that had been tormenting Miguel these last couple weeks.

The only reason that Miguel had even agreed to come back to the reunion was because of the way that you looked at him, clearly excited to see how everyone's life had been going so far. He didn't care that much about the people that used him for test answers but he wouldn't miss the opportunity to spend some time with you. "We wouldn't be seen together but as long as the two of us know we're there together then who really cares?" You had told him, his plans wrecked by the bomb you'd dropped. He ended up going to the event regardless because no matter how hard he tried, he could never find it in him to deny you anything.

Flashing disco lights mixed with the loud music was supposed to provide an ambiance full of enjoyment but it did nothing more than just torment Miguel. He hated the fact that his eyes seemed to find you in every room you were in without putting in much effort like a siren capturing its prey. All the event did was remind him that he no right to be feeling possessive over you, that he had no authority to be feeling jealous at some other man having his hands all over you.

He knew that you didn't want to pursue a relationship, but he couldn't help the feelings that he'd developed towards you. So in attempt just to have you present in his life, he'd agreed to keep this no-strings fling with you. The lines kept blurring every so often though, with the two of you going on dates and being each other's confidant. He was moderately happy with the arrangement that the two of you shared, but seeing you getting so comfortable with another man made him wish that he had the balls to ask you for something more.

"We're both fine with the no-strings thing we have going on," Miguel told him, loosening his grip on the cup before taking a sip. Gabriel raised a brow as he reached over to grab a champagne glass from the table. "Ya estas muy viejo para andar con estas mamadas," Gabriel retorted, standing next to him as he patted him on the shoulder. (you’re too old to be doing this shit) "Ni tan viejo, solo 27," he grumbled, his brows furrowing even further as he saw you place your hand on Flash's shoulder. (not that old, just 27) "There's people here who are already married," Gabriel offered, letting out a laugh as Miguel’s scowl deepened further.

You were talking with some friends in the middle of the gymnasium floor, trying to avoid eye contact with Miguel as your friends tried to recognize the people around them. "Wow, he's so tall and hot," Sasha, your friend, pointed out and you didn't even have to turn around to know she was referring to Miguel. "Isn't that the guy who used to wear those stupid glasses? I think his name was Manuel or something," your other friend, Jenna, remarked once she stopped kissing her boyfriend long enough to see who you were all talking about. You bit on the inside of your cheek to avoid correcting her, not wanting to drag any suspicion to yourself.

You listened to your friends talking as they excluded you from the conversation, wondering why you even put up with them back in uni. You excused yourself though you weren't sure if anyone really cared about your absence and headed to the bathroom. You were about to enter when you suddenly felt a strong grip on your arm, turning around to be faced with Flash. "Why'd you leave so early, pretty girl?" He asked you, his mouth reeking from the vodka he'd been drinking all night. "I just need to fix my makeup," you responded, trying to get him to loosen his grip but he pushed you against the wall.

"I've been thinking.. we were really good during university so what do you say if we rekindle that flame?" He asked, clearly oblivious to the fear sparking up in your eyes. "Dude, get off me. you're hurting my arm," you tried to plead with him but the grip around you only intensified. He leaned into kiss you, your knee hitting him in the groin once he got close to you. "STUPID WHORE!" He screamed after you ran away from him. You weren't too focused on where you were going, just making the effort to get away from him as much as possible.

You didn't realize you'd bumped into someone, your eyes flickering up to meet Miguel’s red ones. "What's wrong?" He questioned, his gaze softening a bit as he looked down at you. "Oh thank goodness I found you," you mumbled, just burying your head in his chest without caring who was around. His hand came to hold yours, only stopping when he felt you flinch underneath. "Who did this to you?" you could tell that he was trying to remain calm as he asked that question, some venom still managing to seep through. "Flash Thompson," you responded, holding his arm before he had the chance to storm off.

"Can you just stay with me, please?" You asked him, tears brimming on your waterline. He let out a small sigh, almost like he was conflicted but he nodded and went with you to the football field. The two of you sat on the stands, sounds of cicadas around filling up the silence. You leaned against Miguel’s shoulder, finding comfort in just being around him despite the rough facade that he'd built for himself. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, seemingly wanting to keep you away from any further danger that would come.

"It's so stupid, I actually thought that he was an okay partner during our time in university. Like sure, he was verbally abusive towards me but he was nice during these short periods of time," you spoke out, feeling Miguel’s eyes bore into you as you did. "Is that why you're so avoidant on being in a relationship?" He asked you, his hand tracing small circles on your shoulder. You took a couple seconds to think about his question, wondering if Flash had really had that much of an effect on you and your future relationships. "It's part of the reason why, I think seeing everyone around me in unhealthy relationships kind of set in stone for me."

"I don't think it's wrong what you're doing, but are you sure you're not closing off opportunities just because of that fear?" He inquired, his hand coming down to your waist as he held you close to him. The truth was that you did allow yourself to wonder about the 'what-ifs' but they always ended up in the worst result. "I just don't see the whole point of putting myself through the pain of being in a relationship, y'know? Plus, you're pretty good company," you responded, flashing a small smile towards him.

Miguel didn't say anything, but he didn't need to in that moment. All you were looking for was for someone to hold you, to make you feel like you were okay again. You got up when you heard your phone buzzing, a message from your friend asking to come back to the party. "I'll come meet you later tonight," you told Miguel before you left, leaning over to press your lips against his cheek. You couldn't help but feel butterflies in your stomach as you saw your lipstick mark on him, practically marking him as yours. "Don't think I forgot about all those little touches by the way!" He yelled after you, a small chuckle escaping from his lips while he waited for you to leave.

You walked back into the party, seeing your friends still standing in their spot without Flash. You grabbed yourself a drink from a table nearby, listening in to the conversation happening around you. You let out the small occasional 'hm' and 'mhm' in response to their conversation, not willing yourself to feign more interest than that. If your friends had noticed something off, they hadn't bothered to mention it. Your eyes glanced over to Gabriel, seeing that Miguel still hadn't come back from the field. You found yourself growing a bit worried for him, taking a sip from your soda to try to calm down.

Miguel saw Flash as he walking back from the football field, unable to hold himself back the longer he looked at him. As Miguel approached him, he could tell that his frame clearly overpowered his, but Flash still tried to pretend like he was the one in power of this situation. "What the hell do you want, nerd?" Flash asked him, speaking to him like he didn't matter much more than the dirt below his feet. "What I want is for you not to put a hand on her again," Miguel spoke calmly, despite the storm that was brewing up inside him. "And if I don't?"

The whole thing had happened in a blur, one minute Flash was laughing in face and calling him a nerd and the other he was on the floor screaming for help. Miguel had to mentally restrain himself as he punched him, his fist leaving Flash with a crooked and bloody nose. "That's what happens if you don't," Miguel responded, wiping away the blood on his handkerchief before walking away. He stepped away into the restroom, his hand throbbing as he washed away the blood flash leaked onto his hand. Your concern for Miguel was quickly replaced with shock when Flash came into the gymnasium, blood spilling onto the white shirt he had on.

You’d almost missed Miguel walking in behind him as he tried his best to blend into the shadows while he walked back to Gabriel. Your attention was brought back to the group when they let out a collective gasp once they noticed Flash walking over. "What the hell happened to you?" Sasha asked him, a tone of amusement in her voice as she spoke. "Bumped into a door," he responded, grabbing some ice from the bowl nearby and placing them into a napkin. You noticed he kept his distance from you this time, giving you only the occasional dirty look.

Gabriel looked up from his phone to look up at Miguel, taking a look at his throbbing hand. "Don't ask," Miguel grumbled, placing an ice cold soda against his knuckles. "Wasn't going to. How's the other guy doing?" Gabriel asked before he looked over where Miguel was staring, noticing Flash's bloody nose. He let out a small hiss as a response, clapping Miguel’s shoulder. "Well at least he looks worse than you. I was gonna text you after you abandoned me, met some girl that wanted to dance with me," Gabriel spoke before leaving Miguel alone in the shadows.

You watched as Jenna danced with gabriel, despite the fact that her boyfriend had only just left the event. The group decided to join her on the dance floor and so you did the same, dancing to the rhythm of the song that was playing. Your eyes met Miguel’s as you danced, your hips moving sensually to the rhythm of the song. You could feel other people staring at you and the way that you moved, but your eyes couldn't leave Miguel’s no matter how hard you willed yourself to try. His stone cold facade broke down when he clenched his fists by his sides, a clear sign that you were affecting him.

You looked at him as he pulled his phone out, his thumbs rushing across the keyboard as he tried to write the words out to the best of his ability. You felt a buzz in your purse, seeing a text message from Miguel to meet him in the restroom. You placed your phone back in your purse, taking a small gulp as you walked into the restroom after him. "Second stall," he spoke up once he heard the door close, your heels clicking across the bathroom floor while you walked to him. "What if that'd been someone else?" You teased him as you walked into the stall, closing it immediately to avoid getting caught.

The words soon enough died in your throat as Miguel unbuttoned his pants, his cock hard under his boxers. "You see what you do to me, beautiful? Couldn't stand all those others staring at what's mine," he told you, bringing your face up to his as he kissed you. The kiss was rough, like he was just desperate to get a taste of you. His mouth travelled down to your throat, leaving a small mark on the side of your neck. "You're all mine," he whispered, his touch featherlight as he kissed your neck. You got down on your knees, palming his cock through the boxers.

You slid them off, his cock hitting his stomach once it was released from its confines. You wrapped one of your hands around it, starting to stroke him as your mouth went towards his thighs. You left small kisses on his thigh, making your way up to his cock. You placed a small kiss on the tip of his cock, your lipstick leaving a mark as you did. You opened up your mouth, swirling your tongue around the reddened head with your eyes locked straight on his. His hand came back to the back of your head, holding you in place as you got started.

You took more of his cock in your mouth, never growing quite adjusted to the size of him. Your cheeks hollowed as you made your way down his shaft, your tongue running down the underside of his cock. His hips bucked forward, your gags filling up the empty bathroom. "So pretty, all stuffed with cock like that," he murmured, your eyes watering slightly as you tried to control the tears streaming down from your cheeks. Your hand wrapped around the base, pumping what your mouth couldn't reach and the other one went to play with his balls. You held his heavy balls in your hand, tugging them slightly and massaging them in your grasp.

"Oh fuuuck, just like that," he moaned quietly, soft groans erupting from his chest as you continued to suck on his cock. You pulled away, spitting on the tip while the liquid travelled downward. Your grip on the base tightened as you moved your hand up and down his cock, looking up at him in anticipation. You brought your mouth back to his cock, your lipstick smeared across and your mascara dripping down your cheeks. "Tan hermosa que eres," he groaned as he felt your tongue running along the underside of his tip, the sight of him looking so disheveled making your panties wetter by the second. (you’re so beautiful)

You felt your pussy clench around nothing as you sucked him off, your panties damp from how much you were affected by this. You felt his legs shaking underneath you, his groans becoming louder as he approached his orgasm. "Where do you want it?" He asked, his voice cracking a bit from the sensation he was feeling. You opened up your mouth, sticking your tongue out as your hand pumped him at the same rate you were going beforehand. "Just like that, don't stop," he told you, biting into his hand as he approached his orgasm. White ropes of cum filled up your mouth, some of it landing on your cheeks and chin.

"I look horrible," you noticed as you looked at yourself in the mirror, your lipstick barely clinging on. "Well I think you look pretty," Miguel responded, wrapping his arms around your waist as he peppered your neck with more kisses. You wiped away at the mascara dripping down from your cheeks, deciding to give up on that aspect and just fix up your lipstick. You couldn't help but let out a chuckle as you saw the mark on miguel's lips, handing him a piece of tissue paper to clean up.

Once the two of you had fixed up the slightest bit, you left at separate times. You waited for Miguel to text you the okay before leaving the bathroom, walking back over to your friends. "What's up with you? You keep disappearing," Jenna pointed out once you came back, the darkness of the gym hiding away the hickey blooming on the side of your neck. So much for them not noticing your absence.

"Just drank a little too much soda," you responded, keeping your voice even so they wouldn't notice your little fib. You looked around, noticing that Gabriel was standing off to the side once more. "What happened to dancing with him?" You decided to change the subject, receiving a small shrug in response. "I don't know, he's too sweet? His brother, though, definitely looks like he's a freak in the sheets," she pointed out and you couldn't help but feel a bit of possessiveness over Miguel. You decided to ignore her little comment, letting her go back to talking with the rest of the group.

Miguel walked back over to Gabriel, finding him sulking alone in the shadows. "It's funny, almost every girl I've been with chooses you for some reason despite the fact that you're an asshole," Gabriel spoke up, Miguel’s chest tightening up a bit as he spoke. He'd never meant to make his brother feel inferior, never meant to make him feel like he was something less. "The girl you were dancing with had a boyfriend so I wouldn't wallow too much over that," Miguel responded, approaching Gabriel slowly. "Yeah, you're probably right," he responded with a small sigh, still feeling down.

Soon enough, another woman had approached Gabriel and asked him for a coffee, without offering Miguel as much as a second glance. Miguel looked down at his phone, checking the time on his phone before walking out of the gym. You came out right after he did, stepping side by side with him. "How's your brother doing? Jenna’s kind of.. a lot so I’m sorry," you spoke up first, looking up at Miguel. "He's alright, he found someone else to get over it. How do you feel about getting back to my place?"

On the drive back home, you couldn't help but feel aroused at the sight of him behind the wheel. He just drove so eloquently, his muscles flexing in the thin button down he had on with every movement that he made. You spread your legs, noticing Miguel looking at you through the corner of his eye. You tentatively played with your folds through the thin material of your panties, looking over at Miguel as he struggled to maintain his composure. "It's like you want me to crash, little minx," he muttered, looking straight at the road. You took off your panties slowly, bringing your fingers up to Miguel’s mouth.

He wrapped his mouth around them as he kept his attention on the road, covering them in his spit. You brought them back into your weeping hole, sticking them in. You started off slow, your slick combining with his spit each time you pushed them inside. Miguel’s hand around the steering wheel tightened, letting out a grunt as he heard the squelch from your pussy. You began rocking your pelvis against your hand, riding your two fingers as soft moans escaped from your lips. Miguel brought his other hand towards your clit, rubbing the nub as he continued to drive across the empty streets.

Just as you were about to cum, Miguel pulled his hand away despite your protests. "You'll only be coming around my cock, understand?" He told you, the car coming to a stop. You looked around, noticing that the two of you had arrived to his penthouse. You felt your pussy clench up at his promise, your shaky feet barely taking you out of his car. Without a word, miguel picked you up with ease and locked up the car before taking you inside.

The two of you had barely gotten through the door when Miguel started kissing you, his mouth engulfing around yours like he was afraid you'd go away. "We should go to the bedroom, yeah?" You suggested to him in between kisses, his hand grabbing yours as he led you up the stairs. The minute the two of you had made it back to the bedroom, his lips were back on yours as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth like it was the first time doing so.

He wasted no time in zipping down your dress and taking off his clothes, a pile quickly building up underneath the two of you. "Get down on your hands and knees," he told you, your body obliging almost immediately. His hand rubbed the globe of your ass cheek, a sharp smack taking all the breath from your lungs. "I want you to count for the amount of times he had his hands on you," he spoke, his hand gently soothing the sting from the previous slap. "Okay!" You exclaimed, letting out a moan as his hand came down to smack your ass once more. "One!"

The process continued for four more times, Miguel’s hands gripping your hips as he pushed his cock inside of you. "You only belong to me, I don't care if it's official to you or not, it is to me," he spoke, a small grunt escaping from his lips as he felt your pussy clench around him. No matter how many times he'd fucked you, the process was still a stretch every time. You gripped onto the pillow below you tightly, his cock moving inside of you slightly as he tried to fit in.

He retracted his cock, slamming into you in sharp thrust. "All mine, understand?" He told you, leaning in slightly as his chest hit your back. "All yours!" You responded, the words not feeling like something you were just saying in the moment. The grip around your waist tightened, his cock retracting out of your pussy much faster this time. Drool rolled down to your chin as he sped up, his thrusts almost punishing you for letting another man touch you. Your back arched, stomach against the bed as he rocked you back and forth.

He brought you back up, your back plush against his chest while his hips snapped into yours. You held onto the headboard, the wooden frame hitting the wall with every thrust that he took. One of his hands held your waist as he fucked you to his will, the other wrapping around your throat. He provided enough pressure to make your vision blur at the edges but not enough to the point where you were suffocating. The blood rushed up to your head with every thrust that he took, your mouth parted in a 'o' shape as you moaned out babbles of what seemed to be his name.

He tilted your head back to his directions, leaning in as he kissed you with such intensity that it made you dizzy. You weren't too sure if it was from him or the momentary oxygen loss, but you couldn't get enough of how well he was fucking you. You went back to being on your hands and knees, almost feeling his cock in your throat from this angle. One of his fingers circled the rim of your ass, never willing to do that without your proper consent but he liked to toy with the idea every so often. That hand went down to your clit, rubbing your clit and flicking the nub to the rhythm of his thrusts.

A new wave of your slick coated his cock, some of it rolling down to the covers beneath the two of you. Your mind was erased from every thought that didn't include coming around Miguel’s cock. Your walls clamped around him once more, a moan erupting from your throat while your release coated his cock. He continued with the same pace, fucking you through the orgasm as he sought out for his own release. His thrusts stuttered slightly, becoming off-pace as he reached the brink of his own orgasm.

His head came down to your shoulder, biting down on it as white ropes of cum coated your walls. His fangs gently grazed against your shoulder blade when he removed his mouth, waiting for his cock to soften up so he could remove it. He slid out in one swift motion, getting a rag from the bed stand. he cleaned in between your thighs, his touch light as he did. "Can you stand up for a minute? I'm not letting you sleep on those sheets," he asked you, helping you get up from the bed.

After he'd changed the sheets, you couldn't help but look up at him curiously. "Was that talk about me being yours just something out of the heat of the moment or..?" You asked, trailing off since you didn't want to make wrongful assumptions. "No, it wasn't. I only agreed to this stupid fling because I just wanted to be with you. I'm sorry if I'm acting rash or anything, we can go back to normal," he responded, willing to put aside his feelings for you just so he'd have these moments. "I don't want things to go back to normal, I want to be with you."

#moon-rivr #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut #smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #spiderman atsv #miguel x reader #miguel fic #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara fic #miguel ohara #miguel 2099 #miguel smut #miguel ohara spiderman #spiderman smut #spiderman #spiderman 2099 smut #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse

[initialchains]

teenage dirtbag, baby! | luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: there is nothing more exhausting than being known as the picture perfect daughter of aphrodite… luckily, camp half-blood’s resident teenage dirtbag luke castellan can’t relate at all. fake dating him to piss off your siblings and mother could never go wrong, right? (based on 18 by anarbor)

wc: 6.5k

warnings: smoking, mentions of drinking, mentions of drugs, mentions of sex, implied sexual content, drew tanaka being a bitch, and kinda ooc luke bcs hes meant to be well … a teenage dirtbag.

a/n: its still valentine’s day for me sooo happy valentines 💌💗 !! in mexico valentine’s day is also known as the day of friendship so this one is dedicated to my favorite people ever: @emiliehornby @love-that-we-were-in and @kestisvrse <3 !! hope you enjoy it mwah !!

The sounds of campers laughing and gossiping in the dining pavilion are drowned out by your siblings and their annoyingly loud whispers about the allegedly cute (you’d beg to differ) son of Ares who joined camp less than twelve hours ago. Sure, he seemed like a nice guy even though he's a child of the god of war, but you were certain the only reason they kept bringing him up was because they wanted to set you up with him.

“And his arms, oh my gods! Have you seen them?” one of your brothers chimed in, trying to get you to agree with him, but all you could come up with was a hum and a polite smile. 

It pissed you off a bit, the knowledge of you never being able to go against your siblings' wishes.. the fear of disappointing them and your mother being all-consuming and blinding you with fear.

There were times you’d think about it if you’re being honest. Times where you would let yourself dream of doing something so stupidly reckless for once. Something that would stop your siblings from walking all over you and treating you like their personal lapdog. 

Not only was it tiring but it was also humiliating to a certain point. You were older than most of them and you were pretty sure you were the only one that took being a demigod seriously, even taking your time to strategize for Capture The Flag with Clarisse, and yet… you rejected Chiron when he asked you to be a counselor and told him to ask Silena instead. 

And you loved your family—you really did, but it was getting exhausting. Always having to be perfect was draining you and you were afraid of the kind of person you’d become if you allowed this to keep going. 

“He totally wants to ask you out,” Silena’s voice snapped you out of the daze you were trapped in. You turned your head to the right, facing your half-sister with a small frown on your face.

“You really think so?” you replied, trying your best to sound excited. 

“Oh, I know so,” she answered before going on a whole rant about how cute you’d look with the newly claimed son of Ares. A son of Ares—that you badly wanted to remind her—had only been in camp for less than twelve hours and you knew nothing about. 

You stayed in the dining pavilion with your siblings until you found the strength to tell them you were tired and wanted to go to sleep (an incredibly blatant lie but it didn’t look like they cared) and stood up, brushing the dust off your jeans.

“Wait, I’ll go with you!” Silena said with a smile, standing up and moving closer to you. 

“You don’t have to. You can stay with them if you want to, really—“ you were cut off by your half-sister with an exasperated sigh.

“I want to go with you. Plus, I can walk back here once I drop you off at the cabin,” she stated with a playful roll of her eyes.

The two of you walked back to the Aphrodite cabin in a comfortable silence. You liked being with Silena, she was a few years younger than you but she carried herself with so much grace and love it was hard to feel uncomfortable or weird whenever you hung out with her.

You kept your gaze on the sky, noticing that the moon was out by now. “Hey,” Silena whispered, trying to get your attention.

“You okay?” you answered. Your mind was practically hardwired to always look after your siblings, so your brain was unwillingly making you think of the worst-case scenario.

“What? Yeah, I am okay,” Silena was quick to reassure you, “I just wanted to talk to you about—“

“I swear to all the gods, Silena. If this is about that camper..” you replied with a small sigh. The two of you stopped walking when you reached your cabin, deciding to continue the conversation outside.

“He’s not that bad! He is a nice guy and the two of you would look really cute together,” she insisted.

“You don’t even know him.”

“Ugh, fine. Good thing is there are other cute campers we can introduce you to. I met one of Charlie’s brothers a few weeks ago and I think he’d—“

“I can’t do this tonight,” you replied in an exhausted tone.

“Wow, okay. No need to be mean about it,” Silena muttered.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve been trying to help you find a boyfriend for months now and you always shut me down. It was fine at first but now you’re just being mean,” she explained.

“Mean? Silena, you said it yourself. I’ve always shut you down because I’m not interested in getting one.”

“Whatever,” she replied bitterly before turning around and walking back to the dining pavilion, leaving you alone outside of your cabin. 

You stared at her back as she walked away, going through the last few minutes over and over in your head. Were you being mean? All you did was stick up for yourself. You didn’t understand why you were feeling bad for standing up against your siblings just for once.

A snort made you realize you weren’t alone. You turned your head towards the noise just to be met with.. oh.

Luke Castellan was leaning against the side of your cabin, carefully hidden under the darkness of the night and the shadows of the trees, he had a cigarette in his right hand and an obnoxious smirk adorning his even more obnoxious face. 

“Hope you enjoyed the show, Castellan.”

Luke raised his hands as if he had been caught and blew the smoke away, “I’m on your side, she was being a fucking bitch.”

“Don’t call her that, she’s just a kid.”

Luke raised a brow before taking another drag of his cigarette, “Do not call your sister a bitch after seeing her.. be a bitch to you?” he shook his head. “Oh, princess, you need to work on getting rid of that altruism.”

“Do you even know what that word means?” you snapped, not being in the mood to indulge in whatever it was he wanted to talk about.

“Why? You want to teach me?” He said with a smirk.

“Don’t even start with your annoying stuff, Castellan,” you muttered, running a hand down your face, clearly overwhelmed with everything that had happened. 

“Because you know you won’t want me to stop?” he pressed, but after a moment of silence his smirk fell and a frown took over his features. 

“Uh.. you want to...” he trailed off and cleared his throat, “you want to talk about it or something?” 

You squinted at him before eventually letting out a sigh and walking over to Luke, standing next to him with your back pressed against the wooden walls of your cabin. Luke extended his arm away from you to keep the smoke far from your face. 

“So, um... Silena wants to set me up with that new camper,” you started.

“Fuck. The Ares one?” Luke interrupted.

“Castellan.”

“Right, sorry. Please continue, princess.”

You decided to ignore the insufferable pet name he gave you and continued, “The thing is I do want a boyfriend, just not… him.”

Luke hummed before bringing the cigarette to his lips again and inhaling the smoke in, he kept his mouth closed as he thought of something decent to say before slightly tilting his head away from you and blowing out the smoke upwards. 

“Alright, and have you tried telling her to stop?” he cut himself off and shook his head. “Nope that was shitty advice, have you tried maybe describing your type or whatever it is you Aphrodite people say to describe the people you’re attracted to.” 

“My type?” you replied, almost offended by the statement.

“Yeah?” Luke answered as if it was the most obvious thing to do, “Just describe the type of guys you’re into and I’m sure that cult of yours you like to call siblings will be happy to help…” he trailed off when he noticed your gaze set on his right hand and your bottom lip in between your teeth as he flicked the cigarette, causing the ashes to fall into the ground. 

He looked up from his hand and burst out into laughter, shaking his head before whispering an amused fuck. 

“Oh?” Luke said with a bright smile and raised brows, “You find this attractive, angel?” 

“That thing is going to kill you,” you explained, “I’m not attracted to people that like to slowly kill themselves.” 

“Fucking bummer. I wanted to see you take a drag, that would’ve been really hot,” he said, his smile not wavering. “Next thing you’re going to tell me is that you don’t drink, right?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Look at you, being such a good girl,” Luke teased before throwing the rest of his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it. 

“Also, that thing you said about Silena being just a kid was really fucking stupid. She’s almost the same age as Annabeth and she doesn’t act like an asshole, I’m pretty sure your sweet little sister is just a bitch.” 

Annabeth. You forgot that even though Luke is an annoyance most of the time and prefers to stick to himself.. he still has a soft spot for the twelve year old daughter of Athena. It was kind of endearing. 

“Annabeth is a daughter of Athena, you can’t expect her to act—“

“You didn’t act like Silena when you were fourteen. You need to stop giving her excuses and allow yourself to get mad at her.” 

“I’d rather have my siblings get mad at me and just stop perceiving me as this perfect and weak person, maybe once that happens they’ll stop trying to mess with my life,” you explained, your gaze set towards the ground. 

Luke was about to open his mouth and try to come up with a funny one-liner to make you feel better, but he didn’t get to because you were quick to look up at him with a gasp and wide eyes.

“The fuck? Are you okay?” 

“I need you.”

“Shit, angel. Most girls say that after a few dates but I’m not against the idea,” he said with an amused look in his eyes. 

“Ew, no. I mean, I need to date you—fake date you.”

“I’m uh... not for sale?” Luke answered, clearly confused by the plan you were trying to explain.

“No, Castellan. Listen to me. My siblings despise you, I’m sure they’d set my bed on fire as a way of cleansing my soul from you if they find out we’re dating.”

Luke’s eyes got bright and his smile widened (if that was even possible), “Set your bed on fire? And what would we do in your bed for them to feel disgusted by its existence?”

“You’re disgusting. Anyway, if we fake date I’ll get to stop being perceived as their perfect sister and you’ll have bragging rights for dating an Aphrodite kid,” you said, moving your hands as you spoke. 

“I’m pretty sure Drew started the rumors about me having lice and smuggling coke into camp, are you sure you want to fake date me of all people?” Luke asked carefully, trying to make you think about what was at stake. He didn’t give a shit about staining his already nonexistent reputation, but he couldn’t have you ruin yours. 

“I am so sure, Castellan,” you reassured him. 

“You know, for a good girl I’m extremely surprised you never say please.”

“Please, Castellan. Could you please be my fake boyfriend so I can finally stop being seen as my siblings' personal toy?” you said with a fake smile while bringing your hands together as an exaggerated way of begging Luke to say yes. 

“You’re so cute when you beg. But you need to prove to me you’re serious about this fake dating thing. Meet me tomorrow at the bonfire, no bullshit.” 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

You had been on edge the entire day. Silena seemed to be past the argument, which made you feel better to an extent, but that didn’t seem to shake the uneasy feeling that settled in your gut because throughout the day you could feel someone staring at you. You could feel Luke staring at you.  

You were walking past the sword fighting arena with Katie Gardner from the Demeter Cabin the first time it happened. The feeling of a pair of eyes completely set on you. You turned your head to the right just to be met with Luke’s exhausted figure, he was sweating and panting, but that didn’t stop him from running his eyes up and down your figure and smiling at you. 

To say Katie was disgusted would be an understatement. A “Castellan is a dick, you should stay away from him,” was enough to stop you from staring at him and turning your head back to Katie. She went on to explain how Luke was a “real shitty person” and only hooked up with her as a way of getting her to grow weed in the back of the stables. 

It happened around eight times in the last two hours (not that you were counting) and it only got worse when the moon came up and everyone was making their way to the bonfire. You were walking next to Michael Yew when you felt a hand on your lower back. 

Luke’s hand on your lower back, to be exact. He left it there as he walked past you, only turning his head back to say “It’s adorable to see you together, are you two a couple?” 

You had to hold yourself back from strangling him when you heard his irritating laugh after he saw Michael’s reaction to his statement. Michael tried his best to be polite and tell him he was wrong, that there was nothing going on between the two of you. 

But his reply only seemed to fuel Luke’s actions even more because all he did was answer with a cocky “Oh, I know. Our princess here is only into... what was it? People that like to slowly kill themselves with cigarettes?” before walking away.

You were going to kill him.

Michael left your side as soon as you arrived, moving to sit with his siblings from the Apollo Cabin… leaving you with two choices: sitting with your siblings or sitting next to Luke (who for some reason always sat alone and spent the entire time listening to the music coming from the MP3 player he somehow managed to get into camp). 

So this is what Luke meant, you thought. This was the only way you could prove to him and everyone that you were serious about dating him—fake dating him—but it's not like they would ever know the truth.

You dragged your feet as you walked towards Luke, clearly having second thoughts about your plan, but there was no turning back now. You tried to ignore the confused look Drew was giving you and the gasps you could hear coming from your siblings. 

“I’m pretty sure Drew started the rumors about me having lice and smuggling coke into camp, are you sure you want to fake date me of all people?” You weren't so sure anymore but that didn’t stop you from taking a seat next to Luke Castellan, who took one of his earphones off and looked at you with a smile. 

“Happy now? I just proved how serious I am about this,” you whispered to him, trying your best to not let anyone hear you.

Luke nodded before saying, “You could’ve done better, but I’ll take it.”

“Done better? I just sat next to you in front of the entire camp, isn’t this good enough for you?” you asked, indignation evident in your tone. 

“Promise not to beat me up?” Luke said before pulling your arm and manhandling your body so you were on top of him, sitting on his lap. He placed his hands on your hips and looked up at you with stars in his eyes.

“Wow, Castellan. How scandalous, I’m sitting on your lap,” you deadpanned. 

He chuckled, bringing you closer to him and pressing his lips against yours. Luke’s hands felt like fire against your skin, all you could feel was a heat taking all over your body as he continued to kiss you, only pulling away to catch his breath before bringing you in for another one, this time he kissed you deeper and faster. 

Luke dragged you closer to him by pressing your hips against his and all you could do was melt into him and the feeling of his lips against yours. In the distance, you could hear gasps and people gagging, and you were pretty sure the campers from the Ares Cabin were cheering and whistling, but all your thoughts were on Luke Castellan and how good of a kisser he is.

You pulled away first this time, trying to steady your breathing as you looked into his eyes. He licked his lips before whispering “We should go.”

Your eyes widened as soon as he said that, the implications of what the sentence meant making you feel nervous. Luke was quick to reassure you, “If we leave, your siblings will be even more outraged. We don’t have to do anything, but they’ll think we are doing…some stuff. Just come to the woods with me for a little while.” 

You nodded and grabbed his hand as he guided you through the woods. You could hear Silena calling out your name and warning you about the consequences of your actions, but her voice was drowned out by the loud cheers coming from Clarisse.

Once the two of you were far enough from the rest of the campers, Luke let go of your hand and sat down by the lake, nodding his head as a way of asking you to join him.

You sat in silence for a few minutes until Luke spoke first. “How long do you think we should keep this thing up?”

“Valentina and Drew will want us to be over by tonight,” you said with a smile, a laugh escaping your lips. You didn’t notice how Luke’s eyes got brighter when he heard your laugh or how the melody that came out of your lips went straight through his heart and made him feel more alive.

“But I think a week should be enough. We can say we’ve been secretly dating for like... five months? That way it won’t be weird if we break up in a week,” you explained while your fingers played with your camp necklace. 

Luke nodded before going silent again, staring at the lake with a look you couldn’t quite comprehend. Your gaze was set on him, your eyes traveling from his toned arms, all the way to the scar that sat right below his right eye. 

“I know it’s awful, I can feel you staring at it,” he murmured. You could physically feel your heart sinking when he said it. You cleared your throat, “No, I… I think it’s beautiful. I think you’re—” Luke turned his head to face you, an inquisitive look in his eyes. “I think you’re really brave, Luke.” 

“Beautiful?” Luke asked, confusion written all over his face. “You should hear what your siblings say about it, then. I’m sure your opinion would change in a second.” 

“Being an Aphrodite kid means you see beauty everywhere,” you explained, “And I think your scar must be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Luke stared at you with an unreadable expression, making your heart almost beat out of your chest. 

“Are you flirting with me, angel?”

“Of course, you’d ruin the moment. Screw you, man.” You rolled your eyes. 

Luke threw his head back in a fit of laughter, it made you want to strangle him… again. “Did you just say screw you? Gods, princess, saying fuck won’t kill you.” 

“I don’t like to curse, thank you for pointing it out, Castellan,” you said, playfully shoving him, making him fake a gasp. 

“You went from trying to seduce me to trying to kill me, you’re so interesting, angel,” he said before letting out a sigh. “It, uh… It was really hard at first, getting used to the scar.”

“Having people call it all sorts of names, and looking at me with nothing but pity in their eyes was not easy to get used to. But after some time you just… stop caring. I mean, I’m not that big of an asshole to hold a grudge over a fucking scar, it even looks sick. But yeah, when it gets hard again all I can do is snort a line and move on.

“The coke smuggling was real?” you gasped, only focusing on the last sentence he said. Luke tried to keep a straight face but his facade fell the moment he noticed your wide eyes. Luke Castellan has the type of laugh that makes everything get fuzzy and makes you feel lightheaded, and all you wanted to do was to come up with bad jokes just for the sole reason of hearing him do it again. 

“Fuck, you really believe anything, huh?”

“Shut up, Castellan. I’ll literally stab you and let you slowly bleed to death,” you threatened, standing up from your place next to him. Luke followed you as you walked back to the cabins.

“You do know I’m the best swordsman in the last 300 years, right? Do you even know how to wield a sword?” he asked, matching your pace and walking next to you. 

“Low blow, just because I don’t like to indulge in violence it doesn’t mean I don’t know how to wield a sword,” you retorted. 

Luke snorted a laugh, “You don’t know, do you?”

“No, I don’t. Will you shut up now?”

“I only will if you accept to let me teach you how to fight tomorrow,” Luke said with a tilt to his head. He didn’t even give you a chance to answer because he walked away from you while saying a loud “Meet me tomorrow morning in the sword fighting arena.” 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

You were sure you were seconds away from passing out. It's been around two hours of sparring with Luke and your arms and legs were about to give out. The sun was starting to come out, which meant this torture was nearly over. At least that’s what Luke promised. “We’ll stop as soon as the other campers wake up, that way you won’t have to be embarrassed if they see your… skills.”

The two of you circled each other, your swords were raised and Luke’s blade was pointing straight at you. Luke took a second to study your stance before lunging forward, his sword meeting yours as you quickly blocked his attack. “Not too bad, huh?” Luke teased before trying to get another hit, his moves becoming more calculated the longer you kept blocking his advances. Proving he wasn’t called the best swordsman at camp for nothing. 

With a disarming maneuver you weren’t aware of, Luke was quick to throw your sword to the ground and have you stumbling back, not being able to regain your footing. Luke gave you a smirk when your body hit the ground with a small thud, “That was easy,” he said, “We should do this more often.” 

“Nope, this is a one-time thing, Castellan,” Luke rolled his eyes before bringing the blade of his sword closer to you, reaching for your chin with a glint in his eyes. The blade met your chin and Luke lifted it, making you meet his gaze as he slowly made you stand up by raising his sword even higher. 

The two of you stood still, staring intently into each other’s eyes until you heard it—the sound of the Ares Cabin making their way to the arena. Luke let out a surprised shit, dropped his sword to the ground, and walked closer to you, cupping your jaw with his right hand and kissing you. 

Your lips met in a hurried collision, causing the same fire from yesterday to set in your stomach. Your hands moved to Luke’s hair, softly pulling it as the kiss got heated. You knew this was fake, you knew this kiss meant nothing to him… but you didn’t want him to stop. “Holy fuck, are you two always sucking each other’s faces?” Clarisse’s voice cut through the moment, causing you to pull away from Luke, unable to meet his gaze. 

“Yeah, that’s what being in a relationship entails. I don’t think you’d know much about it, La Rue,” Luke breathes out.

“Don’t you have weed to sell or a cheap bottle of vodka to down, Castellan?” 

“Aw, you know me so well,” Luke answered before picking up both of your swords and grabbing your hand, walking away from the arena. 

The following days were (and you hated to admit it) filled with the most fun you’ve ever had. Luke would come up with some insane idea for a fake date and it would always end with one of you lying about seeing a camper or hearing Silena’s voice as an excuse to make out with each other. 

There was this one time the two of you were having a picnic by the strawberry fields and the day ended with the two of you hiding in the empty forge while making out, running your hands over each other’s bodies, and doing the normal stuff fake couples always do… it all happened because Luke swore he heard Valentina’s voice near the fields. (You were sure Valentina had been on the stables that entire day because she had cleaning duty, but why wouldn’t you play along with something you also wanted to do?)  

It was Sunday–the last day of your fake relationship–when Silena finally found the guts to talk to you about Luke. You even felt slightly bad for the girl because she was so nervous when she sat next to you in the dining pavilion. 

“I..um... I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” she began, “Well, there are lots of things for me to apologize for, but I think it’s pretty obvious what the main problem is.” 

“The way I’ve been treating you is not okay and I’m really ashamed of it. You shouldn’t have to feel pressured to be the person we want you to be, I used to see you as someone who couldn’t do things on her own and always needed someone to push her and help her handle everything… and now I see I was wrong,” Silena explained, running a hand through her hair. 

“It’s fine, Silena. I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do. You’re strong and more than capable of doing things on your own, and you don’t need me to try and help you or fix you.” She took a deep breath. “I didn't know you were dating Luke, and to be honest I didn’t even know he was your type. He is so… weird and I never would’ve guessed you were dating. I mean, Drew told me he does cocaine and—”

“He doesn’t,” you interrupted.

Silena raised a brow before continuing, “Anyway, I’m sorry if I ever made you feel bad for just... existing. And you always look so happy after hanging out with Luke, I truly hope the two of you stay together for a long time.” 

You didn’t even know how to explain the situation so you just blurted out “I broke up with him.” 

Silena looked shocked for a few seconds before letting out a deep breath, “Oh, thank the gods. Just because we trust you it doesn’t mean we trust him,” she spat the him with so much disgust it made you feel sick. “You deserve so much better.” 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

This is probably the first time you have ever felt ill at the thought of seeing Luke. Sure, you used to be annoyed by his presence before the whole fake dating situation even started, but at least you were a strange type of friends back then. Not really close but also not complete strangers. There were times you’d catch him hiding his secret stash of weed behind the stables and didn’t tell anyone, and he’d always pay you back by lying to Chiron about you practicing your sword skills with him. (You had only used a sword once and it was years ago when you were still a new camper, you had no idea why Chiron would ever believe him.)

Luke was sitting in his usual spot by the lake, a cigarette in his hand. It had become a tradition for the two of you to always meet up by the lake before curfew to talk about your day and practice your kissing so it wouldn’t look fake. 

“Hey,” you said, taking a seat next to him. Luke threw his cigarette to the ground, stepped on it, and almost instinctively wrapped an arm around your waist, kissing your temple. “Blink-182?” you asked, nodding at the MP3 he had on his lap. 

“The Smashing Pumpkins,” Luke answered, taking his earphones off. “Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness is one of the best albums ever made.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I’ll take your word for it,” you said. Luke smiled and poked your side. 

“So, there’s something I need to talk to you about,” you began, but Luke held up his hand as a way to get you to stop.

“Can I say something first?” he asked, looking shy for probably the first time since the day you met him. 

You nodded and let him take the lead of the conversation. “Alright, so… I’m kind of shit with words so I’m sorry if this doesn’t make any sense but this past week has probably been the best week of my life. And I’m not even fucking around, I don’t have many friends–apart from Annabeth, and getting to be with you is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Being your friend is the greatest gift the gods have ever given me, and sometimes I feel like I don’t even deserve it. I’m a mess of a person, and you’re well… you’re you,” Luke stared deeply into your eyes, “And I just wanted to let you know that—”

Luke didn’t get to finish his sentence because this time it was you who cut him off with a kiss. You could taste the cigarette on his lips as he brought you closer to him, running a hand down your back and deepening the kiss before pulling away and moving to kiss your neck. 

Luke began to trail kisses down your throat and only stopped to whisper a low “Look at you, what would Aphrodite say? I’m sure she’d be proud.”

Aphrodite.

You pushed him away the moment you remembered your mother. “Silena apologized. We can stop pretending now.”

Luke was silent and just stared at you, his fingers moving to fidget with the wire of his earphones. “Oh, right,” he cleared his throat. “It’s Sunday, I forgot.”

You knew he didn’t.

“Yup, so we can go back to normal now,” you said, looking away from his eyes because you knew it would only take one look into them for you to kiss him again.

“Good,” Luke stood up, not daring to even shoot you a glance, and walked away. Leaving you alone by the lake with the lingering smell of his cheap stolen cologne mixed with the cigarette he was smoking. 

It didn’t help that you were welcomed into your cabin with hugs and your siblings congratulating you for breaking up with the son of Hermes. Sure, you weren’t the perfect sister anymore because you dated Luke Friendless-Freak Castellan, but knowing they liked you just because you were with him and then broke his heart made you want to set the cabin on fire. 

The main rule of the Aphrodite Cabin was something your siblings were extremely proud of, but the thought of its existence made you want to storm into Mount Olympus by yourself and yell at your mother for putting all these useless ideas into their heads. 

For a child of Aphrodite to prove themselves, they must make someone fall in love with them and then break that someone's heart. 

Is it possible for the rule to backfire? For the child of Aphrodite to accidentally fall in love with someone and then break their own heart because of it? You didn’t even know if that was an option, but you were sure that’s exactly what you were going through right now. 

It was hard for you to go to sleep that night because your mind kept replaying the past week on a loop. Your conversation with Luke by your cabin. The night of the bonfire. The conversation by the lake about his scar. Sparring with him. Going on a million fake dates. The night on the forge. Your last conversation with him. 

“Look at you, what would Aphrodite say? I’m sure she’d be proud.” 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

You could feel Luke staring at you. Again. 

You were helping Annabeth strategize for Capture The Flag, because she had the brilliant idea to have the Athena cabin team up with Hermes and Aphrodite. You didn’t know much about fighting and spent most of the time sitting with your sisters during the game, but that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy helping them come up with new plans. 

Once the three of you were done, Annabeth excused herself with an awkward “I think Malcolm wanted me to help him go through some maps. You two have fun… chatting!” and left as fast as she could, leaving you alone with Luke. 

You watched her leave the amphitheater and turned around to face Luke, “I can see why you like her. She’s so much like you.”

“Yeah, she’s like my little sister.”

The silence was so uncomfortable you almost broke down crying. You nodded and turned around, not being strong enough to face him, and walked away. You could hear him behind you, following you.

“Can we talk?” he pleaded.

You were about to open your mouth when Drew’s voice made you turn your head. “Gods, Castellan. It’s so embarrassing to still be hung up on your ex.” 

Luke sighed, “Hello to you too, Tanaka.” 

“Can you leave her alone? She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Drew said through a fake smile. 

“Oh, really? Did she tell you that?” Luke answered, tilting his head as he spoke and making eye contact with you. Wordlessly begging you to please talk to him. 

You stayed silent and looked away from him. Luke let out an incredulous laugh before nodding his head. “Good to know you’re back to being their little pet.” 

Drew rolled her eyes and walked away, shoving Luke as she walked past him. “So? You’re just not going to say anything?” Luke said. 

“What do you want me to say, Castellan?” 

“Tell me that last week didn’t mean anything to you,” Luke answered, his voice trembling. 

“Why do you care? I thought I was nothing but Drew’s little pet,” you replied, trying your best to not look weak in front of him.

Luke ran a hand through his hair and stepped closer to you, “I’m sure you’re thinking the exact same thing about yourself.” 

You hated that he was right.

The truth made your blood boil. “I don’t want any of your shit,” Luke let out a genuine laugh this time, a mocking look in his eyes. “Oh, so now she can curse?” 

You hated him for seeing the real you. You hated him for knowing the truth. You hated yourself for loving him.

“Fuck you, Castellan,” Luke hummed before stepping even closer to you and placing a hand on your waist, leaning to whisper in your ear. “I’m sure you’d love to do that again, right?” Luke’s smell was taking all over your senses and making your knees go weak. He continued, “Because even if we do it in the darkness of the Forge… it is still two friends fake dating because your mother might be watching.” 

You found the strength to press your hands against his chest and push him away, “Don’t talk to me ever again.” 

You spent the rest of the day with your siblings and friends, too afraid to leave their side because you didn’t trust yourself. Because you knew that if you were left alone for a second—you’d run straight to him. 

You sat next to Silena in the dining pavilion. Helped Katie and the Dyonisus cabin grow more strawberries by keeping them company. Walked with Michael to the bonfire, and stayed with Drew throughout the entire singalong. 

As always, Luke was sitting by himself, his MP3 player in his hand and his eyes were set on you. 

You walked back to your cabin when the singalong was over and helped your siblings get ready for bed. You were about to go to sleep when Valentina whispered your name, saying she had something for you.

“We found it last night under your bed, Drew wanted to give it to the harpies but I managed to take it away from her,” a frown made its way to your face.”What do you mean?”

“We found this,” She pulled out a badly wrapped gift from under her pillows. You were confused until she told you to open it.

 It was a bright pink MP3 player. 

“Oh,” you whispered, your hands shook as you stared at it. “I’ve got to—”

“It’s okay,” Valentina whispered. “He’s probably by the lake.”

You gave your half-sister a hug before running out of your cabin, and making your way to the lake. You could see Luke’s silhouette in the distance, and the sight only made you run faster.

You took a moment to catch your breath before saying, “The Smashing Pumpkins?”

Luke turned around at the sound of your voice. “Blink-182” he answered with a small smirk.

“Uh, of course,” you said as you walked closer to him. “Alright, listen. You were right.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you continued with a smile. “So, it turns out I may or may not be in love with this certain guy, and he may or may not be my type or whatever it is my siblings say.”

Luke took a step closer to you. “There’s a chance this guy thinks I’m going through a phase and only fake dated him to piss off my siblings and mother but the truth is… I don’t even care about them whenever I’m with him.” 

His hand moved to caress your cheek, “That’s cute and all but how does this guy know you truly mean that?” 

“I’m not going to make out with him at the bonfire, so I guess all he needs to do is believe me,” you whispered, your eyes moving from Luke’s eyes to his lips.

Luke smiled before answering, “Believe you? That’s alright with me,” and pressing his lips to yours.

Luke was right. Aphrodite would be proud. 

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan #percy jackson and the olympians #magnolia’s fics!

[keyotosprompts]

love's possessing me ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

ur fav tropes (with variations) + microtropes

⇴ person a + person b are both looking for each other, and they wander all around the place until they finally meet in the middle, where they both crash into each other

⇴ enemies to lovers (kind of) because they're in opposite factions that feud. until one day they run into each other on accident, immediately want to kill the other, and get trapped together. slowly, they discover that their own factions are awful, and they must work together to stop injustice (mk storyline!!!)

⇴ super serious and put together b turns into pure mush at the sight of a. i'm talking the brain stopped functioning call 911 bc we think they suffered brain damage. no they're just in love with person a.

⇴ having their own secret code. whether it be hand signs behind their backs, secret looks, or secret touches—as long as it's a secret then i will eat it up.

⇴ getting so tired that person b falls and person a has to catch them. person b ends up laying their head on person a's shoulder, and person a is now stuck with person b

⇴ "i'm not falling in love" and they fall the hardest (idc how used it is i will eat it up until i die)

⇴ person b admiring how person a brightens up any room when they get excited. "the look of love" as some would call it

⇴ two people that help each other heal. they've both had rough pasts, and when they meet each other—initially they hate it but—things start to mend (hometown cha cha cha anyone???)

⇴ banter and teasing at first meeting, but the more they get to know each other, the more they begin to connect.

⇴ person a + person b fighting over who has to sleep on the couch (they're staying at the other person's house), until they both agree on sleeping in the same bed together

⇴ friends to lovers but the other party did not consider them friends. (yikesssss)

⇴ "you lied to me! you kept lying straight to my face! and you expect me to forgive you?" "what are you talking about?! did you never get my letter?" "what letter?" (oh ur cooked)

⇴ "you deserve better than me." "that's not your decision to make, that's mine."

⇴ person a literally thinking they're the worst person in the world, and then there's person b, who can fight through the darkness and find the light

⇴ "you wouldn't understand!" "then tell me. i just want to listen."

⇴ person a's overworking themselves, so person b has to manually close their computer and put away their work and force them to sleep

⇴ person a stays up for person b to get home, but falls asleep. person b takes a ton of photos of them and then carries them to bed (and joins them later snuggling them ofc)

hey guys! keyotos here. this is a little out of my lane but i created this post for my writing event on my writing blog. but anyone else, feel free to use these and lmk if u guys like content similar to this!

#keyotosprompts #fluff prompts ⋆˚✿˖° #angst prompts ⋆⑅˚₊ #writeblr #writing #writing prompts #otp prompts #otp writing #imagine your otp #otp prompt #prompts #story prompt #creative writing #dialogue prompts #writing inspiration #keyotos 1k event

[lowkeyremi]

WHEN THEY'RE CURIOUS ABOUT YOUR HAIR jjk x black!fem!reader

remi's note: i just wanted to do something like this cuz i thought about how most of the black readers seem to have braids all the time. so this is when they see your natural hair!! this applies to any black girl hair type but mostly 4c bc that's my hair type. hope you like it :)

He's been staring at you for at least thirty-five minutes and it's finally starting to work your nerves.

"What are you looking at?" You ask him with slight irritation in your tone.

"I just.. I don't think I've ever seen your hair out like that before." He says quietly. It settles your nerves to know he's not looking at you like you're weird, he's looking at you out of curiosity. You've been braiding your hair into cornrows so your natural hair can breathe. It's not healthy for your hair to always be in braids.

He watches as you part your hair with ease, it wasn't always like this though. It took time and patience to be able to do what you do to your hair now. There were several times where you came close to giving up, because your hair is just so thick and there's so much of it.

"Well, this is what it looks like when it's not styled. Get used to it cuz I'm not paying for braids all the time." You quickly oil one section of your scalp before you start the braiding process.

"I mean.. I'll pay for them if you want, baby, but your natural hair is so cute." The idea of being accepted by your partner for who you are, unconditionally makes your heart beat wildly.

"Is it soft? It looks really soft." Child-like curiosity and pure excitement takes over his features. You usually don't let people touch your hair but for your boyfriend you'll make an exception.

"Are your hands clean? I just washed and deep conditioned it." You've never seen him hop off the couch that fast. You hear the kitchen sink running. When his hands are clean and dry he makes his way over to the couch you're sitting on.

His eyes ask 'can I?' and you give him a small nod. He softly taps the top of your unbraided hair as if it would break if he touched it too hard.

"Wowwwwwwwww. Can you teach me how to braid it so I can do it for you?" The way he's acting like a little kid seeing a cute puppy makes you giggle.

"I doubt you'll get it on the first time but I'll teach you if you want." His smile about doubles when you agree. Everything about you is pretty, your skin, your eyes, and of course your pretty curls.

GOJO, yuji, YUTA, choso, inumaki, TODO, NANAMI

He's never watched you take out your braids before, but now that he's doing it, he's invested. You've noticed it but decided not to say anything, if he has any questions he has absolutely no problem asking you.

"What are you gonna do when you take all the braids out?"

"Wash it and braid it up myself. Or maybe I'll twist it up." Instead of saying something he just nods.

He tries to fake uninterested but you see the quick little glances he thinks that he's sneaking in.

"Do you ever straighten it?"

"Sometimes yeah, but it's not great for my hair, heat in general I mean." You quickly cut a braid slightly longer than your natural hair so the unbraiding process goes by much faster.

"I think I like when it's out. I've never seen your hair all poofy before." He's confused when you giggle at his terminology for your hair.

"You mean my afro?" He nods again. "I think you should wear it out more often let your scalp breathe you know?"

The fact that he knows a little bit about your hair makes you proud and content. "Yeah but that means extra work because I have to twist it up before going to bed. So I don't wake up in the morning with my hair all scrunched up."

He sets his phone down and sits closer to you than he was before, "I'll help you twist it. I want to see that pretty hair of yours."

"Well, I have to wash and condition it first, but since you're over here you can help me take my braids out. Don't cut too close though."

"Girl, I know what I'm doing, your hair is not that long." He gets a playful slap to the chest for that comment.

TOJI, megumi, GETO, sukuna, naoya

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #yuji x reader #yuji itadori x reader #yuta x reader #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #inumaki x reader #toji x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #geto x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x black!reader #black!reader

[rae-writes]

Yo that only fantoms caught me off guard,feel like they will bring mc on the tv for an interview and they will be like "so about that alleged sex tape, were those yours?" i wanna know so fucking bad if they will literally look at each other with knowing looks or just laugh it off lololol🤩🤩

based on this post right here // I'm going based off maybe the brothers and mc were doing a livestream on devilgram (definitely asmo's idea) and one of the comments was a question about the videos that were posted // nsfw mentions...obviously

[feigning ignorance]

Lucifer will brush it off smoothly, denying any knowledge or recognition of this because he knows that people know it's you and him. There's no questioning it, really, but he refuses to speak about it simply because he thinks that videos like these should just be enjoyed without any prying questions about it (but he'd make another if you asked...he kinda actually wants to.)

Belphie won't even acknowledge the question- or your sly grin- because he doesn't get why people are blatantly asking about it when your faces were purposefully not in the video. If they know, they know, and he knows a lot of them know who's in it, but either way, it's none of their business. It's just a video for enjoyment (thaat he has saved to his phone because holy shit you really got him with that one-)

[bashful, isn't outright denying it, but isn't outright agreeing]

Levi's face goes beet red the moment he sees mention about your little video and is a stammering mess. That in itself kind of answers the question, for those that didn't know it was you two, but he still never voices his opinion on it. He's used to how things work on the internet, so he's more in his element than some of his brothers, so as long as his face isn't in the frame, he doesn't really care who knows and who doesn't (also bc he was already planning on making another one with the roles reversed, call him a degenerate, but he's into that shit)

Beel has no shame in the video, or in people knowing who it was, he's just little shy because he really enjoyed making it and seeing the wild reactions in the comment section. He'll give you a little smile and do a little innocent shrug at the camera because no one doesn't know it was you and Beel- he literally can't be mistaken. (And, hey, if they loved it so much, he's down with making another one.)

[Immediately gives a shit-eating grin/smirk and confidently agrees]

Mammon perks up at the mention, eyes shining and mouth curving into the most smug, sexy little grin as he blurts out a cheerful 'yep!'. Like Beel's, there's no way anyone doesn't catch on to the fact it was you and him, and even if they didn't, he's all too happy to admit to the video. It was hot, he's confident in himself and his gorgeous mc, and he knows you both ate up the attention that comment section brought (practically aching to do another video and maybe he'll even do a collab this time.)

Satan's acknowledgement is smooth and almost teasing as he agrees that it was him and you. He doesn't care that the video was taken in the RAD library because your faces weren't in the video, so even at his admittance, he can't get in trouble without solid proof. He loves the fact that anytime a demon walks by you two in the library, if they've seen the video, their faces flush down to their necks. He takes pride in having you like that, wherever he pleases (and he'd love to do it again...maybe this time on Lucifer's student council chair.)

Asmo would never deny it because you both looked so gorgeous! And his face is literally in it, I mean...he was so excited to film and post the video, especially having you as his partner, it was like a dream! He welcomes any questions people may have about it and is over the moon at the attention it's still getting. Outright teases the fact that more are in the making and hopes they'll all look forward to it (especially a certain video plan with another sorcerer he's in a pact with)

#obey me x reader #om x reader #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmo x reader #beel x reader #belphie x reader

[lionheartedmusings]

bear with me bc this is gonna be a bit of a long one, but i've seen folks talking about how they're excited to get the horrors back on the qsmp and while i totally agree that i miss those blood-curdling, creepy, uncanny valley sort of scenes... i think the beauty of the overall storyline (as much as it's execution can be criticised ) is that we as the audience are seeing things in a vacuum.

the qsmp storyline is a living breathing player alongside our povs, and while we're aware of that, we're also not always engaging with it. we're getting swept up in the day-to-day of it all and getting lulled into a sense of security that ultimately makes us unable to truly comprehend the horror of the last few months until we take a step back and analyze it bit by bit.

children went missing in the night, leaving only their identifiers behind on empty beds. there were no leads. people looked and looked, and found nothing. parents were mad with concern and grief, and the all-seeing, all-powerful entity that rules their lives trapped in this hamster wheel of an island has no answers.

then, the items left behind on those beds vanish too.

then, there's mind-controlling, happiness inducing drugs being pumped into people against their will. still no news of the children. people are falling apart at the seams.

people are led to a maze where a wheel is spun and everything they have left of the children of this godforsaken island is gone. burned up. what does it mean? no one knows. they have to live on.

suddenly, a game is played. a clone of a dead child shows up, leading some of them into the same maze, forcing them to walk through a maze of doors and corridors, only to find a game of dice orchestrated by an unknown entity.

new people arrive, bearing witness to the hopeless, grim, sad reality of everyone who was already there. there's hope — there's always hope — but my god the pain is overwhelming.

there's clues, but there's not. the government keeping them trapped here against their will still has no answers, nothing to point them in the right direction.

faceless bears go missing.

faceless bodies show up on the streets. bloodied. dead. eaten.

suddenly, there's thunder and lightning and oh! oh, their children! of course they'll get on the train, that's where the children are!

but they're hijacked. stolen. once again, their autonomy is stripped entirely as another entity with power they cannot comprehend forces them to split into factions and compete for... something. their children's lives are on the line and they maim and kill those they call family because they fear they have no choice.

everyone went through hell — purgatory was a bad title for what they went through. it was hell, with no salvation in sight.

when all is said and done, when all the murder and backstabbing is over, they see their children through glass they cannot break. one escapes because chance said so, and the rest are left behind as the ceiling collapses on them.

the world is ending and their salvation is one singular boat a thousand blocks away. lovers can't say goodbye, friends run for their lives together, a father and a son dash desperately with no hope in sight. some stay behind, through choice or chance.

the government official that has made their life hell returns the children to them, and brings some new ones. those new children get carted off to new parents without option (again) and suddenly everything's supposed to be fine! nevermind your friends are gone! nothing to see here!

behind the scenes, the all-seeing all-knowing government is breaking apart, there's something far more horrifying and twisted at play in the background... but it's nothing the islanders can help with. nothing they can do. they have to live on and pretend their golden cage is fine and dandy bc at the end of the day, it's their only option.

one-eyed creatures show up demanding something "of theirs" back and bc humanity is strong, one islander refuses to hand someone kind and innocent off to them.

it dooms them, as their humanity has every single time.

now, they're under attack and they can barely defend themselves despite months of prep and having amazing gear — again, they try their hardest but everything is stacked against them. they fight, and fight, but their children are on the line and that's their main concern.

every fight? there's bodies littering the ground and panicked screams. explosions. chainsaws revving, and worry, and it's a war ten times a week.

a child loses a life, and now it's personal, but what can they do? no one listens to them, no one has ever listened to them.

and in the middle of all of this? their family is still gone, trapped in a wasteland, or missing, or... dead.

there was no funeral for q!maxo bc there's no stopping to smell the roses on quesadilla island, not really. where's slime? where's pol? where's the people who they haven't seen yet? gone, yes, but they don't have time to stop and worry about them. they don't have time to mourn losses and grieve their dead.

luffy, who came to try and help their friends, was stolen and hurt.

those eyeball workers? they were people once, maybe good people. maybe the best people we never got to meet, but they got shifted and changed into something monstrous and out of their control.

my point being: the story that the qsmp is telling is innately horrifying. it's not just creepy — it's twisted, and tragic, and absolutely terrifying. it's about loss of agency and running on an endless hamster wheel of someone else's making, and how you just sort of... live with it after a while.

and i think that's really fucking cool, because like these characters we too get used to the tragedy of life, little by little, and forget to see the whole thing from a bird's eye view (pun intended).

#qsmp #long post #siudghiusdfg THIS IS OVER 1K WORDS SOMEONE SAVE ME

[lis-likes-fics]

Music to My Eyes

Pairings: Finnick Odair x deaf!fem!Reader Word Count: 7.5k words Warnings: Mentions of the Games, so killing and death, mentions of trauma, my attempt at writing sign language, pre-Katniss, no Annie... A/N: Hey, everyone! I watched the Hunger Games a few months ago and had a mini obsession and decided to write for it and only now just got half of my fic done. Since it was running as long as it was, I decided to go ahead and split this into two different parts, but I swear the rest of it is being planned and written. Also A/N: Just FYI, anything written in /slants/ is an indication of something being signed because explaining every little sign just does not work. And, also, Hecton Leary is absolutely done by Peter Capaldi in my mind...just in case you need a visual. I was watching a lot of Doctor Who during this so, get ready to see those intense eyebrows all over the place in this, lmao. Also Also A/N: Special thanks to my beta-reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen who I will be crediting more bc I literally forgot to last time and she's too amazing for that! Thanks, Vee! 💖

You don't love wearing dresses—especially not extravagant ones like these, more expensive than likely your entire district as a whole. You also don't love parties like these where you have to wear said dresses, surrounded by tons of people generating body heat and stuffing the room full of perfumes and colognes that make your nose and eyes burn. Your feet hurt from the heels your designer paired with your outfit, and the air is active with words and voices that overwhelm your brain with too much information to take.

Having Hecton beside you is a relief at least—not completely lost in a sea of people as he and you communicate with two rich sponsors from District 1 dressed just a slight less dramatic as you but just as exaggerated.

You watch their lips, painted over with bright colors complementing their attire, as they speak to you. "It must be so hard, isn't it?" the woman asks, spending too much time on "so" as she speaks slowly for you to comprehend. You want to roll your eyes. "Flailing about all the time just to get a few words out?"

The man next to her agrees, nodding his head. You can see his throat shift, and you assume he's hummed a response.

Hecton's hands move with skill as he speaks, partly as aid in translation for you but mostly for the performance people are looking for.

You feel like your lips are going to fall off, you can almost feel them twitching at the ends from how long you've been smiling at all these people who don't know anything about you and assume they know everything.

You widen your smile to show teeth and shake your head, continuing to be as respectful as you can with your social tolerance running low.

Your hands move and, out of the corner of your eye, you can see Hecton speaking as they do. "Not really," he translates. "It's natural for me."

The man puts a hand over his heart and turns to her. "Oh, you poor thing," he says rather dramatically. Hecton doesn't dignify his words by translating that for you—not that you needed it in the first place. His hands remain still, folded in front of him. The man glances toward them, and you can see his brief disappointment at his words not receiving the glory of illustration.

You glance up at Hecton, your smile intact as you slightly squint the corners of your eyes in a silent plea. He answers you gracefully, turning his attention back to the fashionable vultures in front of him.

"This was wonderful," he says, "but I believe our little lady is excited to meet other guests here tonight."

Hecton is an older man with grey hair, pale eyes, and intense brows. Upon looking at him, he isn't the most approachable man. You don't just say no to him—especially as a past victor of the Games who certainly triumphed by a long-shot. He is not weakened by age, but he's definitely wisened by it. Although sobered by surviving the horrors of the Games, it neither slowed nor ruined his life, it simply gave an abrupt end to what little childhood people of Districts like yours can obtain.

One look at the finality on his face and they were fully ready to end their (rather insulting) conversation. They turn to one another, making these awful pity-faces as they hold each other's hands and turn back to heartily agree. "Of course." She puts too much emphasis on the words. "Goodbye, dear."

You nod gently and look toward Hecton for confirmation as he places a hand on your back and turns with you. You both walk away from the conversation gratefully, still smiling for everyone else in the room but moving your hands in silent conversation.

/These people are exhausting,/ you complain, entirely within your right with the way they treat you.

Hecton sighs, looking at you with eyes that understand your struggle. /Just keep them happy./

You nod, remaining light-hearted for both your sakes as you offer a genuine smile before you slip back into a customer service front. /I know, I know./

Lots of eyes are on you tonight, but none so keen as a certain boy across the room. He has basically been watching you all night, intrigued by the way you've been communicating, by the way you draw so much attention without having spoken a single word since you arrived.

He has seen you around a few times—on television, at other parties. He knows your face and that you won the Games like him, but he's never paid enough attention to actually know anything past that. But now, observing you all night, he's interested enough to ask.

His elbow brushes the guy next to him, a victor from another district he doesn't care to specify right now. "Who is that again?" he asks, not taking his eyes off of you as his friend turns to look. "I've seen her a couple times, never remember."

He looks at you and then back at him. "Her?" he gestures vaguely toward you. He nods.

"Victor from District 10, she won the 67th Games." He takes a sip from his drink, leaning back against a table with a hand in his pocket. "Surprised everyone cause she," he shrugged, "can't hear or something."

That definitely caught his attention as he turned full bodied toward him. "Really?"

"Yeah," he swirled his drink around. "She's nice…in a little bunny sort of way." It's not necessarily an insult, more than it is him calling you soft-hearted and skittish.

He walks away without a word, finally making his way toward you to quell his curiosity as he approaches you and takes his sweet time about it.

Your back is turned to him. He briefly wonders the best way to get your attention on the way over, knowing you hate being tapped by the way your shoulders flinch and you strain a smile when you turn.

Then again, no one likes tapping.

When he reaches you, he just folds his hands behind his back and smiles. "Hello," he says simply. Hecton turns at the greeting, prompting you to do the same.

"I'm Finnick. Finnick Odair," he greets with a smile of his own as he regards the both of you. He watches the way the old man's hand moves on his name. Your hand reaches out and interrupts him as you place a gentle palm on top of his. He makes a face—it's not annoyed, just teasing.

You turn back to Finnick, your performance smiling still intact. Hecton speaks while you sign. For a moment, Finnick thinks he'll understand the movements you make—Mags doesn't speak, she has to use her hands to communicate all the time, surely it couldn't be that different—but he is proven wrong when words don't match waves.

"I know who you are. You won the 65th Games, you're from District 4." Finnick thinks, briefly, that your friend's voice doesn't match you at all (which is obvious, of course, but he feels it's worth pointing out).

"Well, then," he responds with a slight chuckle, only glancing for a moment at the way Hecton's hands move as he talks, "I'm flattered you know me. Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same for you…"

You seem surprised by that. He thinks it may have something to do with the way that you haven't had many moments away from conversation since you arrived. Everyone has been too taken by you, too interested in snatching a few minutes.

Your hands don't start moving in that curious way Finnick likes to watch because words are already being spoken. "Mr. Odair, this is Y/N Y/L/N. I am her mentor and translator, Hecton Leary."

Finnick holds out a hand, which each of you shake. Out of courtesy, he doesn't start talking again until after your hands are free. "Wonderful to meet you both. And, please, Finnick is fine. There's no need for formalities when we could be friends, right?"

You still smile as you begin to sign, though your brows furrow. /Why exactly do I want to be your friend?/

Finnick doesn't understand, looking at Hecton for translation. He only says your name, a sort of reprimand as he continues to smile.

/I'm only being honest./

Where you expected frustration from not understanding, you find amusement in Finnick's eyes as his genuine smile widens and he looks between the both of you. "What am I missing?"

Hecton looks at you, raising a large brow and waiting for your reply. You sigh gently and shake your head, remaining civil as you begin to sign.

"Sorry," he speaks for you. "I look forward to establishing friendship with another fellow Victor. Maybe one day we'll…" Hecton gets quiet as he just watches your hands continue to move and your lips continue to smile, full of amusement.

/We'll frolic in the woods together, holding hands and singing songs./

Hecton turns full body to you. He holds his palms apart and brings them together swiftly without clapping them. /Y/N./

You smile wider and hold your hands in surrender, the tiny sound of a giggle slipping out of you. You're otherwise silent as your hands fly. /I'm joking! Tell him it was nice to meet him, and I look forward to being friends./

Hecton eyes you momentarily before relenting, turning back to Finnick with exasperation. "She says it was a pleasure meeting you, and she looks forward to your friendship."

Finnick raises his brows, bowing his head gently. "The pleasure is all mine." He's a charmer, and he makes that clear by reaching out and slowly, softly taking your hand in his (his grasp is so gentle that you could easily take your hand back if you wanted and he wouldn't stop you). He bends forward, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. He straightens his spine and watches you fondly. "Until we meet again."

As he lets go of your hand, he bows his head once more before he walks away. You and Hecton watch him leave. He raises his own brow at you. "Is that blush I see?"

Your hands are quick and exaggerated as you move them. You know he's joking and you're not blushing, but his teasing makes you. /No!/

Hecton's smile is wide and open and you know he's laughing at you, so you call him out for being mean. He drops it just as quickly, once the joke has faded to a funny memory and you both are back to mingling with people who do not care about you.

~

The halls are empty this late in the night. Everyone has retired to their rooms or taken an early train home. It's peaceful, wandering the halls this late and being undisturbed by curious eyes and ears watching you like some wild animal. You enjoy the silence—the physical silence of steady air and only one set of footsteps to track instead of hundreds.

At the end of the hall you wander now is the elevator that takes you to your level. Hecton will be wondering where you are—and if not, it's probably time for you to retire for the night before the victor's interviews with Lucky tomorrow anyway. As you make your way toward it, the lights bright and beckoning, you stop in front of it and click the door button.

It's as the doors are sliding open that you realize you're no longer alone in the dead of this night. You feel it in the prickle of your skin, the change in the weight of the floor beneath you. You look over quickly where the side of your face heats with a new presence.

You see Finnick approaching you, seemingly pleased to see you as he smiles at you, stopping short of the doors to offer you first entry. You grin hesitantly, your confidence from before waning a little with the absence of your mentor and translator. If he tries to talk to you, you're probably going to have a rough night. You press the tenth floor button. He presses the fourth.

Finnick isn't as pessimistic, glancing at you out of the corner of your eyes as you stand with your fingers tangled and your eyes toward the ground. You don't look nearly as cocky this time around—in fact, you seem nervous, refusing to even give him that small, awkward smile you usually receive when stuck in a space next to someone you don't know.

Finnick licks his lips, and speaks before he can correct himself. "Hello," he says, giving you a charming smile before immediately remembering your certain disability.

His curiosity grows when you raise your head, glancing his way but not quite committing.

"Oh, right," he mumbles. His added words spark your attention once more as you finally look at him, moving your hand in a talking motion.

"Yeah," he responds. "How did you know?" You're deaf, but you could tell that he was speaking without even looking at him?

He watches you think for a moment, staring off to try and figure out a way to tell him without Hecton to aid you. You look at him again, raising a hand palm down and shaking it.

"Shaking?" he guesses, raising a confused brow.

You gestured around the elevator, your face etched in concentration, determined to be understood. You sometimes forget how hard communication can actually be for you.

"The room?" he tries. "The room is shaking?"

You make a face, one that says "not quite".

He thinks for a moment, putting your gestures together before it dawns on him. "The air is moving."

You smile, far too happy to have successfully gotten a point across.

Finnick's brows raise, though not in a mocking or upset way. "Is everything really that sensitive for you?"

'It has to be,' you want to say, but you can't. You can read lips, but moving your own to try and copy them is a completely different story. Instead, you just nod and agree.

"I heard that's how you won the Games," he said, before adding on the end with a genuinely impressed smile. "Very cool, by the way." He had spent an embarrassing amount of time—or it would be embarrassing if he actually cared about that—asking party comers about you. Most of the information he got was about the Games, always about the Games. He got the same answers from just about everyone about how you were just so sweet and how it was so inspiring how your lack of hearing helped you to win.

As much as that sweet grin on your face made you want to smile, he wasn't technically right. So you shook your head, and he watched you raise your hands to cover your eyes.

"You were blind?" he wonders, but that doesn't make any sense and he doesn't feel very smart for asking now.

You shake your head and do it again, this time pulling your hands away and then covering your face again.

"You hid," he answers. That makes more sense.

You nod and he hums.

You didn't win the Hunger Games by killing for being killed, you didn't win by joining alliances or traveling in groups and pairs. You won the Games by running and hiding until everyone had killed each other.

When the Gamemakers used their tricks and schemes to flush you out of your hiding places, you found another one to lay low until the end. Yes, there were times when you had to fight for your life, but you were no strong competitor. It was dumb luck that you won. Right up to the end, facing off with the almost-champion after having been hunted down by Mutts. He killed them, and then he tried to kill you.

And that was when your disability was labeled your greatest weapon.

Maybe one day you'll be able to tell him that.

The doors slid open to reveal Finnick's floor. You both linger there in the elevator for a moment, trying to decide what to do from there.

Truly, you should have just waved at him and let the doors close to take you to your own floor. It was late already, you needed to rest.

But…

"Do you like sweets?"

Yes, you do.

You nod, answering his charming smile with a shy one and being upset with yourself in the back of your mind for falling for his obvious charm. If you got hurt, it was on you and no one else. But who cares?

You, you care. Maybe not enough, though.

You follow him off the elevator and into the common room. The kitchen is just off of it, with a long table cleared of dinner but still adorned with snacks—fruits and a few deserts. Finnick slides over a plate of cookies as you take a seat. They're chocolate and very good.

He sits across from you, a little too keen in the way he leans forward. He picks up a cookie between his thumb and forefinger, playing with it absent-mindedly as he speaks.

"Is that," he waves one hand, "usually how you communicate?" He hopes he doesn't sound offensive and takes a bite from his cookie.

You don't seem offended as you shrug. He watches you move your hand like you're grasping a pen, shifting it around in a circle. He understands and, like a dog, goes to grab the supplies for you, dropping his cookie back on the table with little to no regard. He's not necessarily upset about his obedience, if anything, he's happy to let you boss him around—not that you have been—if it means quenching his genuine curiosity with how you operate.

He slides you a notebook as he reclaims his seat, gently slapping a pen on top with a cheeky grin. He seems proud of himself. You hold in your chuckle as you write with the best handwriting you can with the quickness of your scribbles.

/Signing or writing./

Finnick reads it off. He thinks your handwriting is pretty.

"Does it get tiring?" he asks, cookie forgotten in crumbs on the counter. He absent-mindedly pushes it to the side so he can lean closer. "Moving your hands like that all the time?"

His question is one you get often, a repeated question every person asks to suit their shallow interest in you. But you can't bring yourself to be offended or annoyed. Finnick doesn't seem shallow, his curiosity runs deep and his kindness deeper. You're not sure you could take anything he says with offense.

You simply shake your head. /Easy as it is for you to talk,/ you answer honestly, adding the gesture for "speak" at the end to try to be helpful.

He shouldn't be impressed, but he is. "Oh," he says, brows raised in vivid interest. "Is it easy to learn?"

He's full of questions. He knows he probably sounds like a child, piling them on top of each other like tidal waves. But you don't seem upset, so he carries on.

You shrug again.

/Would not know. Depends on person./ You look up at him, and then you add, /You want to learn?/

The way you write is interesting to him. You don't do it in full sentences in an effort to keep it short and simple. But you also don't use contractions, though you try to write as quickly as possible to keep up the feel and consistency of actually speaking.

He smiles slyly and pretends to be shy about it, bowing his head and looking up at you through pretty lashes. "Maybe," he says. "Could you teach me?"

You mirror his expression, bowing your chin toward your chest and smiling at him. /Maybe./

You finish your cookie and rip off the first page to turn to another. He watches you write out the alphabet, quickly scribbling a very poor illustration of a hand gesture underneath each one. It takes a while, longer than you wished for it to.

Finnick doesn't mind. While you're distracted with the activity at hand, he's watching you. You're very pretty, he thinks. With the way you sit to draw, you keep your body open and give yourself the room you need to still see him as you work.

You've got kind eyes. He doesn't think you get that enough. Everyone calls you a sweet girl, but they usually follow it up with something along the lines of "even with her issue".

But Finnick just thinks you're pretty and kind. That's it. No exceptions.

He wants to learn about you without the tainting of word-of-mouth or television programs. He wants to know you. The stuff you love, the stuff you hate, everything that makes you happy, and the stuff that makes you want to throw chairs. He wants to know what your favorite color is, if you like to dance or paint or swim.

Before he can keep daydreaming about whether you like cats or dogs, you look up at him to show off your work. You think it's sloppy. He thinks you did great.

You start going through it with him, showing him the hand signs as you get to them with a patience that amazes him. Once you've gone through the whole of it once, he lifts his own hand to try it out. He looks weird and silly, and you smile as he tries his best.

When he offers a poor attempt at a 'Q', a giggle manages to slip. You probably don't hear it, but Finnick certainly does. His face lights up at the sound. He had heard you make little more than a sigh. Managing to pull a giggle out of you—especially one as pretty as that? It's like winning the lottery.

He goes through it with you a couple more times before he straightens his spine. "So…"

He points to his chest and holds his hand out, slowly moving it to fit the gestures he's tried.

F. I. N. N. I. C. K.

You nod quickly, beaming from ear to ear at how quickly he's picked it up already. You point to yourself and spell your own name out. You move slowly, giving him time to connect each letter to each sign as you go. And when you finish, he spells it himself. A nearly perfect copy, (although perfect may be generous, he's definitely trying and it shows—that's perfect enough in your book).

You carefully tear the page out and set it to the side so he can still see and write excitedly on the next page, your writing almost terrible with how quickly you scribble. /Natural!/

You sign the word after. He copies you, and then tries to spell it out. He gets it right for the most part—even though you're pretty sure you saw him use an 'X' instead of an 'R'.

He really wants to impress you. He doesn't make that subtle, and you're honestly happy he doesn't. It makes you genuinely giddy, the way he's so eager to learn and show off his new skill (a skill he's literally been practicing for no more than ten minutes). You don't realize how far onto the table you've learned. Your hands would brush if you moved them an inch closer.

"I'll keep at it," he replies genuinely at your proud smile. He had no idea someone so silent could be so pleasantly loud. Your ecstatic movements and wide grins compensate for your lack of vocalization. When you speak through your hands or the notebook in front of you, he almost swears he can hear a voice he hasn't heard in place of it, so kind and pretty. Like a song.

You smile too fondly at him, taking in a soft breath before looking down at your hands and sitting back again. You'd gotten ahead of yourself. You don't correct it as much as you should. You're just as fond as you sit correctly in your seat and watch him with intense interest.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you pick up your pen again. He watches you write something down. You turn the book around for him to see.

/Mentor cannot speak?/

"Mags?" he wonders. You nod, tilting your head. "No."

You write again. /Cannot sign?/

"No."

You tilt your head and furrow your brows, a silent inquiry. He shrugs, "Never learned."

You contemplate for a moment, rubbing your neck gently before taking the notepad once more. You show it to him.

/Can teach./ You point to yourself, offering a small grin.

"Really?" he furrows his brow.

You shrug. Why not?

Finnick stares at you a moment, searching your eyes for a joke he knows he won't find. So why would you be so open to helping her? Maybe you're just weird.

His lips curl in a smile. "I'll ask her."

Your own smile grows.

He drums his fingers on the table, watching you watching him. He thinks for a moment, just staring, before he opens his mouth.

"So obviously, you can read lips." You nod. "Were you born deaf?"

You nod and reach for the notepad once again. It takes you a moment to write this time. /Parents did not find out til 2. Was a quiet kid. Did not realize until I never started speaking./

He's so interested in everything you tell him. He hangs onto your every word like pure gold. "So you've never heard anything before? Ever?"

He feels like it's a dumb question. Of course not. But you hesitate, glancing off before you nod.

/Yes./

His eyes go wide with wonder. "How?" He crosses his arms and leans forward on the table.

You thought for another moment, trying to find the best way to phrase it to keep it simple. You tap the pen against your lips and click click click it.

/Before the 67th Games, my team gifted me hearing aids. Thought it would help./ You pull away for him to read, staring at the page before taking it and adding in a new line, /Didn't think I'd make it deaf./

The look on your face told him how much that bothered you—or, at least, a whisper of how much it used to bother you. He thinks you may be used to it by now…

"Seemed to work, huh?" he asks with a slight chuckle in an attempt to brighten your mood again.

But you shake your head as you pull the notepad back. /When Games started, too much. Ripped them out and ran./ You sigh gently, swallowing thickly. /Couldn't handle it./

He listens in, his full attention heeding your words. "So you never wear them?"

You shake your head. /Do not like to./

He nods gently. "Because it hurt?" he asks, trying to understand.

You think for a moment before raising your hand and shaking it like before, meaning a different thing this time. /Kind of,/ you write.

You sigh and raise your hands, loosely clawed in front of you as you bring them into your chest in fists. Then you pick up your pen to translate. /Trust me?/

He nods. "Yeah."

/Sure?/

His second nod is more firm. "Yes."

He watches you grab a hand towel. You lift it up, gesturing to him with it and he nods his approval once again. You step behind him and tie it around his head to cover his eyes.

After you blindfold him, sure that he no longer has sight, you turn off all the lights and spin him around a couple times before you lead him into the living room.

Without his sight, Finnick is reduced to having to let you lead him where you want him. And he trusts you. He sways on his feet for a moment, standing still when you stop guiding him again.

"Can I look now?" he asks, his hands out by his side blindly if not for anything but balance.

He hears your voice, the slight sound of you clearing your throat before humming gently, like you're feeling for it. Then he hears your broken response, unaccustomed to actually speaking.

"N-o," you mumble. He smiles a little, and you think he's weird—in a good way.

After a moment of silence where the both of you just stand there and do nothing, he feels you begin to remove the towel from his face. You don't give him a chance to adjust to the dark, you just flip the closest light on and let him have it.

He winces, shielding his face as the shock sets in. You smile gently as you apologize, rubbing your fist over your chest in a circle. When his eyes adjust to the light once more to look at you, your smile is still a fond apology as you motion to your ears.

He breathes lightly. “That’s what it felt like for you?” You make a “bigger” motion with your hands as you nod. “That’s awful,” he mumbles.

You shrug as you begin to walk back to the dining table to grab your pen and notepad again. As you take a seat on the sofa, you bring your legs up under you and invite him to sit beside you. He watches you write something as you prop the notepad against your thighs. You show it to him when you finish.

/What do you like to do?/

He is happy to answer as he settles back and thinks for a moment before offering his reply. You sit and talk back and forth for a long time. You don’t really keep track as you learn that Finnick loves to swim and he dabbles in cooking when he can. You learn that he likes the color blue, but his favorite color is probably white. You learn that he is a “live life like it’s your last day” type of person because of his experience with the games (a philosophy you have adopted yourself in a smaller intensity). You learn that he’s more fond of the quiet than the rowdy crowds he’s grown accustomed to.

Finnick learns that you also like the water, but you enjoy sitting under the surface and feeling like the world is just as silent as you in a way that isn’t so interesting to the rest of the world. He learns that you don’t have a favorite color but you always say green, that you’re not a people person but everyone thinks you’re a person who loves people, and that you like to watch Hecton play the guitar while he lets you set your hand on the body of it to feel what he plays.

You don’t know when you fall asleep on the couch, laying against the back of it with your head turned toward the large, cushy pillow that supports your head. You’re curled up against it, and Finnick thinks you look precious. He’s not long after you as he dozes off on the couch. Neither of you touch at all, hands to yourself as you let the night ease on around you. But the presence is comfortable enough, you’re happy for it.

But sometime in the night, you don’t know when, how long the passage of time had gotten to be, the calm that had set over you slowly began to fade and slip into something a little more unnerving. Uneasiness sets in your bones, makes you queasy as your fingers twitch. You hum, a groan that slips from between your lips and rouses Finnick as he opens his eyes and glances your way, eyes still heavy with sleep.

He starts to sit up as he sees you shift, your breath quickened and your muscles twitching. He calls your name gently, a first instinct he immediately realizes isn’t going to work. He hears you hum again and begins to reach a hand out. His fingers hardly brush the skin of your arm when your eyes suddenly open. You’re muttering something intelligible to yourself as you glance around frantically, eyes glazed over and movements full of adrenaline.

“Woah, you’re good,” he tries as you grip the cushions on the couch. It’s too warm and it’s cushy and you don’t want to be up there anymore. He’s still trying to ease you, hands out like you’re a frightened animal ready to attack him. You slide off the couch and onto the floor, where the cold hardwood greets your skin as you catch your breath, your face tucked between your arms as your whole body heaves for air.

He lets you stay there, concern written all over his face as he tries to figure out what the issue is. He guesses they’re just nightmares, bad, ugly nightmares that he, himself, has faced over and over and over again. He waits and waits and waits for your body to steady and for your breath to calm, keeping his hands out but away as he waits for you to recover.

When you’ve calmed down again, you lift your head and sit back against the floor, turning toward him with lethargic muscles, your adrenaline already waning as the exhaustion from before trumps everything else. You catch the movement of Finnick’s lips from out of the corner of your eye and turn to see him speak. “What’s wrong?”

You breathe in slowly, filling your whole chest as you gather yourself enough to answer. You stroke a circle over your chest with your fist, a movement he remembers seeing you do earlier when you were apologizing to him. He shakes his head gently, slowly shifting off of the couch to join you on the floor, giving you space as he props his elbow on the cushion.

“S’okay,” he says, his lips moving gently around the word. “What happened?”

You breathe out slowly, still centering yourself. You lean toward the table, sliding the notepad over with lazy movements. You contemplate before writing. /Vibrations./ You show it to him and he tilts his head. /I sleep with my hand on the floor. It lets me know if someone is coming, I can feel the footsteps in the ground. It wakes me up and keeps me out of trouble./

The way you write is different now, filling the missing blanks of words you’d usually leave out because they were unnecessary. Like you’re too tired to summarize, letting the words do their job as you slump against the table like you haven’t slept in ages and are simply going through the motions.

He moves slowly, letting you see what’s happening before it happens as he sets his hand atop your own on the table. You don’t move, glancing at his hand and letting it happen as his skin brushes yours. He feels honored.

“Well,” he says, “you’re safe here.” With me.

You manage to pull the corners of your lips up into a small smile, turning your hand so his rests in your palm. You raise your free hand to your chin. /Thank you./ You take a moment to sit there, looking at each other and enjoying the feelings of your hand in the other’s. Then you pull your hand away regretfully and pick up your pen.

/I should get back to my floor before my people worry./

He reads it off and nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he sighs, already moving to stand to his feet as he holds his hand out to help you, hoping you would accept. When you do, he smiles. You lift yourself to your feet and give him another of your best in this condition.

You pick up the notepad one more time. /Thank you for the sweets. And for the company. I liked talking with you./

He puts a hand to his heart, too heartfelt to be teasing as he dips his head slightly. “My pleasure.”

Finnick walks with you to the elevator, standing by you in silence after the button is pressed as you both wait for the doors to slide open. When they do, you step in and offer yet another warm smile as you sigh and wave, mouthing the word “bye” as you depart from him, sad to go. He mouths the word back to you, though you’re not positive he spoke them as he offers a small wave of his own.

The doors shut and Finnick misses you already.

~

The blaring lights, (otherwise) deafening crowds, and extravagant costumes are something you get used to and never get used to all at once. All the attention is on you, and it's your job to make sure they are entertained as you make your way onto the stage with Hecton's at your side.

Lucky is standing, that unnervingly large grin tearing his face in two as he watches you excitedly. His hand is extended toward you, both to show you off and welcome you in.

"Hello, my dear!" he exclaims theatrically as he takes your hand. He places a kiss to your knuckles and then shakes Hecton's hand as well. You all take your seats, your smile the picture of thrilled.

"It's been a while since we have last spoken, hasn't it?" He stops dramatically and then says, "Well, a while since I spoke to you, at least." The air is on the fritz with cheers and laughter and more clapping as you look around at everyone. Lucky's laughter is just as wide. "How have you been, Y/N?"

You look at Hecton, your smile and his set in perfection. He speaks as you sign, beginning his role as your ultimate translator. "I've been great, Lucky. I've missed you!"

His big brows furrow as he slaps a hand over his heart. He turns to the adoring fans. "Oh, isn't that sweet?" He laughs again and looks back at you, his expression calmer but no less dramatic. "I have also missed you, my dear. Now, tell me, this is a tour for some of our previous victors, have you met any of them yet?" He leans in like you're sharing a secret.

"I'm glad you asked, I have. It's been great getting to be reacquainted with old friends and making new ones."

"Ooo," he says, looking around and encouraging the crowd to join in. "New ones like who?" He sits up straight and brings a finger to his lips, glancing away and smiling slyly. "I know I have it from a reliable source that you were mingling with District 4 Champion, Finnick Odair." He leans forward with narrowed eyes. "Do I sense something blossoming?"

He and the crowd tease you, making lovey dovey noises that you don't hear but definitely feel as you glance at Hecton and he raises his thick brows in amusement.

"Oh, Lucky," you smile like you'll laugh as Hecton continues to read your hands. "I wish I could agree, but who am I to say?" You shrug it off with a sigh.

"Oh, really?" he jabs. "Because when I brought it up with Finnick, I believe he described you as 'a special kind of beauty'." This riles the crowd up even more, they cheer louder and the air feels suffocating. You smile through it.

"Did he now?"

"He did."

Lucky laughs dramatically, Hecton laughs less dramatically, and the crowd eats right out of the palm of your hands.

"Well," Hecton says as you catch the attention again, "you know I'm not one to gossip."

"Ohh, not just this once?" He says it like he'll cry.

"I wish I could."

He sighs heavily. "Oh, well." The crowds 'aww's and you give an apologetic smile to them all. Lucky leans over and takes your hand in his, which you then cover with your own. "It has been lovely catching up with you, my dear. And you, too, Hecton, my friend." Hecton nods. "I hope to see you again soon, both of you—I do so love our talks!"

"As do I, Lucky. As do I."

He puts both hands over his chest this time, smiling with sadness to see you go. "Would you give us a kiss before you go?"

You stand to face the crowd and kiss your hand, blowing it out to them as they scream and shout for you. You beam and look at them all, waving happily.

"Oh, fantastic!" Lucky exclaims as he stands to join your side, Hecton at the other. He takes one of your hands again. "It is always a pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine."

He turns to the adoring audience. "Our Silent Spectacle, everybody!"

They scream and shout and you press your cheeks to Lucky's before you and Hecton leave the stage. Even after you're past the curtain where they can no longer see you, you keep the smile as wide as you can until it trembles out of place.

/Very well done, Y/N,/ Hecton congratulates.

You huff out a tiring breath, massaging your cheeks before regaining your posture and masking your frown with a much softer smile as you respond. /It's exhausting./

He offers a sympathetic look. /Maybe so, but they love it./ He glances at you again, noticing the fatigue in your eyes and your twitching lips, the nerves kicking from overuse. He sighs, taking your hand and turning you to him.

/You've got to keep them happy./

You look at him, how his words reflected a deeper worry, a double meaning that surpasses the gratification of your adoring crowds. Your eyes glue to his own, solemn, sober—a fair contrast from the faces surrounding you, drunk on the sap of their own self-importance.

/I know,/ you nod.

The tense moment is interrupted as a new player enters the arena. Hecton is the one to turn first, redirecting your attention toward the person approaching you. You immediately smile, an instinct by this point as you turn your gaze on your next audience. It only takes a moment for you to recognize the person, and your smile comes a little easier.

Seeing the situation before he approaches, Finnick wonders whether or not it would be appropriate to interrupt. But when your mentor turns and you turn with him, and you smile a more genuine smile upon seeing him, he finds that he doesn't really care if it's appropriate right now.

"You're quite the personality," he says as he steps up, smiling himself as he tilts his head.

"They love quiet, happy girls," Hecton translates as you sign. Finnick really doesn't think his voice suits you, coarse and thick with an accent hard to find.

"That, they do," he nods. He licks his bottom lip, "So you'll be headed back off today?"

You turn toward Hecton, your jaw clenching briefly before you turn back. "Soon. I've got some business tonight and then we'll be off tomorrow."

"Business?" he raises a curious brow, taking a small step forward as his lips quirked. "What kind of business?"

You tilt your chin, a nervous kind of smile on your lips as you move a hooked finger from your nose to your cupped hand. "Nosey," you tease, though Hecton speaks it flatly.

"Oh, it's a secret?" he wonders, even more curious now. He doesn't speak like a creep as he continues, holding that same teasing feeling while also offering his genuine curiosity. "I have a thing for secrets, y'know. I can keep it safe for you…"

You do it again, with a little more delight this time. Again, Hecton's translation holds no ounce of the delight you give off as you talk to Finnick. "Nosey," he repeats, this time with a little more sternness to get him to stop asking. You give him a side glance, but he isn't affected.

Before you can communicate anything else, Hecton's sets his hand on your lower back. It isn't patronizing, he's just used to guiding you, your protector.

"Come now, Y/N," he says. "It's time we were off."

You sigh gently but nod, still smiling as you glanced up at him. You begin to wave to Finnick, but he speaks as you're waving your hand.

"Am I free to visit down in District 10?" he asks, his tone light and playful to avoid sounding as hopeful as he feels. He's just met you, and he wants to know you.

You nod quickly, too eager. You move two fingers over your fist, missing the way Hecton doesn't translate. But Finnick can figure that one out himself.

His chest floods with relief. "I'll keep it in mind."

You wave. /Goodbye, Finnick./ The way you sign his name is different. Where he is expecting to see the familiar letters you showed him last night, he finds a wave of your hands and a fond smile.

He winks at you. "Goodbye, sweetcheeks."

You scrunch your nose, circling your hand over your belly. /Gross./

Hecton is already walking you away as Finnick blows you a cheesy kiss, mirroring the one you'd done for the audience earlier. You wave him off, smiling and shaking your head as you go.

When you're far enough from him, walking away from backstage to wherever you were headed now, Hecton's intense brows are furrowed in what you can only assume is annoyance at his distrust in Finnick.

/You seemed familiar./

/Stop./

Music to My Eyes taglist: ... This is a temporary taglist for those who want to be tagged in the sequel to Music to My Eyes, Finnick Odair x Reader. Please keep in mind that once the second part is posted, the tag will disappear. Feel free to DM, comment, or send me an ask to be added, if you would like. Or simply add yourself here...

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x fem!reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfic #the hunger games fanfiction #finnick odair fluff #reader insert #female reader #deaf reader

[mrmiserymushroom]

one of my personal favorite tropes it’s the “well, we are really close and get along pretty well! they’re one of the best people in the world and one of my best friends. We hook up and good he fucks me so well and sometimes i fantasize about getting married but it’s not like i’m head over hills for them! NO NO NO NO NOPE. NO HOMO!!! TOTALLY BUDDIES BEING BUDDIES! but oh lord if you touch them I SWEAR TO FUCKING-” and i am was absolutely enchanted that this new episode got all of that!!

I also got to understand fizzy a lot more and now he (and maybe Ozzie) is my favorite character after Stolas!

I love how he and Blitz made up after a long time, even though I thought it was kinda quickly (or maybe i was just way too anxious and excited about my hyperfixation getting a new episode). I loved to see Blitzo getting to fix his mistakes and apologizing. I loved seeing him and fizzy talking and making jokes and arguing bc they’re so goddamn funny and have so much connection! Their friendship got my heart warm :]

I was a bit heartbroken about Stolas and how worried he was about his situation with Blitz. but I’m happy he seems to have a friend who will help him a bit and seems he can count on!

I LOVED FIZZAROLLI’S SONG OMG???? it was so yummy and nice and coool and AARSHAJDJAKSKAKSDKS

overall i REALLY loved this episode! Helluva Boss’s have been one of my hyperfixations and helped me through some really hard times. dunno if this is normal but i but i got so happy and excited about my hyperfixation having new content i actually got depressed and needed to take some SOS and go for a walk???? helloooo whatever the GAD and Depression are doing to me this is one of the craziest.

I get really REALLY insecure with talking about Helluva Boss on my socials and with anyone in general since i know the creator of it has some bad reputation and did really shitty things and the Hazbin Hotel series is pretty much hated for what i can see.

yeah i was afraid of what people would think about me if i tell them i hyperfixate on Helluva Boss and worried if they would thought i agree with any of the bad stuff that goes behind the creator and stuff.

so i just thought it would be a good idea if i just posted about it here (since a lot of people liked my helluva boss drawings) and take this stuff out of my chest to calm down my post anxiety attack. yeah thats it thanks if you read until this point :]

so yeah one of my favorites episodes so far!!! <3

#helluva boss #blitzo #blitz #blitzø #helluva blitz #helluva blitzo #helluva boss blitzø #stolas #fizzarolli #ozzies #helluva boss ozzie #helluva boss fizz x ozzie #helluva boss fizzarolli #fizzozzie #helluva boss new episode #helluva boss s2e6 #vent i guess? #yeah idk #:) hehe

[fushisagi]

love and all its cons

୨୧ ━━ ❛ it’s difficult for one to familiarize themselves with the mystery that is your and isagi’s relationship, something that significantly blurs the line between friends and lovers. ❜

word count ⋆ 7.2k (7,278) genre ⋆ fluff, secret established relationship, 5+1 ━ pro-football player!isagi, pro-volleyball player & gn!reader

after months of you and isagi sending each other shy smiles, yearning glances, and dancing around your feelings, bachira decides it’s time for him and the rest of the team to intervene. mission: get isagi a significant other is a go!

warnings ⋆ alcohol consumption, all characters are 20+, everyone is a little bit of an idiot and oblivious, (brief) jealous isagi, i snuck in hinata from haikyuu!! in here bc i love him sorry, that’s it i think lmk if i missed anything!

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Bachira immediately knows something’s wrong when Itoshi Rin of all people agrees with him.

The whole team is taken aback by it, too, showing their surprise with wide eyes and thinly veiled confusion. Towards the back, Reo opens up the news app on his phone, muttering about how Rin’s agreement must be some sort of bad omen, an indication that the world is ending.

“I’m sorry,” Chigiri starts, eyes narrowed, “did you just agree with Bachira? Like, willingly?”

Rin tsks, throwing all of them a look of annoyance. “Yes.”

“Are you sick or something?”

Reo finally makes his concern known, clutching his chest dramatically as he declares, “Oh, God. I really should’ve been a survivalist. Does anyone want to come to the store with me to buy non-perishables?”

Nagi sighs tiredly, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. “Reo, it’s too early for you to be overdramatic.”

“It is 5pm. Practice just ended.”

Nagi responds with a yawn.

Bachira snaps out of his daze with a shake of his head. He grabs onto Rin’s arm despite the boy growling at him to let go, and forces the team into a huddle with a conspiring smile on his face. They watch him warily; a grin like that could only mean trouble, and the last time Bachira managed to drag them into his shenanigans, they ended up being slandered on national television for breaking and entering.

(He had somehow convinced the entire team it would be funny to break into Ego’s house and scare him awake).

(It was not funny. Practices for the next three months were grueling).

“We should set them up together!” Bachira exclaims delightfully.

For a moment, nobody speaks. Then, everyone looks over to Kunigami who, just last week, had come to practice with a venomous bite in his words after going on a date with someone Bachira set him up with.

Almost immediately, everyone’s voices overlap as ideas are shut down and new ones are suggested, unaware of you and Isagi watching them with a mixture of amusement and confusion. While his teammates aren’t looking, Isagi presses a kiss to your cheek and grabs you by the wrist to the farthest side of the field, where the both of you can discuss your plans for dinner without worrying about someone hearing you.

“We should just lock them up in the supply closet,” Reo says.

Kunigami shakes his head. “That would be a disaster.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I just do.”

Zantetsu muses, “Should we send both of them flowers and sign the card so they’ll think they were the ones who sent it?”

Rin scrunches his nose. “I am not spending my money on those two idiots.”

Nagi huffs. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we just told them they like each other?”

Bachira waves him off. “No. There’s no fun in that.” Then, a lightbulb turns on, and he’s clapping his hands with the excitement of a child waking up on Christmas day. “Ah! We make the both of them jealous.”

“No,” Kunigami shuts the suggestion down with a frown on his face. “that’ll create misunderstandings—”

“Awww,” Bachira whines with a pout, “you’re no fun!”

Across the field, you watch the exchange with furrowed eyebrows as Isagi orders takeout on his phone. He follows your gaze, snickering when Reo reaches over to smack Zantetsu’s head but misses and hits Rin in the face instead. Even from here, you hear everyone shouting at each other as Rin attempts to smack Reo but ends up landing a hit on Chigiri when Reo quickly ducks out of the way.

“What the hell are they doing?” you mutter as Bachira tackles Nagi with a giggle.

Isagi shrugs unhelpfully. “Don’t know.”

Someone knocks Zantetsu’s glasses of his face, which results in him gasping loudly. The arguments don’t cease despite the fact that they’re now all on the ground, attacking each other with punches and kicks only meant to bruise.

“You’re friends with a bunch of idiots, babe.”

Isagi, ever the dramatic boyfriend, looks at you as if you’ve said something so incredibly hurtful. “Excuse me, you’re friends with them, too.”

“Yeah,” you say, wincing when Bachira jumps onto Kunigami’s back and starts ruffling his hair, “Yeah, unfortunately, I am.”

attempt one: bachira meguru & kunigami rensuke.

When Bachira tells Kunigami he’s planning on tricking the two of you into going on a date and watching from the sidelines, Kunigami feels he owes it to both you and Isagi to tag along, seeing as the last time he let Bachira meddle with someone’s love life (i.e. his), it ended with a chipped tooth and a trip to the dentist’s office.

(Bachira insists it’s not his fault Kunigami punched his date. Kunigami insists it is because there was absolutely no reason for Bachira to set the date up at a Five Nights at Freddy’s themed party).

This is how Kunigami finds himself lurking behind a blue van as you and Isagi walk across the parking lot, talking animatedly as you make your way towards the entrance of the arcade. Every now and then, Isagi checks his phone with annoyance and you glance at your watch with a frown.

Kunigami phone buzzes in his pocket. He already knows what the notification is before he sees it.

groupchat: blue lock!!! 🥳⚽️❤️‍🔥

isagi 🤓 > where r u guys?

Beside him, Bachira’s fingers dash across his keyboard.

bachira 🐝 > sorry! D: I won’t be able to make it 😣😓 > looks like it’s just you and y/n~~~ 😉😉😉

isagi 🤓 > ??? > what about the rest of the team

bachira 🐝 > they’re all sick unfortunately !! ):

At this point, you and Isagi have already made it to the doors. Kunigami is too far away to read Isagi’s expression, but he looks at you for a long moment, says something that makes you laugh, before he turns back to his phone.

isagi 🤓 > really?? ALL of you are sick???

bachira 🐝 > yep!

Bachira kicks Kunigami’s shin and gestures towards his phone. The taller boy sighs and begrudgingly sends a message to the groupchat.

kunigami 😵‍💫 > yeah > cough cough

Bachira hums approvingly before walking around the car and hastily making his way to the entrance. Kunigami is quick to follow, lowering his head and bending his knees in hopes to not attract any attention with his height.

Once they step inside, Kunigami is forced to lift his chin up as he searches the crowd for any sign of his friends.

“There they are!” Bachira declares excitedly, pointing to a large claw machine before dragging Kunigami to hide behind the pinball machine.

Isagi has one hand on the joystick and the other hovering over a red button, his tongue sticking out in concentration. He leans closer to the glass as the claw hovers over a blue plushie, and just as he pushes the button, you shove his other arm, causing the claw to move forward and come down at the same time. The claw, predictably, grabs onto nothing, causing Isagi to turn to you with a pout on his lips.

“Hey!” he whines, softening when your head meets his chest as your shoulders shake with laughter.

“I’m sorry,” you say in between giggles. When you look up at him, he tries his best to look unimpressed, but he can’t bite back the smile that blooms across his face. “I’m sorry, Yoichi, I really am, but you have to admit it was pretty funny.”

“And to think I was going to win that for you!”

You glance at him, unconvinced, and then to the Snorlax plushie staring back at the both of you. “Yeah, right. You were gonna keep that for yourself.”

It’s silent for two heartbeats before Isagi sighs. “Yeah, I was gonna keep it for myself.”

“You’re a terrible boyf—”

“Um, excuse me?”

Kunigami and Bachira jump in surprise, turning to face an exhausted employee. She has her arms crossed over her chest as she suspiciously looks between the pair of football players hiding behind an arcade game. Kunigami’s eyes widen in realization. He doesn’t exactly know what conclusion this woman has come to, but he knows that two men — with baseball caps on their heads, sunglasses on the bridge of their noses, and masks on their faces — lurking in the shadows of an arcade is bound raise a few eyebrows.

“Oh, hello!” Bachira greets with too much chirpiness for Kunigami’s liking, but he can tell his friend is nervous when Bachira glances at you and Isagi, who still — thankfully — haven’t looked over to the commotion by the pinball machines. “Sorry, we were just… waiting for our turn.”

The woman blinks. “You’ve been standing here doing nothing for five minutes. Nobody’s touched the pinball machine because they thought you guys were going to play.”

Kunigami scratches the back of his neck. “Well…”

He doesn’t continue.

The woman looks at them incredulously. “Well?”

Kunigami looks at Bachira, panicked, silently begging for help. Bachira blinks back up at him and shrugs.

Ever since he met Bachira Meguru, Kunigami swears years have been continuously removed from his lifespan.

“We can’t allow you guys to stay if you’re not going to play any games. It’s company policy.”

“Oh! Then we’ll just play! Um…” Kunigami trails off as he begins patting his pockets, eyebrows knitting together when he feels wrappers, his ID, house keys — everything but his wallet. He looks at Bachira. “I don’t have any money.”

“Well, don’t look at me! I don’t have any, either!”

Across from them, the woman sighs.

Kunigami’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets. “What do you mean? You paid our taxi driver!”

Bachira nods. “Yes, but that was the last of my change.”

Kunigami’s eye twitches.

Over at the claw machine, you and Isagi have diverted your attention towards your friends. Your suspicion is written all over your face and Isagi, with a grin bright enough to rival the sun, has pulled out his phone to record.

“Is that…?”

Isagi snickers. “Yup.”

“I thought you said they were sick.”

“That’s what they told me,” Isagi explains, holding in his laughter as the employee politely asks Kunigami and Bachira to leave the vicinity. “But I think they’re just spying on us.”

Curiously, you ask, “Why would they do that?”

Isagi doesn’t respond. Instead, he ends the video and pulls up Blue Lock’s groupchat, which includes him and all his teammates. He scrolls up to a text from two nights ago.

bachira 🐝 > okay operation set isagi and y/n up is a GO!!!! :D 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 > does everyone remember their positions?!! 🫡

rin 😐 > Please shut the fuck up

attempt two: zantetsu tsurugi.

Zantetsu is stressed.

He’s been watching Isagi like a hawk ever since practice started, sticking to him like glue by never leaving his side. He follows Isagi when it’s time for drills, chats with him during break, and joins him to his trip to the water fountain. And yet, despite how much they’ve talked today, Isagi still has yet to mention the flowers.

Zantetsu’s learned the hard way that flowers are expensive, but he still sent two bouquets last night — one to your apartment and one to Isagi’s; he’d even gotten Bachira to sign the cards so it would look like you got the flowers for each other.

(When Reo said the forgery was awful, Zantetsu dismissed him with a roll of his eyes).

But Isagi hasn’t said a word about it. And, during the fifteen minutes you popped by, you didn’t say anything about it, either.

Zantetsu sits on the bench, close to pulling his hair out. On one side of him is Nagi, nonchalant as his thumbs dash across his phone screen; on the other side is Reo, who watches you and Isagi laugh with a look of disgust plastered across his face.

“I don’t get it,” Zantetsu groans, putting his head in his hands. “I checked with the florist six times.”

Reo snorts. “Are you sure you got their addresses right?”

“Yes! Look!” Zantetsu opens up his phone and scrolls through the digital receipt in his email. Reo looks over his shoulder and confirms the addresses with a grunt.

Nagi barely glances at his teammate’s screen before muttering, “Stupid Zantetsu.”

“What! but I did everything right!”

“Well, there’s no one else to blame,” Nagi drawls. “You’re the only one who bought the flowers.”

Zantetsu slips off the bench and lies down on the grass, muttering incoherent complaints while Nagi pays him no mind and Reo starts poking his side with the toe of his shoe.

(What Zantetsu doesn’t know, however, is that you did receive the flowers. Isagi had been at your apartment when you got the delivery and texted you that someone on the team had sent you daisies along with a card that badly resembled his signature).

(There is also the fact that Isagi spends more time at your apartment than he does at his. Five months after Zantetsu ordered the flowers, you and Isagi go to his home to pack up his things so he can officially move in with you, only to find a bouquet of dead roses on his doorstep).

attempt three: chigiri hyoma, mikage reo, & nagi seishiro.

Reo kind of likes the power that comes with playing God.

Ever since Kunigami and Bachira got kicked out of the arcade, Reo’s been plotting. He’s unlike his usual self — instead of bursting with energy, Reo comes to practice silent. He’s scrutinizing Isagi so much that the boy has started avoiding him; he’s been asking you random questions whenever you visit; under the guise of caring for his teammates, Reo has made a shared Google calendar and forced everyone to add their schedules to it (really, he’s just trying to see when Isagi is free so he can set this plan in motion).

And what Reo wants, Reo gets, and Chigiri shouldn’t have been surprised when Reo comes up to him with a 30-slide PowerPoint.

“Hear me out,” he’d said when Chigiri opened the door to his apartment. “I’m a fucking genius.”

Chigiri had no time to reply before Reo was letting himself in.

The party — a trap disguised in diamonds and alcohol, is what Reo refers to this as — is in full swing when Chigiri arrives, toeing off his shoes as he nods to familiar faces whose names he can’t quite remember and brushing off anyone who offers him a drink. He finds Nagi in the corner leaning against the wall, surprisingly off his phone, and staring at two people in the living room.

You and Isagi have taken the couch hostage. While there may be room for someone to sit, Chigiri can see why people don’t. Even from a few feet away, he feels as if he’s intruding when he watches Isagi stare up at you with his head in your lap and your fingers combing through his hair.

There is no way friends are this affectionate with each other.

Chigiri doesn’t have time to dwell before Bachira, who may as well be bouncing off the walls, swoops in to pull Isagi off your lap. He slowly rises, engulfed with sharp irritation that’s wiped away as soon as you place a hand on your shoulder and murmur a temporary farewell.

“They’re stupid,” Nagi mutters. Chigiri silently agrees.

It doesn’t take long for Reo to find them, hyper and euphoric, and Chigiri wonders if he’s either drunk off alcohol or adrenaline. He places a hand on both Chigiri and Nagi’s shoulders before declaring in true dramatic Mikage Reo fashion, “It’s game time.”

Nagi cringes. “But I’m too tired.”

“I gave you the easiest assignment!” Reo exclaims incredulously.

“Luring Isagi into your room sounds far from easy.”

“Would you rather be chasing after Y/N?”

Nagi frowns, glancing over at you. You’re strategically slipping through the crowd to avoid people you don’t want to speak to, politely giving them smiles before you disappear from sight. It’s almost as if the shadows are swallowing you whole and teleporting you to another area in the penthouse.

Nagi shakes his head and halfheartedly wishes Chigiri good luck before beginning his search for Isagi.

Chigiri sighs as Reo slaps him on the shoulder and pushes him out from his safe place against the wall, similar to that of a mother letting her child play in the playground. A rather chaotic, migraine-inducing playground.

With an annoyed huff, he begins walking the perimeters of the penthouse, scanning the crowd in hopes of finding you in your desperate attempts to vanish. He knows you find these rambunctious gatherings more bearable when you’re with Isagi; you may be friends with the entire team (one time he overheard Zantetsu saying you were one of his emergency contacts), but there is nothing that compares to your closeness with Isagi. People have tried and failed to puncture the bubble the two of you live in.

It’s difficult for one to familiarize themselves with the mystery that is your and Isagi’s relationship, something that significantly blurs the line between friends and lovers.

Chigiri may not be as observant as his other teammates, but he can spot love when he sees it. Especially if it is so ridiculously obvious that it might as well be as blinding as the sun.

He finds you in mere minutes — clearly not fast enough for Reo, who he knows is the culprit behind the continuous buzzing coming from his device. You’re in the kitchen, sitting atop a counter, nursing a glass of apple juice. When you see Chigiri in the doorway, you smile, though the tension in your body remains.

“Hi,” you greet. He makes his way towards you, swift but nonchalant. “Having fun?”

“A little. You?” At your grimace, he laughs. “You didn’t seem to be this miserable when I saw you with Isagi earlier.”

It’s bait, you know it’s bait. He expects you to brush it off with stammered words and wandering eyes but instead you shrug, hiding your smile behind the cup. If Chigiri is surprised at your silent admission, he doesn’t show it.

“Yeah, but he’s not here right now, so…”

Chigiri hums teasingly. “You two looked cozy on the couch.”

You snort, downing the rest of your juice before placing the cup in the sink beside you. “He was just telling me about how Zantetsu was trailing after him like a lost puppy yesterday at practice.”

Comparing Zantetsu’s behaviour to that of a puppy is pushing it, but Chigiri decides now isn’t the time to protest. He wonders if you’re aware about the flower mishap — or if you even received the flowers in the first place.

“Did you get flowers a few days ago?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah. It said they were from Yoichi.” Chigiri’s eyes widen, urging you to continue. Maybe, just maybe, he won’t have to resort to locking you in a room to deal with your feelings. “But the penmanship was so atrociously bad I assumed the bouquet was from Bachira.”

All hope disappears. It shows in the way Chigiri’s shoulders droop and the way he rubs his temples, missing your small, amused smirk.

“Okay,” Chigiri clasps his hands together with the type of determination you only see on the football field. “You’re hopeless.”

You scoff. “Excuse me?”

“I know where Isagi is,” Chigiri states instead of offering an explanation.

Getting you to follow him is easy enough. With childlike excitement, you jump off the counter and trail behind him with a smile on your face. There seems to be more energy and pep in your steps, and your smile is so wide Chigiri is surprised you’re able to keep it on your face without your cheeks hurting.

And this doesn’t even compare to how Isagi acts at the sole mention of you. Chigiri wonders if setting the two of you up is the best for his sanity; he’s not quite sure he’ll be able to handle such a chipper, lovesick Isagi everyday during practice.

But then he glances at his notifications, snorting at Nagi’s anguished messages to hurry up, because hearing Isagi talk about you is much worse than watching three cheesy Hallmark romcoms back to back. Perhaps, Chigiri thinks, it would be cruel to not push the two of you together. He can worry about the suffering he’ll have to endure in the future.

Once he’s led you to the end of the hallway where Reo and Nagi loiter just outside the guest room, you falter in your steps. The next few seconds are a flurry of confusion and snappy remarks, and the next thing you know, you’re shoved into a room and the door behind you is locked with an obnoxious click.

Isagi shoots up from where he was previously lying on the bed. “Thank God you’re here. I wasn’t sure if they were just going to leave me in here by myself.”

You sigh, making your way towards the bed. Isagi shuffles to make space for you. His hands find their home around your waist before he uses them to pull you against him.

You grumble as he nestles his face into the crook of your neck. “You were right.”

You feel him smirk against your skin. “Right about what?” he asks with faux perplexity.

“You know what.”

“Hm, I really don’t.”

You huff, flicking the back of his hand, and he responds with a laugh. “They’re trying to set us up.”

“Yeah, that much was obvious, babe.”

“I thought they already knew,” you say, meeting his gaze when he lifts his head up to meet yours.

“I thought we agreed to keep this a secret.”

“No, I know,” you say, but then you gesture towards the door, and add, with bewildered mirth, “but it’s not like we’re being very secretive. I thought they would have figured it out by now.”

Isagi guffaws and despite just how loud it is, you lean into his touch, yearning to hear it again. “Didn’t you say they were idiots?”

“I didn’t think they were this oblivious.”

“And to think that’s what they’re saying about us,” Isagi smiles but it turns serious as he places his chin on your shoulder. “But do you want to tell them?”

You want to say yes. When you first agreed to this secret relationship — to avoid pressing questions and people invading your privacy — sneaking around quickly became tiresome. And it still is, though you admit it’s nicer to interact with your boyfriend in the confines of your apartment and the stadium whenever you visit, away from any prying eyes that could twist every interaction. You feel the most comfortable with him there, away from the public eye, and you know he feels the same way.

However, it might be nice for your close friends to know.

But then you remember how, just last night, you and Isagi were huddled around his phone, laughing at the ridiculous plans his teammates have made in order to get you two alone together. It seems that they’ve forgotten that your boyfriend’s in the chat too, and their naivety has become newfound entertainment.

You’re curious to find out what else they have up their sleeves. When you look at Isagi, you know he shares the same sentiment.

He grins. “That’s settled, then. What do you think they’re going to do next?”

“Bachira seems very adamant about the jealousy plan.”

Isagi snorts. “I kind of want to see where he goes with that.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why?”

He pecks your nose. “Because you’re cute when you’re jealous. And it boosts my ego.” you scoff, but before you can even think about replying, Isagi says, “Hey, do you want to leave and make out in Reo’s room?”

“We’re locked in here,” you deadpan.

Isagi lets go of you and walks towards the door. He points at the doorknob with a wide grin on his face.

The room locks from both the inside and the out.

You let out a disappointed sigh.

Sometimes you worry that the next time you see Reo, he’s going to be swindled out of a million dollars.

attempt four: bachira meguru (again) ft. itoshi rin.

This really could be the best idea Bachira’s ever had — the thing is, though, nobody has the slightest ounce of faith in him. Which, if he’s being honest, is kind of offensive.

(So what if he and Kunigami got kicked out of the arcade a few days ago? Sometimes genius plans fail! It doesn’t mean Bachira’s lost his touch).

The team has found themselves at a gala, surrounded by athletes and sponsors alike in a large ballroom smelling of wealth and prestige. Caterers carrying trays of champagne flutes slip through the crowd with practiced ease, faces painted with polite smiles that do not waver despite the football team’s — read: Bachira and Zantetsu’s — overwhelming excitement.

Rin, who narrowly escaped a conversation with a bubbly volleyball player he barely remembers the name of, walks into a prison as worse as forced small-talk. With Bachira by his side, he scowls as the shorter boy starts unsubtly pointing towards you and Isagi, whispering amongst yourselves with reserved smiles and fond eyes.

“This is stupid,” Rin says monotonously when Bachira suggests that Rin should split you and Isagi apart.

“It’s not!” Bachira argues, growing annoyed at Rin’s apathy. “Tonight’s the best night to make one of ‘em jealous. Hey, what about I split them up and you make them jealous?”

Rin’s response is simple and curt, “No.”

Bachira sighs, though he can’t say he’s surprised.

The night goes on without many bumps in the road. Rin stays by Bachira once he learns that nobody’s willing to talk to him if he pretends he’s preoccupied in a conversation, no matter how one-sided it is. Some of his teammates join in for a bit before they drift away again; Reo stops by to encourage them to talk to sponsors (Rin scowls in response), Kunigami and Zantetsu tell Rin on separate occasions he looks like he stepped in shit, Chigiri halfheartedly wishes Bachira luck, and even Nagi came by for a few minutes to talk to them.

The only teammate Rin hasn’t spoken a word to is Isagi.

He really doesn’t care, but he thinks he’d rather have a conversation with him than have to painfully watch him pine over you. The sight of it bothers him so much he’s actually considering going along with Bachira’s plan, but before he can open his mouth and spout out words he’ll likely regret, somebody comes by and takes you away.

And you let him.

For a moment, Rin’s eyes widen.

“What the—” Bachira squeaks, jaw slack. “Who is that?”

Rin recognizes the man as one of the people he avoided having a conversation with. His hair is bright, matching the excitement in his grin and the radiance in his eyes, and Rin’s pretty sure he’s seen him on billboards and advertisements hanging on the large glass windows of retail stores.

There is familiarity in his touch, Rin realizes. But there is something between the two of you that doesn’t match the atmosphere between you and Isagi — there are joyful grins and clumsy movements, sure, but it all seems friendly.

He frowns, glances at Bachira, only to find him staring at Isagi, and Rin wonders if the champagne has messed with his imagination or if there is actual smoke is coming out of Isagi’s ears.

Well. At least Bachira didn’t even have to lift a finger.

Only a couple seconds pass before Isagi grumbles and stands from his seat, walking over to where Rin and Bachira watch you and the unknown man dance next to the other couples in the ballroom. When Isagi stands in front of them, he is the perfect picture of a man wronged, his usual boyish smile replaced with an annoyed frown.

“Hello, Yoichi!” Bachira greets, though his voice is strained, and his wandering eyes don’t fail to show his discomfort. “We haven’t seen you all night.”

Isagi grunts. “Sorry.”

Rin really shouldn’t find pleasure in this, but he thinks it’s a little funny. However, his face is blank when he states, “Y/N looks like they’re having fun.”

Rin expects Isagi to glare at him with the same intensity he has on the field, but Isagi only pouts. “Uh-huh.”

“Who’s the guy they’re dancing with?” asks Bachira.

“His name’s Hinata,” Isagi grumbles, taking a champagne flute from a passing caterer’s tray. He mumbles a thanks before continuing, “He’s a volleyball player, so they met through that when he first moved to Tokyo.”

“Ah,” Bachira nods. Then, rubbing salt into the wound, he adds, “So they’re, like, super close?”

“I guess?”

“Are they dating?”

Isagi’s expression sours. “Definitely not.”

“How unfortunate,” Rin muses. He doesn’t bother to veil the glint of mischief in his eye, but Isagi is too preoccupied swirling his glass in disgust to notice, “They’d look nice together.”

(Bachira is sure the world has been thrown off-balance. Did Itoshi Rin just play instigator? For the sake of his teammate’s love life? He feels like this moment needs to be documented).

Isagi hums but doesn’t offer anything else. His posture is a lot more rigid than usual and he burns holes into the back of your head with an infuriating amount of infatuated neediness. It is only when the song ends that he relaxes, smiling wide when you part ways with Hinata to make your way to him.

Like metal to a magnet, you attach yourself to Isagi’s side, eyebrows furrowing at Rin’s contemplation and Bachira’s determination.

Shuffling awkwardly on your feet, you flash the both of them a wary smile before asking, “Are you guys having fun?”

Bachira grins and your stomach sinks. You’re not sure if you’re going to like where this is going to go. “Not as fun as you, I bet!”

You share a look with Isagi that only the two of you can decipher. “What do you mean?”

“We saw you dancing with Hinata,” your friend explains animatedly, pointing towards the boy seated at a table with his own teammates. “He’s cute! Have you ever thought about dating him?”

Rin’s face contorts into one of displeasure. Bachira does not have one subtle bone in his body.

You blink. Isagi places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed. “No? He’s my friend.”

“Oh! So, like Isagi?”

Isagi’s hand drops from your shoulder. Beside him, you’re biting the inside of your cheek, but the amusement on your face is as clear as day. “Bachira,” Isagi warns, frazzled and panicked.

Bachira frowns, confused by Isagi’s uneasiness. “What?” he questions, tone light and mischievous. He draws all his focus onto you, and you suddenly feel as if you’ve been shoved into an interrogation room. “It’s just a question! Even Rin said you two would look nice together!”

“He’s a friend,” you repeat, and it feels more like a reassurance for the boy next to you than anything else. “Speaking of which, Hinata wanted to talk to you, Yoichi, about the game last week. He said he wanted to congratulate you.”

Isagi brightens at the reminder of his goal that earned them a victory. “Oh—!”

“Wait,” Bachira interjects, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “You know him? Like, personally?”

“Yeah, we’re friends—”

Bachira gapes. “You have friends?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I meant other than us!” Bachira adds quickly. His mouth is hanging open, and the loudness of his shock has drawn the attention of the other guests, causing you to shrink into yourself. Your hand finds Isagi’s before you tug him away, throwing apologetic glances at any questioning looks you find yourself on the receiving end of.

“You idiot,” Rin hisses, “people are staring.”

Before Bachira can say anything more about his utter shock at Isagi having a social life outside of football, someone taps Rin on the shoulder. It’s an older man, presumably someone who wants to sponsor him, and at the sight, Rin glowers. When he looks over his shoulder in hopes of throwing Bachira under the bus, he sees that the spot beside him is empty.

A few feet away, a caterer yelps when Bachira accidentally bumps into them.

Rin grits his teeth.

(On your way to Hinata’s table, you snort, “And here I thought you liked Bachira’s jealousy plan.”

Isagi rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Yoichi,” you coo, which only causes his pout to grow, “I think you look cute when you’re jealous.”

“I hate you.”

You laugh and he tugs you closer to his side. “No,” you say softly, “you love me.”)

attempt five: itoshi rin.

Whoever thinks that Rin is doing this because he cares is way off base.

If anything, he’s doing this for the sake of his own wellbeing. He was stupid to leave this situation in the hands of his teammates, who have yet to make any progress on doing something about Isagi’s ridiculous pining.

This is how Rin finds himself standing in front of you, awkward and out of place, as you slowly place your duffel bag on the bench. Behind you, your teammates are warming up for the upcoming game, throwing the occasional perplexed glance at Rin’s intimidating figure, before deeming it better to brush him off and ask you about him later.

“Rin, hi,” you say apprehensively. “The game isn’t until five.”

“I know.”

“And it’s three.”

“I know.”

You wrinkle your nose at his tone but choose to ignore it so you can put your kneepads on and tie your shoelaces. In the corner of your eye, Rin continues to just stand; he’s so rigid that you’re convinced that a light shove is all you need for him to tip over and shatter on the floor like glass.

When the comfortable silence begins to grow awkward, Rin clears his throat, “I need to talk to you.”

“You could’ve just called me.”

“You wouldn’t have answered,” he deadpans, briefly glancing towards your phone, silenced, and peeking out the side of your bag, “and it’s important.”

“More important than preparing for a game?”

You gesture around you. Volleyballs soar through the air once they make contact with skin, forearms are tinged red, and shoes squeak against the vulcanized rubber floors. When Rin looks at you, you’re itching to leave, eager to part from him and this conversation in order to get your hands on a ball.

Rin hesitates. “Well… no?”

With a sigh and roll of your eyes, you point to the door. “Okay, well, tell me about it later. I’ll see you—”

“It’s about Isagi.”

You freeze.

“What about him?” you ask. Your previous chagrin has quickly been replaced by worry. A mien that’s a mixture of love and panic is painted across your face as you hastily grab your phone (Rin notices your lockscreen is a candid photo of Isagi playing with a cat on the screen) and open your messages.

“He likes you.”

A quiet moment passes.

Then, you croak, “I’m sorry?”

“He likes you,” Rin repeats uncomfortably. “He has feelings for you.”

You stare. Rin prepares himself for the flurry of feelings he’s sure he will be hit with in a matter of seconds. An assortment of disbelief and hope and infatuation that will come once you’ve been snapped out of your still state, face blank as the cogs in your mind begin to turn.

He prepares himself for your emotions.

Instead, he’s met with a harsh shove on his shoulder and the same annoyance that was on your face a few minutes ago. “That’s the emergency?” you exclaim incredulously. “I— This is unbelievable. This really couldn’t wait until later?”

Rin can barely contain his shock. This is the last reaction he was expecting. He’s seen only a handful of romance films, but he knows that they always involve a timid denial of feelings. When he came here, on his day off, with the intention of finally putting an end to everyone’s misery, he expected you to falter and soften before dialling Isagi’s number and confessing.

He did not prepare for your disbelief — not at his words, but more so at him.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes. Thank you for informing me. Now, can you go?”

Rin cannot believe his ears. “Do you understand what I just said?”

“Yes, I—”

“I’m pretty sure he—”

“I get it,” you interject, opting to start pushing him towards the exit. “And I already thanked you for telling me, it really is appreciated. I’ll see you at the game, yeah? Bye.”

With that, you spin on your heel and stomp over to the court, leaving Rin to stand in the door, dumbfounded.

Well, that is the first and the last time he’ll ever do something nice for you or Isagi Yoichi.

Isagi isn’t quite sure what he’s done wrong.

When his teammates take their seats one by one, he immediately notices the defeat strewn across their faces. Alarmed, he asks if they’re alright, but all he receives in response is Chigiri’s fatigued sigh and a sharp glare from Rin.

His eyes find yours once you step onto the court, and with a shrug of your shoulders and a reassuring smile, Isagi sweeps his worry under the rug. He knows you’ll end up telling him what you know later anyway, whether it be in the car or under the duvet, his thumbs rubbing circles on your wrist as you’re both lulled into slumber.

But right now, Isagi redirects all his energy into focussing on the game.

He ignores the chatter beside him, rapid bickering that doesn’t evolve into a full-out argument, and watches as you strike a ball to the floor with impressive ferocity. Isagi is the first out of his seat to shout for joy, followed by the rest of the delighted crowd. The smile of his face is so blinding it might as well light up the entire gymnasium.

After every point you score, he’s on his feet. Pride swells in his chest as your team inches closer and closer to victory. His cheeks hurt from how much he’s smiling, especially since it grows every time you make eye contact with him on the stands, beaming. After each set, Isagi makes a mental list of different things he could do to have you look at him that again.

It is only during the last set when Isagi’s smile drops. The intensity on his face is not dissimilar to the one he dons during a game, and his teammates bristle at the sight of it, unfamiliar to seeing it off the field. They can’t blame his sudden seriousness, though, because while your team is at match point, the opponents aren’t too far behind.

The whistle blows. A player serves the volleyball into the air.

Everything happens in slow motion. Isagi wonders if this is what it feels like to watch his games from the sidelines, with every breath feeling like it may thwart a play and every movement causing anxiety to crawl up his throat like bile.

When your hand touches the ball, spiking it for what Isagi swears is the nth time of the day, time no longer stands still. The crowd roars as you’re crushed into a hug by your teammates, all wearing matching grins of triumph.

The next few moments are the consequence of a split second decision.

Isagi didn’t know he was going to do this when he woke up this morning, the spot beside him cold and a text on his phone reminding him to eat breakfast. He spends the entire day doing the laundry, cleaning the bathroom, and moping in your absence, too busy to even consider going through with an act that could be a PR disaster.

But then you look at him, and you’re shining, and Isagi decides to give in.

He’s out of his chair within seconds, waving off the questioning remarks coming from his friends as he speeds to the court.

(He’s more than grateful that security knows who he is by now, because if he were any other guy, he would’ve been detained the moment his feet touched the floor).

You seem to understand all his intentions by the time he’s within earshot. That’s the one thing about you that Isagi could only imagine wrapping his head around. All it takes is one glance, one second, for you to know what he desires. It almost makes his heart burst, at the realization that somebody loves him so much that they know every inch of him.

“I’m sweaty,” you say once you’ve escaped your teammates’ grasp.

Isagi raises an eyebrow, because when has that ever stopped him? “I don’t care.”

Your face is in his hands within seconds, cradled in delicate fingers that contrast the way his lips move with enough passion to light the world on fire. Curling your fingers around his belt loops, you pull him closer before resting your hands on the sides of his neck with your thumb tracing his jawline.

Being with Isagi under the spotlight like this is exhilarating.

The happiness, however, is short lived.

“What the hell!” Bachira shrieks, and Isagi pulls away — not too far, though — and rests his head against your forehead, sighing. “Does this mean my plan worked?”

Rin growls. “There is no way in hell you’re taking credit for this.”

“Actually,” Reo chimes in, “I’m pretty sure Chigiri, Nagi, and I are the reason for all of this.”

Zantetsu scoffs, immediately pushing past Reo to get closer to you and Isagi. “No, this means you guys got the flowers—”

Isagi lifts his head up, exasperated. “We’ve been dating for five months.”

He had been hoping that statement alone would be enough to get them to shut up.

He is dreadfully wrong.

“What?” Chigiri exclaims. “So, everything we did was for nothing?”

“Wait,” Kunigami interjects, eyebrows furrowed. “So that means you guys have been giggly and insufferable all these months because you’ve been dating?”

You muse. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“And that’s not going to change?”

Isagi throws his arm over your shoulder. “Oh, definitely not.”

Silence.

Then, Bachira tugs Rin’s sleeve and gestures for everybody to get into a huddle.

“Guys,” he says in what you assume is his attempt at a whisper, but you’re close enough to hear, even with the surprised clamor from the audience. “We need to break them up.”

Isagi squawks in protest, letting go of you to force himself into the huddle.

You watch the scene with a fond smile. One of your teammates comes up beside you and murmurs in wonder, “Your boyfriend and his friends sure are something.”

“What, idiots? You can say idiots.”

Your teammate snorts. “Yeah. It’s a little endearing, though.”

You laugh, nodding in agreement, and when Isagi calls you over to help, you take his hand and let him drag you into the circle, shooting down all the suggestions they’ve jokingly made about you dumping him.

You’ve come to the realization that you fit. Right here, next to Isagi, there will always be a place for you. Perhaps, then, that makes you an idiot by association.

(You don’t think you’d have it any other way).

© fushisagi, 2023. do not translate or plagiarize my work.

#isagi #isagi yoichi #bllk #blue lock #isagi x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi fluff #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #fic: love and all its cons

[auras-moonstone]

can i ask for shy!camp counselor ethan? like he’s great with kids but he’s very reserved around the rest of the crew. and reader is kind of extroverted. basically simp!!!! ethan

want to know you better — ethan landry

word count: 1,183

pairing: camp counselor!ethan landry x camp counselor!fem!reader

summary: after y/n defended ethan to their crew, she finally makes a conversation with him.

author’s note: this one is a bit short bc i’ve been super busy with college😫 on the bright side, part two of “august” is almost finished, so that’ll be my next post! 🫶🏻

Y/N COULDN’T RECALL ONE MOMENT IN WHICH ETHAN HAD WILLINGLY TALKED TO HER, OR ANYONE ELSE ON THE CREW FOR THE MATTER. She was very curious about him, the kids loved him and he seemed so sweet, but he always stayed silent during meetings and when the staff gathered around to eat.

“He doesn’t make conversation with us but he’s perfectly happy around kids. That’s a red flag” Vince, a staff member said while looking at Ethan, who was making the kids play by the lake.

“I wouldn’t say red flag, it’s straight up creepy” Joss replied with a laugh.

“Stop it” Y/N glared at them. “He’s not creepy, he’s just shy. Besides, I don’t blame him. You guys can be real mean sometimes.”

“Aw, does Y/N have a little crush?” Diana teased her.

“Really, Y/N? On Ethan? He’s not your type at all” Nate said.

“And how the fuck do you know if he’s my type or not?” Nate raised his hands in surrender “Whatever, I don’t have a crush on him, I’m just not a dick like you guys.”

“Come on, Y/N/N. You have to admit he’s weird” Diana scrunched her nose.

“He’s not. He doesn’t talk, so what? Have you tried to make a conversation with him?” she asked them, and they stayed silent. “Exactly my point. We haven’t been the most welcoming people.”

“I just get a weird vibe from him” Vince said, shrugging.

“Yeah, he’s giving psychopath” Nate agreed, making the rest of them laugh.

Y/N rolled her eyes “And you’re giving world’s biggest assholes” she stood up and made her way towards Ethan and the kids, ignoring how they called her name.

When the kids caught sight of her, they started jumping in excitement. “Y/N! Please help us, Ethan is being boring!”

Y/N gasped dramatically “Oh, how dare he! What do you need?”

“We want to play with the water guns” one of the kids said.

The older girl crossed her arms in front of her chest “How do you know about the water guns? They were supposed to be a secret until tomorrow. Have you been spying on our meetings?”

“No! Ethan let it slip” they replied, making the camp counselor glare at them, and muttered ‘Traitors’.

Y/N laughed and Ethan swooned. She was just so pretty, and her laugh was angelic “Wow, you snitched on him so fast, you don’t deserve Ethan’s kindness.”

“Boo, we thought you would be on our side, Y/N/N!”

“Fine, I don’t want to lose my spot as your favorite counselor, so let’s bring the water guns” she said, making the kids scream in excitement.

“We are not supposed to” Ethan said in a low tone.

Y/N stared at him, the sound of his voice surprised her. It was deep and calm, and nice to hear “Don’t worry, we can change the day of the activity. It’ll be fun. Besides, you can get your revenge on them for handing you in.” she smiled playfully.

Ethan’s smile was unlike anything Y/N had ever seen. His pearly white teeth were hypnotic and he had the most beautiful boyish laugh Y/N had ever heard. Now she really wished she’d talked to him sooner, she would have had that sight for longer.

The two counselors walked towards the supply closet to grab the water guns, fully aware of the rest of the crew’s eyes on them. She sent a dirty glare on their way.

“I’m sorry, Ethan.” Y/N said. Ethan looked at her expecting her to go on “For not talking to you earlier this summer. I know you’re too shy to make conversation, so I should’ve been the one to start it.”

Ethan shook his head “It’s okay.”

“It’s not” she quickly replied. “Even if we’re here for the job, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have fun. And you don’t deserve to spend your summer alone.”

“Thank you” Ethan smiled softly, his cheeks turning red. “I’m not sure the rest of the crew likes you talking to me.”

“I don’t care what those idiots have to say about me.” Y/N shrugged.

“Thank you for defending me earlier, by the way” he finally said. Y/N widened her eyes. “Yes, I heard. They aren’t exactly low talkers.”

“I’m sorry you had to hear that. It was awful, what they were saying.”

“A wise woman once said, I don’t care what those idiots have to say about me” Ethan said, in a weird period-drama kind of voice.

Y/N bursted out laughing and Ethan’s heart started racing “Those are some wise words indeed.”

“Can we play now or are you going to keep flirting?” the annoyed voice of a little girl said.

The two blushing messes holding the water guns shifted uncomfortably. They didn’t notice until the moment it was addressed, but they were flirting. And it felt good.

“Okay” Y/N said once everyone had their guns. “Let’s divide into groups.”

The kids exchanged smiles, and the counselors started to worry. Ethan looked at Y/N “They had schemed against us.”

“Kids…?”

“Attack!”

Before they knew it, the two authority figures were completely drenched. Y/N quickly grabbed Ethan’s hands and they started to run, the kids following their trails.

“Stop it, you monsters! You betrayed me!” Y/N yelled as she ran.

“You switched to Ethan’s side! Now you pay the consequences” they yelled back.

“Maybe… maybe we should stop” Ethan tried to catch his breath. “They’ll run out of water eventually. And I can’t breathe anymore.”

“Okay” Y/N agreed. “We surrender.”

The kids circled them once again, and they splashed them with water until their guns emptied. “Little devils” Ethan muttered as they fled the scene.

“That was fun, though” Y/N laughed.

The boy nodded “Your hair is sticking on your cheeks” Ethan laughed, putting her hair strands behind her ear. His deep brown eyes met hers and Ethan’s breath hitched. “You…” he shook his head and blushed “Never mind.”

“That’s the worst thing you can say to an over thinker. Now you have to spill it or I won’t be able to sleep until I know what you were going to say” Y/N told him, trying to ignore that she could still feel his touch on her skin.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” he sighed.

“Oh, shit. Do I have something in my face, in my teeth? Fuck, just te-” she asked embarrassed.

“I wanted to say you are beautiful.” he cut her off, not being able to meet her eyes. He glanced at his hands nervously.

Y/N took the chance to study his face. His puppy eyes were her favorite thing about him, she decided. But he also had beautiful long eyelashes, an adorable nose, and rosy cheeks to die for. His skin looked soft, and she couldn’t help but touch it. Y/N’s fingers grazed his jaw, making him look at her.

“And you’re gorgeous” Y/N said softly. “And I love how the kids seem to love you. You’re funny, and sweet and I want to know you better, if you want to.”

“I would really like that.” he nodded, smiling from ear to ear.

#ethan landry #ethanlandry #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry fic #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x reader #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion oneshot #jack champion imagine #jack champion fluff #jack champion fanfic

[ngayawneluoer]

the thrill of the chase

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ sully siblings x metkayinan reader

You visit the home of your Omatikayan friends, and Neteyam, Lo’ak, Kiri and Tuk encourage you to get into a bit of trouble and do something you’ve never done before: bond with an ikran.

word count: 2045

a/n: as always nobody fact check this bc i really should have done more research BUT ALAS enjoy

When your parents finally agreed to let you visit the Omatikayan lands, you figured your stay would include some introductions, sightseeing, and maybe some casual shenanigans. The Omatikayan village was rich with culture, and you revelled in the people's hospitality, but it wasn't long until your friends pulled you away from the adults and dragged you into trouble. Silly of you to think it would include something other than scaling mountains.

"This is… harder than it seems," You groaned, slightly trembling as you scaled the jagged rocks of the Hallelujah mountains. It was somewhat embarrassing for you, as even Tuk was racing ahead of you, but you kept telling yourself that you were just in a new environment and that it was expected of you to make mistakes.

"Not so easy when you're the fish out of water, is it?" Lo'ak teased, golden eyes peering down at you from the ledge where he, Tuk and Kiri had stopped to wait for you. Neteyam was right beside you, ready to assist if you struggled too much.

"Steady. Don't force yourself," Neteyam encouraged, an amused smile on his face.

You huffed, trying to hide how you strained with every step, "I'm not a baby, you know. I can climb a cliff without- shit!" Your right hand slipped from the jagged cliffside, and you cut your sentence off with a shriek. Thank Eywa for Neteyam, who had caught your waist to keep you stable and lifted you to hold the branch above you.

"Easy…" Neteyam reassured, hand still on your back as you regained your grip.

"What was that about climbing a cliff?" Lo'ak taunted playfully, which earned him a slap on the back of the head from Kiri.

Just what you deserve for getting cocky, you supposed.

Tuk peeked down, her sweet eyes filled with concern for you, "(Y/N), are you okay?"

Your first instinct was to say no; no, you were not okay because you were dangling from a floating boulder and if you fell, there was virtually zero chance of survival. And yet somehow, you couldn't say this was the most threatening situation you've been in. You survived a war. You could climb a rock.

"I'm fine, Tuk. Almost there."

Lo'ak turned to Kiri, "Should one of us tell them that we are definitely not almost there?"

"I heard that!" You retorted, scowling at the man above you.

"Less talking, more climbing!" Kiri laughed, "Even Tuk did it."

Neteyam rolled his eyes, "Ignore those skxawngs. You're doing great for your first time climbing this high."

"You can do it, (Y/N)!" Tuk cheered, her little hands clapping to cheer you on. You groaned in effort but continued pushing on.

When you finally reached the ledge, you threw yourself onto your back between Lo'ak and Kiri, "I regret ever teasing you for being useless in Metkayina," you whined, sincerity to your words, "I feel like a child here. Except even a child is more capable than me."

"Come on, you big baby. You haven't even gotten to the good part." Neteyam beamed with burgeoning excitement, clutching your arm to pull you back to your feet.

"I swear, swimming is so much more painless than all this. We have it easy back home." You spoke.

"I wouldn't say that. It took Lo'ak forever to get used to riding an ilu." Kiri reminisced as she strolled forward down the path, disappearing into the flora.

Lo'ak rolled his eyes, "Sure. Use me as the object of ridicule once again."

"Well it is true!" Tuk giggled with a mischievous grin on her face.

Lo'ak huffed, his hands coming to rest on his hips as he attempted to lecture Tuk, "Easy for you; you're a kid," he blurted, "Everyone carries you around; you never even had to learn to ride one!"

Neteyam scoffed, a look of disbelief on his face, "Lo'ak, she is seven."

Kiri stalked back with an exasperated look on her face, "Are you guys coming or not?"

"It is Lo'ak's fault, all he does is talk!" you quipped playfully with a smile, knowingly trying to get under his skin.

"I will push you off this mountain."

-

After a bit more bickering and a lot more climbing, you found yourselves close to the mountain peak, a large waterfall framing the path you assumed you were to take.

The five of you connected hands, with Tuk between Neteyam and Lo'ak, followed by you and Kiri. Cautiously, you all crept along the ledge behind the waterfall to reach a clearing with a myriad of ikrans. Finally, you all climbed onto some nearby rocks overlooking the creatures.

"They are beautiful," You whispered with a peaceful smile.

"They are," Lo'ak agreed, turning to you with a suspicious smirk, "Now you will tame one."

You spun to him in surprise, your brow furrowed in annoyance, "What?"

The four siblings tried to hold their laughs in but miserably failed.

"Do it, (Y/N)! We learned to ride ilus. Now you need to learn to ride an ikran." Kiri egged on, Tuk accompanying her with "Yes"s.

You looked to Neteyam for a semblance of help, but he merely shrugged as if to say you were on your own.

"No! What if I fall?" you sneered.

"I'll call my ikran, and we'll catch you," Neteyam quipped confidently.

"Where is your ikran exactly?" You challenged.

"Close by," Neteyam replied, "...probably."

"Neteyam!" you whined, slapping his arm.

Said boy snickered softly, a cheeky grin on his face, "I am only joking! I promise you will not die; I will catch you."

"Well what if they attack me?"

"They won't attack you," Lo'ak replied, "All at once."

You scowled at him suspiciously, "Your wording was awfully specific."

"I was just answering your question!" Lo'ak exclaimed, trying to mask a giggle as he threw his hands up defensively.

"(Y/N). You're not alone. We will help if we see you are about to die." Kiri chuckled.

You gave in with a sigh of irritation, "Okay. Fine," After a moment's reflection, you looked out at the sea of ikrans feeling somewhat determined, "So I just pick one?"

"Wellll… not really," Neteyam trailed off, a slightly guilty grimace on his face.

"Okay," you deadpanned, "How do I know which one to choose?"

"It will attack you," Lo'ak stated bluntly.

If looks could kill, Lo'ak would be dead.

"You forest people must have a death wish."

You knew you most definitely should not be doing this; your mother would probably lecture you until the end of time if she knew what you were doing. And yet there you were, making your way through the ikrans, about to tame one. You could faintly hear the four siblings cheering you on in the background, but you were primarily focused on not getting mauled to death by the enormous creatures. You were so out of your comfort zone when it came to ikrans. They were big, fast, vicious; how those morons managed to convince you to do this, you will never know.

You walked across the clearing, eyes darting cautiously at every sudden movement. To your dismay, every ikran you approached flew away, and as you counted up to 10 creatures flying away, you started to get discouraged.

Your shoulders slumped in bitter disappointment, and you turned back to the group watching you, "I don't think this is working."

"Keep going!" Kiri exclaimed amongst the acclamations of her siblings.

This was humiliating. 

"Please, they are all leaving!" You pouted slightly, pleading with Eywa that they'll let you off the hook and allow you to return.

Suddenly, Neteyam's eyes widened, his body lurching forward and his hands anxiously clasping the mossy branch in front of him, "Watch out!"

A hiss sounded behind you, and you released a shriek as you dove away from the sound and rolled to face the creature that had chosen you as its target. The admittedly gorgeous banshee stepped towards you, a menacing look in its eye as it screeched in your face, sharp teeth bared.

"Took your time, didn't you?" You taunted, standing to face the creature before hissing at it. The two of you circled each other before it dove forward, and you skillfully manoeuvred out of the way to avoid its razor-sharp fangs. Finally, you grabbed its head, wrapping both arms and legs around its neck to attempt to control it.

"Fight it!" Lo'ak screamed.

"Make the bond!" Kiri joined.

You grappled with the mighty reptile as it fought back viciously, but you somehow found the strength to overpower it and connect your queues. Immediately the ikran calmed, and you felt the bond you formed with the creature deep in your bones. A gleeful laugh escaped your throat as your ikran stood slowly with you on its back.

Neteyam breathed a sigh of relief, releasing the iron grip he had on the flora around him. Lo'ak only laughed, playfully punching his brother's shoulder, "I told you they could do it, Neteyam."

Kiri wasted no time and leapt over the rocks to meet you, her siblings in tow.

"You must fly now to seal the bond," she proclaimed.

"You've got this. It's like an ilu. Just no water," Lo'ak said cheekily.

You turned to Neteyam, who was now carrying Tuk on his back, "Trust yourself. We'll be right behind you."

You nodded, breathing deep and turning to face the cliff, staring at the sky ahead. And when you felt that both you and your banshee were ready, you commanded it to fly.

It jerked suddenly, and you released a loud shriek as it nosedived off the mountain. Your body lifted off its back until the only thing keeping you connected was your iron grip on its antennae (and your prayers). Just as you managed to pull back and get the ikran to glide straight, it flew directly into a waterfall, stunning you and making you lose focus. The poor animal tried its best to fly but panicked once again, fluttered directly into a cliffside, then up and down... and up and down again. It would have been an understatement to say you were doing terribly, and the harder you tried to gain control, the harder it was.

"(Y/N)!" You turned to the sound of your name being called to see Lo'ak to your left on his own ikran, "Steady! Stay calm, and your ikran will listen!"

Taking deep breaths, you tried your best to focus on the sound of Lo'ak speaking and calm yourself down. To your delight, eventually your ikran levelled out, soaring straight.

"Yes, (Y/N)! You're flying!" An adorable, excited voice cheered. You turned to your right to see Tuk hanging on Neteyam's back as he flew his ikran. Neteyam wore a huge, proud smile, and he whooped along with his little sister.

Behind you was Kiri on her ikran, one arm in the air as she bellowed excitedly. A proud smile took over your face, and you let out an enthusiastic trill, your friends joining you.

When it was apparent that you had your flying under control, Neteyam spoke up, "Follow me! I'll take us somewhere you will not believe."

-

"You did what?!" Neytiri hissed. The five of you stood in a row in front of her, gazes lowered and ears pointing back in shame.

"Their parents trust us to look after them for three days, and you take them to do one of the most dangerous things they could have done here?" Jake joined, primarily lecturing his two sons, who he knew were most likely the instigators.

Lo'ak huffed, "They're fine, though."

"Yes, I am fine-"

"They could have died!" Neytiri yelled, "And you took Tuk with you? What were you thinking?!"

You were silly to even try to get a word in. There would clearly not be any winning this argument, so you all hung your heads in shame and accepted the lecture.

"-and no more causing trouble. For the one day (Y/N) has left here. Can you do that?" Jake concluded.

You all answered with obedient "Yes sir"s before moping away in silence.

When you were far enough away from the two adults, you finally let out the giggle you had been holding back, and the others joined in.

"So worth it."

-

a/n: currently working on some requests :) thank you to everyone who has been giving attention to my posts and sending in requests, it makes me so happy! i’m seeing avatar 2 again tomorrow so hopefully it will strike some inspiration again <3

#neteyam x reader #lo'ak x reader #kiri x reader #avatar x reader #neteyam #lo'ak sully #kiri sully #my fics˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

[writingdumpster]

first impressions

pairing: Matt Murdock x reader (no pronouns used)

warnings: none I think

summary: i wrote this purely bc i know matt murdock is excellent at meeting people’s mothers. after impressing your parents matt gets to thinking about his future.

word count: 1.6k

“I’m nervous.” You sat next to Matt in the restaurant he had chosen for the evening. It was fancy. There was a pianist in one corner of the room and linen tablecloths. It was nicer than the hole-in-the-wall joints that you and Matt usually preferred. He wanted to impress your parents though, so he had made a reservation at a swanky restaurant in midtown Manhattan. 

Matt was in his court suit and you had donned the blue silk dress he bought for your anniversary. It was by far your favorite dress. Beyond being a treasured gift, it fit you perfectly and the fabric always felt soft against your skin. Karen had helped Matt pick it out, but she had told you that all she did was describe the dresses and that he had completely ignored her opinions. She had strongly recommended a yellow dress but he had refused her suggestions, insisting you would like the one he picked better. Never having seen the yellow one, you knew he was right. If he picked it, you loved it. You would have him choose between options you put out when you got dressed in the mornings by describing them to him and he always had you match his tie to the rest of his outfit. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Matt said and kissed your temple. 

“I only ever introduced Caleb to my parents,” you told him, not that you hadn’t said it before. Matt knew that Caleb was not someone you had pleasant memories of. He had heard the stories from you and he was the one who helped you get over many of the fears that Caleb had struck into you. Matt was remembering those stories while he heard in your heartbeat how nervous you were. 

“You know I’m not like Caleb,” Matt reminded you. 

“I know, Matt. I just…this is a big deal for me,” you said. 

“It’s a big deal for me too, sweetheart,” Matt told you. “It’s just an exciting big deal for me.” You inhaled deeply. Matt smiled. “You have nothing to worry about. Moms always like me, angel. It’ll be great,” he assured you. 

“All women like you,” you said. Matt laughed lightly. 

“Then that will include your mom, won’t it?” He asked rhetorically. He gave you a light peck as he tangled his fingers with yours beneath the table. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he cooed. You sighed. 

“You’re right. I know they’re going to love you. I just…” You hesitated. 

“Caleb was a mistake and you think it’s bad luck,” Matt said, always knowing what you were thinking. 

“Yeah,” you agreed. 

“This isn’t a mistake, sweetheart. I promise. It’s just the next step,” he told you. You nodded and Matt gave your hand a squeeze. You looked up at the doorway to the restaurant. 

“They’re here,” you said. You rose from the table and greeted your mom and dad with hugs. Matt was standing by your side with a charming smile across his face. 

“Hello, Mrs. y/l/n,” Matt greeted with a smile. Your mom held her arms out to Matt and pulled him into a hug. He returned it kindly.  

“Oh, please, call me y/m/n,” your mom said. “Y/N has told us so much about you. I think we can be on a first name basis,” your mom said. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as your mom told Matt how you spoke about him. Matt simply turned to you and smiled. He loved that you told your parents about him. He wished he could tell his dad all about you. Your father held out his hand for Matt to shake. Matt stayed still, not wanting to give up his powers. You took Matt’s hand and pulled it to where your father’s hand was waiting. 

“Oh, sorry about that,” your dad said in embarrassment as he shook Matt’s hand. Matt chuckled lightly. 

“That’s alright, sir. Took y/n months to stop answering me with nods,” Matt joked. 

“It was not months,” you said sharply. 

“You still do it sometimes,” Matt teased. You pursed your lips, biting back the comment about how you knew he could tell. The four of you sat down, Matt pulling out your mother’s chair for her before doing the same for you and taking his seat.

Matt was right about mothers loving him. He charmed your mom with his dry sense of humor and enchanting smile. He won your dad’s approval when he mentioned he owned his own law firm. Your father didn’t need to know that Nelson and Murdock was nearly always on the edge of bankruptcy. Your parents told Matt stories about you from your childhood, despite your protests that they were too embarrassing. Matt loved the stories. All he could do was smile at you. The night was perfect. Matt was perfect. Your father refused Matt’s attempt to pay for the meal before the four of you left. You said your goodbyes in front of the restaurant before getting into different cabs and going back home. Matt’s hand was resting innocently on your leg while the two of you sat in the back of the cab. 

“I told you it was going to be fine,” Matt teased you. You rolled your eyes. 

“Yes, you were right, Murdock,” you agreed. Matt chuckled. 

“Doesn’t happen that often. I have to brag when it does,” he said. The cab pulled up outside of your apartment and the two of you got out. You made your way up the stairs and walked through the sliding door. The glow of the billboard outside of your window was blue. A new advertiser had taken over a few weeks earlier and the red light that usually filled the room had been replaced with a blue light, making it seem like your apartment was bathed in moonlight. You were looking through the mail that you had collected on your way up. 

You realized you didn’t know where Matt went when music started playing. You smiled to yourself as you tossed away the junk mail. Suddenly you felt hands on your hips as Matt pulled you away from the counter. He spun you around and moved one of his hands to the small of your back. The other went to cup your hand in his. You giggled before moving to wrap your free arm around his shoulders, fingers tangling in the hairs at the nape of his neck as the two of you began swaying back and forth. Matt loosened his hold on your waist and moved to let you spin beneath his arm before pulling you back into his body and dipping you. 

When Matt pulled you back upright you leaned up on your toes to press a kiss to his lips. Matt smiled against your lips. You stared into his eyes when you leaned away. His eyes were so beautiful. You never cared that his eyes didn’t see you the way yours saw him. He saw you in so many other ways. 

“You really impressed them,” you said as you leaned closer to Matt, tucking your head against his neck.

“I told you moms like me,” Matt said. 

“My dad liked you too though,” you said. 

“Yeah,” Matt agreed. “We just can’t let him visit my office. He won’t be impressed anymore.” You chuckled. 

“I certainly hope he won’t ever need a lawyer,” you said. 

“If you hadn’t needed a lawyer we never would have met,” Matt reminded you. 

“Yes, and that worked out very well,” you agreed. “But when we tell our kids how we met I think we should make something up.” Matt beamed. 

“Our kids?” He asked. Your heart dropped for a moment and your face went blank. 

“I mean, umm…” You started stuttering. 

“We’ll have to get married first,” Matt interjected before you could start backpedaling. Your panic turned to excitement. You grinned. 

“You obviously have my parents' approval now,” you said. Matt smiled. 

“And you’ve certainly gotten Foggy’s approval,” Matt replied. 

“Foggy likes me better than you,” you said with a laugh. 

“Yes, I know,” Matt said flatly. “He’s very clear about that.” You held back your giggles. 

“If you came into the office with cookies instead of bruises like me he might like you more,” you joked.

“I do bring in cookies,” he grumbled. 

“Yes, but Foggy knows I made them,” you said. Matt sighed. 

“He wouldn’t like me at all if I brought in cookies that I made,” he said. You giggled at the memory of Matt trying to make your birthday cake and causing the building to evacuate after setting off the smoke alarm. 

“When we have kids I bet he’ll like them better than both of us,” you said. Matt smiled. 

“That’s alright. We can use him as a babysitter that way,” he said. 

“Maybe if Karen’s there too,” you said. Matt chuckled. 

“You don’t trust Foggy with our kids?” He asked. 

“Matty, you have told me far too many stories about you dragging Foggy back to your dorm after a frat party for me to trust Foggy with our kids,” you said. “He will most certainly let one of them do something stupid.” 

“And you think I won’t?” Matt asked. 

“You won’t let them do something stupid, you’ll do it for them,” you said. Matt spun you around in his arms once more as the song came to an end. He kissed your forehead when he pulled you back against him.  Matt’s heart was full at the way the two of you were so casually talking about your kids. He hoped it wouldn’t be long till they were real. He knew what he wanted. He didn’t want to wait for it anymore. There wasn’t anything stopping him now.

“You want to go ring shopping tomorrow?”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x gn!reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader fluff #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock imagines #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagine #charlie cox x reader

[alocon]

A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be [2] - Max Verstappen

written by alocon

Note: Name and Part One based on the song A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be by Jess Benko

Summary: After the release of your first song, released the day before the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix weekend, there is some obvious tension in the garage as you and your ex boyfriend have one final fight for the championship.

Warning: Angst? I guess. Use of Y/N (sorry, I don't like using it but there were a couple of times that I had to bc I didn't have any alternatives), some social media at the end.

[The Masterlist] [Previous Part Here] [Next Part Here]

A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be [Part Two] - MV¹

2024 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix

Thursday - Media Day

"Lovely to see you all," Crofty said, looking around the group of drivers in the press conference. On the couch was Max, Lando, Charles, Lewis and You. "Firstly, Y/N, all of us over at Sky Sports are loving the new song, it’s been the talk of the paddock all morning too. Lots of us want to know, who is it about?”

You chuckled, knowing that you’d be asked at some point. You hadn’t expected it to be so soon. “Firstly, thank you. I’m glad that so many people have been liking it. Lew and I have literally been working on it since like the start of the year. I’m so thankful that he agreed to do the guitar for me because I wouldn’t have been able to do this without him. As for who it’s about.” You paused, looking quickly at Max, who’s eyes were already on you. You looked at him for a moment before turning your attention back to Crofty, making sure to look at glance at the drivers as you did. “It’s about one of my ex’s. I won’t say which one.”

“And the name. How did you come up with the song name? How are you feeling about this weekend, by the way?”

“It was something that he said to explain why we broke up. I like to think that everything happens for a reason, you know? And sometimes, things aren’t meant to be. And that’s just life. I’m just glad that people like it. I’m so excited for this weekend. As you all know, it’s been hard working towards this weekend, and I’m looking forward to giving Max a hell of a hard time.”

He chuckled, looking at you. Your eyes went straight to him, sending him a competitive grin. “Hope you’re looking forward to P2 in the drivers, buttercup.” Him hitting you with the teasing childhood nickname was a surprise. He started calling you that when you were both 14 because he slipped a buttercup into your hand and it scared the life out of you. So since then, he has never let you live it down. You didn’t even hesitate in your response to him.

“I hope you’re looking forward to seeing me on the top step of the podium, Princess Max.” The glare he shot you was almost instantaneous as Charles started laughing, obviously having understood the reference. 

“Right, just for that, I'm taking you out of the race on turn one.” You recognised that teasing tone in his voice, feeling your stomach flutter a little at that beautiful, happy tone that you had missed being directed at you. But you shook it off. ‘He wasn't meant to be, remember?’ you told yourself as the conference continued.

The moment you got out of the press conference, the atmosphere changed. Max walked straight past you, not even daring to look at you. You and Max still rarely talked. Since the start of 2024 you had become more civil, but you were nowhere near friends. 

Max slumped down onto the seat in his driver's room. He ran his hand through his hair, sighing. Fuck. He heard the door open and shut and, moments later, felt a presence on the space beside him on the couch. “Go on, then. What’s up?”

He raised his head to the man, looking at the seriousness all across his face. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Max. I was your teammate for like 2 years. I saw the way you loved her and I saw the mess after you broke up. I also just watched that press conference. Start speaking.” Daniel was persistent, to be fair to him. But he also had a point. Over the years, Daniel had heard a lot about how he felt but he never talked about you to him.

“I regret it. Basically every day. It’s not left my mind since I listened to her song.”

“Still? Max, it’s been 6 years since you broke up with her. Also, YOU broke up with HER. Why would you do that if you didn’t want to?”

Max sighed, the memories of his prior conversation coming back to him.

[November 2018]

“You need to break up with her.” The seven words he had always dreaded hearing. Never in a million years would he ever consider breaking up with you. You were his muse, his soulmate. You were the person he wanted to marry, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It was funny, the words that left the man in front of him’s mouth. He knew he had a long shot of ever getting him to do that.

“Give me one good reason why I should.”

“She’ll just distract you, Max!” Jos’ voice was already doing Max’s head in and he had only said 12 words so far. ‘What happened to hello, how are you?’ He thought, rolling his eyes at the poor excuse that he spilled.

“As if she had ever distracted me before. Seriously, dad. We have been karting and racing together for years, for our entire relationship, and nothing will change now that we are in the same team.”

And that’s how it became an argument. The pair were shouting at each other. And then the bomb dropped. Jos handed Max a photo, making a comment about how he wouldn’t want it to be leaked. Max looked at the photo, his stomach instantly turning with disgust as he realised the photo that his father had managed to get ahold of and was now using it to threaten him, attempting to get him to break up with you, his person, because he wasn’t a fan of you. Jos never had liked you. Whilst being with you, you had helped Max realise that Jos was not a good person by any means, and Jos didn’t like that. As if on queue, your head poked around the door, quickly apologising when you realised that Jos was there. Jos smiled at you, before speaking. “No problem, I was just leaving. Think about what I said, Max.”

—

“What a dick,” Daniel declared, having taken a few moments to process what Max had just explained.

“Daniel, I miss her so much.”

“I know, mate. I know.” Daniel paused his speaking for a minute, attempting to come up with some kind of recommendation. He was fully aware that Max couldn’t express how he felt in person, so he came up with an idea. “Maybe write her a letter. She likes displays of affection like that.”

Race Day.

Crossing the line was the happiest you had been in a while. The race was excellent. For most of the race, Max and you had been fighting for P1 until he barely managed to get out of your DRS range. He ended up being a good few seconds ahead with 10 laps remaining. You didn't let that get to you, though, opting to keep pushing to the very last lap. And you did, getting closer and closer. However, you would've been perfectly happy if Max won. You both put up a brilliant fight and the drive against him was superb. But then you saw your golden opportunity. You overtook him, riskily but safely and fairly, regaining the lead of the race. Final lap. You heard the radio sound, being disappointed when Christian could be heard through it. “Give Max back the position, please.”

“Why should I?” You were pissed. Once again, they were attempting to strip you of everything you had worked hard for, everything that you wanted and dreamed of. Everything that you and Max talked about when you were kids. One day, he would say, one day we'll both be world champions, driving for Red Bull together and happily in love. Well, that last part didn't happen but you weren't about to give up on that.

“Max has worked so hard for this.”

“Fuck off, Christian, so have I.”

He said your name with venom, chuckling as he spoke. “We have a meeting to sign your contract extension tomorrow, remember. You've got to respect what your boss says if you want to keep driving.”

You scoffed as you crossed the finish line. No congratulations from Christian, a congratulations from your amazing race engineer, of course, but he was quickly shushed by Christian. You knew at least Crofty and Martin would be cheering in that commentary box, likely would be referring to it as the most interesting race since Abu Dhabi 2021 or Bahrain 2022.

Getting out of the car, you saw the red bull team. But they weren't cheering for you, they were cheering for Max. You hugged your engineer, excitedly celebrating your first world championship. The one you had worked so hard for day in and day out. You then rushed to hug a bunch of the drivers who were there, starting with Fernando who finished P3 in the race, as well as the championship. Then you went to them all, starting with Lewis, then Charles and Carlos, then Yuki, then Logan and so on. And then you saw Max. He walked to you, giving you a congratulatory hug. You hugged back, your arms going around his waist. You felt his hands move around your shoulders to your neck, confusion filling you as you pulled away from the hug, noticing the Dutch flag wrapped around your shoulders. “If I won, I was going to wear it to the podium. But this time, it's your turn. Congratulations.”

The post race interview started with Fernando, then only Max. When he was asked about how he felt about losing to you, he, too, referenced your childhood. “On the 14th of February 2012, she asked me what my dream was. I told her that it was for us to both make it to F1. For us to both be world champions, driving in the same team. Together. And a couple other things. Whilst we didn't get those other things, I'm happy that we have finally achieved most of our dreams.” It then went onto you. 

Jenson asked about the race, congratulated you, the normal stuff. He then brought up the request from Horner about letting Max win. He smiled softly, signalling for you to speak as much as you wanted. “To be quite honest, Jens, I think it was a stupid team order. For them to assume that I would willingly give up a championship to give it to someone else is insane. I’ve been listening to his orders for years, letting Max through most of the time I was asked. However, when I don't, all I would receive is a lecture. ‘You should’ve listened to us’ he would say. ‘You didn’t deserve that win, you are lucky you are even driving for us, don’t push your luck.’” Your eyes scanned the crowd as you spoke. Disgust about Christian’s actions was over all the driver’s faces. Including Max, who was clearly surprised. Christian, on the other hand, looked as white as a ghost. You continued speaking.

“However, I am not, by any means, upset with Max. I know that none of this was his fault. It was Christian’s,” you said, pausing to take a breath before saying the next thing. This whole year had built up to this moment. “Which is why I am incredibly happy to announce that the contract renewal meeting will not be necessary, because I will be driving for Mercedes AMG Petronas Formula One Team in the 2025 season.” You glanced over to Lewis who had grinned at you, winking, having already known the news. You took this opportunity to lightly tease him about his inability to say the team name. “See, Lew? It’s not that difficult to remember the name.”

“So… Mercedes, huh?”

“Yes, Max. Mercedes. You won’t miss me too much when I’m gone, no?”

He chuckled, sitting on your couch as you packed your stuff up. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. Are you going to the Red Bull Team Party later?”

“I wasn’t invited. Never have been.”

“Really?” He watched you nod. “Well, come anyway. Be my plus one, show them who’s the boss.” He stood up, stepping closer to you. “I’m sorry they favoured me. I never rewatched the races so I never saw the radio. I truly am sorry.”

“Max, it wasn’t your fault. I’ll think about your offer, I need to go.”

“Wait.” He reached in his pocket, pulling out some paper. “Read that when you get to the hotel, please.”

—

Y/N,

You’ll have to bear with me, I will try my best not to waffle too much. I struggle to express how I feel through words, so Daniel suggested a letter.

When I think back to 2018, I realised that I never gave you a proper explanation on why I broke up with you. It was not a choice which I wanted to make. If given the choice, I would’ve chose the opposite, however, given the situation, the choice was obvious.

My father threatened me with a photo. I know what you’re thinking. “Why would a photo give you a reason to break up with me?” Jos managed to get a hold of an inappropriate photo of you, one which he threatened to release if I stayed with you. Believe me, if the opportunity was there, we would still be dating now. However, I couldn’t do this to you. I couldn’t let your reputation in the F1 community get destroyed because I decided to be selfish and stay with you. I hope I can be forgiven for this. I loved your song. It might’ve been the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.

I know that our break up was irreparable. I handled it way worse than I should have. However, I again have reason for this. I feared that, if I wasn’t harsh, you would’ve been determined to keep us working. And I have a soft spot for you, I always have done. I would do anything for you in a heartbeat.

I know I never said it when we were together, and I know that I should have, but I love you more than I have ever loved anyone before. I have since the day we met to the current day. I’m planning to give this letter to you the day of the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, after the race, but it was written before. I hope you know that, no matter what, even if you win the championship, nothing will ever stop me feeling devoted to you. You are my life, my soul, my person. I will love you until the day I take my last breath.

I know we may never be able to repair what we had, but maybe we could just be friends? If so, my number is *** *** *** ***, please message me, schat.

Forever yours,

Maxie xx

-

You messaged him. Of course you did. Deep down, you missed him. He was your person. You were happy he at least wanted to be friends. Sure, he absolutely was a soulmate who wasn't meant to be, but maybe you could at least talk a little more now.

youruser

📍 Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi

liked by maxverstappen1 and others

youruser: and with that, the 2024 season comes to an end. It's been a pleasure, glad to finally have a Championship under my belt x

tagged: maxverstappen1, fernandoalo_oficial, georgerussell63

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maxverstappen1: Been a pleasure driving with you. Can't wait to have you as proper competition next year x

youruser: It's been a great 6 years, Max. x

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youruser

liked by georgerussell63 and others

youruser: My time at Red Bull Racing has come to an end. This decision was not one I took lightly, however, it took little to no consideration to make this decision. The treatment that I received from Red Bull Racing over the years and, more specifically, Christian Horner, has been one I would not wish upon any driver. That being said, Max, you have been a wonderful teammate. Can't wait to beat you again next year, just in a Mercedes this time. Goodbye Oracle Red Bull Racing, hello Mercedes AMG Petronas Formula One Team. (P.s. Christian, I am bringing my race engineer with me xoxo)

tagged: georgerussell63, maxverstappen1, mercedesamgf1

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georgerussell63: Can't wait to be your teammate!!

youruser: so hyped!!

maxverstappen1: Humble yourself, I'll be back to winning the wdc next year

youruser: lmaoooo you wish

mercedesamgf1: What's 4+4??

youruser: ATEEEE

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f1

liked by youruser and others

f1: bet you didn't expect this abu dhabi plot twist!! Our World Champ moves to Mercedes for 2025!!

-comments off-

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maxverstappen1 posted an instagram story!

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-The End-

-Word Count: 2,483 (not incl. social media comments)-

Hi All, I got asked to write a part two so here we go x Sorry if this was bad, it's unedited and it's also currently 1.40am for me. Goodnight everyone, have a good day! Alocon

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