#he is literally the most amazing thing i have laid eyes on | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sseniita · 3 months

Text

breaking generational trauma*

*pls give me a better name for this, im going insane

“She’s like me.”

The villain stared at the child bouncing in the hero’s arms. The hero’s expression wasn’t unlike one she had when she begged for mercy on behalf of a civilian. Simpler, it was similar to when she had begged the villain to take care of her dog while she was away on a mission or when she wanted the last slice of pizza. Overall, the helplessly hopeful demeanor on the hero's face was one villain had become not only familiar with, but also weak against.

“Hero, where did that come from? Put it back.” urged the villain, gesturing towards the bundle of blankets in her arms.

“I can’t! I won’t!” The hero held the child closer, protectively, as if the villain was the one being irresponsible here.

“Like you?” The villain asked, intrigued. “There is no one like you, Hero.”

The hero readjusted the child on her hip, freeing one arm to grab paperwork rolled up in her back pocket. “That’s what I thought! Look!” She hastily handed over the crumpled up letters to the villain. It didn’t take more than reading the title for everything to click.

“Experiment 02? You mean-?”

“She’s from the same tests! We came from the same lab! They were going to do exactly what they did to me- to her-”

“Because of the success you were. I get it.” There was a pause between them for a second.

The hero was godlike in some ways and machine-like in less important ways. A literal biological weapon, forged since birth. It was an experiment, you could go so far as to call it an accident. Purposeful or not, the hero was the result of a successful lab sourced super-power. It had taken many years for the hero to come to terms with how she became the hero she was, and even longer to investigate and ultimately discover who was behind all of it. Evidently, she had.

“I can’t let them do it again.” She whispered, holding the child closely to her chest.

It was six months into knowing each other that hero confessed she didn't like being a hero. It was eight months later the villain found out why.

The villain sighed, motioning for her to walk into his apartment. Once they were comfortable on the villain’s couch, he began to ask a million questions.

Where? A hidden lab. Why? She couldn't leave her there. Her answers we stable and much too clear of mind considering the hero had just stolen a child.

“How old is it?” He finally asked, skimming through the lab documents.

“It's her. And about 4 months, I think. I just don’t get why they’re starting now. I never found any evidence to show they were doing anything before.” She restlessly bounced the baby. “I just don’t get it.”

The villain raised a brow at her, she raised one back. “What do you know?” she scooted closer to the villain.

“Superheroes are either decommissioned or retire around 50. But most lose relevance and popularity by 30. Whether it be they can’t keep their figure, or a newer, shinier thing comes around.” He scoffed. “Never ceases to amaze me” he said half-heartedly, staring down at the documents. The hero’s mouth dropped.

“I just celebrated my 25th birthday?! You’re saying I’m old and ugly?!” The villain rolled their eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re perfect and probably always will be." He realized what he had just said, he quickly interrupted the hero as she was about to open her mouth. "It’s just how it goes. Once you reach 30, people aren’t as interested. It’s fucked.” The hero quickly caught on.

“So, she’s my replacement?”

“Seems like it. Nova, she’ll be called once she turns 15. Thankfully, tests hadn't started on her. They had her on weird ass diet to prepare her, though. You caught her in time.”

The hero was sitting close enough that the villain could peek at the baby’s sleeping face. She was so serene and had no idea what had already been laid out for her, all the pain and suffering, in the name of good. She’ll have no choice. Just like the hero. The villain often stared at the hero in the domestic settings they sometimes found themselves in. He’d imagine her on a lunch break from some normal, boring office job when they got late night coffees during the hero’s night shifts. Or at a dinner party whenever they teamed up and went undercover at some fancy party. God- he would have given anything to save his hero from the fate that was chosen for her. The little girl had chubby cheeks and looked so dreadfully soft. Just like the hero.

Shit. The villain thought, looking at the baby. I have a chance to save you.

The villain sighed and leaned back, done reading the crumpled pages, discarding the documents on the coffee table, defeated, just like that. It only took 10 minutes. Maybe he had gone soft.

“Eloise. Her name is Eloise.” He exasperated. It was heart wrenching to hear the hero start to coo at the baby. “No living family.” He hammered the last nail on his coffin.

“Hello, little Lulu. Is that your name? Lulu? You’re so cute! Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you” She baby-talked, pecking kisses all over Eloise's forehead, evidently disturbing her sleep. “Oh sorry- sorry!” she whispered to the baby.

She turned to the villain, eyes twinkling with hope. “I can keep her? Right?” The villain crossed his arms.

“Hero, I’m not going to tell you what to do.”

“Haha- that’s your way of saying you unconditionally support me.” She said as she cuddled the baby even closer.

“Please let that child breathe, hero. You can’t hold her too close.” He reached a hand to push the baby a little further away from the hero’s chest. She beamed. “You’d be a great dad! Already keeping me in line!”

Please don’t start.

Despite himself, he looked for the best way to act disinterested and yet not fully close the window on that chance.

“No hero. I know how much this means to you, but I’m not taking care of a baby. I’m not sure if you’ve forgotten- I’m a villain. This is no environment for a child- even if I wanted one. You have my approval if that’s what you’re looking for, but that’s it.”

The hero ignored that, making a show of looking around the villain’s extremely cosy and expensive flat. Dark green wallpaper with flowers, a white brick fireplace with old books on the mantel. The place was decorated with the plushiest of carpets, and liveliest of plants. Each curtain hid a beautifully ornate window overlooking one of the safest areas in the inner city. The hero could see the hero offices which she resided in from here. Finally, her stare landed on the large spare bedroom where not only did the hero have a drawer of her things but had also spent countless nights in, recovering and playing patient to a medically trained villain. She raised her eyebrows at the villain.

“No.”

“Please.”

“Hero. You are always the one saying you wanted a family. This might be your only chance- ok, I get it. But she can’t stay here.

“I live in the dorms of the Hero Offices with 20 other heroes! I don’t and can’t have my own place! I’ll be found out for sure! There are probably a million people looking for her right now!”

“Hero-”

“Villain please. I can’t let them find her. I need you.” She placed a hand on his thigh, seemingly not noticing the villain’s twitch.

“Hero. I’m not a good person, you seem to forget. You cannot have that much trust in me-”

“You are the only person I can trust. Please.” She begged.

Perhaps the villain wasn’t the only one to blame, perhaps both of them had let this get too far. It started off normally, the fights, the one-liners, and bruises. And out of nowhere, the subtle flirting, the late night talks, the absolutely vulgar displays of emotions they’d never shared with anyone else, hit them like a brick. The hero had changed the villain’s life for the better. He no longer felt unbearably lonely and burdened, haunted by the constant terror and forcefulness of his occupation.

Villain had fallen in love months ago. And he had gotten far in distancing himself and learning to un-love. Now he had to take care of a baby with her that just happened to look like a perfect combination of both of them? His dark hair and tanned skin, her warm brown eyes and button nose. Just perfect.

“Fine.” He squeezed his eyes shut as the hero leaned against him, setting her head right under his neck, thankfully she didn’t hurl the baby to give him a hug. Maybe I deserve kisses on my forehead for Gods’ sake. He quickly hurled that thought away.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” She beamed, kicking her feet. “This means so much, you have no idea!”

“Hero, this is temporary. If anyone finds out about this-”

“Ya, ya, I know. Don’t worry. Everything will be ok! I’ll make sure of it!”

The villain’s only hope was believing her. She was an atom bomb inside a 25 year old woman after all. Maybe he shouldn’t underestimate her. As she moved in towards the guestroom with Eloise, the villain watched intently, she set her down for a nap on the bed, and once she finally came out she looked determined and extremely excited. She plopped down on the couch making sure they were touching side by side so the villain could look at what she was seeing on her phone. Her fingers scrolled down a website titled ‘what to buy when you're expecting’ the villain groaned.

After an hour of the hero paraphrasing a multitude of blogs and villain jotting down notes, they had completed a list of things they needed to raise a child. The hero deflated when she mentioned how they’d have to skimp out on baby toys and clothes, but she quickly recovered after the villain reassured her money wouldn’t be an issue. Apparently villainy had its perks.

“So what are you going to do about the corporation? Can you really make sure this won’t happen again?” The villain asked the hero from the entrance way. The hero walked over, baby in arms, the villain helped the hero get her coat back on.

“Uh well. I maybe, sort of, accidentally, may have burned the place down…? Timidly she made eye contact with the villain who only chuckled.

“I may have also stolen any hard drive I could have found and threw it in the river.” The villain’s laugh only continued as he put a hand on the small of her back and led her out the door.

As they were walking to get a car seat- the first of many things on their list- the hero had asked the villain to hold Eloise while she used the lady’s room. She had been asleep when the villain got her but quickly after, she woke up. The villain immediately felt a panic and he feared she might start crying, he held her close, bouncing and hushing her to get her back to sleep. Eloise stared up at the villain for a long time before breaking into giggles, reaching her tiny arms up to touch his nose, getting the attention of the shoppers who started cooing at the handsome man rocking the baby with the loudest giggles ever.

Right then and there, as he felt the tiniest, softest hands grab his nose, the villain knew he was completely and utterly wrapped around, not only the hero’s finger, but of these tiny fingers as well.

pt 2

#hero x villain #villain x hero #enemies to lovers #writing #original fiction #no i wont stop writing about dad!villain #there will be a part 2 cause i love them dearly #mom hero???#dad villain #not proofread !!

121 notes · View notes

mxqdii · 5 months

Note

can u write matt w/ gf who has depression bc of college? I'm literally living a nightmare rn and i need some fluff

a/n: if you ever need to talk my dms are open ml!! anyways hope you enjoy <33

take a break - m.s

pairings: matt sturniolo x reader

summary: reader is stressed cause of college and starts to break

warning(s): crying, stress, matt comfort

not proofread

getting into my dream college was the best and worst thing to ever happen to me

dont get me wrong, its great, and most people would kill to be where i am right now

but... i am mentally dying.

preparing for my SATs, going to work, hanging out with people,

its too much

not to mention, this week not only do i have to study but i have a big project due

its all just impossible

my phone rings and i get a bunch of looks, mumbling a few 'sorrys' as i leave the library

"hello?" i say, now in the hallway

"hi baby, are you okay?" my boyfriend, matt, asks

"oh hi matt! yeah, yeah im fine" i lie, feeling the tears brim my eyes at his question

"no you're not, talk to me, whats wrong?"

thats my breaking point

"i just- its too much matt, this is all too much, SATs, i have a project and- i just-" i try to get the words out, but fail, not making any sense

"hey, it's okay, listen to me, ill be there in 10 minutes okay? just go to your dorm and we'll figure it out okay baby?" he says and i sigh

"matt you dont have to-"

"im already on my way love" he says and i sigh

what did i do to deserve such an amazing boyfriend

i walk back to my dorm, wiping my tears as they fall

i unlock my door, seeing flowers and my favorite food laid out on the table

"hi baby" matt says, standing in front of me

"how- how?" i ask

"i've been here for an hour now, i was gonna surprise you later but you were upset so i thought it'd be better if you came now" he explains and my expression softens

"matt..." i say, walking up to hug him

"thank you, so much. i love you so much" i say as he rubs my back

"i love you more princess"

TAGLIST:

@opheliaofficial07 @stargirlv0id @strnilolo @annaisabookworm @theperson-nextdoor @prettysturniolo @its-jennarose @gottamakemyhatersmad @luvsturniolo

#madispeaks!#matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo headcannons #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #fluff #sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic

258 notes · View notes

moonschocolate · 6 days

Text

WILDFLOWERS ☆

PAIRING: loser!Theo Nott x hufflepuff!female!reader

GENRE: Fluff

WC: 4.1K

SUMMARY: Y/n gets a text late at night from Mattheo, who's asking her on a date, but is it really Mattheo who's gonna show up, or...?

It was well past midnight, when Mattheo texted y/n. “Hey wanna talk abt that potions project in front of a butterbeer, tmrw?”. Not sure if he was hitting on her, she woke her friend Leanne up. At least, she believed she was asleep. “Hey, Leanne, wake up.” she said whispering, getting close to her bed.

Leanne just grabbed the blanket over her and threw it away, red and tired eyes glancing at y/n, phone in her hand. She was probably reading something. “Why are you whispering? I’m everything but asleep” she said as she fixed her hair, trying to get it out of her face. “Oh” y/n said, doing what seems to be thinking, and the second after throwing herself on her bed.

“Mattheo,” she paused, looking at her waiting for a sign of Leanne, which would show that she knows who he is. She nodded. “literally just texted me, asking if I wanna go out with him to talk about a potions project, which was assigned today” Leanne looked at her, a smirk growing on her face. “THAT Mattheo asked you out?! Show me that text right now” Leanne said looking over y/n’s phone, which showed her the chat. “You think he likes me? I don’t” y/n said, anxiety rushing over her.

Sure, Mattheo may be good-looking and charismatic, but she had her eyes laid on Theodore, one of Mattheo’s closest friends. She believed it would’ve been impossible being with him, a dream which would clearly not come true, given that she was too shy, and just being around him would make her super anxious. Theo on the other hand…was just as awkward as her. Maybe he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable, just really awkward, and would start stuttering and saying unnecessary things. Leanne knew about this, but she didn’t want to make her friend uncomfortable, since that unlucky episode which leaded y/n to go to the hospital wing. She’s still so sorry, and she doesn’t want to talk about this again.

“Are you gonna go or not?” Leanne asked, impatient. “Yes, I’m gonna go, but I want to make clear that I don’t want anything romantic with him, but if it’s just as friends then I’m cool with it.” she said, ready to take Leanne’s disapproval. “y/n” she sighed out, looking at her with her head tilted. “Of course he’s going out with you romantically. Just go and see if you’re gonna get a second date.” y/n just nodded, murmuring a yes. Then she quickly said goodnight to Leanne, and grabbed the phone which she previously threw on her bed just to answer the boy. “Yea cool!! Does 4:30 pm sound good? :)” it took no time for the boy to reply. “Sure! See you tomorrow! Gn” she smiled. “Gn! :D”

It was total chaos in the slytherin dorms. Theodore was sitting on his bed, head in his hands as he refused to talk to anyone, Mattheo proud of himself, while Draco, Lorenzo and Blaise were drunkenly cheering, alcohol in their hands, ties gone who-knows-where.

“Boys we did it!” Mattheo cheered out loud, throwing himself on the bed. “Mate you’re gonna have such an amazing date.” “Matt I’m really not going anywhere, you’re just drunk.” Theodore replied, still in misery.

He was really frustrated, because there is no way his best friend just set him up on a date with the most stunning girl of Hogwarts, who probably doesn’t even know him. He was so sure she would be disappointed if rather than Mattheo, he showed up instead. So he had to plan a simple excuse out, so Mattheo could go, as y/n expected.

“Hey, the fact Matt’s drunk just means that he got the boost he needed to actually do this, ‘cause we sure as hell had this planned out a DECADE ago” said Lorenzo, who was sitting on the floor with his back on his wall, trying to defend Mattheo. “And a little boost is all you need to finally get together with that girl.” Said Draco, supporting Lorenzo. “It’s not gonna be that bad anyways, she’s just a girl, and we’re sure you’re gonna do a great impression!” Blaise said, trying to cheer Theodore up. “Remember how me and Lo got together? Just as this, Blaise planned a “date” with Lo and I showed up instead, and that’s when we finally got together!” Matt said, looking over at Lo, who leaned over the bed to give Mattheo a quick peck on the lips.

“Yea but you were best friends who were just confused and wanted to get together, we haven’t ever talked and she probably doesn’t like me!” Theodore spit out, his expression just as emotionless as before. “Don’t be quick on making assumptions, ‘cause that’s what I exactly thought about Astoria, turns out she had been obsessing over me for a year or something” Draco said, trying to get Theodore to look on the bright side.

“Yea but can one of you come with me at least?” asked Theodore hopefully. “Hell no! We’re just gonna watch from afar, it’s a fucking date, mate” bursted out Mattheo. “Yea yea” babbled Theo. He thought ‘That was a really dumb question’. “Hey we’ll help to get you ready, don’t worry too much about it, ‘kay?” said Lorenzo in a reassuring tone. Despite their comforting words, the date was all he could think about.

“Casual? Something more tight? A cute dress?”.

Pansy was violently looking through her friend’s wardrobe, asking her other friends what she could wear. It was 3 pm, which was way too late for the other girls, considering there was only an hour and a half left before her date. Padma, Parvati, Pansy and Leanne were hurriedly running around her room trying to find the right things: the right make-up, the right clothes, the right accessories, the right everything.

“You have to look stunning- not that you usually don’t but- ugh you got it” she said giggling. She nodded at her best friend, with an understanding look on her face, laughing too. Although Pansy was y/n’s best friend, she had quite a bond with the other girls, too. “You can absolutely trust with your life me and Padma on the hair. After all, Indian hair care is the best one ever, everyone knows it.” Parvati declared, with Padma humming along.

“Okay so you and Parvati do the hair, I choose the outfit, so Leanne, you’re in charge of the make-up.” Pansy clarified, with a strong “say no more” from Leanne. “Listen, if I really can’t wear pants I can only wear that long skirt right there, or in general any skirt or dress that reaches further than my knee” said y/n, making clear that miniskirts were not going to be worn.

“Y/n babe, listen I got the perfect outfit in mind. This sweater” a beige cable knit sweater, pretty short with long sleeves “with this” just a simple white shirt with a collar “with these tights, with this miniskirt, that you will wear” she said strictly “okay but I get to wear a long coat right?” asked y/n, hopefully getting a ‘yes’ in response. “If you don’t you’d freeze so…yeah I’m letting you” Pansy said, reluctantly.

She could’ve sworn that she heard y/n hiss a yes, but it wasn’t really important.

“And, for some accessories, these cute white leg warmers that I didn’t know you had, when were you gonna tell me? Plus these Vivienne Westwood jewelry, that I know you love. What do you think girls?” as y/n was about to speak, Pansy shut her off. “I’m asking the girls.”

As y/n rolled her eyes smiling, the girls were all so approving of that outfit and they couldn’t wait to see y/n in it. “Now, make-up. What color do you-” y/n roughly interrupted Leanne “No color. I’ve already sacrificed a lot with the outfit, no color please. If you really want something more colorful, anything brown or bronze. Leanne don’t look at me like that NOW YOU’RE MAKING ME FEEL GUILTY-” y/n joked chuckling a bit.

After a sigh, Leanne continued “Fine”. In something like 10 minutes, the make-up was done, and it turned out so good y/n almost didn’t ever want to take it off. The dressing part was quite fast, except for the jewelry, which took a lot to be chosen, between all the necklaces, and earrings. As for the hair, after a lot of styles, which were all denied by Padma and Parvati, y/n surrendered and styled her hair the way they wanted, which included letting her hair loose; even not styling it, it looked so cute. Now she was ready, and just in time. It was 4:10pm, which gave her the time to walk to Hogsmeade. The girls all cheered her on, but y/n really felt bad, because she really didn’t want to date Mattheo, he wasn’t really her type. Always screaming, interrupting lessons, and overall he wasn’t really her thing.

He was probably a very nice person, but…she was not romantically interested. But if he really liked her, which she believed would be very unlikely, she would feel bad for breaking his heart, and would probably cry. She wished she had Pansy’s personality, she always looks so sure about what she does… Why would she feel bad for something she doesn’t believe will happen?

Just ten minutes before, Theodore was freaking out, while his friends were all happy and yelling. In this situation, he didn’t see anything funny, he was about to go on a date with the cutest girl of all Hogwarts, who he admired for so long from afar, never had the courage to approach her, and now without knowing even what’s her favorite color (he actually knows, it’s lilac) he’s going on a date with her?! What if she’s disappointed? She’s probably going to be disappointed. But now there was nothing he could do except dress how they wanted and just go.

“So what pair of jeans do you want? What hoodie?” Mattheo asks, opening his wardrobe. “Are you kidding me? Hell no I’m not wearing jeans and a hoodie for a date!” Theodore said, feeling kind of attacked. “You make me so proud Theo” Blaise said while jokingly wiping a tear off his face. He was surely the most fashionable one of the group, no one ever questioned that. “Ahem, if you let me” Blaise made his way to the wardrobe, without confronting anyone he pulled out the wardrobe what needed to be worn. “First of all, blue aran sweater with a shirt under it, and some brown trousers, with a thin belt of course, and most important of all, these loafers” Blaise then turned around, proud of his choice of clothes, looking at the others.

As they all went silent, thinking about it, Mattheo burst out laughing. “Loafers?! Are you kidding me? Fucking loafers?!” “If you knew what to wear except for the same two sweaters everyday, didn’t smell like a fucking elephant and didn’t wear those shoes just because they’re expensive and not because you like them, you’d have a say in this, but guess what! You don’t.” Blaise shrugged.

“Okay he may not know how to dress, but-” Lorenzo stated, to which Mattheo interrupted him. “You’re supposed to defend me!” “Okay first of all, don’t interrupt me, second of all, he may not know how to dress, but he definitely doesn’t smell, and Mattheo I’m just saying that when we go on dates, I pick your clothes” “you’re not supposed to say that!”

While everyone laughed, Mattheo wasn’t as entertained.

“Now quit with the chatting, go change and then Draco can finally choose your cologne” Blaise threw himself on a bed, his hands intertwined behind his head, with Draco sitting on the same bed, gently placing some colognes on another bed. “Be quick!!” Lorenzo shouted from the other room, while Theo closed the door of the bathroom, sitting on the WC for some minutes, trying to clear his mind.

It’s no problem at all, I’m just gonna go on a date with a girl that doesn’t know I’m her date and- everything is gonna go so bad.

His moral was really down and nothing could really help, but he tried to let these thoughts go away and just change instead. It wasn’t long until he came out of the bathroom, Blaise fixing his hair a bit, while Draco, who had tested all colognes on Blaise’s arm, sprayed, finally, the cologne on Theo. “The scent of tobacco is too strong, did you just smoke?!” Theo hummed a no, smelling his clothes. They didn’t quite smell like tobacco, though. “Draco I haven’t smoked since…an hour or two ago? Maybe it’s just the bedroom” “No no it’s you pretty boy, it’s definitely you” Mattheo accused Theo, walking up to him.

“Just abuse the hell out of this and spray the whole bottle or something” Mattheo grabbed the bottle and sprayed a lot of it on Theo, who kept coughing uncontrollably. “Now I think you’re ready!”

Draco though wasn’t as pleased with himself like Mattheo, who just wasted not-so-few milliliters of his dear cologne. Enzo also walked up to him, putting his hands on his shoulders. “Make her yours Theo, now go there!” “first I…wanted to um…buy her a bouquet of flowers” the last sentence was barely audible, but oh if they heard it. “AWH that’s so cute yea yea but do you know what her favorite flowers are? You can’t just go with roses you kno-” “of course I know what her favorite flowers are. WILDFLOWERS.” Theo interrupted Blaise, who looked at him shocked. “That’s impressive…but creepy too” “Yea yea now go buy those damn flowers and take her out on this damn date, we don’t need to know what flowers you get her, we need to know if she likes you or not and if you’ll be girlfriend and boyfriend” Draco harshly said, which made Theo stop and think about it.

He was really paranoid. Luckily he was just in time to be able to buy the bouquet and be a little early too. Would she show up? He didn’t want to embarrass himself waiting for a girl who wouldn’t arrive. He shaked those thoughts out of his head and kept walking to Hogsmeade.

While walking to The Three Broomsticks, the atmosphere was just as cute as it could be. It was the middle of October, and the colors that dominated were red, orange, yellow and brown, on the trees and on the ground. Looking around, she saw first years jumping over the crunchy leaves, with big scarves around their neck, to prevent getting a horrendous cold on this freezing day. She thought that deciding to wear tights right now could’ve been a really bad decision.

Just as y/n was walking over The Three Broomsticks, looking for Mattheo, she spotted Theodore instead, with a bouquet of flowers who happened to be her favorite. She immediately felt a chest pain which wasn’t about to go away in a short period of time. Was he going on a date with another girl? Right now? It’s not like he fancies her, and he can’t know she likes him, quite a lot to be honest. So, obviously he has the right to go on dates. Why is this pain not leaving her alone? She tries to not think much about it (unsuccessfully) and to just wait for Mattheo, who was probably just late.

As time went on, she saw that Theo still didn’t go in with a girl, so he was probably waiting too, until…she saw him coming towards her, really awkwardly she might add. She felt like being swallowed by the ground would be the best option right now, but unfortunately, it wasn’t an option. Just before speaking, Theo cleared his throat.

“Um…I know you’re probably waiting for Mattheo right now but…I’m here instead” he smiled awkwardly, but after a slight look of confusion on y/n’s face he quickly corrected himself “It’s not like he’s sick or anything I’m just here because well um my friends set this as a date for me and you but they wanted it to look more mysterious so they didn’t really want you to know that…I was gonna be here” while talking, Theodore looked everywhere but to y/n’s eyes. She also noticed he had started rambling, and honestly it was really cute.

“Oh I almost forgot- these flowers are for you…” he looked really interested in y/n’s shoes at the moment, who had captivated Theodore’s sight. Y/n could feel her ears burn, as she got the flowers he gently handed to her. “T-Thank you…” not talking for a while made her voice crack at the start, which made her get even more embarrassed. “Should we, um, get in?” Theodore started immediately fidgeting with his fingers, looking for once at her. “Yea!” they awkwardly walked in, Theodore opened the door for her, while y/n admired the flowers and how much of a gentleman Theo was.

She noticed she has never fully admired how cozy The Three Broomsticks looks. Given that it was winter, the sun was going down earlier, so the lights were on, which gave the pub a rather warm look. The chatting noise in the background made it more lively, and while y/n was lost in admiring the lights, Theo shook her from her dreams, walking pretty slowly to a table. She ran quickly to it, sitting down, picking at her fingers. The silence between them was agonizing, because neither of them wanted to break it, waiting for the other to do so.

Y/n decided to speak first, choosing a basic phrase that would help move things along. “So…how was your day?” a genuine smile made its way on y/n’s face, waiting patiently for an answer. “Pretty good” Theo then realized that she probably wanted to start a conversation, so he tried saying something more

“except for potions, and the fact that I got paired with Cormac McLaggen, who wouldn’t stop talking about girls, not in an admirable way I might add.” When the smile slowly vanished from y/n’s face, Theo realized he probably made her uncomfortable.

“But um…how did your day go?” he leaned forward on the table, his forearms resting on it. “Pretty good for me too, Pansy has been talking about this date all day, helping me get ready with other girls and all…” Oh god. There was a high chance she probably messed this up. She wasn’t supposed to say this, but luckily enough Theo realized too from the look on her face, so he quickly changed the topic. “I heard you like listening to music, what music do you like?” y/n almost jumped from her seat. She definitely loves that question. Especially when she doesn’t know what the other person listens to. “Oh it really depends, I listen to literally anything! But most commonly I listen to Laufey, Lamp and TV Girl,…What about you?” Theo quickly replied. “Blaise listens to TV Girl so I do know some of their songs, but I usually listen to Frank Ocean and Mac Miller, I know quite a lot of their songs.” Y/s eyes lit up, she really found a boy who listened to that kind of music! That just made him prettier.

Finally the time to order came, and…panic. Usually, when they were with their groups, other people ordered for them, so it had never been a problem ordering, but now…As the waiter came, they quickly ordered something, and they only managed to do it because they didn’t want to embarrass themselves in front of the other. While chatting and getting to know each other, their orders came, and they began to quietly eat.

Theo only now realized that this was the right moment. Now there was no going back, and he had to ask her to be his girlfriend. If she answered no…well, maybe it’s better asking first, and think about it later.

“Y/n mmh I…have been…admiring you for a long time and I…” y/n almost choked on her butterbeer. She quickly wiped her lips and looked at him, her heart beating too fast. She tried controlling her breath, listening to his every word with all the attention she had.

“Well, I really wanted- well- want, to ask you if you’d…like to be my girlfriend” Theo could now run away or listen to her answer, but he was too anxious to move. Y/n’s voice cracked, so she slowly nodded “Yes- yes!” it was so surreal, none of them believed it. Theo had never been so proud of himself, he packed all that courage to be able to ask her this, and it was totally worth it. Y/n felt her ears go on fire, and she anxiously played with the hem of her beige sweater.

Wait, what did Theo have to do now? Oh. Oh. Kiss her. What if she thought he was a bad kisser? (Joke’s on you Theo, she has never kissed anyone and doesn’t know how) What if- oh fuck it- he leaned in close to her, looked at her eyes with his magnetic ones and did it. He kissed her. It was rather awkward, but this was their first kiss. Ever.

“Now um do we go back to our dorms or…”maybe she shouldn’t have said that. She definitely shouldn’t have said that. But another time, Theo just pretended there was nothing wrong with it. “Yes, let’s go” they got up, both going to pay.

“Oh don’t worry, this was on me.” Theo gently put his arm in front of her, as if to stop her. “But-” “I insist. Please.” Y/n then put her wallet in her pocket, smiling. “Fine.” Theo smirked back, and paid what needed to be paid.

As they were walking back to Hogwarts, silence reigned. A comfortable one. Their hands, intertwined with one another, were warming each other. The sky was now dark, and Theo then spoke up. “Now it’s too dark to go to your dorm alone, let me escort you.” “Are you sure?” “I’ve never been more sure than now.” “I appreciate it. Thank you.” With the flowers in one of her hands, after being escorted from Theo to her dorm and kissing his cheek (which made Theo stutter all over again), she finally made it inside her dorm.

“So? How did it go with The- uhm Mattheo?” Pansy was towering in front of her, her hands on her shoulders, and she had the biggest smile, ever, waiting for a reply. The other girls were all just behind her.

“You knew?!” “Well…maybe Mattheo…Draco…or Blaise…mentioned it but uhm…” now Pansy backed up a little, trying to hold her laugh.

“Hello? We’d also like to know!” Parvati was looking expectantly at both y/n at Pansy. “Looks like it didn’t go that bad, looking at those flowers you’ve got over there” Padma took the flowers from y/n’s hand, placing them near, with the intention of putting them in a vase.

“The thing is…it wasn’t Mattheo who was waiting for me…but uh…” their expression was priceless. Pure confusion, as they waited to hear who the other man was. “Well, Theo.”

“THAT Theo!?!?” Leanne bursted out, and again, the girls’ reaction was genuinely hilarious.

“Yes, Theodore Nott.” y/n tried to hold in her laugh as much as she could, their faces were getting funnier and funnier.

“Damn y/n how did it go?!” Now they were all impatient, but they sure as hell wanted a long explanation, so they sat on the floor and on the beds, waiting for y/n to start telling the whole thing.

Some good 20 minutes passed, and she told them everything. Every little detail, from how he opened the door to make her go in first, to how always ignored her totally-out-of-place comments (to which they “scolded” her, and laughed at her). She also told them about his horrible jokes (that didn’t stop y/n from laughing a lot to them). She might’ve also cried a bit from happiness, who wouldn’t? After going out on a date with your crush, and getting literal flowers. Not only that, but they’re also your favourite kind.

“I know we asked you to tell us everything, but we need to go eat dinner too!” Leanne then got up and continued, “So maybe, we should go eat dinner, and on the way you’ll tell us everything, ok?”

They all slowly got up, and walked their way out of the dorm, to the great hall. Y/n took a moment to stop, and think. She had a boyfriend. not just any boyfriend. Theodore Nott.

A/N: Posting this feels like some kind of liberation honestly, it's been so many months since I got that request that I'll probably never find anymore, here we are. Also, did I actually write in the fic that reader is a hufflepuff? I don't remember. Sorry for using y/n but in third pov, I can't help it. Last thing, absolutely tell me if you can find anything worth a trigger warning! I think this is the fluffiest fluff ever, so I'm not sure there may be any.

#harry potter #harry potter universe #hp #hp universe #hp fandom #hp fanfic #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #theodore nott #theo nott #slytherin boys #slytherin boys fluff #fluff #theo nott fanfiction #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fluff #that's enough💀

87 notes · View notes

proxima-writes · 1 year

Text

Title: cruel summer | chapter 3

Pairing: Joel Miller/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Chapters: 6/6

Read on AO3 | Join the tag list

Summary:

Joel takes a contracting job renovating a master bedroom and bathroom while the homeowners are away for the summer on a cruise.

He wasn’t expecting their twenty-three year old daughter and the thoughts he’d have about her.

Author’s Note: thank you so much for all the love on this little fic! Please consider leaving a comment because they make my whole day 🖤

Additional warnings/tags: age difference (15 years), explicit sexual content, dirty talk (like a LOT), pet names, vaginal fingering, begging, mentions of overstimulation, mentions of oral (f receiving), p in v, fluff, mild angst. Let me know if I’m missing anything!

The next couple weeks feel like a dream that you never want to wake up from. Joel comes over every morning and gives you a sweet kiss before heading upstairs to start on his work while you study, actually being able to focus now that the air is cleared with him. He comes down at lunch and sits beside you with a hand on your thigh while you chat and eat, his eyes all soft as he watches you gesture wildly about the topic at hand.

He’s come back over a couple times after working hours. If Tommy or his neighbor’s teenage daughter are able to watch Sarah for a couple hours, he’ll stop by your house to spend time with you. Most of his visits just end with making out on the couch like a couple of teenagers because no matter how much you beg, he still won’t fuck you.

You can’t tell if it’s a residual feeling of guilt or something else, but it’s driving you insane. He’ll enthusiastically do just about anything else, including a memorable evening where he laid you out on the couch and leisurely ate your pussy until you had to literally shove him away from how overstimulated you were getting. And while that was amazing, you want more from the older man.

Two weeks after your conversation and subsequent activities, Joel comes downstairs on a Friday with a smile on his face.

“Hey, baby,” he says, leaning down to kiss you. His tongue traces your bottom lip, slipping into your mouth to slide with yours. “How’s studyin’?” He asks as he pulls away, huffing a laugh as you chase his lips with a pout.

“Fine. Boring. How’s the manly manual labor?”

“Comin’ along nicely. Listen, I wanna ask you somethin’,” he says. “Sarah wants to go to the aquarium tomorrow to see the mermaids. She asked if you could come, too.”

You blink in surprise. “Sarah asked for me?”

“Yeah, she won’t shut up about you,” he replies. “You don’t gotta come if you’ve already got—“

“I do! I mean, I do…want to go. To the aquarium with you and Sarah,” you interrupt.

“Good, that’s…good,” Joel says. You’re just smiling at each other like a couple idiots. He clears his throat and glances away for a second. “We can pick you up tomorrow morning. How’s nine?”

“Nine sounds great.”

He nods, knocking his knuckles against the table top in the way he does when he needs to leave but doesn’t want to. He leans down for another kiss, this one chaste and quick as he bids you goodbye.

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

_______

Joel parks the truck in front of your house, sending you a quick text to let you know he’s here. Sarah is bouncing in her seat, her little body unable to contain her excitement.

He watches you come out the front door in a fucking sundress of all things and he has to bite back a groan of appreciation. You’re usually in shorts or leggings at your house, which are tempting enough, but your little blue sundress with strawberries printed on it has just jumped to the top of his list of “best things he’s ever seen in his life”.

Joel gets out of the driver’s seat and circles the truck to open the door for you, helping you up into the lifted cab. His hand lingers on your upper back, fingers dragging across your warm, smooth skin. He smiles with smug satisfaction as he watches your arms erupt with goosebumps from his touch.

Sarah calls your name excitedly. “We’re gonna see mermaids!”

You twist in your seat to respond. “I know! Just like Ariel, huh?”

Sarah nods excitedly and proceeds to list off the rest of the animals she’s excited to see, including the stingrays and otters and sharks. You nod along with her list and tell her about how much you love otters, and did she know that otters hold hands when they’re sleeping so that they don’t float away from each other?

Joel can’t stop smiling. He can’t remember the last time he smiled for so long his cheeks ached. Your eyes flit to him briefly and you smile back, bright and sweet.

He parks the truck amongst the hundreds of other visitors in the parking lot and Sarah frees herself from the confines of her car seat. You hop down and join her on the pavement, his daughter’s arms wrapping around your waist and holding tightly until Joel joins the two of you.

“Let’s go see some mermaids,” he says.

________

Sarah’s sitting beside you, her little hand holding tightly to yours while she breathlessly watches the mermaid show. It’s two young women in gorgeous green and red tail suits, diving and flipping while an emcee narrates the show. They take the occasional break with a breathing apparatus, but otherwise they’re holding their breath while smiling and waving at the kids sitting with their noses pressed to the tank glass.

When the show ends, Joel asks Sarah whether she wants to meet the mermaids, earning him a shriek that you interpret to be a yes. He holds her hand as you get in line for the meet and greet, and gives her his undivided attention while she recounts every minute of the exact show he just watched beside her.

Joel insists that you get in the picture with them. A teen with a Polaroid camera tells you to smile.

You don’t have to be told twice.

Sarah clutches that Polaroid protectively to her chest and proclaims, “This is the best day ever!”

Your heart feels like it’s going to burst.

________

Joel takes his girls out for dinner after a long day at the aquarium. Sarah sits beside him in the booth at a local bar and grill, clutching a stuffed otter you insisted on buying for her despite his objections that he didn’t want you spending money.

“When’s that exam again?” He asks, snagging one of the nachos from the plate in the center.

“Ugh, end of next week,” you groan. “At this point I’m just ready for it to be over. If I never look at another physics practice test, I’ll die a happy woman.”

“What happens next?”

“Well, I go back to school for senior year. If I bomb the exam, I can take it again before April so that I have my scores available to apply to med school in May,” you say, ticking the steps off on your fingers. “Since I graduate before the end of the application cycle, I’ll have a gap to fill. I was thinking of making it a research year.”

Sometimes, especially in moments like this, Joel finds himself in awe of you, of the way you have your life planned out and your goals ready for conquering. When he was your age, he was still working odd jobs until one finally stuck that he could actually make a living from.

It’s also moments like this that he wonders if he’ll fit into your plans. If you’ll even want him to, or if you’ll go after your next goal and leave him behind, just a fun time from a cruel summer. The thought makes him swallow around the lump forming in his throat.

________

“So, did you want me to drop you off or…,” Joel asks when you’re back in the truck, his eyes fixed resolutely on the road.

“Or…?” You reply, voice dragging the word out.

“You could come over,” he suggests. You bite your lip.

“Why Mr. Miller, are you asking me to spend the night?”

His cheeks turn a delicious shade of pink beneath his beard. “Yeah, I am, baby doll.”

Your breath catches at the endearment. “I’d love to come over.”

His hand crosses the center console, gripping your thigh possessively for the rest of the quiet drive back to his house.

_______

Joel pulls up to a cute two story house at the end of a quiet cul de sac about fifteen minutes from your parent’s home. Sarah fell asleep not long after leaving the restaurant, so he carefully gathers her in his arms and hands you the house keys to unlock the front door for him.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he tells you. “I’m just gonna get little miss here in bed.”

“Okay,” you whisper back, watching him disappear upstairs.

You wander through the first floor, into the kitchen with its pretty bay window with a view of a small backyard. You inspect the fridge and the pictures and drawings stuck to it with magnets. There’s a photo of a younger looking Joel with an arm slung around the shoulders of a man you assume is Tommy, based on the resemblance. Another photo with a scared looking Joel holding a blanketed bundle that must be a newborn Sarah.

You reach out to trace a finger over the Joel frozen in time, a version of himself that didn’t know he’d grow out of that fear and be an amazing father.

You nearly jump when hands slip around your hips, fingers bunching the fabric of your dress in their grip. Joel’s beard tickles your neck as he kisses your pulse point and down to your shoulder.

“You have any idea how insane you’ve been drivin’ me all goddamn day?” He asks, voice a rough whisper against your skin. “This dress should be illegal.”

“It’s a perfectly respectable dress!” You argue. His laugh is dangerous, the rumble of it making your thighs clench in want.

“The things I wanna do to you aren’t perfectly respectable, honey.” His hands pull your hips back against his, grinding your ass against the bulge in his jeans.

You reach a hand back to bring his face to yours over your shoulder, kissing him with a desperation that’s been brewing and bubbling for weeks now. One of his strong hands grips a breast tightly, making you moan louder than you meant to.

“Be quiet, baby,” he warns. That hand slides down until he’s reaching the hem of your dress, pulling it up and holding it in front of your mouth. “Bite it. You keep that out of my way, okay?”

You nod, fabric clenched between your teeth as his hand trails down your stomach, fingers finding the damp patch on your panties and pressing it against you.

“Fuck , sweetheart. Been walkin’ around with panties this wet? Pussy so desperate it can’t help but weep, huh?”

Those fingers slip past the elastic and the first touch to your sensitive clit has you trying to squirm out of his tight hold.

“Uh, uh,” Joel admonishes. He cups your entire pussy roughly. “You stay still or I stop. Still and quiet so I can take care of you, alright?”

You sob around the fabric clenched between your teeth and he takes that as agreement.

His fingers slide through your wetness and he groans into your ear, nipping at the lobe as he circles your clit, the delicious roughness of his callouses making you whine.

Joel only dips the tip of one finger into your hole, withdrawing quickly and leaving you clenching on nothing. When you whine again, he takes pity on you, finally plunging one deep inside before dragging it out slowly, curling it against you.

“You’re gonna be the goddamn death of me,” he growls as he adds a second finger, the stretch of it making you moan. “But Christ almighty, what a fuckin’ way to go, huh?”

With his fingers stretching your cunt and his thumb pressing to your clit and his dirty words in your ear, it's no surprise that you’re already standing on the precipice of release.

“Come on, baby, don’t hold back on me, I can feel you gripping my fingers so fuckin’ good.” His hand works faster and you cry out, the fabric of your dress falling from your mouth. It’s swiftly replaced by his hand. “That’s it, good girl.”

Joel pulls his hand from your underwear and you slump against him, boneless and sated. He’s turning you around in his arms, gripping the backs of your thighs and lifting you up, urging your legs around his waist. He takes a few steps and sets you on the counter.

“Baby, I gotta fuck you,” Joel says, his voice tinged with desperation. “Can I fuck you, sweetheart?”

________

Joel holds his breath as he waits for you to respond, watching your blissed out expression. You smile at him, reaching forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into a deep, filthy kiss. Your teeth dig into his bottom lip, pulling it gently with you as you lean back.

“Please fuck me, Joel,” you whisper, spreading your legs. “Been dyin’ to have your cock in me.”

Joel reaches beneath your dress to tear your panties down your legs, letting them drop to the floor. He reaches into his back pocket and hands you the condom he’d stashed. “Open this,” he commands as he undoes the fly of his pants, shoving them down his thighs in a hurry.

You tear open the foil packet with shaky hands, handing the latex over to him to roll down his length. He slides his cock through your wetness, reveling in how your head drops back with a groan of his name.

Joel begins to ease inside, gritting his teeth as he sinks into your warmth. He’d imagined this countless times and yet nothing compares to the real thing. How your body opens up so sweetly, like it was made just for him. How your mouth drops open as you watch him break you apart.

He forces himself to go slowly, to give you time to adjust. You’ve got one hand propping you up on the counter and the other gripping his shoulder so tight he thinks he might bruise.

“I gotta move, sugar, you feel too damn good,” he says through his teeth. “Tell me I can move, baby, please.”

“Yes, yes, move,” you reply.

Joel withdraws slowly before slamming forward, punching a gasp from your lungs. He does it again and again and again, hardly wanting to be disconnected from you for even a moment. He watches your face, committing the flush of your cheeks and the shimmer of unshed tears in your eyes to memory.

“ Joel,” you sob, your hand digging into his hair and pulling him close. You’re not kissing him, too fucked out for that much coordination, but your lips linger against his as the two of you share the same breath.

“That feel good, darlin’?” Joel asks. You nod your head vigorously. “Come on, baby, tell me how good my fuckin’ cock feels.”

“F-feels s-so g-good,” you stutter. “Want more.”

“More? Tell me how to give you more, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

“Touch me, baby, please.”

Joel maintains his relentless pace as he reaches a hand down to draw sloppy circles over your clit. He watches as you bite your lip, a single tear slipping down your cheek in an effort to stay quiet. He leans forward to kiss it away.

It’s not long before you’re tightening around him, your eyebrows pinched as your orgasm looms. His own hips stutter in their rhythm.

“Come on, sweetheart, need to feel you cum all over my cock. Can you do that for me?”

You wrap both arms around his shoulders, keeping yourself pressed tightly to him as you sink your teeth into his shoulder to suppress your shout as you pulse around him. With a growl, Joel follows your lead to ecstasy, spilling inside of you.

His hips slow to a stop, but he keeps himself pressed inside of you, not ready to break the connection. He pulls back only enough to press a slow, languid kiss to your lips.

“That was gorgeous, darlin’,” he says, and he fights a laugh as you blush and squirm beneath him, as if you hadn’t just been begging for and cumming on his cock not five minutes earlier. He slips from your warmth with a groan and you give a little whimper.

He disposes of the used condom, pulling his pants back up but not bothering to button them. He returns to stand between your legs and you drape your arms around his shoulders, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Joel?”

“Yes, baby?”

“What is it with you and kitchens?” You ask. Your face splits with a cheeky grin.

Joel laughs so hard his stomach hurts, your own giggles echoing him. He drags you off the counter, setting you on your feet.

“Come on, let’s get to bed.”

Tags: @huffle-punk @telepathay @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @caatheeriinee07 @leeeesahhh @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller #no use of y/n #ao3 fic #tlou #hbo tlou

557 notes · View notes

raesoreos · 1 year

Text

doll || itoshi rin

rin itoshi x f! reader

content : dark content, doll maker! rin, drugs, yandere! rin, stalking, non-con (recording), masturbation, obsessive behavior, non-con elements, manipulation

AHHH MY FIRST TIME WRITING A FANFIC !! hope yall rin enjoyers like it ;)

minors dni !

———————————————————————

perfect

oh how rin thinks that word perfectly suits you.

the perfect strokes that god has laid upon you when he created you. only he can understand this kind of art.

rin spent most of the time creating the most perfect doll. but he just can’t. he always thought that maybe the perfect woman also has her own flaws?

until he met you

at first he thought he was hallucinating. he’s not. he never saw anything more perfect than his doll. you are just perfect.

the first time he laid his eyes on you is at his usual cafe. you’re a new person who just moved into his hometown.

your flawless features said it all. your delicate hair. your shiny eyes. how can’t he resist you ? the moment he saw you, he wanted you all by himself

you found him interesting. you loved dolls and he is a doll maker. he created dolls just for you. everytime he assembled the dolls in his workshop, it reminds them of you.

a doll. no. his doll

you enjoyed your time being around him. he frequently brought you to his workshop just to show you his doll collections. it was beautiful. it was ethereal.

you took one of the dolls from his rack. the features remind you of yourself. your hair, your (e/c) eyes and everything are the same. it creeped you out for a second but shrugged it off.

having you in his workshop is a dream for rin.

you have weird dreams recently. being tied up to a table and your limbs were disassembled. only to be replaced by newer ones. you heard a man’s whisper in your dreams

“ oh my. my doll. don’t hesitate. i’m trying to patch up things for you “

you woke up. it was a nightmare.

what kind of sin have u commited to the point that you’re having this kind of dream ?

you wondered as you look at the dolls rin gave to you. you put them in front of your bed

little do you know, he saw everything.

you pleasured yourself at night. but you were never alone. he was watching you.

he was turned on by your actions. he grabbed his veiny cock and pumped it while seeing you pleasuring yourself. he whined. you really are a perfect being. your holy pussy. he really wanna pound his cock inside you. he pounded faster and faster. imagining it was inside your hole and he almost reached his limit.

“fuck i-im n-ngh gonna c-cum ah!” rin moaned and cummed. white strings came out from his tip.

you cummed at the same time and your moans were music to his ears. he saw you passed out on your bed.

imagine how amazing it felt if you can do it with him instead

you cannot sleep for the next few days. you don’t want to experience the same dream over and over again.

you don’t want to be tortured in your dreams. your sleeping schedule is important. but you rather choose to burn in hell than having those dreams again

until that one point, you passed out at the cafe with rin. everyone at the cafe looked at you. rin panicked and brought you to his house.

when you and rin arrived at his house, he smirked sinisterly to himself.

he put some of hallucination drugs he bought to make you dreamt about him. he wanted you to make you submit yourself for him.

but it seems you don’t want to lose. but here you are. with the doll master himself.

“ looks like i need to fix my broken doll “ he thought

aaaa literally my first time hope u guys like it 😭

#blue lock smut #blue lock #itoshi rin #itoshi rin smut #rin itoshi #rin itoshi smut #yandere #yandere blue lock #rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk smut #bllk x reader

625 notes · View notes

aclowntiny · 11 months

Note

Hello 👋 I really love your writing like very very much 😊 ❤ 💖 if I can request can I ask for Ateez first "I love you " moment?? Like who said it first and the reaction ?? It's okay if you didn't though , i just want to tell you that you're amazing 🤗

Absolutely you can! Thank you so much love, that literally means the world to me 🥰🥰🥰 making things that people enjoy is my number one goal & hearing this is why I keep going 🥹 (also, I want one of those pearl teddy bears so bad 🥺 where's my man at)

First 'I Love You' With Ateez (Gender Neutral)

Hongjoong

It was date night. Nothing fancy, just a night in, but with a boyfriend like Hongjoong, even that was one of the most beautiful evenings you could imagine.

He squared off one of his building's balconies, draping the whole thing in fairy lights. He gathered an assortment of the most delicious hors d'oeuvres he could find, laid them out like art on a little table for you too, and finished it off with some of your favorite dessert from a little corner bakery you two had been dying to try.

You ate, you talked, just catching up on your days and your goals, Hongjoong’s free hand occasionally traveling across the table to run affectionately over the arm you had rested there. It brought a shy smile to your face each time, which brought a proud one to his in turn.

When your meal was finished and your conversation had lightened, Hongjoong rose from his chair, crossing your little paradise to a speaker, which he turned on to play some music. He made his way back to where you sat, stopping right next to your chair and extending his hand.

“May I have this dance?”

How did you get so lucky? “Of course,” you breathe, placing your hand in his.

He pulls you up, steadying you by the small of your back as his other hand slides out to hold yours. The music is soft, intimate as you sway together and gaze into each other’s eyes. Several songs pass like that, each blending into the other as Hongjoong draws your focus, expertly turning and dipping you, even stealing a kiss on one of them.

Finally, as one song ends, he speaks again. “There’s something I want to tell you.”

“Of course,” you whisper, daring not to break the fairy-lit magic of the night.

“I’m so glad you’re mine,” he says, and that’s when you know the magic will never break, not when you’re here with the man of your dreams, “you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. My hear, my muse. I love you, (y/n).”

Not a thought is needed before you reply that you feel the same, that you truly are his and only his. If you had any doubts, the smile he gives you shatters them completely, replacing them with the same butterflies he’s always made you feel as he pulls you flush against him. You’re barely dancing now, but neither of you care.

“What a beautiful night,” you gush.

Hongjoong turns, a hand tilting your chin towards him as he leans in all the way. “It’s trying to compete with you.”

Seonghwa

What did Seonghwa do to deserve someone like you? Someone who made him tea, sat with him while he built legos and recorded his ASMR, someone who gifted him with the greatest, most natural and unadulterated laughter accidentally recorded into said ASMR mic, someone who sent him the cutest pictures with encouraging words every day just because he was on your beautiful mind. How lucky.

With you, he felt...light. Euphoric. Like he was shown more and more sides of a big heart every day that you took care of him. And darn it if he wasn't going to be the one to take care of you, too.

He claimed the dorm kitchen, shooed any potential intruders out. Googled all your favorite things, made sure he wasn't missing a single bit of it. Called you and told you to be over for a surprise, that he couldn't wait to see you.

And tell you how much I love you, he wanted to say, but that was to come later. For now, he had work to do.

You arrived just as he finished, making the way toward the kitchen with widening eyes, first at the smell, then at the sight of Seonghwa laying out your favorite meal at the table, which was centered by a vase of your favorite flowers. With an exclamation of endearment you shuffled across the kitchen, jumping into his arms for a big hug.

"I know today was a long day," he told you, "so I wanted to surprise you. Make sure you didn't have to lift a finger for dinner after it all."

"Seonghwa, this is amazing," you breathed, making him smile with the way your body visibly relaxed, "I- I-"

"I love you," both of you said at the same time.

You felt your eyes widen, saw Seonghwa's do the same. Your hands shot up to your face in surprise, fell to reveal the big, gorgeous smile he loved being the cause of. Reaching out his arms once more, he pulled you into his chest, holding you gently there against his beating heart.

"Thank you."

"You're the one who did all this, I should be thanking you," you protested, though you made no effort to leave his embrace.

You feel his head shake on top of yours, the motion ruffling your hair a bit. "No, thank you," he insists, "you've just given me a much better gift. Now, what say we enjoy some dinner, hm?"

Yunho

Yunho knows he loves you when even a text from you changes the trajectory of his day. He knows he loves you by the way you know him so well, remembering every little thing about him. He knows he loves you by the way your smile is the first and last thing he wishes he could see every day.

He knows he loves you, now all that's left is to tell you. He asks you out to a nice dinner, and beyond your pleasant surprise at the proposed fancy outing, you don't seem to catch on to anything special. Yunho's just glad you can't feel how rapidly his heart is beating, even though he knows it's all anticipation. After all, once the decision came to his head, it was as natural as breathing, one of the easiest he's made- it feels right.

You walk into the restaurant dressed to the nines and the sight takes his breath away. It seems to show, and he's glad, because as his eyes land on you you give him the biggest smile, fondness and gratitude already present in your eyes. Yunho wants those things to always stay there when you look at him.

When he tells you he already ordered your favorite appetizer, you clap adorably. When he presents you with the bouquet and the pearl teddy bear, you light up even more, shining brighter than the crystal chandeliers adorning the ceiling.

"Yunho, this is all so wonderful- what is it for?" You finally ask.

He was going to wait until after dessert, maybe even until your goodnight kiss, but he's swimming in the highlights of your eyes and the opulent walls of the restaurant have faded out completely and he can't help himself. The moment is right.

"Because I love you," he replies simply, "no other reason than that."

You take his breath away again, this time by launching yourself half out of your seat and into his arms, crushing him in a hug he's happy to reciprocate. You're both warm, you're both giggling, and your scents are pleasantly mingled as you speak again.

"I love you, too."

Yeosang

Yeosang wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he was sure why he was doing it. Shifting the box in his hands, he reached one up to ring your doorbell.

Your eyes widened at the sight of him standing at your door, but your lips immediately curled into a smile that went straight to Yeosang’s heart. If he had needed any more encouragement, he’d just gotten it. “Surprise!” He exclaimed sheepishly.

Your eyes travelled from his down to the white box he was holding. “What’s this?”

“It’s a surprise,” he teased, “you have to let me in to find out~”

“Oh, right,” you chuckled, stepping out of the way, “I’m sorry. Please, come in, go set it down! I hope it wasn’t heavy.”

Even if it had been, it would have been well worth it. Your adorable look of surprise, the way your home smelled just like you- even if that was weird to say, it was true and Yeosang loved it. Resting the box on your table, he swiveled to face you, to reach for your hands at your sides.

“I wanted to share this with you,” he told you, nodding at the box when you gave him a confused slight frown.

“Alright,” you nodded back, eyes not leaving his, “what is it?”

Fumbling toward the table, his hands found the top of the box. “I hope you love it!” With a proud smile, he unveiled the most beautiful cake you’d ever seen. Pink and white ombré frosting was piped along the top and bottom and dotted with heart-shaped sprinkle. Edible glitter dusted the white top, which had gorgeous calligraphy swirled on top. I love you, the words read.

Your hands just shot up in surprise. “Yeosang, I… this is beautiful. It’s really for me?”

“Well, as long as I get a piece too,” he replied, giggling as he pulled you in closer by your hands, feeling his heartbeat pick up the longer you went without addressing the words, “what do you think?”

You finally peeled your eyes off the cake, and when they fell on him it gave him all the answer he needed, the dull thud within him crescendoing into a soar. Your gaze darted between the loving stare he’s giving you and a bit lower, sliding along his profile eagerly.

“Well, I didn’t prepare a cake, but hopefully this’ll do as an ‘I love you’,” you answered, one of your hands leaving his to find the small of his back, bringing him as close as you could get him as passionately kissed him.

He giggled again when you separated, one of his hands gently playing with your hair.

“You’re sweet,” you whisper, doe-eyed at Yeosang’s affection.

He leans in to press his lips to your cheek. “Speaking of sweet…”

“Yes, we can cut the cake now.”

San

Complete and utterly lost in you- that's the only way to describe how San feels. There are city lights and a gorgeous breeze and the smell of the sea all on different horizons of his little orbit, but they're barely perceptible in the face of your laugh, those eyes that San doesn't know what he did to earn such looks from. All he knows is that he wants to do it again and again in this life and the next.

You're warm at his side, an arm tucked in his as you stroll along the beach, another successful date in the books. You're telling him everything you love about the sea, how powerful it feels to you, how close to the very forces of nature themselves, and all San can think of is how you're describing is how his heart feels in the presence of yours. He can't keep this to himself.

"I know that feeling," he says.

You smile and his heart bursts all over again, his arm tightening just so around yours. Just enough to pull you a little closer.

"Right? The ocean is such a magnificent creation, it's just-"

"No," he shakes his head, "it's something far more beautiful."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Oh? What's that?"

"You. You're far more magnificent than the sea could ever hope to be, and my heart feels just as drawn to the waves of yours."

Your free hand rises to your chest. "Wow. Is that from a book?"

He shakes his head again. "Just from me to you. Too much?"

"Oh, uh, no," you stutter, an adorable, just-barely-visible in the night's dim light flush dusting your cheeks, "I just wasn't expecting you to get so poetic."

"Neither was I," San laughs, reaching up to pinch your warming cheek, "but being in love makes us do funny things."

"It sure does," you agree, "like this."

Your free hand rises again, this time to smooth his hand over your cheek, holding it there as you kiss him. San releases his grip on your arm to pull you in closer by the waist, wasting no time in returning the passionate seaside kiss.

"No, seriously," he tells you as you pull apart, forehead resting on his, "I really love you."

Your gaze falters a little, but you smile wider and echo his sentiments as his hand finds yours, pressing them in their joined state over his heart.

Mingi

"Don't you want to finish the movie?"

Your whispered words tickle Mingi's cheek and the side of his neck as you lean down to his horizontal form. You two have a love seat to yourselves as Ateez hold their movie night, the film about halfway through now. Mingi, though, has just laid down, his head having drooped against you a few times before he stopped fighting it.

"Mm-mm," he shakes his head against the love seat cushions, snaking his arms against your waist to pull you closer into him, "you're comfortable. Better than the movie."

Having already been half laying down, you surrender, dropping completely to your side to assume the position as Mingi's little spoon. As soon as you've done that, though, he turns you around in his arms to face him, nestling his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder. Warmth rises to your cheeks at the feeling of his breath, leading you to exhale in a little chuckle as you reach around to hold Mingi, too.

"Well, good night, then," you tease, tilting your head to close your very tiny gap with a peck on his lips.

"Good night. I love you."

You briefly stiffen in his hold, leaning back to see if he's fallen asleep already, just saying whatever in his stupor. The moment you scan him, though, his eyes open wide, one falling shut in a wink. Suppressing a giddy laugh, you just smile, settling back down and snuggling even closer to him.

"I love you, too, Mingi."

Wooyoung

The stars hang high in the sky and everyone is fading fast save for Wooyoung and you, his other half. His better half, if you ask the rest of Ateez. The one who manages to simultaneously pump him up and calm him down.

Except right now, there's no calming him down-it's the last song of the night, but despite its many predecessors, your boyfriend is as hyped as if he'd just picked up the microphone. Grinning, you glance at the screen, expecting a party song, so surprise flits across your face when you see Wooyoung choose a song from a musical. He points at you with a wide smile, beginning an ostentatious, goofy comedic love song that has the other seven guys cringing and groaning.

You for your part just pick up a microphone and give it right back to your boyfriend, matching every sweep of his arm, finger heart, and ridiculous miming gesture as if you two had coordinated. He turns it into a skit, your singing melting into a very corny sung conversation that has your audience shaking their heads in amused exasperation. Only those two, you see their mouths saying, and that gives you a rush of joy. They may be embarrassed, but to you, it shows you that there's something special about you and Wooyoung.

He feels it too, clearly, as he grabs you and dips you the moment you finish your thought, sending a chorus of cheers soaring over you two.

"That was so much fun," he leans down toward you.

"It was," you agree with a big smile, gazing into his eyes.

"We play so well together," he continues, leaning even further.

"We do," you all but sigh, anticipation fluttering in your eyelashes.

"I love you." Your noses are almost touching now.

A fiery wave of joy crashes over you and you can't help yourself any longer, your hand finding the back of his head to tangle in his black locks and pull him all the way into you. Even more tired exasperation and mock-disgust sounds off around you, but beneath the dim purple light of the room and the dreamy red haze cresting your heart, you can't care less. They get a show.

"I love you, too," you whisper as your lips separate, Wooyoung's hand on your back gently raising you to your feet, where he wraps both arms around you.

Jongho

"Thank you for agreeing to this," Jongho says, turning to face you, to get a look into your eyes.

"Agree to this?" You snort. "You make it sound like some sort of procedure, not a date."

A smile rises to his lips. Alright, he'll give you that one. It did sound a little funny. "Well, not everyone enjoys going on hikes."

"With you, someone could sit us down and read us the phone book and I'd still have a good time."

Jesting as they are, something about your words strikes a cord deep within Jongho's fluttering chest. They're playful, but they boil down to a very specific essence what your presence is to him: comforting, the highlight of his day, easy, the joy of being in his element no matter what the situation, what went wrong, simply because it was you.

Should he say something?

"Well, come on!" Before he can, your fingers are intertwining with his, pulling him forward along the trail. Laughing, he picks up the pace behind you, stopping just as suddenly when you reach the trail sign and take a selfie with him.

Life with you is an adventure. Ugh, that sounds corny, Jongho thinks, but it's so true and he has to admit he loves it. No, not it. You. He loves you.

The hike is quiet, peaceful for the most part. Every now and again, one of you will point out a butterfly or a bent tree, stop to take a picture, crack a joke. No pretense, just the bracing air, the sunshine, and your hand in his. Jongho's heart is beating a little faster, but you aren't on a strenuous enough trail for him to play that off as exertion.

Soon enough, you reach the top, the trail bottoming out into a meadow of waving grasses dotted with adorable little wildflowers. Jongho stops to take it all in, but you run headfirst in, frolicking like a deer set free, and he can't help but smile and give a fond shake of his head as he follows you. When he reaches you, you've picked a mini bouquet of the tiny pink and yellow flowers, holding it so gingerly, clearly having the time of your life if your expression of pure joy is anything to go off of. Once again, it's like cupid's arrow is shooting straight into his heart.

"Isn't it cute? ...Jongho?"

He'd been staring off into space. Heck, he still is. You're not used to the dreamy look in his eyes, and it still feels new to him, but it takes him over anyway. "I love you."

Your jaw drops. "What?"

He blinks, snaps out of his love-drunk state a little, but all that does is return the words to his chest with a new fire. "I love you," he says, this time more loudly, firmly. Proudly.

You giggle, clutching your flowers a little tighter, still a bit giddy yourself. "And somewhere so beautiful, too?" Your eyes are shining more than ever, full of more love than Jongho had ever seen them shoot his was. "I love you, too. So much!"

The moment you turn around, he's ready to catch you, pulling you up from your hug until your feet lift off the ground and you give a little squeak of surprise. It's all a little corny, a little sappy, and yet as your foreheads, and then your lips, meet, all Jongho can think is how perfect it all is, how all he wants is to feel you in his arms.

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #gender neutral reader #fluff #requested #hope you love it sweetie 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻#I'M amazing??? UNO REVERSE CARD NO YOU

305 notes · View notes

gavisuntiedboot · 1 year

Text

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 1

Tinder is not a great place to look for boyfriends, but neither is the workplace.

Gavi x Physiotherapist! reader. Slow burn. I can't make things fast he's gotta work for it. Smut? Not in this part but maybe eventually.

A/N: Hi everyone! Not super new on Tumblr but I have never been brave enough to post a fic despite my constant maladaptive daydreaming about imaginary scenarios. The stress of being sick and not wanting to write my personal statement have lead me to actually write this and post it online. Please be nice, hope you enjoy!

Song inspo: Just Pretend - Bad omens

Writing inspo: Plot inspired by @zeegaazeegaah and their amazing Gavi x physiotherapist imagine. Other inspirational accounts will be tagged at the end.

TW: None

Word count: 4.8K

"So what do you do?"

y/n hated this question. Even being asked for nudes might be preferable to being asked about her job. y/n had been on 12 first dates since moving back to Barcelona, and without fail every one of them had been ruined by this simple question. She considered lying - she could pass as a student or a waitress or even a model (ok maybe not a model): there were literally thousands of jobs she could pretend to have. But, being the idiot hopeless romantic that she was, she decided to be honest with the man across from her. What if Thiago from Tinder was her soulmate? She didn't want to ruin it by lying.

"I'm finishing my sports medicine and physiotherapy certification, so I am working with one of the football clubs here to do practical training and gain experience."

"Oh that's cool! Which club? You can tell me, I know most of the 3rd and 4th tier Catalan clubs, so I'll probably know it even if it's really small."

Wow. Thiago from Tinder was an overachiever: he messed up before she even said which club she worked for, which was faster than every other man she had been out with in the last four months. y/n took a deep breath and resisted the urge to leave before confessing where she worked.

"I actually work at a pretty well known club... F.C Barca. I think you might of heard of it?" y/n watched this man's jaw visibly drop. His eyes got wide and lit up, like someone had told him he had just won a brand new car.

"You're a physio at Barca?? No way! That's my team! I think I would actually commit manslaughter if Pedri asked me to. So you get to see all the players every day? And Xavi! Have you ever spoken to Xavi? Do you know he won Spain their first world cup? You might be too young to remember. That's so amazing!"

y/n felt all the muscles in her head tense as she focused all her energy on not rolling her eyes. A fanboy. Typical. This was the most common response she got when she said her place of work out loud. 6 of the last 12 first dates had been major fanboys for the club, talking endlessly about how they would steal and kill and get on their knees for Barca. One had even been so bold as to ask if she had ever seen Lewandosky naked, to confirm if some measurements he had seen online were true. While the fans were annoying, the haters were even worse. 4 different dates had said they felt bad that she worked at a "dying club", throwing up football statistics, and going red in the face when she said she could not possibly care less about who had more Champion's League wins.

Then there were those that went out of their way to offend her. You would think that a man trying to get laid would have some more common sense. But that didn't stop one of her tinder matches from calling her a liar in the middle of a restaurant. He was still on his first glass of wine, leaning back cockily in his chair when he said that La Liga would never allow female physios to work with the first team because women couldn't "handle the intensity of football injuries." She should have gotten up and left when he said that, but he was 6'3 with a brand new Porsche, so she let him buy her dinner and drive her home before telling him that she genuinely hoped he never interacted with a female doctor ever again, even if it was to save his life.

The worst had been when she went out with Jose. He had invited her to a pretty expensive spot in central Barcelona. They were having an amazing conversation until the fated job question. She had downed a good amount of wine at that point, and wasn't as cynical about the reaction as she usually would be, so she spoke about her role with pride. Big mistake. He perked up, then threw his head back and laughed. He laughed so loudly it startled the waiter clearing plates from the nearby table. "21 years old and working as a physio for F.C Barca... Who did you have to sleep with to get that job, hm? Xavi? La Porte himself? Or maybe someone at the university? Regardless, you must fuck like a pornstar to have landed a job like that. Can't wait to try it first hand." y/n said some choice words about Jose and his micropenis, and promptly left, seeking to avoid assault charges that night.

The truth was that y/n was extremely talented at what she did. She grew up watching football with her father and brother, developing an interest in working in sports professionally. She worked herself half to death during high school to be accepted into a sports science program in the U.S. She interned with the college teams there, learning about sports injuries and treating them. She finished her program in three years, and despite programs across Europe fighting for her, she came back to Barcelona to finish her physiotherapy certification. She would be lying if she said it was just for her family and friends. The program in Barcelona advertised opportunities to work with F.C. Barca, her favorite football club since birth. It was a love she inherited from her father, as shown by all her childhood pictures in the Blaugrana uniform.

The program was harder than expected. She was one of 7 female first year students, and the only girl in her year that wanted to work with the first team. y/n was made aware that this might work to her advantage now that professional football was pushing for more female representation (in referees, coaching staff, and now on the medical team). The guys in her class either hated her guts or wanted to sleep with her (sometimes both) - it really was like legally blonde without the law.

In the middle of August, close to the beginning of the new season, all the applicants for the Barca placement were called into the university on a Sunday. Their professor introduced Dr. Gonzales, the head physiotherapist for the club. y/n started to sweat despite the air conditioning hitting her directly. She was terrified to even breathe wrong in the presence of this man.

"It's a pleasure to be here with you all today. Thank you for your hard work in submitting to fill the assistant physiotherapist position at F.C. Barcelona. Now, there have been rumors that we are hiring a student to fil this position because it is cheaper and we are broke, but I would like to assure you all now that it's not true."

The two boys in front of her snickered quietly, one whispering a "yeah right" to the other. Dr. Gonzalez looked up at the boys. "You two giggling in the back. You don't seem like the type we need at Camp Nou. You can leave now." Everyone in the room sat up straighter after that. Everyone was on military behavior, not wanting a wrong look or a chair squeak to blow their chance. "As many of you know, one of our strikers, Ousmane Dembélé, presents with consistent right hamstring tightness, leading to frequent injuries."

As Dr. Gonzalez turned to face the screen, y/n found enough bravery to pull out a pen and paper to take notes. The doctor continued to describe the player's condition, his playing style, and the current course of treatment being used. After speaking for 25 minutes (while facing the screen instead of the students), he turned around and addressed them. "Your project is to develop a continuous muscular therapy treatment for Dembélé in the next two days. The best and most cost effective method gets the job placement. You at the back," he pointed at y/n, "Smart choice to take notes. I advise you not to share."

Y/n drove home that evening checking her rear-view mirror every few seconds. The possibility of being followed by one of her classmates so they could steal her notes was low, but never zero, and so she did both of the locks tightly on the door. She sat at her computer and got to work right away. Truth be told, she felt like the whole assignment was kind of a trick. Dr. Gonzalez had told them the current treatment plan for Dembélé, which had obviously been working seeing as they kept using it. She made a few adjustments based on leg dominance and the anticipated excess strain of playing more minutes each game, and then she decided to facetime her friend Angelika while she made the PowerPoint look pretty.

"Good evening Dr. y/l/n, finally ready to ask for my hand in marriage? My parents always wanted me to marry into medicine." y/n rolled her eyes and smirked. She had met Angelika when she was living in the US through a Facebook group for Spanish students studying abroad. Ever since then, not a day had gone by where they hadn't spoken (except once when Angelika had dropped her phone into a pint of beer and couldn't get it fixed for three days).

"You know I'm ready when you are gorgeous, just send your ring size. What're you up to?"

"Nothing much, just scrolling on the internet trying to find clubs that are no cover for ladies tomorrow. You're still coming out with us right?" y/n looked away from her computer and looked at Angelika with the "I'm about to bail on plans look" that was all too familiar. "Y/n!! You cannot be cancelling plans with us again! You haven't been anywhere except your house and the university in like six weeks! People will start to think you're with child and in hiding."

"I didn't know I was the new virgin Mary." y/n quipped, trying to make her presentation equally professional and cute. "You're not, because that would require you being a virgin. I know it feels like it's growing back because you haven't looked in the direction of a man in centuries." y/n could only shake her head. It was not a lack of trying. "Well, I'm presenting to the Barca head physio Wednesday morning, so if you ever want a chance at seeing the inside of that locker room, you need to let me skip out on tomorrow."

Angelika sighed and threw herself on the bed dramatically. "Fine, but you need to be our DD and come pick us up after. Shockingly, it's really hard to order an Uber while drunk." y/n agreed to pick the girls up from the club at the end of the night, an spent the rest of the evening chatting idlily with her friend, living vicariously through the stories she told.

The following day, y/n spent all morning refining her presentation. She spent over an hour watching videos about the Barca training facility to see if there was any equipment she had overlooked in creating her treatment plan. The day progressed as normal - cleaning, cooking, practicing her presentation, watching TV on the couch. As 1am rolled around, she still hadn't received any communication from Angelika. While she was not an inconsiderate person, Angelika did have her moments where she would completely forget about the world around her: that was when she met a man who showed interest in her. Despite being gorgeous and intelligent, Angelika, like most girls in their early twenties, suffered from a condition known as "Nothing is true about me unless an attractive man says it". y/n also suffered (mildly) from this affliction, but being surrounded by weirdos all day in university had helped substantially. She knew that if she did not leave then, she would never get any sleep, and so she grabbed her car keys and headed to the address of the club that she had been sent earlier on.

She parked several blocks away from the club, and called Angelika for a record 41st time. y/n knew she wasn't going to receive an answer, so she changed into a tight satin top and a pair of heels that she always left in her car in case of emergencies (What if Joao Felix decided to take a random trip to Barcelona and she was unprepared?). She could feel the street practically vibrating beneath her as she walked towards the club. She was let in easily - it was a Tuesday night and the establishment needed female patrons. She kept close to the bar, and asked the girls working there if they had seen her friend. Once y/n pulled up a picture of Angelika, the girls laughed to one another.

"Oh yeah, she's up in the VIP section. They've dropped like 6k on bottle service already."

y/n felt the vein in her forehead start to pop out. Of course Angelika had found herself a man that would take her to the part of the club that was the hardest to get into. Especially on the night when y/n really needed to get home. Because why wouldn't that happen? She made her way over to the VIP section, where she was promptly stopped by two large bouncers, who obviously didn't believe that she just wanted to grab her friend. While standing there deciding whether she should just make Angelika order an Uber (or have this new lover order one for her), she was tapped on the shoulder. She turned around and was met by a very attractive man (boy? His age was hard to determine in the dark).

"Hey, do you need to get into VIP? Are you here alone? " "That's a really creepy question to ask a girl in a club." y/n yelled back over the thumping music. What were all these people doing out on a Tuesday? "No not like that. I can help you get in if you want." "I don't really want to get in, I just want to get my friend and leave." The man (boy?)'s eyes lit up. "Perfect! My tea- friend. My friend that I'm with is pretty drunk and the person that drove us is in VIP. I can't leave him by himself because he's kind of rowdy even when sober. Could you watch him while I go grab them?"

y/n didn't want to look too deeply into a good thing, but the offer felt suspicious. She scanned the boy (she had decided that he was young), looking for any indication that he could live up to his end of the bargain. She looked down at his feet, noticing the white Alexander McQueen sneakers. She decided that she could trust him, and if not, she was still in a public place, and someone would notice if she was being dragged out of a club kicking and screaming. She walked over to where the friend was and had to stifle a laugh. Another boy was sprawled across two high bar chairs, legs up and head rolled back. He was wearing a pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses despite it being the middle of the night and them being indoors. His white button up had the first two undone and the collar popped, like he was Pitbull in 2011. He was in a pair skinny jeans (because, as y/n discovered quickly, everyone in the world had moved on from skinny jeans except for Spanish men) and some white Dolce and Gabanna sneakers. Where were these kids getting all this money?

"Pablo! Look who I brought you! This is..." The first boy looked back at you expectantly. "y/n". "y/n! She's really great and going to take care of you while I go get Pepi so we can go home." The drunk one (now Identified as Pablo) lifted his head, and tilted the sunglasses just enough to get a good look at the girl. "Wow Angel, nice job." The first one (Angel apparently) apologized to y/n, explaining that Pablo was a "really flirty drunk" but that he was never like this sober. y/n showed Angel a picture of Angelika, and off he went back into the beast that was the club. y/n stood awkwardly by Pablo, who appeared to have fallen asleep. Suddenly, he sprung up and asked her, "so what is a pretty girl like you doing in the club by herself?"

"I'm not here to go clubbing, just picking up a friend." "You're dressed like you're going clubbing." "Right, because they wouldn't let me into the club in my scrubs." "Scrubs? You look too young to be a doctor." The music was starting to take a toll on y/n, the thumping rhythm giving her a splitting headache. "You don't look old enough to be let into the club, but everyone is full of surprises." Pablo did not take this comment well. He stood up, feeling all the blood rush to his head as he rested his weight against the bar. He pushed his glasses up his head, and looked straight at her.

This was the first opportunity y/n had to admire how gorgeous Pablo was. The glasses pushed his hair back on his head, showing off his striking eyebrows and cheekbones. His eyes were wide and glassy, making him look like a teenager who had gotten drunk for the first time. For all y/n knew, that could be the case. His nose slopped downward, a subtle bump in the bridge like it had been broken before and reset. His discontent made his bottom lip poke out, and y/n suddenly was overwhelmed by the urge to treat him like a child: make him feel better with a kiss. "I'm 18, and this isn't even my first time in a club. You want to see my ID?" Pablo had gotten much closer to her than she had expected. In her 4 inch heels, y/n was looking him straight in the eyes. He was mere inches away from her face, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the anger of being called a child. She couldn't stop her gaze from flipping between his eyes to his pouting lips. 'This is normal,' she thought to herself. 'I'm overwhelmed because no man has been this close to me in a while. Even if my scumbag cheating ex was standing this close I would want to kiss him. I am simply in desperate need of affection.'

This internal monologue ended just as another club patron bumped into Pablo, causing him to lose balance. He put his arms around y/n and rested weight against her, head pressed into her shoulder. "I feel like dying. I shouldn't have drank that much." He muttered. She just held him there, scared that he would hit the floor if she shifted. "Then why did you keep drinking?" She asked. It couldn't hurt - in the state he was in, she would be surprised if he even remembered his name in the morning. "So my brain would be a little quieter." y/n's heart ached at the statement. However old the boy in her arms was, he was being burdened by something far beyond his age.

Before she could ask anything else, she was tapped on the shoulder by Angel, who signaled for her to follow out of the club. She put one of Pablo's arms around her neck and began shuffling through the crowd. Once they left the club, Pablo quickly separated from her to throw up on the side of the street. "At least he waited until he was off of you to do that," a male voice echoed from behind her. y/n turned around to see Angelika clinging to a tall brunet. "Thank you so much for carrying her out. I think I can take it from here." y/n said, trying to get Angelika to remove herself from the nice man. "It's ok, I can walk her to your car. It might be easier than you carrying her." y/n smiled apologetically, and turned around to the sound of Pablo continuing to wretch his guts out. She ran over to make sure he wasn't puking blood and didn't need medical attention. "Come on Pablo let's go." Angel said from the curb. "No no, don't rush him. Let him get it all out before he gets into my car. Otherwise he'll have to start taking the city bus to matches." y/n looked up at the new voice. He walked up and stood by Angel, glancing at his phone before looking up at his friend and the girl making sure he didn't die. "Thanks for looking after him. I hope he wasn't too bad, he's a tag aggressive." y/n stood there speechless. The man thanking her for taking care of his drunk friend was none other than Pedri Gonzalez, one of the young stars of F.C. Barca. He was an absolute magician with the ball, and quickly becoming a favorite in y/n's household. She wanted to let out a scream: jump up and down and tell him that she was a huge fan and ask for a picture. But she had her presentation tomorrow. The last thing she needed was to make a bad impression on the player by causing a scene. So she took a deep breath and insisted that it was no problem.

Pablo had finished puking out his guts by that point and stood up straight, gripping his head from the dizziness. "Alright hermano, time to go." Pedri said, turning his back to y/n, Angelika, and the main carrying her. "Wait." Pablo said rummaging through his pocket. He pulled out his wallet, and clumsily pulled a card from it. He turned to y/n and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her close to him. There were shouts from his friends to stop whatever he was doing, but nothing was registering in his liquor-filled brain. "y/n think's I'm a little kid, so I just wanted to show her my ID." y/n shifted her gaze from his deep eyes to the card in his hand. She didn't look at the age. She didn't have to. Her eyes landed on the name: Pablo Martín Páez Gavira. One of the best young football players in the world had just used her as a banister. "Now that you know I'm not a kid, next time, you should let me buy you a drink." Pablo said, pushing a strand of hair from y/n's face before walking (wobbling) back to his friends.

y/n could not process everything going on in her head at that moment. She turned around and faced the man holding a half-asleep Angelika. "You don't play for Barca do you?" She asked, half joking and half fearful. "No. I play for Real Sociedad. I'm Martin." "Zubimendi??" "Yeah." This was too much. y/n, 7 hours before the most important presentation of her life, was surrounded by so much football royalty it made her dizzy. Martin looked like he was going to say something else, but y/n put her finger to her lips and shushed him. "Please, not another word. Just bring her to the car."

They walked silently to y/n's tiny car, Martin helping to carefully place Angelika in the back seat. "So are you the guy she was with while ignoring my calls?" "Oh no, that was my teammate Ander. He was also kind of out of it so I offered to help her out." "Why is everyone getting drunk out of their minds on a random Tuesday in August?" y/n said in frustration, causing a laugh to erupt from Martin. "It's the last week before training for the new season starts. Not a lot of opportunities to black out after this. People like to take advantage." y/n thanked Martin and got into the driver's seat. He stopped her before she drove off. "Do you think I could maybe get your number? Just to make sure you get home safe?" y/n rolled her eyes at the lame excuse for a pick-up tactic, but surrendered her phone number anyway. She drove back to her apartment with her head reeling, as she tried to rehearse her speech in her head instead of thinking of the events of the night.

The next day, y/n looked perfect. She had work her best school-approved scrubs and coat. and slicked her hair back to make her look more professional. She was in her business attire Nikes. Her note cards were neatly written and organized. She sat in the lecture hall waiting to be called on. The students would be presenting in random order. As all the student filled in to present, the tension was palpable. Everyone side-eyed each other, trying to intimidate the "competition". The door swung open and in walked the professor, as well as Dr. Gonzalez. He stood at the front podium, stern as ever, and began to speak.

"Good morning students. Thank you all for the effort you have put into the presentations you will share today. We look forward to all you assessments and insights. As the new season quickly approaches, we want the new assistant to become acclimated to the workplace quickly. Therefore, the decision about the position will be made today following the presentation." The entire room stopped breathing. "In order to do so efficiently, please welcome our other guests and evaluators, Mr. Xavi Hernandez and Mr. Ousmane Dembélé." The pair walked in, and the room engaged in the most "I wish I was dead" sounding clapping known to man. y/n started sweating profusely. If she had known that Xavi and Dembélé were going to be watching her presentation, she would have made Angelika take the Uber. Hell, she would have made her ride a Donkey back home and gotten a full night's sleep.

Dr. Gonzalez drew names for the order, and because y/n has the worst luck, she was presenting last. She did what she does best: panicked immediately. She tried to think of ways to present the information differently than the 6 students before her had. As she listened to the presentations, the more nervous she got. None of the other students had treatment plans remotely similar to hers. Antonio, one of the smartest in their batch and the presenter right before her, even suggested he get surgery.

It was time. y/n stood up at the front of the room and pulled out her slides. "Good morning everyone. Today I will be presenting my comprehensive treatment plan for player Ousmane Dembélé's right hamstring." She got through the whole thing without stuttering or having her knees give out. As she finished her last slide, she let out a sigh of relief. The hard part was over. She asked if their were questions and Xavi's hand went up. "So Miss y/n, the treatment plan presented is very similar to the one we have currently implemented, with a couple changes in training and every day life. What is the anticipated recovery time for this treatment?" Everyone else in the class had said 8-12 months. But no - of course y/n had to be differently. "6 weeks sir." "6 weeks? No one else has given a suggestion that would take less than half a year." "Yes sir, however, if you take into account the availability of daily therapy, cryotherapy, and the current play style and strain distribution, he can be on the field in 6 weeks. He might not be comfortable playing all 90 minutes each game, but that's not the same as being completely out for injury." Xavi nodded and said nothing more. That was the end of the questioning.

It took them 8 minutes exactly to decide who go the job. Dr. Gonzalez, Xavi, and Dembélé came back into the room, thanking everyone again for their hard work. "We are please to announce," Xavi started, "that we will be offering the assistant physiotherapist position for the 2022/2023 season to," he turned to Dembélé, who finished the thought, "Miss y/n y/l/n." All the men in the room turned to face y/n at once as she struggled to breathe from the shock. "We look forward to having you this season."

And that's how it happened. y/n was now the assistant physiotherapist for the first team at F.C. Barcelona during the day, and entertainment for the absolute worst men in Spain in the evenings. She left her disappointing first date with a headache and leftovers, and drove home listening to her "Maybe Love is a Social Construct" playlist. As she walked into her apartment, her phone chimed with a text notification. She let her hair down and grabbed her phone, preparing to update Angelika about the latest in the tragedy that was her love life. Instead, she had two separate text notifications.

[Unknown number]: Hey, is this still y/n's number?

[Gavi]: I need to see you urgently. Tomorrow morning 6:30 am. I'll be waiting outside your office.

To be continued...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you got this far, thanks for reading! I have had this idea for a long time and have been writing snippets of it down. I will continue to update whenever I can, as this really is a passion project for me (so it's ok if no one reads it).

GIF credit to @gavidaily

Huge thanks to the following for heavily inspiring me to start writing this on the internet: @missgavi @kyiiansmbappe @julianalvarez9 @milawritesstuff @leeamorgan (there are a couple others I'm forgetting)

#pablo gavi x reader #gavi x reader #pablo gavi #gavi #fc barca #footballer #imagine #barca #gavi x you #footballer imagine

729 notes · View notes

tbyfandoms · 8 months

Text

Flowers | Austin Butler x Reader

Pairing: austin butler x f!reader

Word Count: 3k

Summary: after making a quick run to the store, austin comes home with a surprise for his favorite girl in the world (requested)

Warnings: none

Masterlist/Request Form | Ask/Tell/Request

A/N: I swear it takes the bare minimum for me to go off in delulu land and create a whole scenario of some cute domestic ish about one of my faves lmao! thank you to the anon who requested I write this, you truly fed into my fantasies and I appreciate the excitement. I know it’s been a while since I’ve uploaded a fic so I figured I’d finally try to sit down and write something quick and get it out for the last day of austin’s birth month! I hope you guys enjoy sentimental aus and the dash of horndoginess I threw in there. after finding out about a certain *ehem* tidbit, I saw an opportunity to include the fact austin is an ass man-ANYWAYS! as always lmk what you think! <3

also important side-note! for right now I think I am going to hold off on accepting any new requests for a while. I have quite a few backed up in my ask box that I really wanna get out for the people who sent them in and are patiently waiting! I can’t stop ya’ll from sending things in, but please know that at the moment the requests I have on my currently writing page are my current priorities and it might be a while until I get to yours!

“God, there’s literally nothing on,” you grumble after skipping past yet another movie preview on Netflix.

It’s both yours and Austin’s first off day together in such a long time and all you want to do is cuddle and watch a good film, but it’s like nothing is catching your attention, and at this point you kinda just want to rewatch a comfort film and call it a day. You doubt Austin will put up much of a fight.

The blonde did leave you in charge of finding something to watch while he went off to gather snacks, so he can’t complain too much if you two end up watching a movie you’ve both seen a hundred times, right?

While an idea starts to form in your mind and you quickly scroll to the search bar, soft footsteps from the kitchen make their way to you.

“Baby, I’m headin’ out the store really quick, I just need to pick up a few things before we get started. D’you need anything?”

Your boyfriend’s voice immediately takes your attention away from the black and red screen you’ve been staring at for the past ten minutes. Needless to say the interruption and new view is much appreciated. You swear to yourself that Austin could walk out of a place wearing just a trash bag and he’d still be the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

He looks so soft and cuddly in his cotton shirt and track pants that it makes you sad at the idea you’ll have to wait even longer now to wrap yourself in his arms.

“Did we eat all the snacks again already? I swear neither one of us is home enough to go through food that quickly and yet somehow we always do,” you say as you shake your head lightly.

Austin’s soft chuckle drifts through the air. “It blows my mind too, sweetheart.” The actor moves closer to the front door and begins to put his shoes on��grey and black Adidas with the white stripes, his latest favorites. “I mean we have stuff but I wanna get you some of those candies you like to have when we go to the movies, I figured we could really make it our own little film experience, y’know?”

You scrunch your nose in fondness at the sentiment and get up off the couch to meet your boyfriend at the door. He grabs one of his many baseball caps and settles it atop his blonde waves. You notice how thick Austin’s hair is getting, the hat sliding snuggly over his head.

“Awh, Aus, I’d love that, that sounds amazing,” you grin, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Now, tell me, how would you feel about me picking a certain favorite Gosling film for our movie?”

You grin cheekily at Austin, seeing the flicker of realization in his eyes as he understands exactly which film you’re referencing. Between the two of you, there really is no other Ryan Gosling film it could be besides—you guessed it—The Notebook.

“You’re really gonna make me cry on my day off?” The blonde teases and you roll your eyes jokingly in response. After you and Austin started dating, it didn’t take long for the two of you to go in depth about your favorite films—I mean, it was only fitting—and it was only then did you discover his love for The Notebook. Although written off as a typical, cheesy romance film, it’s so much more than that and Austin was one of the only people to see it as such. The both of you talked for ages about it and no matter how dumb it sounds, that conversation—among many other things—convinced you wholeheartedly that Austin was the man of your dreams. It’s been years since your relationship with Austin started and that film is still one of you forever favorites. You and Austin make sure to rewatch it together at least once a year, tears and choked back sobs included.

“C’mon, baby, you know you want to! It’s about time for our rewatch anyways! I’ll be there the whole time to console you during all the sad parts, and then you’ll be there to console me right after that! I’ll even bring the tissues,” you laugh.

Austin shakes his head and because of your closeness to him you can feel his chest rumble as he laughs along with you. It’s an odd thing to find comfort it and yet you do.

“Fine but only because I love that film—and you—so much. I mean crying in my girl’s arms over a Gosling movie sounds like a day well spent to me anyways.”

The blonde inches closer and rubs his nose against yours, grinning broadly at your giggles that ensue. He swears if he could bottle up that sound and keep it forever, he would.

“Alright, I’m goin’,” Austin says as he steps back and begins to open the door. “You didn’t answer earlier, did you need anything from the store?”

Shaking your head, you respond, “Nope. All I need is for you to come home to me as soon as possible so I can wrap myself in your arms and cry over Noah and Allie with you.”

You’re met with that thousand watt smile again and you can’t help but to return it. “I promise I’ll hurry back, I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

Before Austin steps fully out the door, he stops and turns back towards you, reaching out his hand to cup your cheek and connect his lips with yours.

The kiss is soft and sweet and the second Austin pulls away you want more than anything for him to kiss you again.

“I love you,” he says before sneaking in another quick kiss, this time on your cheek, and then proceeding out the front door.

The lock clicks into place and as you stand there in the hall, the only audible sound being Austin’s car pulling out of the driveway, you sigh and reach your fingers up towards your lips. It doesn’t matter how long you and Austin have been dating, the whimsical and electric state he leaves you in after each time he kisses you will never, ever get old.

*****

It’s probably only been about fifteen to twenty minutes since Austin left when you hear keys jangling in the door knob.

You figured it wouldn’t take him long considering the store you always go to is right down the street, but the time apart was still long enough for you, so you leap off the couch and hurry to meet your boyfriend as he walks through the front door.

Instantly you notice the small plastic bag Austin’s holding in his hand that he used to open the door. You can already see the wrappings of all your favorite treats peaking through the top and that alone gets you excited. So excited, in fact, that you don’t even notice the way Austin’s holding his other hand behind his back.

The blonde holds out the plastic bag towards you and you squeal in excitement as you begin to dig around in it. “Ah, no way! They actually had them this time!? When I went last they were sold out.” As you grab at one of your favorite snacks, you watch as Austin angles himself awkwardly to try and close the door. It’s like he doesn’t want to turn his back towards you and it’s at this time that you notice he’s holding something out of your line of sight.

“Austin what are you doing?” You giggle, quirking your eyebrow at the way he stands there with a mischievous, yet fond smile on his face. You hear a distinct crinkling sound and you know it’s not from your own bag. “What d’you got there?”

“After I grabbed all our snacks and was headin’ up to the register, I passed a display and saw these.” Your boyfriend brings the hidden object from behind his back and you gasp at the sight of it. “They reminded me of you so I got ‘em for you. Pretty flowers for a pretty girl.”

Austin hands you the bouquet and your eyes instantly well with tears. They’re the most stunning blush colored roses you’ve ever seen and they smell absolutely incredible. There’s a small card sticking out of the side of them and as you read the words written in Austin’s handwriting, your heart swells with adoration.

For my favorite girl

Love, Austin

“Aus,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to withstand anything else. “They’re beautiful. Thank you so much. You didn’t have to do that.”

The actor can tell how emotional you are right now, can tell how much this means to you. He’d do anything to let you know how much you mean to him, to let you know how much he loves you. He’d buy you flowers every single day if it meant he’d get to see that look on your face. That look where your eyes get real big and sparkly and your smile is so wide it makes your eyelids crinkle at the corners. That look that makes Austin want to give you the world.

Careful not to smash the bouquet held delicately in your hands (the bag of snacks now laying on the floor), Austin reaches out and hugs you with one arm, planting a soft kiss on the side of your head. “I know I didn’t have to, sweetheart, but I wanted to. I love you so much and you deserve to be appreciated.”

With the right words to say completely escaping you, you do the next best thing and instantly close the gap between you and the man standing in front of you. One of Austin’s hands finds its place on your lower back, pushing you closer to him, and your own hand without the bouquet in it finds its way to the nape of his neck—fingers twisting in those thick waves you took notice of earlier.

“I love you so much more, Austin Butler,” you breathe out as you break apart from your boyfriend’s soft lips.

“Mmm, whatever you say, baby,” he mumbles against your mouth as he goes in for yet another kiss. You nearly drop your flowers as you get caught up in Austin again, so you break apart before you can do any real damage to them.

“As much as I’m enjoying this right now, I need it to stop for like five seconds before I completely lose myself in you and ruin this gorgeous bouquet,” you giggle, before reluctantly taking a step back from your boyfriend in order to go find a vase in the kitchen to set the flowers in.

“Would that really be such a bad thing?” Austin calls after you. It doesn’t take long for him to meet up with you in the kitchen, his tall figure leaning casually against the doorframe. “I think having rose petals all over the floor would actually be quite romantic. It’d really…set the mood.”

In between spreading out the roses in the vase you found, you glance up at Austin and can see the way his eyes have clouded over just slightly. His intent and emphasis on the last few words of his sentence become abundantly clear, and you try to fight the heat you feel rising up your neck.

Making your way around the kitchen island, you stop in front of your boyfriend and lean lightly into his chest, your hands basking in the warmth radiating through Austin’s white shirt. “You do realize it is your birthday month, right, Aus? Why am I the one getting all the special treatment?”

There’s a soft smirk playing on your lips and you revel in the way Austin tilts his head to the side, his own smirk quirking up at the corner of his mouth. “Who’s to say I’m not getting my own type of special treatment? Looking after my girl and seeing her happy sounds like a pretty nice birthday gift to me.”

Burying your face in Austin’s chest, you barely contain the squeal threatening to spill out of you over the actor’s words. This man somehow always knows the right thing to say to make you melt. “You’re such a heartthrob you know that?”

“I am a man of many talents,” Austin beams. The two of you laugh and you push lightly on his chest to get him to move back towards the living room.

“C’mon, think of the snacks waiting for us! I won’t let your incredibly smooth sweet talking make us miss out on our plan for an at home film experience!” No matter how tempting, you think.

“Trust me, sweetheart, I am thinking about my snack. Mine just isn’t in that little bag you got there.” As you bend down to pick up the plastic bag you haphazardly threw to the side at the reveal of your surprise flowers, Austin comes up behind you and lightly smacks your ass, causing you to let out a sharp gasp.

Jolting upright, you fake annoyance and watch as your boyfriend turns towards you and holds up his hands in innocence. You reach into the bag and throw one of the packets of candy at him. The blonde winks at you as he catches it with ease and then plops down on the couch.

“You’re right though, I did say I wouldn’t miss this for the world, and I am also a man of my word. So c’mon, Ryan’s waiting for us,” Austin grins as he pats the spot next to him on the couch.

Unable to keep up your feigned irritation, you let the smile that’s twitching at the corner of your lips break through as you hurry over to Austin. No matter what happens, you’d never turn down an open invitation from the man you love with all your heart.

Cuddling up to Austin’s side you sigh in the satisfaction of finally getting to relax with him. Sure you two are able to see each other relatively often considering the fact you live together, but it’s rare when you get to just sit together and do absolutely nothing besides enjoy each other’s company. No cameras, no expectations, just you and him.

If anyone were to ask you, you’d say that’s what you’d call pure heaven.

As Austin presses play on the movie and the opening credits begin to roll, you watch as he rips open the bag of candy you threw at him. You take in how he eats one and then sets it aside, beginning to set up the rest of the treats he purchased for you. The reality of it all settles in as it does every so often and you feel a tiny squeeze in your chest as you take it in.

Having someone love you so deeply, having someone who knows practically every part of you from your favorite types of candy to what flowers you would like, having someone who sees your happiness as enough satisfaction for them and truly mean it, is just incredibly unbelievable.

You wonder practically every day how in the world you were lucky enough to find someone like that. To find someone who you love wholeheartedly and who loves you just the same, if not more. The material things—the flowers, the candy—are nice, but nothing beats the feeling you get when you’re with Austin, and you thank your lucky stars that the universe brought him to you. You truly don’t know where you’d be, who you’d be, without him.

“Austin,” you start, looking into his clear blue eyes as he turns towards you, a soft smile already adorning his lips as he catches sight of you. “Thank you for…”

You can’t even begin to think of where to start. You’re sat here looking at this man that’s staring at you with such a fond, loving expression and it’s like words won’t even dare try to form in your mind in a way that would express everything you feel for him. There aren’t enough of them, there aren’t any right ones.

“For what, sweetheart?” Austin whispers as he reaches out and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, the warmth from his fingertips leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“For the…flowers,” you say before letting out an airy laugh. “For the candy, for staying in with me and letting me coerce you into watching this movie for the thousandth time, for just being you, and a million other things I don’t think I’ll ever have the right words to express.”

“You don’t have to thank me for any of that, my love, but you’re welcome anyways. I do it all because I want to, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you just like I know there isn’t anything you wouldn’t do for me. I hope you know how much I appreciate you. I love you.” Austin leans down and plants a kiss on your forehead before pulling you even closer to his side, wanting nothing but to have you wrapped in his arms.

As your boyfriend turns his attention back to the movie and begins to rub his hand soothingly up and down your back, you feel a sense of content wash over you. When you’re with Austin, it feels like no matter what happens, as long as you have each other, everything will be okay. Nothing is certain, but you’d bet everything you’ve got that this love is.

“I love you too, Aus.”

#austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #austin butler imagine #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler fluff #austin butler #requested

309 notes · View notes

lis-likes-fics · 3 months

Text

Music to My Eyes (Part 2)

Pairings: Finnick Odair x def!fem!Reader Word Count: 9.2k words Warnings: Mentions of the games, so killing and death, mentions of trauma, mentions of forced prostitution, my attempt at writing sign language, pre-Katniss, no Annie... A/N: Hey, everyone! I know it took sooo long for me to post this but it is finally out! I also know I said it would be a two parter, but I have decided to start writing a third part to this series. I have literally no clue when it will be released, as I have even begun to work on it yet. But I hope you all enjoy this! Thank you and happy reading! <3 Also A/N: Anything written in /slants/ is an indication of something being signed because explaining every little sign just does not work. Special thanks to my beta-reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen. She's so amazing! Thanks, Vee! 💖

You glance over the papers Hecton splayed out over the table, an itinerary for your next trip—a list of the people you were meeting, the districts you were attending, and other things you weren't exactly looking forward to.

You laid your head on the table and sighed, stroking a piece of paper hidden from his view. A new letter came in today from District 4. Most of the ones you received were from District 1 or the Capitol. But since you met Finnick a couple months prior, the two of you had been writing back and forth as much as you could.

You found that you missed his company far more than you expected to. You've been trying to get Hecton to plan a visit to Finnick's district, but there's always something else to be done…

Hecton's hand comes into view as he slides it across the table to grab your attention. You look up at him quickly. You see him sigh, his intense brows furrowed.

/Are you even listening?/

/Sorry,/ you reply, sitting up a little straighter and looking over the details again.

He softens. /I know you hate doing these,/ he starts, /but knowing what you're going into before you go into it is much safer than the alternative. Especially with this. So you have to be present./

You nod, looking down at your lap as you sigh. /Sorry, Hecton./ He watches you sign "friend" in place of his name and smiles.

He signs softly and mouths the word as he does it. /Thank you./

You move to get back to work when Hecton's focus shifts behind you, in the direction of the front door. You turn to look. /Must be a supervisor./

You watch Hecton sigh, rolling his own eyes as he massages the bridge of his nose. Standing, he made his way to the door in measured steps. Whoever it is can wait.

You rise to your own feet, trailing after him and leaning on the door frame of the foyer with your arms crossed over your chest. He pulls open the door, his frame blocking out your view of your “guest”. You try to look past him, to catch sight of the ambassador or peacekeeper or whoever else must be coming to checkup.

You watch him talk, one hand holding the door as the other gestures with his words. He's too used to you.

You take a step forward, and then over to the other. And then over again. And then one more step to take in the sight of a woman you know from the district. She and her family run one of the little ranches that raise the sheep.

She glances at you, smiling gently before her attention is caught by Hecton once again. He says something, she gives an indifference shrug. You read her lips.

“They asked to see you, I brought them.” She steps to the side.

A smile splits your face, the excitement building in your chest. You rush to the door.

Finnick smiles wide at the sight of you. “You're here!” he exclaims. “I was starting to think I got the wrong District.”

You laugh as you hug him, accepting the warmth of his arms. His arms wrap tightly around you, holding a fifth of a second too long before letting you go. The woman nods and takes her leave.

He motions to a woman next to him. She's small, with bushy white hair and the kindest smile. “This is Mags,” he says.

You take her soft hand in yours, returning her kind grin. You look over at Hecton, and he looks back at you with a raised brow. He stares back at you, stubborn and waiting for you to let him handle this.

But when you obviously choose not to, he glances away and huffs. You turn back to Mags triumphantly.

/Hi, Mags,/ you sign slowly, spelling out her name. Hecton translates accordingly. /I'm glad Finnick brought you. I've been looking forward to meeting you./

She nods, glancing at Finnick and making a gesture of her own. Finnick is the one to speak, “She says ‘thank you’.”

Your smile widens and you turn toward the door, waving them inside. They gladly follow.

As you go to bring them into the living room, Hecton lays a hand on your shoulder to get your attention again. He licks his lips, exasperation in his face as he turns you so his back faces your guests still walking inside.

/We should finish talking first,/ he urges, his movements small in order to talk in secret.

You offer a reluctant look. /Can we talk later? We have guests./

/Yes,/ he nods. /District 4 Victors./

You sigh. /Friends./

/Since when?/ He glances over at them, and then back at you. /We don't know these people./

/I know him. He's a friend. And she's his friend and mentor./ You tilt your head, setting a hand on his arm gently. /I trust them./

Hecton sighs, looking past you, contemplating.

/Are you sure?/

You nod, your gaze unwavering. He pinches the bridge of his nose and you know he's given up. /Fine./

You smile wide, giving your many thanks as you turn to go. He takes your arm again. /Keeps your aids close./

You wave dismissively, shaking your head. /I don't need them./

/Y/N./

But you're already gone, turning away from him to go rejoin Finnick and Mags. You rest your hand on Finnick’s forearm as you grab his attention. His smile is charming, as in meant to charm you because he winked at you when he did. It isn't just you finding him charming.

Which you don't.

You point to your wrist, and then down at the floor. “How long are we here?”

He's learning quickly.

You nod. “A few days,” he says. “Before we have…other engagements.” He glances at Mags, who just nods back to you, still smiling, though there's something else in her eyes.

Sighing, you nod as well as you point to yourself.

“You, too?”

You nod again, before quickly changing the subject by making another sign. He furrows his brow, admitting confusion. “What's that?”

You think for a moment, trying to find a way to illustrate what you're asking. You lift a cupped hand to your lips.

“Thirsty?”

You nod, making the original sign again to confirm. He shrugs, glancing at his mentor. “Why not? Mags?”

She nods as well.

The water shimmers in the sunlight like the lake is filled with a thousand thousand crystals. Finnick had suggested you all go out to the lake, have some fun. Plus, it would give you an opportunity to help teach Mags your language—you'd decided Hecton would also have to help teach her, as well. He could probably get it across a little clearer than you, since he could actually speak to her as he taught her and she would understand.

He’d agreed to help you with Mags. But, as you suspected, he immediately refused to help Finnick. But that's fine. He was learning well from you anyway.

Of course, Hecton wouldn’t let you be alone with them. He’s somewhere along the treeline of the small woods near Victor’s Village, tucked in the cover of the trees with a book and some water, perfectly prepared (by his standards) to sit there for hours surveillancing you. Whether he knows that you’re fully aware of his presence there, you’re unsure, but you are. You always know when Hecton’s around, even with how stealthy the man can become.

As you sit at the shallow end of the waters with Mags, showing her your alphabet as you'd done with Finnick before—only this time, without paper—he comes up from the deep waters with a smile. She looks at him, just as content.

“Can you swim?” he asks you. You nod. “Join me then.”

You gesture toward your new friends. /Mags?/

She just shakes her head, waving her arms gently before she gestures for you to go on. “I'll be fine,” she seems to say.

You accept as you stand to your feet, walking out with Finnick to trudge the depths. The water is cold, icy against your skin as it becomes deeper and deeper, until you have to use your arms and legs to keep your head above water. You welcome the chill. It means you’re alive.

Your eyes fall on Finnick, watching you closely as though he’s standing by in case you need his help. You give him a sweet smile, trying to ease the nerves you can see simmering there. When he winks back at you, you roll your eyes as you splash water in his face.

His mouth parts in a laugh. When he whips his hair back, tiny droplets spray over you and you wipe your face. He surprises you with a splash in return. One, two, three, four. The laughter that must have been coming out of you vibrated in your chest, splitting his grin to be wider than before as he eased up on you.

You sink into the water, swimming past him with more efficiency than he expected. You surprise him when he feels your hand grab at his ankle, letting go immediately. You don’t try to pull him underneath, you don’t tug, you simply grab him. He appreciates the courtesy, laughing as he joins you underneath.

You swim blindly, feeling the shift in the water at your left as he swims next to you. You dive deeper, deeper, deeper, until your hands brush the sandy ground of the lake floor. You let your fingers card through it: the sand, the pebbles and rocks, the stray growths of plants, the shells.

You let your hands smooth over the smooth surface of one, curling your fingers around it and coming back up as your lungs beg for air. You take in a deep, joyful breath as soon as the opportunity is given, filling your lungs with the gratifying air.

Finnick is waiting for you, treading carefully as he swims toward you. You look at him, smiling as you show him the shell you’d collected. He takes a look at it as you hold it in your hand, the top of the shell dark and dull, its ridges smooth going one side and rough going another. As you place it in his hand, turning it upside down, you smile at the iridescent underside of it.

“It’s nice,” he smiles, moving it around in his hand to see every little detail of it.

You nod, /Shiny./ Then you spell it so he understands. He mimics you, his smile widening when he gets it right.

But then he starts swimming away from you.

You gasp lightly, chasing after him. But he’s faster than you, evading every attempt you make at capturing him and the shell. You stop, ignoring the laughter you feel bubbling in your chest as you smack the water, pouting. “You want it back?” he asks, raising his brows as he taunts you.

You nod.

“You gotta catch it,” he shrugs, swimming back again.

He hears you whine, making a sign he’s unfamiliar with. He just keeps making you chase him.

You pout again, ducking under the water once more as you swim down, down, down. He looks around, staying afloat and watching the water carefully. You stay down longer than he expects you to. And even longer after that.

He starts to get worried, looking around and muttering your name under his breath as though you can hear him as he wonders if he should go down and look for you.

But then he feels your hand on his shoulder as you start to climb up his back, wrapping your body around him and snatching the shell from him before he can drop it out of shock. He panics for a split second before reminding himself that it’s just you. Safe and breathing.

His hands instinctively find your legs, his arms wrapping under his knees to keep you secure on his back. He starts to carry you around, letting you have your victory as you giggle above him. You smile wide, holding on tight to him. This is the most fun you’ve had in a long time.

Taking you by complete surprise, Finnick throws himself backwards as he dunks you. You let yourself fall back, being engulfed by the water as you sink. Slowly, the water takes you farther down into its depths as you admire the stillness.

You always feel nice when you go to the lake. You feel safe, still, understood. Under the water, enveloped by its mass, you feel like, for once…you’re not the only one. You feel like everyone else would know, just for a moment, what it was like in your mind. So silent. Just for a moment.

Your beating heart slows with the calm. It gives you time to think.

You’re not used to genuinely smiling this much; your throat and your chest feel weird, a good kind of achy. Even before the Games, before the heartache and the trauma, you never had much to smile about, living in one of the poorer Districts with nothing but the rundown house you grew up in with your parents until they died of an illness and you landed in the orphanage in even worse condition.

After that, you didn’t really have anyone until Hecton came by the orphanage to give food to the starving children, under the radar of the Peacekeepers of course. He came across you, a poor girl with no hearing, completely alone because she could not communicate. He began to frequent the orphanage much more, teaching you the signs he’d learned after his mother—she lost her hearing during the long war when she was five.

Then you were selected for the annual Games, where Hecton became your official mentor. And you survived, but it was hard to live after that. Because you could never just win the Game—no, you never win the Game. You just play a different one now.

And then there was the business with Snow.

So, no, there wasn’t much time for joy.

But with Finnick, everything feels lighter. You feel like maybe…maybe you could do this. Maybe you can go another day, smiling for people who don’t care about you, giving to people who wouldn’t give back. With Finnick, you can take the pain. Because he makes you smile. Oh, you think you could go through anything if it ended with Finnick making you smile.

Your lungs burn.

Coming to your senses, you swim up for air as you feel the need to gasp, to breathe, to inhale all of the water in search of even a sip of oxygen. You claw your way to the top like you're crawling out of a grave.

You fill your lungs as soon as the chill of breath teases you. You soothe the ache, overreaching as you feel your chest heave. But it’s okay. Just breathe.

Finnick won’t admit the relief that washes over him when you resurface. He won’t admit that he felt far too much panic when you stayed below the water way longer than he was anticipating. He won’t admit that he thought, for a moment, that he’d hurt you…or worse.

Instead, he swims toward you a little too quickly and makes sure you’re alright as you catch your precious breath. “I thought I was going to have to come down for you,” he sighs, forcing a chuckle at the end so he doesn’t sound as desperate as he feels.

You steady yourself, your tired arms keeping your head just above the water as you return your body to the calm. You’re tired and your stomach feels a little achy. You slowly press your fingertips together and tap your lips twice. /Hungry./

He takes your hand in his, smiling gently and easing his worry. “Well, come on then.” He pulls you gently with him back to the shore, where you spy Hecton standing at the treeline and looking like he was going to jump in at any moment to save you.

The sun is hanging a little lower in the sky now. The sky is painted a beautiful fade of orange and blue and pink. Sometimes it's hard to remember that a world as solemn and barbaric as Panem can be so beautiful.

E-F-G

You all have been at the lake all day. It's peaceful out here. Mags sits on the blanket laid over the sand with you right next to her. Finnick is sitting closer to the water, his arms wrapped around his knees. He's at an angle, always aware, always ready. The water is still.

K-L-M

Finnick shifts a rock in his palm, rearing his arm back to toss it at the water. It skips, skips, skips.

Q-X— Q-R-S

You point your stick, which you found nearer to the treeline a while ago, at all the letters you'd drawn in the sand. Mags studies them with you.

W-R— W-X-Y-Z.

You nod emphatically, a wide grin on your lips. /Yes! Yes!/ She's just as excited as you.

You'd both been going through the alphabet a few times, teaching her the signs of each letter just to get through with the basics. She's a fast learner, just like someone else you know…

Mags’ sweet smile spreads a bit wider. Thinking quickly, she turns to you and starts signing something, not quite sure of herself.

T…H…A…N…K…

You smile, lifting your hand to your chin and then gesturing to her in a slow, fluid motion. She repeats it. /Thank you./

You take her hand between yours. It's a little cold, a little shaky. She smiles fondly.

Taking her hand back slowly, she begins again. H…A…P…P…Y. You sign “happy” for her. She points to Finnick, then to you.

You try to hide your bashful grin. /Friends./ You spell it and then point to all of you.

Her smile is almost sly now. She shakes her head. /Him happy you. You happy him./

/Make. M-A-K-E./

She nods.

You look her way almost suspiciously. /I make him happy?/

She nods. /You make him…smile./ In an attempt to find a substitute for “smile”, she chose the right gesture for it.

You glance at the sand, your eyes slowly trailing up and up until they find Finnick, still staring out at the gleam of the water.

You turn your gaze back to Mags. She's all smiles. You lift a hand to your forehead, swiping it off into the letter “Y”.

Her brows furrow, a little confused. You remember yourself and spell it out. /W-H-Y?/

She contemplates, turning toward Finnick. Raising a hand high, she waves it a little. He sees it instantly, standing to his feet and making his way toward the both of you. At the sight of your faces, the corner of his lips raise curiously.

“You called?” He almost bows dramatically. Mags pats the empty space in front of her. He sits obediently.

Lifting her hands, she presses them gently against his chest and yours. She looks between the two of you, lingering and waiting for you to get it.

You look down at her hand on your chest, you look at his. Letting your eyes wander upward, your eyes meet and you pretend you're not affected. You look back at Mags. You just nod to her, halfway understanding what she means.

Finnick, not understanding at all, chuckles. “What are you two gossiping about?”

You laugh—or, rather, you assume you laughed. Mags’ silent laughter joins you as she drops her hands. You shake your head at him. /Nothing./

Hecton's heavy fist knocks lightly on the door of one of the spare bedrooms. He waits patiently. The door opens.

“Leary,” Finnick greets, smiling gently.

“Mr. Odair,” he responds. He almost adds an extra emphasis to “mister”. “May I have a word?”

“Of course,” Finnick, understanding what was being asked, says. He looks over his shoulder at Mags on the second bed—Finnick insisted they be put in the same room, and you all were fully aware of the reason why when there were plenty of rooms to choose from, so a second bed was moved into this one so they would both be comfortable.

“Mags,” he smiles reassuringly. “I'll be back.”

She nods.

Finnick steps out of the room and closes the door silently behind him. The two walk slowly through the halls, side by side with considerable space between them. Hecton holds his hands securely behind his back. Finnick’s own hands are clasped comfortably in front of him, his thumbs tapping one another as he waits for Hecton to begin.

Hecton stares at the ground, watching each foot pass the other with every step. He counts it silently in his head. One…two…three… One…two…three…

“I've been wanting to speak with you,” he finally says.

Finnick lifts a brow, “About?”

“About this…” Hecton glances up to slowly meet his gaze, “unusual relationship with Y/N.”

He chuckles lightly, shrugging his shoulders. “What's so unusual about it? We're friends.”

Hecton pauses on his next step, turning to face Finnick as the crease between his huge brows deepens. “And is that your only intent with her?”

Finnick’s own brow furrows this time.

Hecton continues walking again. “I also participated in the Games and won,” he says. “I know what it was like in there, and I know you do, too. People who went through what we went through don't go around making friends with one another. Not like this.”

When he stops again, they're in the living room and his back is facing the direction of your room. His face has fallen from any pleasantry and any distaste he holds for Finnick is clear across it. “What is it you want from her?”

Finnick notices the way Hecton speaks. His back (metaphorically) to you, his hands held tightly behind his back, his lips under-enunciate his words but he doesn't care to whisper. He's so used to talking only with you, even his way of “talking in private” is different. He keeps his back toward your direction to prevent you from reading his signs, and he holds his hands behind his back for the same reason. He speaks so closed-mouthed because you can read lips. Most of—if not his whole—life is centered around you.

You mean so much to this man. Finnick can't mistake his words for an insult because it isn't one. He's just looking out for you.

And that's all Finnick wants to do for you as well.

“All I want is her friendship,” he says, plain and simple. He doesn't sugarcoat, dress up in fancy language or strange little riddles. He just says it.

But Hecton is insistent. “Why?”

“Like you said,” Finnick continues, “you know what it was like. Well, so does she. All I want from her is to be friends with someone who knows.”

“And that's all it is?” he asks, urgent. “There are no other feelings involved?”

Finnick shakes his head slowly. “No.” At least, he's pretty sure of that.

Hecton stares at his face, thinking, searching his face for any kind of lie. But there isn't any dishonesty in his eyes. Or, at least, he can't find any. With a sigh, he relents.

“Good.”

He holds out his hand, his face watching Finnick straight on. He grasps it. There's a moment of silence as Hecton's hand begins to close around Finnick’s, squeezing tighter and tighter to ensure his threat is thoroughly felt. Finnick is unfazed.

“Mr. Odair…” he says, his voice low and his words leaving slowly through his lips, “I never had children. But you should know that Y/N happens to be something of a daughter to me. If you hurt her, in any way…” He takes a step closer, increasing the tension between them, “It will be the last thing you do on this earth.”

His face is stern, void of leniency or mercy. Still…Finnick has faced worse.

“Am I clear?” Hecton questions.

Finnick squeezes back. “Crystal.” Letting his lips part in a small grin, he tilts his head very slightly. “And, please…call me Finnick.”

“Thank you for welcoming us into your humble abode.” Finnick bows theatrically, smiling like an idiot when you wave him to stand.

/Very funny,/ you roll your eyes. You try not to let on how much you'll miss him. You don't know when next you'll see him. /Next time, I visit you./

He's getting better, but he doesn't know that word. He looks to Hecton, he translates briefly before returning to his goodbye to Mags. It's become a routine. But he is getting better.

He turns back to you. “Looking forward to it, sweetcheeks.” He winks at you as he clicks his tongue.

You scowl playfully at him, turning your nose up in feigned disgust. /Stop!/ Your hand lands on his shoulder, lightly shoving him away from you as he relents to the motion. /You're annoying./

His hands fly to his chest, over his beating heart as he closes his eyes in “pain”. “You wound me. Really, you do.”

/Clearly not enough./

He chuckles lightly, rolling his eyes. Like an idiot. He takes a step away when Mags comes forward. She smiles warmly. /Thank you, sweet girl./ Her signs are a little choppy, but they're heartfelt.

You return her smile. /You're welcome./ You take both her hands in yours, squeezing oh, so gently. /Come again soon. Please./

She takes one of her hands from yours and closes it around the others.

Hecton, his voice gentle and his hand on your shoulder even gentler, steps behind you. You turn over your shoulder. /You should be getting some rest now. We have a busy day tomorrow./

Your lashes flutter and you nod. You hug Mags, and then you hug Finnick. With Finnick, the hug lasts a little long…

He pulls away, his hands still on your arms. /See you soon./

You nod. Your hands create a sign he doesn't know. He looks to Hecton.

“Be safe,” he says.

Finnick smiles, a soft thing on his face as he nods. “Always.”

The walls are cold and sterile but still, contrastingly, just as grand and lavish as the rest of the Capitol. There are two Peacekeepers at your sides, one behind you, one leading you through familiar but winding halls. Hecton left you at the door. Only because he had to.

Their heavy footsteps pound in your ears in a maddeningly steady beat. There are people in the distance speaking over other people in the distance speaking. The sound of clothes rubbing against more clothes and skin and metal and whatever else there is to rub against is so unsteady that, that drives you madder.

A lady in extravagant professionalism walks toward you; a clipboard in her hands, manicured white nails, tiny circle glasses on her dark nose, her straightened blonde hair done up in a ridiculously lavish bun. She's in sterile white, with thin heels that make her a head taller than you. The tip-tap, clip-clop of them will finish out the last ounce of sanity you've managed to keep tight in your fist.

She smiles plainly at you as you get closer. The Peacekeeper in front of you breaks away to give her his former place. “Welcome back,” she says, her back to you as she walks. You keep up. “I trust you had safe transport?”

Her words are so strange in your mind. Knowing the words are one thing, hearing them are a completely different issue. This “eloquence” is ineloquent and, quite frankly, grating against your senses. Her S’s are sharp, her T’s are crisp, even her R’s cut your ears in twos and fours and on.

You don't find it pleasant.

You raise your hand to your left ear, tapping the tiny device once, twice, three times in an effort to soften the blow of each sound scraping your brain.

She seems to remember you can't respond to what she's saying and glances over her shoulder. You nod. She nods back.

“Very good,” she says, turning back around again. “You know the drill. Follow me this way, and we will get you in your proper attire before we take you to House.”

You nod again. She says nothing more.

You do as you're told, following her through the building until you reach the Sanitation Chambers. It’s a large room with a row of doors lining one wall, numbers above each highlighted red or green. Two Peacekeepers stay by Door 5, she gestures toward the door. “Your clothes are already inside, along with your robe. When you are ready, you will go through the other door and another guide will be waiting for you.”

If you're being completely honest with yourself, you have hardly understood a single word to come out of her mouth. You can read lips all day, you read someone's signs all day. But seeing words and hearing them are two completely different areas of understanding for you, and you've just been nodding and agreeing this whole time. But you've done this before. You just trust that you understand what's going on and move on from there…

You nod, turning toward the door. With a sigh, you open and close it behind you. The 5 clicks red. The room, sterile again, is small, closet-sized. There's a cubby with your clothes, shoes, and jewelry. Your robe is on a hook next to it.

You strip, letting your clothes drop carelessly to the floor. You stare at the white button above the hook. The word above it reads, “SANITIZE”. You take in a breath, hold it, and press the button.

The sound is harsh and sharp and hissing. It sucks into your skull and the pain rages in the valleys of your mind. Your mouth parts and a shout falls from your tongue as the white gas shoots out from spouts all around the room. Your hands fly to your ears, covering them as your nails just nearly scrape at the flesh. You dig your fingers into your ears, fishing out the tiny devices lodged in the drums.

The sound stops all at once.

You stand there, clutching your ears as your wide eyes stare at one corner of the floor. There's a tiny pebble there. It's brown, barely the size of a pea.

The gas has already stopped. But your heart is beating so fast, heavy in your chest as it beats against your ribcage like a wild animal in a crate.

You close your eyes, take in a deep breath, hold it for a few counts, and then let it out. Steadied and recentered, you look down at your two hearing aids scattered on the floor.

You promised Hecton you would wear them, but you don't think you could put those back in and continue on with the grating way of the world. You fold your discarded clothes, setting them on the shelf and placing your hearing aids in your shoe.

After you dress yourself again, you wrap your robe tight over your body and open the other door. It locks when you close it behind you.

Another guide meets you, just as the first said she would, and walks you into another room. She's saying something, but you don't understand. She walks in front of you. But you know the drill, and Hecton went through everything before you left.

You're taken to a waiting room, but you don't spend a lot of time there before your guide is taking you again to another room. This one, however, is the room you're most familiar with. It's the room you'll be practically locked in for the next week. A bedroom, with a joining bathroom completed with another sanitization chamber and a large closet pre-filled with more outfits than you'll have to wear all week.

Five minutes and the door opens again. And a familiar face walks through. Like a switch in your brain, your face is molded to the kind, friendly girl you're used to showing on stage.

This man is one you see often. Whenever you're booked for this kind of business, he's likely to be there. You don't like him. He feels loud. He's rough and kind of mean, and he's hard to understand because he doesn't speak visibly enough.

He smiles at you and your skin crawls. Like clockwork, you let your robe fall from your shoulders and he starts circling you. Like prey.

It feels like being in the arena again. The hair on the back of your neck stands on edge, the tips of your ears burn like they've been lit on fire.

When he's finished circling you, he begins walking toward you until you have no choice but to look up at him so much your neck hurts.

The bedroom falls away when you look at his face, at his eyes, burning. The anxiety is beginning to rise in you again but today, he isn't just hungry, he looks primal. He looks more dangerous, he feels more dangerous.

He's going to hurt you. The way he stares at you, the way he circled you, he's hunting you. Your heart picks up, your breathing quickens.

You take a step back and he takes a bigger one closer. You take another, and another, and another. You need to be away from you, your head spins with the fear replacing your nerves.

He's angry now. Why would you run from him? You aren't supposed to run.

He grabs your arm, his grip strong and crushing. You panic. Turning your arm from his grasp, you struggle away from him. He scowls.

You back up to the wall. He rushes toward you. Just as he's holding out his hands, he seems to grow bigger and bigger.

With quick reflex, you grab him just as he grabs you and turn around. You shove him up against the wall. His head smacks against it, hard, but he doesn't wince and his head doesn't move from its place.

His hold on you has completely loosened. You let him go and stumble back. Your eyes are wide, your heart doesn't feel like it's beating, everything is suddenly so still.

You take a step to the side, slowly, slowly taking one more as you peer behind his head. You can't scream, the sound doesn't leave your throat, it doesn't even rise in your chest, the shock and fear was too strong at the sight of his head stuck on a tiny hook in the wall. The blood streams down the wall, down his neck. It stains his clothes.

You breathe in, in, in, filling your lungs, filling them to the brim, rearing up for a scream—

A thumb strokes your cheek and your eyes flutter before snapping out, wide. He stands in front of you, having not moved from his original spot even once as he looked expectantly at you. One hand is on your cheek, the other is wrapped around your waist. He's saying something, his lips poorly forming the words.

“What's the hold up?”

It wasn't real. You were just imagining things. You aren't in the arena anymore, and you aren't in danger. You sigh and uneasily slip back into your act. You set your hands hesitantly on his shoulders and smile. You just nod.

A week. You can take a week.

Icy tremors sink into your flesh and bone as you shake. You clutch your hands to your arms, desperate for warmth in the damp cold.

Palms scrape against rocky ground as you struggle to escape the stalking beast created from the Games, not Mutt but Man.

His fists are clenched, his teeth are sharp, his smirk is primal. Just when you think he's going to kill you, he's knelt in front of you and sunk his claws into the flesh of your thigh. A soundless scream tears from your throat. His other hand wraps around your throat, and you claw at it in a desperate attempt to tear it away—

A hand on your shoulder shocks you awake. You bolt up, hands flying and eyes wild with fear and adrenaline. More hands find your face, but they rest with the softest touch on your cheeks and hold you gently.

A pair of lips come into view, forming words you can't hear and struggle to decipher for the moment. The hands move away from you and begin to form letters. O-K-O-K-O-K.

You finally look up and recognize Finnick’s worried eyes. You breathe quickly, moving your hands to communicate back.

/Slow down,/ he signs. “I can't read that fast, sweetheart.” His hand comes to rest on your cheek again, he holds it gently and brushes his thumb over the skin. You lean into his hand. “C’mon, breathe.”

You follow his head, breathing in…out…in…out. You close your eyes, resting your head against his palm. The world around you seems to still. You raise a hand to cover the back of his.

You steady yourself with another breath, reminding yourself once again that you are no longer in the arena. You're in District 4, visiting Finnick just as you promised you would. And everything is okay.

You open your eyes, a new calm settling over you as you circle your fist over your chest. /Sorry./

He shakes his head. “Don't apologize. It's not your fault.” He strokes your cheek again before slowly pulling his hand away and sitting next to you on the bed. “Nightmares happen, that's all.”

He holds his hand out toward you. You take it, holding his hand between both of yours. His other one covers yours as his thumb brushes them. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head gently. You don't meet his eyes. /Personal./

“You don't have to,” he assures you. “I'm not going to make you.”

His words mean so much to you. They warm your chest, make you feel so special. He gives you a choice. He makes it your decision on whether or not you want to talk to him, to share with him something so secret of yourself.

You glance up at him, then away at the desk in the corner of the room as you think. You shrug. /Just the Games…and things./

He asks softly, not pushy but curious. “What things?”

You shake your head gently. /You wouldn't understand./

His body shifts with a chuckle. “Try me.”

You sigh, your heart beating too noticeably in your chest at the idea of telling someone. Revealing this part of yourself to someone who wasn't Hecton, to someone who didn't know…it felt so vulnerable.

You go slowly to make sure he understands.

/After Games, it didn't stop for me. Even with my disability…/ you pause, taking a breath, /I was…/

He tilts his head. Suspicious but not wanting to get ahead of himself. “You were what?”

/Hard word,/ you explain. You don't know the sign for this one. /They said…/

You start to spell it, slowly as he voiced each letter. “D…E…S…I…” You keep signing, but he goes silent. You stop two letters later, dropping your hands and looking up at his crest-fallen eyes.

He shakes his head, a frown set deep in his face as his eyes seem to lose their light. “No,” he whispers.

Confused, you raise your hands hesitantly, rethinking multiple times before you finally continue on. /What?/

It takes him a moment to reply, though his lips twitch as they form the words. He shakes his head again. “Not you.”

/What do you mean?/ you ask slowly. When he doesn't answer you, he watches you sign ‘river’ and take his hands.

He looks away from you, clenching and unclenching his jaw. A deep frown is etched into the structure of his face, and he shakes his head as frustration joins his mixture of emotions.

Finnick closes his eyes when he turns his head to you next, taking a breath and hesitating before he speaks. “You won the Games, and Snow labeled you an object of…attraction. And he…” His eyes open again as he trails off.

Your hands shake. Leaning back, you try to understand what this means, but you find yourself too hateful of the truth to be able to come to terms with it. You move slowly, lethargically, as you continue. /He sold me./

He sighs, shutting his eyes again. His frustration melds into something more sullen, something sadder. He shakes his head, muttering to himself about the injustice, the unfairness.

“Not you.”

You set your hand on his shoulder to get his attention again, making him look at you as you struggle to understand. You swallow thickly. /How did you know?/ Your eyes sting with your desperate plea. /Finnick. How?/

He just looks up, his eyes landing on your face.

You bite your lip, his face becoming blurry as the tears build in your eyes, the tension high as they threaten to spill over your waterline.

/No./ Your hands, though trembling, are firm. /Not you./ He turns away, but you catch his cheek and turn him back to you. He almost seems to lean into your palm as you do. /Finnick, not you./ A single tear slips down his cheek. As if on cue, a tear of your own mirrors his.

/How long?/

He licks his bottom lip, sighing. “Since I won.”

Your throat is hot, it's a struggle to get fresh air down to your lungs as you shake your head. /Not you./

It's hopeless. Every time you get your hands on something good, Snow takes it away. Finnick wasn't supposed to know that world. He was supposed to be done. Sure, he had tours, he had appearances.

But not this.

You stare down at your hands.

He stands quickly, saying something you don't catch because he's turned away from you. He faces you again, motioning toward you. “And you're much better?” He covers his face with his hands, pressing his fingers against his eyes. His chest deflates as his hands sweep down, and he watches you with his head tilted to the side like it was too heavy to carry.

“He can't keep getting away with this.” He shakes his head again, forever denying the injustice. “Not with you.” This one was said softer, coated in the hopelessness twisting in his gut, in his chest.

You stand to your feet, walking over to him as you take his hands. You stand close to him, sighing. You try to reassure him. /I'm okay./

“It's not fair,” he says weakly.

You drop your head onto his shoulder, and his hands instinctively come to settle around you. You breathe in deep, closing your eyes. You don't want him to worry about you.

/It's okay./

There's a long silence.His arms wrap tighter around you, pulling you in close as your bodies provide a comfort you hadn't held in a very long time. His chin rests atop your head. He holds you for perhaps too long as he soaks in the feeling of your warmth.

He pulls away, but only enough to look at your face. You look up at him, content with his arms around your body and his eyes on you, if nothing else.

There's another pause. “What were you dreaming about?”

You let a gentle breath blow through your nose as you take a step back from him, sitting back down on the bed and giving him plenty of space to join you—and he does. /As I said, just the Games./ You pull your knees onto the bed, turning your body to face him as you communicate. Your brows furrow, /Only different./

“Different how?”

You shrug. /Both nightmares at once./ You lick your bottom lip, thinking out what you're going to say before saying it. You'll have to spell out a few words as you go, but he's never minded.

/I'm running through the mountains and go to hide in the caves, when someone finds me. No one is around to hear me, I don't even know if I'm making sound./ He struggles to keep his face partial to empathy and concern. He can't help the tightening of his jaw at the way you describe it. But you know the frustration isn't directed toward you.

You don't realize how your hands have begun moving faster, so fast they seem to flap around as you continue on. Your eyes burn with unshed tears, they burn with the quickening of your heart and the tightness of your chest. /He pushes me to the ground, pins me down. The cameras… The cameras point to me when…/

He watches two tears slip down your cheeks and immediately sets his hands on your shoulders. He holds off on hugging you so you can see him tell you, “Hey, it's okay. You're safe with me.”

Almost desperately, he pulls you into him another time, petting your hair slowly and carefully. He shushes you gently, though he knows you cannot hear it. You hold him close, though the tears have already been sucked back in and become reduced to a harsh ache in your throat.

You've had practice in hiding that pain…

Somehow, you feel lighter. With the burden of that secret, which lay so heavily on your shoulders for so long, finally lifted, you feel like you can breathe just a little more. And, selfishly, you're relieved. And you hate this simple fact, but you are. Because he understands. He knows what it's like, even more than other tributes may have after coming out of those Games without the added shame of selling their bodies for the cruel manipulations of President Snow.

He understands.

Finnick suddenly pulls away from you, and you miss the warmth of his chest on your cheek. He takes a moment, thinks, and then moves his hand with the words he speaks.

/No one will hurt you here./ Your heart aches with the affection that takes root there. /I promise./

You bite down hard on your lower lip as the lump in the back of your throat rises with a fury. You swallow thickly, forcing the fierce feeling inside of you down so you can properly breathe. It hurts, but you welcome the pain because it's the result of something special, something so uniquely Finnick that all you can do is cherish it forever.

/Don't leave. At least tonight?/ Your hands tremble with the emotion welling inside you.

He smiles. “I'll stay right here,” he promises. “Keeping you safe. You don't have to be alone.”

His words hit right where you're most vulnerable. /Thank you, Finnick./

His lips tug at the corners into a tiny smile. “You keep using ‘river’. Why is that?”

You look down at your lap in an effort to hide your small grin, shrugging gently. /Easier,/ you finally answer after a moment too long. /And more…special./

When he grins, it's that type of grin that you know is usually followed by something sarcastic or funny. It widens the span of your lips. “I'm special?” he asks, pressing a hand to your chest. You glance away from him, nodding a little but not wanting to give him the full pleasure of knowing so. He looks pleased. His trying to cheer you up has lifted his own mood tremendously. “Why, thank you, sweets.”

You wave him off, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers. You like the way his hand fits with yours…

“So why river?” he wonders.

/Water doesn't work as well, but you remind me of water. Like lakes or rivers./ You smile sweetly. /Very good swimmer, green eyes like lakes sometimes./

He seems proud now, and you almost regret telling him—except you love when he acts like this, simultaneously the cockiest and sweetest person you know. “I should call you…” He thinks for a moment, and then begins to sign something. “Music.”

Lightly smacking his shoulder, you shove him away from you. That feeling that bubbles out of you, that feeling you know is a laugh, rises in your chest and falls from your lips as you sign exaggeratedly. /That's mean!/

“No, it's not!” His own laughter rises from within him as he can't help himself. You're just so sweet. “Your laugh, it's like music.” You feel heat begin to pool in your cheeks, in your face. “Your name is gorgeous,” he continues. His hand rises and he crooks his finger, tucking it under your chin gently just to brush it there.

He smiles, and the way he does lets you know that he tries to be funny with it, but he's too sincere as he watches you closely. “You're music to my eyes, sweetness.”

You shake your head, hiding your face from him because you're too shy to face him after he's said something so sweet. /Crazy./

He does the chin thing again, mostly because he wants to see your pretty face again but also because he wants to tease you. You look at his mouth to see him speak but nothing else. “You’re crazy,” he accuses.

You smile, and—for once—you feel like you can do it shamelessly. You look up at him, looking at all the details of his face: the greens of his eyes, the subtle point of his nose, the couple of freckles here and there on his cheeks. You lick your bottom lip.

/How do you say you or name?/

He points to his chest, raising his brows questioningly. “My name?”

You nod. Unsure of what to say, he just says it. “Finnick.”

Your lips part, and you're suddenly incredibly self-conscious as you move your lips to form the name. You feel sound rise in your throat, but you don't know whether or not the right one came out.

He smiles. His name had been garbled in your name, muffled with the inexperience of using your own voice instead of your hands to speak. Your voice is hoarse, quiet and sticky with disuse. You must feel it, because you clear it right after as you raise your hand to feel your throat.

“Close,” he says. “Watch.” He raises his finger underneath his bottom lip and speaks again, slower this time. He over-articulates, speaking as clearly as he can. “Fin-ni-ck.”

You press your bottom lip to your top teeth, mimicking the placement of his own mouth. When you add sound to make the ‘F’, it comes out as a ‘V’. “Inni-ck.”

His smile widens, though he isn't taunting you. He holds out his palm. “Gimme your hand.” You do. He moves your hand into a fist and then raises your index. Then he pulls your finger to his lips and mouths the ‘F’ of his name, blowing on your finger and playfully rolling your eyes when you squirm. “Feel that?” he asks gently, patiently. “F-innick.” He spends extra time on the beginning once more.

He lets go of your hand and you bring it to your own lips to try, doing as he did and making sure you feel the air of that ‘F’ as you try again. “Fff-inni-ck.”

He smiles, a huge thing of a smile that shows you just how proud he is. “Yeah! Now put it together.”

So you say it again, and again, and again, repeating it over and over until you get it right. You watch Finnick's face, bright with wonder and amazing, shining with pride and triumph as he watches you attempt his name. And when you say it like you've spoken it a million times before, he feels a lump in his throat and a warmth in his chest. He thinks you're amazing.

“That's it,” he nods, swallowing thickly. He hopes you miss the way his eyes glittered. But you don’t. “That's my name. Finnick.”

“Finnick,” you repeat.

He smiles. “Y/N.”

Tilting your head, you raise your hands again. /How does mine sound?/

He's excited. He has quickly found that he loves doing this with you. “Let's see.” Just as he begins to speak, you stop him.

/Wait./ You think for a moment, making the decision with a final nod to yourself. /I…brought my hearing aids./ His face shifts slightly, a quiet realization. You go to your bag, digging through it to fish out the little box holding said devices. /I do not like wearing them, but Hecton hates when I do not have them close./ You sit by him again.

His hand sets over your own, stopping you gently. “You don't have to.”

/I want to,/ you promise. /I want to hear you./

His eyes flit across your face for a moment before he slowly withdraws his hands. You open the box and take a breath of courage before you pick them up one at a time, pushing them into your ears one at a time, ignoring the discomfort it brings the farther it goes one at a time. Another breath of courage and you switch them on.

It's not what you expected. Usually, the world was so loud. So relentlessly full of noise. But right here, right now… it was still. Still enough to take a breath and only hear the strange sound of the air passing through your nose and into your lungs.

You have to take a moment to adjust, even still, and Finnick understands this because he doesn't say a thing. He hardly moves to avoid the potential rustling of his clothes from bothering you. When you're ready, you turn your gaze to take him in.

You clear your throat as gently as you can, adjusting your volume accordingly. You let your lips part, take a moment, and then speak. “Hi, Finnick,” you speak. He notices how your ‘H’ doesn't quite come through, and it only makes his smile wider.

You pause, your lips parting just a slight at the sound of his name in your own, strange voice. “Finnick,” you repeat, as though you’re tasting the name. It’s like music, you think.

He takes your hand in his, squeezing as softly as he physically could as he smiles. “Hi, Y/N.”

Another pause. So that's what people heard when they heard your name? That's what you sound like to others?

Slowly but surely, you let your mouth form the letters of your name before, hesitantly, you replicate the sound. When you say it the first time, it doesn't sound quite right. Finnick repeats it again, encouraging you with the squeeze of his hand. And then you say it, feeling that same lump rising once more like a reoccurring pest.

“Y/N,” you smile, biting down on your bottom lip to contain your joy at achieving something so…so nice. Something as simple but as special as saying your own name. You giggle a little, your eyes widening at the sound as you suddenly become addicted to it. You do it again. /Pretty./

“Pretty,” he voices.

With a little more confidence, you repeat it. “Pr-etty. Prett-y. Pretty.”

He nods, and a chuckle of his own slips from him. You like the sound of his laughter even more than the sound of your own. “Yes, it is pretty.” He still speaks slowly, wanting to make sure you're still properly understanding him. “You’re very pretty.”

You feel like he's going to make you cry again, but you just look down at your lap and let yourself feel and hear the chuckle that escapes you. Lifting your chin again, you bashfully smile. /Thank you./

“Thank you.”

Slowly and surely. “Th-ank you.”

Music to My Eyes taglist: @notplutos @avoxrising @akila-twt @hauntedclaudio @unstablereader @unholyhuntress @the-nerdy-goddess @anaiiiss @forget-me-not-my-dear @camilalexa93 @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @randomgurl2326 @caitsymichelle13 @whens-naptime @emma-andrea1 @briarlovesginny @b00klvrs @queermaxwooo Tag 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 fanficiton #the hunger games fanfic #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #reader insert #female reader #deaf reader

93 notes · View notes