#and that drags it down for me. let her be tragic

[yuridovewing]

ivypool is like sandfire to me. the version of her i made in my head is fantastic and i love her. and yet canon is so disappointing

[revasserium]

can i have one were zoro realises she does things bc of truama (like doesnt speak much etc)

hold me (still)

opla!zoro; 6,680 words; slow!!!!burn, fem!reader, ex-assassin!reader, straw hat!reader, general tragic backstory/trauma, fluff, hurt/comfort, bit of angst, emotionally constipated zoro, communication? what's that?, nami playing therapist bc she's the only one with 1 iota of emotional intelligence

summary: sometimes, stillness is a virtue, and others -- a tragedy. or, in which the straw hats pick up a new member and zoro is equally intrigued and weirded out by you.

a/n: well. you guys asked for slow burn and... the burn is so slow u gotta squint to see the smoke yall. but trust. the burn does get there! pls be patient!! and i tried to combine 2 dif reqs in this one fic :)

You are of the quiet sort. Just a shadow dancing in the periphery of their vision, and when they first met you, you’d told them it was your superpower, a soft, still smile slipping across your lips. Luffy had bought into it immediately, and the invitation was out his mouth before anyone could stop him.

“Come with us!”

“Oh…” your lips pressed into a thin line of consideration.

Zoro’s fingers itched towards his swords because something about you makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. But something else — something uncomfortable and strange, something very much like curiosity — seizes his chest and twists his stomach. Strange, he thinks, too strange.

“C’mon! It’ll be fun!”

And then, you’d smiled wider, and nodded, and that had been that.

It’s been three months since then, and you are still of the quiet sort, though it had receded a bit with time. What with Sanji’s gentle flirting and Usopp’s not-so-gentle stories and Nami’s bright, dry-humored companionship, you’d begun to “open up a bit”, so Luffy observed.

Zoro, for his part, has kept his distance. Because sometimes he still catches you at the bow of the ship, staring out across the midnight waters, still as a stone-carved statue. Still as a wooden beam — stiller, even.

“What’s with that?” he asks one day, strolling up to Nami as she traces a fine line over a new map she’s working on.

“Hm?” is her very eloquent response.

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth and casts his eyes about the ship, finding them drawn to the shape of you, up at the bow again, reading in the shade of the tangerine trees. Nothing moves except for the wind as it whisps through your hair and the slow scanning of your eyes as it skates across the page.

“New girl,” Zoro says, crossing his arms as Nami finally looks up at him and then off towards you.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Zoro lets out a puff of breath, unfolding his arms to glare at Nami. He finds her grinning a lopsided grin as she clicks shut her compass and puts down her pen. She leans a hip on the barrel she’d been drawing on and folds her own arms.

“Oh, you like her.”

“I’m weirded out by her. ‘S not the same thing,” Zoro snaps, but when he tries to leave, Nami blocks him with an arm and pins him with a sharp, leveling look.

“No, no, no — we’re gonna work this through.”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“Uh-uh, you still owe me after that round of drinks the other night — remember when you bet you could drink more than me?”

Zoro narrows his eyes, “I did drink more than you.”

Nami’s grin is gleeful, “No, you didn’t. You had to be dragged back to your room after clogging up the toilet. Or do I need to show you the evidence —”

“Alright — fuck, fine. But really? This is what you’re gonna waste your favor on? You could’ve asked me to —” Zoro gestures around vaguely, “clean the bilge or something.”

Nami shrugs, looking almost too pleased, “Nope! This is what I wanna use my favor for. And, really, you think a bit of bilge water is gonna gross me out? C’mon.”

Zoro heaves a sigh and leans back against the main mast, closing his eyes.

“Fine then. Go.”

Nami sits back on the edge of the barrel.

“No, you go. Admit that you like the new girl.”

“I don’t.” He doesn’t open his eyes.

“I’ve seen you staring at her. We’ve all seen you staring at her.”

“What, that a crime now?”

Nami fights the urge to roll her eyes, “No, but I’ve never seen you try so hard to avoid someone before.”

Zoro lets out a bark of laughter, hard and mirthless, “Yeah, so that must mean I like her.”

Nami cocks her head, “It means you feel something towards her. And I’d suggest you figure it out.”

“And how’d you propose I do that?”

Nami once again waves in your direction, “Go. Talk. To her.”

Zoro lets out another breath, eyes scanning across the ship, anywhere but towards where you’re still sitting and reading, finger flipping a page in a perfect, smooth, singular motion.

And Zoro’s not blind. Blunt though he may be at times and careless as he is about most material things, he can still appreciate beauty when he sees it. And you — there’s no denying that you’re beautiful. Your strange stillness aside, when you do move, it’s with a dancer’s lissome grace, fluid lines, not a single movement wasted. When you smile, it seems to light you up from the inside, and your words, though soft, carries the well-worn weight of river stones, glittering beneath the clear, spring stream of your voice.

There’s a sharpness in your eyes, a straightness to your spine, a way of carrying yourself as if you’re afraid that one wrong move might shatter you and the entire world around you.

Sometimes when he sees you, he wonders at the hands that had sculpted you this way. He wonders at your life before they’d picked you up in Loguetown, when you’d oh-so-silently slipped up the execution platform and helped Luffy down, all the while staying free of Smoker’s watchful gaze.

The few times he’s seen you fight, he can’t help wondering if you’ve eaten some kind of devil fruit as well. No human could be so fast as that. Or be so quiet. But then again, he’d fought Kuro, and they’d seen stranger things. Still, he marvels at the way you flicker in and out of sight, slipping around the edges of battle like a dark, haunting thing, and men would drop like flies beneath your quick, quiet hands. With nary a sound or shout before their eyes roll back and their breathing is no more.

On the instances when Sanji had asked about your past, your eyes had gone misty and dark, unfocused. You’d gone still, freezing for so long that Usopp would cough just to fill the silence. And then slowly, ever so slowly, you’d turn back towards them with a small, sad smile and say:

“There’s… not much to talk about. I grew up somewhere far away, where if you didn’t keep quiet and still, bad things would happen to you. And then when those bad things happened, if you weren’t quick — the quickest of all, you’d die.”

Bad things, huh? Zoro thinks as he makes his way towards you, a hand resting on the hilt of his swords. He comes to a stop next to you and leans against one of the white planters, casually peering over your shoulder at the book in your hands.

For a long moment, neither of you move. Then, Zoro clears his throat and forces himself to speak.

“Is it good?”

It takes you a second, but eventually, you turn towards him.

“The book? Yeah, I suppose.”

“Not exactly a glowing review.”

You laugh, a soft, breathy little thing as you look back down at the page.

“It's about a girl who falls into an enchanted sleep, and a prince who wakes her up with a kiss.”

“Must’ve been one hell of a kiss.”

“Yes, and one hell of a prince.”

Zoro finds himself chuckling, his shoulders loosening as he takes another breath.

“And then what?” he asks.

“And then… he asks her to marry him.”

You run your fingers along the page, smoothing your palm over the ink and parchment. Zoro watches you, wondering, always wondering.

“What’s she say?” and it’s then that he notices his own voice, hushed and low, barely a whisper.

You look back up at him and smile a smile a sphynx would have been proud of.

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten there yet.”

Zoro takes a breath, and the breath tastes distinctly different than all the breaths he’d taken before it. As if the world takes the breath with him, and some fundamental truth had shifted on the exhale.

The moment breaks, as moments are wont to do, when Sanji calls out for lunch and Zoro jerks out of his almost-reverie. You slowly close your book and rise to your feet, turning back to smile at him.

“C’mon, it’s lunchtime.”

Zoro nods and follows you into the kitchen, where Luffy and Usopp are already digging in, and Nami is pouring herself a drink. She spots the pair of you and catches Zoro’s eyes. A grin ticks at the edge of her lips but before she can say anything, you’re accosted by Sanji sweeping into a deep, flourishing bow, and ushering you towards the table, where he’d set your place in a manner fit for a princess.

“Where’s my setup?” Zoro asks as he drops into the seat next to you, cocking an eyebrow. Sanji shoots him an unimpressed look.

“I’m surprised you can use a fork and knife, moss-head. Just be grateful and eat up.”

Zoro scoffs but digs in nonetheless.

When next they dock, it’s on a rare, peaceful island — an island of light and books and learning, where the air smells of salt and ink and drying parchment, of unwritten words and untold stories. But it smells of a stillness too, and Zoro knows without having to ask that you’d like it here.

And you do.

He’s never seen you smile so much, never seen you so vibrant and full of life. You chat and laugh and read with a voracious hunger, and he finds himself drawn to this new, warm, moving side of you. He finds himself, more often than not, by your side, even when neither of you speak. And he basks in the comfort of the quiet that permeates the air when it’s just the two of you — him hanging in the hammock on deck, you reading by his side.

But now, there’s the soft tapping of your foot, the shuffle of pages when you flip forward to see what’s coming next, and of course the ever-present shush of the ocean as it washes against the Merry’s side.

The Log Pose needs two weeks to properly calibrate to the next island, so they’ve got time to kill.

On the fifth night, over dinner and drinks, Luffy asks the question that everyone’s been thinking since the day they’d all met you —

“So. Why’re you so still all the time? Not that it’s weird or anything — well, actually — it kind of is, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m just asking cause I'm curious!”

You look up from your half-finished wine but Zoro feels it happening, like the hush of a fan blade slicing through air, the gasp before a porcelain vase tips over and shatters. You stop. You stare. You’re frozen in every sense of the word. And he’s known you for long enough to know that you only go still as a reflex, only reach for it as a shield. Against what? He doesn’t quite know.

“It’s… something of a long story,” you say, your voice low and hoarse.

Luffy grins, smacking his lips as he sucks the meat off a chicken leg, “We’ve got tons of time! Right?” he looks around as if for validation, but everyone’s eyes are caught on you and your unnatural stillness.

Zoro shifts slightly in the seat next to you, opening his stance and turning towards you.

“Could do with a good story.”

Your eyes flash in his direction and he offers you the barest hint of a smile.

You relax, ever so slightly, drifting back in your seat, your glass cupped in the palms of your hands. And then, you begin to speak, your voice smooth and lilting, your words washing over them like the faint lull of the tides.

“When I was three, my father sold me for a barrel of beer.”

A dull clack echoes around the room and everyone turns to see Sanji hurriedly righting the thick stein he’s knocked over. Thankfully, it’d been empty.

“Sorry — I just — what?” he sounds furious but Usopp lays a hand across his arm and shakes his head.

You take a deep breath and continue, your voice oddly emotionless as you say, “The man who bought me took me to an island. It was… a dark place. A quiet place. I only learned its name after I escaped — an island called Elysium.”

Nami gasps before clapping her hands over her mouth.

“I’ve just — I’ve heard of that place before, but I thought… I thought it was just a made-up place.”

Luffy swallows hard, frowning, “What’s it like?”

Nami’s eyes flicker between you and Luffy, “Supposedly… it’s the home island for… for the most feared group of assassins in all the seas combined.”

Usopp’s eyebrows jerk up, “The most feared?”

A faint smile seeps across your lips like blood.

“Yes. The Shadows that Live.”

Everyone turns to look at you. Luffy picks up another drumstick.

“Whoa… cool name!”

Zoro hums, “I’ve heard of them before — but mostly, it was just an old wive’s tale about… shadow assassins who hunt in the dark. Mercenaries for hire. But… no one’s ever seen one before.”

“Because… once you see one, you’ll never live to tell the tale,” you say, your eyes now downcast and fixed on the glass in your hands.

“Then…” Usopp’s voice is soft, “What about… you?”

“I… I ran away.”

Silence greets you. But after a moment, Luffy spits out a bit of bone and uses it to pick at the space between his teeth, his eyes round.

“Wow! You must be pretty good to run away from an island full of shadow assassins!”

You almost laugh, his boundless trust hitting you like a punch to the stomach.

“So…” Sanji lets out a puff of silvery smoke, “the staying still thing… that’s just part of your training, yeah?”

You nod, “Something like that.”

Someday, you think, you’ll tell them about the hellscape that was Elysium island, of the long echoing halls, dark and still and silent. Of the mechanical beasts that hunted by sound and movement alone. Someday, you’ll let them know about the poisoned pomegranate seeds that they feed all the “recruits” to keep them hazy, of how you’d kept six of them suspended in your mouth and spat them all out when you’d finally made it far enough from the island to allow yourself to breathe.

“And… are these shadow assassins gonna come after us?” Nami asks, her voice careful and light.

You purse your lips, “I… I don’t know.”

Nami sighs, but a moment later, she moves to refill her drink with a slight shrug, “Well, just one more enemy to add to our growing list. Soon, we’re gonna have to post a sign-up sheet.”

At this, everyone laughs, and the tension snaps like a wounded spring.

Luffy burps loudly, patting his stomach, “I’m not worried — I mean, if you were able to run away from them once, that means you’re stronger than them, right?”

You pause, your hand hovering over the wine bottle. Zoro gently reaches over and refills your glass for you. You shift back into movement, casting him a small smile and taking a sip. The wine is cool and tangy as it hits the back of your throat. You breathe, and the world keeps spinning.

“I… I’m not sure — I’ve never fought… any of… them… before.”

“Guess we’ll find out if they try to come for you then — but you’ve got us now!” Luffy says, reaching for an apple and chomping into it, “ — Sho… you duon gotta wourry —” he licks his lips as he takes another huge bite before tossing the core towards the waste bin, “We’ve got your back!”

Nami makes a disgusted face, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, ugh.”

Sanji chuckles, tapping out his cigarette, “Yeah Luffy, mind your manners.” But his voice is full of laughter and you find yourself relaxing into the sway of the night, the swing of conversation. Beside you, Zoro refills his own glass and leans over to clink it against yours.

You turn, but he only raises his glass before taking a sip.

You mirror his movement, cradling the cup to your chest when you finish.

Later, he finds you by the tangerine trees, ghosting your fingers over their lush green leaves, dark enough to look black in the evening light.

“Hey.”

You turn, “Hi.”

Zoro sighs and looks out over the darkened waves, the moonlight refracted into a million shattered bits of sky.

“Luffy’s right, y’know.”

“What about?” you ask, joining him by the railings. The night air is cool and crisp. Behind you both, the island oozes with lamplight and laughter. Even from here, you can hear the joy, the peace that permeates the air here. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, you think, to stay here forever.

“If they come for you,” Zoro says, “we’ll have your back.”

You let out a small chuckle, looking down at your hands, “I know.”

“So,” he turns towards you, his earrings glinting in beneath the scimitar moon, “you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

You lick your lips, and instinctively, you reach for the stillness. All the days and weeks and months with the people around you have softened you, and for that, you know you should be thankful. Still, old habits die hard, and you have to clench your fists and dig your nails into your own palms to keep from freezing completely.

You take a shivering breath and force it out again.

“Fear’s a hard habit to break.”

At this, Zoro grunts, though it sounds something like consent. The moment stretches, long and soft and taffy-sweet.

He turns back towards the sea, “Yeah,” he says, and then —

“But we can take it slow.”

You swallow hard, passed the broken shards of forgotten words lodged in your throat (you find that they all somehow taste like thank you), and you nod. Warmth tickles your cheeks and you wonder why he’s said we instead of you — and later, lying in your bed at night, staring at the moon-slatted ceiling, you wonder if he was really talking about fear or if it was something else entirely.

You don’t get a lick of sleep that night.

The next few days pass in a light, repetitive blur. You and Zoro are sent on a few short shopping trips in the city, and you’re glad for something to do that involves movement. Shocking how quickly the body adapts once the weight it’d been holding on to is lifted.

You are still quiet, and he, the same; but the silence has shifted around you, and whereas before it’d been solid and steady, it’s now thrumming and charged with some unspoken energy.

Neither of you are blind to it; nor, it seems, is the rest of the crew.

Sanji’s taken to openly teasing Zoro about being with you all the time, complaining loudly that he can’t get a word in edgewise because Zoro refuses to leave you alone. Nami keeps on trying to drag you out for “girl's day” shopping trips, hinting at all the cute clothes you could get and how “green really suits your skin tone, y’know?”

Luffy and Usopp for their part, both just grin whenever they see you together — Luffy stoked at the fact that you seem more happy and talkative, Usopp gleeful at the way Zoro always seems so much softer when he’s next to you.

You’ve taken to watching him when he trains, sitting in the shade of the tangerine trees, a cold drink in your hand as Zoro runs through his katas. You content yourself with watching him flow through the movements, one and then another, and then another after that. He contents himself with your presence, knowing that you’re here, feeling your eyes as they skate down the length of his back or the width of his shoulders.

It’s a peaceful sort of companionship, even if it is living on borrowed time.

When you all wave the little island goodbye, it’s with heavy hearts and tearful smiles. It had treated you well, and you think you’d miss it. But adventure is as adventure does — it calls, beckoning to those with wandering hearts to listen.

The first week back at sea is a strange one, full of a ringing nostalgia. As if you’re simultaneously coming home and leaving one at the same time. Everyone is a bit quiet, except for Luffy, of course, who literally bounces off the freshly waxed planks, humming to himself as he sits on top of the great ram’s figurehead.

“Is he ever still?” you ask one day, sometime in the second week.

To which Zoro makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh, “You’ve been here a while. What’d you think?”

You sigh softly and tear your eyes away from the bright, shivering ball of energy that is your captain towards the far horizon. A sliver of uncertainty twines through you and your breath slows. Zoro glances at you, now long since attuned to your subtle shifts in movement and stillness. He narrows his eyes.

“What is it?”

You shake yourself back into the moment, forcing a smile.

“Nothing. I think…” your words fade as the feeling twists in you again, knife-sharp and stinging. You clear your throat and reach up to brush away a strand of hair. Skin grazes skin as Zoro’s hand meets yours in the same gesture and you both freeze — hands held up, his finger caught against the bend of your cheekbone, your fingers curling over his.

Time slows, slackens around the pair of you, and the moment stays, suspended in space — garnet dark and perfect.

Neither of you dare to breathe. It’s then that you realize how close Zoro is — close enough for you to see the entire ocean reflected in his eyes: big and dark and so endless it nearly unmoors you. Close enough for you to feel the warmth of his skin; his body, emanating heat. You’d often wondered, in the long hours of watching him train, at the glistening copper of his skin and the light-kissed quality, if the sun himself favored Zoro as well.

Like this, it’s easy to believe that beneath his skin, there pulsed something like sunlight.

“Look! It’s an island! It’s an island!”

And just like that, the moment shatters. Time slips back into motion and you pull away from each other, breathless, with warm cheeks and thundering hearts, feeling somehow lightning-touched and static-ridden.

You take half a step back, reaching up to press a hand to your mouth as if to stop something from tumbling through. But what? You can’t really say.

Zoro tips back as well, whipping around to help Usopp and Sanji with the sails as Luffy continues to holler, waving his hat. On the horizon, you see it looming — the silhouette of an island. You lower your palm from your lips to your heart and wonder what kind of island it will be.

Deserted — seems to be the answer when you all make landfall. The island is quiet, but the occasional chirp and cricket staves off your nerves as you all wander cautiously about the beach, squinting into the dense forest that seems to encompass the whole of the island.

“Looks like a good place to camp for the night!” Luffy says, grinning as he plops down on the sand.

Sanji nods, dusting off his hands, “We’ll need some wood for a fire, but I reckon I can whip up some grilled fish from the fresh catch.”

You wrap your arms around yourself and look around, glancing back at the darkening horizon.

“Something the matter?” Zoro’s voice is soft as he helps you carry some of the camping supplies from the ship.

“No… yes… I —” you look up at him, pursing your lips, “I don’t know. I’ve just… this island is…”

Zoro looks around, his dark eyes scanning the thick swath of forest just beyond the beach, “Too quiet?”

You let out a tiny laugh, “Yeah, something like that.”

He nods, “Don’t worry, I’m — we’re here.”

And he leaves it at that, hoisting a stack of wood over his shoulders and going to help Nami with the fire. You watch him with a smile, wondering what on earth you’d done to deserve this level of caring, this magnitude of kindness. Soon, dinner is had and drinks are shared and laughter is spilled like so many silver coins over the white sand beach. The lull of the evening takes over you all, and before long, Luffy and Usopp are slumped over each other, snoring loudly.

You stare into the depths of the fire and try to tamp down the growing dread festering inside your bones. All those years of holding still, of breathing and listening and feeling — you shake yourself — no, not all stillness is a bad thing. Not all silences are made the same.

“You’re doing it again,” Zoro’s voice almost makes you jump. Instead, you turn, finding him next to you as he nurses a half-drunk bottle of wine in his hands. He doesn’t look at you, but there’s a loose grin hinged across his lips.

“Sorry,” you say, ducking your head, feeling a now familiar heat creep into your cheeks that has nothing to do with the dwindling bonfire.

“Don’t be,” Zoro takes another drink, “But I told you… you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“I know… and I’ve said before —”

“Fear’s a hard habit to break,” Zoro echoes back at you, finally glancing over and catching your eye.

You breathe out, looking down at your own hands, “Yeah… but I’m trying.”

You both fall silent, and for a while, the only sounds are the crackle of the dying flames, the shush of the ocean waves, and the occasional snores from the rest of your crew. It’s late — later than you realized.

“Do you… want me to grab a book for you?”

You smile, “No, I don’t think it’s bright enough.”

“I could restoke the fire.”

“No, it’s — it’s okay.”

“Alright.”

A bird coos the distance.

“Why don’t you tell me a story?” you ask, turning to look at Zoro proper, shifting till your body is facing him.

In the faint light, you can see the edge of his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“You’re asking the wrong guy — you should wait till the Great Captain Usopp’s awake.”

“Yeah, but I want to hear one from you.”

Zoro sighs, his eyes fixed on the last of the flickering flames. He takes another swig of wine before he starts to speak, his voice low and a bit stilted, but he pushes on. He tells you about his childhood, the village he’d trained in, the doujou in the middle of the wood, his friend who he’d never beat — not even once.

He tells you about he early mornings and the late nights, and how the world had seemed large enough to conquer.

“… And then… there came a morning when she didn’t show up… and sensei came and told me that there’d been an accident.”

His voice almost breaks then, and your eyes catch on the shining white hilt of the Wadou Ichimonji — his thumb pressing against the guard, running along it’s hard metal edge.

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

Zoro shrugs, “Don’t be.”

You nod, “Still.”

Zoro slates you a lopsided smirk, “So. Now you know my tragic backstory too.”

You laugh, leaning back to cast your eyes up towards the sky, “And you know mine — it’s almost like we’re friends or something.”

Zoro lets out a long breath, “Yeah… or something.”

There’s a tightness to his voice that makes your skin tingle and it takes everything you have not to look over at him, to try and see if he’s looking at you, watching you the way you’d imagined him to be. You fancy you can feel his gaze on your face, but you close your eyes instead.

You let yourself fall into the warm haze of sleep, and for a while you drift there, your mind sifting through shards of memories and slivers of sound, casting them against the backs of your eyelids as you slowly slide into the darkness of dreams.

You wake up to a gasping stillness — the silence pressing in on your eardrums like thumbs, the darkness around you so complete it’s almost a solid thing. You freeze, your breath hissing to a halt inside you. Then distantly, ever so distantly, you hear the sounds of battle — metal clashing against metal, the hard thud of boots against flesh. You shake your head and reach up to clap your hands over your ears and only then do your senses return to you, snapping back as if you’d been abruptly shunted back into your earthly body.

“Gum Gum — Pistol!”

“Seize her!”

You whip into movement, fast as a flash, dashing away, hoping against hope that it would draw your attackers far enough from your crewmates.

“No one… ever… leaves us…”

The voice is serpentine and susurrus, sinking into your skin like sharpened teeth, but before it can reach you, it’s cut short by a bright flash of silver.

You gasp, whirling around, reaching for the nearest pulse, instinct taking over as you sink your fingers into muscle and flesh. The rush of blood thrumming beneath your fingertips comes too easy, even as a familiar scent accosts you. A moment later, your hands are being pinned above you, and thick, rough bark is digging into your wrists as Zoro stands before you, a sword in one hand, the other holding you still.

His eyes are a little wild and a lot worried. There’s a ring of red rawness around his neck, thin trickles of blood trailing along his jugular, disappearing into the wide scoop neck of his shirt.

“Hey, look at me.”

You nearly whimper, struggling against him, fear still coursing through you like a drug but Zoro is strong enough to keep you held. Behind him, you can see the rest of the crew fending off several shadowy figures, Usopp waving a torch, screaming at the top of his lungs, Luffy whooping as he whacks another figure with his fist.

“Z-Zoro?”

“Yeah, it’s me — eyes up here.”

You swallow in a breath, and then another, and you feel the bright thrum of urgency leave you as your body slowly falls slack. And then you’re slipping, and he’s looping an arm around you to keep you upright.

“Th-they’re here — they —”

“They’re gone — we got rid of them — hey.”

Zoro takes you by the shoulders and gives you a gentle shake. Finally, your eyes catch on his and your gaze holds. You see yourself reflected in them, stark and terrified, but alive — somehow alive.

“They’re gone,” he says, his voice soft and low by your ear, his arm still wrapped around your middle. Shivers wrack your body as you bury your face in his shoulder. He smells of steel and skin and the metallic tang of blood. It’s then that you remember — the wounds on the sides of his neck. The marks in the shape of your hands —

You jerk back and feel a sticky wetness against your cheek.

“Zoro, I hurt you!”

At this, he scoffs, pulling back far enough to flash you a look.

“This is nothing. C’mon.”

He offers you a hand, and after a second you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Wordlessly, he presses his palm to the small of your back, his arm extended to keep you steady as you both make your way back towards camp.

“Phew! That was a workout!” Luffy is saying just as you both reach the outskirts of the now-darkened bonfire. Sanji is pulling out a cigarette, striking a match, and first lighting the end before tossing it into the remains of the firewood, fanning it up into a slow flame.

Nami and Usopp both look a bit shaken, but none worse for the wear.

They all pivot to look at you.

You go still against Zoro’s side, uncertainty flooding through you. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s fingers as they press into the bend of your waist, solid and steady.

Then, Usopp coughs, “C’mon y’all — the Shadows that Live? Psh! More like — the Shadows that Fled, am I right? Yeah? Didya see the way I sent ‘em runnin’ with my brand new fire-powered explosion rounds?”

Nami chuckles and Sanji follows suit, shaking his head and letting out a thin wisp of smoke. Luffy’s grins at you, pumping a fist in the air, clapping his right shoulder.

“See? Told you we’d have your back! We are your crew, after all!”

Weakness seeps into your limbs as you nod, hot pin-pricks of tears itching at your lower lashes. You lower your head and rub at your eyes before looking back up again with a smile. Sanji grimaces as he looks over Zoro.

“Got something on your neck, mate.”

Zoro glares but you glance over and feel your stomach twist with guilt.

“Sorry… I can clean that up for you. They’re not deep but they do need to be bandaged up.”

Zoro wipes down his sword before sheathing it and motioning towards the ship. Behind you, you can hear Nami yawning and saying something about catching up on some more sleep and Sanji reassuring her about having the last watch anyway.

The kitchen is still dark, but the dusty dawn sweeps against the far horizon and neither of you bother to turn the lights on. You carefully set the first aid kit on the kitchen counter and collect the supplies as Zoro leans back against the edge and folds his arms. You work in near silence, reaching up to first wipe the thin threads of drying blood before tending to the tiny, crescent-shaped puncture wounds.

You press an alcohol-soaked cotton ball against one of them and feel Zoro wince.

“Sorry.”

“I’m fine.”

You bite your lips, “If this had been a bit deeper or a few inches over —”

“But it wasn’t. So it’s fine.”

You don’t look up at him but you can feel his eyes on you. Your movements are fluid and sure; you’d clearly done this before.

“Hey, look at me.”

You freeze, eyes slowly gliding up the planes and divots of his neck, slipping up the line of his jaw, so sharp it might’ve been turned on a diamond cutter’s lathe. Your breath hitches as you finally meet his eyes, and there’s a dark, knowing glint behind them that makes your stomach flip.

“I’m fine.”

And for the second time in a handful of hours, you’re caught by the realization of your closeness — only a breath of space between you. There’s a crimp at the corner of his mouth that looks dangerously like a smile and then you’re tipping forward, a thumb reaching up to trace the line of his bottom lip once —

The movement acts like a trigger, and suddenly, he is leaning in and the breath of space disappears.

For all your life of stillness, you thought you’d learned to appreciate the depths and widths of movement. But nothing could’ve prepared you for this — for the push and pull of lips on lips, for the force and friction of skin against skin. For the gasp and hiss, for the breath and kiss.

For the feeling of his large palm as it settles along the swallow’s-nest bend of your neck, the way his thumb runs along your jaw like tracing the guard of his beloved sword, tilting your mouth towards him. For the way your heart might flutter like a tiny, caged bird, or the way you might feel his heart thumping like a fist from his chest to yours.

For the way his voice rolls over your name like a ship at sea; for the way it would shake your body from your bones and leave you more liquid than solid in his arms. For how you never used to think your story would be a love story, but then you realize that every story is a love story if caught in the right moment, in the right light.

And here, breaking apart from Zoro, with a thick, stolen streak of lemon-yellow sunlight leaking in from the kitchen window — that’s exactly what it feels like.

“Oh,” is all you have the strength to say.

Zoro, in all his solid brilliance and quiet audacity, laughs.

You taste the smile on your own lips before you realize you’re smiling. But when you try to bury your face in his neck, he winces slightly as you brush his still-fresh wounds.

“Crap, I forgot about these.”

Zoro chuckles as you hurry to press a few small bandages to the wounds.

“It’s okay. So did I.”

You finish dressing his wounds in silence, though this silence is markedly different from every other silence that had ever existed between you. There’s ease and tension, both, and when you’re finally finished, Zoro takes both your hands in his.

“So…” you say, unsure suddenly of where to look.

Zoro’s laugh is just as soft, just as uncertain.

“So.”

You try to look out the window, but by now, the dawning sun is so bright that it temporarily blinds you and you jerk back. Zoro smiles, reaching up to run his thumbs along your closed eyelids before dropping them to hook around your wrists again.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?” he asks, quiet as always.

You purse your lips and let your lashes flutter open. You find him watching you. Heat crests up your shoulders and into your cheeks, and suddenly, the exhaustion of the night before saps at your limbs. You sigh.

“Right now? Not really.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, sounding as relieved as you feel.

You bite your lips and cast your gaze shyly across his face, your bird-wing heartbeat still flapping in your chest. You fight the urge to go still, to reach for that shield that has always protected you before. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s thumbs tracing circles along the insides of your wrists.

“Can I ask for something else, though?”

“What is it?”

You reach up a finger, nudging one of his golden earrings. You don’t miss the way he shivers, or the way his breath quickens in his chest.

“Kiss me again.”

Zoro grins, tugging you towards him, leaning into the curve of your palm as he does.

And does.

And does again.

reqs are: temporarily closed

but feedback is much loved and appreciated!!!

[sayoneee]

☆ POISON

“miss her, kiss her, love her, wrong move you’re dead, that girl is poison” - bell biv devoe (2.2k)

contains: luke castellan x daughter of aphrodite! reader. acquaintances to friends to secretish lovers. silena + drew mentions. during tlt.

kashaf’s note: u cant tell me a group of teenagers lived together at summer camp and no one had secret parties. dont @ me for the 90s music references (+ i imagine avantika vandanapu as silena, and momona tamada as drew)

i. and if there was a problem / yo, i'll solve it

“CASTELLAN?” YOU APPROACHED him slowly, tone cautious as if you were speaking to a wounded animal, although in this case, maybe you were, as you reached for his bruised knuckles, remaining persistent, even as he tried to withdraw his hands out of your grasp. “why’d you do that?”

“did i need a reason?” there is a forced jocularity to his words, a well-practiced mask he is never seen without, and you cringe slightly, your gaze catching the grimace that twists his lips. his attempt at a ‘roguish’ grin falls flat, the expression a discordant note against the backdrop of his injuries. luke’s already busted lip splits open, a thin line of crimson carving a river down his chin. he moves to wipe it off the back of his arm, but you’ve already pulled off the bandana tying up your hair (a birthday present from a half-sibling) and begun rubbing at his face.

luke’s eyes widened at the gesture.

despite being tentative acquaintances since your arrival, you’re still annoyed that luke castellan continues to underestimate just how much of his heart he wears on his sleeve — or rather, just how well you manage to see past his facade. his blatant lie hangs in the air, unacknowledged. instead, you deliberately shift your gaze to the purples and blacks that mar his knuckles, setting about wrapping them with your bandana, obscuring the damage.

“i could’ve done that myself,” luke says, amused, his words lightly appreciative. still, at your answering glare, he tosses his hands in the air in surrender as ‘ice ice baby’ continues in the background, uninterrupted, “but thank you, though.”

“i’m no apollo kid, but it’ll do,” you shrug instead of accepting the gratitude, tugging him to his feet, ensuring to grab his uninjured hand, and hauling him outside. 

“you’re no apollo kid, and you decide to take the injured man away from where the apollo kids are actually gathered,” luke muses, once again entertained with himself (was there any other emotion this boy could experience besides amusement?), once the lights of the apollo cabin are so far behind you, neither of you could fully see each other.

“you’ll live,” you say, scowling at him through the darkness, forgetting he couldn’t actually see you.

“and you’re moody for a daughter of aphrodite,” he says, still holding onto your hand as he trails after you.

you stop in your tracks, pinch the bridge of your nose, count to three, and finally turn to luke, who still has his stupidly pleased-with-himself expression on his face. “luke castellan, if you don’t end up dying of some tragic fate or the other i will hunt you down myself.”

“duly noted.”

“holy hera, do you even want to know where i’m taking you?”

“nah, i think the mystery really adds some suspense.”

“that’s it, i give up,” you say, before beginning to drag him back to the apollo cabin, when he plants his feet in the dirt ground firmly, grinning crookedly at you as the moonlight finally shines through the clouds, suddenly bathing him in a luminescent glow.

“nah, c’mon, let’s go to your spot.”

you glare at him, watching how his stupid grin only seems to grow in size, an annoyingly endearing trait. with a sigh, you continued to drag him along, scowling each time he tried to make a quip.

“what if we get to your spot, and i find out this was all just a ploy to murder me?” luke muses out loud, looking thoughtful for once.

“do you seriously believe that if i was gonna murder you, i wouldn’t have done it by now?” you say, pausing when he shrugged in agreement, “we’re here though, whiney baby.” 

luke’s eyebrows rose as he took in the secluded area near the dunes, finally meeting your gaze again. “aw, i can’t believe you just planned out our first date.”

“i seriously don’t know what any of my half-siblings see in you.”

“so you’ve discussed me then.”

“shut up, i dragged you all the way here, because even though i know you like attention, i don’t think you wanted the attention you were getting from punching that poor hephaestus kid in the jaw,” you say shockingly sincerely, startling both yourself and luke.

luke doesn’t say anything, letting what seems like a confession hang in the air, instead, sits down near the water, and rubs a hand across his jaw, watching you as you follow suit, sitting next to him. 

after spending what seems like minutes in silence, watching the waves lap at the shore, luke finally speaks, staring out at the horizon, his tone slightly hollow, and devoid of all things you have come to label as luke castellan, looking eerily similar to the night he had returned from his infamous quest, “heroes aren’t meant to be happy.”

you drew your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your head. “i know — achilles, orpheus, theseus…” you trail off.

“and hercules,” luke adds, almost melancholy. 

“i think i’ve pretty much accepted i’ll die young,” you say, your words coming out in nothing but a whisper despite the two of you being alone.

luke nods in solidarity, lost in thought. “it shouldn’t have to be like this,” he finally says, voice hardening.

ii. talking sweet and looking fine / i get kinda hectic inside

“okay, for this technique, i’ll need a partner,” luke says, looking straight at you. “can you come up here?”

deciding to oblige him, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly, smiling as you joined him in front of the other campers, who had begun whispering when he called out to you. in the crowd, just past your half-siblings looks of shock, you can see the stolls passing around a wad of cash. 

luke addresses the crowd once more, “i need everyone to be paying close attention here, we’ll be demonstrating how to parry, or counterblock for the newcomers.”

as both of you get into position, luke smiles, “don’t forget to go easy on me.”

you laughed, “don’t bet on it, castellan.”

your demonstration ends up feeling like eons, as the two of you continue to dance around each other, parrying and jabbing, and lunging, and striking, and parrying. both of you are panting, your faces flushed as you continue, and just when it seems like you have the upper hand, luke side steps, and easily parries your finishing blow, disarming you in the process.

you laugh as you yield, loving the exhilaration from the fight, but when the two of you face the campers once more, more than half of the crowd is slack-jawed. 

luke, ever the showman, can’t resist a grin, “not only was that your lesson to not underestimate aphrodite cabin, but also to show you the level we’re trying to get you guys to. now, partner up and spread out.”

before you can turn back to address luke again, drew is suddenly at your side. 

“what the fuck was that?” drew hisses, grasping your elbow and leading you away from the training session in full swing, pulling you into your cabin, where silena sits on your bed (still in her armor), clearly awaiting this impromptu confrontation.

“what was what?” you choose to feign innocence, examining your nails before glancing up to see the twin expressions of horror on both silena and drew’s faces. 

“do not act dumb,” drew eyes you coolly, “it’s so beneath you.”

“i’m not acting dumb,” you rolled your eyes at the both of them.

“yes you —”

“you and castellan,” silena interjects, “we want details, now.”

“what details even are there to give?”

silena grabs drew’s arm, pulling her back from apparently nearly pouncing on you. 

drew rolls her eyes at the hand on her arm, and then focuses on you, “you’re literally our next head counselor and you and castellan had never so much looked at each other until this week and now he’s asking you to help demonstrate training techniques, like hello?”

silena snapped her fingers in agreement, “c’mon, you can’t deny that something didn’t happen.”

“nothing did,” you crossed your arms across your chest.

“you know what,” drew says, “if you wanna be like this fine. come find me when you finally decide to — i don’t know — talk to your sisters?” she storms out of the cabin, leaving you alone with silena, who sighs, gives you an apologetic look and goes after drew. 

“well, that was a shit show.”

you whirl around to see your head counselor standing at the entry of the cabin, poised as ever, not a hair out of place as she stood, examining her manicure, looking bored, as usual. 

“couldn’t agree more,” you sigh, sitting on your bed, head in your hands. 

your head counselor takes a seat beside you, “look, i don’t care for whatever petty drama just unfolded, you’ll get over it, daughters of aphrodite and all,” she waves a hand in the air, “— but for now, we have more pressing issues. i’m gonna leave for college soon, and the entire cabin knows you’re my successor.”

you nod as she paused, meeting your gaze, and you can’t help but examine the perfect shape of her eyeliner, scanning her entire picture-perfect face in an attempt to discern her mood.

“i don’t care whatever it is you have going on with castellan, but you need to complete the rite of passage, before you become head counselor.”

“the rite of passage?” you asked, having only heard the phrase in hushed conversations around camp, the knot in your stomach tightening as she continued.

“no child of aphrodite is a true child of aphrodite without having broken their first love’s heart,” is all she offers as an explanation, completely straight-faced. “castellan is perfect for your rite of passage.”

your eyebrows furrow as you consider her words, and with a final nod, and gentle squeeze of your arm, she leaves you with both her legacy and your mother’s legacy in your hands. 

“oh, and before i forget, whoever doesn’t do it always ends up cursed.”

iii. now let me pray to keep you from / the perils that will surely come

luke’s shoulder brushing against yours has turned out to be extremely distracting, and now you can understand why your cabin is more notorious for breaking hearts, rather than falling in love. you can’t seem to focus on anything except how close his hand is to yours, even the golden hue of the fire or the sing-alongs can’t divert your attention. 

the distance between the two of you grows imperceptibly smaller when luke suddenly clears his throat, on the verge of saying something, when a twig snaps behind the two of you, causing you to jump apart and look at the intruder. 

annabeth is standing behind the two of you, looking faintly apologetic, but also terrified. “sorry if i interrupted you guys,” she offers, rubbing her arm.

you share a glance with luke, nodding at him. “you weren’t — luke can always talk to me later,” you say, offering her your trademark smile.

annabeth nodded, “thank you,” as luke gently squeezed your hand before getting up to comfort her.

“don’t thank me, sweetheart.”

you’re at your usual spot when luke rejoins you, running a hand through his curls. “sorry,” he says, “someone left a spider in athena cabin, and no one could kill it.”

you chuckled, “if it wasn’t a total accident, i’d bet money it was travis and connor.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up at the mention of his siblings, “i think you’re spending too much time around them to pick up on their habits.”

“or maybe, i’m spending too much time around you,” you offer, smirking at him, trying to ignore the funny feeling in your chest as he smiles genuinely at you.

“i like to say i’m an acquired taste,” luke shrugs, sneaking a glance at you as you laugh at him. 

“i think i’ve acquired that taste,” you say, without thinking, before realizing how phenomenally stupid that sounded.

luke smiled widely, “y’know, if you weren’t a daughter of aphrodite, i would’ve told you how corny that was —” you shoved him here, “— ow, let me finish, but i actually am really glad to hear that.”

“no wonder,” you smirked, “i can practically hear your heart beating out of your chest.”

“okay, look who’s confident all of a sudden.”

you shut him up with a soft kiss that has him seeing stars. 

iv. i know what’s weighing on your mind / you can be sure i know my part

“again, what the hell is going on with you and castellan?” silena asks one early morning before breakfast, birds chirping as she’s lining her eyes with kajal, glancing at the mirror in her hand as she sits at the top of her bed.

“nothing.”

“i literally saw you guys making out and had to scrub my eyes out with soap,” drew adds, looking extremely disgusted at the thought of relieving that experience, as she paints a fresh coat of nail polish. 

“fine, you’re right,” you concede, curling your eyelashes. 

“don’t you have to do the rite of passage, though?” drew asks, pausing to look up at you.

“i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you say slowly, setting the eyelash curler down on the vanity.

“excuse me?” your head counselor has her hands on her hips, the annoyed expression on her face marring her perfect features, towering over you as she stands in front of your bed.

“i said, i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you enunciate, looking up at her, maintaining eye contact.

the temperature of the cabin seemed to drop ten degrees, and for a minute or so, your stare remained unbroken until she shrugged. “your decision... but don’t say i didn’t warn you,” before dramatically whirling around and heading to the pavilion.

silena gave you a look as drew arched her brow, and you simply shrugged in response.

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[norrizzandpia]

Hi :))

How about angry love confession in the rain with Lando and then a kiss in the rain??!

Olive (LN4)

Summary: After a massive loss, Lando and Y/n find themselves losing sight of the love they once shared. A ghost town in a house they once imprinted their love in is riddled in pain and grief. Right at the edge of the cliff, ready to give up and part ways, an anniversary pulls them back together and reunites them in what they once had.

Warnings: THIS IS VERY TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES, depictions of a miscarriage, language, massive angst, HAPPY ENDING

Note: it is not a very angry love confession im sorry :( but i kind of took creative freedom here! I hope you like it! I also lied THIS IS NOT A TWO PART JUST ONE because it ends positively

I could be a good mother and I want to be your wife. - Not a lot, just forever by Adrianne Lenker

There wasn’t necessarily a moment Y/n could pinpoint as the ending of the love her and Lando had. There were fights they had that could’ve hinted at their falling out, but it seemed as though one day, she woke up and the house they lived in together was just one of ghosts and pain.

The walls that were once filled with laughter and happiness now creaked with silence. This was almost worse than a complete break up. This was hell on Earth. This was living with the man she loved more than anything and knowing he no longer loved her in the way she did, lying to himself to try and salvage something that wasn’t there.

It was almost as if they hated the fact that, at some point, they loved each other. Lando couldn’t dare to look at her, worried if he did then he would realize how much he used to feel for her, and Y/n never spoke unless needed, not wanting to alert him of her presence and see him tense in the way he did.

It was tragic and it was sorrowful and it wasn’t love.

THREE YEARS EARLIER

Y/n set the last box down, staring at the empty room and smiling. His arms surprised her as they winded their way around her waist.

He nuzzled into her neck and kissed softly at the skin, “What a beautiful home for my beautiful girl.”

She blushed, “Lan, it’s your home too. It’s ours.”

She yelped as he twirled her around in his arms, face coming into view and oh so close. He nipped at her nose, giggles ensuing from the two, “Say that again.”

Her arms crossed over his neck, “It’s our home.”

Lando sighed and let his eyes fall to the space behind her, “Three years it took us to move in together.”

She tutted, “Three years it took you to convince me to move to Monaco.”

His dimples gave way and her heart warmed. The deep divots on his skin always peeked out when he was talking to her, she thought of them as a physical sign of his adoration.

She traced over them and Lando stared down at her, Y/n unknowing, as his body drowned in the love he had for her. He wouldn’t want to move in with anyone else. When he pictured his life, it was her standing in this room with him.

Their bedroom.

“How long do you think until a little you and me runs around here?” He whispered, grabbing her attention once more.

Y/n’s eyes lightly fluttered down to her stomach, “Not long I hope.”

A mischievous grin deepened his dimples and she knew what he was going to say before the words even fell from his mouth.

”Want to try now?”

No bed in the room, he dragged her down to the kitchen and set her upon the counter. Their first memory in their house together.

PRESENT

”Excuse me,” She whispered, a slight roughness to her voice only a lack of sleep could explain.

Lando didn’t move.

She huffed, “Lando,”

His head turned and his eyes latched onto the wall behind her, “What?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, “Please move.”

His head gave two glances to the left and right before he shrugged, “It’s a small bathroom, Y/n. I can’t move.”

”You’re standing in the middle of the walkway, Lando. I can’t get through to get ready for bed.” She gave, eyes rolling when he wouldn’t budge.

Lando snapped, “Jesus, Y/n, why don’t you just take your shit down the hall to the other bathroom. Get ready there. Problem solve, please.”

Her eyes turned cold and when he finally met them, he couldn’t recognize the woman he once loved.

“Fuck you. You of all people should know why I won’t step foot in there. You won’t. Why should I?” She said, pushing past him forcefully to get where she needed to be.

He grunted, “Don’t fucking push me. What are we? Five?”

She chuckled, “That’s rich coming from you.”

Lando’s eyes rolled, “Oh, come on. Really? You’re gonna fucking throw that at me?”

She put her toothpaste against the bristles of the brush and gave him a quick look before going silent and letting the cool mint taste shut her up.

He grumbled, “Fucking silent treatment. Classic.”

Lando slammed the door shut, random mutters of annoyance under his breath as he walked away.

Y/n stared at the white paint as it chipped away, having been slammed many times before. And only when she turned back to stare at her reflection did she notice the tears down her cheeks.

She could leave, there was nothing stopping her, but what she didn’t want to admit was the love still there that she couldn’t let go of.

THREE YEARS EARLIER

”You don’t think it’s weird we’re trying for a baby when we aren’t even engaged yet, right?” Y/n asked as she sat at the counter, the morning breeze coming in through the main bay window and keeping small strands of her hair out of her face.

Lando’s back was to her as he hesitated, “No, I don’t think so. Lots of couples do it.”

Her eyebrows knitted together, “Are you sure? I feel like they’re all at least engaged.”

A plate of pancakes was clutched in his grip when he turned around, a small smile on his face as he looked at her. He set the food down and pushed her hair off her shoulder, “We aren’t other couples, baby. We can do things on our own terms.”

She nodded, “Maybe, but…” She trailed off.

His mouth was filled as he murmured, “But what?”

She poked her food around with her fork when she whispered, “But what if I want to get married?”

Lando stopped eating, practically stopped breathing altogether. He took a few seconds before resuming his prior movements as if nothing happened, “We can talk about it.”

His lack of enthusiasm made her retract into herself. He wanted a baby, but he didn’t want marriage seemingly.

Why?

PRESENT

”So, how are you? I haven’t seen you since before it happened, Y/n.” Her best friend, Carter, asked.

Y/n blinked at the girl across from her, willing away tears, “I’m doing better.”

Carter stared at her skeptically, “What about Lando? How’s he holding up?”

Her mouth moved down a bit and Carter knew. What the couple had been through was hard enough and her worst fear was for her best friend to lose the man she loved to it. They were young, too young, and what could’ve made them stronger only destroyed them.

Carter’s hand reached across the table and clutched Y/n’s when her mouth began to move in a response, but failed.

She took a deep breath, “I’m not sure. We aren’t really talking right now. It’s been hard on us.”

Carter nodded, “Of course, it has. Of course.”

Y/n looked around the coffee shop and smiled at the times her and Lando used to make trips in the early morning just to get the hot liquid. She met Carter’s gaze, “I’m hoping we can somehow make it through.”

The implication of that sentence was shattered, Carter’s eyebrows raised, “You don’t think you can?”

Y/n picked at her nails, “We just had massive problems before it happened and then… Well, it happened, and it was so much to work through. We just crumbled under the sheer amount of shit to talk through. It sounds stupid, I know, for how in love we were. But, by the time we got through the grieving, the problems had been so long suppressed, we just hated each other.”

Carter dipped her head down to catch Y/‘s eyes, “But, what if that was just the grieving. What if you never hated each other and you were both just trying to get through your own sadness. What if you aren’t even done grieving.”

Y/n shook her head, “We’re so far gone, Car. I don’t ever see him even giving me the light of day to talk through it.”

”Lando loves you, Y/n. He always has and he always will. He’s just in pain.” Carter tried, but Y/n snapped.

”So am I.”

A silence passed between them before Y/n dropped her head, muttering an apology for her tone. Carter just shook her head and reassured her friend. Though, in the back of her mind, she noted the way Y/n was behaving. The girl wasn’t the same and with all the loss she was experiencing, Carter couldn’t blame her.

TWO YEARS PRIOR

”LANDO!” Y/n screeched from the top of the stairs, running down them so fast she was worried of tripping.

Lando came running to her, concern evident on his face. When they met in the downstairs hallway and she seemed untouched, he cocked his head.

”What’s going on, baby?” He pulled her into his arms, checking the top of her head for any injuries.

”Lan,” She started, but his eyes were already on the object grasped in her palm.

He had felt it poking against his stomach when he leaned forward to look at her scalp and the infamous color of pink at the tip told him what news she was about to give.

His face lifted, “No,”

She nodded with a smile, “I’M PREGNANT!”

He screamed, a girlish one she giggled at, and picked her up, twirling her around. When he set her down, they jumped around together, laughing and yelping out in happiness.

”BABY! THERE’S A BABY!” He yelled before grabbing her face and kissing her sweetly. He poured his love for her into it, wanting her to know how happy he was to share this with her. He wanted to reassure her that he’d be there every step of the way, that he’d love her every step of the way. The softness of his hands on her body and his plump lips enveloping hers told her what he wanted them to.

When they pulled back, his eyes sparkled and he put his hand over her stomach.

Glistening in his eyes, he stared upon the woman that was the rest of his life and rubbed gently over her shirt, “We’re having a kid together.”

She nodded, “We are, Lan.”

His face nuzzled in her hair when he hugged her and whispered, “I’ve never wanted anything more. I love you so much, Y/n.”

PRESENT

”Your love is conditional, Lando. It always has been and it always will be.” Y/n yelled, anger radiating off her as she stared at him.

Lando’s hands clutched his hair, “You’ve never loved me for who I was, Y/n!”

She went quiet, heavily taken aback by his statement. When she came into this conversation, her only goal was to try and address the problems they’d had before everything they went through. She wanted Carter to be right. For their distance to be just grief and pain, for them to have a fighting chance. But, he only met her with hostility and defensiveness. It was bound to escalate, but not to this. Not to what he just accused her of.

Tears found their way down her cheeks, “Lando, I have loved you since the moment we met. I have loved you for you, not your money or your status. I have loved every part of you with truth and honesty. I have not put six years of my life into you based on a superficial love. You were my everything, Lan.” She got quiet, “I’ve defended you even when you were wrong, celebrated you even when you failed, cheered you on when you didn’t believe in yourself, pulled you back up when you’d fallen down. I have given my life to you. Don’t you dare look at me and tell me I never loved you for who you were. That was all I ever did. You wanted me to move to Monaco, albeit with some hesitance, I did. You wanted me to quit my job so I could come to every race, I was there. You didn’t want to get married, but I did, so we didn’t. You wanted a baby, I did too, and I gave that to you. I’m sorry if my failure in growing her has made you think I don’t love you for you, but some things I just can’t fucking control.”

By the end of her words, she was choking it all out, sobs emitting from her and pain the only thing she could communicate. Her last few sentences were said with screams, right in his face to try and make him hear her.

Hear her, he did, but he produced no response as he stared at her blankly.

Even as she pleaded for him, he couldn’t deliver.

“Fuck you, Lando.” She yelled before walking upstairs and slamming the bedroom door shut.

ONE YEAR EARLIER

”I love you, Lan.” Y/n whispered, his hand clutched in hers as they sat in the examination room.

He smiled at her, his dimples not appearing, “I love you too, Y/n.”

They stared at each other, stress and fear etched into the lines of their faces when the doctor walked in.

The somber look on his face made Y/n sit up, “No,”

He sat down, “Unfortunately, the baby didn’t make it. I am so very sorry for your loss. There was a problem with the-”

”What?” Lando whispered, his grip on Y/n’s hand loosening.

She looked at him as his finger slipped from hers, but he refused to look at her.

“No.” He said, adamant his worst nightmare wasn’t coming true. He stood from his chair, tears in his eyes, before storming out.

The first door slam of many.

Y/n laid still on the table, a hand over her bump and tears down her face, completely abandoned by the man who was supposed to be in this with her.

“I’m sorry about him,” She took a breath, “We really wanted to meet her.”

The doctor smiled softly, “Do you mind if I ask what you were going to name her? Sometimes, in situations like these, I find it’s best to refer to the child by their name rather than something else.”

She shook her head, “I don’t mind.” Her eyes drifted to the door, wishing for Lando to come back so they could utter the name of their daughter together, but he didn’t show.

Tears streamed from her face when she whispered, “Olive.”

The doctor smiled, “What a lovely name.”

The air of the room shifted when the man set down his clipboard, rolling his chair closer and rubbing his forehead.

”Now, we have to discuss the options of stillbirth.”

She was expected to be strong, to talk about what she was most comfortable with when birthing a daughter she would never get to see prosper.

Maybe she could’ve been strong had Lando been by her side like he promised. But he was nowhere to be found.

And that made her hate him.

ONE YEAR EARLIER

The couple stared at the assembly of rocks shoved in the dirt of their backyard, a formation of a heart staring back at them. The memorial of their daughter was the last thing they had which tied themselves to her. Lando stood feet away from Y/n, not having touched her in the week after the news and the birth.

He had been there with her, but mentally, she knew he was somewhere else. Part of her understood, she would’ve mentally placed herself some place else had she not been having to focus on pushing, but she also loathed him for not stepping up and being with her like he had promised.

Part of her didn’t want him to touch her, but the other part wished for him to show any kind of sign of attraction toward her. She felt unwanted and worthless in the eyes of the man that once made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the entire world. The destruction of them laid before them, staring at them so innocently.

Her daughter. Their daughter. The little her and him that was supposed to be drawing on the walls and dropping food on the floor stared back at them in the form of rocks and dirt.

She reached for his hand, it wet from the tears she had been wiping away, but he just jerked his body away and retreated back into the house.

Maybe that was the moment where they genuinely died.

PRESENT

The one year anniversary of Olive and her memory only brought Y/n the same amount of pain it did a year ago. She had anticipated that. This was her daughter. A whole in her heart would always be there in the shape of Olive.

It didn’t matter that it was raining or how cold the day was, Y/n was going to push herself to step outside and visit the rocks her and Lando had planted there all those months ago in an effort to reconcile the pain that harbored within their bodies.

She found the dirt patch and sat in front of it, mud soaking her jeans and water soaking her hair. She felt alive in the midst of the rain, the most she had since it happened, and she laughed.

“Funny how you killed me, but you make me feel alive today.” She whispered, staring at the heart intensely.

She breathed, “I hope you don’t think I hate you. For a moment there, I thought I did. I hate to say it out loud, but I really thought I did. I thought I hated you because I blamed Lando and I’s problems on you. I blamed my pain on you. You brought so much happiness into this home, but you brought so much pain and even after a year, I still don’t know how to deal with it. But, I know now that that was just the grief talking. I never hated you, I just loved you so much and losing you was one of the worst things that has ever happened to me. Living without you, even though I never knew you, has been the greatest challenge of my life. Your father, I hope he’s found some sort of peace in all of this. No matter how much he’s hurt me, not shown up, he deserves so much. I hate that you never got to meet him, know him, be loved by him. It’s an experience, I’ll tell you that. It’s chaos and it’s sometimes anger or sadness, but it’s love and it’s deep love. When you’re loved by your father, and you were, it’s beautiful. If there’s anything I could wish for, it would be for you to be here and be able to describe to someone, like I can, how amazing it feels to be loved the way your Dad loves.”

”Really?” Lando whispered from behind her, his broken voice striking a part of her she forgot was there.

She turned around, looking up at him and smiling softly, “Yeah,”

Lando sat down next to her, the two leaning into each other in the coldness of the rain. Their shoulders touched and it brought electricity throughout Y/n’s body, the first time their bodies had met in a while. Whether it was because he was cold or he craved her like she did, Y/n didn’t know.

“I hate that she never got to experience what it was like to be loved by you.” He murmured from beside her, staring at the rocks like she was.

Y/n softened, “What happened to us, Lan?”

He sighed, “Y/n, you were never a failure because Olive died before we could meet her. I never thought you failed.”

She was getting sick of crying, “But, you left me, Lan. You left me on that table, you left me in this house, you left me by myself, you left me with the memory of her. You left me alone when I needed you most. You never touched me, never looked at me. I know we could’ve been something with her. We would’ve been great parents. That hurts the most. There was so much potential for immense happiness, but it was just taken so fast. I could be a good mother, Lan, and I want to be your wife, but you didn’t show up for me.”

The sound of her sobs broke his heart and he finally let his body succumb to its desires to feel her warmth against his. He lightly let his hand fall over hers, checking to make sure his touch was wanted. When she didn’t fight back, he let their fingers tangle together.

”I knew you would be a good mother. I know you will be. That was never it. I was ashamed of myself. I had felt like I had forced this child on you and now it was like I was forcing you to go through the pain of losing a daughter because of it. I hated looking at you, touching you because it hurt to let my mind wander to its idea that I was the reason you were crying every night and a shell of who you once were. I wanted to fight my love for you because it just made me so angry. I felt like I had ruined the life we were so excited to lead. I had destroyed our hope and destroyed the wants we had for this house. I just couldn’t come to terms with it all without blaming myself and I pushed you away in the process. I hate myself for that, Y/n.” He stated with force. She could tell he was determined to right his wrongs.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, “But, what about not wanting to get married? How come I wasn’t enough to want to marry?”

He shook his head, “That was never it. You were always enough. I just didn’t want you to be permanently tied to me unless you wanted to leave me. I’m always gone and traveling. I’m not a stable boyfriend and you deserve one. I can’t give that to you. I didn’t want you to be officially associated with me in case you woke up one day and decided to find something better.”

Y/n turned to look at him, their teary eyes meeting each other without malice for the first time in a long time, “How come you would think I would ever want to leave you? Plus, a baby? Lan, that would’ve tied me to you forever.”

He nodded, “But, not officially. We could coparent and you could walk whenever you chose. If you walked out, you wouldn’t be faced with mounds of paperwork and custody battles over a kid we both grew. I wanted you to have the option.”

”But I never wanted the option. I still don’t want the option.” She said, her voice firm and knowing.

Lando’s eyes lit up, “You still want to be with me? Even after everything I put you through?”

Y/n’s eyes erupted in fury, “Lando! I love you! I always have and I always will! I wanted Olive with you and I wanted a life with you! Stop, I’m begging you, stop sabotaging us with your fears!”

He smiled at her, his dimples appearing and making her heart soar, and she just huffed, “What?”

He chuckled softly, “I just never expected to be happy you were getting mad at me.”

At his confession, Y/n’s stern demeanor lessened and she caught a glimpse of the man he used to be. Maybe they just needed each other to find who they once were.

Her hand in his, he whispered once more, “I’m sorry for accusing you of not loving me for who I am. That was completely untrue. I’ve never felt as loved by anyone than by you and I’m sorry for suggesting you use Olive’s bathroom to get ready for bed. I knew it was wrong the moment I said it. I’ve fucked up so many times, Y/n. I’ve hurt you so much and I’ve failed you so much. I’m so sorry. I love you so much and I can’t believe I fell short when it was tested. I’ll never let it happen again. Let me show you.”

She nodded, her head falling into the crook of his neck as his arms found her waist, “I’ll let you show me. We’ll be okay and we’ll get through it. I know it now. We’ll overcome this. We have each other, that’s all that matters.”

He pulled back for a moment to kiss her, find her lips when he hadn’t for so long. When they met, the cold water dripping around them, their love was cemented once more. There were still things to talk through, work through, but they stopped deciding to try and do it alone. They had each other, they depended on each other. That was okay.

He slumped back when they separated, in a moment of pure bliss, and her body fell further into him. Completely cradled by him, Lando stared at the small note that Olive’s name was written on, having been put there by Y/n the year prior.

They missed her, they always would, but in front of her memorial, they found each other again. In front of her remembrance, Lando and Y/n were reminded of how much they used to love each other. They allowed their walls to fall and returned to each other in front of their daughter. In a solid and warm embrace, they knew a future together was not over or out of reach.

In fact, it was just beginning.

[zepay]

Here's Tina talking about an extremely angsty scenario for her and Bagi for absolutely no reason (let them be happy please)

Transcript:

Tina: Ooo, maybe you can that one demon that drag me back down to hell so I never see my wife again.

Bad: Nah, I don't care that much about that.

Tina: Ooo, you know what would be really tragic, her being a vampire and all, never being able to leave the plane, like the plane of like the realm, or earth or whatever, and then I'm eternally damned to stay in hell forever, and then like, her then being a vampire because she wanted to live with me forever is damning because that means she can never really die there, and then I can never leave hell and so that mean we can't actually never see each other forever, instead of maybe being together kinda for a little while.

Bad: Nah, yeah that's is literally my headcanon. Tina: *laughs* Or we could just get married!

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 34

part 1 | part 33 | ao3

Steve ducks his head against the flurries falling outside The Hideout as he makes his way for the entrance and tries really, really hard to not to feel totally out of place.

He agreed to meet Robin and her friends here separately because he was coming straight from a shift, but he’s kind of regretting that now. The only black thing he had in his wardrobe that was at all weather appropriate was a tight-fitting black knit pullover with a high collar and a silver zipper down the front, and he feels like some dorky, supportive golf dad coming to cheer on his rebellious son after a long day out on the green. The light wash jeans and silver wristwatch aren’t really helping matters.

Jesus. He should have let Robin dress him.

The guy at the ticket counter seems to agree because he gives Steve a weird look when he approaches and asks, “Are you lost?”

“Uh, no.” And if it comes out slightly more bitchy than he intended, well—

“Five dollars,” the guy scowls.

Strike that. Maybe it didn’t come out nearly bitchy enough. “The flyer says it’s two.”

The guy eyes him up with a tight, sarcastic smile and pops his chewing gum. “For you it’s five.”

Oh, my god. Operation Woo Your Man might be dead before it starts, because Steve’s about to smash the ticket booth window and pummel this fucking guy.

“I already got yours!” Robin calls brightly, jogging up behind him on the sidewalk and waving a lime green wristband. “He’s good,” she tells the guy, then tells Steve, “Eddie said to give you this.”

Ticket guy frowns, and Steve gloats as Robin fixes the bracelet to his wrist. Yeah, buddy, you heard that right; I'm with the band.

Robin drags him into the bar, and he stops her just inside the door, hugging her tight enough to lift her up on tiptoe, smacking a kiss to the side of her head. He jostles her around until something in her neck pops, and when he lets her go she groans, “Oh, my god, do that again.”

She spins around, crossing her arms over her chest. Steve grabs her by the elbows; shakes her like a piggy bank until her spine goes crack-crack-crack.

“Wow,” she sighs dreamily when he sets her down. “Marry me.”

“You can’t just marry me for my massage services.”

“I know; it’s tragic. Anyway, come on.” She takes his hand. “Everyone’s already at the table.”

“Who’s everyone?”

Robin doesn’t answer — probably can’t hear him over the loud rock music pouring through the speakers — but she weaves them through the venue, skirting the edge of the main floor.

Steve’s never actually been in here, but it’s pretty much what he expected: black walls, black floor, black leather jackets on the handful of regulars. The stage is off to their left, already set up with Eddie’s band’s gear by the looks of it, though he doesn’t see them anywhere. Must be backstage getting ready.

In front of the stage is a small, empty dance floor, flanked by rickety tables with mismatched chairs, and overhead there’s a balcony with a sound booth and more seats. To their right, the main bar: a long, ancient dark wood counter that’s been graffitied to absolute shit, covered in band stickers and beer labels and ‘so and so wuz here’s, and just up ahead, lining the far wall, Steve spots a row of wraparound booths.

Dark red leather, the stuffing spilling out through time-worn splits. Only one of them is occupied. Steve can’t make out much from this distance beyond the vague shape of the people sitting there, but considering it’s the only table with any chicks at it, he figures that’s their group.

Suddenly, Robin stops. Turns around to look at him; drops his hand and bites her lip. “Okay, so. Don’t get mad…”

Steve narrows his eyes. He knows that guilty grimace. Whatever it is, he’s definitely about to get mad about it, or at very least annoyed. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Robin.”

“Okay!” She steps to the side, and he marches toward the table to try and get a better view, Robin trailing after him, rambling, “For the record, I really didn’t do it, I swear! But, like— well, Beth is friends with Fred, and Fred is on the school paper, so I guess he just—”

The details shift into focus: tiny frame, rigid posture. Big, curly dark brown hair.

Oh, son of a bitch. No. No.

Nancy Wheeler’s here.

—

part 35

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[periwinkla]

How Takumi writes romance - and narumitsu thoughts

I feel the way he writes it is.... dare I say realistic? If dramatic. Which is also very realistic honestly. To be fair all AA characters are kinda.. dramatic themselves so any couple that comes from that HAS to be dramatic. Anyway the point I want to make is that I honestly LOVE the way he writes romance, like come on LOOK at the canon ones: -the Delites (crazy in love and also in general <- perfect AA couple example) -Maggey and Gumshoe (not a canonical couple per-se but canonically down bad for each other and also both kinda wild, one in a way the other in another.... it's left to interpretation whether they get together after AA3, but it is fairly hinted) -Mia and Diego (very realistic? love can be tragic, also love leads you to make bad choices sometimes) -that one wild tgaa couple (don't wanna spoil) -actually multiple tgaa couples This is unironically peak romance to me. We never see the actual development of these couples here. Takumi shows they love each other, he doesn't simply tell you by making characters confess or have cute moments together. You see them do foolish things for each other, you see them care. You see them being illogical and that leads to them doing bad, messed up things sometimes. When I think about that one discussion going around Suekane telling Takumi he wasn't writing the narumitsu scene right so he better scrap the scene (which is honestly a bit of an ambiguous info to be taken with a pinch of salt imo, but let's analyze this anyway) I think the main problem is that that's just not how he writes. It's just not! He didn't write AA that way and it shouldn't be forced like that. It would feel out of place. Like, look at this (obviously just trilogy stuff because that's what Takumi wrote): -Miles' very odd conversation with Iris -generally every poetics Miles spews in the trilogy... -his agreeing to doing something so incredibly foolish at the drop of a hat such as donning a defense attorney badge? (after an harrowing hurried flight over in the middle of the night) He even suspends his disbelief and still resorts to using an artifact that reminds him of the ugliest event of his life? -Phoenix's depression after Miles disappears...? He already wasn't accepting any clients after 1-4 (Ema had to force him) which I think was a mix of things (Mia's death, Maya's departure, the fact that he had accomplished his goal with Miles but apparently they didn't keep in touch?) but then after Miles' note it just went even worse - if Maya wasn't there to basically drag him around, what would have happened? How was he paying rent? Groceries? He wasn't working. How was he planning to continue living exactly? -Phoenix's I-am-the-only-one-who-can-save-him obsession is similar to Godot's I-blame-myself-for-not-saving-her, who has it over someone he canonically loves... and they're both very pretentious about it as well. While these are definitely character flaws, they show as I said that love doesn't always lead to logical and healthy thoughts or choices and sometimes it leads to you doing very messed up things… This is all way more telling to me. And of course I don't believe in a million years the games will ever make it a canonical couple, but in my heart they care so much for the other that all I can discern from this is that at least they canonically love each other. Was it meant to come across that way? Who knows. But sometimes your own creation gets away from you (also it's not like Takumi made AA123 all by himself, other people were involved).

[kimhargreeves]

The Night Shift -Mike Schmidt x Reader (FNAF live action)

Summary: You and Mike have never gotten on the right foot, always bickering and never standing each other's presence. The day comes when both of you are interviewed for the same job and are forced to work together to see who will win the job as a security guard at a deadly pizzeria.

(A/N: The Fnaf movie is almost here! Anyone else ready to watch it this weekend?! Here's the Mike Schmidt x Reader I promised a while back. Hope it's okay but female reader is mentioned to be a bit of a goth/alternative type of girl. Also, things may change in the next part since I am writing this a few days before the movies release date. Let me know how I did and if you want part 2 once we've seen the movie)

I'd also like to tag these kind people who asked me to tag them once this was up, @riaqiax @ahsfan23 @lufvg

"Please come again and have a fantastic day!" I beam and smile as I watch the client I had attended begin to leave the store I was working at.

As soon as they are out of my sight I sigh deeply and frown looking at the direction they left. "I don't get paid enough for this crap." I tell no one.

The client has begun to ask many questions, wether the store finally had the item they had been asking for, or if the movies on the dvd sections were any good, if I had any recommendations for any.

After about half an hour of trying to convince the person to take something from the store, they had decided to leave with a few snacks and movies.

The store I have been working at happens to be a combination of many things, dvd rentals, clothes, snacks and a few figures for sale. At least it paid a bit better than the last job I had, it was a nice job with nice alternative music but the pay wasn't that good.

"(Y/N), you're on your break. Make sure to come back in 15." My coworker passed me when they returned from the restroom.

I nodded my head and left the store beginning to walk further into the mall where I have been working for a few months and began walking to the food area hoping to fill my stomach with some cheap food.

It was a calm Friday with only a few people or families circling around the building. Many kids running over to small area, an ice cream shop called 'Ice Cream Parties'.

I ordered my usual choice of food. Three sandwiches, fries and a taco. I reached my hand into the bag and began to eat minding my own business when I sat down by an empty area and I stopped chewing when I saw two men running past me.

Two security guards running fast and avoiding running into people. Immediately this caught my attention, so I began to follow the guards and quickened my pace when I heard a girl yelling for her dad.

I stayed behind from a crowd that formed near the mall's water fountain and I saw a figure, no, two in fact inside the water fountain, but one was beating the other and the worst thing was that it was one of the security guards.

"Daddy!"

People took out their flip phones and began to take a few pictures of what was happening, it quickly ended when the two men who had run past me earlier stepped into the water and pulled the poor man beneath the security guard away.

One of them began to deal with the man with a small girl running over to her beaten dad, and the other one roughly began to question the young man's actions and took him away inside an office room.

"Fuck." I muttered when I saw the man was dragged away.

I rolled my eyes and went back to my working place and spotted my coworker, "Hey, you think you can cover for me this time? Something very important and tragic happened."

My coworker nodded his head and as soon as he agreed I started running back outside the store and into the security room.

"Do you know how many paperworks we gotta do and how our establishments reputation will only decrease any more because of what you did?!" I heard the deep voice of a man question the young security guard.

"How many times are you going to give me a hard time, Mr Schmidt?"

"The man deserved it." He answered his boss.

His boss remained quiet probably just staring and him and not knowing exactly what to do. "So that's what you think? You're fired."

The man sighed but said nothing. "I'll have you sign a few paperwork before you leave and an investigation will be taken place right now. So this'll take some time to be resolved."

His boss has walked past me but said nothing assuming I was the guards family. I rolled to eyed and leaned my head forward and tilted it when I saw Mike crossing his arms.

"You're anger issues has only gotten worse." I say uninterested and notice Mike roll his eyes when he saw me.

"The fuck is you're problem?" He looked at me again and scoffed when he noticed my appearance.

Freshly dyed black hair and now with a single piercing over my eyebrow.

"You look like shit."

"I was about to say the same thing." I tell him not bothered by his words.

"Why are you so weird?" He scoffed again and looked away from me.

I poured pretending I was hurt. "Daddy issues. What can I say?" I chuckled darkly "You have anger issues, my guy. I have daddy issues. Tell me what's worse."

Mike remained silent when I mentioned him that. I looked around the onto sound coming from the clock on the wall.

"Why did you do it?" I ask him wanting to know his reason on attacking a man in front of his young daughter.

"And why should I tell you?" He remarked. "I don't owe you any favors because you got me this job weeks ago."

"I only did it for her and you know it." I defended myself and crossed my arms over my chest as well.

"Well I don't need anyone's help and that being less from you. I can take care of my own problem."

Mine has been struggling for a while now. Barely having enough money for himself, rent or raising his sister since she had no one left to look after her. The guy has his issues but it doesn't mean he had to be like this, he doesn't have a lot of money and the first thing he does is try to get himself fired… well he is definitely fired now.

Another thing I'd like to mention. Is that Mike and I have never gotten along, we've known each other for almost our entire lives and know what has happened to each other, but we've refused to get along. Not once had he been nice to me and never have I been nice to him.

We've both been through a lot of mess, similar to one another's, and instead of making us grow closer we simply grew further apart.

"Michael." I warn.

"(Y/N)." Michael says back now each of us looking at one another.

I try to remain calm and not start up another argument which always happens when we're together in a room.

Mike is the first to break eye contact and he sighs when he checks the clock again. It's nearly 2pm.

He mutters a few cursed words and looks down at lap. "Can you do me a favor and pick up Abbey from school?"

I lift an eyebrow looking at him. "Please? I know you don't own a car, so you can take mine."

Mike digs for his car keys inside from his pocket and holds them up for me. I smirk as I take them from him.

"Why trust me with your car? I can easily steal it from you and escape town."

"Because deep beneath all the bitchiness, black clothes and awful piercing. I know your a bit less tolerable when it comes to kids." Mike said glancing back at me and looking a bit too relaxed in this situation

I stared at the worn out paper sign in my hands. A second job wouldn't hurt…"Wanted security guard for night shift. Quickly I scribbled the number on my palm and crumbled the paper over and left it on the backseat.

I stepped out of car when I had parked it and recognized Mike's little sister. "(Y/N)?" She asked not expecting me at all.

Many months ago I had looked after her, now I only see her every once in a while, whenever she'd leave school early, Mike would have her stay at the mall until his shift would be over.

I came to see Abbey as a little sister as well especially since we saw each other growing up and Mike would take odd jobs at night leaving me to look after Abbey while she was still rather young.

"I'll be your escort for this ride. Hope that's fine with you, and hopefully you're teacher doesn't think I'm here to kidnap you." I tell her when I see her teacher looking at me weird.

Abbey waved her hand at the teacher making then sure she knew me.

"I'm late to my shift, so, let's hurry up shall we?" Abbey nods her head and got into the backseat when I got into the car again and turned it back on and starting driving back to the mall.

"It's been a while since we last saw each other. Thought you wouldn't remember me." I joked at the young girl while I glanced back and saw her looking outside the scenery as I drove by the familiar streets

"Of course I still remember you. My brother mentions you often." Abbey said getting my attention from her.

Didn't expect Mike to talk about me to his younger sister, Abbey.

"Oh? What does he say about me?"

"Says you're a bitch, weird and complains about his job or yours." I frowned and remained quiet. Of course why was I expecting nice from him.

"Those are his words, not mine. I actually enjoy spending time with you." Abbey said.

My expression softened when I heard Abbey says she enjoys my company. I smiled to myself and agreed with her, "I also enjoy spending time with you, Abbey."

Abbey hummed still looking outside the windows. "My brother got fired, didn't he?"

"…Yes, he did…"

Mike and I only exchanged a few words when I arrived back. He was fired, of course he was or he'd be in prison for what he did. He was probably going to celebrate later that he would no longer have to see my face at work. The guy has his problems but always finds time to argue of talk about me.

I feel for Abbey especially since she has no other female figure to talk about and have to stand and listen to her brother being annoying most of the time.

"Hey! You lose your brain there for a second?" Mike questioned which earned him a shove from his sister.

"(Y/N) thank you for picking me up from school and taking care of my dumb brother." Abbey said being the only polite and rational one out of the pair.

I smiled and patted her short hair. "Anytime Abbey. Maybe we can have a small girls night sometime." I suggest which made her smile a bit.

"You'll only end up corrupting her." Mike said playing with the car keys in his hands.

"Mike." Abbey said making him look down at her with his brown eyes.

He rolled his eyes and shrugged a bit. "Thanks for looking after my sister…well see you never." He said taking his sister's hand and beginning to leave.

How rude. If he weren't cute I definitely would've thrown him again into the water fountain..wait..what am I even saying?! Forget this, I've lost about half an hour of work time because of doing the guy a favor.

I huff to myself watching Mike and Abbey leave the mall for good. I turn around and headed to my work but the moment I arrived, I spotted Tom coworker and my boss looking at me with a face that said it all.

"You're fired."

"Let's hear a round of applause for the birthday girl!"

The lights changed and was now shining across the stage with cheery music playing as background while kids cheered when the pizzerias mascots made an appearance.

The pizzerias staff began to clap along when they began to sing 'happy birthday ' to me. My entire class was invited to my party.

My uncle was the one who invited them over since he knew I didn't have that too many friends, and he wanted me to get in with the right crowd. He knew that I was in a group of kids who would often bully others, I did it so I wouldn't be alone or be the one getting bullied.

I definitely chose the wrong crowd back then, all because I didn't want to be lonely…

My aunt and uncle raised me as their own since I could remember. They treated me like their own kid since they could never have any. They liked to throw these types of parties and invite everyone they knew.

Both of them were always fond and always liked to help financially to one of my classmates, that one being Mike Schmidt. He was kinda of a shy kid, and wasn't that fond at making an appearance at a birthday party without a present to give.

My uncle and aunt didn't mind that he didn't have the money, they still convinced the small kid to come and have a good time. Mike didn't want to leave his very little sister behind so my aunt would be carrying her everywhere.

I watched with glee as my favorite animatronic made his way towards me. I got up on my seat and smiled wide as I watched Bonnie come in with a colorful and big cake in his hands. One of the staff from the place approached and grabbed the cake placing in front of me, the cake seemed delicious with it's different colored candles.

I hugged onto my stuffed Bonnie plush as I wrapped one arm around the animatronic and felt one of its large paws patting my head.

I stared at the worn down building ahead of me as my hands were kept on my bike. 'Freddy's Pizzeria' read a sign just outside. The guy in charge must be inside or late to our meeting, as soon as they fired me from my job at the mall was when I decided to call this place up.

I'm a night owl after all so this'll be a piece of cake. All I gotta see is how much is the paycheck and I'll make sure to be the best security guard.

Maybe I'll be the only one around and have a nice time inside, remember those fond memories of the times I would come to this place and love following around the animatronics.

I knocked on the door a couple of more times waiting until someone would show up. The door slowly opened and I came face to face with an older looking man with large glasses.

"You're (Y/N) (L/N), correct?"

"Yes, sir. It's nice to finally meet you in person." I smiled trying to be as nice as I can.

"Pleasure is all mine…Please come inside." He said when he spotted the weather was beginning to change.

It was getting a bit chilly and the clouds were turning grey, about to rain a bit probably later. "You got here rather early."

"Yeah. The most important thing about a job is getting early." I chuckle beginning to follow the man not that far behind, but still remaining close to the entrance. "I do live a bit far from here but it's no trouble."

The man stopped and turned to face me. "You own a car?" He questioned and I knew I would be screwed if I said No.

"W-Well I don't..but I'm willing to come out here at any hour."

As soon as he was about to say something else, another knock was heard from the other side of the door. The man gave me a quick look and walked past me to open the door once again, I was surprised when I saw I wasn't the only one here.

Mike Schmidt had also applied for the job…

"No fucking way." Both Mike and I said looking at each other and wanting to strangle each other.

[mischelmayleys]

Only this first one is going to be post here probably so for more go to my wattpad: football_woman_11

CHAPTER 1

Mapi and Ingrid were the perfect ending for each other. They knew it of course. But sometimes they felt like something was missing. Maybe someone. Some little legs running around their shared apartment in the catalonia town. 

It started as a thought from their conversation one simple evening that turned them into a fostering process. They were told they are too busy and always traveling for the games as all the workers have said. It wasn't an environment for a little kid that probably came out of something tragic to find itself in a foster system. 

They still tried. They still asked if there was someone they could foster and later adopt. But the simple "No" set their hopes to minimum, until one day.

„Are you totally insane Eliza!" My social worker yelled at me as soon as she found me in a police station sitting in the 24 hour jail. I looked down at my bleeding knuckles and pursed my lips to stop the pounding pain in them.

I shrugged my shoulders and let myself sink further into the uncomfortable wooden chair.

„Do you have any idea how this will look  on your record. Running from yet another of your homes is one thing there but fights. And don't let me start at your school records." She was looking at me through the bars of the cell.

„They weren't my home." I said looking up at her.

She sighs: „Eliza I know you don't like them, but you need to at least try. There aren't many families that want a 16 year old, yet trouble maker. You know how hard it was for me to find you Mr and Mrs Freemans?" She let the question sink. She didn't expect me to answer her, yet she stayed quiet.

„I was protecting myself in the fight AND running away was a way better option than staying." I argued back at her. She doesn't know how it is in the foster system. For her every family is good, but it's never the case.

I was in five families so far. Neither of them were okay.

In the first one the father abused me mentally the second one physically, but no one ever believed me.

Who would believe a 16year old girl over people who put everything together once they're investigating? No one...

I didn't eat normal food for a long time, of course I always ended up getting some bread or cold food, but my body was missing some hot and fresh food.

„Eliza we talked about this. A roof over your head is home.“ Again I stayed quiet and just stared at my now numb hands. She wasn’t right. Home is when you are somewhere you are loved and treated right. 

My social worker continued to look at me for a few more minutes until she signaled for the cop to release me: „You are sleeping in my office tonight. The family dropped your things into my car. Come on.“ She grabbed me by my arm and dragged me into her car. 

„You bailed me out?“ I asked as she started the engine. 

„Yes.“ It was a simple answer but it made me smile a little. At least someone cared. 

The next day my social worker forced me into my classes and said after school to go immediately to her office, saying she found a family for me to stay over there for a couple of days. I didn’t bother to go, instead I went to a small football field where I sneaked and borrowed one ball which was always lying around somewhere on the pitch. 

I threw my backpack onto the field which didn’t include any of my school stuff. Instead of books it was filled with my football shoes and a half of my skateboard. The other half was showing from the back pack as it of course didn’t fit into him.

I quickly changed my shoes and began to do some tricks with the ball that I learned online. They were simple but at least I didn't suck at it like I did with school. 

It wasn't like I was stupid or something, I just didn't care. Foster kids don't normally get picked out to the school football team or to anything really. You don't have many friends because you are always moving around and no one likes new kids anyway. 

After some time my phone blew up with messages and missed calls from my social worker asking where the FUCK I was. I just rolled my eyes and said I'll be there in a few minutes. It was better to come late, at least they won't pick me if they see that I'm not bothered. 

I would lie if I didn't say I was scared to go into the office door. It would mean meeting the people who I would live with. They never were nice people fostering me. 

They seemed okay but most of them turned out into drug junkies, alcoholics or abusers. Sometimes all at once. I am kind of used to it now. I mastered a skill in running away and quickly scanning the areas I was in to see a potential way out. 

I took a deep breath and with a bored expression knocked on the door and opened them immediately after. 

I was met with my social worker and two women talking.  

„Eliza, come here. Sit.” My social worker said, making me sigh and sit into the chair next to her facing the two women. 

„This is Maria and Ingrid and they will take you in, until I find someone to adopt you.” my social worker was saying but all I was focusing on were the two women in front of me. 

One of them had tattoos all over her arms and one on her neck. I focused on that one more: 

Looks can be deceiving

Hmm interesting. People with tattoos tend to look aggressive and most of the time they are. One of the last foster homes I was in, the man had many tattoos…I used to look at them when he beat me up. How his muscles flexed and the tattoos moved on his arms. 

„Eliza!” I was torn from my thoughts because my social worker called my name. 

„Yeah, sure whatever.” I mumbled annoyed and stood up. 

„Be nice and please stay out of trouble.” She said as I followed Ingrid and Maria out of the door. 

I took a deep breath: „No.” And with that I closed the door and turned around to find them staring at me.

„What?” I asked.

Ingrid smiles at me: „We are waiting for you.” she stuck out her hand and I just looked at it and walked past them. 

„Or not.” I heard Maria mumble as they followed me closely.

Due to me not knowing where to go I stopped and looked back at the two women. 

„It’s that black Cupra.” Ingrid pointed out a black car sitting at the back of the parking lot. 

I nodded and walked to the car feeling them right behind me. 

I quickly slipped into the back seat and sat down with my backpack next to all of my bags which I don't know how they got there. Probably my social worker. 

I pulled my board between my legs so I don't make the interior of the car dirty. It was so clean. 

„So, are you hungry? Or did you eat in school?” Maria turned from the front seat facing me. 

I shook my head quickly: „I am not hungry.” I learned that by now, when someone asks me if I'm hungry the answer always has to be no. I once said yes and I hadn't eaten anything for three days due to me being ungrateful. 

They both shared a concerned look which I didn't see because I was already looking out of the window.

When Ingrid stopped the car I realized that we were in front of McDonald's. I frowned, why are we here if I said I'm not hungry?

„I know you said you aren't hungry but I think some fries aren't that big of a deal, what do you say?” Ingrid turned my way smiling. Why the fuck is she smiling at me? 

„I guess…” I mumbled in case this was some kind of a trap. Ingrid and Maria looks nice…nicer that the other people, but I am done trusting the system putting me somewhere nice.

They both went outside of the car as I stayed in. 

„Well you are coming too let's go.” Maria said as she opened the door on my side. Fuck! I mumbled under my breath and got out of the car carefully placing my board into the space between the seats. 

They were asking too many questions. If I really want just fries? If I want a burger as well? Or what I want to drink. I tried to reply short and no to most of the questions, but in the end I ended up with The nuggets, fries and coke zero in the back placed safely in my lap as we sat in the car to their house.

I still don’t know what to think about them. They are smiling at me, buying me food and making sure I have everything and it has only been two hours since they first met me. There must be something wrong with them…

Ingrid parked the car in front of a flat building in the center of Barcelona. It looked expensive here…or at least better than the streets where my usual foster parents lived. Maria took all of my bags even though I said I could carry them on my own, but she dismissed me by saying: “Why would you do that?” 

I didn’t fight her back on it, not because I didn’t want to, but it was Ingrid who literally guided me out of Marias way. 

“Come on let Maria be, I am going to show you your room.” Ingrid said and with her hand on my back she led me into the elevator. I had the Mcdonald's back in one hand and my board in the other one. I get my own room? 

[lilislegacy]

The way haters just boil Annabeth's character to just insulting Percy and not seeing theres more to her really shows how much they dont get her. Honestly Percy would hate them for this...

thanks for the ask @emilia9622!

agreed completely. like if you want to dislike a character, go for it. but don’t lie to yourself. don’t base it all off of one thing or flaw and make it 100x bigger than it is.

for instance, i don’t like luke. but it’s for a multitude of reasons. he knowingly betrayed all his friends several times, fought a deadly war against them, and intentionally poisoned the camp. he was percy’s first friend at camp and was a mentor to him, but had no issues lying to him and deceiving him. he literally was fine with the idea of 12 year old little percy being dragged down to tartarus. he also let annabeth be kidnapped and forced to hold up the world. when he finally saw thalia alive, he fought her and tried to harm her. yes i know that there is very complex trauma and history that led to all his actions, and i really do feel so bad for him, but i can’t respect someone who betrays his close friends like that. no matter what. i could go on and on, and don’t get me started about him having romantic feelings for annabeth… UGH. but that said, i understand why people love his character. he’s complex and has a lot of really good history. he also has a wonderful, yet tragic, redemption at the end. he really deserved better. i don’t have love for him, but his character deserves love. i’m happy that there are people to love him so that i don’t have to, because i have personal reasons for not liking him. i think luke is an amazingly well written character and i think rick wrote him beautifully. the truth is, besides the singular part where he admitted he had feelings for annabeth, i wouldn’t change anything about him or his story. so personally, i don’t like him, but i think he’s a great character and objectively, i can see why people love him.

it’s okay to dislike a character. but don’t pick their biggest flaws, strip away all the good parts of the character, and fool yourself into believing that’s all they are. (and then continue to go on tumblr and scream about how toxic and terrible the character is 🙄)

this is what “people can’t handle complex characters” actually means. people often throw that phrase around. people say that about readers not liking jason all the time, but the truth is, people are fully entitled to not like jason. it doesn’t make sense to me, because i LOVE jason. he’s my cutie patootie. but the people who dislike him simply don’t like him. they don’t usually make him out to be someone he’s not, they just don’t like him for who he is. they often just don’t find him interesting enough to break down the more complex parts of his character. it breaks my heart, and i don’t understand, but that’s okay. they just don’t like him. there’s nothing else to it. most annabeth haters, however, make her out to be someone she’s not and then proceed to hate on that one self-generated version of her. it’s so toxic. THAT is not being able to handle a complex character

no, annabeth is not perfect. if she was, she would be unrealistic, and people would hate her for that too. yes, she has excessive pride. she tends to think herself above others, and yes that even includes percy at times. but you know what? she admitted to having that issue all the way back in book 2. she was literally 13 when she explained to percy what hubris is and how it’s her biggest downfall. she’s a self aware queen. she knows it’s an issue and she works hard to correct it in little ways and make sure the people around her, especially percy, know she values them and their opinions. anyone who read the heroes of olympus series unbiased and got to read her POV knows that annabeth holds percy in the highest regard. she respects the hell out of him. even though sometimes she says things that aren’t nice, she doesn’t truly feel that way and always corrects it in some way. she’s not selfish, she’s just tragically intelligent, and it naturally gives her a bit of a complex. it wouldn’t make sense if it didn’t.

and i love her for it. the fact that she has a real flaw that can affect relationships, but that she is self aware of and actively works on, makes her legit one of my favorite characters ever. she’s SO realistic.

but people take that one flaw and make it her whole character. they call her cold and harsh, when in reality she’s one of the most warm and sensitive people in the series. she takes care of her friends. she’s strong and she’s often the leader, but it’s because she’s so loving and kind all the time. she works hard and looks out for everyone. she makes friends fast for a reason. she’s a wonderful person. she’s so, so sweet, and it breaks my heart that people choose to take that away from her.

anyway, sorry i just word vomited so much. basically i agree 100%.

[phoward89]

Banner by me, dividers by @saradika-graphics

Based on this ask

Head Gamemaker!Coriolanus Snow, Young Politician!Coriolanus Snow, Coriolanus and Reader are 25 in this.

Warnings! Cussing, Premature labor, mention of suicide, mention of death, heavy angst, underage smoking um I think that's it...

Hate That I Love You

There's an old saying that goes 'There's a fine line between love and hate'. An old saying that would ring true about your relationship with Coriolanus Snow.

Coriolanus needed to marry for power and money in order to cement his path to political (presidential) success. Which is why he married you.

Lucky you…

Anyways, he brokered an arranged marriage with your step-father, who was a high ranking general in the Peacekeepers, by reminding him that your real father Colonel Halvir had served with his father, General Crassus Snow. That they had died together in the woods of 12 by the hands of rebels and it's only fitting that the heirs of both military greats marry.

Honestly, he just wanted your step-father’s money and political support. What better way to get a seat on the war council then to marry the step-daughter of the Head Of The War Department.

Yea, your step-father was given that position after Dr. Gaul met a tragic and accidental death. It's such a pity that she ‘accidently’ slipped and fell into a tank of deadly mutts.

Well, Coriolanus was given her position as Head Gamemaker at only 23 while your family got an even bigger boost in political power.

Of course, your step-father agreed to the match. Your mother was leery about it and your older brother, Rein, honestly didn't give a shit since he was off in one of the districts serving as a peacekeeper. Your younger half-brother, Darius, thought that you were marrying a cold blooded snake.

Oh, how he couldn't be more spot on if he tried.

9 months of marriage (7 of them being pregnant) and your husband was still cold and offish to you. He seemed to avoid you, unless he wanted to get his dick wet.

Hell, he even avoided eating meals with you.

It was a miracle that he even ate Sunday dinners with you, considering he would grab the plate you made up for him and take it to his private study to eat.

All alone and locked away from you. As if you disgusted him.

You'd be lying if you said it didn't bother you, because it did. It hurts (especially since you were pregnant) having a husband that hates you. What makes it worse is that you fell in love with the cold hearted bastard. You don't even know how you managed to do that, but you did.

And on top of everything, your pregnancy wasn't the easiest one either. Even though you’re young, you've been extremely stressed (of course you're stressed, look at who your husband is) and your OBGYN told you that you needed to calm down or else you'd be at risk for a few health issues.

Mostly high blood pressure and…well…you didn't even want to think about the other one the doctor mentioned.

Of course, since your husband’s too busy campaigning for the Senate (he claimed that he needed to become a Senator before he could even think about running for President) he never went to any of your appointments. He offered though. He always offered to go with you, but you always waved him off and told him to worry about his campaign.

That you'd be fine going to the doctor by yourself.

But the truth was, you just couldn't handle pretending to be a happy couple in at the doctor's office. It was easier to let everyone at OBGYN’s office to believe that Coriolanus was busy with his political ambitions along with being the head gamemaker then having them see how uninterested he was in your pregnancy.

How fake his smiles were; how his hands shook with disgust when holding yours.

You were afraid the little cracks in the facade you put on with Coriolanus for the public would crack in the doctor's office. It was too much of a close, intimate setting for the cracks not to be easily hidden.

It wasn't like when he drags you around to galas, showing you off on your arm to the right people only to shoo you off to talk to the rich Capitol housewives. You didn't spend too much time at galas with him. You spent your time playing the part of a pretty perfect housewife that got along with other rich women while your husband spent his time networking.

Talk about your husband, Coriolanus was currently in staring at his reflection in the floor length mirror near the closet while tying his red and black damask tie in a Windsor knot. He looked perfectly handsome today. His platinum hair (Which you were shocked to find out was natural. Say what?!) was perfectly styled and slicked back with gel and his face was freshly shaved. Like always, he was dressed in one of his custom suits that cost more than what somebody in the mines, fields, and factories of the districts made in a month.

It was a black one with a matching waistcoat. Which was a far cry from all white and various shades of red he wore.

Hell, it wasn't just him that wore white and various shades of red, but you too since he deemed what dresses were in your closet. Eh, at least he had his cousin design you some pink dresses to wear in-between all the white and reds he curses you with.

Pink was your favorite color, but you know that he's got no clue. Having his cousin design a few pink dresses for you was just a coincidence.

It didn't mean anything.

As Coriolanus tied his tie with a Windsor knot, his icy blue eyes watched you from the mirror. You were across the room, sitting at the your vanity. Your were brushing your hair and looked a bit lost in your thoughts.

He wanted you ask you what was on your mind, but he was…

Scared.

Yes, he was scared to put himself in a situation where he had to have an actual conversation with you outside of the clipped responses and simple questions that are detrimental to married life.

Coriolanus was afraid that if he talked, truly talked with you, then the well kept secret he's been keeping for the last few months would come spilling out. That he'd have to confront his feelings for you because he knew that once he started to listen to you share your thoughts that he'd be a goner.

That his hard, cold mask he wears around you would shatter.

He just couldn't have that.

He couldn't allow himself to admit that he's in love with you.

Coriolanus swore to himself that he'd never fall in love again. That he'd never give somebody so much power and control over him and his emotions ever again.

That he'd never make himself become weak for a woman.

After Lucy Gray broke his heart by betraying him, manipulating him, and using him to keep her ungrateful ass alive, he swore off love.

Love was painful.

He learned that the hard way.

Love was a weakness that he couldn't afford.

So, he decided to marry somebody that he felt that he'd never be able to love. Somebody that he could even hate. And that's why he picked you.

Yes, your step-father was a very prominent general, but it was your mother's blood running in your veins that made you the perfect candidate for marriage. It was the worst best kept secret in the Capitol that your mother, Helenium, had baby trapped your father, an officer in the peacekeepers, into marrying to rise out of poverty in District 12. The fact that you had district blood, not any district but 12, blood running in your veins was reason enough for Coriolanus to hate you.

So, assuming that he'd hate you til her grew old and died, he approached your step-father about marrying you.

Unfortunately, he didn't anticipate how easy you truly were to fall in love with.

Fuck!

He hated it.

Coriolanus hated having feelings for you.

He didn't like feelings.

He refuses to acknowledge them.

As long as he ignored his feelings then he couldn't get hurt. You couldn't hurt him.

He's never let himself get hurt over love ever again.

Coriolanus was about to turn away from the mirror and walk out of the room, but stopped himself whenever he heard your breath hitch and saw you quickly place your hand on your rounded belly.

Was something wrong? The last time you had a doctor's appointment he intended to take the morning off, but you insisted that he meet with his political team and work on his Senate campaign. But when he got home he asked you how the appointment went and you told him everything was fine.

Did you lie to him?

Turning around to look at you, he asked, “Are you alright, Y/N?”

You powered through the sharp pain and nodded, “I'm fine, Coriolanus.”

“Are you sure?” Your husband asked, starting to make his way over to you with worry in his striking blue eyes.

“I'm sure, Coriolanus.” You lied.

You weren't fine. You were having sharp pains; felt a bit nervous too since you were only 7 months along in your pregnancy. But, you couldn't tell your husband that.

Coriolanus was as cold as his name- Snow.

He didn't give a fuck about you.

Hell, you could die in childbirth and he wouldn't even care. He'd just hire a nanny to raise his heir, your baby boy Cassian Xandros, and then he'd just find somebody else to marry. Somebody else to hate and make miserable.

You felt that Coriolanus wouldn't shed a single tear if something went wrong and you died in childbirth. That he wouldn't mourn you, wouldn't give a shit if your headstone was overrun with weeds and overgrowth.

You were so wrong though. So very wrong about that.

Coriolanus would be utterly heartbroken if he lost you the same way he lost his mother and baby sister. He'd blame himself.

He'd be eating a bullet and joining you in that graveyard, making your son an orphan, if you died in childbirth.

A thin, but fake smile, graces your lips as you assured him, “I'm fine, Coriolanus. It's probably just braxton hicks or something.” You felt him stop right next to you as you set your brush down. His shadow fell over you, but you refused to look up at him. Instead you reached for your powder compact.

Coriolanus gave it to you as a gift after you told him you were pregnant. It was silver and had roses engraved on it. The face powder inside of it smelled like roses too.

Unknown to you, him giving you that compact was his love language.

It belonged to his mother.

The first time he gave it to somebody it was filled with poison to help that manipulative performer of a bitch Lucy Gray to cheat in the arena during the 10th Hunger Games.

The second time he gave it to somebody, the reasoning wasn't twisted, but was genuine. Coriolanus thoroughly cleaned his mother's compact, filled it with rose scented face powder, and gave it to you after learning that you were carrying his child.

He gave it to you because you made him happy. Because you were giving him a family.

It was also the moment when he realized he didn't hate you at all, but actually had feelings for you.

Coriolanus would never admit it, but your pregnancy wasn't a happy one for him. He imagined that he'd be more involved, but you were pushing him so hard to focus on his campaign.

Even though he avoided talking to you for longer then he had to, he still wanted to be involved with your pregnancy. Maybe the next one’ll be happier since he won't be campaigning.

And yes, he planned on having at least one more child with you. Cassian Xandros needed a sibling after all.

Opening the compact and grabbing the puff inside, you told your husband, “I'm fine, really.” Patting the puff into the compact’s powder, you urge him to leave. “If you don't go, you'll be late for your political meetings and duties as head Gamemaker.”

Coriolanus nodded, only to rub your shoulder and say, “If you need me, call me.”, before pivoting on his heel and walking out of your master bedroom.

You thought that your pains would ease up, but they didn't. As the day progressed, so did they.

It got to the point that as you gazed outside the window, looking at the bustling city streets below, you debated on whether or not to call your husband.

Coriolanus told you to call him if you needed him. But, did you need him? Maybe. Hell, you didn't know. All you knew was that he didn't care about you; would probably be upset that you called him. He was a busy man; you doubt that he actually meant it when he told you to call him.

He probably just said it because it was the husbandly thing to say to a wife that seemed upset.

He didn't mean it. No, he was cold and unfeeling towards you so the less you bothered him the better.

Coriolanus was busy preparing for the start of the games and running a Senate campaign. He didn't need to be bothered by you and your pains.

You let out cry, feeling like a thunderbolt has struck your side. Oh god, the pains were getting worse.

Clenching your teeth, you turned away from the window to shuffle over to the phone.

You weren't going to call your husband. No, you couldn't do that. But, maybe you could call your doctor instead.

You never called your doctor.

Your sure as hell didn't call your Coriolanus either.

Instead, your 17 year old brother did. And that call, well, it gutted your husband.

He just replayed it over and over again in his mind as he rushed to the hospital (opting to snag the car keys from his driver, Bentley, and just gun it to Capitol General Hospital himself).

“This is Head Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow, to whom am I speaking with?” Coriolanus answered his office phone, like he always did, with a polite but professional greeting.

“Coriolanus, bro, it's Darius-” Your brother began to say, only for the aspiring senator to cut him off with a question of, “Darius, what are you calling me for? Shouldn't you be in class at the Academy right now?”

“Dude, you're the damn Head Gamer, did you forget how the top students are stuck mentoring tributes from districts without Victor's to act as mentors?” Darius asked in a ‘duh, you're an idiot’ type of tone. “I'm stuck being a mentor for District 8 and was given half the day off to go to the Tribute Housing center to make sure everything's all prepared and shit. So, before going over to that shit hole of a glorified hotel, I went to visit my sister, but I found her passed out and bleeding. I had to call the medics.”

Coriolanus’ couldn't believe his ears. You passed out and bleeding! Were you alright? Were you hurt? Was something wrong with the baby? Were you downplaying your pains this morning so he'd go to work instead of staying home with you?

So many questions ran through his platinum blonde head, but before he could string his thoughts together to form a coherent sentence, Darius told him, “You need to get to the hospital quick, Coriolanus. I'm just her brother and can't make any medical decisions for her since she's married to you.” Your little brother let out a shaky breath. “They saved the baby; it's in the NICU cause it came so early, but it's touch and go with Y/N.”

“What?...” Coriolanus let out in a whooshing breath.

Touch and go…

Did that mean?...

No…

No!

He couldn't lose you. Not now, not when he finally realized that he didn't hate you at all, but truly did love you with every fiber of his being.

“I’ll be right there. Thank you for calling, Darius.”

“Don't thank me, Coriolanus.” Darius spat, only to go on a long rant of, “I only called you because I can't make medical decisions for my sister and the hospital staff’s pussies that are too scared shitless of you to do it. If it was up to me, I wouldn't have called cause you're a cold hearted snake that doesn't deserve my sister. Y/N deserved a man that actually cares about her, not somebody that just takes her off a shelf and plays with her like a fucking doll when the mood hits.”

All Coriolanus could do was blink as his brother-in-law hung up on him.

Coriolanus' knuckles were holding onto the steering wheel with a white knuckle grip as he broke every traffic law known to man to get to the hospital.

The fact that he could lose you just like he lost his mother was fucking with his head. It was breaking him in ways that he never knew he could be broken.

Love is a painful thing. Love hurts. Love is the only thing to bring him to his knees. A feeling that he hates.

A feeling that he's tried to avoid.

But he couldn't avoid his feelings for you anymore.

Once he reached the hospital, Coriolanus inquired about your room, only to rush to your side. When he reached your room, you were hooked up to some machines and monitors.

Your little brother, Darius, was by your side. He was smoking a cigarette (which is not allowed in a hospital, by the way) while watching the Makary Show, which was a TV talk show where district women dragged peacekeepers and Capitol men they claimed were their baby daddies to do paternity tests.

“You can't smoke in here, Darius.” Coriolanus told your little brother while making his way to your bedside.

“It's a private room, cause the name Snow gets the VIP treatment, so it ain't like anyone's gonna complain bout it.”

“Y/N doesn't need to be exposed to it while she's fighting for her life. Be considerate of your sister.” Your husband hissed at your little brother.

“Oh, so now you give a fuck about her all of a sudden? Oooo…that's nice to know.”

Coriolanus' frostily stared Darius as he seethed, “Don't stand here and assume you know how I feel about my wife because you don't. Now, you need to leave.”

“I’ll let my parents know what's going on with Y/N.” Darius sighed, tossing his half smoked cigarette into his water cup before standing to his feet.

Without another word, your brother left your husband alone in your room.

Coriolanus took vigil by your bedside. He never left your side. Not even when a nurse came in and asked if he wanted to be escorted to the NICU to see his son.

He refused, saying that he'd see Cassian Xandros with you when you woke up.

The nurse sadly nodded and left him be. She thought he was grasping at straws since there was a chance that you wouldn't wake up.

Coriolanus begged you to wake up. Promised to make an effort to be around more of you'd only open your beautiful eyes from him.

And finally, after 3 days in a coma, you blinked your eyes open. At first your vision was a bit blurry as you heard a gasp from next to you. As your vision cleared, you saw your that your husband's face was near yours.

And he was crying.

He was crying?

Why was he crying?

You took in his appearance and realized that he looked like shit. His platinum curls, usually slick back with gel, were disheveled and greasy. He also had light blonde stuble covering his jaw.

But it was his icy blue eyes that tooth your breath away.

They held so much relief in them as they welled with water.

“Corio-” You began to ask, only for your husband to cut you off. “My darling, I thought I was going to lose you.” Coriolanus held you close to his chest and his voice cracked.

“Lose me? What happened?” You asked, pulling away from his hold to look up at him with confusion shining in your eyes.

“Darius found you passed out and bleeding, Y/N. You've been out of it for roughly 3 days.” Your husband explained, his usually firm voice a bit unsteady.

The air was knocked out of your lungs as the realization of what happened hit you. “The baby?...” You shakily asked, hoping that your baby boy survived.

“Cassian Xandros is strong and a survivor, just like us.” Coriolanus smiled. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he explained, ‘He's in the NICU; the nurse can take us to see him.”

Assuming that Coriolanus has seen your son already, you innocently asked, “Does he look like me or like you?”

“I don't know, darling. I've been waiting for you to wake up so we can see him together.”

Your husband's answer blindsided you. You weren't expecting that.

But what he said next, well, that rendered you speechless.

His baby blue eyes met yours as he poured out his blackened soul to you. His fingers threaded with yours as he confessed, “I was terrified that you weren't going to make it, Y/N. I was afraid that I'd have to go through the pain of heartbreak all over again.”

Your eyes widened at his words. Heartbreak? Did that mean…

“The first time I fell in love it was 7 years ago, when I was Lucy Gray’s mentor.”

You didn't need to hear that. You already knew he fell for her. Hell, everyone that was in the Top 24 of the Academy graduating class of 10 ADD knew that (yourself included).

Great, so he was going to tell you that he was still hung up on his lost first love while you lay in the hospital bed? What a cold hearted man you were married to. Hell, why would he even do that.

A glazed over look appeared in his eyes and his baritone grew tight. “I nearly destroyed my entire life for her. For love. And you know where it got me? Heartbroken, used up, betrayed, and alone.”

“Corio-”, You began, not understanding where he was coming from, only for him to interrupt you with the simple request of, “Please, call me Coryo.”

You nodded, prompting him to continue his holy confession, “Lucy Gray and her love left me feeling like a fool. I hated feeling like that and swore that I'd never let myself feel that way again. That I’d never fall in love again.” Coryo's thumb brushed over your knuckles. “I swore to marry a woman that I could never love, but only hate in order to never feel weak, broken, humiliated, and manipulated again.”

Great…so now it's confirmed that he hates you. You always suspected it, but now you know the truth for sure. You swallowed down a lump in your truth and softly said, “I understand, Coryo.”

“No, I don't think you do, darling.” Your husband shook his head, making his blonde curls rustle around. “I hate myself for loving you, my darling rose, because you have the power to destroy me if you wish.”

“Y-you love me?” You gasped as tears began to tickle your eyes.

“Yes.” Your husband smiled. “Very much and it frightens me because of what happened between me and that manipulative bitch all those years ago.”

Oh wow…Lucy Gray sure did do a number on your husband. Oh, if you ever got your hands on her, you'd rip hair hair out and claw her eyes out for the emotional turmoil she put Coriolanus through. If it wasn't for her breaking his heart so badly, you would’ve had a better marriage.

“I love you too, Coryo, and I'll never hurt you the way she did.’ You promised your husband.

“You better not or else I'll burn down all of Panem this time in the wake of my heartbreak.” Your husband teased before pressing a kiss to your lips.

A kiss filled with every single emotion he's ever held back from you these last few months. His lips fit perfectly against yours as he drank in your soul with every moment they made against yours.

You broke apart whenever you heard a nurse loudly clearing her throat. Once you looked to the woman, she smiled and simply said, ‘I’m glad to see you're up, Mrs. Snow. How would you like to see your son?”

3 Months Later…

The way Cassian Xandros Snow entered the world was very dramatic but you wouldn't change a thing about it. In fact, if it wasn't for his dramatic birth then you and your husband might have gone your entire lives without confessing the love you have for each other.

Oh, that would've been horrible.

You were sitting in a white glider, rocking your son to sleep after feeding him, whenever the sound of barefeet slapping against the marble floor made you look up towards the doorway.

“Happy anniversary, darling.” Coriolanus smiled, single pink rose in his hand, as he walked into the nursery.

*Happy Anniversary, Coryo.” You smiled back, watching your husband as he made his way over to your side. Flickering your eyes between the pink rose and his icy blue eyes, you remarked, “I was expecting a white rose, not a pink one.”

“Yes, well, it's only fitting that I give you a pink rose today. After all, pink roses are your favorite; the white ones are mine.”

“How did you know that? I never told you?”

“I can be quite observant and a bit obsessive when I'm in love.” Was Coriolanus' answer as he passed you the rose, only to take your son into his arms.

Pecking your husband on his plush lips, you honestly told him, “And I wouldn't want you any other way, Coryo.”

Because, honestly, you preferred his obsessive love over his cold and distant hate. After experiencing both, well, you quickly discovered that it was better to be the center of Coriolanus Snow's world than to not be in it at all.

He hated that he loved you, but you loved that he loved you.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22, @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri , @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak, @spear-bearing-bi-witch, @gisellesprettylies , @loverandqueenofdragons, @qoopeeya, @mfnqueen1

[sickuma]

ORPHIC (2) — A Simon Riley fic.

❱ This is the last part of HIRAETH ! I don't want to drag it any longer than this. It's so much fun writing this and exploring more words to add to my vocab! Everyone's been nice (except when they give me their therapy bills) I love you guys srsly, You make writing so much more fun <3

I should have gotten this done HOURS ago, but I had to do stuff and just finished working out T-T but hey, writing block isn't killing me rn.

ꜝ？This fic may contain heavy topics such as death, depression and melt-downs, if any of those are not to your liking. Please do so exit the fic. Angst warning!

➴ SYNOPSIS — Ghost mourns of what's lost; reminiscing of the memories, apologizing, begging for you to hear his desperation for your presence as he sat Infront of your tombstone.

QUERENCIA — (n.) A place from which a one's strength is drawn, where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self.

“Relationships in the military,”

He spoke, pausing to stare at your eyes. Searching for hesitance,

“They tend to be tragic.”

“But we’ll be together, no?”

“look , kid, it's not as easy as it sounds—”

“Do you feel the same way?”

You cut him off, not giving him the chance to speak. Catching ‘the’ simon ghost riley off guard, “Yes.” he breathes out.

“Then I don't see the problem, lieutenant, I love you, you love me. That's what barney said.”

He stares at the void, remembering yet again another memory he kept special in his heart. He wondered if you had not pursued him at that exact moment. Would he still feel the raw pain that plagued his heart now? Would it still hurt all the same?

If you hadn't stubbornly shown him how determined and real your love for him was, would he still be in this position, dreading every day that comes knowing the person he needs the most was taken from him.

throwing his gear onto the side. Making his way back to his quarters without giving anyone a second glance,

Ever since you've been gone, the base has been awfully tense. The rest understood his situation, trying their best to be there for him, all while attending to their own duties. The past few weeks had been the hardest, They could tell Ghost had been on edge.

He’d only speak to them if it's necessary, otherwise he’d be kept to himself. As if the past had repeated itself, there appeared a gap between his friends and him. He was mourning, and he plans to keep mourning,

If that means having you on his mind,

Then he’ll mourn forever.

“Ghost?”

Price’s eyes widened at the sight of Ghost, 

It’s the first month since you've passed away and the rest of the team planned to pay you a visit to show respect and also let you know how missed you are, not just by them, but also by Ghost who seemed to have shut his whole world out.

He saw how Ghost shown a tough facade when he would hear him call for her,

At night, when everyone slept, Ghost cried and wept for you to come back. Begging aimlessly for your return,

Begging endlessly to feel your arms around him again.

Price didn't expect him to be joining them. He hadn't been. The team visited your resting place a couple of times before, he’d invite him but he’ll make up reasons not to go. Price figured he still hasn't accepted that's where your body lays,

The ride to their destination felt almost eerie, the tension leading the hour long drive. Nobody dared to speak, not a single word.

Ghost’s mind resides elsewhere, watching the scenery they drove past. Chest heaving up and down as he struggles to fathom that he’d finally visit you, 

No—he was more occupied with thinking about how it’s only been a month.

It felt longer than that. It felt longer than his training days. He felt more exhausted, more agitated, and more angry. He resents every breathing thing he comes across to,

He knew it sounded cruel, but why do they deserve to live and you don't? You have been the kindest, and yet you were taken first. He couldn't understand,

As a soldier he’d lost multiple comrades, having to face funerals—visit the cemetery, and deal with death itself. Though yours felt unreal,

It felt as if his bones were crushed. He knew how pathetic it seemed, clinging onto someone who's never coming back, but he'd rather cling onto the past if it means having to hold you close to his heart forever, where you belonged.

、 

Everyone got out of the car,

Everyone but him.

Price sighed, not planning to pry. If his breath felt shallow just by being here, he could only imagine what Ghost felt at this moment, considering it was his first time to ever be here.

A few minutes passed, and the three sat quietly at first until soap had cracked a dad joke, lifting the atmosphere just a little bit. They spoke as if you were there, sitting with them, price would constantly glace at Ghost, who sat quietly in the car. He wondered what ran through his mind.

“We should give him his own time to talk to [name].” Price groaned as he stretched when he stood up, the two following closely behind him. “He needs this.”

Ghosts' eyes caught them approaching. He felt his stomach sink. He knew he planned to wait until they finished before he took his turn as he expected himself to break down and shed tears. He didn't want them to see that. And yet he still felt his heart beat faster when they came back,

Price threw him a small smile, a smile of empathy.

As if that's his cue, he jumped out of the car. Taking slow strides towards ‘your’ direction. He never thought he could ever despise a cemetery so much in his life,

The only thing he could think of was the way you laid down there, away from his grasp.

No matter how slow he walks, he soon finds himself in front of ‘you’, oh well—a stone that only proved to him that you're gone. “Have you been waiting?”

He couldn't believe it,

He was talking to a mere stone.

But he’ll take what he can get.

“Wake up.” he stared down with an expressionless face, “enough laziness, [name]. Get up from there.”

“You can have all of the shirts you want from me, you can pluck my eyebrows, do it, you can get a puppy. Anything you want just— just wake up.”

His voice betrayed him the more he spoke, 

The longer he looked at the stone, the way he kept reading the credentials written on it, the more it felt real. Every passing second is just another evidence of your disappearance,

“You always call me mean,”

He swallowed,

“Yet you're the one who left first.” his cold gaze softened, the more he looked at the ground. Under the ground where your body laid.

Where the body of his lover slept eternally.

“How do I find you now? Now that I'm stuck here?”

He recollects his promise, the promise to reunite in your next life. It all pierced through him. He’s a soldier, yet he finds himself worrying about the most ridiculous thing. What if you'd reincarnate before he passed?

What if you leave him behind again,

What if this time you find someone else to love?

What will he be then?

“Remember when you'd go on tangents about how fascinating reincarnation and universes are? I believe you now, okay? So— so wait for me.”

He sat down, quietly enjoying the breeze. He couldn't deny the pain of the piercing ache that developed in his chest. It never really went away. He would simply distract himself.

“I find it hard to sleep again, love.”

“The bed feels colder without you in it. Do i sound cheesy? Do not make fun of me. I want to be honest. Maybe doing that would lessen the overbearing hurt in my chest. It’s just—it’s only been a month since youre gone and im already a fucking mess. I mean, look at me,”

He chuckled,

“I look rough, dont i?” he sighed, “would you still find my eyes pretty even when i tire them out by crying?”

He looked away, observing the serenity of the cemetery. He wondered how many souls wandered around, and if yours were one, and if you stood close to him.

“I feel—just terrible. When I woke up, I thought I'd finally lose it, well I did. I caused price trouble, you'd have scolded me. I really did it this time, pushing everyone away as if you'd come back to tell me off. That's not ever happening, and that's what hurts the most.” 

He spoke slowly, yet he felt out of breath.

“It feels suffocating—you know? To live without you.”

“I don't know why I woke up, I wished I didn't. Maybe then I'd be with you.”

“It’s scary, [name], so scary.” he whispered, the rasp of his voice sounding more evident. “I have no certainty if we’ll see each other again; and I need nothing more than to hold—to feel you again. To hear your voice, to take in your scent. If I have to give everything up for that, I will.”

“Anything just to have you back to me.”

He stared at the words engraved on the tomb,

“but if i have to wait decades or centuries—i will—without hesitance, without a blink, i will. For you, I'll keep being patient.”

“That's how worthy you are [name]. So wait for me please, no matter how long it takes for me to find you again, please wait.”

He spoke lowly, but certainly, no matter where you are, he hoped you'd recognize him, hoping you’d recognize his eyes you loved so much,

“Even if it means i'll have to die again and again, i’ll keep searching for you until we’re back home until i can hear your voice call my name again.”

“Wait for me, [name].”

Hoping you’d recognize your Simon.

、 

Somewhere along the memories,

、 

Somewhere along the universe,

、 

Somewhere along life and death,

、 

Somewhere along—

、 

“Simon.”

“Pardon?” he looked at you, puzzled expression written all over his face. “Whatd you just say?”

“My simon.”

We're home.

[kittenintheden]

Right Side of My Neck

so yeah I did that. it's a 420 weed sex fic. let's go.

Rating: E Pairing: Astarion/Ori (female OC) Word Count: 1.8k Content: 18+, post-canon, established relationship, AU or possible future for NYS we don't know?, oral sex, PIV sex, mirror sex, stoned sex, recreational drug use, safe sane consensual.

AO3 Link

Ori reclines on a chaise in their shared flat and gazes out the window as dusk approaches, the last strips of orange-red glow fading on the horizon beyond the city’s rooftops. Her knees are folded up to her chest and she smiles, eyes half-lidded as she raises a hand-rolled cigarette to her mouth and takes another drag, holding it in her lungs for a few seconds before she parts her lips and lets the smoke flow out over them, spilling like a waterfall.

Stars begin to blink into the stretching black sky like someone’s poking holes through the dark to let the pinlight past.

From the other room, Astarion approaches in his loose casualwear, holding a silver goblet in each hand. He dangles one beside Ori’s shoulder and she reaches up with her free hand, taking it and smelling the contents. A rich, dry red. Her favorite.

“You always know the exact thing,” she says, raising her face to pay him an adoring smile.

He stands above her and strokes his fingers through her hair, tilting his head. “I know you. And I am glad for it.”

Ori hums, taking a sip of her wine before she sets it on the nightcast windowsill. She takes his hand and pulls him downward until he chuckles and sinks to his knees beside her, leaning in close to brush their noses together before he sits back and drinks from his own goblet.

“You,” he teases at a lilt. “Smell like devilweed.”

“Do I?” she teases back with a smirk, bringing the cigarette in for another light drag. She releases the smoke out of the side of her mouth. “Pity. That shit makes me so silly in the head.”

“Tragic,” he agrees sadly. “I do prefer you oh-so-serious.”

“I know, but it’s been such a long day,” she says. “Hasn’t it?”

He takes another drink. “Wouldn’t know. I just woke up.”

“Lazy little house lad,” Ori says. “Come here.”

Astarion lets her lift his chin and tilt his mouth toward hers. She sucks in a draw, embers glowing red in the dark, and holds it on her tongue. When she puts her thumb on his bottom lip, he lets her prise it open and blow the smoke into his mouth, punctuating it with a light lick followed by a kiss.

He could hold it for an eternity, really, but he doesn’t. When he breathes out, the smoke curls between them and fills the room with its resinous, sticky scent.

“Mmmm,” he says. “What was that for?”

“You’ve some catching up to do,” she says, placing the cigarette in his mouth. He takes a drag of his own and then removes it with two fingers, tapping it against a nearby tray and setting it aside, still burning.

“Budge up,” he says, crawling up on the chaise next to her. “The stars won’t watch themselves.”

She chuckles and turns back to the window, scooting in closer so he can lay behind her. Within ten minutes, he’s pressing soft kisses to her bare shoulder and stroking down the length of her arm with his fingertips, tracing the twining lines of her tattoos to her wrists and back up again. He wriggles in tighter, murmuring lightly as he buries his face in her curls.

“Why do you always smell so good?” he groans beside her ear.

Ori shakes with giggles, her nose wrinkled up in delight. “That was quick.”

“You know what that shit does to me,” he purrs, nipping her gently on the ear before he reaches a hand around to tilt her face toward him so he can kiss her, licking languidly into her mouth to taste the weed and wine on her tongue.

She leans her head to the side to suck lightly along his neck. “I might have counted on it, admittedly.”

“Cheeky,” he breathes as he hooks his fingers into her loose trousers and pulls them down over her hips. “I like it.”

“I…” Ori cups his jaw in her hand and guides him in for a rolling wave of a kiss. “... like your mouth.”

He grins and lays his weight across her, shifting to one side so he can reach out over her head to pick up the smoldering roach, and takes a hit out of the side of his mouth before replacing it. He holds Ori’s eye as he moves down her body and stops where her split shirt lies open, exposing her from the ribcage down. Astarion tilts his head barely to one side, curls his tongue, and purses his lips, shaping the smoke as it flows along the dip between Ori’s ribs and folds back on itself.

Ori watches him briefly disappear behind the cloud as he laps at the skin below her navel in an open-mouthed kiss, moaning softly while he moves his mouth down to the crux of her thighs. He doesn’t even bother with pretense, his skilled tongue finding all her favorite places like he has her mapped from memory. She arches and whines, her thighs clamping around his ears as she reaches her hands down to tangle into his curls.

The devilweed twines through their blood, making everything go dilated and stretched taut. Every touch a caress, every stroke a spark. Astarion lights her up with lips and tongue, unable to stop grinning against her as he loses himself in touch and taste, scent and sound. His fingers reach along the outer edge of her thigh and he scratches over the skin there, eliciting a cry from Ori above him.

He furrows his brow and dips his other hand between his legs, running a palm over his hardened length, and oh, that’s nice, but that’s not…

Astarion loosens his bindings for some relief and returns his attentions fully. Ori’s wrapped one leg entirely around the back of his neck and her head’s thrown back as she cries out her pleasure. She’s been riding the swell for such a long, lingering moment, and he does something phenomenal, something like a firm stroke and soft flick, and she comes beautifully.

He doesn’t stop, even when she’s shaking around him. The fingers in his hair tighten, but she doesn’t pull him away. Time slows and all he knows is the smell of her and the taste of her and her thighs embracing him.

He makes her come again, then once more for good measure.

“Gods, enough,” Ori gasps, struggling to sit up and pulling him up by the shirt and using her hands and her bare feet and whatever else she can to help him disrobe above her.

Astarion feels her palms run up his torso from waist to chest and he shuts his eyes and lolls his head forward, her touch leaving a lasting stripe of pleasure wherever it goes. He barely registers it while she maneuvers him back onto one of the large cushions and slides off the side for a better angle.

Then he feels her mouth on his cock and all is right. Astarion arches himself back onto the cushions and sighs, spreading his legs and looking down the length of his body to see Ori flick her eyes up at him while she takes him, her lips so soft and sweet over his hardened length.

She was always beautiful in sunlight, and she’s beautiful still in starlight.

“Salen arael,” he says, swallowing around the dryness in his mouth.

Ori shutters her eyes and hums around him and it’s like feeling music set to the tune of lust. Astarion rolls his eyes back and smiles lazily, focusing on the indescribable pleasure of her mouth and the giddy joyous rush it is to love her. Both sides move together inside him, a coin spinning and spinning on its edge. 

She gazes up at him as her tongue glides along his skin and she sees everything he never wanted her to, so long ago.

A man completely undone, his carefully managed hair askew and hanging loose in his eyes from sleep and sex, shirt come loose and hanging about his shoulders, eyes lidded and adoring, limbs heavy with the assurance of safety.

Ori takes him deep and takes her time pulling back and away. Without even needing to communicate it, Astarion is pulling her up by the wrists and turning her around, hands scrabbling at her hips as he guides her down onto his lap. She reaches between their legs to hold him steady while she sinks down onto him and they both moan out their want as she takes it all and their hips press flush.

Astarion would like it very much if he had the mental fortitude for a clever line or two, but at present, the best he’s got is “fuck with you very good,” which he doesn’t feel is up to his usual standard. Instead, he reaches around to cup her breast as he lets his body take over, rolling up into her and melting, melting.

When she reaches around behind her so she can wrap her hand about the nape of Astarion’s neck, Ori cracks her eyes open as she pants from the sensations washing over her and spots herself in the mirror across the way. Her shirt laid fully open, one breast bouncing a little more than the other as her hips rock upward, compelled by an invisible force.

“Ah fuck, that’s hot,” she gasps.

“Huhn?” Astarion grunts in question from where his face is buried in the crook of her neck as he fucks her.

“Don’t stop,” she responds.

He doesn’t. They fall into a slow, rhythmic rock, moving in tandem and enjoying one another, their minds and bodies in a relaxed sort of flow.

The impending promise of orgasm begins to prove too tempting to resist soon enough. Astarion wraps his arms about her torso and kisses at her neck, trailing one hand down between her legs.

Ori laughs, the sound achingly familiar. “Hells, four? You’re asking four?”

“Four is an excellent number,” he gasps. “Humor me. Soon.”

She lolls back against him and lets his careful fingers work one final reward from her.

Ori’s groan is long and low as she shudders from core outward, the heat of her warming him where he’s buried inside her. Astarion sighs out his rapidly approaching peak.

With effort, Ori turns her head to press her mouth against his ear and says, “Come inside.”

He presses hard up into her and holds her in place with his hands on her hips as he goes rigid and then shudders with a groan that’s one part incredible relief and one part disdain at a horrible pun.

Their rocking slows and he stays wrapped around her for a minute or two while they tease one another with aftershocks now and again.

“That joke is so bloody stupid,” Astarion croaks at her without moving, his head resting against her shoulder.

“Works every time, though, doesn’t it?” she teases.

He grumps noncommittally as he rolls them both back onto the chaise.

[specialagentartemis]

Something always fascinating to me is the "character who thinks they're in a different genre" phenomenon. The theme of the story you are telling determines what the right and wrong actions to take are; but the characters, reacting in-universe to the situation, don't know what story they're in, and the exact same responses can be what saves you or damns you depending on what kind of story the author is telling and what the story's message is about what life is like.

In Wolf 359, Warren Kepler approaches the mysterious and powerful aliens with threats; he kills their liaison and tries to position himself as a powerful opponent. However, he's shown to be wrong and making things worse: his preemptive aggression is unwarranted and unhelpful and bites him in the ass. The aliens want to communicate and understand humanity and share our music. It's Doug Eiffel, the pacifistic (and kind of scaredy-cat) communications officer who loves to talk and share pop culture, who talks to them and understands that the aliens are scary not because they want to kill us but because they don't understand the concepts of individuals and death. Talking to them, communicating with them, understanding where they're coming from and and bringing them to understand a human point of view, is what succeeds. Openness rather than suspicion, trust rather than aggression. Kepler thinks he's a dramatic space marine protecting the Earth from the alien threat by showing them humans are tough and can take them, but that's not the kind of story this is.

Conversely, in Janus Descending, Chel is in awe of the strange and beautiful alien world around her. She wants to touch it, understand it, get up close to it. When she sees a crystal alien dog, she wants to befriend it, despite Peter's warning. But when she gets close to it, extending her arm in greeting, it attacks her and drags her down into the cave to try to eat her. This sets the inevitable tragedy in motion. Suspicion is warranted; trust will get you killed. Because this is a sci-fi horror, with a major running thematic reading about how racism and sexism will destroy your brain and your society, and how the people who think they're too smart to be prejudiced don't see their own prejudice and will end up ruining the lives of the people they still don't fully see as equals, this kind of trust that Chel shows this strange alien is tragic. However it is also a horror story where there are very real hibernating space snakes ready to wake up and eat the fresh meat that has landed on their planet, and by being too trusting Chel has accidentally introduced herself to one.

Kepler, suspicious and ready to shoot any alien he doesn't understand, would likely have survived Janus Descending; Chel, with her enthusiasm for learning about and meeting aliens, would have been a wonderful and helpful member of the Wolf 359 crew.

In a similar manner, in Alien, Ellen Ripley yells to the rest of her crew not to bring the attacked crewmember with the alien on his face back on the ship and into the medical bay, you don't know what contamination that thing might have; she's ignored. She tells them not to let the crewmember out of quarantine even though he seems fine; she's ignored again. Ripley is the one person protesting this isn't safe, we don't know what's going on, and she is consistently ignored, until an alien bursts out of her crewmate's chest and then eats everyone and Ripley is proven to be right and also the only survivor. (And it turns out that the science officer consistently overriding her protests was an android sent by the company that contracted them, and said android was given orders to bring the alien back so the company could study it and do weapons development with it, try not to let the crew find out about it, and kill them if he had to in order to do so!)

Ripley's paranoia and mistrust of the situation was correct, because Alien is a space horror and the theme is in space no one can hear you scream (also corporations consider you expendable).

Conversely, in All Systems Red, we have a damaged and almost-combat-overridden Murderbot being brought back into the PreservationAux hab medical bay after being attacked by other SecUnits. Gurathin becomes the one person protesting this isn't safe, we don't know what's going on, he doesn't want to let Murderbot out because it's hacked and probably sabotaging them for the company contracted their security and sent it with them. Gurathin thinks he is the Ellen Ripley here! He is trying to warn his teammates not to make a dangerous mistake that will get everyone killed!

However, All Systems Red is a very different story than Alien, and Murderbot is neither a traitor on behalf of the company to sabotage them and steal alien remnants for weapons development, nor a threat to the humans - it's a friend, it's a good person, and it wants to help them against both companies willing to screw them over. Trusting it and helping it is the right thing to do and is what saves their lives. Gurathin is proven to be wrong.

If everyone on the Nostromo crew had listened to Ellen Ripley, they would still be alive (except Kane. RIP Kane), because this is a horror story about being isolated and hunted and going up against this horrifying thing that wants to kill and eat you and just keeps getting stronger. If everyone on the PreservationAux team listened to Gurathin, they would all be dead, because this is a story about friendship and teamwork and trust and overcoming trauma and accepting the personhood of someone very different from you.

Same responses. Different context. And so very different moral conclusions.

Warren Kepler was about how the brash violent over-confident approach to things you don't understand is wrong, and that openness and developing that understanding between people is what's important; Chel was about the tragedy of trust destroying a Black woman who wanted so much to believe in a world that could be kind and beautiful. Ripley was about a woman whose expertise and safety warnings were ignored and brushed aside and everyone who did so died because of it; Gurathin was about how even justified fear shouldn't mean you make someone else a scapegoat and mistrust them because they seem scary.

Sometimes you're in the wrong genre because you need to be, because the author is trying to show how not to react to the situation they set up in order to build the mood and the theme they're trying to convey.

[elfwitchtrickster]

Literature Lovers - Loki Fluff Oneshot

Summary: Both Loki and the reader are huge fans of modern literature, they end up bonding over classic books, movies and even essays

(Mentions of Harry Potter and Shakespeare)

Y/N - Your name

H/L - hair length

H/C - hair colour

H/P/H - your Harry Potter house

"Hi Loki"

"Hey Loki"

"Whatcha reading?"

That was where this had all started. When Tony Stark's new intern had arrived the compound Loki paid no mind to her. As far as he was concerned she was just another annoying (change that word) Midgardian. But as time passed he found himself being more intrigued by the young girl. She had H/L, H/C hair that fell perfectly over her head and was always curious and interested in whatever activity Mr Stark was engaging in.

Unlike the rest of the team, except for that insistent spider boy, she greeted him whenever they ended up in the same room, despite his less than enthusiastic responses each time. Over time her greetings became longer, asking him how he was or frequently commenting on the book he was reading. He always had a book, no matter where he was. Loki had seen her from time to time in the library where she always sat in the same spot right in the corner, nestled in a cosy reading nook.

When he realised that like the spider boy, she was not going to give up, he went beyond tolerating her to actually answering her in detail when she asked for his thoughts about his latest book. And so began a series of exchanges each no longer than 20 minutes in length, yet after every one Loki longed for another.

"Hey Loki"

"Lady Y/N" he spoke smoothly. She plopped down next to him on the couch. He glanced at the clock against the wall and realised that her shift with Stark must be over. "How was serving the man of iron?" He asked casually, not that he cared about the answer. She smirked at the name but said truthfully "it was fine, just watched him work on his suits mostly" Loki nodded in response.

"How goes Romeo and Juliet" she asked, peeking at the book that lay in his lap. "It's very well written but I find myself being frustrated at the stupidity of the children" he said with a laboured sigh. This made Y/N laugh. "Yeah that's kind of the biggest criticism of it, everyone thinks it's this tragic, romantic story when really it's just about two reckless (change word) teenagers" she said. Loki hummed his agreement.

"You know if you like the way this is written I have another book you may like" she said. Loki's eyebrow quirked showing a sign of interest. "Oh really?" He questioned. "Yeah, let's go" she replied walking off without waiting for his answer. Loki hurried to follow her as she snaked through the compounds many corridors.

At last she reached her destination, entering the wide double doors that was the library. She ran past many shelves before stopping at one, she combed the lines of books carefully from floor to ceiling before turning to the next aisle, eventually two aisles later she called out to Loki. "Here" she exclaimed dragging over a chair and then climbing upon it to reach a book on a higher shelf. "I could've gotten it for you" he said watching the mortal strain herself on her tippy toes. "Yes but why inconvenience a god" she said with a small smirk. Loki was taken aback but revelled in her boldness. It had been ages since someone other than Thor had jested with him and believe me, Thor is not an expert in jesting.

"Well what is this tale" he said taking the book in his hands. It was heavy and a little worn, the dark cover had crinkles along the spine and a couple bent pages. "The lord of the rings" she said and Loki looked up at her quizzically. "A king with rings?" He asked dumbfounded. "You could find that anywhere couldn't you" he said but Y/N didn't hear over her laughter. "No" she giggled. "It's about this magical ring and a group of people who have to destroy it before it curses the land" she said. "I see" he said turning it over hesitantly. "I know it doesn't sound like much but I think you'll really like it, it's got complex writing like Shakespeare but it's a little more modern" she added. The god of mischief still looked unsure.

"Just try it" she said pressing the book into his chest. Then she turned on her heel and walked out of the library leaving Loki with his new reading material. After a moment of pondering he shrugged and settled himself into an armchair at the back of the library.

The next time Loki saw Y/N he was eager to tell her about the book, even calling out to her first, before she could greet him. "Miss Y/N" he called and Y/N turned to see him gesturing over excitedly. "Hey Loki" she said, surprised by his sudden and newfound enthusiasm. "You know you can just call me Y/N right" she said with a small smile. "I can but my mother taught me to be a gentleman" he said nonchalantly. "Your recommendation was excellent, Mr Tolkien's work is certainly admirable" he said looking down at the book in awe.

"I thought you'd like it" she said with a chuckle. "I loved reading it for the first time, except for the endless pages describing trees" she said and Loki did something she never expected, he laughed. And not a sly sneer or a jeering snicker but a genuine laugh. "Yes he does drone on at times" he said smiling at her. "Well I've got to go, Mr Stark needs me back in the lab soon but we can chat more tonight yeah?" She said, once again hurrying off before he could answer. "Yeah" he said quietly and settled back into the couch with a soft sigh.

Loki and Y/N chatted over many books, Y/N was eager to know what Loki's first impressions of each book and character was and Loki was just as eager to talk about it. He had never had a friend to engage with about literature, let alone someone who was as passionate as Y/N was about it.

This evenings conversation revolved around their favourite books, Loki was currently telling Y/N about his favourite tale in the Asgardian library.

"It's wonderful really, it's highly engaging and it's impeccably written, I stayed up all night to read it when I was younger" he said with a nostalgic smile. By now Y/N had grown used to his smile, enjoying (change word) the way his lips turned up at the end and his eyes softened. What she hadn't yet noticed was that his eyes only softened for her.

"There were many other tales I enjoyed as a child. Looking back at them, they weren't critically the best but there is something lovely about childhood stories" he said and Y/N agreed thoughtfully. "Say, what is your favourite book Lady Y/N" Loki asked curiously. "Oh it's not that good" she laughed "just an enjoyable one from my childhood" she said with a fond smile. "If you don't mind I'd like to hear about it" he said leaning in slightly.

Y/N had also grown used to his kind words and couldn't fathom how the gentle creature in front of her had been the same one who terrorised New York all those years ago. Whenever she was with him Loki was polite and kind, if not a bit cheeky.

So Y/N began her long spiel about her favourite book, telling Loki about the plot and her favourite characters but being careful not to spoil anything. The whole time Loki listened intently, focusing on her every word with interest. "I must say, Lady Y/N, I am intrigued, it must be a rather good book if it is favoured by someone such as yourself" he said. "Oh" she said letting out a breath, Loki's subtle compliments always seemed to flatter her to the point of flustering. "I mean it is really good but it's a children's book" she said.

"I'd like to read it" Loki said with a determined smile. "You don't have to" she answered quickly. "No, you have been kind enough to recommend me books and give me someone to talk to about them. I would like to see what you love, even if it is meant for children" he said with a sincere smile. "Okay I'll see if there's a copy in the library after work" she said with a wide grin. "I look forward to it" Loki said. "But until then, I take my leave" he said standing up and brushing off his cape swiftly. "Lady Y/N" he said, placing a small kiss on her hand. It left the girl all fuzzy and warm as she traced over the place his lips had touched. As she too left the room, she tried to hide her rosy pink cheeks.

A few nights later Loki came striding up to where she sat by the kitchen island, clutching a steaming mug of hot chocolate. "Lady Y/N, Harry Potter is positively incredible" he said setting the book down on the countertop. Only it wasn't the first book as Y/N had expected but the second in the Harry Potter series.

"You're already on the second book?" She exclaimed in surprise. I couldn't sleep last night so I decided to read Philosopher's Stone and I finished it by morning" he said with a triumphant smile. "And you liked it?" "I did, oh it was wonderful! The words are simple yet her world is extraordinary, the story was quite addictive" he said paging through the second book. Y/N's eyes shone with happiness which did not go unnoticed by the god. "So this morning I went to the library to get the second"He said showing her the book and she clapped her hands excitedly. "Ahhh! Chamber of secrets is my favourite one" she said excitedly "how far have you read?" Loki talked about it in detail and Y/N grew happier with each word. "Oh my god but wait what did you think about the first one?"

And so began their longest conversation yet, extending late into the night when the other Avengers started complaining about the noise throughout dinner. "We'll talk about it more tomorrow" she said, finally tossing her mug in the sink. "Oh but I'm so glad you liked it" she said and on impulse she rounded the corner of the kitchen island and threw her arms around Loki, engulfing him in a hug. The god of mischief was so shocked he didn't move for a moment, but quickly recovered and placed his hands around her tentatively. She let go and said goodnight to the other avengers before hurrying up the staircase to her room.

At the dining table the superheroes were whispering to each other. "Did she just hug Loki?" "And he hugged back!" "He didn't try to stab her or anything"

They all looked at him astounded, but Loki was too busy, buried in his book, or so it seemed. Really the god of mischief was hiding a smile as he replayed their moment in his head.

The next day at lunch Y/N walked up to Loki. "Hi Loki" she said and was greeted as usual. "Guess what, I had an amazing idea" she said, she was almost about to burst with excitement. "Oh yes?" He asked feigning coolness, he had grown to love her excited displays and the way he longed her to tell him what had made her so joyful. "Now that you've read the first Harry Potter book you can watch the movie, and I was wondering if you wanted to watch it with me!" She said happily, trying to hide her nervousness.

While she had been friendly with the god before, never had she been so bold in assuming they were close enough friends to watch a movie and part of her was scared Loki would scoff in disbelief. "I'd love to" he said, failing to hide the smile that had appeared on his face. "Yayyy" she cried practically jumping up and down in her excitement. Loki pretended to be annoyed "Yes I shall tolerate some odd Midgardian entertainment for one night" he said with his signature smirk. "I'll see you tonight then" she said. Loki smiled contentedly, watching her skip off to wherever Stark was.

That night Loki heard a quiet knock at his door. "Come in" he said smoothing out his hair in the mirror across from his bed. Y/N entered in her pyjamas holding drinks and a bucket of popcorn. "Hiiii" she said carefully setting the food down on his bedside table. Now that she was nearer Loki noticed a pattern on her pyjama pants. "Great Asgard, are you wearing Harry Potter pyjamas" he asked incredulously. Y/N answered sheepishly "What, I thought I'd stay in theme" she said showing off her H/P/H pants. "Hmm" Loki said before waving his hand. A shower of green covered his body before fading away leaving the god with an elegant Slytherin ensemble.

She chuckled before settling in beside Loki. The evening was spent laughing and gasping at every plot twist even though both knew what was coming. Loki enjoyed secretly watching her reactions at pivotal points of the movie. Once the end credits had played Loki and Y/N burst into discussion covering everything from his favourite scene to Draco Malfoy's hairstyle choices. Y/N talked until her mouth hurt and smiled until her cheeks hurt, Loki could not remember the last time he was this happy.

The pair talked and talked, each to focused on each other to notice the numbers on the clock rapidly ticking by, until suddenly it was 4 am and neither had gotten a wink of sleep. "I'll see you tomorrow Loki" she said climbing out of his bed. "Wait" he called out to her. It took him a moment to say his next words. "I truly enjoyed this night with you, I don't remember the last time I was this happy" he said swallowing nervously. "Me too" she said and he let out a sigh of relief. "Goodnight Loki" she whispered. "Goodnight Lady Y/N" he said as she crept out of his room.

The next morning Y/N yawned widely as she swirled her cup of coffee. "Whoa you look terrible" Tony said as he walked behind her turning on the coffee machine. "Gee thanks" she said sarcastically. "Did you get any sleep last night?" He asked leaning against the countertop. "No I was up until four with Loki" she said rubbing her tired eyes. "Oh okay don't need to know about your intimate activities with reindeer games I just wa-" "what no, n0" Y/N cut him off when she realised what her words sounded like. "We were just talking about Harry Potter" she explained. "Yeah you don't need to make excuses" Stark said walking off, leaving Y/N to think about last nights activities with a smile.

[whalesforhands]

MY GOD YOUR GETO X READER X GOJI FICS SCRATCH AN ITCH IN MY BRAIN AND THE SHOKO CRUSH ADDITION?!?!? ABSOLUTELY DIVINE I TELL YOU!!!! Part 3 had me hurting ngl like ouch man but it inspired some angst *rubs hands evilly* what if one day after a tough mission reader is just feeling super down and tired and weak and is abt to cry and runs into Gojo and Geto who (not knowing any better) start teasing her abt her abilities and cursed technique etc not knowing her mental state and she just snaps and starts crying and yelling at them abt if all they think of her is a joke then they should just leave her alone instead of messing around with her feelings and runs off. Shoko is the one to find her and comforts her while Gojo and Geto are left gobsmacked and stricken with guilt. I’ll let you imagine how they realize what idiots they are and try to fix their huge screwup. Also I’m so glad you’re writing for Geto x reader x Gojo there’s hardly any fics on here with that pairing and not smut (not that I don’t love that too but I want PAIN and DRAMA and SHENANIGANS) and your fics give me just that so ty

anon i’m going to cry i finally got another ask. i thought ppl hated me bro. ur so cute for such a detailed and compliment filled ask, anon

i write 2 gs x reader bcs it never feels right knowing that they are without each other. i need them to be happy 😭😭

anyways, eat up

dread creeps around the corner (gojo x reader x geto, shoko x reader)

warnings: angst to fluff, y’all making me consider quitting smut writing to become a full time PG writer cause these are way more fun

You think the weariness of life is catching up to you.

Your body felt heavy, your feet dragging as your back was hunched over. Your staff strapped to your back as your eyesight started to blur.

Your backpack seems even heavier today too. You were sure you packed light.

Another mission, another near-miss. How many times would you be able to just make it out with your life? How many times until your luck finally ran out?

Why weren’t you improving? Why weren’t your techniques breaking past their limit quicker? What are you doing wrong?

Why are you so weak?

Perhaps you just aren’t cut out for savi- No.

You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of those thoughts as you sense the familiar energy begin to surround you.

“Little Miss Barrierrrrrr!” An arm latched itself onto your shoulders as weight suddenly pressed itself down onto you, the sudden pressure causing you to stumble backwards, only for the arm to support you and keep you upright on your feet.

“How was your mission?” Gojo’s loud voice rang throughout your ears, it’s sheer volume grating and painful. His hand going round to the strap of your backpack, tugging it off of you and onto his own shoulder.

The other presence flanked your side, before you felt the weight of your staff disappear from your back, leaving you empty handed as the two sorcerers smiled down at you.

You took a breath in.

“It… It was-“ Horrible. Tragic. You survived by the skin of your teeth once again. You struggled to find the strength to describe it in more detail.

“Fine.”

Gojo grins as you felt Geto’s hand pat your head.

“Sounds like code for, ‘You struggled!’” He laughs, patting your back. “My Six Eyes tell me your cursed energy barely improved after that mission too. Should I ask Yaga to assign you harder ones? Maybe with us?”

Your body stills. It… Barely improved? You gave that mission your best shot.

You heard Suguru laugh as he smacked Satoru’s arm, ridding his arm off your shoulder as he replaced it with his own.

“It’s alright,” Suguru began. “Don’t listen to him. Improving takes time anyway.”

Takes… Time? How hypocritical does he have to be to tell you that? He, along with the gifted Gojo Satoru, had immense cursed energy from the beginning. Their talent innate, their improvement expedited with little to no training.

Self-sufficient, talented, never having to try too hard to far surpass the standards of average. Exceptional. Things that you never were, never will be.

Frustration had built up, your emotions starting to light aflame. With desperation, with aggravation. Why did it always feel like they looked down upon you?

“Helloooo? Earth to Miss Protection? Ya there?” Gojo waved his hand in front of your face.

Seeing no response, he reached a hand out to caress your cheek.

“Gosh, if you’re going to be so distracted, I might just ki-“

You slap his hand away before he could touch you. Eyes alight with anger, you looked straight at him, throwing Geto’s arm off your shoulders.

“If you think I’m so weak, then just leave me alone!”

The air grew tense. Your tears were beginning to well up.

“I- I know I’m weak, okay?! You don’t have to rub it in all the time! B-but I’ve tried! I’ve tried too hard for you to tell me that I’m not doing enough!” The dam broke, your cheeks streaked with your tears as your stutters caused you to grow embarrassed.

Why can’t you even express your anger more courageously?

You turned tailed and ran away. Your sobs making themselves more apparent the more you ran, the more your legs burned.

You were such an embarrassment.

Settling by a creek, your legs bundled up to your chest as you cried into your knees. You don’t know how long you’ve been here crying your stress out. Your eyes were puffy, stress not leaving your body as you sat still, listening to the gentle pitter patter of the rain beginning to fall upon you.

Can the day really not get any worse?

You wanted to laugh at yourself as you felt the rain begin to drench your uniform. It was your last clean one. You need to do the laundry again soon.

As the rain poured down on you, it suddenly stopped. A shadow had overcome your figure, providing you shelter.

Cigarette smoke and a hint of a citrusy fragrance.

Shoko.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

You stay silent. You didn’t expect to be found. Nor did you even feel like talking right now. You bury your face deeper into your folded arms, trying to hide. You don’t want to be seen as weak by Shoko.

It stays that way for a moment. Silent, besides the gentle patter of the rain.

“It’s not,” She began. “It’s not weak to cry when you’re sad. Not in front of me.” Assurance. She was comforting you.

You felt her settle next to you, getting her skirt wet.

She gently adjusted your head to rest on her shoulder.

“Cry all you want. I’ll be here.”

And you did. Sobbing, fingers digging into her uniform as your tears and snot mixed into her clothing.

You didn’t notice her other shoulder getting wet with rain as she held the umbrella up over the both of you.

——

You were holding her arm with both of your own as she walked you back to the dorms.

You were ready to take a shower, collapse onto your bed and cry even more. Too much stress has built up.

What you didn’t expect was to see the duo settled on your carpeted floor.

They scrambled up to their feet almost instantaneously.

You sniffled, your eyes red and weary as you held Shoko’s arm tighter.

Geto spoke first, a hand of his outstretched to touch you before he willed it back to his side. “I- We’re very sorry. It wasn’t our intention to hurt you.”

He never wanted to make you feel inferior.

Gojo’s eyes were downcast, sight seemingly stuck to the floor before he raised his gaze to be directly looking at you.

“You’re not weak. You just need more training.”

Geto elbowed his side as you heard Shoko sighed exasperatedly beside you.

“Ow!” The white haired sorcerer exclaimed. “Oh, and uh, I- I’m sorry… Too.” He rubbed at his torso where Suguru had landed his hit.

“Hopeless…” You heard her murmur. Strangely, you didn’t feel taken aback by Gojo’s seemingly insincere apology.

You found it funny. You giggled, desperately trying to not let them see as a hand came up to slap itself over your mouth, your eyes beginning to light up with joy.

“It’s-“ You tried to speak through your silent laughter. “It’s- Okay.” Getting ahold of yourself, you remove your hand.

“I forgive you.” You smiled.

“We bought you pizza as an apology by the way.”

“You’ll join us, right?”

masterlist

Note:

Geto, Gojo and Shoko thought your laughter was cute, especially after seeing how hard you cried.

Surprisingly, Geto and Gojo were fighting over who was to pay for the pizzas. They both wanted to pay for you. Shoko watched, amused by their fighting as she paid for it at the counter whilst they were too busy wrestling.

You never thought you’d get so hungry after crying so hard. You ate nearly half of the whole damn thing before Geto went to order some more.

Gojo thought it was adorable how you were stuffing your cheeks like a pig.

Shoko licked some sauce off your face as you were eating, you blushed so hard and told her she’d make an amazing wife.

“Just because of some sauce?!?! I can do that too-!”