#1-800-silence

[diana-andraste]

Nathaniel Russell

[myfictionaldreams]

Today's Lesson: Don't Catch Feelings // James Potter x Fem!Reader

PART 1 (Dry Hump) // PART 3

Summary: It was meant to be a one-time moment. A friend helping another friend who'd never been kissed before. So now, when your best friend finally gets the girl he's wanted to impress, why are you filled with such jealousy.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, jealousy, friends w/benefits, can be interpreted as cheating but there's no official relationship, kinda love triangle, sex education, fingering, mutual pining, arguing, regret, kissing, drinking, fake orgasm (w/ other m character), dry humping, voyeurism, loss of virginity (James), praise kink, creampie, riding, cliff hanger! -- sorry if I've forgotten any tags

Words: 6.4k

Tags list: @bellathethirstybitch, @kenqkii, @ghostlycrystobalove, @anehkael, @1-800-ididurmum, @imdoingbetternow ~ Y'all asked to be tagged in the comments. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write a part 2! Thanks for your support.

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

"Move your thumb to the right. Yes, that's it! Right there - fuck James, don't stop! Yes! Yes! Oh-!" Even with the silencing charm around the room, you were sure the entirety of Hogwarts could hear you cumming hard around James' fingers curling inside your cunt as his thumb - now in the right place - circled your throbbing clit.

The tips of your fingers ached with how firmly you were digging them into his muscularly toned shoulders, probably bruising him, but he never commented on this. The messy-haired man just continued to listen to your instructions, putting more enthusiasm into these moments than in any lesson here at Hogwarts.

Even as your walls clenched tightly around his digits, he didn't stop. However, you were now quietened as he sloppily made out with you, swallowing your cries of euphoria until there was nothing left to give, and your moans turned into a laugh.

James groaned as you pulled away from his swollen lips, gently tugging on his wrist to ease his fingers out of you. "Woah there, Tiger, that was plenty good enough. Any more and I'll probably collapse", laughing as he pouted with his lower lip, his hazel eyes half-lidded and pupils blown in a clear display of arousal.

"So it was good?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, not moving his face away from hovering over yours.

"It was more than good, Potter. You're very good at listening to instructions, and your skills are improving with each orgasm, that's for sure", you praise whilst pushing his glasses up his nose as he smirks handsomely in response. James turned to kiss the tip of your fingers as you couldn't help but giggle once more at the action, your feet hooking around the backs of his knees as you tried to pull him closer to the edge of the desk.

But, like everything perfect in your life, you became your own worst enemy as you couldn't help as the words slipped out, "You'll have Lily orgasming before her underwear's off". It was meant to be a joke, but it only reminded you why you were even in this situation.

The smile faltered for a split second on James' face as he dipped his head to look at the floor, his hair now curtaining your view of him. "That's the plan", he chuckles as he begins to casually suck on his still-soaked fingers as your jaw drops at the sight.

"James!" you exclaim as he returns his gaze to you. His look of innocence for the act only added to the desiring pulse in your core.

"What? Sirius said that there's nothing more tasty than a pretty girl. Seems he was right", he casually remarked with a shrug of his shoulders. All air seemed to rush from your lungs at the compliment that quickened your heart's beat and warmed your cheeks' skin.

You were once more captivated by his eyes as he inched closer, and the hardness still contained in his trousers poked your inner thigh. "Need some help?" you asked curiously, teasingly, reaching between your bodies to palm him.

James' eyes lowered to focus on your lips as he licked his own, wetting them, and all you wanted to do was taste him, but then he took a step back, your legs and hand stopping away from his warmth.

"Nah, I'll sort it later, don't worry", he explains whilst beginning to smooth the uncontrollable mop of black hair on his head.

A heavy sinking feeling settled in your chest as you realised you'd probably overstepped the thin line between what the two of you had been doing for the last couple of weeks.

James Potter, your best friend, had been since the first year at Hogwarts. Both were thick as thieves and when he'd previously admitted to never having kissed someone before and had finally convinced his long-time crush to date, he needed the practice as the fear of Lily turning him away for any bad kissing skills. As the good friend that you were, you offered to teach him how to kiss, which promptly ended with you both dry-humping to orgasms.

After, James had been on his date and returned, particularly thanking you on his knees as his kiss with Lily had been everything he had ever wanted. However, after this, it was like a drug you both couldn't get enough of. One lesson turned into another and another. How to touch a girl with and without clothes, t the right way to touch and kiss breasts, and now how to use his fingers.

Nothing penetrative yet, and it had all been about teaching him about pleasing girls, so you'd yet to touch him because that would mean you were both hooking up for satisfaction rather than education.

You were unsure where the lines were becoming blurred in your heart and mind. James had always just been your goofy best friend. Mr Popular at Hogwarts would go above and beyond to make you laugh or protect those he cares for, and he continued to be like this for you. However, the rooms felt too small when you were both in them. You spent way too much time fantasising about the feel of his hands or the taste of his lips that you'd yet to look at any other man since that first kiss in the Shrieking Shack.

Then, there came the added complication of Lily. Lily was also a close friend, and even though James and her were not officially boyfriend or girlfriend yet, the way he pined for her and the more dates they went on, the more you were filled with dread. It felt as if you were betraying her with your want for James. Even with the lessons, you knew if ever caught; it was almost impossible to explain that it was all for Lily's benefit in a fucked up sort of way.

You were essentially teaching the man you were falling in love with how to pleasure your friend for their future. All the while, you were becoming more emotionally involved than you'd ever meant to be. I mean, you had casually slept with numerous people during the last year at Hogwarts; sex and feelings were two things you were able to separate.

So now, you were unsure what had changed for you to fall for the man who was so evidently in love with someone else.

"Are you coming?"

His deep voice drew you out of your spiralling thoughts as you blinked at him in confusion. "Coming?"

"Yeah, to class?" he asked, picking up his bag and pulling the strap over his shoulder.

"Oh, yes, I just need a minute. You go without me anyway; we haven't got the same class next", you say whilst standing and trying not to wince at the dampness between your legs that had spread your thighs.

"You sure? I don't mind walking you", James ensured as he pulled on the tight area of his trousers around his crotch, but then gave up and covered his erection with his bag.

"I'm sure we're on opposite ends of Hogwarts anyway. I'll catch you later, Potter", you confirm whilst straightening your tie and shirt.

"Alright then, Sweetheart, catch you later".

With one more beautiful grin', he's off. Then you're by yourself and left to slump back onto the desk and rethink your life. However, you couldn't dwell on it as the clock tower bell began to ring, indicating the start of lessons. As you cursed to yourself, picking up your wand from your bag and waving it over your body, your clothes instantly corrected yourself, and the wet mess between your legs vanished.

You were utterly breathless by the time you'd arrived at potions, and it took a great deal of effort to ignore the lingering ache in your pussy as you attempted to sneak into the room.

"Ah, at last. Welcome miss! Please take a seat; we haven't started without you, dear," Professor Slughorn declared as he held his hand out toward your usual classroom seat as everyone stared at you.

Trying to ignore everyone's eyes, you rush to your seat beside Lily, that heavy, unwelcomed feeling returned to your stomach as she smiles at you, leaning close to whisper, "I told him you were in the bathroom, so he said he'd wait for you before starting the lesson".

You return her smile, however forced as you thanked her and turned your gaze back to the professor. Before long, Lily's sweet perfume drifted into your senses as she leaned in closer once more to ask, "Who's the lucky guy?"

A sharp pain shot through your neck with the speed with which you looked at her, "I don't know what you mean; I was actually using the bathroom".

She tilts her head to the side with an all-knowing look. "Mmm hmm, sure, sure. So why is your lipstick smudged then, huh?"

Your fingers quickly moved to the corner of your lips, frantically wiping away any residual lipstick when it dawned on you that you'd not put any make-up on this morning and had fallen for her trick.

Glaring at her, Lily gave you a brilliant smile whilst moving some of her luscious red hair behind her shoulder, declaring, "I can read you like a book; don't forget that".

Rolling your eyes, you playfully nudge your shoulder against hers, deciding to ignore the previous question. For some reason, unbeknown to yourself, you couldn't help but ask, "So how's it going with Potter?"

Internally, you were criticising yourself for even asking and showing interest in it, already knowing that the answer was something you honestly didn't wish to know.

Lily's grin softened until her lips pursed, and she began to write down the instructions from Professor Slughorn in the book on her desk. "It's going ok; I mean, he's definitely more of a gentleman than I thought he was ever capable of. I also think the exams are getting to him a little; he seems distracted at the moment".

This piqued your interest as you began arranging your ingredients before you, chopping whatever was closest to you without the slightest attention as you asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well, we were on head boy and girl duty two nights ago, and he always used to joke that he wanted a quiet corner away with me in a classroom or something, but now that you know, I'm more open to that. He seems distracted. He still holds my hands and gives me compliments and a kiss or two that makes me want more, but by the end of the duty, he will either find his friends or go to bed".

You swallow thickly, asking, "Oh really? So you guys haven't - I mean, you haven't done anything other than kissing?"

Lily's cheek blossomed with colour as she continued her prep for the potion before her. "No, not yet; I mean, I want to; he's a great kiss, but nothing so far. It still feels strange not to be cursing at him to get out of my sight, like I never pictured myself to be in this position, and maybe it's also taking him some time to get used to".

You were only half listening to what your friend was saying as your thoughts screamed at the fact he was only a good kisser because he'd practised with you. Also, the tiny part of you that was cheering her heart out at the fact that you were the only girl he'd touched intimately, for now.

"Psst. Oi! Goldie! Pea! Turn around. I know you can hear me", came the annoying whisper as you and Lily both glanced over your shoulders to Sirius, who was leaning across his desk, grinning from ear to ear, his shoulder-length hair tied at the nape of his neck.

You huffed, glaring at Sirius as you reminded him, "I've told you a thousand times not to call me that!"

The Marauder sarcastically sticks out his bottom lip, "But it's an endearing name, Pea!"

"No, it's not! It's bullying!" you remind him, turning further towards where he and Remus sat, the latter politely declining the conversation to continue with his work.

"It's not my fault you vomited peas in second year", Sirius pointed out with a cocky smirk.

Thankfully, Lily cut off your retort as she snapped, "Stop reminding her of that. I've told you that my hair is red and not gold!"

"Meh, semantics", he shrugs and appears eager again. "What are you both doing after this? We were thinking of getting a group of us together and heading down to Hogsmeade. Do you both wanna join? I'm sure James would want you there".

That nauseous sensation returned as you knew he wasn't referring to you as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively towards Lily. One part of you desperately begged not to go, not wishing to see Lily and James acting all lovey-dovey in public, and another part of you knew it would look suspicious if you weren't to attend. Who else were you expected to hang out with on a Friday evening other than your best friend, James?

Lily answered for you as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders, "Of course, we'll both be there, but not to hang out with you; we don't need boys to have a good time".

You smile at her, forgetting all of your woes for a moment, watching as she adds a sprig of Rosemary into your potion and watching it change from the awful shade of red to a soft caramel colour to match hers.

"What would I do without you?" you say with admiration.

"I don't know, crash and burn?" she jokes, pulling a genuine smile from yourself.

Later in the evening, the two of you were true to Lily's word as you made your way there, joined with Marlene, and, not wanting to go with the boys, gave yourself some time to dress in something other than school clothes, opting for jeans and a warm jumper.

The three of you wandered through Hogsmeade, stopping in Honeydukes for a sweet treat before deciding to rest in the Three Broomsticks; however, you found what seemed to be the rest of your school year in the same place. There was hardly a free seat as the three of you pushed through the crowd to the bar.

"Evans! Over here!" James' voice shouted above the noise of everyone else from the corner of the room. Lily giggled as she waved over at him, and you tried not to wince with jealousy as you pushed her and Marlene in his direction.

"Go over there, I'll get the drinks". Thankfully, they didn't need much convincing before making their way over to the other Gryffindor. "Three butterbeers, please. Oh, and a large fire whiskey as well", you say, slipping the barmaid Rosmerta an extra galleon so she wouldn't question your age. You were old enough to drink, but there was a swift ban on students at Hogwarts being sold alcohol, but an extra galleon here and there, and no questions were asked.

As you waited for your drinks to be poured, you observed your surroundings and noticed a certain Ravenclaw watching you over the rim of his glass, a smirk flirting on his lips. You smiled back, holding his eye contact briefly before looking away from Quirinus. He was in Ravenclaw and relatively bright, if not a bit of a nervous nelly if he didn't have any alcohol in his system, which, by the looks of things, he was a few drinks deep and clearly in a flirtatious mood.

You were ready to make bad decisions when a hand on your lower back snapped your attention. The touch burned through your clothes to your skin as James appeared by your side. His face lowered so that he whispered into your ear as he questioned, "Is it bad that I can still smell you on my fingers?"

You swallow harshly, fighting to keep your face neutral as you couldn't help but quip back, "I'm sure your girlfriend would love to hear you say that".

James leans away to study your face, a frown adorning his expression, "She's not my girlfriend".

"Yeah, sure", you retort, turning away from him to nod at Rosmerta as she placed the drinks in front of you at the bar.

"Well, if she were my girlfriend, my fingers definitely wouldn't be smelling of you now, would they?"

The fire of jealousy that was being stoked in your heart was only being fueled further by his words. "I'm sure she could teach you a thing or two, Potter. You don't need me to taint your fingers".

"Maybe I do", he quickly responds but then corrects himself, "I mean, I don't think she has much experience. Anyway, you didn't mind it earlier when you were begging for more".

You turn to him with a glare that had him relaxing his stance as he realised he was on the threshold of overstepping. "Don't be so sure of yourself, James, and with the lack of experience you both have, wouldn't it be better for you both to be inexperienced together?"

Picking up the fire whiskey, you began to take heaving glugs of it, savouring the painful burn as it slipped down your throat. James eyed the drink as he leaned closer once more, his body half crowding around yours as he harshly whispered, "Where the fuck is this all coming from? I thought you were ok with what we were doing. It's nothing serious, just one single friend teaching another single friend, right?"

Yes, you answer in your thoughts, having not taken the fire whiskey away from your mouth, but then he's grabbing the glass and trying to take it away from you as he demands, "Hey, slow down, alright? You'll be pissed with the hour".

Giving him a shove with your shoulder, you spitefully say, "You aren't my boyfriend, Potter; stop telling me what to do. I want to drink, so get lost".

The concern in his hazel eyes drops as he looks at the two butterbeer, asking, "Are these McKenna and Evans? I'll take them and leave you to calm down".

"Thank fucking Merlin", you exclaimed with one final glare before he stormed off with the two drinks in hand.

You blew a long breath through your mouth, trying to ignore the overwhelming urge to scream, cry, or storm out. However, a brush of an arm against yours stole your attention as Quirinus now stood next to you at the bar, his Ravenclaw-coloured jumper vibrant in the candlelight.

"Fancy another firewhiskey?" he asked, and you nodded, not trusting yourself to be able to talk without crying.

The drinks came at a steady pace, and before long, you were feeling the effects, the anxiety that had hit you like the Hogwarts Express train from your argument with James had fizzled into anger. It only made matters worse when you would glance over the Ravenclaw's shoulder to see James wrapped his arm around Lily's shoulder, the two of them whispering to one another without a care.

A lump formed in your throat as the world tilted for a second. Quirinus noticed your glare as he, too, looked over his shoulder and assumed you'd prefer to sit with your friends as he offhandedly mentioned, "If you'd rather go and sit with them, I wouldn't be offended, you know".

"What?" you say, snapping out of your staring contest as you realise James is now staring right back at you with just as deep a frown behind his glasses. Giving your attention back to the man at your side, you quickly grabbed his arm, not wishing to be left alone, "Sorry, Quirrel, I really do want to stay with you. In fact, why don't we find somewhere a bit more quiet?"

The alcohol was definitely speaking on your behalf as his eyes lit up, his teeth nipping at his lower lip as he stood to his full height. "Ye-Yeah, I want to do that", he stammers enthusiastically as you grab his arm and head towards the back of the pub and climb the stairs, ensuring no one is following.

Sneaking past the bathrooms, you ascended even further into the depths of the pub until you found a spare living room with a sofa in front of the fire as you claimed, "This will do perfectly".

Turning around and before you could ponder any further on the man you really wished was here and deciding you needed to have some fun of your own, you grabbed the collar of Quirrel jumper and pulled him in for an eager kiss. However, the door barges open as you both spring apart.

You release a nervous laugh as you see no one is there, quickly rushing over to it and shutting the door, locking it properly with a wave of your wand. "Oops, must not have locked it".

Turning back towards Quirrel, he eagerly eyed you up and down. Not giving yourself time to regret the decision, you ran over to him, your arms moving around his neck as you pulled him into a quick snog. It was sloppy and distracting as he kissed you back with just as much eagerness.

It seemed Quirrell wasn't in the mood to wait as he soon fumbled with the button to your jeans. You silently have to give him some credit if he was going straight to the good without even touching your tits or kissing your neck. You wanted a distraction, and the fingers slipping into your underwear were definitely a distraction.

Especially as he began to vigorously rub your left labia rather than your clit. Attempting to shift your hips in your favour, he kept his fingers in the same dry spot, assuming your hip movements were a sign that he was doing a good job.

Great, you thought. Your love life was now just as dry and useless as your friend's life. Just fantastic.

Deciding there was still some hope left, your fingers moved into your jeans, your hand cupping the back of his fingers and moving them to finally circle your clit. However, the dryness and eagerness that he was moving made you feel overstimulated and ready for it to be over as fake moans began to spill from your lips.

"Fuck, you're so pretty", Quirinus moaned against your lips as he suddenly pulled back, but only so he could turn you on the spot and lean you awkwardly against the back of the sofa. Two things then started. One, his fingers shifted again back to the poor labia and away from your clit and two, he began to hump into your arse like a dog in heat.

Your eyes closed as you continued to fake the moans as his lips found the side of your neck as he nuzzled into you and continued with his pleasurable humps. You knew you could push him aside at any time, but for now, he was distracting you, even if you weren't finding any pleasure in it.

"Fuck you're so wet. Do you like that?" he asked, biting your neck like a vampire as you refrained from rolling your eyes.

Instead, you faked your seductive voice as you moaned, "Mmm yes, feels so good", even though you were pretty sure the wetness he was feeling was just sweat, as there was no way you were wet for this guy.

Matching the eagerness of his moans, you pretended to be close to orgasm just as his thrusts increased in speed, and your thighs began to ache as he pushed you harder and harder into the back of the sofa.

"Fuck!!" he cursed loudly into your ear as he came, and you two pretended to also orgasm, breathing heavily whilst bending over slightly to put some room between the two of you. As his fingers removed from your underwear, he proclaimed, "That was so good, wow. Hey, do you want to go on a date or something-".

His abrupt stop in the sentence has you turning with a questioning gaze but stopping short, seeing his face turn a pasty shade of green.

"Are you ok- Shit!" you quickly move out of his way as his hand covers his mouth, eyes bulge in panic, and he runs towards the door, wordlessly waving his wand and dashing out of the door with the promise of going to vomit.

You're unsure whether to be worried for his well-being and sudden turn or offended that he had suddenly become so unwell. Either way, you were well and truly finished with the day. Buttoning up your jeans, you began to move towards the open door and back down to the loud mass of students downstairs, but the door slamming in your face and audibly locking had you halting.

"What the fuck?" you question under your breath, rushing towards the door and twisting the handle, but it was thoroughly locked. "Alohamora" with a wave of your wand, you'd expected the door to unlock, but even this didn't work as panic slowly began to set in as you started to wonder if this was some trap in the room for people who sneak in. "Shit! Please open, please, please, please!" you repeat with more urgency as you continue to try and spell the door open, but then a low behind you in the empty room has you screaming and turning until your back is pressed against the door.

"He didn't make you cum”, James stated with venom laced in his words as he revealed himself from underneath his invisibility cloak.

"James?! What the fuck- have you been there the entire time?!" you hissed in rage, your body becoming hot all over as realisation dawned on you.

"Why did you fake an orgasm with him?" he asked, repeating the same subject as before as he stepped closer to you from where he was leaning against the desk at the opposite end of the room.

"You can't just follow me around, James! That's so fucking creepy, and wait - did you hex Quirrell? Is that why he was sick?"

"He fucking deserved it for not making you cum”, he declares as his body trembles with the restrained anger flowing through his veins, the vein in his throat bulging as he takes a step towards you.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you begin to pace in front of the fire, rubbing your hands over your face as you go through about every emotion humanly possible. "I don't understand you whatsoever! Who are you to judge who and how I spend my time? You never cared before, so why now?" Turning to face him, you see the anger that seems to have disappeared from his body as he slowly steps towards you, his eyes unblinking as they bore into yours, full of rich emotion that you were too frightened to name.

You felt breathless as he stepped into your personal space. The fire crackled to your side and illuminated half of his handsome face, reflecting off the glasses already beginning to slide down his nose as he peered down at you, and you had to clench your fist to stop yourself from pushing them back up again.

James was still wearing his school uniform, you noticed, giving yourself the slightest distraction from the anger and confusion pulsing through your body.

Your mouth suddenly felt dry as you asked quietly, "How did you know I was faking it?"

James breathed in through his nose as his eyes scoured your face. "There were a few obvious signs". You became utterly captivated with every word he had to say as he lifted his fingers, gently held your chin, and began to tilt your face further up to his as he lowered his own so there was only a breath width between the tips of your noses.

"One, you always hold your breath just as you're tipping over the edge. Two, your eyes were open; you usually close them as you become lost in the moment", he numbered off whilst gently kissing the corner of your lips and like every other time recently, your body reacted instantly to the touches, pulsing and begging for more but then he listed the final sign. You truly became wholly lost to James Potter. "And third, the reason I know you didn't orgasm was because you weren't saying my name".

A soft moan escaped your parted lips as he had you hypnotised and, blaming it once more entirely on the alcohol, closed the gap between both of your mouths.

The kiss was everything you could have ever wanted for a first romantic kiss with someone you had a crush on. However, it meant so much more. Barriers were being broken, friendships snapped for potentially a lifetime, and yet it was what you needed—more than the air in your lungs, than the heat blazing from the fire. You needed James, and he evidently needed you.

The gentle and tentative touch of your lips lasted for a single breath, and then all restraint keeping you back was released as both of you gripped each other fiercely. Your fingers wove through his soft hair, pulling him down firmly as his arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you until both of your chests were pushed together.

Where you'd once been overheating with rage, now you were ablaze with lust. The clothes were too tight and claustrophobic against your skin as you needed to touch his. Thankfully James had the same idea, as both of your faces tilted, the kiss deepening with longing strokes of tongues and swapping of saliva, just like you'd taught him those weeks ago, his hands began to move beneath your clothes frantically.

Before long, your jumper was carelessly dropped to the floor, the same with his tie and shirt. Your fingers explored his toned chest and stomach, enjoying the little hitches of breath that he moaned. However, it was your turn as he moved your bra straps off your shoulders as his nimble fingers unhooked the band at the back with a simple flick, another trick you had taught him last week.

Before you could compliment him, his lips were trailing down your neck, sucking and licking on the sensitive areas until you were mewling with need. However, he didn't stop lowering his face until his lips were wrapped around your nipple, pulling the sensitive bud into his mouth and pressing the flat of his tongue against it.

"James!" you keened, rising to the tips of your toes to press your chest harder into his face, and he loved it from the deep groan he released, his fingers flexing on your lower back.

The Marauder moved from one breast to the next, teasing and nibbling until you were a desperate mess. Gripping onto his hair, you tugged on it, forcing his face away from your tits so that you could go back to kissing him deeply whilst also pulling on his shoulders towards the direction of the sofa.

Catching onto the direction he was being pulled in, James took over the lead as he sat down and pulled you into his lap, where you straddled his thighs. You couldn't help but contemplate how the position mirrored the one that started this entire situation, except now you weren't teaching. He was more leading and dominating the situation.

The hand on your lower back pressed more pressure until your crotch was flush against his. It felt somewhat wrong to have your chests both naked and pressed together, but the rest was still covered with jeans and trousers. However, it didn't stop the moans from escaping either of you as his hands moved your hips so you were grinding on his cock.

"Sweetheart, I need these off. Right fucking now before I combust", James pleaded as he undid the button of your jeans.

"You two then, Potter, off!". Once more, the clothes were off of your body within the blink of an eye until you were both only in underwear. Returning to finding your pussy against his cock, now you could genuinely find some real pleasure as the fabric of your underwear and the shape of his erection pressed against your clit, causing your insides to clench with the need to be filled.

James began to chuckle as his lips wandered down your throat, causing you to sit back and ask, "What's so funny?"

Moving his face closer to yours, he confidently stated, "I can feel how wet you are, even through my boxers". The two of you looked down to see a wet patch had formed over the grey material of his underwear where you'd been rubbing yourself as you realised you'd soaked through your lace material. The smile soon drained from your face as you both looked at one another.

"I need you", you dared to whisper as your hands moved from his shoulders to cup his cheeks, skimming the edge of the metal frames of his glasses.

The Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he repeated the words with just as much passion, "I need you too".

It was almost like an out-of-body experience, your lust and arousal dictating your movements as you both held eye contact as you raised on your knees, pulling aside your underwear as James pushed the waistband of his underwear down to the mid-thigh.

Nothing separated the two of you now, and you could have cried as you positioned the head of his cock at your entrance. His arms moved around your body, hugging you close as he rested his forehead against yours.

"Oh Sweetheart, you feel - holy shit - you feel so good", James gasped as you lowered yourself to his length.

You were shaking with the overwhelming sensations pouring through your body, making just as pleading praises to the man currently stretching your cunt. For once, it wasn't about teaching him anything but just following instincts and responding to each other's bodies. You both took a second to adjust to the new sensations and then you couldn't wait another moment before rolling your hips, easing your body up and down.

The room echoed with the fire crackling and the sound of your drenched cunt being filled with James' cock over and over as he began to find more confidence, meeting your hips midway with his own thrust.

"Yes! Just like that!" you praise, tipping your head back and allowing him to move with his vigour as he fucked into you desperately.

"I- I feel like we're made for each other", he grunts as he looks down at where your bodies meet.

"Me too! James, please don't stop!" You could feel it, that tightening in your core that gave you such pleasure. You felt as if it was too much as it continued to build in the moment, as all you could do was cling to the man beneath you.

"That's it, Sweetheart, I want you to cum for me, say my name and cum”, he demanded as he fucked you as hard as he could, holding onto your shoulder to keep you in position. All air escaped your lungs as your eyes closed, and the tightness in your pleasure exploded in a flurry of clenches as you squeezed his cock through your orgasm, screaming his name like it was the only thing that mattered.

Through your overwhelming pleasure, you were half aware of the shivers and grunts coming from James as he couldn't contain himself any further and came with his shaft buried entirely within you. The thick seed spilt into you, mixing with your own juices and pooling into his lap as it began to slip out as his cock softened.

Heavy breaths and the stink of sex suffocated the small room as you both clung to the tendrils of hope that had bloomed from giving in to temptation.

But like most things, the happiness had to end as his grip loosened on you and the reality of the situation dawned on the both of you.

No more kisses were shared, no more longing looks as you clambered off of his lap, and the two of you began to dress, ignoring the fact that both of your underwear were now coated in bodily fluids.

Just as you pulled your jumper above your head and turned towards the door, James' hand circled yours. "Please don't shut me out, you're my best friend, I can't lose you". You don't say anything, and the emotions that had been threatening to spill all day finally surfaced as tears lined your eyes and your nose became stuffy. James looked devastated by your reaction as he stepped closer, his hands cupping either side of your face. "Did I hurt you? Please tell me you don't regret this".

"I should regret this", you begin to explain, letting the tears slip free, but James' thumb was there to swipe them all away. "But I don't, never with you. The only thing I regret is that this was your first time in this shitty little room and-. And your virginity wasn't meant for me".

James frowns at your words as he kisses your temple for a long second, "I'm pretty sure it's my virginity, and I can do whatever the fuck I want with it and give it to whoever I like. Also, side note, speaking about my virginity like this makes me sound like some virgin sacrifice".

You laugh tearily, leaning into his touch for a moment before stepping out of his grip and moving towards the door, turning the handle but finding it still locked. You couldn't turn around to face him, knowing it would break you to see the sadness in his eyes.

"Please don't go", James pleaded.

"Let me go, James", you whispered, meaning the sentence in more ways than one.

"I can't, Sweetheart", he admits, sounding almost broken.

"You have to. I don't want to be your bit on the side".

"You aren't my bit on the side; I mean, I can't do that to Lily; that's why I haven't asked her to be my girlfriend yet because of what we were doing".

Your heart sank at his words even though you knew he wasn't necessarily saying it to be cruel. "You can't do that to Lily, but you could do that to me? Please, James, please just let me go".

You were greeted with pure silence, and just as you're about to turn around and ask again, the door unlocks, and you're out the door in less than a second, rushing down the staircase and away from what you'd done but not before you're out of earshot as James screams the word "Fuck!" like a broken man.

[anundyingfidelity]

WHAT IF...? — Soldier Boy/Ben (1)

Summary: Ben, now as your husband, gives up Vought for good and retires along with you far away from the spotlight and the big cities once you're pregnant with your first child. He knows better than to make the same mistakes his father did.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 800.

Warnings: some angst, hurt/comfort, pregnancy, AU where Soldier Boy was never with Crimson Countess, some OOC from Ben? idk he's soft in here.

Notes: this is an AU I had in mind, based on this one shot I did before, but now with Ben and the reader being the good parents Homelander always needed. Is not necessary to read that one but this takes place in 1984, before Soldier Boy goes to Nicaragua. I might update with short drabbles with random scenarios and domestic situations between them, but for now take this. Hope you like it!

GEN MASTERLIST! — DRABBLES MASTERLIST!

taglist is here!

PART 1

1984

“So, how is it now for America’s son to retire like this?” the journalist asked.

Ben gave him a charming smile, eyes bright like diamonds as the camera flashes took pictures everywhere at the press conference.

“Is what I always wanted,” he beamed.

The time for questions was over, but still you heard through the crowd all the inquiries and thirst for gossip from the journalists in the room. Soldier Boy stood up, posing for the last time with his green suit and shield hanging on his arm.

“Who’s the lucky lady?”

“Do you plan on having kids?”

“Will your kids be supes like you?”

“How many children you want, Soldier Boy?”

“How’d you meet her?”

“Soldier Boy, give us her name!”

You turned off the TV as the conference ended and took in sight of your surroundings. It was your home, finally. The place you’d share with your husband forever. And even though the conference was filmed a couple of weeks ago, Ben agreeing to retirement was still fresh in your mind. Ever since you talked about marriage and settling down a year ago, this was one of your conditions. Being a supe was dangerous, more so with Vought behind, and you wouldn’t expose your future legacy like that. You were lucky enough for Ben to understand that. He wouldn’t want to put the same faith he had with his father to his children.

In silence, you looked up for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. You checked the last room, which happened to be his dispatch; his personal space to show his achievements and his own story as America’s greatest hero. His back faced you, as he seemed to admire for the last time the suit hanging on the wall behind a glass that’d keep it as a trophy for a long time. Leaning against the doorframe, you wondered what was going in his head now that the announcement was public.

“I know you’re there,” he said, looking at you from the corner of his eye. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

You approached him, clinging into his strong arm and watching his handsome, stern face. “I’m so proud of you,” you mumbled softly. Ben turned his eyes to look at you, his face softened as he heard your words. “Thank you.”

His lips curved in a smile and he wrapped his arm on your waist, pulling you closer to his broad figure. “How’s the baby doing?”

“Considering I’m around five months now, I’d say he’s doing amazing,” your smile grew, feeling his warm hand on your baby bump.

“He?”

You shrugged. “You want a boy, right?”

“Yeah, but we haven’t checked that. We agreed to wait until birth…”

There was a hint of hope and confusion in his words.

“I haven’t done an ultrasound behind your back, if that’s concerning you,” you reassured him too quickly, putting yourself in front of him so he could look at you. Your hand rested on his cheek in a delicate manner. “I just have a hunch.”

Ben nodded, leaning into your touch. There was something he wanted to say out loud, to let you know, but he never had the courage to say it. The intrusive thoughts and the traumatic past he was carrying on his back used to torment him enough already. And you knew he was hiding something since you told him you were pregnant. You could see it in his eyes.

“What is it, Ben?”

He sighed at your question. He couldn’t lie to you, could he?

“I’m… scared,” he confessed. “I know I don’t want to be like my father. I don’t wanna disappoint our children.”

“You won’t, I promise. Please don’t torture yourself with things you are not, you’re not your father. And I know you’ll be a great dad,” you pulled him for a soft kiss, to which he responded, his hand cupping your cheek and then wandering to the nape of your neck. “They all will love you,” you whispered once the kiss was over.

Ben arched his brow in a playful manner. “They?”

“I’ll give you as many kids as I can, is that okay?”

He pulled you in for a hug, your head resting on his chest as he kissed your forehead lovingly. There was no other place he wanted to be but here, with you and the future baby growing up in your belly. Ben already pictured you together with a bunch of rugrats running all over the house, scolding them for being so reckless as they played silly games in a sunny afternoon by the pool. It was everything he yearned for. A normal life and becoming a loving father. His heart fluttered with joy, realizing this was the beginning of what he always really desired.

“It's perfect.”

>>> Next part here!!

Soldier Boy taglist:

@delaynew @k-slla @thesilmarillionblog @onlyangel-444 @mrsjenniferwinchester

@daisy-the-quake @jackles010378 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-spinster-witch @drasticemotions

@stoneyggirl2 @sapnaploves @believeinthefireflies95

[r3starttt]

FULL MOON

PAIRING: werewolf! reader x abby

SUMMARY: The space grown between you and abby has ignited a primal desire that you can no longer suppress!

CW: abby is a sweetheart in here. mutual fingering. mentions of blood. angsty.

TAGLIST | KINKTOBER: @s4pphic-myth @bilsvlt @tlouloser @marsworlddd @softlikesilk-chiffon @roos4lm4 @elliezlils11utt @1-800-fantasy @roos4lm4 @abbys-muscles | ABBY TAGLIST: @imdrowningindispair @rkivedpages @aouiaa @twopeoplee @wastdstime | as always @clairoscharm, I feel like this sucks.

It wasn’t the first time you managed to survive after a full moon. The last one had come and gone just a few days ago, on the seventeenth. That night still weighed heavy on your mind, but not for the usual reasons. You had left her house for a run, a routine she had suggested months ago to help channel the chaos building up inside you before each transformation. The week had been suffocating—every day a whirlwind of stress—and by the time you had an argument with her, it felt like you were just looking for reasons to escape. You weren’t angry with her, not really, but you didn’t go back that night.

It wasn’t unusual for people to drift away from you during the days leading up to a full moon. Your moods shifted unpredictably, your nerves constantly on edge. The heightened senses made everything sharper, louder, and more unbearable. You became irritable, snappish, the kind of person no one wanted to be around. As much as you tried to remain yourself, there was always that lurking aggression, the impulsiveness you couldn’t quite control. You longed for touch, for someone to ground you with tenderness, but the moment anyone tried, you recoiled, fumbling with excuses about being stressed or "not in the mood." And though you understood your own desperate need for affection, you also understood why others left. Who could blame them? Why would anyone stay when the weeks before a full moon were a minefield, with no freedom to navigate around you without stepping on something volatile? They left because they had no argument to stay, and the thought gnawed at you—were they only here out of obligation or guilt? Maybe they had someone else.

But Abby stayed. She always stayed.

It was Abby who had suggested the running in the first place. She had a way of soothing you without saying much, knowing when to push and when to step back. Running through the woods near your house, or hers, had become a ritual of sorts. The freedom of the outdoors gave you space to let loose that building euphoria, to release the energy that clung to your skin like static. Afterward, you would return to her, your body still buzzing but finally calm enough to accept her touch. Her hands would cradle your flushed, sweaty face, and she’d kiss you softly, grounding you in the safety of her arms. Abby was endlessly gentle, ridiculously understanding, always knowing just how to make you feel like yourself again.

But this past week had been different. The pressure of life itself was suffocating, making your senses more overwhelming than usual. Everything grated at you. Your fangs ached at odd moments, sharp and painful. The smells of the city assaulted your nose, pungent and nauseating, and the sounds were unbearable—every honk, shout, and murmur seemed to scratch at your ears. Seeing Abby helped, sometimes just hearing her voice on the phone at the end of a long day, your body wrapped around a pillow as you tried to wind down. She’d call, and you’d talk until you were too exhausted to stay awake, drifting off somewhere in the middle of your conversation.

But this time, there had been no call. No message, no apology text to smooth over the edges of your argument. The silence was maddening. It gnawed at your thoughts, and the frustration seeped into every part of you. Your nails had grown sharper, and the small scratches you’d given yourself from restless, nightmare-filled sleep weren’t healing. It was a sign you were pushing yourself too hard, teetering dangerously close to the edge. The lack of release, the inability to transform when your body needed it, was making everything worse. The tension had built up over the week, and when the full moon finally came on the seventeenth, the transformation was brutal.

You hadn’t just been burdened by the fight with Abby, though that certainly weighed on you. It was the whole week, the overwhelming need for release, and your fear of losing control. The transformation had been agonizingly slow. Every bone in your body shattered and reformed with excruciating precision. Your muscles stretched and contorted, fur sprouting in patches that itched and burned. It felt like your body was ripping itself apart, piece by piece, and you were powerless to stop it. It reminded you too much of the first time it happened, when the pain was unbearable, and you didn’t know if you’d ever come out the other side whole.

The weight of that night still clung to you, days later, like a bruise that hadn't fully healed. You were restless, nerves frayed, waiting for a sign that things would calm down. But Abby’s silence only stretched longer, a quiet thread pulling tighter with each passing day. It became unbearable, so you found yourself heading to her place without really planning to, hands gripping the steering wheel as if it were the only thing keeping you tethered.

It was late, the moon no longer as brilliant as it had been just a few nights ago. Its dull glow matched the tension gnawing at you—though now it wasn’t just the residual unease from that night. Now, it was Abby herself, and the growing attachment you felt for her. It wasn’t your body craving touch anymore, it was something deeper, something you weren’t sure how to handle. The city streets were eerily quiet, or maybe they’d always been that way, and it was just your mind playing tricks, making everything feel more intense, more suffocating.

The trees started to swallow the road as you drove, their branches encroaching like shadows creeping across the sky. You loosened your white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel just long enough to fumble for your phone. The dim glow of the screen illuminated your face, but it failed to unlock with your face in the darkness, so you cursed under your breath and manually typed the password. Abby’s contact had slipped from the top of your recent calls, and something about that stung. You pressed the call anyway, the green glow of the call screen casting a ghostly light inside the car as you tossed the phone aside and kept driving.

The ringing seemed to go on forever, the vibration rattling in sync with your nerves, until—finally—it stopped. You tried again, and again, until her voice cut through the silence. “Hi, I’m on a run.” Her breathless voice was strained, like she couldn’t quite catch it between her words. You smiled, the relief immediate, like a weight lifting just from hearing her. At least she wasn’t ignoring you entirely. Maybe she wasn’t as angry as you feared.

“Wait,” you blurted before she could hang up, your voice urgent, almost desperate. You could hear her heavy breathing, the rhythmic pounding of her feet against the pavement, the wind rushing past the phone. “I’ll pick you up, yeah?”

There was a pause—just long enough for doubt to creep in—before she finally replied. “Yeah, see you.”

She hung up before you could say more, before you could say the words you’d been holding back for too long. You clenched your jaw, trying to push down the rising tide of thoughts swirling in your head. Why couldn’t you just tell her you loved her? Why did everything feel so tangled?

Abby was running to clear her head, trying to make sense of you, of everything. You’d been so open, so sweet just weeks ago, but now it was like you couldn’t even look her in the eyes. She knew it couldn’t just be stress—there had to be something else you weren’t telling her. The question hung over her: if she pushed you to open up, would it help, or would it only make things worse? Would it drive a wedge deeper, or could it be a turning point?

She wrestled with it as her feet pounded the pavement, her breath coming in sharp bursts. You were stubborn, endearingly so, but right now, she wished more than anything for you to just let go, to trust her, to open up even a little. She didn’t know how to approach you after the fight, didn’t know if you were as lost in your own thoughts as she was. And the terrifying part was the not knowing—if she was wrong about you, about everything between you two, then what?

You tightened your grip on the steering wheel again, heart heavy with the fear that, no matter what you did, nothing would be the same after tonight.

Somewhere amid the chaos of your thoughts, you parked near the large forest park sign. The dim light of the parking lot washed over you as you turned off the engine and slumped back in your seat, glancing at your phone, hoping it might somehow make the minutes pass more quickly or summon her arrival. A familiar discomfort gnawed at your jaw, an anxious tingling in your gums that felt like a warning. You clenched your teeth, trying to make the sensation fade, but only succeeded in biting your inner lips. “Fuck,” you mumbled under your breath.

Restlessness took hold, and you began to bounce your leg, your feet tapping rhythmically against the car floor as your breath quickened and became uneven. You leaned your head back, closing your eyes and counting your breaths until they settled into a steadier rhythm. Just as you felt yourself calming down, a sharp knock on the window broke the spell. It was Abby.

Her face glistened with sweat, baby hairs plastered to her forehead, and her braid tousled from running. She wore your hoodie, the one you had bought to match hers, and your heart twisted at the sight. At least you weren’t breaking up tonight, right? You reached for the lock, fingers trembling slightly as you unlocked the door. It took her a moment to pull her headphones off and open the door before settling into the passenger seat. You turned the engine back on, the familiar hum a small comfort.

“Hey…” you whispered, not quite meeting her gaze.

“Why’re you here?” she asked, her tone flat but not unkind. She was entitled to feel that way, especially after everything. Abby had been endlessly patient with you, while you felt like a storm of confusion and chaos. It stung, even if it shouldn’t have.

“I wanted to talk about… what happened last week. I—”

She interrupted you, shaking her head. “I’m not mad.”

A wave of relief washed over you, bringing with it a warmth only she could provide. “I’m not mad either.” Your voices overlapped, and she nodded, an understanding look in her eyes. "I know."

But then silence enveloped you, thick and heavy. You didn’t know what to say or do, and she looked so beautiful, so kissable, and—“What happened? You were insufferable this time,” her eyebrows drawing together in a gentle prompting for you to open up.

Her hands found yours, and suddenly the air felt thick, as if it was suffocating you. She laughed lightly between her words, her sweetness almost overwhelming you. So why did you feel so attacked? “There’s… I don’t- You know It happens every once in a while, and I can’t control it. Yes, I was insufferable—" all the words you could say turned into a mess, "you’re too sweet to me, and it’s just not fair.” The words spilled out in a jumble, sounding more like a frightened ramble than a coherent explanation.

“Hey, look at me.” Her hand cradled your face, gently guiding your gaze to hers. You did as she asked, but the warmth of her touch sent a rush of heat through you.

“It’s never happened like this. I’m just worried there’s something else you’re not telling me. Maybe I could help.”

You couldn’t reply.

“I love you. And you know that, whatever it is— even if your stubborn ass won’t tell me, I’ll be here for you.” She leaned in, pressing her salty lips against yours in a fleeting kiss, brief but enough to ignite something deep inside you.

“You don’t owe me an explanation, but I’d like to know if there’s a way I can help. Yeah?”

Was that it? Really? Would she truly just… stay?

Her lips captivated you, igniting a wild, selfish hunger within. It was a primal urge that pulled you into a messy kiss—one that Abby adored because it let her hear how much you cherished her. Soft whines slipped through your lips and mingled with hers as you pulled her closer, your hands grasping her body with a desperation that bordered on pain. It felt good, a way for the frantic beating of your heart to distract you from everything else. The edge of the center console dug into your ribs as your noses brushed between the chaotic kisses, fingers gripping whatever they could find.

Abby’s teeth grazed your lips, teasing before they sank in gently. But this time, there was an unsettling itch, a burning sensation that you couldn’t quite identify. “Abby—Babe… abs—” Your fingers pressed against her chest, the pressure almost painful. Instantly, her body leaned back, worry etched on her face. “What’s—”

You interrupted her, flinging the door open in a surge of urgency. “I’ll be right back. I’m sorry.” The door slammed shut behind you, leaving you alone without your phone, your keys—nothing but your racing heart, pounding as if it might burst from your chest.

Abby stared in silence, your figure receding into the darkness, swallowed by the quiet of the forest. Her breath hitched, her glistening lips bitten by her teeth to hold back tears. A whirlwind of thoughts swirled in her mind, all focused on you. After what felt like an eternity, she finally stepped out of the car.

You ran as far as your legs could carry you, the itch intensifying, a fierce burn crawling across your back. You cried out at the sensation, feeling your spine crack and stretch painfully. The muscles in your calves contracted, threatening to cramp. That same burning sensation enveloped your entire body, a mixture of stiffness and tension coursing through you. It felt as if you were morphing into something unrecognizable.

Your teeth shifted, becoming sharper and thicker, while fur began to sprout over your skin. Your once soft and fluffy hair transformed into a wild, chaotic mane. Pain shot through your face as it contorted into a more animalistic form, your whines and whimpers twisting into hisses and growls. And then, a loud bark erupted from your throat, a sound that seemed entirely foreign to you.

Your clothes lay shredded on the floor, a horrifying testament to your true self. You felt a mix of fear and disgust wash over you, unable to comprehend how this had happened. Your heart pounded loudly in your chest, and your senses were on high alert. You could feel her presence, sense her, and even catch the scent of her—a primal hunger rising within you. Despite that, you managed to run further away. You didn’t want to hurt her, nor did you want to be hurt by her.

But her voice lingered in your mind as if she were right next to you. The sweat mingled with the pine-scented soap she used, the lingering alcohol of her perfume still clinging to her skin. You remembered how tender and soft she felt, how you had bitten her before. Your nails had sunk into her skin, a delicious temptation that stirred a craving within you—one that would be too painful to ignore. The urgency only intensified as her name escaped her lips in desperation.

She was searching for you, her ragged breathing driving you wild. The sound of her voice made your hunger grow. Abby was the easiest, most delectable prey you could imagine. Yet, this wasn’t you—not really. You would never fantasize about her blood or her skin.

Time passed as you put distance between yourselves, the darkness deepening around you. Her voice gradually faded, and the primal hunger within you grew restless, seeking someone to satiate it. Your mouth, nails, and teeth had all been preoccupied with a small creature. You looked down at it, flinching as it screamed in pain. Its eyes were dull, devoid of life, the red staining its tiny body stark against its grayish-white skin.

Your feet dragged you onward, and you eventually caught a glimpse of her a few meters away. Horror filled her face as she stared at the remnants of your clothes scattered across the floor. There was no blood, no visible harm that she could see. But if you were hurt, shouldn’t she have heard? The dry leaves crunched beneath her feet, mixing with the sounds of the breeze and distant traffic. The light from her phone illuminated the path ahead, as if she were hoping to spot you or find someone who could help. But all that responded was a low growl, making her heart stop.

You practically ran toward her, not caring or thinking about the gruesome scene before Abby. She had nowhere to escape, no weapons to defend herself with, even if she wanted to. Fear lit up her pretty eyes, bracing for pain, expecting to feel teeth sinking into her skin or a searing pain somewhere in her body. But it wasn’t like that. Instead, she saw the shine of weirdly human eyes. A long, furry figure lurked in the shadows, whining and groaning in pain, red dripping from its mouth.

The growls grew louder, a morbid echo that matched the erratic rhythm of your heartbeat. Her once-white shoes were now caked in dirt, and beads of cold sweat began to form on her brow. You felt the raggedness within you begin to fade, the scene around you blurring as pain overwhelmed your senses. Yet, amid the chaos, you could hear the steady thump of her heart; despite its irregularity, it brought you a sense of security.

The chill of the earth pressed against your body as you lay among the dirt and grass, your hair cascading across your face, swaying in the breeze. You locked eyes with her, and you thought that if anyone were meant to end you, it should have been her. But Abby didn’t flinch; she only took a few cautious steps closer. Her hands raised her phone toward you, illuminating the darkness for a moment before she quickly turned the light off, causing you to glance away from the sudden brightness.

“Baby… what happened?” she murmured, her voice gentle, devoid of the disgust you had braced yourself for. Confusion enveloped you, making it hard to comprehend anything. All you could see were your nails, caked with dirt beneath them, and the raw scratches you had received when you fled. Your body fought against relaxation, reminiscent of the ache that follows a cramp.

Tears slipped from your eyes only when you met her gaze. Though she wouldn’t say it, the disgust was clear on her face. “Hey… hey,” Abby cooed, cupping your face in her hands as she examined you, concern etched across her features as she noticed every scratch. You looked at her, not with fear but with adoration. Even if she were to hurt you, it would be alright because it was her—it was Abby inflicting the pain.

“Go…” you whispered, glancing down between your bodies, even as she held you tightly. “What? No—no, I don’t—” she stammered, clearly at a loss for words for once in her stubborn, intelligent life. “Come here…” Her hand cradled the back of your head, holding you firmly, warm and comforting. “I’m a monster, Abby… please.” You nestled against her neck, inhaling the pine scent you had longed for.

“Is this what happened?” she asked, and you nodded, unwilling to offer any excuses—it wasn’t a choice you had made. “I didn’t want to hurt you.” You lifted your head slightly to look at her. “You bit me, and I felt something… I just didn’t want to hurt you,” you murmured.

“Babe… look at me,” she whispered. “You haven’t hurt me before… why would it be different now?” Her lips pressed against your forehead, her touch filled with understanding. “You looked at me like—”

Your voices intertwined, but hers prevailed. “I saw your clothes.” She gestured toward the torn fabric scattered on the ground, then turned back to you. Your gaze lingered on the remnants, filled with worry. “I was worried you got hurt… that’s all.”

Silence hung heavily between you, her grip steady and reassuring as your body trembled with uncertainty. “I love you… how cool is it to have a super strong, hairy girlfriend?” she joked, a playful attempt to lighten the moment. You chuckled softly at her words, then pressed a tender kiss to her lips. “I love you too, and I’m sorry,” you replied, leaning in to lay a gentle trail of kisses against her mouth until your body finally succumbed to its exhaustion.

Abby held you close, her hands enveloping your cold skin with a mix of adoration and tenderness. Her warmth was exactly what you craved, grounding you in the midst of your turmoil.

You slid your fingers beneath her sweatpants, just playing with the edge of her boxers. The back of her thighs hit the grass beneath, her hands cupping your ass to guide you over her lap, and you follow. The tips of your fingers leave her pants to caress the soft of her stomach, over her abs. Her smile turns gentle under your touch, breaking the kiss to look at her pretty girl. Your eyes were tainted in yellow, pupils dilated and a blinding shine in them. Thin fur still adorning your skin, purple-like lips, plump and glistening. And your fangs, white tips showing very slightly.

"Let me have you..." the look on your eyes hinted a lost one, wandering over her face until they took control, guiding you to her neck to taint her skin into purple and red. Your tongue sucked and nibbled, just the smallest pressure and your fangs would dig deliciously into her pretty skin. Abby, your Abby, was whimpering.

"So good..." Your words were a murmur, as soothing as your touch. The hoodie on her body clung to your hands with a feral touch, gripping at it to get more of her displayed for you to enjoy and feast. Abby’s hands moved over her own body, taking the hoodie off her body. Her back pressed against the stiff of a massive tree behind her- it looked so from her position. Head tilted to the side, her braid hanging on the same side. Her eyes looked at the dark of the sky, the little starts adorning it with a shine as pretty as the moon. "Fuck- baby..." Her mouth opened in the blink of an eye at the sudden circles over her clit. The pad of her fingers clung to your lower back, cupping your ass with each hand and digging her fingers enough to leave a bruise.

Your lips went back to hers, abandoning her neck for a few minutes. "You're so wet." You murmured in between, devouring her whole as you much needed. "Yeah?" she mocked you back, sliding her fingers in between your pussy, scissoring them from behind. A laugh brushed your lips, contagious. Her smile looked so pretty, eventually getting interrupted to gasp at how good your fingers felt on her clit.

"I really needed you... real, real bad." Your fingers curl inside her pussy with ease, sliding in and out in a slow peace. "Oh- Fuck." The tone is quiet, similar to a gasp for air. It's unsteady and ridiculously delicious to your ears. "Thanks baby.... I love you so much." Your lips kiss the skin of her throat, sensing her quiet guilp. Her fingers interrupt, curling inside you while her other hand cups at your tits, playing with each nipple in a harsh almost painful way.

Abby can feel you smiling on her neck. The vibration of your moans guide her eyes to the back of her head, closing them to just enjoy. You clench around her so good, and your voice? "Fuck baby..."

The palm of her hands slides down on your body, taking in every inch of skin you've got displayed for her to enjoy. Once on your hip bone you get the catch, riding her fingers.

Her moans grow louder, yours become growls and groans. You can hear her wet pussy squeezing your fingers, the feeling "So fucking good baby, so good." Her head nods, digging her fingers into your skin.

The tender freckled skin adorning her now half exposed shoulders slowly grows red. Your nails break into her skin, and for a few seconds your fangs itch to do the same. The sight of her slightly blood covered neck and lips only serves for your stomach to knot. Her fingers feel so good inside you, curling and thrusting with ease at how wet you are.

"Gonna cum for me, Abby? yeah?" The frown on your face turns into a pity curve. She's out of breath, so determined to make you cum at the same time, to have that pretty sight of your teeth showing through your open mouth. To then kiss those plump delicious kiss into a sloppy kiss and end up covered in drool. "Yeah....yeah"

And just like that you please her one final time. Back curved and obscene wet sounds filling the now warmth air between both of your bodies. Your nails fight to not hurt her, ripping the white of her tank top very slightly. "Fuck... baby, please-" she's rambling, pulling you close to her just to hold you.

"Love you, so much." Your lips press over her half scratched skin, a quiet apology and thankfulness for her gentleness towards you. Mostly for fucking you so good and kissing your blood covered lips, for letting you have her.

[emchante]

key: ᡣ𐭩 - fluff ☆ - smut ꩜ - angst ⭔ - event

for rambles/drabbles that come from chatting with followers via asks, check out the tags with the desired drivers initials (i.e dr, mv, cs).

daniel ricciardo

thighs ☆

no flaw in sight ᡣ𐭩 ☆

1-800-SEXHOTLINE ☆

happy trails ☆

proving his worth ☆ ⭔

pinned to perfection ☆ ⭔

mechanic!daniel drabble ☆

max verstappen

post race present ☆

broken confessions ꩜

when the silence breaks ꩜ ᡣ𐭩 (part 2 to broken confessions)

tease and release ☆

drowsy desires ☆ ⭔

oscar piastri

wet dreams ☆

discipline and desires ☆

from frustration to fulfilment ☆ ⭔

pleasure from your pleas ☆ ⭔

franco colapinto

crossing the line

lando norris

seed of desire ☆

charles leclerc

full throttle pressure ☆ ⭔

lewis hamilton

sunrise sensations ☆ ⭔

marked by jealousy ☆ ⭔

george russell

victory’s embrace ☆ ⭔

elegant reverence ☆ ⭔

2024 © emchante. do not modify/translate my work on any platforms.

[rory-cakes]

A Buck and A Canary

What was she doing here?

Why was she smiling at him like nothing happened?

He left their child alone!

He let her die!

He lied to her!

It has been one week since the battle at the Habin Hotel. They were starting to finish the reconstruction of the hotel when something strange happened. An angel appeared. 

“Hello! My name is Y/n Altruist, and the higher-ups of heaven have sent me to oversee the progress of the hotel!” 

“THEY CHANGED THEIR MINDS!?” Charlie was practically vibrating with joy. 

“Why?” Vaggie asked skeptically. 

“Well, unlike before, we have proof that your hotel works! A certain serpent has shown up in heaven!”

“Sir Penitouse is alive!” everyone was filled with overwhelming joy. 

“Also”

Y/n bowed in respect. 

“I deeply apologize for the exterminations. They were never supposed to happen. Sera and Adam were working alone in that sense.” 

Charlie grabbed her hand and helped her back up. 

“So really, no one knew? How is that possible?”

“The seven virtues are the only defense against evil on Earth so they have their hands full with that, I’m afraid. I was at the meeting and I brought up the issue as soon as I could!”

“Why do you care so much about what happens to us? No offense, we’re really grateful you did what you did! But why?”

“Well, I'm afraid my answer is a little selfish. My husband is down here. He wasn’t a good man but he was a good husband and he would have been a good father hadn’t he died.”

How did an angel like her end up with someone down here?

Wait-

An angel like her?

“Im sorry, but what is your husband’s na-”

“Birdy?”

“Alastor?”

Alastor sat uncomfortably on the plush couch in his room. Y/n sat equally as uncomfortable in a chair of a similar design. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife. 

Alastor avoided making eye contact with his wife. I mean she had to know who he truly was at this point. How could she not?

“Alastor.”

She breaks the silence. 

“I’ve missed you dearly, my darling.”

Why was she smiling?

“I know what you did, and while I can’t say I’m pleased, that doesn’t change the fact that you are my husband.”

What?

“You cherished and loved me for so many years. You took care of me and Eudora. You loved me with everything you had.”

This isn’t right.

“So, if you haven’t stopped loving me in the time we’ve been apart,”

No

“I’d like to be your wife still.”

Alastor finally looked at his ethereal wife. She was so good. She shouldn’t be corrupted by his darkness. 

“I left her alone.”

“So did I.”

Y/n smiled at the man in front of her. This was her Alastor. This was the man she fell in love with. Sure, there were blazing red flags and she should probably be running for the hills. However, she can’t deny the urge to be with him. 

“I’ve been watching over her.”

“You have? How is she?”

“She’s lived a long life. She’s been married to her wife for about 40 years now. She adopted three kids and has a bunch of grandkids. She had her own radio show, Al!”

“She did?”

“She did.”

Y/n moves to sit beside him and grabs his hand with both of hers. Alastor finally pulls her closer,

“You deserve so much more than I am. I cursed you in life I can’t let you get hurt again.”

“You are all that I want, and if I get cursed because of it, that will have been my decision.”

She places her hand on his face, and he leans into it. 

“My darling Alastor, there is nothing you can do for me to stop loving you.”

“Alright, Birdy, I’ll have you for as long as you wish to stay.”

And so the Buck was reunited with his Canary.  

A/N: Hi! I hope you liked the last part of Alastor's Birdy! If you have scenarios you would like me to write with this au, just send me an ask and ill get to it as soon as I can!

Taglist: @crazed-flower, @nanamunath, @preferably-fictional, @eccedentesiast-sapphic, @leximus98, @cupidsgift, @mag-chan, @stygianoir, @thereeallink, @yelloeukulele, @mariaclarade-la-cruz1, blurpleuni-squid, @galaxywing-has-adhd, @just-here-reading, @deez-nuts0, @strawberry-gothic, @purplerose291,@1-800-mocha, @trashbin-nie, @queenmizuki, @nkirukaj @bennythebitch @otherthoughtsofbu, @fantasycantasy, @hunnybee11626, @notally-tormal, @valerie-36, @lovingyeet, @holographicage, @har-har-harvey, @i-love-jafar, @cupidsgift, @meow-meowo, @theblueslytherin, @deadt3tinside, @lyralibra, @the-unhinged-raccoon, @avitute, @alastorswifeee, @stygianoir, @sideshow-b0b, @deadlymouse123, @mysingularitybts, @emotionalfangirl2002, @t0xic1vi, @goodlittlepup, @starsatmyhome, @wendds, @reader3, @redfoxgotlost, @hurthermore, @frostychurro @isa-dragon

[ihopeiexplode]

📱“Annoying much?” [← Previous | Next →]

—

Y/N would get into the car with Sukuna following along as he sat in the driver's seat

"is it safe for you to be driving? What if we crash?"

"I know how to drive, unlike you"

"I can drive perfectly fine."

"sure acting as if you didn't almost run over someone,"

"..."

"exactly, keep your mouth shut or else I'm crashing this car into the damn sea"

—

After about a 30 minute drive both of them finally reached their destination, they'd get out of the car and into the cafe

As they lined up the barista immediately recognized y/n

"heyy welcome back! The usual— Ooo who's that? Your boyfriend?"

"NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT. NO."

"HIM? NO. YUCKS EW GROSS NO."

After she finished yelling Sukuna would be looking at y/n absolutely dumbfounded..

After she finished ordering they would both take a seat at the corner of the cafe,

"was is necessary to yell? Could've just said no"

"very much necessary. Me personally? I wouldn't date you even if we were the last people on earth."

"hate me that much?"

"what do you think?"

What does he think?

Honestly? If he's being honest his pride crumbled slightly, what do you mean the person he likes doesn't want to be with him?

She'd just roll her eyes before speaking

"anyways, what are we supposed to do"

"do you really think I'd know?"

"no, your the reason we probably failed,"

"oh please, me? How is it my fault, you heard the professor, our collage was nothing but a bunch of pictures stuck together, and who was in charge of that? You. So you shouldn't be talking."

Before y/n could say anything else her food finally came and then suddenly she's all happy and joyful..

"and they call me the bipolar one.."

As y/n ate Sukuna would just stare, once she finished eating she would put the plate away and just stare back at him, as she was about to say something suddenly he moved his arm closer till his fingers were touching her face, then he'd wipe some crumbs off the corner of her lips

She was about to protest before they both looked at the window because they heard a bang coming from it, when they looked they saw both yuki and gojo staring at them with a shock face before they both ran away

Both of them just shrugged it off, before Sukuna and move his hand away y/n already did it for him by forcefully pushing it away

"anyway..what do we even do?"

"dunno talk?"

"about? It's not like we have anything in common"

"say something about your friends and I'll do the same"

"okay?.."

—

"I KNOW RIGHT? honestly how does geto tolerate gojo"

"gojos alright but sometimes he makes me want to rip my hair out"

"EXACTLY?? NOT TO MENTI—"

before y/n could finish her sentence suddenly one of the barista came up

"heyy guys so we're about to close so you gotta leave, come back tomorrow?"

"how long have we been here..?"

"exactly 4 hours..."

"oh alright, see you tomorrow then!"

The barista would wave the two off as they exited the cafe

Sukuna would turn to look at y/n and back at the car as he pulled out the keys from his pocket and went into the drivers seat while y/n went into the passengers seat

The drive back to there dorms were quiet, Too quiet.

That is until Sukuna broke the silence

"well that was fun wasn't it?"

"I guess"

"so where to tomorrow?"

"dunno,"

"what about the park?"

"yeah that works,"

—

[⛩️] @: Likes & Reblogs R appreciated! ^^

A/N: here's the next part guys pls don't take away my rights to listen to music 💔💔

Taglist: @catobsessedlady @hellomeow12 @0-candlecove-0 @shivzypuff @swirlingcurses @1-800-choke-that-ho @attackonnat @chilichopsticks @getoxmahito @memenojutsu @uhnanix @ichorstainedskin @needtoloveoutloud @love-me-satoru (comment to be added/removed)

[jay-arts-t]

October slide is up on us chronically ill individuals so here are some Logan, Laura and Wade headcanons.

I'd like to think Logan experiences pretty similar symptoms to EDS (So more like HSD since they may not experience all related symptoms) since his joints have to hold together adamantium bones. He gets that deep aching twang in his knees, his back hurts more no matter what position he sleeps in.

Wade jokes that he's going into hibernation because Logan starts to struggle with getting up in the morning - not because he's a lazy lump, he just can't bring himself to get out of the warm little pile they've got going on. But once Wade realizes it's because Logan gets chronic pain as well he's investing in an electric blanket to keep them all warm. Logan lives in that blanket now. Their electric bill is through the roof.

I imagine whenever something dislocates or drifts he just casually shoves it back in place as best he can, unless it's his ribs. There isn't much he can do about it. The first time he mentioned that his ribs drift Wade went, "I'm sorry your WHAT?? Put them back???" while Laura just nodded in understanding

Laura experiences pretty similarly to Logan since they have the same conditions. Well, at least in the movie franchise they both have fully adamantium skeletons. I think in the comics they surgically removed her claws, coated them in adamantium and re-implanted them. Pretty sure they did the same thing with Daken with the muramasa blade- but that's a whole can of worms for another time.

I think Laura gets a lot more of the internal issues rather than a lot of joint pain. Yes it's still there, but she has a harder time with stomach pain, her periods are more painful because even internal tissue is affected by EDS. So essentially if she's having a Not Fun Time™ she's crawling over to Logan and using him as a heating pad. Which Logan doesn't mind because 1 Yippie Daughter Time, 2 Yippie Affection, and 3 the pressure feels good on his joints and they both end up falling asleep for the lovable 3pm 6-hour nap.

Laura 🤝 Wade - silly patterned compression socks. You will never see that woman not wearing them. She gets Logan Garfield ones and he wears holes into them.

Once the first leaf falls from the trees Wade is BUNDLED. Warm hat? Check. 3 shirts, 2 hoodies, 2 pants plus compression leggings, 3 socks, and a big ol' winter coat. Logan calls him ridiculous and reminds him that winter and autumn aren't as consistent as they used to be, and they'll probably be back in the 80s the next day. But Wade isn't hearing any of it. He's staying vigilant. He knows his body. It doesn't matter if it's hot or cold, as soon as fall hits his body is like, "hey you know that healing factor you have? Damn where'd it go???"

Laura gets him a portable heating pad.

Vanessa helps Logan learn about what foods are easy on Wade's stomach and which ones to avoid making so he's not in more pain than he already is.

Once winter hits Logan is happy because he's lone wolf cringe and likes the silence and solidarity of winter. Baby you're not getting that in the inner city parts of New York. You're getting slush in the sidewalks and the distinct smell of artificial salt and probably most definitely sewage.

On the other hand, Laura and Wade are miserable. They miss summer. Everything was better when it was hot. Their only reprieve is that it's soup season and also hot beverages are more available (besides coffee, though Laura is a big coffee person. Logan hates it, she calls him a pussy. Wade also hates it unless it's iced with 800 pumps of vanilla and caramel and creamer (real)). I think Wade would be a big eggnog lover but it destroys his stomach. Logan has caught him chugging the carton in the middle of the night. It was disgusting. Logan does the same thing with apple cider.

That's all I got for now

[biblio-smia]

The prompt from list 1 w/ mike Schmidt? The print where it says “what can I do to help?”

Maybe reader has her menstrual cycle and she doesn’t want to tell him because she’s embarrassed?

here u go!! enjoy <3 | part of v’s 800 follower celebration!

mike stands beside you at the edge of the bed, hovering over you protectively like an angel. it's clear something is wrong by the way you refuse to get up, your knees tightly curled up to your chest, and the frown that won't disappear from your face. mike is forced to play detective, seeing as you decline to tell him exactly what's going on.

"what can i do to help?" mike asks sweetly. you turn to look at him; his demeanor is gentle, his eyes are full of concern.

you groan. "go away." you roll back over, taking the blanket and pulling it over your head.

"well, at least you're not sick," you hear mike's slightly muted voice say from outside the little cocoon you hide in. a few moments of suspicious silence pass before you feel the spot beside you sink down with mike's weight. you feel him shift beside you, sure that if you stick your head out you'll see him staring at you.

well, you need more air anyway.

you pull the blanket down partially - and as suspected, you're face-to-face with mike. it's quiet, but while mike may struggle to find the right words to say, he wastes no time with the gentle touches. his hand finds your shoulder (only struggling a little), rubbing up and down your arm softly.

"will you tell me what's wrong?" mike's voice is sweeter than sugar when he speaks, not too loud in case your head hurts.

you move, but you move closer and when you groan, it's into mike's chest. the warmth he radiates doubles as comfort, bringing some relief to your body as you cling to him.

"nothing," you insist quite unconvincingly, burrowing your head deeper into mike.

but mike doesn't push. he only digs his way underneath the blanket with you, hands on your back soothingly. he's desperately hoping you'll fess up soon because he's running out of options.

you groan again, fingers messing with a loose thread on mike's shirt as you try to avoid looking at him.

"my uterus is bleeding," you finally admit, looking incredibly deflated.

mike holds back any relief from showing on his face, glad it's just that (he seriously feared you were going to tell him you were breaking up with him) though he currently would not dare to express this to your face. maybe next week.

"okay," mike nods, giving a quick press of his lips to your forehead. "that's fine. that's fixable. well - not fixable, but we can make it better."

you're quiet, still messing with mike's shirt. your fingers ball up some of the fabric as you manage the strength to look up at mike. "we?"

"we," mike nods in confirmation. he doesn't mind expressing the relief he feels when your expression of despair finally cracks with a smile. mike pulls you closer and adjusts until he hears a pleased sigh from your lips.

he holds you there for a few moments, transferring you the warmth from his hands and his chest. mike's fingers draw small patterns on your exposed skin, acting as an all-encompassing, at-your-service heating pad.

mike doesn't mind the new job, enjoying the proximity he keeps to you and pleased to know he's able to do something that makes you feel better. mike notices your eyes beginning to close, glad you're able to get some more rest.

"now will you tell me what you need?" mike asks before you can fall to sleep, wanting to be prepared by the time you wake up.

you groan so softly it's more like a hum, sending small vibrations through mike. "it's a whole list," you complain.

"i'll get everything on it and more."

mike feels your smile against his skin.

[a-midnight-smoke]

Keep him from breaking

___

Miguel O'Hara x m!reader

___

content: angst, hurt/comfort, a bit of fluff

trigger warnings: panic attack (not overly described but it's there), self-harm connected with said panic attack (scratching, pulling hair), mention of skipping meals

words: ~1 800

___

So, I finally wrote something again, and who would have thought that the thing breaking my 2 year writer's block would be fucking Miguel O'hara (it was predictable).

I don't agree with writers who characterize him as this suave flirt. Like, that is a broken, emotionally constipated, traumatized man, he would NOT make you call him papi, but then again, to each their own, write and read what you want, idc that much.

Miguel is a pathetic, wet cat, and so I wrote him breaking down in tears because he thought something happened to you. Call it emotional diarrhea after weeks of constipation. And that's my truth.

It's my first time posting a fic anywhere, I wrote this in one evening and then kept tweaking it for like 2 months and debating if I should post this cause I'm an anxious bitch, but finally said fuck it we ball.

Also, I'm a trans guy, and so my reader character will also be. I may write a gender-neutral reader, but not a female one. It's not really important in this particular story, but just so you know.

Also, also, english isn't my first language, so sorry for any mistakes. I appreciate feedback !

Anyway, if you like it you should like and reblog !! Thanks and have fun reading !!

___

Miguel's lungs were burning, but he couldn't stop. Not when he didn't know if you were safe. He needed to get to you. Make sure you're fine.

He crashed into your bedroom window, almost breaking it in the process. His red eyes darted to your bed, where you were not. You weren't in your bed. He called out your name but was only met with deafening silence.

He ran to the door, yanking it off the hinges in the process. Miguel could feel panic building in his chest, heart hammering in his ears.

He was in a trance, looking in every empty space in your apartment, calling for you, begging for you, and thrashing it when he didn't find you. He was breathing faster and harder by the seconds, his hands flying to his head to grab and pull at the strands harshly. Where were you? Someone must have kidnapped you, right? Why else would the apartment be empty?

The slight burn in his scalp didn't help to ease his rising panic, so he started clawing at his arms with his talons as he tried to think of what to do. He couldn't lose you, he couldn't. He needed you, more than life itself. He would tear the city apart to find you and had half a mind to do it already. He was heading for the window when-

The quiet janking of keys stopped him in place, staring at the front door, holding his breath. When he saw you enter, safe, sound and humming to yourself, something broke in him. Weeks of tension and stress finally catching up with him.

He pulled you into his arms, hiding his face in your neck as he started crying and hyperventilating, broken sobs escaping him, interrupted with occasional coughs as you stood still, stunned. His broad body enveloping yours, feeling you. He had to make sure he hadn't completely lost his mind, that you were really here.

As you got over your initial shock, you brought one hand to cradle Miguel's head, scratching slightly at his scalp and the other to trace soothing circles across his back, muttering soft reassurances.

But he couldn't stop hyperventilating, so you gently tried to pry him off of yourself, to no avail.

"Miguel? I need you to look at me, sweetheart." You cooed at him, and after some more coaxing, he pulled away, making sure you were holding his hands. Sobs wrecked through his body, face covered in tears and snot, bloodshot eyes accentuating the redness of his irises. He couldn't look away from you, couldn't stop touching you, afraid that you would disappear if he did.

You brought his hands to your chest, making it a point to breathe deeply and evenly.

"Breathe with me, Mig. Can you do that for me?" you spoke softly and slowly, trying to calm him down. He took a shaky breath that was interrupted by a coughing fit.

"Take it easy, sweetie. Just breathe with me."

It took some time, but his breathing started to finally even out, his sobs now just hiccups. His legs gave out, and you both tumbled to the floor, Miguel quickly wrapping you in his arms once again, listening and feeling your heartbeat. You hugged him back, resuming your earlier ministrations until he stopped crying completely. You stayed like that, on the floor of your trashed apartment, until Miguel spoke in a shaky, raspy from crying voice.

"I thought something… that something happened to you. When I couldn't find you here. That somebody took you from me." He grabbed onto you harder, digging his talonless fingers into your waist when you started to pull away, but you persisted, wanting to see his face. He reluctantly pulled away again, still holding your waist.

"Why would something happen to me? Why would somebody take me?" You would be lying if you said that seeing your, normally emotionally constipated, boyfriend in such a state of disarray didn't make you feel a bit anxious.

"T'was just this guy I was interrogating, let 'im get into my head." he mumbled. In hindsight, the guy was just a pawn, probably didn't know anything and was bluffing to get a rise out of Miguel. Which, combined with his high stress levels and deteriorating mental health, led to the situation at hand.

He tensed when he heard you sigh. Were you annoyed with him? Were you mad at him? You should be, he destroyed your apartment. You should just throw him out, really. He was good for nothing and did not deserve you. It would be better for everyone if he-

"Hey," your voice was still so soft, "get out of your head, Miguel." he slowly looked up to see you staring at him with a worried, but not angry, expression. You cradled his face, Miguel leaning into it instinctively and closing his eyes. You looked over him, over his bruised face, bloody lips and bloodshot eyes with dark bags underneath. He looked thinner than the last time you saw him, with his sunken cheeks. You scrunched your eyebrows.

"When was the last time you slept? And ate?" Well, that's embarrassing. Miguel looked away, feeling his cheeks heat up.

"Miguel..."

"Like four days ago? " He wished he hadn't said anything, he usually didn't, he would insist he was fine, but he was just so tired the words slipped from him without much thought. "Food's making me feel nauseas, so I started skipping meals."

The look on your face was something he didn't want to see ever again.

"Miguel, you can't keep doing this. You should have told me, or Gabriel, or anyone really. It's not healthy," you tried to catch his eyes, which he was expertly avoiding. He grimaced.

"You all have enough on your plate as it is. I make sure the multiverse won't collapse in on itself, I should be able to take care of myself. I'm a grown man." He withdrew his hands completely, ignoring the part of his brain screaming at him to not let go of you, going back to scratching at himself, which caused you to look down. Your breath caught in your throat. His forearms were completely covered in blood, which was still seeping from some of the deeper wounds where he tore his suit. You tried to take his hands into yours, but he crossed his arms over his chest, continuing to avoid your gaze.

"Miguel," you started, voice firm, but with a soft note, "you are not a burden. You never could be, not to me. I love you so much, it pains me to see you hurt yourself like this. It doesn't matter that you're a grown man, you shouldn't feel like you have to keep everything to yourself, like you can't reach out to me, or anybody, for help. Let me take care of you. You deserve to be taken care of, no matter what you brain is telling you." You sighed, calming your racing heart.

"I'm sorry, Miguel," he snapped his eyes to you.

"Why are you sorry?" His voice was quiet and hoarse.

"I'm sorry that I didn't see you struggling sooner, that you felt like you couldn't talk with me about it. Four days? Without sleep and food? You have to be exhausted, even with your mutations. How are you even thinking clearly right now?" He doesn't, that's why your apartment is trashed. He looks around the destroyed room, feeling his anxiety creep back up. He opened his mouth to talk, but you beat him to it.

"Don't worry, you'll help me clean up after you get some sleep and eat." You pulled both of you up, struggling a little with Miguel, who had gone quiet again. He let himself be guided to the bathroom, just now starting to feel the burning from his arms.

You undress the bigger man and move him around, all fight having completely sucked out of him. You wash his wounds carefully before stitching the deeper ones and starting to prepare a bath. Now, in the space of your bathroom, the only room that wasn't a complete mess, Miguel realized how exhausted he really was. Guess you really can't sustain yourself on pure spite and adrenaline.

When the water is ready, you guide him into the tub before getting in yourself. You were never more grateful for the big bathtub, fitting Miguel's bruised and tired body, and you straddling him. The water is amazingly hot, already working magic on his tense muscles. You start washing his face with a soft washcloth, careful of his split lip, cleaning him of snot and leftover tears and Miguel's cheeks are heating up, his hands gripping your waist harder at being handled so delicately. He still couldn't get used to your attentiveness. Your hands are gentle on his skin, moving down to his neck and chest, washing away the sweat and grime, mindful of his bruises and leaving soft pecks after washing them and working through the knots in his muscles.

He's finally starting to relax as you move yourself to wash his hair. Your fingers carding through tangled hair, starting to unknot it. You're humming a calming tune, while Miguel sits with closed eyes. Finally letting himself be taken care of. Letting himself be vulnerable. He makes a noise low in his throat, making his chest vibrate a bit before stopping abruptly. You don't pay it any mind, not wanting to draw him out of his relaxed state.

You finish washing Miguel, drain the water, and dry him off, wrapping the towel around his waist and grabbing another to dry his hair. You wrap up all remaining cuts and then guide him to your bedroom, thankful that he at least didn't flip the whole bed upside down. Among the chaos, you find his clothes that he left, helping him dress, since he was practically already asleep, and laying him down on the bed. After getting him under the covers picked up from the floor, you pull away to get ready for bed when he grabs your wrist and looks at you sleepily, but still a little panicked.

"I'll just get ready for bed quickly and get back, okay, sweetheart?" After a moment, he nods slightly and lets go of you, still reluctantly, but he doesn't let himself fall asleep while you're not with him.

When you come back, Miguel is laying with his eyes barely open, fighting off sleep. You smile at the sight and go lay down beside him. He immediately brings you closer, pulling you on top of him, but you just tangle your hand into his locks and listen to his slowing heartbeat.

"You okay, now?" You whisper into the dark but are only met with Miguel's quiet snores. You press one more kiss to his chest, right over his heart.

Sleep never came as easy as tonight.

___

Yes, Miguel stopped himself from purring.

I'm thinking of making a second part that's just pure domesticity and fluff, we'll see.

Anyway, my dog puked on my carpet while I was making final edits to this just now.

[captainlunaxmen]

All For the Cameras

Chapter 11

Finnick Odair x fem!reader

Chapter 11 ladies and gentlemen!🥳

I'm sorry for keeping you waiting so much, but with my life right now, it's hard to find any good time to put my mind into writing.

Chapter summary: time to deal with the aftereffects of Capitol's imprisonment.

Chapter warning: mention of being raped, description of torture, panic attack, Finnick being a sweetie pie.

Tag list

@guacam011y @justtrying2getby @idontevenknow1359 @alexandra-001 @bambikitten @maggiecc @redh00dsbf @haneybunny @1-800-styles @sisiking99 @merromimo @yourdailymemedelivery @regsg18 @gordorio @bambikitten @gracieeleanorr @shev3nom @honethatty12 @savingprivatecass @erindiggory @martahabla @sterredem @aawdrea @wpdarlingpan @strawberry--fawn @barbarathewanderer @ih8books @a-mysterious-potato @mayonesavegana @celinaiscrying @katherinejess @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @abaker74 @syd649 @meikoo @secretsicanthideanymore @p1stachi @laylasshiftingtonight @yourmumstoy @s0urw00lf @kermits-bitch @littleshadow17

@piya-re @ivymyers @potao-o @wqstedyouths @kaceyh24 @miniatureblazellama @lillell4670 @11jaz @f1blogs @ooddiieesblog

I'm sorry if I can't tag everyone😔🥺

Masterlist

Finnick's Pov

Finnick is back at making knots, he need to keep his hands busy. Katniss and him are waiting for any news in his room.

"She's the reason we got ready on time." Katniss suddenly says.

"Uh?"

"Coin told me that Peeta confirmed her fears, but Y/n's message got her to be ready." She explains.

"Yeah? What did she say?" Finnick can't help but ask.

"Quick. Hide. Attack." She replies, "she had to choose her words carefully, but she managed."

"She's smart." Finnick wipes away a tear, "always been. I just hope they're okay."

"Me too." She whispers softly.

They stay in silence, waiting and waiting.

Finnick fears they're been sitting here for ages now. Thankfully, the door opens and Haymitch's head appears.

"They're back."

They on they feet in no time, running to the hospital side of the building.

As they enter the room they immediately hear Johanna screaming and snapping at the nurses and doctors.

"Johanna.." Kantiss gasps.

Her head is shaved and she looks like she's not been eating for weeks.

As Katniss sees and runs to Gale, Haymitch and Finnick follows her, Boggs being close.

"Where's Y/n?" Finnick can't help himself.

"She's resting." He answers.

"Why?!" Finnick's panicking hands holds the knot, "did something happen... is she okay?"

"It's not serious... but she was bleeding when we got to them." Boggs reassures him.

"What..?"

"Calm down." Haymitch puts a hand on his shoulder, "can we see her?"

"Of course, she's in the room next to Peeta's." Boggs makes way and they follow him.

They enter, quietly not to wake her up in case she's resting.

"Miss L/n?" Boggs calls.

"Please..." her broken voice almost brings tears in Finnick's eyes, "stop it..."

"It's alright, you're safe.." Boggs reassures her, he signals Finnick and Haymitch to stop where they are, "I promise, you are safe now. And... There's someone here for you."

"I'm... stop...pl.. please."

"What did they do to her?" Finnick broken voice comes out in a whisper, Haymitch hardly hears it.

"She's safe now. Let's focus on that, okay?" Haymitch puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Y/n... I'm colonel Boggs, district 13's head of security. You're in 13." Boggs tries again, "you are safe."

"It's not real, it's not real, it's not real..." she keeps repeating, using her hands as a shield to cover her face.

"I'm not sure, now's the best time. Whatever they did to her, I think it's-" Boggs starts to explain.

"Y/n..?" Finnick can't stop her name coming out of his mouth, he watches her stopping her movement. If before she was rocking back and forth covering her face, now she's as still as a rock. "Y/n... it's me."

The other two watch the scene carefully, silently.

Their eyes fixed on her next move. She slowly move her hands down, hesitantly. Her eyes carefully raise to look up at him, only to fill up with tears once they're set fully on him.

"No... don't... please." She cowers back, shaking her head.

"I'm here, my love." Finnick instinctively rushes to her, when she flinches he stops, raising his hands up, "I promise."

"Oh no..." she sobs, "they caught you too..."

"No... no, my love." He's fully crying now.

"It's all my fault, it's all my fault, it's... all my fault... it's all...." she keeps whispering.

"Love..." Finnick tries again, but she's almost deaf to his voice. He looks at Haymitch for support, but finds him completely powerless.

"Y/n... it's alright." Haymitch moves to come closer, but a loud noise from the room next to hers catches their attention.

"What's going on?" Haymitch asks, Boggs immediately rushes out, "I'll be right back."

Finnick goes back at looking at Y/n, her small figure breaks his heart into millions of pieces. He searches into her for a glimpse of the fighter he knows, he notices it... he notices her hand blindly moving on the mattress towards him, he doesn't think she's completely aware of it.

He takes a deep breath and reaches out to touch her hand. Once their hands touch she retreats her hand and her eyes shoot back to him in less than a second. They stare into each other's eyes, Finnick stays as still as he can, afraid that any movement could make her run or disappear. After a long, never ending moment she reaches again for his hand.

"Is that... are you..." she takes shaky breaths looking at any part of his face, "you're real..?"

"I am..." he nods, trying again to hold her hand, she lets him, "I'm real, I'm here... and we're in district 13."

"13..?" She gaps, "really?"

"Really, my love." He nods, bringing her hand to his lips to kiss the back of it, "we're really here."

"Are..." she tries to fight her broken voice, "are you sure?"

"Very." He nods again, "you're not in the Capitol anymore. You're with me."

"I'm sorry... I'm afraid I'll ask you that too many times."

"You can ask me as much as you need to," Finnick tells her softly, "and I'll answer each time."

She starts to sob, and brings a hand to cover her mouth, Finnick can see her relieved smile and can finally feel some calmness after so long.

"Oh my god..." she lets out an incredulous laugh, but it ends quickly when they hear a knock on the door.

"Can we come in?"

"It's Haymitch." Finnick tells her.

"Haymitch's here?"

"Yes, we're all here, I promise. Katniss, Beetee, Plutarch. Safe." Finnick explains, "can he come in? Is that okay?"

When she nods Finnick calls for Haymitch to enter.

"Hey, princess." Haymitch greets as he enters the room, "how do you feel?"

"I... I think I'm... not in danger..." she answers on a soft voice.

"Well, we take what we can get." Haymitch smiles.

"What... happened?" She asks motioning to the room.

"I..." Haymitch's hesitant, he looks at Finnick for support, but Y/n's voice regain his attention.

"I can take it, Haymitch." She smiles, tiredly.

Finnick too smiles, happy to see her regaining her fight.

"Peeta attacked Katniss."

"What?" Finnick asks, alarmed and confused.

"We don't know why..." Haymitch shakes his head, "it doesn't make sense."

"Where is he now?" She asks, pulling her hand back to herself.

"Sedated."

Y/n nods, understanding. When she starts fidgeting again, Finnick gently takes her hands.

"It's okay." He whispers softly.

"I can see the gears in your head working, L/n, what is it?" Haymitch asks.

"Uh...it does make sense." She simply says, "it makes so much sense."

"What do you mean?"

"I..."

A knock interrupts her, and Plutarch's head comes into view.

"May I?" He asks, and opens the door once he got a nod, "how are you feeling?"

"Can I not get asked that question for the next... 10 years?" She weakly chuckle and Finnick squeeze her hands.

"Of course." Plutarch smiles reassuringly, "may I introduce you to someone?"

"I... guess."

"Do you think this is the right time?" Finnick asks, getting protective.

"We're heading towards a war, mr Odair, we can't afford such thing as right time." He states before opening the door again, letting President Coin in.

Y/n sits up straight, getting a pang of pain, Finnick's immediately checking on her, but gets dismissed almost immediately.

"Easy, miss L/n. I'm president Coin, I came here to thank you personally." President Coin smiles. "If it weren't for your hidden messages, we would've never been ready on time for the attack. You helped save lots of lives."

"I... it was really the least I could do, ma'am." Y/n casts her eyes down, at her hands in Finnick's.

"You risked your life. Without knowing for sure if we even could get those messages, we owe you." President Coin continues, "Thank you."

Y/n and Coin look at each other, Y/n still looks like she thinks herself not deserving a thank you.

"You're welcome." She nods, grateful.

"Whatever you need, I'd be honoured to be of assistance." The president adds.

"Thank you... especially for rescuing us."

"Sorry, to interrupt this moment, but we were hoping you could give us some more information." Plutarch chimes in.

"She just got here, coul-" Finnick starts, but her hand squeezing his stops him.

"It's okay." She whispers to him, then referring to everyone, "I might have some... clarification on what's going on with Peeta..."

They all listen carefully at what Y/n is explaining.

Finnick notices her wincing a little when she talks about Peeta's treatment. He wants to ask more, but he decides to give her more time.

He owes her.

Y/n's Pov

The first hours here in 13 have been... surreal, to say the least.

I still find it hard to believe this, I'm so afraid everything will turn out to be just another illusion created by the Capitol to torture me. Sometimes I can't even look at Finnick... touching his hands is a comfort... most of the time, but seeing him is simply too difficult now. He keeps talking to me, to keep me grounded, I think, keeping the nightmares away at least when I'm awake. I try to keep a brave face, though I fear he sees right through it sometimes.

"You don't have to, if you don't feel good." He tells me as we follow Boggs to Katniss' hospiral room.

"It's okay. I promise." I say, looking straight ahead.

"You don't have to be so brave all the time." He grabs my hand, to reassure me. I squeeze it back and take mine back almost immediately.

"Here." Boggs opens a door for us.

"Thank you." I say entering and as soon as I see Katniss I rush to her.

I'm so glad to see Prim there too. Knowing her mother and sister are safe are a relief.

I see her trying to speak, but Prim stops her.

"It's okay... I-I'm sorry." I tell her sitting next to her, seeing her confused expression I add, "I.."

"She thinks it's her fault." Finnick explains, "one of the many gifts from the Capitol."

I unconsciously flinch at that, the guilt eating me every moment of the day, I try to rationalise it, think that it can't be all my fault... but I can't stop it.

Katniss puts her hand on mine, to comfort me, so I look at her with a sad smile.

"Good, you're already here." Plutarch walks in, followed by Beetee and Gale too, "we can start with the explanations."

"Yes, uh... what they did to Peeta is called, they call it, hijacking." I start, fidgeting with my hands once again, "I think they started doing... it to him as soon as they got us... uh...it's about using fear to change the person's perception."

"They enhance it with tracker jacker venom." Beetee adds. "You were stung your first games, remember?"

Katniss blink once, which makes me assume is yes.

"Exactly... uh..." I take a deep breath, "the venom sort of helps the subject dissociate... then they use shocks and beating to torture them... then all that fear and anger is reassociate with something else, person, memory... place..." I try to not let my broken voice show.

"They can change his memories of Katniss?" Prim asks me.

"Yes, if she was once his friend, now he's been tortured to see her as the enemy." I say.

"But why?" Gale asks, I look at him, he looks like he doesn't believe any of what I said, or he's just really confused.

"They turned him into a weapon, Katniss." Haymitch says, "to kill you."

"That's too easy, Haymitch..." I scoff out a laugh, "nothing is easy at the Capitol."

I notice Gale rolling his eyes, but saying nothing. I can sense he doesn't trust me.

"But you can reverse it." Prim guesses.

"The fear is the most difficult thing to overcome. We're hardwired to remember fear best." Beetee explain and I nod, sadly.

"It's new terrain," Plutarch chimes in, "but we've put together a team. I'm optimistic."

"Yeah... optimism won't do it this time." I scoff again.

"If any of this is true." Gale mutters and my head snaps to his direction.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Finnick asks, annoyed.

"What everyone here thinks." Gale answers, just as annoyed.

"Which is, mr Hawthorne?" I ask, as cold as I've ever been.

"As if you can't figure it out." He replies, jaw clenching with annoyance.

"Enlighten me." I challenge, Gale looks around and sighs deeply.

Everyone is either confused or frustrated by Gale's comment. Finnick and Haymitch particularly mad.

"You're Capitol's Princess. That says it all." He finally speaks again.

"Care to elaborate?" Haymitch asks, I don't think I've ever seen him this mad.

"What guarantees she's telling the truth? Or that she's not just a spy?" Gale asks.

"You think Peeta's actually mad at Katniss?" Prim's soft voice asks.

"You saw what he said on TV." Is Gale's answer which makes me actually laugh. The others looks at me confused while Gale's still angry.

"What?" I ask, "wasn't that a joke? Oh sorry."

"Do you think we're joking here?" Gale snaps again.

"Oh fuck off, will you?" I almost shout, standing up, "let me fucking guess, you're one of the people who believed Katniss and Peeta were actually in love in their first games? Despite knowing her, nonetheless." I ask and when he says nothing I go on, "you think yourself so smart, so above the 'lies' the Capitol tells everyone, but you're not. You're really not. They fooled you." I laugh again, frustration finally getting out.

He stays silent, answering my question.

"I think you should go, mr Hawthorne." Plutarch says.

"No, no, let him stay, let him stay." I rush out, "do you want to know what was actually happening?" He says nothing, "Hell. Hell was happening."

"Sure.." he says unconvinced.

"Yeah... of course you believe all the bullshit about the Princess, don't you?" I say, a bit calmer, shaking my head disappointed. "Did you know I had a brother?" I notice with the corner of my eyes Finnick lowering his head, he's one of the few who knows. "Did you?" I stress.

"No." Gale firmly says.

"That's because he was killed, right in front of me, because I dared to say no. Then Snow threatened to kill everyone else I care about if I refused again, and by that time I befriended almost all the mentors and victors. He got leverage. But that's still nothing, you all lost people because of the Capitol, nothing special right?" I see him swallowing nervously, "I bet you think the Victors' lives are a piece of cake. No. Once you win, you're a prisoner. If the Capitol find you attractive enough, you're sold." I look at Finnick, he nods reassuringly, "you either get sold or you're family pays. And the downside of being Capitol's sweet princess is people finding you just as attractive. So I was sold too. That's how I met Cal. His father paid for me, and I couldn't say no. I couldn't say no to anything he wanted to do. Anything." My voice starts to break. "He lived this as a love story, so engraved in his delusion that he felt this as a personal betrayal. He was the one torturing me every time."

"Y/n..." Finnick calls me softly, but I shake my head.

"Do you want to know what Peeta has been through there?" I look at Gale with tears in my eyes, " because I know... I was there, at every session, each noise, each silence, each... scream... I heard it all, not even my own pain could suppress it."

"I.." Gale starts, but I'm not having it.

"You what? You're sorry? You're sorry that they made me live fake memories? That they made me live memories where... where... "I blow out some air, tears making it hard to breath, Finnick comes beside me to comfort me, but I can't be near him, not right now, right now everything I've kept to myselfis coming out "they made me live a memory where all the people I've ever cared about blamed me, for all of this. Everything is my fault, I know, but hearing them all screaming at me...no. Then they made me believe I was being... I was... shit!" I scream, taking a deep breath, "they made me believe he was raping me... when actually it was Cal all the time... and of course he didn't stop there, I mean he didn't need to wait for the sessions.. when he was in the mood I was in a cell, where he could always find me... the day you arrived he... was just in time to... mark me" I lift my shirt to show Cal's name on my lower stomach, engraved,I take another deep and shaky breath as I lower the shirt back down, "so you see... the Capitol hurts your mind, it doesn't stop at your body. Too. Fucking. Easy." Venom clear in my voice, I turn to look at Haymitch wiping away my tears, his eyes are wet too, my voice gets softer, "they.. uh... they didn't turn him into a weapon to kill her, at least that's not their main reason... they want to destabilise her. Now if you'll excuse me."

I walk out.

I walk faster to the hospital room they assigned me, but I can't find it, I haven't got through chance to get my head around the labyrinth this place is. My breath is getting heavy and I need to be alone, but I don't know where to go.

"Miss L/n!" Someone calls, I turn around seeing Boggs jogging to get to me.

"I'm sorry... I... I just needed a moment." I tell him breathlessly.

"It's okay, come." He leads me to my room and sits me on the bed. "Match my breathing, okay?"

I nod and try to follow his breathing. In, hold it, and out. He uses his hand to emphasise the breathing, and to give me something to look at and focus on. Once I can breath normally again I look at him.

"Thank you."

"You might not agree, but we're the one who should thank you." He says and I shake my head, "I'm not one to soften things up, I'm not just being nice to you. I meant what I said."

"I... it's just..."

"The Capitol fucks you up?" He asks.

"Yes..." I lower my eyes, "I'm sorry."

"I can promise you, there's no one here you have to apologise to." He assures me.

"I just didn't mean to snap like that and throw everything that happened out like that."

"It would've been worse if you didn't." He explains, "bottling all that inside, won't do you any good. So anytime you feel like snapping, do it. Call me if you need to."

"Thanks."

"I stopped Odair from coming himself, I had a feeling he wouldn't do you any good at the moment." He tells me.

"Yeah, no... you were right..."I mutter, softly, I want to say more but I just take a breath.

"Okay, here's what we can do. You can tell me what you're clearly holding back, and I can just listen without saying anything. Or we can just breath." He suggests.

I look at him once more, and seeing his genuine offer to help I nod my head and after a long deep breath I start to explain.

"They use electricity and shocks to make you docile... numb. Then they project all around you images of people, places, then a voice narrate what they want you to live. It's like they put you to sleep and makes you dream of whatever they want... only the pain is real and you can't escape it by waking up." I sigh, "they used Finnick most of the time... having him blaming me, hurting me. I... I can't even look at him..."

"But you do know that's not real." He states.

"Yeah, I've lived in the Capitol all my life... I know their ways, long before they caught me I was preparing myself." I say, going back at fidgeting, "but I guess I was underestimating it."

"I don't think you did." Boggs tells me, "You know that what they showed you is not real. You're already halfway out of this."

"I don't know..." I shake my head.

"Plutarch and Haymitch told us a lot about you." He sits in front of me, "said your brain was one of a kind. Your strategies, ideas and suggestions are always on point."

"I think they were exaggerating..."

"I've know those two for merely weeks and the one thing I gathered is they don't praise just anyone. They meant what they said about you." He firmly explains, I sigh, looking away from him, "I understand you still have the lingering guilt in your head, you try to rationalise it, but you can't shake it off. But that doesn't make it real, okay?" I nod, "first step: say it out loud."

"I don't think I'm ready for it yet." I sadly smile.

"It's okay." He nods, not showing any disappointment, "also.. what you said to Gale... I was waiting for someone to put him in his place."

I laugh and he does too.

"Glad I could've been of assistance." I chuckle.

"Want me to call Odair or Haymitch?" He asks.

"I... no, thank you, but I need to be alone... for a bit more.." I answer.

"It's alright." He stands and walk to the door, "if you need anything, don't hesitate."

"Thank you." I nod. He does too and exits the room.

I stand up and walk to the glass cupboard close to the bed. I look at my fade reflection and lift my shirt up, looking properly for the first time at Cal's work on me. They gave me stitches, it will probably leave a scar. I sigh, lowering my shirt once again and I go to lay on the bed again.

Flashes of what happened at the Capitol make their way into my brain, I close my eyes and cover my ears to prevent them from getting out. I start to have troubles breathing, I sit up straight, a hand on my chest to control my heartbeat. Tears forming in my eyes. I try to remind myself that I'm not there anymore, I'm not a prisoner anymore.

"It's not real, it's not real, it's not real." I keeo whispering to myself.

Dread fills my veins when I hear a knock on the door.

"Y/n?" Finnick careful voice reaches my ears, "are you okay? I won't come in, just... say something."

I try to take a very deep breath and walk to the door, not opening it, but I hold my hand to touch it.

"I'm okay." I weakly say.

"Would it be okay if I stayed out here?" He gently asks.

"You... you don't have to." I tell him, "I' sure you have things to do."

"None more important than you." He states, "I'll just sit here, if you need something, knock." He lets out a soft chuckle.

"Finnick..." I start.

"You know I'm stubborn. There's no use in arguing."

I hear him sitting down.

"I'm okay, Finnick." I try one more time.

"I know." He replies, "this is just a great spot to sit and rest actually."

He makes me chuckle a little and I decide to sit down against the door too, we would be back to back if it weren't for the door between us.

"It is quite comfortable, I have to agree." I say.

"See? Best spot in the whole district." He laughs.

We sit in silence, a comfortable silence.

Every now and then I'm sure I heard Haymitch's voice trying to get him to go to lay down on a proper bed and Finnick would always answer that he's more than comfortable like this.

He spent all night out of my room, checking on me every now and then.

Tomorrow I'll get checked again, any sort of injuries they haven't detected, or help me get my mind to work better again.

I need to fix my mind, I want to stop these thoughts, I want to... I need to.

[a-aexotic]

✫ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒐, i can see you.

✫ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | asshole!tristan, mention of family issues, just usual enemies to lovers things ✫ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | lmk if yall wanna join the taglist! also if anyone is interested in a nate archibald series lmk!!!! ✫ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (send an ask or comment to be added!) | @colbybrocks @weepingwitchofthewest @shady-writtingtalk @zulpix-blog @wheelerslover @dogmom600 @damnhati @remussbitch @yourmumstoyboy2-blog @1-800-starkindustrie

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Your father's expression hardened as he took in the scene, his disappointment evident in his eyes. "What in the world happened here?" he demanded, his voice a mix of frustration and disbelief.

You exchanged a nervous glance with Tristan, both of you realizing that you were about to face the inevidentable consequences of your actions. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you stepped forward, ready to take responsibility for what had happened.

"We... we had a little... accident," you admitted reluctantly, your voice tinged with guilt. "I'm sorry, Dad. And... Kristan."

"That vase was Kristan's favorite, you know that, right?" You'd never seen your father more livid as Kristan's eyes began to fill with tears. You couldn't believe it, crying? Over a vase?

"Is this because of that grudge against Tristan? Come on, Y/N." Your father's voice sounded disappointed as he interrupted you, his tone heavy with reproach. "I thought we were past all that."

Tristan's voice responded, annoyance evident in his voice. "It's a vase, come on. Can't we just get another one?"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Tristan's insensitive. "Of course you'd say that. It was your fault anyway."

"My fault? You pushed me into it!" Tristan turned to face you, anger evident in his face as you scoffed.

"After you said I had an alcohol problem!" You shouted back, your voice rising with frustration. "You know nothing about me, Tristan!"

"Oh really, so you're a stuck up bitch from Manhattan who thinks she's the best thing that's ever happened-"

"Enough!" Your father's voice boomed, silencing the both of you. He took a deep breath, clearly trying to rein in his own emotions. "I don't care whose fault it is. What matters is that you both acted irresponsibly, and now we're left to deal with the consequences."

"Consequences?" You blurted out. "I've had to deal with a lot of consequences, dad. I really can't deal with one more."

"Oh, yes. You can. And you will. I know your mom lets you run your own life back in Manhattan but this is my house, and you'll abide by my rules," your father retorted firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of frustration and shame wash over you. Your father was right – you had acted recklessly, and now you had to face the consequences of your actions. As much as you wanted to argue, you knew deep down that you had to own up to your mistakes.

"I know that your mom insisted on you having my old car but no, you will not." Your jaw dropped. No car? "You will share Tristan's until we figure this whole thing out. You guys are family now and you better start acting like it."

Tristan's expression was priceless - how looked pissed. But so was yours. "You're not my dad, you can't let him do this. Mom?"

Kristan's eyes met her son's and she shook her head. "He is right," Kristan interjected gently, her voice tinged with disappointment. "We need to address this behavior, and part of that means facing the consequences. Y/N, you'll be living with us for a little bit and that means you have to follow our rules."

"Especially if you wanna go back to New York." Your father added. You couldn't believe this bullshit.

"So what now?" You mumble, not really knowing how to respond.

Your dad shared a look with Kristan before looking back at you. "You and Tristan are going to share a car until you learn how to get along with each other. This is insanity, you two are almost adults and acting like five year olds."

Your jaw dropped. No car? No freedom? Sharing it with Tristan? You suddenly felt light headed. Sharing a car with Tristan was bad enough, but the idea of having to rely on him for transportation was almost unbearable. The thought of being trapped with him and being forced to tolerate his presence day in and day out made your blood boil.

"Dad, you can't be—"

"Enough, Y/N," your father interrupted firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "This decision is final. You and Tristan will share the car until you learn to get along with each other. End of discussion."

You glanced at Tristan, the smug smirk on his face only fueling your frustration. You knew that sharing a car with him would be a nightmare, but you also knew that you had no choice but to comply with your father's decision.

"Fine," you muttered through gritted teeth, your tone laced with resentment. "I'll share the damn car."

Clutching your sweater tightly around you, you stepped out of the house, with Tristan following close behind. The sun was barely out yet and you two had to get to school together, in the same car. Last night, before you went to bed, you decided that you were not going to give Tristan what he wanted from you; a reaction.

The chill of the morning air nipped at your skin as you made your way toward the car. You could feel Tristan's presence looming behind you, his footsteps echoing softly on the pavement.

As you reached the car, you readied yourself for the inevitable tension that would accompany the drive to school. Taking a deep breath, you climbed into the passenger seat and avoided making eye contact with Tristan.

Tristan got into the car with a loud sigh, immediately shutting the door and turning on the car before he turned on the heater. As he began to drive, he turned on the radio and began blasting Country music. You couldn't help but send him a glare, he didn't peg you as a country fan.

You could feel the car vibrating loudly as you drove - this was not a good way to start the morning. "Tristan." You turned your head to face him but it looked like he was too engulfed in the music to notice. "Tristan!"

He rolled his eyes and turned to you. "What?"

You shot him an annoyed glare before turning down the music, causing Tristan to let out a loud groan. "I don't wanna listen to this right now."

"Well, too bad."

"Tristan, we're sharing the car. Don't I get a say in this?" You shot back, Tristan shaking his head.

"No, it was my car first before you decided to push me into a table and knock down my mom's vase. So, no." Tristan began moving his hand to turn up the volume and you couldn't help but smack it away, causing Tristan to groan once again.

"Country music before 8 am should be a damn crime. It is too early for this shit." You reached for the radio dial yourself, switching it to a different station with a pop song playing softly.

"No, Y/N." He switched the radio back to country, causing you to scoff. You waited a few seconds before quickly turning it back to Pop, causing Tristan to glare at you.

"Focus on driving, pal." You teased as Tristan changed the station, again.

"Stop changing the damn station!" Tristan snapped, his patience wearing thin. "You don't get to call the shots here. If you have a problem with the music, you can deal with it because guess what - it's my car."

"Tristan-"

But before you could finish your sentence, Tristan reached over and turned off the radio entirely, his expression annoyed.

"Hey, why'd you do that?" you protested, irritation evident in your voice.

Tristan ignored you, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "I'm not listening to your shitty music. We'll drive in silence if we have to."

You stared at him, unable to believe his audacity. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

As you finally arrived at Chilton, you practically jumped out of the car, eager to escape Tristan. You slammed the door shut behind you, not bothering to look back as you stormed off towards the school entrance. Today was definitely not going to be an easy day.

Yesterday, all you had done the entire day was sit in the Dean's office as they tried and figured out your schedule, today was your first real day. You weren't nervous though, you knew half of the people at Chilton already worshipped the ground you walked on because they know you're from Manhattan.

You walked into your first period, trying to exude the same confidence you had back in New York. The students turned to look at you as you entered the room, whispers trailing in your wake. Your eyes immediately landed on a brunette girl, her hair pinned back in a half up half down style and immediately recognized her. Paris Geller, the girl you used to call your best friend. Her jaw slightly slacked as she registered you were back, her eyes widened slightly.

The teacher, Mr. Remmy, greeted you with a warm smile. "Ah, you must be Y/N Cromwell, the new transfer student. Welcome to Chilton."

You returned her smile politely, nodding in acknowledgment despite the nervousness settling in your chest. "Thank you, I'm looking forward to being here."

You immediately walked toward an empty seat and settled in, feeling Paris's gaze lingering on you. The tension in the air was palpable, and you couldn't help but wonder what Paris was thinking. The two of you used to be inseparable, but things had changed since you left for Manhattan.

"As for our upcoming group project," Mr. Remmy announced, drawing your attention back to the front of the class, "you'll need to partner up with one of your classmates, preferably someone nearby." Glancing around, you spotted a girl with black hair and bright blue eyes seated right next to you. She was seated right beside you, and you offered her a smile, which she returned.

"I'll give you a few minutes to discuss."

You guys both shared a glance before you turned your body to face her. "Hey." You began, a smile playing on your lips.

"Hi. So, uh... are we partners?"

"Only if you want to be. I mean, I don't really know anyone else." You let out a nervous chuckle as she smiled back at you warmly.

"Yeah, me too. This is my first week," she explained, her voice tinged with a hint of nervousness.

"Really? Mine too," you replied, feeling a sense of relief that you weren't the only new student. "I'm Y/N, by the way."

"I'm Rory," she introduced herself, her smile widening. "Nice to meet you, Y/N."

After a few minutes passed, Mr. Remmy called for everyone's attention once more. He continued his lecture and you felt slightly more at ease now, knowing that you weren't the only new student. Maybe, today wouldn't be so bad.

The door of the classroom opened abruptly as Tristan walked in, a late slip in his hand. Oh, you've gotta be kidding me.

"Ah, Mr. Dugray, nice of you to join us."

"My apologies, sir, my car wasn't starting this morning." He gave him the slip as he shared a glance with you, a smirk playing on his lips.

He was lying because you were in the car with him this morning, you couldn't believe him. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Tristan's blatant lie, feeling a surge of irritation rise within you.

You clenched your jaw as Tristan made his way to the back of the classroom, shooting you a smirk on his way. You couldn't believe he had the audacity to lie like that, especially after the morning you'd just endured with him.

By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of the class, you were more than ready to leave. Packing up your belongings hastily, you made your way out of the classroom, eager to put some distance between yourself and Tristan.

You felt someone tap on your shoulder and you looked up to meet Rory's eyes. You gave her a tight smile as she began to talk. "So uh, do you know where any of your classes are?"

You returned Rory's smile, relieved to have a familiar face to talk to. "Not really, I've been sitting in the Dean's office most of yesterday. Why?"

"Well, we have most of the same classes together. I could show you around," Rory offered as she picked up her backpack.

"Really? Thank you, Rory. You're a godsend." You grabbed your backpack as you two began walking to class together.

"So, our project... should we meet somewhere?" Rory began as you two walked.

"Yeah, sure. Where would you wanna go?"

"You can come by my house or yours and we can study there. Or we can go by Luke's, your choice." Rory explained as you continued down the hallway.

"Luke's?"

"Oh, I forgot you're not from here." Rory chuckled, realizing her mistake. "Luke's is this diner in Stars Hollow, it's by my house. They have great coffee and it's usually pretty quiet during the afternoons."

You nodded, intrigued. "That sounds perfect, actually. Let's go to Luke's then."

"Great choice," Rory replied with a smile. "We can grab a booth, get some coffee, and tackle this project together. It'll be fun."

"Who was that girl you were talking to earlier?" Tristan's voice cut through the silence, pulling you out of your thoughts as he drove in silence.

"That's Rory," you replied, turning to face Tristan. "She's in a few of my classes."

"She's pretty cute." Tristan's mouth curved up into a smirk as you rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, she's nice," you replied, trying to keep your tone neutral despite the irritation bubbling beneath the surface.

Tristan's smirk widened at your reaction, clearly enjoying getting a rise out of you. "So, are you two like, friends now or something?" he teased, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "That's cute."

"Yeah, we are. What's the issue, Tristan?"

"There isn't an issue, Y/N. It's just you don't seem like you'd be friends with a girl like that, you know, the genuine kind." Tristan remarked as he smirked, his eyes fixed on the road.

You fumed at his insinuation, feeling a surge of anger rise within you. "And what exactly do you mean by that?" you shot back, your voice tinged with irritation.

Tristan shrugged casually, but you could see the mischief dancing in his eyes. "Hey, I'm just saying what I observe. You're more of the 'big city, high society' type. Rory seems more... down-to-earth."

"Oh, right." You let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah because you seem like you're the expert when it comes to me."

Tristan's smirk widened at your retort, clearly enjoying the exchange. "Just calling it like I see it," he replied, his tone unapologetic.

You arrived at home and immediately felt a sense of relief wash over you as you stepped out of the car, glad to be away from Tristan's prying eyes and stupid comments. You made your way inside, quickly running up the stairs and going into your room, slamming the door.

As Tristan walked into the door, Kristan shot him a glare. He just shrugged but before he could walk away, she spoke. "Take it easy on her, Tristan."

"What do you mean?" Tristan feigned innocence as his mother shot him a pointed look.

"You know exactly what I mean," Kristan replied, her tone firm. "She's adjusting to a new school, a new home, and she doesn't need your antagonizing. I know you like to push her buttons, but she doesn't need extra stress from you."

Tristan rolled his eyes, but there was a flicker of guilt in his expression. "Mom, I'm just messing around. She can handle it."

Kristan sighed, shaking her head. "Tristan, she's going through a lot-"

"And what about me, mom?" His voice snapped as his expression turned to hurt. He glared back at her before rolling his eyes, beginning to walk up the stairs. "Right, like you're the expert on feelings."

series masterlist !

[r3starttt]

LADY OF MERCY

PAIRING: priest! abby x reader

CW: angst. religious guilt. internalized homophobia. suggestive(?

SUMMARY: you look for comfort in a sin Abby's there for you to forget.

AN: been in my drafts since september, wasn't meant to be published, was supposed to be a horny small scenario, turned out sad

DON'T BUY TLOU | PALESTINE MP PALESTINE LINKS | DAILY CLICK

TAGLIST | PERM: @twopeoplee @Kaimythically @greysontheidiot @levilvrr @sapphic-ovaries @girlkisser168 @bilsvlt @tlouloser @marsworlddd @1-800-fantasy @ellieswifee232 @prwttiestbunny @thesevi0lentdelights @lvlymicha @stickycherritart @rob1nbuckl3ys @abbys-muscles @dinakisser @lott6i @imagoddess1 | ABBY: @imdrowningindispair @rkivedpages @aouiaa @grey-jedi12 @bruhhtsukjf @wastdstime @softlikesilk-chiffon @0court

The cathedral is hushed, a stark contrast to your first entrance. The world outside seems to have stilled, no birds or crickets dare disturb the sacred silence. Through the slender windows, perched high upon the cathedral’s walls, a faint, bluish light trickles down, casting ethereal shadows. It no longer glows with the warm orange, as it was when you last sought solace here, when your heart was heavy with unspeakable pain, when you had come in desperate search of solace—of something, anything, to cling to as your spirit threatened to break.

In this profound quiet, the only sound is the echo of Abby's sermons, her words filled with a fervent passion that stirs the souls of the faithful. Her voice is a beacon of light in this holy place, its very cadence soothing the hearts of those who gather in worship.

The congregation hangs on her every word, finding peace in the presence of this aura, a palpable warmth that wraps around with each graceful move, her every step a ritual, her voice harsh yet soothing, a balm for troubled souls.

She offers sanctuary—not just from the world, but from the weight of one’s own vows, from the burden of unspoken confessions. In her presence, the sacred space heightens every emotion, intensifies every thought, until the very air seems charged with divine energy. And you, like so many before you, had approached her in the confessional booth, trembling with the weight of your sins, searching not only for spiritual guidance but for a release from the turmoil within.

Abby had made a promise then—a vow to help you navigate the storm inside your heart. In her eyes, you saw a reflection of your own struggles, and in that moment, you knew she understood your pain.

With each stolen glance and fleeting touch, her teachings became more than spiritual lessons; they became the thread that bound your soul to hers. Days turned into weeks, and your secret meetings became more frequent, your connection deepening with every whispered word.

It was not sin that drove you to her, but a desperate need to purge the temptations that plagued your mind. She assured you that within every confession, there was salvation, within every sin, a path to redemption—and she would be there to guide you through each one, no matter the cost.

You sit in your designated pew, the one you had longed to touch when you first entered this sacred space months ago. Everyone knows that if you are not to be found, you must be here, in this place that has come to feel like your own.

You wait patiently, your eyes finding hers, watching her every move, though this time, no tears mar your face. As the voices of the congregation rise in unison, you join in, your voice mingling with theirs, but your heart is focused solely on her. They offer thanks to God, to the church, to whatever they hold dear—but you, you thank her alone.

Abby had once assured you that, in time, you would feel God’s presence, but try as you might, you could not. This was your final confession to her, the one you came here today to address.

But today’s prayers feel distant, blurred. Even her words, usually so grounding, only serve to deepen your unrest.

As the congregation disperses, people greet you warmly, recognizing the change in you. To them, you have become a living testament to Abby’s grace—a girl once lost in sin, unworthy of a second glance, now pure and forgiven, reborn in the light and drawn back from the brink by the guiding hand of Abigail Anderson herself.

Only when the cathedral is shrouded in silence, its sacred halls emptied of all but the faint whisper of past prayers, does Abby beckon you closer with a subtle gesture—an invitation to wander within the sanctified walls. Your footsteps, firm against the cold stone floor, echo in the vastness, a sound that belongs only to you and her in this solemn space.

"You seem troubled," Abby’s voice, soft yet tinged with the weight of concern, breaks the silence. It is less a question and more a gentle prod, urging you to unveil the turmoil within your soul.

"It’s you," you confess, the words heavy on your tongue. "I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t picture God." But Abby does not look at you, not yet. Her fingers move delicately over the pages of her Bible, each touch reverent and deliberate, drawing your eyes to follow her every motion.

"Did you pray?" Her gaze lifts abruptly, and your eyes instinctively meet hers, the connection sharp and undeniable. You shake your head, a hesitant motion that speaks of your internal struggle. "I couldn’t, but I tried," you admit, your voice laced with quiet desperation. She hums in acknowledgment, a sound both understanding and contemplative.

"May I know what—or who—has you so troubled?" she inquires, her tone inviting you to unburden your heart. It is then that you notice her braid, meticulously crafted as it was the first time you saw it. There is something about her hair that brings you solace, a symbol of her unwavering presence, each strand perfectly aligned, a reflection of the order she brings to the chaos within you.

Your feet move almost on their own, following Abby as she descends from the altar, her steps deliberate and purposeful, leading you to the nearest pew. With a graceful motion, she gestures to the very center of the seat, her hand inviting you to rest there. The Bible, now nestled in her lap, carries the weight of ancient wisdom, and her presence beside you feels like a fortress against the turmoil within.

“It’s still you,” you confess, the words escaping before you can stop them, heavy with unspoken fears.

Gently, Abby releases her grasp on the sacred book, placing it beside you with reverence. “Before we continue our meeting tonight,” she begins, her voice a soft murmur that seems to resonate with the very walls of the cathedral, “may I help you pray?”

Her question lingers in the air, a holy offering. You pause, taking in the serenity that surrounds you, the dim light casting long shadows that dance with a life of their own. With a slight nod, you give your consent, though your heart still flutters with uncertainty.

“Did you meditate?” she asks, her words catching you off guard as you prepare yourself for prayer. Her question is unexpected, but Abby reads the confusion in your eyes before you can voice it.

“Think of this as a guided meditation,” she continues, her tone gentle but firm, like a shepherd guiding a lost lamb. “You do not need to see God. The more you strain to find Him, the further you will feel from His embrace.”

“I will,” you murmur, the words a fragile promise as you settle into the position you’ve practiced day and night, seeking to still your mind and open your heart to whatever presence may hear your plea—be it God, if He truly exists.

“Sit upright,” she instructs, her voice carrying the calm authority that has always been your anchor. “Keep your back straight—just like that.” Her gaze meets yours, a blend of gentleness and unwavering resolve that soothes your trembling spirit. “Rest your hands in your lap or on the pew before you. Clasp them together if it brings you comfort, or let them rest open on your thighs.” As she speaks, her hands move with an elegant grace, demonstrating each position as if guiding you through a sacred ritual. You mimic her motions, albeit with a touch of hesitation, each movement drawing you deeper into the solemnity of the moment.

“It’s entirely your choice,” she reassures you, her tone as calming as a whisper of wind through the leaves, “but I suggest closing your eyes and simply breathing.” The suggestion, though simple, carries a weight that only her presence could lend it. Her fingers brush your forehead, a touch as light as a prayer, and you feel a warmth spread through you as your eyes close, yielding to her gentle guidance.

“To pray,” she begins, her voice a soft invocation, “start by addressing God with the reverence He deserves. Whether you say ‘Dear God,’ ‘Lord,’ or another name that resonates with you, is entirely personal.” Though your eyes are closed, you can still feel her presence, a warm light in the darkness of your doubt, and it brings a faint smile to your lips, a gesture she does not miss.

“Speak aloud only when in the presence of the congregation,” she advises, her words flowing like a sacred hymn. “It fosters unity and shared worship.” You fidget with the fabric of your clothing, your fingers tracing a quiet rhythm on your knees. “But for now,” she adds, sensing your inner turmoil, “a whisper will suffice.”

“Begin by offering thanks for the blessings in your life,” she suggests, her tone gentle but firm. The suggestion makes you bristle slightly; you have come here seeking solace from an absence of gratitude, not to recount it. But Abby, with her deep insight, seems to anticipate your resistance. “Perhaps, in your case, you could express gratitude for the opportunity of renewal, for the chance at a new beginning.”

“If there are wrongs you wish to confess, or forgiveness you seek, do so sincerely,” she continues, her voice soft and encouraging. Though you feel a reluctance to confess—doubting the power of such an act—her presence fills you with a sense of hope, a bridge between your skepticism and the glimmer of faith you yearn to grasp. “Reflect on the areas of your life where you seek divine guidance,” she advises.

Silently, your internal prayer begins to form, an unspoken plea for peace amidst the chaos of doubt. It feels as though Abby’s presence alone is guiding you, her words not merely instructions, but a lifeline to something greater.

“Consider your personal concerns, requests for guidance, or prayers for others,” she says, her tone both firm and compassionate. “Be specific and honest in your petition.” You ponder the notion of purity in prayer, questioning whether your thoughts are pure enough to be heard by the divine.

“Some people prefer to make the sign of the cross at this point. Are you familiar with it?” she inquires gently. You shake your head, a wave of fogginess sweeping over your mind. The faint scent of pine from her presence mingles with the soft cadence of her voice, enveloping you in a cocoon of tranquility. “Look at me,” Abby instructs, her gaze a beacon of comfort amidst the sacred space.

Surrounded by the symbols of faith, Abby leans closer. Her fingers hover over your forehead, and you instinctively open your eyes to find her nearer than you expected. “This gesture symbolizes God the Father and is the first step of the sign,” she explains as her hand traces a delicate path down the center of your body, her fingers barely grazing your lips and chin before resting above your heart. “This represents God the Son, signifying the connection between the divine and humanity.”

Her touch, feather-light, continues to your left shoulder, resting there with gentle insistence. “This symbolizes the Holy Spirit, extending divine guidance from within.”

“And now, your right shoulder,” she instructs, her movements precise and fluid as she completes the sign of the cross. Her smile, a blend of tenderness and pride, illuminates her face, drawing your attention to the constellation of freckles on her cheeks. “This completes the cross, symbolizing the fullness of the Trinity and the direction of divine grace.”

With a soft, graceful motion, she guides your hand back to your side. “Conclude your prayer with an affirmation of faith, a reaffirmation of trust in the divine will. Many say ‘Amen,’ or ‘May it be Your will.’” Her demeanor remains as poised and comforting as ever, embodying both grace and strength as she leads you through spiritual communion once again.

The stained glass windows of the cathedral bathe the stillness in hues of quiet reverence, casting shadows that dance across the cold stone floor. The air feels heavy, thick with unspoken words and sacred promises, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric as Abby shifts beside you. The wood beneath her creaks, a sound that reverberates through the silence, grounding you in this present moment, though your mind spirals elsewhere—toward a fear no prayer could ever soothe.

Your lips falter, struggling to utter the word 'Amen,' as your eyes open, desperate for an anchor to reality. The question you’ve carried for too long gnaws at your soul, compelling you to turn, your neck aching as your gaze finds her. "Abby?" you whisper, the word barely more than a breath, uncertain whether you should dare voice the thought that rises like a forbidden prayer.

Her eyes meet yours, calm but curious. “Yes?”

You hesitate, but the weight of your heart presses the words out. “If you weren’t a priest…” You swallow hard, feeling the gravity of the inquiry take hold. “Would you have fallen in love with me?”

For a moment, the world stills, the cathedral’s ancient silence deepening as if the very stones are waiting for her reply. Abby’s face tightens, a fleeting shadow flickering across her expression. Her fingers twitch in her lap, the only sign of the turmoil beneath the surface. She inhales slowly, her voice calm but fragile when she finally speaks. "God suffices me," she answers, each word tinged with a rawness that betrays her composed exterior.

Her eyes, however, tell a different story—a flicker of vulnerability, a glimpse into a world of feelings she cannot confess. The answer lands heavily on your chest, and though you anticipated it, the ache it leaves behind is undeniable. You exhale shakily, your fingers fidgeting in your lap as your thoughts unravel, pulling you deeper into the void of unspoken desires.

“Have you never longed to love, or be loved?” The question slips out before you can stop it, laced with the pain and confusion that has haunted you since the day you met her.

Abby’s posture stiffens, her gaze turning inward as if searching for a truth she cannot find. Her fingers trace the edges of her Bible, restless and seeking solace in its familiar weight. But no sermon can ease the tension between you. The silence that follows is thick, filled with everything that remains unsaid.

You rest your head in her lap, an act of surrender and silent plea, your heart laid bare before her. Abby’s hand, tentative but deliberate, finds its way to your hair, her fingers threading through it in a gesture that feels as intimate as it is forbidden. "We cannot," she whispers, her voice trembling, laced with the weight of emotions she dares not speak aloud. "This is... beyond us."

Yet even as she speaks, her touch lingers—her thumb brushing tenderly against your cheek. Her gaze meets yours, and in that fleeting exchange, there is a silent acknowledgment, a love neither of you can voice but both feel deeply. Kneeling before her, you feel both comforted and cursed by her nearness, the warmth of her hand a bittersweet reminder of everything you can never have.

Her hand cradles your face, her thumb tracing soft circles over your skin, her eyes heavy with the burden of her vows. There is a quiet sorrow in every movement—a resignation that cuts deeper than any spoken words. "We are bound to something greater," she whispers, her voice wavering, as though she is trying to convince herself as much as you.

But the tremor in her voice, the way her fingers graze the curve of your lips, tells you more than words ever could. The silence between you feels sacred, as though the cathedral itself is listening, waiting for your next confession.

The plea falls from your lips, fragile and desperate. “Absolve me of my sins,” you whisper, seeking not forgiveness, but her—only her.

Abby exhales slowly, her touch still tender but now laden with sorrow. “You seek absolution,” she murmurs, her voice thick with compassion and an unspoken ache. You lift your head, your eyes searching hers, though you already know the answer she cannot give. Her gaze softens, weighed down by her sacred vows and the love she feels but can never express.

Her fingers trace the lines of your lips, intimate and agonizing. "I cannot," she whispers, the strain in her voice unmistakable. “I cannot absolve what was never meant to be sin.”

Yet her touch lingers, heavy with a love that transcends words—untouchable, private, and entirely yours. “Only seek the strength to bear it.”

[lunamadhatter99]

All for The Cameras

Chapter 3

Finnick Odair x Fem!reader

It's time. That's all I'm gonna say.

If you like it and want to be added to the tag list, comment here.

Have a good day, loves! ❤️

Chapter summary: the plan is in motion.

Chapter Warnings: prostitution, drug use (on the bad guy, but still),

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It's been a month since the talk with Plutarch... and I still can't believe it.

The rebellion is actually happening, district 13 still exists!

These are the thoughts that keep my mind sane. Plutarch said we need to be careful, he might have a plan... but we need people we can trust.

Of course.

I try to think of some people that would gladly help and that can be also trusted while I walk into the building Cal lives in. Unfortunately the rebellion hasn't properly started and I still have "duty" to do.

I take a deep breath as I enter the elevator and close my eyes for a moment, enough time for another person to enter with me. And I already know who this is.

"Finnick," I nod my head greeting him and open my eyes as the doors close.

"Sweetheart," he sends me one of his charming smile and nods his head too.

The ride to the last floor is pretty long and slow, it gives time for a small, awkward silence to fall for a while before Finnick speaks up.

"I heard... you know." He says, hands behind his back casually.

"Everybody knows apparently..." I sigh.

"Yeah... people can't stop talking about it. The talk of the town."

"If he wanted it to be a surprise, well, oops" I roll my eyes.

"He's been..." he pauses for a moment, shakes his head and looks up with an angry smile.

"What?" I press, "more possessive? More obsessed?"

"Yeah, since you left for the Victory tour he..." he starts, but I cut him off immediately.

"No, he's been like this since that day," I say, I feel him looking at me, but I don't have the heart of looking back.

"Do.... do you think he heard it?" He hesitantly asks, lowering his voice too, "there's no way he could've heard..."

"He must've. That's the only explanation." I tell him, lowering my own voice. "You chose the worse time of all."

"Well, I'm sorry... okay? I... wasn't thinking," he apologies.

"Clearly." I take another deep breath before speaking again, "you know sometimes I try to come out with as many way of killing him I can. Each of them ends up with me getting caught, because unfortunately he is who he is... but it helps."

"How many did you get last time?" He asks, a hint of an amused smile on his face.

"I think... uh... 6," I say, "oh no, 7... almost forgot about the spoon one."

He actually laughs and it helps me too, knowing that in the end we're on the same boat.

"I think... 13 would've been better." He says, he kind of emphasises the number. That makes my head turn to him, him already looking at me with a serious expression.

Could it be..?

So I dare ask.

"Did you talk to Plutarch?"

I see him opening his mouth to answer, but before anything could come out of it, the elevator's doors open and we are greeted by Cal himself ready with two glasses of wine.

"Welcome back, my lovelies." He cheers and he hands us the drinks, "finally all together. C'mon, c'mon."

As we enter his huge apartment I try to look at Finnick to get that answer, he does look at me, but I can't understand.

"Alright, let's sit for a bit, uh?" Cal lead us to his living room, motioning to a huge wooden table... with only two seats...

Cal take a seat and looks at us, expecting.

"Uhm... should I go get another seat or..?" Finnick tries to take it lightly, but one thing is worse than having to spend the night with Cal Kingslay... not knowing what Cal Kingslay has in store.

"Oh no need, c'mon Finnick sit." Cal tells him and Finnick obeys, looking at me confused.

"And.. what about me?" I ask, also trying to play it cool.

"Oh before you sit," Cal stands up to come up to me, it takes everything in me not to take a step back... or even run, "I got a little gift for you. It's in the bedroom."

"Aw.. that's sweet, but you really shouldn't have." I say, hoping he doesn't feel the tremble in my voice.

"We have to make up for lost time, sweetheart. Now go, then come back here." He instructs.

"Sure..." I fake smile at him, steal a quick glance at a tense Finnick and head to the bedroom.

The bedroom, just as huge, hosts a big round bed, a small couch in front of it and nothing much else. I notice a package on the bed, I go to open and find... of course...

I scoff as I look at the deep red lingerie set he bought me. I put it on, constantly rolling my eyes, the only act of defiance I can afford, I wear the matching rope and head back to the living room.

"Oh look at her!" Cal exclaims as I near, "I knew that was your color. Isn't she a beauty, Finnick?"

"Yes." Is all Finnick says, his eyes fixed on me with a loving, yet sad, expression in them.

Cal suddenly grabs my hand and pull me to him, making me sit in his lap.

"Alright, now let's chat a little." He says as his hands caress my thighs and sides, whatever he could touch, "I really want to know what happened on this tour."

"Well... nothing much, really. Usual tour... with two victors, but the usual," I laugh it off, putting my hands on Cal's in a poor attempt of keeping them steadier.

I look at Finnick, who's even more tense than before, eyes locked on Cal's hands on me.

"So nothing happened?" Cal presses, grip getting tighter, " nothing? Not even with Peeta Mellark?"

I actually laugh at that.

"With Peeta?" I ask, "why?"

"At the party, at the President's residence, the way he touched you..." he holds me tighter.

"He just wanted to dance, Cal... he's so in love with Katniss, he doesn't look at anyone else." I try to chuckle to make him see how absurd his assumptions are.

"Then why not ask any other woman there?" He keeps holding me.

I look at Finnick, who's ready to jump into action, but at the same time knows he can't do anything.

"Because he's shy." I say, "he might seem like an outgoing guy, but he's really not. He asked me probably because I'm his friend. " I try to stress the word 'friend' to make him understand.

"Yeah, I got to talk to him for a few minutes when they were in 4, he didn't talk much, only awkwardly smiled and let out just a few words." Finnick lies, and thanks to that Cal lets go a little, going back at caressing my thighs. I look at Finnick grateful and he slightly nods.

"You have a talent in making people feel at ease with you, don't you?" Cal compliments and rest his chin on my shoulder, "I really missed you. Did you miss me too?"

"Oh, but of course," I fake another smile as he starts to kiss my neck.

His kisses get more heated as he goes, I look everywhere except Finnick, I can't stand it, not after last time.

"Mmh, fuck," he breaths out, "you smell so good, my sweetness, let's go to the bedroom, shall we, lovelies?"

Cal doesn't give me any time to stand up, he picks me up and, bridal style, he takes me to the bedroom, followed by Finnick.

Cal gently puts me on the bed, goes and sits down on the small couch.

"Take your clothes of, Finnick, leave your underwear on," he instructs, getting comfortable on the couch.

Finnick does as he was told, standing only in his underwear. He's surely been working out while I was gone...

"I want you on your knees in front of her," Cal orders him, "and you, my precious princess, spread those legs for him, okay?"

Finnick comes kneel in front of me, I spread my legs to let him in, avoiding his eyes, that, I know are on me.

"Oh that's good." Cal praises, "now, touch her."

I softly gasp at feeling Finnick's hand on my thigh.

"Not too much, Finnick, you know the rules. No kissing unless I say so."

Finnick only nods and keeps on caressing my tigh bringing it a little closer so his face lightly touches it.

"Look at him, sweetheart, look at him,"

This is how these meetings usually go: Cal tells us how he wants to see us, what he wants us to do, sometimes he just likes to watch and sometimes he like to "play" too.

I don't know if he's so delusional to think we too enjoy this or he just loves control so much that he doesn't care at all.

That's how the "date" went, all night.

Cal enjoying his power over us, he particularly enjoyed teasing Finnick.

"How does it feel like? Knowing she'll never be yours?" He would ask. "You wouldn't be able to touch her if it wasn't for me," "You'll never see her unless I say so." And so on...

"I'll see you soon, my loves," Cal says, leading us back to the elevator, his hand in mine.

"It's never going to be too soon," Finnick's charming smile seems to convince him.

"Never," I agree as we're standing in front of the elevator.

Cal spins me around and kisses me. I'm so stunned, I don't even reciprocate until he squeezes my waist.

"I could never get enough of that," Cal humms, letting me go.

"Feeling's mutual," I say turning around, grateful for the doors to open in that moment.

"Bye bye" he waves and we do the same, keeping up our fake smiles until the doors finally close.

"Oh fuck..." I let out a sigh of relief and unconsciously lean against Finnick's taller frame, who gently wraps an arm around me.

"Feeling's mutual," Finnick says, sighing too.

"Okay... uh... listen," I start, pulling away from his embrace, "we do need to find a way to talk. This ride might be long, but it's not enough..."

"I know... I might have an idea, but you'll have to trust me," he tells me confidently.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Trust me, alright?"

I sigh, but nod.

"Main things... uh... did you talk to Plutarch then?"

"That I did, asked for my company, I thought he was one of the usual stuff, but thankfully it wasn't." He tells me, "you?"

"Same thing, do you know anyone else... knowing?" I ask.

"There are lots of victors who might be involved, but I can't say for sure..." he speaks quietly, "maybe Johanna..."

"Definitely believable," I comment, "you know, I think Haymitch too.. both him and Plutarch said the same exact thing to me and... it just makes sense."

"What about the lovebirds?" He says making quotations with his fingers as he says 'lovebirds'.

"I don't think so..." I shake my head, "Katniss is too focused on wanting to protect her family, to think of a rebellion."

"Alright... it's still a start, don't you think?" He smiles at me.

"Yeah..." I say bitterly.

"What's that tone?" He's concern now.

"Nothing... I just don't want to keep my hopes up, you know?" I look down at my hands, avoiding his eyes.

"Hey... C'mon, look at me, Y/n." He gently takes my hand and pulls me to him.

I reluctantly, but not so much, look up at him, at his reassuring eyes. Sometimes all I want to do is get lost in them and never find my way back, but it's a luxury I can't afford, not right now.

I shake my head turning away from him.

"Listen... I want to hope we might have a shot, okay? I really do... it's just hard after everything," I say, bouncing my leg.

"I know," he sighs, "but, I mean, we've been hoping this whole time... might as well keep it up."

"I guess..." I smile at him, losing myself again in his eyes, I see him leaning closer, but I stop him, I have to. "Don't."

"I'm sorry..." he awkwardly smiles, "don't push me away like this." He whispers, cautiously taking my hand again, "Please."

"We can't... uh... I don't feel the same way... and... you should..." I stutter out, focusing on our hands instead of his face.

"You know you can't like to me, I know you all too well, love," he chuckles and I shake my head.

"We can't," I say and luckily the doors open and I rush out leaving Finnick behind.

I walk as fast as I can to the car, hoping to get home faster so I can freely cry and scream.

Once I get home I jump on my bed, burying my face in the pillows and just let everything out.

Of all people... why him? Love is so unfair...

No... no, not love... this is not love... I'm not in love with him and he is not in love with me.

That was just a trauma response... yes... yes. Nothing more.

He can't actually love me. If he actually did he could get killed because of it... but if it's not actual love, he's safe... yeah, yeah, he's safe. Nothing to worry about...

This is all I think about as I cry myself to sleep.

----------

"You said what?" I almost yell at Plutarch, almost because I don't want to risk being heard.

"He has to trust me. I can't just say 'leave her alone people will forget about her', can I?" Plutarch sighs, pouring whiskey into my glass, which I gladly take.

"I guess not," I let out a sigh, tapping nervously my glass, "what if you're right, though? What if they actually arrive to hate her so much to kill her themselves?"

"Do you think that would happen?" He asks, knowing already my answer.

"No..." I sit back down, "no, sorry, I'm just... scared shitless, alright?"

He nods understanding.

"I need to ask you one thing, miss L/n, and I need you to be honest," He says and I nod for him to ask away, "do you trust me?"

I look at him properly, trying to see if in his eyes there's even a tiny bit of malice.

"I do." I say.

"Good. There will be some things you shouldn't know, not because you might get caught, but because some things will require a genuine reaction from you," he explains with a serious tone.

"I understand." I nod, "Yeah, no problem. I just hope I would be able to help despite Cal" I say his name with a disgusted noise.

"We'll deal with that too," he reassures me with a small smile.

"Thanks," I say drinking some whiskey, "this thing will never happen too soon."

"I know,"

"May I ask... why do you trust me?" I ask, "I mean, to everyone's eyes I'm Snow's protégé... why do you trust me?"

"Haymitch Abernathy doesn't just trust anyone." Is his simple answer, "I'm sure you know that."

I nod, satisfied with the answer.

"They will send more peacekeepers to 12 tomorrow." He tells me.

"Yeah? I'm sure they're eager to start with the punishments" I comment bitterly.

"Yep."

"Katniss won't just stand there and watch." I warn him.

"I know," he says confidently.

I scan his face, he's not worried about it, he's certain and confident as if he planned it.

"You hope she does something," I accuse.

"Haymitch was right about you," he lightly chuckles, "you are smart."

"Don't change the subject, Heavensbee. This is an opportunity, isn't it?" I ask again, he nods, "if Katniss is the fighter I know she is... you'll get your opportunity."

"We'll get our opportunity," he corrects me raising his glass and I do the same.

"I hope you're right about this rebellion, Heavensbee. I really hope." I say and take a sip of whiskey.

And Katniss did something, indeed. It helped that her best friend was the one getting punished. The fact that both Haymitch and Peeta intervened was even better apparently, according to Plutarch. This is one of the parts of the plan I can't know apparently, but he seemed confident so I trust him...

Hope.

We're all depending on that.

-----------

"We'll finally be able to talk tonight," Finnick whispers to me as we stand in the elevator.

"How?" I ask, confused about what he has in mind.

He smiles and shows me what's inside a little bag he brought. A bottle of wine.

"You're gonna drug him?" I ask shocked.

"A tiny bit," he chuckles, "he'll also need to eat this," he shows me a small box of chocolates, "the drug will activate with both, the wine alone is ineffective."

"Yeah... because not drinking would feel suspicious, but we never eats so if we say no to the chocolate... no problem at all," I reason, "genius."

"I have my moments," he smiles proudly and I return the smile.

"I thought..." he clears his voice, "I thought we could also talk about... us?"

"Finnick..." I warn.

"We would have time..." he insists.

"There's no us, okay? Stop it." I sternly say.

"Keeo telling yourself that," he whispers.

From there the ride is silent until we arrive at Cal's apartment.

"Good evening, loves!" He greets us as usual, "how are my favourite people?"

"A little tired, you know, Snow wanted me to check some old records" I lie, not completely I really am tired, but of him.

"I'm actually fresh as a flower," Finnick starts, "I actually would like to celebrate,"

"Oh really?" Cal asks and grabs my hand to pull me to him.

"Yeah, I found this old bottle of fine wine in my home and I thought 'what better time to drink it if not with Cal Kingslay?', you know?" He takes the bottle out and soon after the box.

"And that?" Cal's intrigued.

"Oh this is a special gift for you, to thank you for your generosity," Finnick's ability to lie and charm him leave me stunned everytime.

"Aw that's sweet of you," Cal takes both the bottle and the box, "we'll share the box, loves."

"Oh, Cal, I'm sorry, but I'll have to gently decline, I ate so much today. Maybe later, okay?" I use the sweetest voice I can as he puts the objects on the table. I try to ignore how Finnick's jaw tense when I do this.

"Whatever you say, princess, as long as you say my name like that..." he turns to me wrapping both arms around my waist to pull me completely against his body.

"Alright, big guy," I try to nonchalantly pull away from him, "let's toast, shall we?"

"Of course!" Cal exclaims, taking the bottle and sending a grateful nod at Finnick. He goes to pour three glasses, "to what should we toast?"

"How about the Quartel Quell?" Finnick asks as he takes the glass from Cal's hand.

"Love that!" Cal cheers handing me a glass too, "here, princess."

"Thank you, Cal," I say, using his name again for good measure and he grins at that.

"To the third Quarter Quell!" Cal raises his glass and we quickly follow.

One each of us took a sip of wine, Finnick goes to open the box, offering it to Cal.

"Here."

"Oh so kind," Cal smirks, "you don't mind if I take two, do you?"

"Oh, but of course not, take as many as you want," Finnick gives him his usual charming smile as Cal takes two chocolates.

"You know I love sweets," Cal says putting both candy in his mouth, "mmh! So good!"

"Old recipe," Finnick explains.

I watch the scene, tense, I hope Finnick's plan works...

Not even moment later, Cal goes to sit holding his head.

"Hey, something wrong?" I fake concern.

"No... no I'm good," Cal tries to stand up again, but apparently his legs can't hold him up.

"Alright, let's get you to bed. Maybe you're just a little more tired than you think," I say, he let me help him to bed.

"Fuck..." he groans, once he's laying down, "I was really in the mood,"

"Don't worry, rest a bit, and if you feel like it later... we're here," I reassure him, but actually hoping he won't.

"Thank you, my love," he says drifting off to sleep.

I cautiously walks back out of the room and back to Finnick.

He looks at me with expectation written all over his face.

"He's asleep," I whisper, with the biggest smile.

"Yes!" He whisper-shouts.

"God... I wish we could do it every single time," I sigh relieved.

"Unfortunately he would get suspicious, but it's a nice dream," Finnick agrees.

"How much time do you think we have?" I ask sitting with him at the table.

"About... 2 hour and a half... maybe more since he took two chocolates," he explains.

"That's great... this might mean we wouldn't even have to do anything at all..." I chuckle and Finnick does too.

"Alright..." he lowers his voice, "I'm pretty sure, a very good part of the Victors are part of this thing"

"Well, Haymitch for sure... but I don't think he will let Katniss and Peeta know anything," I tell him.

"Why not?" He asks frowning.

"Katniss is basically supervised everywhere she goes... it would be too risky..." I explain simply, "do you know what happened today?"

"What?"

"New Peacemakers arrived in 12," I start, "Plutarch suggested more severe punishments,"

"What? Why?" Finnick almost exclaims, there's a deeper frown on his face now.

"It's a way to let himself in, Snow will never trust him otherwise." I sigh, "it sucks, I know. If Snow grows suspicious, we're fucked."

"I know," he sounds defeated.

"But the thing is," I start again, "this, according to Plutarch, created a perfect opportunity. He was so confident today when I saw him leaving a meeting with Snow, I think the plan is in motion."

" I can't fucking believe," he genuinely smiles, "it's really happening... and I mean, can you believe 13 is still alive?"

"I know!" I exclaim in a whisper, I wish I could just shout it sometimes, "it's crazy."

"You know... for the first time I saw some hope in Mags and not just defeat."

I smile at that, I know how important Mags is for him. When I was assigned to assisting district 4's mentors, Mags was always so kind to us... treating us like family.

"That's really nice to hear," I softly say, gently putting a hand on top of his.

He waits a moment before covering my hand with his other one, stroking it gently. I really should pull away, but this gentle, genuine touch is something I haven't felt in a long time. I look up, Finnick's already looking my way with a soft smile.

"You know, I can't wait." He says.

"For..." I clear my voice, "for what?"

"Finally kiss you." He simply states.

"Finnick... for the millionth time..."

"You don't feel the same... yeah, yeah, yeah." He interrupts me, standing up and taking me with him, "you can lie to yourself, but not to me. What I feel for you is-"

"Is not real." It's my turn to interrupt him.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" He challenges.

"Oh god..." I let out a frustrated sigh, "it's just trauma response, okay? You don't love me, Finn. And I don't love you."

"Okay... so... why didn't you pull away yet and you're letting me, basically, cuddle you?" He challenges again, this actually makes me notice how close we are and how his hands are gently caressing and massaging my body.

I instantly pull away, earning a small laugh from him.

"You really need to stop it," I say, to convince myself, rather than him.

"But you're just so beautiful," he smirks, but it not like Cal's smirk... it's playful, he's not making me uncomfortable, he's just teasing, I know that if he actually made me uncomfortable he would stop right away.

"Alright, stop it." I can't help but let out a chuckle.

"You don't believe yourself either... C'mon." He walks closer to me, "dance with me."

"There's not music and I don't think putting something on will help our case with the sleeping beauty," I remind him.

"Just dance with me, c'mon, love," he holds his hand out for me to take and I do. I let him pull me to him and slowly moving to an imaginary rhythm.

He holds me to me him with so much care I could just melt here and now. I have to admit, it does feel nice.

I just keep reminding myself that it's not love, but two people comforting each other... right?

Right?

As I let Finnick lead, my mind can't help but go to next week event... the announcement of the third Quarter Quell... and my engagement.

I try to shake away the thought and focus on Finnick's body close to mine, how his taller frame is not imposing or constricting, but protective.

I try to focus on the fact that Plutarch's plan is probably going to work... hope.

All I focus about: hope and Finnick.

I'm afraid the two aren't so different for me.

------------

The crowd is cheering like never before.

It's the announcement of the third Quarter Quell, after all.

I watch Snow taking his place in front of all Capitol's citizens, I sit with the rest of 'Capitol's elite' in the back, waiting for the big theme of this year's games.

I can't help but slightly bounce my leg, knowing what's coming after that.

"Are you okay, my sweetness?" Cal's voice startles me, I almost forgot he was next to me.

"Yeah," I force out a smile, "just excited to discover the theme of this year,"

"Plutarch didn't tell you?" He asks taken aback, "I thought he wanted you as an assistant, maybe he didn't have the chance yet... I hope I didn't ruin any surprise,"

"Oh, don't worry, Cal," I say, "I'll try to act surprised."

He smiles at me and I now try to contain my excitement, real excitement. Plutarch did find a way of creating chances for me to stay away from Cal.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Snow starts and my attention is back on him, "This is the 75th year of the Hunger Games" he announces and che crowd cheers and screams, "and it was written in the charter of the Games that every 25 years, there would be a Quarter Quell to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against The Capitol. Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance. And now on this, the 75th anniversary of pur defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell..." as the crowd cheers again, Snow takes out a chard, "... as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol."

Wait...

"On this, the third Quarter Quell Games, the male and female Tributes"

I don't like this...

"Are to be reaped from the existing pool of Victors in each district."

I can't help my shocked expression, what...? I try to look for Plutarch, but I can't see him.

"Victors shall present themselves on Reaping Day, regardless of age, state of health or situation."

This is the last place I want to be right now, i can't even listen to any more words from the President's mouth.

I don't even know what to think... if this is Plutarch's idea, I really don't know what he thinks he would get from it...

Oh god...

Finnick...

Finnick said a good part of the Victors are part of this rebellion... maybe that's what Plutarch has in mind.

Fuck.

I snap back at the present when I feel Cal's hand touching mine.

"And now," Snow's voice completely grounds be back, "our very own, Cal Kingslay, would like to say a few words,"

Cal stands up and joins Snow at the front.

"Thank you, president. It's an honour being here today, to celebrate this very special third Quarter Quell," the crowd applauses, "and... I want to thank every single person here today for the support they showed after my father's passing. So I thought to share the following moment with you all,"

My chest tightens, my heart is pounding inside so much it feel like it's about to explode... and I would be glad if it happened.

"There's one person, who's always being there for me... she's the one who always knows hot to make me smile, I only need to think of her and I'm suddenly a lot better... that is why..."

He turns around and walks towards me, my eyes are wide open. I try to make it seems like I'm excited and not absolutely terrified.

He comes in fron of me and goes down on one knee.

"Shit.." I breath out. He nervously smile as he takes something from his jacket.

The interaction would've felt like a very sweet moment... in other circumstances.

"So, Y/n L/n would you give me the honour of becoming my wife?" He asks, opening a small box revealing a silver ring with a stone embedded.

He looks at me and I look at Snow, who's looking at me with a look I know all too well.

"Do it or there would be consequences."

I look back at Cal and move my hand to make him stand, I don't think I would be able to speak without betraying myself, so... I kiss him.

[buckyswintersoldiermask]

Prompt: “if you want to do everything alone, go ahead. I’m not stopping you.”

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Bucky Masterlist

Summary: Bucky is done.

Warnings: angstyyyy

Word Count: 492

A/N: I guess I’m back? Hiii

For years, you relied on one person, herself. Is that your destructive trait? Is the fact that you can’t count on anyone else the cause of your relationship ending? Are you the problem?

You had been keeping something from Bucky for weeks now, that’s something you normally did. He didn't normally have a problem with it, but you were having trouble at work, lashing out at people. You were lashing out at him for little things, like a dish in the sink, or a blanket left on the couch. Everything that Bucky did, upset you.

“Bucky, leave me alone, I don’t want to talk to you right now,” you say walking out of the kitchen to the dining room.

Bucky wouldn’t take that. This was your third argument this week. Each time you wouldn’t open up to him. Bucky follows you into the dining room, calmly. “Why won't you let me help you?” He puts his hands on your shoulder, “(y/n), doll, what’s going on?”

You shake off his hands and walk away further, “You didn't wash your dishes last night.”

“Cut the crap (y/n), what is the problem? You won’t let me hug you, kiss you, nothing!” Bucky says slightly upset but not letting it show.

“I know,” you respond, still facing the wall.

You and Bucky sat there in silence for a moment, dwelling in both of your thoughts. Bucky knows you are having a hard time right now and he just wants to support you. He wants to be there for you like he’s always been, but lately, he’s a bit drained. Between work, his friendships, and this tumultuous relationship, he doesn’t know what to do. He tries to be strong for both of you, but who's being strong for him?

“(y/n).. Talk to me.”

“No.”

“(y/n), talk to me. Please.” He almost begged.

You stare at him, not wanting to let him in like always. Bucky was getting frustrated with you.

“Why are you like this?!” He shouts, startling you. You face him and fold your arms, “so we’re yelling now?”

“I’m tired of this.” Bucky says exhausted, you can hear it in his voice, “I can’t keep doing this.”

“What does that mean?” You ask under your breath.

“Exactly what I said, I can’t do this anymore.”

You look at Bucky speechless, it has come down to this.

“If you want to do everything alone, go ahead. I’m not stopping you,’ He pauses for a moment, “I have been by your side for 6 years and you have refused to open up and talk to me. I have loved you more than you’ve loved yourself. I can’t do this anymore.”

Your face falls when you realize he’s being serious. Your heart breaks a little but you know it's your fault. You nod, not putting up a fight, and say okay, realizing you are too stubborn to change, and that's why he’s leaving you.

Please do not steal, copy or translate my writings, or post them on other sites.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated :)

Bucky: @qhbr2013 @allforkook @supremethunda @amelia-song-pond @tinylumpiaa @leyannrae @teebarnes @teti-menchon0604 @mogaruke @ccosmic-illusion @supraveng @1-800-imagines @l1nd3n @casa-boiardi

[jaeyums]

Just One More (Teaser)

Pairings - Fratboy!Haechan x reader (lowkey x dreamies)

Word Count - 800

Content Warning - smut (obvi), angst, slight corruption kink, dacryphilia, oral (f receiving), fingering, drinking, loss of virginity, Fratboy!Haechan (kinda), Toxic!Haechan, mentions of drowning (what??) pls lmk if I missed anything

Summary - You curse your new neighbours for partying what feels like every night, the booming bass making it impossible to sleep. Fed up, you finally ask them to turn it down, but when you’re forced to make a seemingly harmless deal, things spiral faster than you ever could’ve imagined.

A/N - This is my first ever post so pls lmk how y’all like it :,) if this is received well, part 1 will be coming very soooon

| next

——————————————————

The thin walls of your shitty apartment vibrate violently, being pushed back and forth by the angry bass of the song being blasted next door.

Ever since your new neighbours moved into the suite next to your place, you have had little peace.

Usually you tough out these late night parties, not wanting to be that annoying neighbour, though it was clear they did not share that same concern.

But tonight was different, you couldn’t afford to tough it out. You had a midterm tomorrow that you were trying your best to study for, and you had an early morning shift to go to before said exam.

Having reached your breaking point, you shove yourself back from your desk, causing a pen or two to roll onto your bedroom floor.

The next thing you know, you’re banging on your neighbours door, beating it in the hopes they’ll hear your knocks above the music and chaos.

After what felt like an eternity, you sigh in defeat, your hand burning slightly, as you decide to give up. Just as you turn to leave you hear a click and the door slides open.

You feel the determined rage dissipate as a tall boy with messy black hair and doe-like eyes stare down at you curiously. His gaze lingering too long as he looks you up and down, and you suddenly feel self conscious as you realize you didn’t changing out of your pjs before trying to break down his door.

Your short shorts mostly covered with an oversized top that hung lazily off your shoulder quickly felt all too revealing, especially with the lack of bra causing your nipples to slightly peak through the fabric.

You finally break the silence between you two, arms crossing over your chest.

“Hey sorry, I’m your neighbour. Um, Would you mind turning the music down please?”

He meets your eyes, a mischievous smirk slowly growing.

“Why should I? I pay for this apartment, I should be able to do what I want in it shouldn’t I?”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by his cocky entitlement.

“Please, I’m trying to study and I have a really early shift tomorrow. Could you keep it down just for tonight?”

Normally you’d challenge someone like him, but you knew you didn’t have the energy to pull this argument off and come out victorious.

“Well since you asked so nicely, I’ll think about it.”

He pauses, pretending to scrunch his eyebrows deep in thought, even bringing his finger up to scratch his head cartoonishly.

“Okay, I’ve thought about it. I’ll keep it dead quiet in here for the rest of the night, but on one condition.”

You feel relief wash over you, knowing that your ears might finally get some rest tonight.

“Okay fine, what is it?”

“You have to come to my party tomorrow.”

He leans in, his forearm against the doorway grinning, knowing you don’t really have a choice. By this point one of the other party goers had approached the door wondering what’s going on.

“Is the pizza here or something?”

A boy peaks is head through the doorway, pushing the door back further so he can get a better look.

“Oh not pizza but definitely something I’m hungry for.”

He says with a joking grin, met with a light shove from the other boy.

“Jeno, our friend here was just telling us how excited she is to come to the next party, right?”

The boy named Jeno looks to you for confirmation.

“Dunno Haechan, she doesn’t look too excited.”

They both laugh, like some inside joke you just weren’t in on. You shift awkwardly, this exchange having already taken up too much of your study time.

“Okay, I’ll come. But the second I hear music blasting again the deal is off.”

“I promise it’ll stay silent.”

Haechan says, holding his heart mockingly. With that you turn to return to your room, but as you do you here someone behind you take a sharp inhale, eliciting a laugh from the other. You turn around to see there eyes trailed down your body, but they quickly close the door before you can say anything.

You roll your eyes, once again cursing yourself for your hurriedness when leaving your place.

Sinking back into your desk chair, you realize the music has since stopped entirely. It was so quiet you wondered if the boys were even still there. But you wouldn’t waste another second, and got right back to studying, blissfully unaware of what was yet to come.