#I don't care that the games been out for years I need this button

[peachhcs]

I need more Sammy & Will. You have me hooked on them both!

:)

samy + will's first few days in herning together as will gets ready for the tournament. i've been enjoying expanding more about samy's character and her getting through her ed, so i've sprinkled that in throughout this as well as something a little fun at the end

warnings: talk of ed, depiction of ed, suggestive but nothing really happens besides kissing, zeev and cole being annoying

au masterlist

samy wasn't used to it being so bright out still so close to 9pm. her and will were on the balcony of their hotel room soaking in the warm weather after a long day of walking around the city with zeev and cole. they squeezed themselves into the same chair so samy was basically on top of will, but neither of them minded. after spending the last few months apart because of games and school, the couple was happy to be so close again.

will's thumb was rubbing gentle circles into her back while his other held his phone watching whatever macklin kept sending him. samy's gaze was on the sky, enjoying how the clouds morphed into different pinks, oranges, and yellows. it reminded her of last summer when she was in prague with will and luke, except this year all of her brothers were out of the competition due to the numerous injuries they got by the end of the season.

it was actually a miracle that her parents and brothers let her go without much of a fight. "you've been quiet," will finally said as he set his phone down and held the brunette a little tighter against his side.

"just thinking," samy hummed. will said something but she didn't catch it. she looked up to meet his wondering gaze, blushing when he reached down to brush some of her loose hair behind her ears.

"anything specific?"

"not really. this reminds me of last summer when we were in prague," she grinned but will grimaced. he tried not to think about last summer too much after the mess it became. "what?" the girl laughed.

"i try not to think about last summer too much," will shook his head.

"okay, well before that happened. prague was really fun you have to admit," it was good samy was able to laugh about it now.

"it was very fun. i liked that city and getting to hang out with luke and play on the same team as him," will grinned. "i'm kind of sad neither of them are here this time around."

"i know i was just thinking about that. it's been awhile none of them have been on the roster, but it's good they're taking time to heal their injuries to be even better next season."

"i agree. i can't wait to play them again. i'm glad you're here though," the hockey player squeezed her side which made samy squirm.

"you'd think i miss this? i'm just glad my parents even let me come in the first place."

"they trust us. we're adults. plus, they have to know we—"

"oh yeah, they do. my mom has brought it up to me before," the younger hughes cut her boyfriend off with a giggle. will's cheeks burned.

"she did? what did she say?" he was shocked.

"just..the usual mom talk. be safe. be careful. don't do anything regrettable. glad you're on the pill. it was short because i didn't really wanna talk about it," samy cringed just thinking about it.

"oh, how lovely."

"and i assume your mom knows too because you know, our parents love to talk," the brunette laughed again.

"right."

"i think i was more worried about my brothers letting me go than my parents," samy started playing with the buttons of will's shirt that was now almost halfway unbuttoned. the boy raised his eyebrow though.

"why? they don't care what we do," he scoffed a bit.

"i know. i think i was more worried they wouldn't let me because..." the soccer player trailed off mostly because she didn't wanna say it out loud. she still hadn't gotten herself to utter those words yet, only hearing it from luke that one time. will quickly caught on.

"oh. yeah."

a sort of awkward silence fell between the couple. it was still something samy hadn't talked in depth with will yet. they talked around it at the lake house, but the boy knew better than to pry wanting her to talk about it when she was ready. it wasn't that samy didn't want to talk to him, she just didn't know how. it wasn't easy bringing up something as serious as an eating disorder to her boyfriend who knew nothing about it until it got bad.

"are you mad at me for not telling you?" samy sat up a little so she could really see him. will immediately frowned.

"no, why would i be mad?"

"i dunno..i should have told you or talked to you. instead, you had to hear it from gabe...again.." the girl felt embarrassed and almost ashamed. will quickly sat up and shook his head.

"god, no i'm not mad. i'd never be mad at you for something like that. i get it. it's hard to talk about. i knew you weren't trying to intentionally hide it from me," will quickly assured which made samy feel a little better.

she adverted her gaze to pick on the sweater she had on. it never got easier to talk about as the tears welled in her eyes faster than she could stop them.

"i think it's been something i've always kind of struggled with but it's never gotten as bad as right now. it always went away and i was fine..but i dunno. this year was really hard," the girl's voice faded to a mere whisper. will's heart broke seeing her so hurt inside still. "that weekend in boston when you asked gabe to check-in with me..i lied to him. i hadn't eaten anything that morning and that lunch was my first actual meal in like..a day? two? playing that game as hard as i did really caught up to me and obviously i saw the consequences."

"did reaching out to your coaches and the sports psychologist help?" will wondered gently. samy continued to stare at her lap, but will didn't make any move to force her to look at him.

"like..kind of. i wasn't..super honest though. i said it was mostly stress and that's what i thought it was, but..i think i was lying to myself even. she gave me techniques to use when i felt overwhelmed and they worked, but i ghosted her. i don't know why. i got scared? i thought i was doing better because at least i was eating a bit more. i put on a brave face whenever i saw anyone to prove to them i was fine. i guess when hannah started being away at meets and it was just me..things fell off again. i got so busy, i stopped eating again. the anxiety came back and i just couldn't eat. no matter how hard i tried and then it just started feeling..good? i don't know. i was so deep into it i didn't know how to get back out again," the tears were freely flowing down samy's face and then she completely broke down. she hid her face in her hands feeling embarrassed that she was crying about this in front of will.

seeing her cry made will want to cry too. he's known samy all of his life and he's never seen her like this before. she was always such a go-getter and doing things to keep herself busy, always wanting to go work out, go to get something to eat after practice, dragging him to the nearest ice cream place. of course though, will wrapped his arms around her like he did back at the house. he didn't say anything knowing all she wanted was his comfort.

"i'm sorry. i don't know why i'm so upset.." samy pulled away after a moment to wipe her tears.

"stop, don't apologize. i'd never be mad at you for something like this. okay? all i want is for you to get better and i know that's not easy, but i'm here every step of the way with you, okay? we're gonna get you better, i promise," will squeezed her knuckles.

"quinn's setting up an appointment with a psychiatrist and a therapist. i have to promise i won't ghost either of them again."

"okay, that's good. it's a start. has it..been any easier..?" will asked carefully.

"i don't know. i'm kind of eating but i think it's only because you're here and i feel like i need to prove to you that i'm okay," samy knew it was bad to say that, especially when she watched her boyfriend frown.

"you know you don't have to prove anything to me. i want you to be okay, but i know it's not that easy. it will take time," he searched her gaze and the girl nodded. "come here," he opened his arms again so he could hug her completely. she fell into his chest and will wrapped both arms around her torso, leaving small kisses on her forehead.

"if one of us was gonna turn out sad, it was probably gonna be me anyway," samy joked knowing that if she didn't laugh she'd cry again. will rolled his eyes a bit.

"let's just have fun this month, yeah? we'll take it slow. there's no pressure on anything," will suggested and the girl smiled.

"too bad none of the other guys could be here," she shifted so she could see his face again. the blonde peered down at her with a similar smile.

"you should style your hair like this more," samy commented as she admired the way will's curls fell down his head and across his forehead. for once, he wasn't hiding it with a hat or something.

"like i just rolled out of bed?" the boy huffed as he ran his hand through some of it.

"i think it looks natural, it doesn't look like you rolled out of bed. you always hide it with a hat," the girl reached up to restyle what will just messed up.

"i need to cut it," the blonde said.

"not too short, please. i like the longer curls," samy pleaded mostly because she knew will valued her opinion and enjoyed pleasing her.

"i'll think about it," will said which definitely meant he was taking samy's suggestion. she smiled again and reached up to peck his lips.

"if ryan or mack said that to you, i know you'd be so quick to shut them down," she teased a bit.

"shut up."

a giggle escaped her lips which made will smile again. he was glad he could pull a laugh from her to lift her spirits. "what? you can say you're whipped. everyone knows it," samy continued with the teasing.

"yeah, i know everyone knows it. i wasn't denying i am," will smirked. his gaze flicked down to samy's lips. she caught on pretty quickly and fulfilled his wishes before he even had to ask.

will's grip tightened around her hip as their kiss quickly deepened. samy's fingers instinctively found the back of his curls to give them that slight tug that she knew drove the boy crazy. a soft grunt escaped his lips while the brunette smirked. she shifted up so will didn't have to crane his neck so much as they got lost in the taste of each other. whatever lip balm was left on her lips was completely gone from will's kissing.

the couple was so lost in the moment that they didn't hear someone knocking on their door. zeev and cole stood on the other end wondering what they were doing because there was no way they had fallen asleep at 9:30pm. instead, zeev urged them into his room that was right next to theirs. the two shuffled onto the balcony where they had a more clearer view of samy and will's.

"oh my god, ew," cole exclaimed when he saw their friends making out.

"i knew it. HEY!" zeev called over at them.

his loud voice quickly broke the couple apart. their faces burned seeing zeev and cole standing on the balcony across the way.

"what do you want?" will called back in annoyance. even all the way in a different country they couldn't get any privacy.

"we're going out! you two wanna join or are you too busy having sex—"

"we'll go. we're going," samy immediately cut zeev off and jumped off of the chair. will gave her a look.

"really?" he mumbled.

"unless you wanna stay here. that's fine. just thought we'd ask," zeev shrugged and laughed at how red will looked.

"we'll meet you in the hallway in ten minutes," samy called and pulled the boy back inside.

zeev and cole exchanged a glance when the door slid closed. "oh, they're so doing it before we meet them," he mumbled and pulled cole back inside.

will gave samy an annoyed look that she agreed to go out with them. as much as he loved his friends, he loved her more and couldn't deny that he was dying to have some time alone. however, before he could even say anything, samy's lips were back on his.

"you have ten minutes. better make it count," she mumbled.

[wall-maria-around-ba-sing-se]

Xenoblade 2's underbaked parts due to it being rushed make me so mad precisely because I can't even argue the game's release should've been delayed since it so obviously and immediately reaped the benefits of catching the Switch's growth wave at the same time of not having to compete with the abundance of JRPGs that the Switch's library would later build

like damn. I guess pushing the project out the door before it was done cooking actually did result in a larger success than if it had been delayed and polished properly this time.

I'm just glad Monolith didn't take the wrong lesson from it

[flowerandblood]

Hi, for the ask game you’re making

Glass cuts deepest

🖼️ Museum

🍁 Autumn

💐 Care

🎃 Jealousy

😬 Semi-public sex

🍓 Sexual tension

Congratulations on the milestone 😊!

The Art of Body

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ prompts: museum, autumn, jealousy, care, sexual tension, semi-public sex ]

[ warnings: unprotected sex, smut, mention of sexual trauma ]

A short written as a celebration of my 4000 followers milestone as part of this ask game, which is part of Glass Cuts Deepest story.

Rino Stefano Tagliafierro is the animation artist of François Boucher's "Leda and the Swan" 1740 [post by eucanthos]

______

"Are you sure? I don't want to force you to do anything. It's the middle of the school year, I'm sure there'll be a lot of people there." Wright muttered, looking at him with uncertainty.

He felt frustration, knowing what she meant by people.

Women.

The truth was that since they had been engaged, he had gradually but successfully managed to simply pretend that he didn't see them. When they were in a restaurant or on a walk he would focus only on her and on talking to her, often holding her hand – it made him feel safer, like when you are looking down a great precipice while holding on to the railing.

He was very proud of himself when one day they went to the cinema together to see an animation they both really wanted to watch – it turned out that there were women sitting on either side of their seats. Wright wanted to back out and just leave, recognising that they didn't need to see the film at all, but he was tired of running away all the time.

When they sat down, he shifted in his seat as close to Wright as possible, not wanting the person sitting next to him to touch him – his fiancée had been leaning over his ear throughout the screening, asking if everything was okay, and he only nodded.

He couldn't remember much of what he saw – he was unable to focus as he felt only the rapid pounding of his heart and the cold sweat on his back.

When they left the cinema, he felt relieved, but also proud, because he had done it – even though he felt sick a few times and wanted to vomit, he had endured and nothing had happened.

He felt that he was slowly ready to just go out to people and not wonder who he was passing on the way.

"I want to go there. It's the biggest museum in our country. We've been talking about it for a long time." He said, putting his black turtleneck over his head and sighed, seeing that he had ruined his elaborately styled hairdo by doing so.

Wright noticed this and involuntarily reached into his hair, trying to comb it properly again with her fingers.

He swallowed hard, simultaneously frightened and pleased that she had touched him so suddenly – he repeated to himself at times like this that he trusted her, her familiar scent and the warmth of her skin affecting him in a calming way.

"If you say so. Maybe you're right. I've wanted to see this place for a long time too." She admitted finally, and he smiled with satisfaction, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Give me a moment. I need to change." She said, opening his wardrobe, looking in it probably for one of her dresses.

Some part of him wanted her to change in front of him – she never did. On the other hand, he dreaded it – he had never seen her naked – not completely.

He had never seen her bare breasts or buttocks, only felt them beneath his hands when he put his hand under her shirt.

He swallowed hard as she threw him a warm smile and locked herself in the bathroom, feeling both relieved and disappointed.

He waited patiently for her, and when he heard her come out, he froze – her floral dress was fastened from the front with large white buttons, a fluffy, light-coloured jumper over her shoulders. She had said something to him, probably that she was ready, but all he could think about was that she hadn't put her bra on.

He could easily see the shape of her nipples under the material and something about the sight frustrated him.

Why should others look at something that even he couldn't see?

He wanted to say it, but before he opened his mouth he thought it was unfair – he himself wouldn't want her to dictate what he could and couldn't wear, and he thought his remark might be rude.

"Let's go." He said finally.

It took them a couple of hours to get there – during this time Wright had bought them tickets for all the exhibitions online, so they wouldn't have to wait in long queues at the box office. He liked how organised she was – the fact that she always helped him and didn't leave everything on his head.

He felt he could rely on her.

When they got out of the car, they ran ahead, holding hands – an intense autumn rain had broken up all around them, which meant that by the time they reached the main entrance, they were all wet.

The security guard scanned their tickets and pointed the way they should follow – after a while, their eyes were met by spacious, bright, richly lit halls with walls filled with paintings by great artists, with sculptures of wood, bronze and marble all around them.

His fiancée approached one of the medieval statues depicting the Beautiful Madonna and Child, the one they both knew well from their art history textbooks.

"Look! It's even more beautiful than in the pictures." She said cheerfully, quickly grabbing her phone, taking pictures of the sculpture.

He, however, stared at her dully, seeing the wet material of her dress clinging to her skin, her nipples clearly outlined, popping from the cold.

He felt both irritation and desire at the sight, his manhood pulsed softly in his trousers, expressing his desire to touch her.

He grunted and turned his head away, walking over to one of the baroque paintings hanging on the wall, trying not to think about it.

I'm sexualising her too much, he rebuked himself in his mind, feeling a kind of shame by doing what he himself would never want to experience again in his life.

He regained his good humour and walked with her through the long corridors filled with art, stopping constantly at some artefact – they talked about everything, delighting in the workmanship and details together, while criticising what they didn't like.

He felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach again when, standing at one of the sculptures, he saw that the man standing opposite them was looking straight at Wright's breasts – he would have thought he was being oversensitive again if it hadn't been for the slight smile of satisfaction on the man's lips, which told him that he was pleased with how much was visible through the thin material of her dress.

He didn't know why, but he grabbed her wrist and tugged at it, pulling her the other way, frustrated and enraged.

"What happened? Did someone touch you?" She mumbled, following him obediently, thinking it was all about him, as usual.

He stopped and looked at her, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

"Did you have to dress like that? Everyone's looking at you." He hissed, but immediately regretted his words – Wright blinked and shook her head, horror and discomfort in her eyes, as if what he had said had caused her pain.

"What do you mean? I don't understand. After all, my dress doesn't even reveal my cleavage." She said resentfully, looking down, only after a moment noticing what he and everyone else had seen.

She looked at him again and pressed her lips together, covering her breasts with her jumper and her hands, as if the sight of them was something disgusting, worthy of condemnation.

He felt a sting in his heart at the sight – at the thought that she felt it was her fault that other men were looking where they shouldn't.

He swallowed hard and grabbed her hands, lowering them down, making her involuntarily reveal again what she had tried to cover up only moments before.

"– forgive me – I shouldn't have said that – it's just – fuck – I just I have a hard time with the idea that someone else might be... looking at something that even I couldn't see –"

"After all, you can look at it." She whispered, speaking so that no one could hear her. "Even now, if you want to."

"Now?" He muttered, surprised by her words.

What did she mean?

"We can go to the toilet and lock ourselves in the cabin. Our first time was like that too. You did it because the area around you didn't remind you of the place where you faced something bad. About the bed." She reminded him, and he swallowed loudly, realising it was true.

He looked down once more, at the thing he wanted so badly, and nodded slowly.

"Okay."

He felt like a little boy, unable to look at her in shame when the toilet door closed behind them. Once they made sure they were alone, they hid in one of the cabins and just looked at each other for a while.

He felt his heart thump harder in his chest as her hands slowly rose to the buttons of her dress – he watched in disbelief as she began to undo it one by one, his erection twitching and swelling in his trousers, aching with desire at the sight of her bare skin.

When she reached the height of her belly, she stopped and her hands dropped – her dress was unbuttoned, but revealed only a small line of her naked skin – he could see that she was breathing heavily as was he, panting with excitement.

Involuntarily, he took one slow step towards her, then another – his large hand rose uncertainly to the height of her chest and pushed the material of her dress aside in a gentle, lazy motion. He sighed deeply, immediately covering what he saw with his fingers, feeling himself breathe through his mouth out of lust – he looked into her eyes as her hand closed over his, encouraging him to sink deeper into the structure of her plump, soft bosom.

He leaned in and kissed her, unable to withstand the tension he felt inside – his lower abdomen was filled with a wonderfully familiar, warm, tickling sensation that made his length completely hard. He pressed his hips against her abdomen, rolling them back and forth, trying to somehow soothe the need for closeness and tenderness that only she could give him.

"– feels good? –" She breathed out into his mouth, letting their lips caress again and again with the sticky clicks of their saliva, the skin of her breasts wonderfully warm and swollen, melting beneath his fingers.

"– pull down your panties –" He instructed, and she moaned softly into his mouth, immediately obeying his command.

He let her go for a moment, dealing with his trousers, only to release his heavy, painfully swollen erection – as soon as her underwear landed on the ground, he grabbed her in his arms and lifted her, so that her breasts were at the level of his face.

They both cried out as at the same time his lips closed over her hard nipple and the head of his cock opened her wide – he gasped in pleasure, feeling how warm and moist she was, but not seeing anything that was happening from her waist down, covered by the material of her dress.

"– ah –" She mewled as his arms embraced her in a confident hug and pressed her body against the cold tiles, trying to keep her balance as he sank all the way into her body with one, sure thrust of his hips.

"– be quiet or I'll stop –" He threatened and they both froze when they heard someone enter – his cock pulsed inside her greedily as he simply continued with her in that position.

He felt her hands tighten in his hair, her hot pussy squeezed his manhood hard as his tongue swirled around her little nipple, teasing and sucking on it alternately.

He grunted quietly as he felt her begin to roll her hips – some part of him wanted to stop her, hearing that someone was still inside, however the other, more animalistic part of him just wanted to pound into her – and that's what he did.

He heard her squeal softly and she immediately pressed her face against his hair, trying to deafen the sound, as their naked bodies began to slam against each other with loud, sticky smacks of her moisture. He was no longer interested in whether or not the person inside knew what had just taken place – all he could focus on was their heavy, ragged breaths, the wonderful, growing tension in his loins, the squeeze in his testicles testifying that he was close.

He couldn't contain the low growl of delight that passed in vibration across her breast, couldn't contain how desperate he was, couldn't contain what euphoria possessed him at the thought of looking, smelling, touching her naked body, experiencing nothing but bliss.

"– Aemond –" She mumbled softly into his ear, so that only he was able to hear it – her small fingers clenched on his body allowing her to keep her balance and take what he was giving her, as shocked by what they were doing as he was.

All he could think about was how warm and wet she was, how easily she welcomed him deep inside her, how much she wanted him even though they had been together for so long.

The level of trust he held in her made him able to focus only on pleasure, and after a few messy, loud slaps he came inside her with a gasp of relief.

Her nails digging into his shoulders and hair made it almost painful when he felt her body shake with an aggressive, intense orgasm, causing her to stifle a moan with difficulty, making a quiet, whimpering sound.

"– shhh – shhh, little one –" He whispered, still deep inside her, feeling his manhood and her fleshy walls pulsing in one united rhythm, snuggled into her soft, warm chest.

The touch of her bare skin, her heart beating beneath his cheek was so wonderfully intimate, personal, sweet.

Why hadn't he done this before?

They were both relieved when they heard the sound of the water being drained in the other cabin, then the door opening and someone's footsteps indicating that they were alone.

"– Aemond – my legs are aching –" She mumbled, still crossing her calves on his back, supported only by his hands that held her buttocks.

"– just a little longer –" He muttered, pressing his face harder into the silky structure of her plump breasts.

Just a little longer.

[caramelcal]

you'll always be my girl - t. nott

summary: theodore nott was your brother's best friend, and had been the boy of your dreams since you first lay eyes on him. everyone knew that. so it's a surprise when you suddenly get a boyfriend, and theodore is determined to show you why he's the better choice. always has been and always will be.

warnings: all characters are of age. smut, cheating. all that fun stuff. theo is reader's brother's best friend. reader pined for YEARS but it faded away when she got with her boyfriend. she's a bit of a pushover. virgin!reader. dom!theo. sub!reader. modern au. lots of swearing. arguing. praise kink. overstimulation. dirty talk.

note: this prob isn't great, i don't write smut often idk

"Mate move! Move! He's behind that wall." Theodore shouted, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he tapped the keys on his controller trying to be revived faster.

"Fuck! I can't find him," Lorenzo had replied, a similar tone to Theodore's as their eyes were both glued to the screen in front of them.

It was only the two of them at Lorenzo's tonight, something that wasn't overly uncommon for the two of them to do. Despite being close with the rest of their group, Theodore and Lorenzo spent the most time together just the two of them. Theodore practically lived at the Berkshire's house half the time nowadays, finding it much warmer than his own.

Honestly, it was more shocking if he wasn't at the Berkshires.

"Over there! Shit!" Lorenzo cursed, the loud, violent tapping of buttons ensuing at a more alarming rate from the two of them.

"Where's his-"

"Theo! Theo! The-" A red alert came over the screen, letting the two boys know that they had lost the game. They both put their controllers down, Lorenzo using the palms of his hands to rub his eyes in frustration, and Theodore throwing his head back with a groan.

"We really ought to get better at this mode, or we need to just stick to doubles," Theodore said, looking over at his friend who chuckled with a nod.

Mr and Mrs Berkshire were both out for the night, away on holiday, or business or whatever, Lorenzo didn't tell Theodore all the details. Theodore didn't particularly care anyway, it didn't make a big difference to him.

Lorenzo's parents were lovely to him, always greeting him pleasantly, always happy to see him, and telling him he was welcome at any time. They had even unofficially allocated one of the spare bedrooms in their house to Theo, who was eternally grateful for the escape it gave him.

"Enzo, I'm home!" Theo's attention was directed towards the door, where he heard someone kicking off their shoes by the door before walking towards the living room.

Y/n Berkshire. Lorenzo's younger sister. He was honestly surprised he hadn't noticed earlier that you weren't there. Even though you normally tucked yourself in the small library in the house, he had been here for hours and hadn't heard a peep from you.

Sure, you were normally quiet, but normally you at least said hello.

While growing up with Lorenzo, Y/n was never normally far behind. You had adored your brother when you were younger, and even as you both got older you remained close. Theodore on the other hand, had elicited a different sort of adoration from the younger girl. One that brought a blush to your face every time he spoke to you, or even looked in your direction.

It had been that way for years, and honestly, Theodore couldn't remember a time when you had been able to look him in the eye for longer than five seconds before getting too shy and looking away.

Footsteps echoed towards the living room, and the second you came into view, Theodore's eyebrows furrowed. Your body was covered in a silk dress, your hair styled perfectly and makeup on your face. You looked fancy, and Theodore could not imagine what you possibly could have been doing to require such an appearance.

There certainly weren't any parties on, if there had been, Lorenzo and Theodore would have been the first ones to know.

"How was your date?" Lorenzo didn't even look back at his sister as you sat down on the other couch, a sigh of relief as you sunk back into the comfortable material.

A date? The question had Theodore baffled. You had been on a date? With who? It certainly made the appearance seem more logical, you looked pretty. You had made that effort for a boy.

"It was good," You nodded your head, not looking over at your brother either as you grabbed the book that sat on the coffee table, flipping it open to the page you had dogeared earlier on that day so you could continue reading.

"You were on a date? With who?" Theodore asked.

"Oh, hi Teddy," You looked up from your book, sending a small smile to your brother's best friend, only just noticing him, "Adrian Pucey, he's in your year."

Teddy. The name you had called him since you started to talk. Everyone had called him Teddy when he was growing up, including Enzo, his parents and yours, but you were the only one that didn't grow out of it.

"It's Theo, y/n/n," Lorenzo had corrected you, as he always did, knowing how much Theodore despised the nickname now that he was older. What he'd never tell your brother though, was that he didn't mind it when you did it. It felt natural coming from your lips. He couldn't ever imagine you calling him Theo, or, god forbid, Theodore.

"Yeah, sorry," You mumbled, picking at the edge of your dress as you looked down at your lap, the book held in your other hand, a finger on the page you stopped reading on so you could keep your place now that you had straightened out the fold.

"Why are you going on a date with Adrian Pucey, he's…"

Theodore wasn't sure what to call him. Annoying? Arrogant? Not good enough for you?

"My boyfriend?"

"Your boyfriend?" Theodore echoed, his eyes almost bulging out of his head and jaw almost falling onto the floor. His tone was incredulous as if you having a boyfriend was completely out of the question.

"Well, that's new," Lorenzo murmured under his breath, not loud enough for you to hear, but loud enough for Theodore.

His tone let Theodore know that he, too, was not too happy about the arrangement. Adrian wasn't 'boyfriend material' and certainly not good enough for you. He was sleazy, and an average quidditch player at best.

"Yeah, is it so unbelievable that I could get a boyfriend?" Your tone -despite your word choice seeming a little sassy- was soft. Your eyes battered between the two boys, eyebrows furrowed as you sat forward.

Silence ensued between the three of you, your eyes still battering between the two boys, both of which didn't know what to say. It wasn't surprising that you could get a boyfriend, but your choice was certainly questionable. Frankly, they were too astonished to speak.

While Lorenzo had known you were spending more time with Adrian, he was hoping that it would fizzle away before labels got attached. He barely gave it any thought, thinking you wouldn't take a boy like Pucey so seriously. Oh, how he was wrong.

"I'm gonna head upstairs," You said quietly, sulking off the couch and quietly walking away, feeling a little ashamed that they seemed so surprised that you had managed to get your first boyfriend.

Theodore's eyes followed you, staying stuck to where you disappeared upstairs as Lorenzo broke the silence, breathing out some air, "Never expected that. Well, at least we know she's not pining over you anymore."

"Yeah, I guess."

…

It was less than a week later when Theodore was heading to quidditch practice, his bag slung over his shoulder, broom in his hand. He ruffled his hair with his free hand, breathing out some air as he prepared himself for what he could guess was going to be a pretty gruelling practice.

Granted, he could give himself some leeway, being the captain and all, but that didn't set a good example. They had a big game coming up in a few days and they needed to do well. There was little space for error, and Theo would make sure everyone was ready.

Hearing faint talking as he walked up to the locker room was odd, considering he was normally the first or second one there. He must've been running a few minutes late.

"-how you managed it, mate, I mean, between her being Berkshire's untouchable little sister and everyone thinking she liked Nott, you can understand why everyone's a bit surprised."

Theodore's hand halted its movement, not pushing the door open just yet as he listened in. They were talking about you.

"She just needed to know who the better boy was, didn't she?" He heard a muffled Pucey reply, "I certainly showed her."

The familiar feeling of anger began to bubble in Theodore's chest as he registered the words that came out of Pucey's words, and the laughter that followed them. Walking in, his hardened blue eyes immediately caught onto Pucey's, a silent warning.

Yet, all the smug cunt did in reply was smirk. That certainly didn't help the feeling of red, hot, anger that exploded in Theo's chest. Quidditch practice was going to be hell for him, Theo would make sure.

"Wait up!" An hour and a half later, the anger still hadn't faded from Theodore's system. His shoulders were uptight, his hand holding onto his broom with a deathly amount of force. It was a surprise the wood hadn't snapped yet.

Your light footsteps struggled to catch up with the thundering pace that Theodore kept. His eyes cast over to you beside him as you finally caught up, his hair still wet from his shower after quidditch practice.

"Can I talk to you?" You asked, looking at Theodore awkwardly. You never normally felt awkward around him, but from the way he was looking right now, you could tell he was mad, but that didn't mean you could let what happened slide.

"Mhm," He hummed in response, his eyes staying straight forward as he waited for you to speak.

"So Adrian was speaking to me and he said that you were going extra hard on him at practice. I understand that you and my brother aren't happy that we're dating but-"

"You came here to stick up for your little boyfriend?" Suddenly, Theodore had stopped walking, turning around so he was facing you. His eyes stared into yours, the anger in his voice rising.

He towered over you, making you crane your neck up to look at him, a drip of water from his wet hair falling onto your forehead. You cleared your throat lightly, not used to Theodore being in such a mood. Even if he was annoyed, he didn't normally talk to you like that.

"I- uh, yeah, kind of. I just don't think it's fair that you're punishing him. It was my choice to date him, he didn't make me."

"Listen, y/n/n, if Pucey had a problem with me, then he can come to talk to me, not send his girlfriend to sort out his issues like a fucking pussy," Theodore spat out Adrian's name like it was a disease on his tongue, his jaw clenching at the mere thought of you taking Pucey's side over his.

If you had any sense, you'd know to mind your own business. You had grown up with Theodore, you had known him for your whole life. Adrian had been your boyfriend for all of a few weeks and you were already choosing him over Theo? That was what wasn't fair, not a few more laps at training.

He saw the frown that made its way onto your face, and if he wasn't so angry at you and Adrian, then he would've crumbled. He knew you were sensitive, much more than most people, and the last thing he wanted to do normally was make you upset. Yet, if you wanted comfort then you could go to Adrian, especially after you tried to stick up for him.

Turning on his heels, Theodore began to walk away again, but it seemed you were a little more determined than normal.

"Come on Theo, you know it's not fair!"

That just about tips him over the edge. This was so unlike you, and it was all because of Adrian. You always went by what Lorenzo and Theodore said, but today you chose to stand up to Theo. You chose Adrian over Theodore and refused to let it go and now you were calling him Theo?

You had been reprimanded for over a year about still using the nickname, and a few weeks into having a boyfriend you suddenly dropped the name of endearment? That was enough.

"What was that?" Theodore stopped in his tracks the second the words had come out of your mouth, barely managing to get the words out between his gritted teeth. He looked over his shoulder at you, watching as you crossed your arms over your chest.

"You know it's unfair."

"You have no idea what's unfair, y/n."

"I know making Adri do double the number of laps as everyone else is unfair! I know knocking into him with double the power as everyone else is unfair, Theo! You're his captain, you need to be fair!"

"Stop that." His tone was reprimanding, like telling you off for doing something unspeakable. He didn't like this one bit, you talking back to him. It felt like something had been shifted and he wanted it all to go back to the way it was.

It was your turn to let out clipped, sarcastic words. Something you would have never dreamed of doing to him; the boy you had pined over for years. Yet, all you could see was an immature, childish boy, not the guy you had liked for as long as you could remember, "Stop what, Theodore?"

"Stop calling me that."

You knew exactly what he was getting at. You always had an inkling that he enjoyed the nickname you refused to drop, given that he, himself, never told you off for it. You also knew he didn't like change, and that the idea of him and Lorenzo not being your number-one priority anymore bugged him. He hated that you had a new boy in your life.

"What? Stop calling you your name?" You replied, raising an eyebrow at him as he clenched his jaw again, letting out a dark chuckle as he started to walk away.

"Just fuck off, y/n."

You didn't bother to follow him.

…

You and the girls were bustling about in your room, doing all sorts of things. Some were getting changed, some were doing their makeup and some, along with you, were doing their hair. It was a Halloween party that practically half of Hogwarts was going to, and luckily for you, the house was only a few minutes walk away from yours.

Lorenzo and his friends were getting ready too, but you had chosen to keep your girls in your room, completely separated from them. Frankly, it was too much tension, and drama, and you didn't want that to stomp on your excitement for the party.

"Hey, y/n, do you have any snacks? I'm starving," One of the girls piped up, stopping doing her makeup to look at you in the mirror. You nodded your head with a smile, telling her you'd be right back as you headed down to the kitchen.

There was noise coming from the tv as you walked by the living room, letting you know that some of Lorenzo's friends were probably in there, taking a mental note to avoid. You wished that he had gotten the vibe to keep his friends in his room, but your brother was clueless sometimes.

He even seemed to be clueless about the fact that you and Theodore had been ignoring one another for the last three weeks, acting as if the other didn't even exist. With your arms full of all types of snacks, you left the kitchen, making your way back up the stairs.

Your eyes are on the snacks in your hand, making sure that none of them are going to fall as you walk, only to be halted by something being in your way. You had walked into someone.

"Oh, sor-" You cut yourself off as you looked up, making eye contact with intense blue eyes staring down at you. You narrowed your eyes.

"Y/n," He had acknowledged you for the first time, but not being nearly happy about it, his mouth in a thin, straight line, and his voice apathetic.

You mirrored his tone and body language, "Theodore."

He remained looking down at you, your pretty eyes looked up at him in disdain, a constant reminder of how you guys had last interacted with one another. He was still slightly mad, more irritated than anything, about the situation, and it was clear you weren't over it either.

It was so unlike you, and he hated that. While he wanted you to stick up for yourself more regularly, he hated that it only seemed to be him that you were being resistant to. It frustrated him to no end, that your relationship after so many years had changed so much in the blink of an eye.

He missed the way you looked at him with your doe-like eyes, so hopeful and kind and soft. Now, they were narrowed, almost as if a threat for him to say something. He hated that it was like you were trying to test his patience.

His mouth opened slightly, just about to speak to you, only to not get the chance, your bedroom door opening, "Y/n, c'mon! I'm hungry!"

In an instant, your eyes are no longer looking at him, but down towards the snacks that lay in a disorganised bundle in your arms, brushing by the taller boy towards your room. You spare no attention towards him, not a word nor a glance, leaving him alone in the hallway as you continue getting ready in your room.

It doesn't feel too long after that when you are all ready, all of you bundling down the stairs ready to go to the party. You know all the boys are now in the living room, and you would have happily walked by without entertaining him, but you knew you couldn't.

"Enzo, can I have some of the money mum and dad left?" You say, coming into the room. The boys are all ready too, but you know they won't leave until the party had already started for forty-five minutes at least, too busy playing video games and not wanting to be around for the awkward start most parties have.

You adjust the wings that are on your back as you walk towards your brother, white boot heels hitting off the wooden floor, the girls falling shortly behind you.

Theodore's eyes flicker up to you casually, but when he catches sight of you his jaw almost falls off, the modest girl you are, with the shortest skirt on he's ever seen. If you turn around, he knows he's almost guaranteed to see the curve of your ass, driving his mind haywire.

You adjust your bright-coloured corset and wings once more. It's obvious that you're supposed to be a fairy, but Theodore knows you're no Tinkerbell. You're perhaps the sluttiest, most tempting fairy he's ever seen. His mind races.

Lorenzo scratched the back of his neck, "Kitchen."

You nodded your head, heading off to the kitchen as all the boys quiet down. Lorenzo looked down at his phone, as the girls all follow you out of the room, "Mate…"

"What?" Lorenzo replied as Theodore sat beside him, all the other boys engaging in small talk again.

"Are you letting your sister go wearing that? Surely you can't," Theodore's trying to keep calm, but his mind is practically begging Lorenzo to make you change. The thought of someone else seeing the curves of your naked thighs and the curve of your arse makes Theo want to die.

"Nah mate, it's not ideal, to be honest, but her mates are just…they call you all sorts and start screaming if you say anything," Lorenzo finally looked up at his best friend, and Theodore can tell that Lorenzo isn't very happy with the predicament either, "and y/n/n just doesn't listen anymore, so there's no point."

There was a point though, to Theodore anyway. He didn't care what your friends thought, or about this new attitude you had adopted since you started dating Adrian.

You're back in the living room soon enough, coming to say bye, but Theodore is quick to walk over to you, not looking very impressed. He speaks lowly, "You should go change."

"What? Why? Do I look bad?" You smooth down your skirt a little, looking up at him with your usual wide eyes, a crack in this new attitude you've been showing lately.

"No," He's quick to shut down any doubt you have about your appearance, "It's just a bit inappropriate."

"Oh, don't be a prude, Theodore," One of your friends overhears, piping up in your support.

"Go change," He paid little mind to your friends, looking down at your eyes and repeating his previous order.

"Girl, you look so hot, don't let him cramp your style," Another one of your friends joins in to support you, a hand on your shoulder as she began to steer you out, "now let's go before he has anything else to say."

The second he saw you being steered out the door and towards the party, he just knows that this night is going to be one of frustration.

His prediction was correct. Only an hour and a half later he was ready to get out of there, the strongest alcohol he could find in a glass with his hand wrapped around it. Purple strobe lights, people laughing, and loud music all seem to fade into the background as his eyes focus on you. He could tell Pucey was trying to rile him up, and it was working.

His hands have been all over your body: while dancing, while sitting down, just every second of this party, and Theodore loathed it. He hated that Pucey's dirty, sleazy hands were on your soft skin, exactly where they didn't belong.

He tried to ignore it, his eyes closing as he downed the rest of his drink, slamming it down on the table. He didn't know where any of his friends were, and honestly, didn't care. He didn't want to talk to anyone or be with anyone but you right now.

He hated that he was thinking about you like this. Lorenzo's baby sister. It was supposed to be the other way around, you were supposed to be the one obsessing over him, so why couldn't he get you out of his head? Why have you been the only thing consuming his thoughts for weeks?

"Hey there, love," A girl sat down beside Theodore, a thing he loved at parties normally. The attention was something that had him feeling smug, but he couldn't even bring himself to look at her. His eyes focused on you as he hears your giggle echo through the room as Pucey whispered something in your ear.

Nothing Pucey could say would ever be funny enough to elicit such a beautiful sound. It felt illegal that he was allowed to hear your laugh, never mind be the reason for it.

"You seem tense, Theo," The girl puts her lips slowly closer and closer to Theodore's neck, her voice quieter and slower as she teased her lips against his neck, lightly grazing it, "Let me help you."

The song that blasts through the speakers had Pucey pulling you up to dance, twirling you around in his arms until his hands thread through to hold your waist. You're facing away from Theodore, completely naive to the blue eyes that follow your every move.

Your boyfriend, on the other hand, couldn't have been happier to meet Theodore's cold gaze, a smirk coming to his lips as he looked down at you, then moving away slightly, only to bring a hand down on your arse.

That has Theodore on his feet immediately, hearing the yelp that you let out as he stormed towards Pucey, ripping him away from you and getting right in his face. He was taller than Adrian, towering over him too as he gets right up in his face, "Don't fucking lay a hand on her again!"

"Theo!"

"She's my girlfriend mate, I'll do what I want." Pucey only fuelled the fire of rage that burned in Theodore's chest. You seem frozen, unsure of what to do as you try and catch the attention of either boy, wanting this nightmare to end.

"Yeah, we'll fucking see about that," Before you could even react, Theodore's fist is making contact with Adrian's nose, and Adrian stumbled back for a few steps before his legs gave way underneath him and he was on the floor.

A gasp emitted from your throat in shock and horror, looking at Adrian as he groaned, holding his nose, red staining the skin. A hand grabbed your wrist, much softer than you had expected from the same fist that had just floored your boyfriend, and dragged you away.

"Theo-"

"We're going home, y/n."

The next thing you know is that you're at the front steps of your home, wanting to say something, anything. Yet, any time you took a breath of air before speaking, Theodore was sending you a look that had you shutting your mouth straight away. Something was daring in his eyes, something a lot more threatening than normal.

His grip gave you little opportunity to wriggle free, his other hand banging open the door, his foot harshly hitting it shut behind you before you are trailing after him up the stairs. He barely gave your feet any chance to keep up with him before you were in his room.

He only let go once you were in the middle of his room, the door shut behind you both. The room is dark, and you both are heaving out a breath. You can just about see Theodore's shoulders sag a little, his voice quieter as he spoke, "I don't like what the boy is doing to you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Dressing like this," He stepped towards you, his fingertips grabbing the edge of your skirt as he continued, "acting like a slut, that's not you baby, you're normally so good."

Your stomach is filled with butterflies as he looked down at your eyes, soft for the first time in weeks, "I am good, I-"

"You think tempting me like this is good, baby? Wearing this outfit and dancing with another man's hands all over your body," Your stomach flipped at the pet name once more, your heart feeling as if it's going to race out of your chest.

Your throat feels blocked up as you watch every slight move he takes, feeling as if this moment is surreal; as if you're dreaming. His voice turned soft as he spoke again, "Where'd my good girl go?"

His hand caressed the side of your face softly, the pad of his thumb swiping over your soft skin and guiding your somewhat messy hair away from your face so he can see you more clearly. You had dreamed of this moment for so long, hoping that one day Theodore would reciprocate your feelings.

The feeling of his hands on you was so euphoric that no amount of dreaming could have ever made you feel like this. This was real.

"I-" You couldn't speak, your brain feeling as if it was going to overload.

You knew this was wrong. Theodore was your brother's best friend, you had grown up with him. He was off limits. You had a boyfriend. So why couldn't you find it in yourself to pull away from his grasp?

You felt as if you were getting pulled closer to his body. The temptation is so bad that no amount of self-control could save you now. You were a goner, you had always been when it came to Theodore.

Since you had been young, you knew that you would do anything for him. Anything so that he could give you this sort of attention, and make you feel like a princess. Your rational thoughts and morals should be pulling you away, but your heart aches for him, it always has.

"You gonna show me how much of a good girl you can be, angel?" He asked, almost as if he was trying to aid you in finding your words. You could only nod your head.

Suddenly, the familiar scent of cologne and cigarette smoke overtook your senses, his lips crashing against yours in a soft, but desperate kiss. His hands reached around you to pick you up, your hands going into his soft hair, grabbing onto the strands with your fingers as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Swiping his tongue across your lips, you opened your mouth, letting him deepen the kiss as he took steps towards the bed, lowering you down onto the bed. His lips are still connected to you, and you can feel your lungs begging for oxygen, but you don't want to pull away.

Theodore does first, his blue eyes meeting yours as you slowly manage to open your eyes, your lips parted as you breathe in, trying to fill your lungs with the oxygen they had been deprived of. You follow his eyes as he slowly kisses down your neck, then down the valley of your breasts, his hands pulling down the corset, and you're quick to aid him in pulling it off.

The feeling of his lips grazing over your stomach has you hitching in a breath, watching as his head slowly lowers down your body. Then, his head is nestled between your thighs, kissing the soft skin that isn't hidden by your skirt. The hair on his head tickles them, the skin so sensitive, so unused to being given this much attention feeling so good.

With a racing heart, you watch as Theodore pulled up slightly, wanting desperately for him to touch you where you needed him the most. You ached, a feeling in you that you had never experienced before. You knew that Theodore often evoked feelings in you that you never experienced with anyone else, but this was new.

"You sure about this, baby?" You nodded your head in immediate response, but that didn't please Theo. With a light swat to the inside of your thighs, he looked at your eyes with a slightly more serious expression, "Use your words."

"Yes," The word spilt from your lips breathily, "Please."

Theodore, with a satisfied smile, came up to your face, leaning over you and softly attaching your lips to his. It feels just as surreal as the first time, and it makes your heart race just the same.

With his mouth still attached to yours, you feel his fingers brush against the fabric of your panties, just over your clit, making you hitch a breath. His fingers move the light fabric to the side, his fingers teasing against your hole.

"So wet for me, baby," The praise isn't taken lightly by you, soaking up every inch of approval he gives you.

Slowly, he adds a second finger, his thumb pressing down on your clit as his fingers curl into you, making you let out a breathy moan into the kiss that he eagerly swallows.

Your back arches off of the mattress, and as good as it feels you need more. You need him, "Theo…"

The blue of his eyes meets your gaze as you whine. You can't help it, you're desperate for more, to feel him inside of you. To take care of you and this pressure you can feel building in your stomach.

You mumble something out, a feeble attempt at getting him to speed up the process without verbally admitting that you're desperate for him. He doesn't take the hint though, not that you ever expected him to. He was torturous, tempting you and teetering towards what you wanted, but keeping you on the edge.

"Please."

It's a whisper as you let out another moan, your fist clenching his hair in your hand, grabbing onto any part of him that you can keep from pulling away.

A ghost of a smirk came across his mouth as he raised an eyebrow, "Please what, baby?"

You could tell from the familiar look in his eyes that he knew exactly what you wanted, his fingers curling up once more as they stretched lightly, stretching you out. Your eyes screwed shut as you felt slight tears pricking at your eyes. It just felt so good.

"Please," A broken whisper escaped your lips once more as you let out another moan, his thumb roughly coming down on your clit as you tried to bring your hips up, feeling a knot form in your stomach. It was so unfamiliar and had you heaving for a breath as you grabbed fistfuls of Theo's sheets.

With a final thrust of his fingers and a pinch against your clit, you came undone with a strangled moan. Your face was tilted back, mouth open and eyes closed, your hips bucking up to chase your high. You looked unreal, and Theo couldn't get enough.

When he removed his hands from you, he was coated in your bliss, your eyes softly opening, half-lidded, looking as Theodore brought his fingers up to his lips, his tongue transferring the taste of you, sweet and blissful, into his mouth. Your cheeks were tainted red when you realised what he had done, shifting about on the mattress and casting your eyes down.

Yet, you don't get much of a chance when a strong hand reaches for under your jaw, pulling him back up to meet his eyes, "Don't go all shy on me now, angel."

He could see the slight fuzz in your eyes as you stare at him, and he loved it. He liked how, simply with his fingers, he already had you dazed. His hands were soon pulling down his trousers with ease, and lifting his shirt off with one hand, leaving him in only his boxers.

You could see the outline of his bulge, and it had you gulping. You didn't know how the hell you were going to be able to fit that. He was so much bigger than you had imagined, or expected.

"Don't worry baby, we'll take it slow," He was quick to reassure you, a smug smile on his lips as he brings his mouth down to your collarbone, lightly nipping the skin as he sucked. It was definitely going to leave a mark, but that's what he wanted. He wanted Pucey to see it the next time he saw you, trying to assert some dominance on the situation.

Once he pulled his boxers down, he was soon lining up his tip with your entrance, lightly brushing it against your walls. He couldn't help himself when he asked, "Has Adrian ever-"

He began, but you were quick to shake your head vigorously, giving him a sense of satisfaction. He watched as your eyes screwed shut, soft breaths falling from your lips as he asked, much softer, "Is this your first baby?"

Unwilling to admit it out loud, you hesitantly nod your head, confirming Theodore's suspicions. He only just managed to conceal his grunt of satisfaction at being the first one to see you this way. To be the one to ruin you.

"Don't worry," His head is just beside your ear, a hand coming to gently brush the hair away from your face so not a single change or twitch in your face could go unrecognised by him. He wanted to see everything, every reaction you had as he ruined you, as he made your face twist in a type of pleasure that was entirely unfamiliar to you.

Slowly, he began to push into your tight entrance, the feeling of your walls squeezing him making him want to release already, grunting. He can hear your breathy moans of pain and pleasure as he struggled to go slowly, watching as he disappeared inch by inch inside of you.

All he wanted to do was slam into you, to hear as you screamed in pleasure, but he controlled himself, gripping the sheets with his hands to remain his discipline. You feel tiny in comparison to him.

When he finally bottomed out inside of you, you let out a strangled breath, not used to this feeling of being penetrated like this.

"You feel like heaven, sweetheart," The praise fell from his lips as he grunted once more, one of his hands coming to hold the side of your neck.

"'m so full," You partially cried out, tears leaking from your eyes at the unfamiliar feeling. It felt so good, overwhelmingly so, that you couldn't help the water that leaked out of your eyes.

His mouth came to softly kiss the tears away, your hands coming up to wrap around his back to hold him close to you. You wanted him as close as humanely possible as you slowly became accustomed to the feeling of him inside you.

"You're doing so well, baby," The praise is murmured against your cheek, his eyes closed in pleasure, "Let me know when I can move."

It isn't long before you're giving him the green light and he rocks his hips back and then forward, going slower to start with and soaking up your moans and whimpers with his mouth. His thumb pressed against your clit as he began to go faster, making your moans get louder and you become more desperate.

His hips snapped against yours and you sob into his lips, your nails scratching down his back. His hands are everywhere, exploring every inch of your body and worshipping it all. He knew he could sit and caress each part of your skin and never get bored, feeling intoxicated by the softness of it.

You were like a drug, something he shouldn't touch, something that was supposed to be off-limits, but far too tempting to leave alone. He knew that from now on, he'd never be able to let go of you, never be able to keep his hands to himself.

Your moans were melodic to him, something that he could never get over hearing. He had never had sex like this with anyone before, always quick fucks to satisfy his needs, but this was different. He felt like the barrier was broken, that you guys were connecting on a different level. Something you could never go back from. He would never let you.

The look of your parted lips, mascara running down your cheeks with your tears and your hair messy was a sight that no man but him deserved to see. He could tell you were getting close, he was too, your walls clenching around him as your moans got higher in pitch and louder.

The tears roll down harder, pouring out of your eyes as you barely manage to get your words out, "Teddy- please."

The return of the nickname has him going harder, abusing your g-spot as he hit off it time and time again, igniting a flame in his stomach as he leaned down and pressed a kiss against your forehead.

"There she is," He whispered to you, his lips still against your forehead, "There's my good girl."

You came not long after that, walls convulsing as you came around his cock, moans loud as he found himself not far behind, quickly pulling out as he came over your skirt and bare chest, both of you panting and moaning, lost in the sound and feeling of one another.

[count-on-mi]

Mile High Club (Mina)

Mina is a senior flight attendant of an airline. The stewardess uniform tightly wraps her towering breasts and round buttocks, , also her angelic face, always allow her attracting countless envious glances when shuttle through the air.

As a senior flight attendant, Mina knows the first-class passengers on the plane very well. She knows which passengers will stare at her beautiful legs as soon as they board the plane, and which guests like to deliberately touch her butt when collecting their luggage. some people will even send her obscene invitations to " take care of " themselves during the flight.

Mina never refuses invitations from these men because she knows her advantages - she has a mesmerizing face and a pair of beautiful legs that can drive any man crazy. Whenever Mina sees the first-class guests casting fiery glances at her, she knows she has a new target.

Mina walked lightly to the first-class seat in black pointed high heels, attracting the attention of many people along the way.

She sat nimbly next to a middle-aged man about forty years old. This was not the first time this guest had taken this flight. Mina recognized his squinting eyes immediately.

" Hello, sir, I am Mina, the steward of this flight . Do you need anything?" Mina smiled and handed over a glass of red wine. Her little hand slipped across the man's arm intentionally or unintentionally, causing the other person to immediately become short of breath.

"Ah... no, no... I'm just... honored to be on your flight..." the man replied incoherently, and Mina noticed that his eyes kept rolling on her thighs.

"Then, if you have any needs, sir, please call me at any time and I will try my best to satisfy you." Mina put the red wine in front of the man, got up and walked towards the other passengers.

" Really ... is it okay ...?" The man looked at Mina 's back in surprise, watching her tall and graceful figure gradually move away, with an evil smile on his lips.

Of course, Mina understood the meaning behind this smile, she had expected it, but this was her job - to meet the various needs of first-class guests, even those that went beyond ordinary etiquette.

Sure enough, after the meal was over, the middle-aged man pressed the internal call button. Mina smiled knowingly, opened the hatch and walked in. "Sir, how can I help you?" Mina stood in front of the man and asked with a low eyebrow.

The men looked at Mina lustfully : "I want ... to let you stay with me here for a little while ... just for a little while ..."

Mina blinked innocently: "Here? But this is against the rules..."

"Don't be afraid... we'll keep the noise down... and I'm willing to give you some tips..." The man quickly took out a stack of thick bills from his wallet, put it on the table and pushed it to Mina.

Mina's eyes wandered between the banknotes and the man, and she quickly decided: "Since you are so sincere, then I have to try my best..."

She walked up behind the man, quietly unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt with her little hands, and whispered softly in her ear: "Sir...how do you want me to 'take care' of you...?"

The man's breathing suddenly became heavy. He reached out and grabbed Mina's arm and pulled her into his arms...

Mina smiled knowingly. She stood up and closed the seat partition to ensure that no one would disturb their "game".

Returning to the man, Mina leaned down, stretched out her tongue and licked the man's neck, leaving wet traces. "Sir, do you think my 'care' is adequate now?"

The man had been completely aroused by Mina. He roughly pulled open Mina's collar and covered her breasts with his hands and keep kneaded them. "Oh...it's so cool...I really should have chosen first class earlier..."

Mina hummed softly, raised her neck and let the man bite her throat. Her little hand restlessly inserted into the man's crotch, skillfully found the hot hard cock, and began to stroke it up and down.

" Umm ... you are so amazing ... It is already so big ..." Mina looked at the man with charming eyes and increased the speed of her hand.

"Fuck! It's so fucking exciting..." the man roared, grabbing Mina's wrist to stop her movement, then grabbed her collar and ripped it open, revealing a large area of snow-white skin.

" Miss Mina ... I want you to give it to me now ..." the man gasped and growled. Mina nodded with a smile, knelt on the ground and took off the man's pants ...

Mina gently took off the man's pants and underwear. The man's already highly erected penis eagerly popped out and jumped twice in the air.

"Oh...it's so energetic..." Mina wrapped her fingers around the thick and hard penis, stroked it up and down a few times before lowering her head and swallowing the tip into her mouth.

"Ah...Miss Mina...so good..." The man cried out comfortably, and inserted one hand into Mina's hair to press her head down, while the other hand reached into Mina's open top. The pair of white and tender breasts were rubbed vigorously inside.

Mina didn't care about the man's rough movements. She skillfully swallowed the huge thing in her mouth, and occasionally lick the sensitive crown with the tip of her tongue to arouse the man's excitement.

"It feels so good... You are much better than that whore last time..." The man became more and more excited. He simply picked up Mina's head and inserted it completely. His abdomen hit her chin and made a loud slapping sound.

Mina tried her best to relax her throat to allow the man to thrust easily, sucking and swallowing with the men’s rhythm at the same time. Soon the man's breathing became heavy and rapid, the only thing left in the cabin was the man's sensual moans and the gurgling sound of water in Mina's throat...

With Mina's efforts, the man quickly reached climax. He held Mina's head firmly against his crotch, and a thick white liquid spurted out, pouring all of it into Mina's mouth.

Mina did not spit out the man's penis immediately, but swallowed every drop of semen in her mouth, and did not raise her head until the man softened.

" Miss Mina ... you are so wonderful ..." the man gasped, still stroking Mina 's hair with his big hands.

Mina smiled and wiped away the residue from her lips, then crawled back onto the man: " In that case, sir, do you want more ' care ‘? "

Without saying a word, the man pushed Mina down on the seat and eagerly pulled open her uniform skirt, revealing the narrow thong between her slender legs. " Fuck ... you little evil ... I'm going to fuck you up ..." The man growled, taking off his clothes, stepping forward and possessing Mina fiercely...

"Ah... so deep... you are so powerful..." Mina raised her neck and hummed softly. The man's penis was thick, long and powerful, and it reached the deepest point at once.

The man grabbed Mina's waist and pumped her quickly, hitting her every time, causing Mina to moan intermittently. "Scream louder...I like to hear your voice..." the man ordered, while increasing the intensity.

" Oh ... Sir ... be gentle ... I won't be able to bear it ..." Mina twisted her waist to escape from the man's control, but it only made the man more excited.

"Little evil... you just need to be fucked..." The man rushed forward and kissed Mina on the lips, holding her swaying breasts in his big hands and kneading them.

Mina responded to the man's deep kiss, inserted one hand between the two of them, and gently twisted the man's scrotum, while the other hand left scratch marks on the man's back.

"Hmm... It's so fucking exciting... You really should be a prostitute..." The man was so excited by Mina's reaction that his penis expanded more and more, and each penetration brought Mina greater pleasure.

In the midst of this passion, the plane suddenly encountered turbulence, and the fuselage began to vibrate violently. "Be careful...ah..." Mina exclaimed, hugging the man's shoulders tightly with both hands, and the two of them swayed on the chair.

"Fuck...I don't care...let's continue..." The man gritted his teeth, fixed Mina's buttocks with his hands and continued to thrust violently, as if he wanted to penetrate her...

Mina lost control due to the man's collision. She raised her head and threw her hair away. She screamed and twisted her waist desperately, seeming to enjoy this wild pleasure.

The bumps in the fuselage caused the two of them to constantly collide and rub against each other, which only added to the excitement of sex. Mina's legs were wrapped around the man's waist, her fingers dug deep into his back, and her nails made bloody marks.

"Fuck...it feels so good...I'm going to cum..." the man growled, speeding up his thrusts and gushing out in the deepest part of Mina.

Mina also reached climax at the same time. She screamed and stretched her waist, her vagina tightened around the man's penis like a spasm, and a large amount of honey gushed out.

" Ah ... that's great ..." Mina fell into the man's arms exhausted, her forehead covered with beads of sweat.

The man chuckled lightly and kissed the corner of Mina's lips: "Your 'care' is so perfect... I will only choose you when I fly first class in the future..."

Mina chuckled and whispered in the man's ear: " Then we'll see you on the next flight ..."

When the man heard this, he was immediately excited. He hugged Mina tightly and planned to have a second round...

"Wait..." Mina suddenly pushed the man away with an embarrassed expression.

"What's wrong?" The man looked at Mina in confusion.

Mina blushed and shook her head: "For the second round of your special service, we need to charge some extra fees..."

The man's eyes widened: "What do you mean? Aren't you a flight attendant on the plane?"

Mina said: " Yes, but to provide such a long-term special service to one customer, there is still an additional charge ..."

"What?!" The man was furious. He stood up angrily: "So you are playing tricks on me..."

Mina quickly grabbed the man and explained aggrievedly: "Don't be angry... Of course I am willing to serve you, but this is not in compliance with company regulations... If I am found out, I will lose my job..."

"Then how much do you want?" the man asked.

Mina thought for a moment and held out three fingers hesitantly.

"Three thousand?!" The man was shocked.

" No ... it's three hundred thousand ..." Mina said with a blush.

"What?! Do you think I'm being taken advantage of?" the man was furious.

Mina immediately put on a pitiful look: " But sir ... I really can't provide such services for free ... You just said that I am much better than a prostitute ..."

The man sighed helplessly. He took out a thick stack of cash from the suitcase and threw it to Mina: "Okay... take it..."

After getting the money, Mina immediately changed into a different person. She knelt on the ground and leaned down again, using her gloves to touch the man's genitals while taking it into her mouth.

" Ah ... little fairy ... you are really ..." The man felt Mina 's skill and closed his eyes comfortably. Mina licked the man like a charming cat, her tongue swirled around the crown, and then suddenly slid into the deepest recess, scraping the sensitive spots teasingly.

"Oh... you're really good at licking..." The man couldn't help but hold down Mina's head and completely insert his penis into her mouth.

Mina obediently allowed herself to be manipulated by the man. The tip of her tongue hung at the base of the penis, rubbing the sensitive parts as the man thrust. "I'm going to cum..." The man's breathing became heavy. He held Mina's head firmly, thrust dozens of times, and then poured all the hot fluid into Mina's mouth.

Mina carefully swallowed every drop of semen, raised her head and showed a charming smile to the man: "Do you have any other 'requests'?"

The man stared at Mina's flushed lips and smiled evilly: "I want to fuck every hole in your body..." Mina immediately understood what the man meant. She turned over and lay on the seat, raising her butt high: "Then come on...please enjoy my back garden..."

The man stared intently at Mina's buttocks. Her vagina had not yet been closed, and the pink flesh walls could be vaguely seen, as well as the white turbid semen that was constantly flowing out. "What a beauty..." The man reached out and slapped Mina on the buttocks with emotion, causing her to scream.

"Moan..." the man ordered. He held Mina's waist and slowly advanced. The front end of his cock separated the pink anus and gradually sank into it. "Ah...Sir...slower..." Mina raised her head and gasped, feeling a strange pleasure from the thick foreign object invading her anus.

The man ignored Mina's pleas. He grabbed Mina's waist and pushed hard, inserting the entire penis into Mina's anus. "Oh..." Mina whispered in a daze. She felt that part of her body was stretched to the limit, and the man's penis jumped up and down in her body, bringing waves of tingling pleasure.

The man began to thrust rapidly. His penis was tightly wrapped by Mina's ass, and every inch of skin was rubbing, causing an extreme sense of comfort. "It feels so fucking good...you little devil..." the man growled and sped up, hitting Mina's G-spot with every penetration, causing her to scream.

"Ah...don't...too deep...sir..." Mina cried, the pain and pleasure coming from her anus made her almost lose her mind. The man doesn't care about so much, he just wants to indulge in Mina. His big hands pinched Mina's breasts, kneading them into various shapes, and pinched the sensitive nipples with his fingertips.

"Moan louder...I'm going to fuck you out..." The man gasped, his penis moving in and out of Mina's body quickly.

"Oh...Sir...I can't survive...I'm going to be broken..." Mina burst into tears. She felt that her lower body was completely out of control, and streams of juice could not stop pouring out of her vagina.

"Then let me see how wild you can be..." The man bit Mina's shoulder viciously, and his penis hit the deepest part, and then erupted again amidst Mina's high-pitched moans. White turbid semen spurted out and poured into Mina's rectum, mixing with the previous semen, making the entire anus look even muddier.

"It feels so fucking good...you are such a natural born slut..." The man pulled out his penis, covered Mina's buttocks with one hand, turned her over and pressed her on the seat, and once again buried his head in her Chest biting and sucking...

Mina looked at the man in front of her who was crazy about her with joy. She understood that as long as she could make him cum more often, she would get higher rewards.

"Do you still want it... Are you satisfied with Mina's service... Do you still want more?” Mina’s teasing is so effective that the men’s cock starts to rise again. "You little evil..." the man growled. He grabbed Mina's hands and held them above her head. Then he lowered his head and kissed Mina's red lips hard.

Mina responded to the kiss passionately, her tongue protruding into the man's mouth and entangled with his. At the same time, she felt a hot thing squeeze into her body, slowly but surely moving deeper.

" Ah ... Sir ... you are so amazing ..." Mina gasped repeatedly. She felt that the desire in her body was completely ignited, and her whole body seemed to be in cloud 9, bumping up and down with the man's movements.

The man pumped faster and faster, and his penis was tightly wrapped by Mina's tight vagina, bringing unprecedented pleasure. " Fuck ... you're driving me crazy ..." the man cursed in a low voice. He grabbed Mina 's slender waist and pushed hard ..." Mina pretended to be helpless and moaned. In fact, she felt unprecedented Relief.

The man gasped and sped up, and every thrust hit Mina's deepest core, causing a throbbing sensation. " It feels so good ..." Mina swayed obliviously, her breasts rising and falling as if they were two active volcanoes waiting to be conquered.

The man became even more excited when he saw Mina. He grabbed Mina's breasts hard and rubbed and pressed her nipples with his thumbs, causing a burst of electricity to pass through her body. " Ah ... Sir ... harder ... deeper ..." Mina twisted her body to meet the man's movements. She felt that her desire had reached the limit, and she longed for a more violent impact.

The man's scalp was numb from the stimulation of Mina's words and movements. He growled, held Mina's slim waist with both hands, and pushed his penis deep. "Oh...it's too deep..." Mina raised her head and gasped. Her eyes were blurred, as if she had lost consciousness.

The man pumped faster and faster, and his glans kept hitting Mina's cervix, causing waves of spasms." Call me husband ... you slut ..." The man bit Mina 's ear, his hoarse voice filled with indescribable temptation.

" Husband ... " Mina responded unconsciously. Her body was completely dominated, and she could only passively withstand the man's attack.

The man felt Mina 's body tighten suddenly, followed by a violent tremor. His penis was tightly twisted, almost suffocating.

" Ah...I'm going to cum..." the man growled, his penis buried deeply into Mina's body, spurting out stream after stream of hot heat inside. "Husband..." Mina also reached climax. She hugged the man tightly, and their bodies softened after a spasm.

The man gently stroked Mina's sweaty back and whispered, " You are mine for the rest of the flight. " Mina raised her head and smiled sweetly at the man. She responded softly: "Yes, husband..."

The man stared at Mina in front of him. Although the stewardess uniform she was wearing was already messy, the contrast between chaos and order gave people a very impactful sense of beauty.

Mina also noticed the man's gaze. She deliberately shook her body, revealing the snow-white skin under her clothes and a faint red mark. "Sir..." Mina blinked and called softly, as if teasing something.

The man felt that the thing in his body was tending to rise again, and he sighed. This woman was simply a natural succubus, who could always easily arouse his desire.

"What are we going to do now..." Mina tilted her head and looked at the man, looking innocent, but her eyes were so coquettish that her heart beat faster.

The man couldn't help but leaned down, and his lips fell on Mina's forehead, nose, and lips, licking all the way down, and finally took a hard red fruit in his mouth and sucked hard. "Oh..." Mina raised her head and hummed. She put her arms around the man's neck and offered her lips and tongue.

The man growled and deepened the kiss. His big hands slipped under Mina's skirt, covering her smooth thighs, and gradually explored upwards...

"Well...Husband..." Mina's murmurs came intermittently. She felt that she was about to be ignited again, and that primitive desire was taking over her reason little by little...

Mina knew exactly what she had to do - there was only the last moment before the plane landed, and she had to seize this last opportunity to drain the man in front of her. So, Mina kept whispering "husband". She twisted her body and rubbed the man's lower body, trying to arouse his interest.

" Husband ... I want more ..." Mina said coquettishly, her fingers slipped under the man's nightgown, grabbed the half-hard penis and started to play with it.

The man felt that he was about to lose control, but he still couldn't bear to stop. Mina's techniques are proficient and full of skills. She seems to be born with all this, and people can't help but indulge in it.

" You goblin ..." the man gasped and pushed Mina down on the seat again. His tongue swept across Mina 's bare shoulders, leaving a trail of glistening saliva.

" As long as my husband likes it ..." Mina chuckled. She put her arms around the man's neck and pulled him to cover her again.

The man buried his head in Mina 's chest and sucked her nipples hard. At the same time, he raised his buttocks and pressed against Mina 's private parts, rubbing them slightly.

"Oh..." Mina felt a numbing pleasure spread from her lower body. She couldn't help but raise her head and moan in response to the man's sucking. " Baby ... you are so sweet ..." The man's hoarse voice sounded extremely aggressive. He pulled open Mina 's dress without any explanation and bit into a bud.

"Husband..." Mina sighed softly and opened her legs to facilitate the man's further invasion. The man unhooked Mina's bra, and a pair of proud jade rabbits popped out. The man eagerly lowered his head, took one of the nipples into his mouth, and teased it with the tip of his tongue, causing Mina to gasp.

" Ah ... it feels so comfortable ... honey ... push harder ..." Mina twisted her body, her hand kept touching the man's penis and began to stroke it gently. The man felt the heat gradually rising in his lower body, and his breathing became heavier, but he still did not forget to take care of Mina's two-point red cherry in his mouth, sucking and licking it, making a "tsk tsk" sound.

"Husband... I can't bear it anymore... Come in..." Mina begged softly, her legs automatically parted, inviting the man to enter. The man finally let go of Mina 's breasts. He put his hands on Mina 's waist, then slowly moved forward, and slowly inserted his huge penis into Mina 's body.

" Ah!" Mina raised her head and gasped. The depths of her body were immediately filled, and an electric-like pleasure coursed through her limbs.

The man began to pump slowly, going all the way in every stroke, hitting the deepest part of Mina. " Honey ... come on ... harder ..." Mina urged, feeling like she was about to melt into the waves of pleasure.

The man obeyed the order and sped up. His penis quickly moved in and out of Mina's body, making waves of water and sluggish sounds. " Baby, you're so tight ... it's driving me crazy ..." the man gasped, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

When Mina heard the man's words, a proud smile appeared on her lips. She adjusted her breathing, and then rhythmically tightened her body cavity, tightly wrapping the man's hot desire.

"Oh!" The man felt that he was being tightly clamped, and Mina's pussy seemed to be alive, squirming and squeezing, trying to squeeze out all the essence in his body.

"Baby...you're going to drain me..." the man roared, his speed getting faster and faster, hitting Mina's deepest part hard every time, causing waves of convulsions.

Mina 's breathing became more and more rapid. She clutched the sheets tightly, and her whole body was shaking uncontrollably.

"Honey... cum together... I'm cumming..." Mina shouted in a daze, her body suddenly tightened again, and a strong suction force hit the man's clone. "Oh...fuck!" The man could no longer control himself. He growled and poured all of himself into Mina's body.

The two of them froze up while climaxing and could not recover for a long time.

After a while, the man withdrew from Mina's body, bringing out a large amount of viscous bodily fluids. Mina was lying on her back on the seat, the lingering feeling had not dissipated, her eyes were a little confused, and she seemed to be in some kind of passionate state.

The man leaned down, gently stroked Mina 's hair, and said with a low smile: " Baby, you are truly a stunner. " Mina narrowed her eyes and showed a charming smile: "Husband, this is just the beginning." "

For the next period, Mina was like an insatiable demon, constantly squeezing the desire out of the man's body. They tried various positions and methods, reaching the peak again and again.

It wasn't until the plane started to land that Mina stopped this wild game. She quickly arranged her clothes to cover up the mess on her body. Then, Mina took out a large check from the man's wallet, smiled kindly at him, and left his first-class cabin.

When Mina returned to work, she looked as elegant and capable as ever. No one could have imagined that this dignified stewardess had just staged such a ridiculous love affair in a private cabin.

Mina greeted the other passengers with a smile on her face. She stuffed the check left by the man into her pocket and silently planned her spending plan for tonight.

The drained man was still unconscious on the first-class bed. His body was covered with hickeys and fingerprints, and a pool of thick bodily fluids wet the sheets.

It seems that this journey will become a very unforgettable memory for him.

[zepskies]

Imagine: Soldier Boy Getting Jealous...

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader || (past Frenchie x F. Reader)

Request: Soldier Boy finding out you had something with Frenchie, years before meeting him.

Word Count: 1K

Tags/Warnings: Jealousy lol (With a hint of spice.~)

Imagine: Ben getting jealous over your past relationship with Frenchie.

He doesn't care.

Because he doesn't care...

When you sit him down in the living room of your apartment and tell him you used to date Frenchie, Ben's reaction is mild at best. To the point where it kind of concerns you.

Ben raises a brow and gives a deep hum.

"Oh, really? That limey bastard?" he remarks. He takes a sip from his tumbler of whiskey. You give him a weary sigh.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't call him that," you reply. You and Frenchie are still friends. Your "entanglement" was years ago, before he even started hooking up with Cherie.

But you still want to be honest with Ben. You two have been dating for a few months now, and it's actually serious. No one's more surprised than you by that fact, but...you're happy. You think he is too.

At your response, however, Ben rolls his eyes and continues drinking. You tilt your head in suspicion.

"So you're chill?" you ask.

"Chill?" he quirks a brow at you. Your lips form a smile.

"You're okay with this," you amend.

Ben shrugs and turns on the TV, trying to navigate the streaming apps. You’d put him on to Game of Thrones. Even three seasons into his binge-watching, he doesn’t want to admit that he’s hooked.

"You're fucking a real man now, sweetheart. No skin off my nose," he says.

It's your turn to roll your eyes, despite a warm blush stinging your cheeks.

But the next time you all go out together to a club in the city, Ben watches you leave his side to say hello to your friends: Annie, Hughie, Frenchie and Kimiko. Frenchie takes your hands and makes a show of looking you up and down.

"Well, well. She shoots to kill tonight, eh?" Frenchie says. When he leans in to kiss your cheek, he whispers, "Ah, black leather. My old favorite."

"Stop," you warn with a smile, hitting his shoulder. He's absolutely shameless. "You're too much."

"And you are just enough," Frenchie returns. He whistles playfully as he raises your hand to twirl you around, showing you off in your little black dress and red-bottom heels.

You laugh, but you bump into Ben when you twirl for the second time. Your laughter cuts off abruptly when you see the flinty look on his face, though he's clinging to stoicism.

Frenchie’s eyes widen as he seems to realize the very real danger he's put himself in. He wisely lets go of your hand, pivots on his heel and goes with Kimiko over to the dance floor.

Meanwhile, you move back to Ben's side and try to placate him by looping your arm through his. He responds by wrapping a strong arm around your waist. His eyes bore into the back of Frenchie's head so hard, you almost expect laser beams to come out of them.

"Come on, let's get a drink," you suggest, patting a hand on Ben's chest. He looks good tonight in a burgundy button-down shirt tucked into his slacks.

Ben wordlessly agrees to your suggestion, but he grabs a stool and drags it close to his own seat. He does help you by the hand onto the stool, but then his arm wraps back around your waist, pulling you in snugly, possessively to his side.

You try not to smile in amusement. It's a caveman's display, but at least you know the root cause this time.

...Okay, maybe you feel the tiniest bit complicit, but really, you think Ben's overreacting.

After he flags down the bartender and orders his bourbon and your martini, you tap against his bearded cheek, earning his green-eyed attention.

"You okay?" you ask knowingly.

"Just fine," he deadpans.

"Oh, well that's convincing," you say with a smile. "Do I need to remind you that I'm here with you?"

Ben's gaze hardens. "I don't know. You were pretty happy to let that French whore put his fucking hands all over you—"

"All right. Calm down, Rambo," you say, trying not to laugh as you rub his arm. "Sorry, baby. That's just how we've always cut up. It doesn't mean anything."

Ben scoffs in derision. "Yeah? Fuck if I care."

You frown at that, sparking with annoyance. Somehow, now you actually do feel guilty. You and Frenchie have bounced off each other like Derek and Garcia for so long, you didn't even realize how it might look...or how it might make your boyfriend feel.

Because even with all that ego and injured pride, you have a feeling there's a real sting of hurt under there.

"Hey," you say, squeezing Ben's wrist. His gaze remains stubbornly on the bartender making your drinks.

You decide to take matters more firmly into your hands.

Reaching up for his chin, you guide Ben's face toward yours and press a kiss to his lips. It's slow at first, but it soon gains in passion. His teeth graze your bottom lip, before his tongue demands entrance into your mouth with claiming purpose.

It elicits a hint of a moan from you, your fingers clenching in his hair. Your nails drag against his scalp, almost making him shudder.

Your supple lips eventually pull away from his, nice and slow.

"Your hands are the only hands I care about touching me," you say. Your expression twinkles with mischief as you toy with the zipper on the side of your dress.

"As a matter of fact, I need your help," you add. "This zipper keeps catching on something. I think it's stuck."

Quite possibly because someone got a little handsy in the cab on the way here.

Ben smirks, though he claims your lips in one more slightly rough kiss before he answers.

"Well that is a problem," he says. His eyes roam down your face, taking in your thoroughly kissed lips, and the cleavage peeking out at him from the neckline of your dress.

"Think I can give you a hand," he says, as his actual hand slips down your leg. His fingers brush along the inside of your thigh, tingling across your skin. His half-lidded gaze once again meeting yours. "Better take you out back and fix you up."

You laugh, despite the return of your blush. You cling to his shoulders, while his fingers burn a tantalizing trail upwards.

"Oh, yeah. Save me, Soldier Boy!" you tease.

He snorts in response, but he helps guide you out of your seat.

Moments later, all your friends find at the bar are two forgotten drinks and a couple of empty stools.

AN: Ah, jealous Ben. It's fun to imagine. 😂

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

SB Tag List (Part 1):

@melancholictearz @spnwoman @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @anticxrrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky

@teehxk @midnightmadwoman @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem

@deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees

@xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley

@sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @skyesthebomb @this-is-me19

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @emily-winchester @tearsfortheyouth @solo-pitstop-vibes @dope-trope-105

@liuope @beautyvaliant @xxlaynaxx @chernayawidow @tmb510

@iamsapphine @roseblue373 @lacilou @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waynes-multiverse

[sweetbans29]

Power Couple - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: Life during Caitlin and your rookie season - Based on THIS request

Warnings: None that I can think of :) just some fluff for ya

Word Count: 4.8k

Power Couple Part 2

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: I don't know much about soccer but I tried my best! I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think 🤍

The first time Caitlin knew you were something special was in high school. The two of you faced off on the soccer field during a game. This was when Caitlin still played soccer and was figuring out if she wanted to pursue soccer in college or basketball. She ended up going with the latter and was thankful for it because you were a force to be reckoned with.

You had nearly a perfect game. Your team came out on top but no thanks to a certain player on the other team. When the game was over and your team was going around saying 'good game' to the other team you pulled no.23 in.

"You almost gave me a run for my money, keep it up babe," you say as you bring her into a half hug so you can whisper it in her ear. You give her hip a little pinch before shaking hands with her coaches.

Caitlin is left speechless. She goes back into the locker room - star-struck and a little confused. She has never really been interested in anyone and has never really had the time to date but you had her wanting more. That night, she did some IG stalking and found you. She spent the whole evening looking through your page and all your tags. She went through all your teammate's photos and even searched you as a tag. She fell asleep contemplating if she was going to follow you. It seemed silly that she was nervous to press a button.

She dreamt of you that night. Had a dream that the two of you played D1 soccer in college together and were the 'it' couple of school (not like that is really a thing in college but a girl can dream). When she woke up in the morning she looked at her phone to see what time it was. She shot up when she saw the notification that you had followed her. She couldn't believe a single notification had her feeling like a little school girl but there she was.

When you woke up the next morning, you saw that Caitlin had requested to follow you back.

From there - she was the one to message you first, talking about how amazing you had played and how impressed she was. You were hardcore flattered. The two of you didn't talk much after but you both followed each other in your respective sports. You learned that Caitlin dropped soccer for basketball which you thought was a shame - she could have easily gone D1. But watching her on the court was something else. Her IQ on the court was something you had never seen before.

It was during your senior year of high school that the two of you started going to watch each other play. At least when you both had the time, which wasn't super frequent. It was merely a taste of what the two of you were about to experience in college. Both of you had signed to become Hawkeyees. Caitlin for basketball and you for soccer.

It was your freshman year of college that the two of you started hanging out. You had become pretty close friends that always acted like more. Your friendship took a turn one night when you were taking care of a very sick Caitlin.

"I don't want soup," she pouts and turns away from the spoonful of soup you are trying to feed her.

"Caitlin you need to eat," you say as you grab her shoulder to hold her down from rolling over. She tries to fight you but is extremely weak due to the flu overtaking her body. She whines when she can't turn away from you and lays there in defeat. She looks like she is on the verge of tears.

"Hey, hey," you say as you rub her arm. "Shhh it's okay love." Your hand comes up to her face and caresses it. She looks up at you with such tired eyes. "I know you don't want to but you haven't eaten in days and it's scaring me."

Her eyes stare into yours as she takes your hand holding the spoon and guides it to her mouth. She takes a little bite that looks painful to swallow but she does. You kiss her forehead and continue to feed her the broth.

Later that night you fell asleep next to her bed, you took the floor to not get sick yourself. Caitlin woke up and saw you sleeping on the floor. She turned to face you and looked down, she loved watching you sleep. You always looked so peaceful which is so different than watching you on the field. She reached down and brushed a piece of hair from your face and whispered 'I love you'. Little did she know that her touch had stirred you awake and you heard her little confession.

It was shortly after Caitlin got better that you two started dating. You went public on your three-month anniversary, which was also when you signed for the USWNT. It had been a dream of yours since you were a little girl.

You stopped playing for Iowa once you joined the women’s team but that didn’t stop you from going to support your girl for her games whenever you could. Caitlin did the same whenever you had games close by and the two of you sort of became known supporters at each other's games. It was kind of cute how people would get excited to see Caitlin coming to your games and vice versa. Someone had even started an amateur fan account for the two of you, nothing ever came from it but it would pop up on your feed every now and again. It was mostly posts of you wearing Caitlin's jerseys at her games and Caitlin wearing your jerseys to support your games.

There was one game you went to support Caitlin and had her fans come up and ask for pictures with you. It was cute how her fans were so supportive of the two of you. But with support, also comes hate.

As the years go on, your relationship with Caitlin grows. By the time the two of you are entering your senior year of college, you have pretty much been through it all. The ups and downs have been very high and very low but you wouldn't have changed any of it. It was because of those times that you know as you begin your careers, you and Caitlin will make it.

It is during your last year that you get drafted as the first pick to the Chicago Red Stars. Caitlin and your family are there for the draft and are over the moon for you to be playing closer to home. When your name is announced - you hug your family first then make your way to Caitlin. She engulfs you in a hug and kisses the top of your head. You look up and give her a little kiss before heading up to shake the announcer's hand and head off to a few interviews.

Being drafted before the school year ended meant that you would have to finish your senior year online. It wasn't your favorite but you were determined to get your degree, even though everyone was saying you no longer needed it. It was something you felt like you needed to accomplish.

This also meant that you would be moving to Chicago to start training. At no point was there ever any tension in your relationship with Catilin when it came to moving. The two of you had a conversation early on about what your life goals were which included playing pro for your respective sports. The two of you talked through what that would look like and how you would prioritize one another while pursuing each of your dreams. The way you two were on the same page only solidified your relationship even more.

As Caitlin and the Hawkeyes were heading into March Madness - you weren't able to make it to the Sweet Sixteen or the Elite Eight. That didn't stop you from watching your girl dominate on the court - breaking records and doing what she does best (shooting logo threes).

You were bummed that you couldn't be there when she broke the NCAA scoring record but one of your teammates got a video of you watching your girlfriend make history and posted it. It gained a lot of traction and was the first time they featured your relationship on any sports network.

When you found out Caitlin was heading back to the final four - you made it a priority to head to Clevland to watch. You were able to pull some strings and get courtside seats to watch your girl front row. You watched them play UConn and were stressed the entire game. This was some of the best defense you have seen a team put up against Cait. They came to fight.

Throughout the game you had people come up to you and ask for autographs and photos. It was neat to see it was a variety of both Caitlin's fans who knew you as her girlfriend and also your fans who have watched you since you started with the USNWT.

When the Hawkeyes pulled through and took the win - everyone flooded the court, making it almost impossible to find Caitlin. It was actually a handful of people in the crowd who helped you locate her. When you saw her, you ran straight up to her and wrapped your legs and arms around her. You knew what this game stood for - it was redemption from the previous year.

"THAT WAS AMAZING BABE!" You yelled right in her ear.

She laughs and spins you around, "I am so glad you were able to make it." She inhales you and is reminded of how much she misses you. "Do you have to leave?" She asks, only half-heartedly wanting the answer.

"Well knowing you were going to win this game and Coach not needing me back until Monday, I am staying to the final," you say hoping down from your girl but keeping your arms around her neck.

Caitlin brings you back into her and just holds you. As thankful as she is that her team just won, she is even more grateful that she gets to spend some time with you. Cait and the team only had a light practice the day in between games. The rest of the day was to be used as a rest day with the exception of a team dinner. You spent the day in Caitlin’s hotel room. Most of the time the two of you spent catching up on life and how each of you has been doing. She talked about her feelings about how she contemplated staying at Iowa for a fifth year versus going to the WNBA draft. The two of you had talked a little over the phone about it but there was something about having you there that really opened her up about all the thoughts she truly had. You sat there and listened to her talk - it was one of your favorite things to do. You could sit with her forever and be content.

She loved talking to you because you never pushed her in one direction or another, but would rather genuinely listen to her. And when she would pause to gather her thoughts, you would ask her questions to help her figure out what she wants to do and not what the media expects of her. You knew the last thing that she needed was someone else telling her what she should and shouldn't be doing.

When it was your turn to unpack - you talked about the shift from playing on the women's national team to a city team. It was a shift but one that was really nice. It felt like you were finally able to settle down somewhere and you were excited for her to feel the same and hopefully a little closer to yourself than she was at now. You missed being around her.

You continued to talk about how her team has been super welcoming and that you all instantly fit into the team. That was something Caitlin knew you were worried about signing with the Chicago Red Stars. She hasn't been out to one of your games yet but is hoping to before she goes into training.

That night you joined Caitlin at the team dinner. All the girls were happy to see you. It was great getting to spend some time with everyone - with Cait being on the team, you had become really close to some of her friends. Kate and Gabby were especially happy to see you.

You went to watch the championship game the next day - sitting right behind the team's bench. You watched your girl put up 18 points in the first quarter - breaking another record in her last collegiate game.

As the game progressed you saw how difficult it was for the Hawkeyes to put up points against the best defensive team in the league. But they put up a fight.

In the final quarter, you could see the hope in the team's eyes slip away as the momentum SC was gaining kept going. When there were only a few minutes left, you saw the shift in Caitlin's demeanor and knew that she was beginning to accept defeat.

At the one-minute mark, Coach Bluder pulled her starting seniors and allowed some of the other girls take the court. As Caitlin was walking off, she alongside Kate and Gabby went down the line of coaches and gave them each a hug. When she sat down on the bench, you couldn't see her face but knew she was struggling to keep it together. If there was anyone else in this stadium that knew how much she wanted this win, it was you.

It didn't come as a surprise when Caitlin sat right in front of you. You leaned down to her and placed your hand on her arm. No words needed, just a sign to show her that you were there. Her hand comes up and rests on yours, giving a little squeeze.

She spent that night in your arms. You tried to get her out of her head but weren't doing a great job of it. All Caitlin really wanted was to be held by you and that is exactly what you did.

You flew back to Chicago that Monday - feeling sad you were leaving Caitlin but know you left her in good hands with Kate and Gabby. Before leaving - Caitlin booked a flight to come out to watch you play in Chicago. You thought it would be a good distraction as well as nice to have her back in the stands.

When it was game day, you took the field for warm-ups, occasionally looking towards the stands to see where your girlfriend was watching from. It wasn't an easy task but you looked in all the typical places she would watch from when you were playing for the USWNT. When you couldn't find her in the crowd, you got worried that she wasn't able to make it. When you got back to the bench, you did a quick scan when one of the other girls came up to you and pointed to one of the boxes. Looking over - you saw Caitlin in the middle box talking with your team manager.

A smile makes its way to your face as you see them talking and laughing. Your team manager was kind of a hard-ass which would have you worried if it was anyone other than Caitlin. But knowing your girl, she could start a conversation with anyone.

Throughout the game, you would glance up to the box. You were met with the sight of either Caitlin watching intently or her talking with whoever else was there. You noticed one of the times she was talking to one of your teammate's wives. It was such a comfort to have her there.

At the end of the game, your team pulled through and took the dub against the Kansas City Current. As the team was celebrating you felt someone come up from behind you and spin you around. Knowing immediately who it was, when you were put down - you turned and jumped into Cailtin's arms.

"Proud of you babe," she says as she embraces you yet again.

"I am glad you were able to come," you say and grab her hand to introduce her to a few of your teammates.

The next day you see an article out about Caitlin coming to your game. It wasn't the first but it was the first that you saw circulate social media to this extent. It caught like wildfire and the next thing to know your following on IG went from 20k to 50k.

You didn't think much of it considering you don't follow the media really at all but thought it was cute and shot it over to Caitlin. She thought it was funny and criticized the photo they chose of the two of you.

The next thing you know, you are in New York getting ready for the WNBA draft. You are sharing a room with Caitlin and just sit in awe as your girl is getting dressed. She is the first to sport Prada for the WNBA and she is looking amazing.

Once she is dressed, the two of you head down. There are a few photos snapped of Caitlin on the way down, you follow closely behind her, trying to not get in the frame. That proves hard to do as she refuses to let go of your hand. At one point she looks back and gives your hand a little kiss before heading into the elevator to head down to the orange carpet.

The night went by in a blur. Caitlin is the first pick and is headed to the Indiana Fever. It was what both of you were prepared for and have honestly started planning for as well. You two started talking about how it would be so nice to only be an hour's plane ride away from each other (a 3-hour drive if needed).

Her crew celebrates by going out for some drinks and food. It was a fun night out with the girls not only celebrating Caitlin but also Kate who was drafted into the Aces. The two of you end the night back in the hotel.

The next morning, you started to get notifications and messages about the media calling you and Caitlin the new 'Power Couple' of the sports world. Before you could open anything on your phone, Caitlin was showing you hers. You looked at the post that Ovvertimewbb posted. It was the photo of Caitlin kissing your hand right before heading into the elevator with a caption on how you two are the couple to watch in and out of the game.

"So they are calling us the couple to watch," you say as you hand the phone back to Cait.

"Looks like it," she says with a laugh. "I have no idea what that means."

"Honestly, neither do I but we will find out," you say as you lean over to give her a kiss.

Throughout both of your rookie seasons, the media watches you both closely. You because you have been on fire, consistently playing record-breaking games and carrying your team to victory, and Caitlin because she is changing the game.

Now that the two of you are closer, going to support each other has become much easier. Once Caitlin started in Indiana, she was at almost every one of your games - almost always supporting you from your manager's booth. You always joke with her that your manager loves her more than they do you. Every now and again she would be standing fieldside, out of the way of course. The media tore up any time she was standing on the field or seen talking with your manager. It would always be something about how Caitlin is such a great girlfriend coming out to support you. Or it would be how your GM has found a new person to watch their team with, having a picture attached with your GM and Caitlin laughing about something.

The posts and articles went both ways. You went to support Caitlin whenever you could which then put you in the spotlight. It was unexpected to both of you how much the media ate up your support for each other.

It was when you were watching an interview that Caitlin was in that it began to click.

"Caitlin - you are projected to be rookie of the year, how do you feel about that?" The interviewer asks.

"I think it's pretty awesome," she responds with a smile. "Just like the work I have put in during my college career to get here, I have put in the work this season to be up for rookie of the year."

"Well, it is quite impressive, if I must say," the interviewer compliments your girlfriend. "But what is also impressive is that your girlfriend is also up for rookie of the year."

Caitlin just smiles and nods. She could say a lot (she will rarely brag about herself but when it came to you, she could talk up a storm) but just sits and nods. To everyone watching - it was a proud girlfriend moment.

"Seeing you go and support each other at games, getting the posts of your post-game meals with one another, and all the talk about how each of your teammates has become great friends with you and her, you have become the ultimate power couple in the sports world." Caitlin doesn't blush easily but she’s blushing now. "How has becoming this power couple affected your relationship?"

"Well it is kind of funny - neither Y/n nor I have really seen much of what has been going on in the media with any of it," Caitlin says.

It was true - the two of you tried your best to stay out of looking into the media like that. You knew it wouldn't affect your relationship in the slightest but never really cared for what other people said about the two of you. Outside of supporting each other during games the two of you led a pretty private relationship.

"Well let me show you a slim snippet of what the fans are saying," the interviewer says as they start flashing photos of you on the screen. "There are endless fan edits of the two of you while you are watching each other games. What really got me was finding a fan account that has been following the two of you since your college years."

Pictures of the two of you from their account started flying across the screen. Photos going back in time - it was a neat way to reminisce on the past and how far you have come.

At the end of the slideshow is a picture from when you played in your final home game for your high school - senior night. It was a picture of you and two other girls heading to the captain's meeting in the middle of the field. In the photo, it is you and your co-captains looking down but if you looked over to the crowd - there is Caitlin, front row with some of her friends there to watch you play.

Caitlin remembers the moment as if it was yesterday. She debated going to that game for weeks before it happened. She didn't tell you she was coming to your senior night but brought you flowers and she gave them to you afterward. That was the night that you had Caitlin falling even harder than before - getting so excited when you saw her. Causing her heart to leap out of its chest when you dropped all of your stuff to pick her up and spin he around. Her stomach filled with butterflies and her cheeks turned a deep pink - the first time you made her blush.

"Yep, that's me," she says with a laugh, turning even more red than before. "You could say we were fans of each other long before we started dating.'

"Well, that is the cutest thing!" The interviewer says with such excitement. "We are all rooting for the two of you and can't wait to watch you both as you progress in your careers."

Later that night, you call Cait. She picks up the phone immediately.

"I know, I know," she says, already knowing what you are going to say.

"You are too cute when you blush," you say with a little laugh.

"Ugh stop babe," she says laughing as well. "Did you hear when they called us the ultimate power couple?"

"I did," you say full-on laughing now. "It is crazy to see how many people are invested in our relationship."

You hear her hum in agreement, but she doesn't say anything.

"Hey babe, is everything okay?" You ask, worried that this is all starting to get to her. You know Caitlin doesn't follow the media like that but you wouldn't blame her if she fell down the rabbit hole after that interview. I mean, you did.

It wasn't intentional but after you watch the interview, curiosity got the best of you and you started looking at some accounts. Most of it was sweet - pictures and comments of how the world is cheering you on but with being in the spotlight more, there were also more people who used the platform to tear you down. It really didn't affect either of you - at least when people talked about yourselves. But you knew when people start talking bad about you on her posts, she gets caught up in her head about how hateful the world can be.

It takes her a minute but after what feels like a lifetime, she responds.

"You are the most incredible woman I have ever had the privilege of knowing," she starts, causing your heart to swell. She begins to stumble on her words. "I - just thank you." She says. "Thank you for being so amazing not only to me but to the world. I can't wait until you begin your off-season and move here with me so we can finally be together. Then when you go back, and I am off, I will come and live with you and everything will be right in the world and we will get a dog and start planning our wedding and both be living out our dreams."

She pauses and you take a sharp inhale. The two of you haven't really talked about marriage - if you were being honest, you had no idea that was even on Caitlin's radar. It was on yours but you never wanted to rush her.

"What was that last part?" You ask slowly.

"Us living out our dreams?" She asks, knowing it is not what you are talking about.

"No right before that..." you say as it feels like time has stopped. The only other time you have felt this with her is the first game you played against her. She had been one of the only other players who could keep up to you and you let her know that after. Whispering the compliment in her ear and watching her react to your touch had stopped time for you.

"Start planning our wedding...?" Caitlin says extremely slowly. You are hooked on every single word she says as she repeats that.

"Caitlin Clark, are you asking me to marry you?" You say jokingly but also dripping with genuine interest.

"You are just going to have to wait to find out," she says and you can hear the smirk that has grown on her face.

Little did you know that Caitlin already had the ring. She knew she was going to marry you after you picked her up and spun her around on your senior night. It only solidified when the two of you started dating in college and were there to support one another during your sporting events but also just with life in general. Having you by her side wasn't an option. You pushed her to be better than she could have ever imagined. You brought her out of her head when no one else could. You let her be herself unapologetically and she couldn't imagine a more perfect person.

"Well just know, if you get down on one knee at either of our award ceremonies, I will say no." You say, trying to play it cool when your heart is beating faster than it does on the field.

Caitlin laughs and you join in, longing for the days when you can have these conversations face to face.

AN: I hope this does the request justice. Please let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for the love and support 🤍

[green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle]

I don't want to be alone tonight...

(very fluffy smut under cut, body worship, bj)

You felt slightly anxious standing in front of Aventurine's door. Not that you weren't used to visiting him, you knew his bed as well as your own. For the past two years you have been coming here twice a week, except days when Aventurine was out on a mission.

It started as a simple deal between two lonely people, something to fill the void in your lives, to break the silence of the darkest nights, the kind of nights that bring memories so livid you can almost feel everything like it happend yesterday.

It was easier to survive them when you had a hand to hold and passion to distract yourself with. It was never just sex. There was a deep, raw sense of comfort in it, melancholic and silent. You barely spoke during those meetings, there was nothing to confess when you laid down with all your wounds wide open anyways.

Today it was different. He contacted you on the day usually not reserved for your meetings, at 4 am. Even through the phone you could hear how tired he was, how weak he felt tonight. With heart filled with worry you rushed to his place. As soon as you ringed the bell the door opened, revealing young man with dark circles under his eyes.

You expected him to flirt with you or joke around like he always did, but none of that happend. He took you by the hand and guided you to his bed with no words.

You glanced outside his bedroom window, taking in breathtaking sight of skyscrapers lit up with neon lights that never dimmed but couldn't outshine the stars above them. You looked up to constellations with hope, finding solace in vastness of the universe. Among all it's planets there must be a place where even you could find peace one day.

- Look at me. - Aventurine whispered. You obeyed, alarmed by his serious tone. He seemed so different tonight. - I don't really like it when you get so nostalgic. It feels like you escape somewhere inside yourself, to a place where I can't follow. I am left wondering if you are really by my side or is it just your body here.

- I am right here with you. - you reassured him, moving your body closer to his. - As mindfull as one can be at such early hour.

He didn't watch your every move like he used to. Normally his eyes didn't leave you when you were in his personal space, always analysing your intentions and predicting your next step. Well, maybe he was just too tired for games today. It wouldn't be the first time this megacorp he worked for sucked the soul out of him. But it's the first time he seemed so vulnerable in front of you. Knowing him this could be the last time as well.

You decided to enjoy the moment while it lasts and gently pushed him on the pillows. His golden locks spread over the silk, framing his face in straight up angelic way. You run your fingers through his hair, and he didn't object, so you bend down to kiss him. His lips were warm and welcoming. He opened his mouth, allowing you to slide your tongue in as much as you wanted to.

You realised he let you control the situation. He never did that before, even when you were on top of him he was the one to choose your pace despite his provocative words. You always respected his need to be the one in charge due to his past, you understood why he craves to decide what is happening with his body for once, so you just followed whatever he initiated. Why did it change? You weren't sure if you want to know judging by how defeated he looked tonight.

You kissed his clenched jaw, the tip of his nose, his forehead. Your fingers tenderly massaged his scalp. He exhaled loudly. Testing the waters you unbottoned his shirt a little, leaving another kiss on uncovered skin. Aventurine closed his eyes and stretched. Taking it as a good sign you undid the rest of his buttons so you could admire his toned but slim chest. This time he didn't even care if you pay attention to his scars, but once upon a time he only had you with lights turned down so you can't see them.

You licked a straight line from his collarbones, through the valley between his chest muscles and abs to his happy trail, just when you were about to pull his pants down he grabbed your hand.

- Why so fast, friend? - he purred seductively, taking off his shirt. Playful smirk returned to his face. - You aren't done here yet.

He sat up and pulled you into his lap to give you a kiss, put his hand on the back of your head and directed your face into his neck, right were his burned mark was.

You were shocked cause no matter how much he paraded this mark, in the past he tensed up when you touched anywhere near that spot. Afraid to spoil the moment you quickly recovered and kissed over the scar as gently as you could. His grip on your head loosened up completely, he slid his palm down your back and rubbed circles all over it. You embraced him as well, caressing his sides. You kissed over the scars littering his shoulder and arm, down to the knuckles of his hand. He pushed his long fingers lito your mouth and you licked and sucked on them obediently. Once he was satisfied with your display of affection he pulled them out and finally moved back to take his pants down.

With only his panties on, Aventurine sat on the verge of bed with spread legs. You immediately kneeled down at his feet and kissed up his thigh. He giggled softly, once again placing his hand on you head and caressing your hair. You went higher, kissing over his clothed semi-erection till it hardened fully, then up to his belly button and back down to his dick while getting his covered by saliva panties out of the way.

You left open mouthed kisses on sides of his dick before swirling your tongue over his tip and sucking on it. Whimpers of pleasure that got out of his throat encouraged you to take the rest of his member into your mouth. Saliva dropped down your chin while you hollowed your cheeks around him.

He came faster than you expected, releasing beautiful moan. You didn't even know he could sound like that, he always controlled his mouth in bed either moaning in obscene way to wrap you around his finger or keeping quiet to not show how weak he is for you. This sound was honest, not so loud but his voice broke a little, proving you did well for him. He collapsed on bed, but his eyes never left your body.

You undressed under his lustful gaze, letting your summer dress slip off and show your lacy underwear. You laid down next to him, on your left side, and he turned to face you. His agile hands quickly unraveled cords holding your bra and panties together. Aventurine pulled you close to himself and kissed you, tickling your sides. You melt into his strong embrace and brush his hair away from his face with your fingers. His hand reached down and massaged your cunt when his lips found your breasts and wraped around your nipple. You kissed his head and played with his hair when he was busy prepering you for what comes next.

- I can't wait anymore. - Aventurine broke the silence. - I need to be inside of you.

- I want to cum so badly, I need this. - you whined out climbing on top of him.

You pushed him inside of you, not letting yourself adjust fully before going up and down on it. His thick girth massaged and ruined your insides in the most delightful way. Sounds of wetness and skin slapping against skin turned you on so much, but quiet moans and heavy breathing of your lover were even better. Your legs felt weak at the sight of his blushed cheeks, eyes dark with desire and sweat driping down his perfect body.

You felt your orgasm approaching but you tired to hold it in so you can both cum at the same time. Aventurine saw right through you and pinched your clit fast, making you finish. You squirted over his abdomen, pushing him to his own release. You collapsed into his arms and he held you till you both calmed down.

- Thank you. I had a really hard day at work. - he sighed, holding you even closer.

- I figured this out. - you admitted. - I'm happy I could help you make this day at least a bit better.

-You sure did. - he chuckled. He looked you deep in your eyes with the most charming smile you could imagine. - Can I ask you for one little favour?

You raised your eyebrow at him.

- What kind of favour?

- You see, I have this big corporation party next week. Would you like to go there as my partner? Most people will bring their plus one. - he winked at you. - Don't worry about anything, I will buy you proper dress and introduce you to everybody.

- I guess I could give it a try. - you agreed hesitantly. Gambler instantly rewarded you with his brightest smile.

[sweetheartsofpanem]

Cowardice in a Button-Down Shirt

warnings: contains themes and descriptions of emotional abuse, verbal abuse, manipulation, witnessing domestic violence as a child, parental abandonment, childhood trauma, intimate partner abuse (non-physical), gaslighting, self-worth struggles, and references to sexual assault and coercion. there are also depictions of crying, grief, and intense emotional vulnerability.

pairing(s): Haymitch Abernathy x Female!Reader

word count: 6.36k

this story is deeply personal. it’s fiction, yes—but woven with real memories, real grief, and real healing. it was written on a hard day, born from years of being haunted by abandonment, abuse, and the aching need to be loved without condition. this was a story i needed to write for myself. a place to put the pain and wrap it in softness. if you’ve ever felt forgotten, unworthy, or too much to love—this is for you, too. you are not too much. you are not hard to love. you deserved better, and i hope you find your soft place to land.

please take care while reading.

if you need to stop or skip parts, that’s okay. your safety and comfort matter more than anything. this story is here to offer softness, not pain.

you are not alone. you are worthy of love and support.

resources:

• RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network)

www.rainn.org | 1-800-656-HOPE (4673)

24/7 confidential support for survivors of sexual violence.

• Crisis Text Line

text HOME to 741741

free 24/7 support for anyone in crisis, available in the U.S., U.K., and Canada.

• The Trevor Project (LGBTQ+ Youth Support)

www.thetrevorproject.org | 1-866-488-7386

24/7 support via phone, chat, or text.

• National Domestic Violence Hotline

www.thehotline.org | 1-800-799-SAFE (7233)

confidential support for anyone affected by abuse.

The room is quiet but not peaceful.

Haymitch's chest rises steady behind you, one arm slung lazily over your waist, calloused fingers resting against the soft curve of your stomach like they belong there. Like he knows how to hold you without making a big deal about it. The sheets are warm. His breathing is warm. But your mind feels cold.

You're not sure how long you've been staring at the wall. Long enough that the clock shifted from late night to early morning. Long enough for your thoughts to go from fuzzy static to something sharper. The math creeps in without your permission. Ten years since the night you saw your dad with someone who wasn't your mom.

Ten years since everything shifted in your house.

Eight years since they separated. Two years since he disappeared entirely.

Two years since he didn’t even have the dignity to tell you goodbye, just quietly stepped out of your life little by little.

Two years since he got remarried and stopped speaking to you like you were something he could outgrow.

You suck in a breath, but it snags somewhere in your throat. You try to be quiet about it. You're always quiet about it.

But then his fingers twitch against your stomach.

"Alright," Haymitch mumbles, voice rough with sleep and something like irritation, but not at you. Never at you. "You've been thinkin' so loud I could hear it echoing off the damn walls."

You don't say anything. You can't.

A beat of silence. Then his arm tightens around you, dragging you back a little more snugly against him.

"Sugar," he says, softer now, low and graveled and there, "don't make me play guessing games. I'm too old and too sober for that."

You swallow, hard. "It's nothing."

"Yeah," he snorts, nuzzling his nose against the back of your neck, "and I'm Miss Effie Trinket in heels and lipstick."

You huff out a weak laugh before your throat tightens again. "It's just... a dumb anniversary," you say finally, so quiet you're not even sure he hears.

But he does. Of course he does.

"You wanna tell me, or you want me to keep holdin' you like this and pretend I don't already know what kind of bastard he was?"

Your breath catches.

You don't answer right away.

Because he does know. Maybe not every twisted word your father ever threw at you. Maybe not the way it still echoes when you brush your teeth or try to pick out clothes or reach for love like it's something you're not sure you're allowed to have.

But Haymitch knows enough. Knows the look you get when the past sneaks up on you and digs its nails in. Knows how to read silence like it's a second language.

Still, you speak. Because part of you wants him to hold it with you, even if it's ugly.

"I was ten," you murmur. "When I caught him. With her. She was my mom's friend. It was mother's day. I told my mom and he made me feel like... like I ruined everything. Like I broke something that was fine before I opened my stupid mouth."

Haymitch's fingers curl just slightly against your skin. You can feel the tension roll through him, a quiet sort of fury he doesn't unleash-not at you.

"And then she stayed," you go on, voice smaller now, "but he hated me for it. I could feel it every day. Like I was the reason he was stuck in a marriage that only existed for their kids. And then my mom left him anyway. Two years later. He got remarried like we never existed six years later. I didn't even get a phone call, his friend’s kid told me."

Silence again, but heavier this time. He lets it sit for a moment, the way he always does when you say something that hurts to hear. Doesn't fill it with empty words. Doesn't rush to fix it. Just holds it.

Then his voice comes low, near your ear. "Takes a real special kind of asshole to blame a kid for tellin' the truth."

Your throat tightens. "He said it was my fault because I couldn't keep my fucking mouth shut. And I—" You suck in a shaky breath. "I believed him. I still... I still think maybe if l'd just shut up, maybe he would've stayed in my life. Maybe he wouldn't have stopped loving me."

"Hey." Haymitch's voice cuts through like gravel over glass. Not sharp, but firm. Real. "He didn't stop lovin' you, sugar. He never started."

That stings. But not in the way you expect. It stings because it feels like the truth.

You twist a little, not all the way to face him, but enough that your voice can tremble into the space between you. "Doesn't that make it worse?"

"Yeah," he says simply. "It does."

You blink, surprised.

"But it also makes it not your goddamn fault," he adds, voice lowering, softening again. "You were a kid. You were his kid. And he looked at that and chose himself. That ain't love, sugar. That's cowardice in a button-down shirt."

Your chest aches with something raw, something too big to name.

He shifts behind you, just enough to press his lips to the back of your shoulder. Not a kiss so much as a quiet anchor.

"He left 'cause he's broken. Not 'cause you are," Haymitch mutters. "And if he could walk away after eighteen years and not look back? Then the only damn thing you lost was a man who didn't deserve to be called your father in the first place."

You let out a breath that feels like it's been stuck in your lungs for years.

And he holds you tighter.

But the ache doesn’t leave. Not with his arm around you, not with the warmth of his breath against your skin. It presses harder now, blooming in your chest like something rotten finally splitting open.

Because he’s right.

Your father didn’t love you.

Not really. Not the way a father should love a daughter—not unconditionally, not protectively, not at all. And somehow, somehow, that makes it worse. Because you spent years blaming yourself. Years trying to earn it back. As if love was a prize you lost for misbehaving. For opening your mouth. For existing too loudly.

Even with your name inked above his damn hand, permanently etched in pretty cursive—he forgot you like it meant nothing. Like you meant nothing.

A sob catches in your throat before you can stop it.

Haymitch’s arm jerks slightly, tightening again like instinct, like he felt it break in you before you did.

You cover your mouth with your hand, but it’s too late. The first tear slips out hot and traitorous. And then another. You try to be quiet, still, invisible the way you learned to be back then—but grief doesn’t care about silence. It rolls out of you in waves, gasping and ugly and helpless.

“Shit,” Haymitch murmurs, like the sound hurts him more than he’s ready to admit. He shifts behind you, curling around you more fully, pulling your body against his like he can shield you from the inside out.

His hand slips over yours, tugging it gently away from your mouth. “Don’t do that,” he says, just above a whisper. “Don’t hide from me.”

You don’t speak.

Can’t.

Because even now, the thought digs in with claws: If he could forget me, erase me, walk away so easily… then how can anyone stay? How can anyone love me long enough to not get tired of me?

Haymitch presses a kiss into your hair, just behind your ear, and keeps his lips there when he speaks. “You hear me, sugar? You don’t have to earn shit here. Not love. Not space. Not this bed. Not me.”

That only makes you cry harder.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. Just shifts you gently until you’re on your back and he’s propped up on one elbow, leaning over you with that gruff concern carved into every line of his face. His thumb brushes your cheek, slow and clumsy, like he’s not used to this but is doing it anyway. For you.

“I’m not him,” he says, voice low and steady, even when your tears soak into the pillow. “And you’re not some broken thing someone forgot to put back together. You hear me?”

You nod, barely.

He leans in and rests his forehead against yours, breathing like it’s the only thing keeping both of you grounded.

“Good,” he mutters. “Now quit cryin’. You’re gettin’ snot on my pillow.”

You let out a strangled little laugh-sob, and he finally smiles. Barely there. But real.

“Better,” he says. “Still messy, but better.”

He doesn’t make you talk. Doesn’t make you explain any more. Just lays on his back and pulls you to him again, your head on his chest this time, his hand moving in slow, absent-minded circles against your back. He hums something tuneless and low under his breath like it’ll chase away the ghosts.

You don’t fall asleep. Even with his hand drawing warm circles on your back, even with his chest rising beneath your cheek like the world isn’t falling apart—you stay wide awake. The tears slow, but the ache doesn’t.

And the words start tumbling out again before you can stop them.

“He didn’t just leave me,” you whisper, voice scratchy from crying. “He left my little brother, too.”

Haymitch makes a quiet sound in his throat. Not surprised. Just listening.

“But not my oldest brother,” you go on, bitterness thick in your voice now. “He’s the good one. The golden child. Always did what he was told. Always said the right things, always threw insults at my mom like she was the one who did something wrong. So when my dad got remarried, guess who he still lets live at his house?”

You don’t wait for a response. You’re unraveling now, and it feels too late to stop.

“And my baby brother—he’s only fifteen. He still gets picked up every other Sunday. My dad comes to the house, makes polite small talk with my mom like they’re just neighbors, like he didn’t ruin everything. And he would just walk past me. Wouldn’t even look at me. Wouldn’t ask how I’m doing. Wouldn’t even say hi.”

You suck in a breath that burns.

“It’s like I’m not real,” you say. “Like I’m not even a person anymore. Just this… this reminder of something he wants to pretend never happened. He kept two kids and threw the rest away, like we were leftovers from a meal he didn’t like.”

Haymitch is quiet for a long time, his hand never stopping its path along your spine.

Then, carefully, he says, “And you still had to see him? Every other damn Sunday?”

You nod against his chest, “Until I moved in with you.”

“Christ,” he mutters, and there’s real venom behind it now. “Man must be built outta ice to look his own daughter in the eye and walk the hell away.”

You press your face tighter into his shirt. “He doesn’t look me in the eye anytime he sees me. Not anymore.”

You feel him tense again, like he wants to fight something but there’s nothing around but you, and he’s not about to let go of you to go start swinging.

“He made it look so easy,” you say after a moment, voice breaking again. “To just… stop being a dad. He picked who was worth keeping. And I wasn’t.”

The quiet hum beneath your ear changes. A deeper inhale. A long, slow exhale.

Then Haymitch says, low and hoarse, “He didn’t keep them because they were better than you, sugar. He kept ‘em ‘cause they were easier. Because they didn’t call him on his bullshit. Didn’t make him look in the mirror and see the kind of man he really is.”

You blink, stunned for a moment by the sharpness in his tone.

“He chose what made him feel good,” he adds. “Not what made him a father.”

And then he pulls you up, shifts you without asking until you’re eye-level with him, close enough that your nose nearly bumps his.

“You hear me?” he says, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw. “You didn’t do a damn thing wrong. You weren’t unlovable. You were inconvenient to a man who only ever cared about himself.”

You blink again, and another tear falls. You hate how many you have in you tonight.

Haymitch sighs like he can see it happening all over again behind your eyes. “He abandoned you because he’s a coward. Not ‘cause you’re forgettable. Not ‘cause you’re hard to love.”

His gaze softens, brow furrowing. “Far as I’m concerned, sugar, he gave up the best damn thing that ever came out of his sorry bloodline.”

That breaks you a little more. Not because it hurts—but because for the first time in a long time, someone is saying what you always wanted to believe might be true. And meaning it.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Just another small, choked sound and a breath that flattens against his collarbone.

He pulls you back into his chest, tighter this time, like he’s anchoring you to the here and now.

“Let it out,” he murmurs. “I got you.”

And you do.

You’re not even sure when you started crying again.

Somewhere between his thumb on your jaw and the way he said you were the best damn thing, it cracked something deeper open. And now it’s all pouring out again—years of grief and rage and shame that never had anywhere to go.

You can’t look at him. You bury your face against his chest again, hiding, because it’s too much. You feel like too much. But his hand doesn’t stop moving. Doesn’t flinch away from the way your body shakes against his.

“I hate that it still hurts,” you whisper eventually, voice raw. “I hate that I still care what he thinks. That some part of me still wants him to call and say he made a mistake. That he wants me back.”

Haymitch doesn’t say anything. Just makes a soft, almost pained sound in his throat.

“I know he won’t,” you say quickly, bitterly. “I know he won’t. But I want it anyway. Even after everything he’s done. After the names he called me. After the way he—”

Your voice catches. Your heart’s beating too fast.

“He used to say I ruined his life,” you manage. “That I made my mom hate him. That I turned my brothers against him. He said I was cold. Manipulative. That I was just like her.”

You don’t have to explain who her is. You can feel Haymitch tense again—just enough to show he gets it. He’s probably known men like your father. Hell, maybe he’s been afraid of being one.

“I was ten,” you say. “I was ten, and he made me feel like I’d burned our house down just by telling the truth.”

You suck in a shaky breath. “And the worst part is, I believed him. For so long, I believed him. I thought maybe I was broken. Too loud. Too angry. Too much.”

You press your palms to your eyes, trying to shut it all out, but it just keeps coming.

“And now it’s been ten years,” you whisper. “Ten years since everything changed. And every time I get close to someone, I can feel it all over again. That need to shrink down. To make myself easier to love. To not be a burden. I feel like if I say one wrong thing, they’ll just leave too.”

Haymitch’s hand has stilled on your back, but only so he can wrap both arms around you now, anchoring you fully against him. No space left. No escape routes. You’re just held.

“I’m tired,” you admit, the words hitching in your throat. “I’m so tired of pretending I’m fine. Of carrying around this feeling that I was never enough. Not for him. Not for anyone.”

The silence stretches.

Then, quietly, Haymitch says, “You were enough. You are enough. He just wasn’t the kind of man who could see it. And that’s not on you, sugar. That’s never been on you.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. You just keep crying, shaking silently in his arms like the grief is shaking through you.

He shifts a little, pressing his forehead to the top of your head.

“You’ve been holding all this by yourself too long,” he murmurs. “No wonder it’s heavy.”

Another tear slips free, and you nod against his chest.

His voice drops again, rough and quiet. “You ain’t too much for me. You’re never gonna be. You come with history, yeah—but so do I. And I’ll take every piece of yours if it means I get to keep holdin’ you like this.”

You let out a sound between a sob and a laugh.

“You’re safe here,” he adds. “You’re safe, sugar.”

You don’t even realize you’ve gone quiet until the silence feels too loud again.

Haymitch is still holding you—arms locked firm around your body like he knows damn well you might fall apart if he lets go. His breathing is steady against the top of your head, grounding you. But your own breath is uneven. Shaky.

And then the words come again, hoarse and trembling, tumbling out like they’ve been waiting years for someone to catch them.

“Things got worse after I told her,” you whisper. “After I told my mom about the cheating.”

Haymitch doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just listens.

“I’d only ever seen him hurt her once before that,” you say. “I was a little kid. My earliest memory is waking up in the middle of the night to her crying. Crawling into my bed. And then he showed up in the doorway and screamed at her to get the fuck out of his house. They were in the hallway and he—” You stop, the breath catching painfully in your chest. “He grabbed her by the throat. Slammed her into the wall. Choked her.”

You expect Haymitch to tense, to curse, to move. But he doesn’t. He just holds you closer, his hand tightening against your back.

“Nothing like that happened again. Not until after I caught him. I was ten, and it was right before we got evicted from my childhood home. Everything just… exploded. We moved to a smaller house, and they started fighting all the time. Screaming in the hallway. Hitting each other. My room was tiny—I had my dresser pressed against the foot of my bed, and there was this little space between the dresser and the wall. Just enough to curl up in. I’d take my pillow and blanket and lay there while they fought. Like hiding could make it stop.”

You pause, swallowing hard. His hand moves again—slow, steady strokes up and down your spine.

“There was one night after a fight,” you continue, quieter now, “my mom came in and said ‘Never be like your dad.’ And then later, he came in and said ‘Never be like your mom.’ Like I was supposed to choose between them. Like I had to pick which kind of damage I wanted to become.”

Haymitch makes a noise—soft, guttural. Like something inside him’s breaking for you.

“There was this night at my grandparents’ house,” you say, breath hitching. “They were drunk and fighting outside. He shoved her into the gravel. I was the one who ran out there. I stood above her, just stared him down, and waited for him to come closer. I thought he might hit me. I knew he might. But my grandparents came out and stopped him.”

You’re crying again. You don’t try to stop it now.

“She wasn’t wearing pants,” you whisper. “I didn’t understand it then. I do now. She told me later that he… he would rape her. And if she fought back, he’d threaten to take us.”

You feel Haymitch go still. Deadly still.

“He woke us up that night. Made all of us get in the car. We didn’t know why. Just listened. And when she came outside, that’s when the fight started. That’s when I ran. Threw the door open and ran to her. Stood there before he could get close.”

You wipe at your face, but the tears just keep coming.

“And I still fell for it,” you say, voice cracking. “I still let him manipulate me. Make me believe he never cheated. That my mom was the one who cheated. That the abuse never happened. Even though I saw it with my own eyes.”

Haymitch’s arm moves to cradle your head, pulling it against his neck.

“He made me hate her,” you sob. “He used me to stalk her. He broke into her house and left a flower on her pillow. One Mother’s Day, he locked the door and wouldn’t let her see us. I had to listen to her begging on the other side of the door. And I still loved him. I still tried.”

You shake your head against him.

“I was twelve when they separated. Fourteen when he started dating my stepmom. I’d been living with him a year by then. And that’s when I started seeing it—how he only cared when I was under his spell. When I started fighting back, started calling him out, suddenly I was the problem. I was a fuck up. Just like my mom.”

Haymitch is still silent, but you can feel the fury in the tension of his body. The kind that wants to protect. The kind that wants to undo what can’t be undone.

“My stepmom hated me,” you go on. “She’d stand in my doorway and scream at me. And when I moved out at fifteen, that’s when it started. The slow abandonment. By sixteen, they were still technically around, but barely. Every time he talked to me, he used that fake voice. Like I was a stranger. Like he didn’t know me. Like I didn’t carry his damn DNA.”

Your voice cracks. “He didn’t even divorce my mom until he wanted to marry her. Made it this big custody battle. Said he wanted custody of me. But when I told my mom’s lawyer about the abuse, suddenly he didn’t want me at all. And then he was just… gone.”

You go quiet. The room’s only sound is your breathing—your grief. The weight of it suffocating and sharp.

“I still tried,” you whisper. “Even after all of it. I still loved him. And he just… shut me out. Completely. Like I didn’t matter.”

Haymitch’s lips brush your temple. You barely hear him breathe your name.

“I gave up by eighteen,” you say. “But I didn’t cut him off completely until this February. A month after I turned twenty.”

The silence that follows is endless.

Then—Haymitch shifts, one hand framing your cheek as he tilts your face toward his. His voice, when he finally speaks, is soft and jagged all at once.

“You didn’t fall for anything, sugar. You were groomed. Gaslit. Lied to. You were just a kid—scared, desperate for love, trying to survive in a warzone you never signed up for.”

You blink up at him, eyes burning.

“And you did survive,” he says. “You made it out. You saw the truth and you fought back. You did the bravest goddamn thing a person can do—you walked away. You cut him off. You saved yourself.”

You swallow, the tears still spilling.

“You are not the damage he did to you,” Haymitch murmurs. “You’re the fight that came after.”

You’re not even sure how long it’s been. The sky outside the window is beginning to gray at the edges, that in-between hour when the world still pretends it’s night but something softer is trying to crawl in. You’re lying curled into Haymitch’s chest like your bones wouldn’t know how to hold you up otherwise, your voice hoarse and raw from hours of truth spilling out of you.

But one more still clings to your ribs.

“I never understood why my mom stayed with him for so long,” you whisper, barely audible. “Even when I was little, I knew he was awful. And now that I’m older, now that she tells me more… it wasn’t just the cheating. He was bad for years.”

Haymitch doesn’t move. Doesn’t interrupt. Just runs his hand down your back again, the rhythm grounding.

“I didn’t get it,” you say. “Not until I was sixteen. When I started dating this girl. She was never physical, but… she didn’t have to be.”

Your voice breaks a little, but you keep going. “She’d scream at me over the smallest things. Insult me. Pull her love away like it was something I was supposed to earn. And I tried. I tried so hard to earn it. One second she loved me, and the next—if I wasn’t who she wanted me to be—it was like I was nothing.”

Your breath shudders in and out.

“I wasn’t allowed to talk about my feelings. Everything I said was a problem. I remember once, she got a press-on nail stuck in her hair, and I asked if she was okay, and she just screamed at me. Told me to shut up and leave her alone. Like I was bothering her just by being there.”

You feel Haymitch’s jaw tighten against your temple.

“She broke up with me because I didn’t want to be intimate. I was still recovering from…” you trail off, just for a second, but he doesn’t press. “So I made myself do it anyway. Because I would’ve done anything for her. I loved her with every piece of me, even when she used that love like a knife.”

You sniff, wiping at your face again.

“I let her pick me apart. I changed everything about myself to make her happy. I got quieter. Smaller. I stopped being me. And it was still never enough.”

You’re trembling again now, like saying it makes the pain rise back up.

“She made me feel crazy,” you whisper. “Like I was the abuser. Like I was the problem. She’d push and push until I snapped, and then she’d point and say, See? She’s the toxic one. Not me. That’s what they call reactive abuse, right?”

Haymitch’s hand pauses for a moment. Then it presses firm against your back, steady.

“I stayed until I was eighteen,” you say, brokenly. “Even though I knew she was awful. Even though she made me cry constantly. She’d break up with me every other month just to come back crying and apologizing—and I always let her. Every time.”

Your voice is nearly gone now. Just air and hurt.

“I think it’s ‘cause it felt familiar. Like what I saw growing up. I thought… I thought maybe that was just what love was. That I was meant to love people who tore me apart. That it was all I’d ever be worth.”

And then—quiet, so quiet it almost doesn’t come out—you whisper:

“But then I met you.”

Haymitch exhales like he’s been punched. He sits up.

His arms wrap around you in full, pulling you up until you’re sitting in his lap, until your face is buried in the crook of his neck and his arms are wrapped tightly around you.

“Goddamn it, sugar,” he says, voice thick and shaking. “You shouldn’t’ve had to survive any of that.”

You don’t say anything. You just let yourself be held.

“I don’t know what kind of cruel joke the world played, makin’ someone like you believe you were meant for scraps,” he goes on, voice rasping low in your ear. “But they were all wrong. Every last one of ‘em. You hear me?”

You nod into his nice, but he pulls you back just enough to frame your face in his rough palms.

“I mean it,” he says, eyes burning with something fierce and unshakable. “You’re not too much. You’re not broken. You’re not hard to love.”

Your chin quivers, and he presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there.

“You didn’t stay with her because you’re weak. You stayed because you were taught love looks like that. But it doesn’t. Not with me.”

His thumbs swipe at the wetness on your cheeks.

“You don’t ever have to make yourself smaller here. You don’t ever have to beg for affection or walk on eggshells or wonder if I’m gonna stop loving you the second you speak your mind.”

He leans in, forehead resting against yours.

“I don’t want a quiet, easy version of you. I want you. Loud or soft. Messy or calm. Cryin’ in my arms or makin�� me laugh so hard I nearly fall over. You don’t need to shape yourself into something else to be worthy of love, sugar. You already are.”

Your breath hitches.

“I love you,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “All of you. Every damn scar, every story. You are not hard to love. You just haven’t been loved right.”

And in his arms, something in you finally starts to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could be.

You’re still in his lap but you’ve shifted so your legs are on either side of him, your forehead against the warmth of his shoulder , tears soaking quietly into his shirt. And Haymitch doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t try to hush you. He just holds you like it’s the most natural thing in the world—like your weight belongs there. Like he’s done this a thousand times in another life, and every time, it’s been you.

“C’mere,” he murmurs again, even though you’re already there. His hand runs down your back, then up into your hair, slow and careful. “You don’t have to say anything else. I got you.”

And he does.

He’s not always good with words—not when it comes to feelings—but he tries. He always tries for you.

“You’re somethin’ special, you know that?” he says, voice low and a little rough, but full of certainty. “Not ‘cause you’ve been through hell. Not ‘cause you clawed your way out. But because somehow, after all of it, you still got that soft heart beatin’ in your chest.”

His fingers slide gently down your arm, wrapping around your hand like it’s something precious.

“You still love big. Still trust. Still give people chances they didn’t earn, even after they’ve hurt you. That ain’t weakness, sugar. That’s strength I don’t know if I’ve ever seen before.”

You sniff, quietly, and he presses a kiss to your hair.

“And don’t think for a second that you’re hard to be around,” he adds. “You don’t exhaust me. You don’t scare me off. I’ve seen real monsters. You? You’re the brightest damn thing I’ve had in my life in years. You’re warmth. You’re light. You’re the reason I bother makin’ coffee in the morning instead of drinkin’ straight from the bottle.”

A tear slips out again, but it’s softer now. Less pain, more release.

“You’re allowed to be messy. Allowed to fall apart,” he says. “Doesn’t make me wanna leave. Makes me wanna hold you tighter. Makes me want to be here.”

He pulls back just enough to tilt your chin up, to make sure you’re looking at him when he says it.

“I want you, sugar. Not in spite of everything you’ve lived through. With it. All of it.”

Your lip trembles.

“You could scream at me, cry on me, tell me the same story ten times because it still hurts, and I’ll still show up. I’ll still pull you into bed with me and keep you safe. I’ll still be right here in the morning.”

His thumb traces the edge of your cheekbone.

“I don’t need perfect,” he says. “I just need you. Exactly as you are.”

And when you let out a shaky breath and finally lean back into him again, he wraps his arms around you so tight it feels like maybe the shattered parts of your heart could actually start to mend there.

“Rest, sugar,” he murmurs against your temple. “Let me carry it for a while. You’ve done enough.”

You lose track of time like that. Pressed against him. Surrounded by the beat of his heart and the rough scratch of his voice when he says your name, like it means something sacred.

Eventually, he shifts just enough to lie back fully, taking you with him, your cheek resting on his chest. One of his hands cradles your head, fingers buried gently in your hair. The other runs slow and absent down your spine, like tracing you is the only thing he wants to do for the rest of his life.

“Y’know,” he murmurs, “I used to think I wasn’t good at this.”

You blink up at him, confused.

“Comfort. Love. Bein’ soft with someone,” he says. “Didn’t think I had it in me. Thought I was too wrecked to be good for anybody.”

His hand stills against your back for a second, then starts moving again.

“And then there you were. With all your damn light. All your pain, sure, but all your fight, too. You didn’t need someone to fix you. Just someone to see you.”

He tilts your chin up and looks at you with those storm-colored eyes—sharp and tired and so unbelievably tender when they’re on you.

“I see you, sugar,” he whispers. “Every piece. And I love the whole damn thing.”

You let out a little breath—half-sob, half-laugh—and he smiles.

“There’s my girl,” he mutters, brushing his nose against yours.

“I look a mess,” you mumble, voice still thick with emotion.

“Yeah,” he says, smug. “A gorgeous, brave, heart-full-of-love kinda mess. My favorite kind.”

You huff, and he catches the sound of it like it’s a gift, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You make this old man want to be soft,” he says. “That’s how I know it’s real.”

You smile into his chest, a little fragile still, but it’s there. Real and blooming.

And when he pulls the blanket over the both of you and mumbles, “Go on, sleep now. I’ll be here in the morning. And the next morning. And the next,” you believe him.

Because he’s Haymitch.

Because he stayed.

Because he loves you.

You don’t fall asleep right away.

Even after everything you’ve spilled, even after the steady rhythm of Haymitch’s hand on your back and the sound of his heartbeat under your ear, your mind is still too full. But this time, it’s not just the ache. It’s something gentler, something truer.

You lift your head slowly, eyes searching for his in the dim light. “Can I say something?”

Haymitch cracks one eye open. “‘S’pose I’d be a hypocrite if I said no.”

You give a soft, breathy laugh, and he tightens his arm around you just a little. Not teasing. Not joking. Just wanting to feel you close.

You shift so you’re sitting up, basically straddling him now. Your hands press against his waist. He’s quiet, waiting, his face tired but open.

“I know I said a lot tonight,” you whisper, “but there’s more I need to say. About you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You sure you’re not all cried out?”

You nod. “This isn’t the kind of crying that hurts.”

He doesn’t say anything—just looks at you, his thumb brushing lightly along your wrist, like he’s bracing for what’s coming.

You take a breath.

“You saved me,” you say softly. “Not with big gestures or some grand rescue. But with things that matter more. You’ve listened. You’ve stayed. You never flinch away when I fall apart.”

His expression flickers—something caught between awe and disbelief—but you don’t let him argue. You keep going.

“You’re the first place I’ve ever felt safe without having to hide myself to be safe. You don’t ask me to make my pain prettier. You don’t try to fix me. You just… see me. And that means more than I know how to explain.”

Haymitch doesn’t speak, but you feel his stomach rise with a quiet, sharp inhale.

“I know you’ve been through hell too,” you murmur. “I know people let you down. Broke things in you that never should’ve cracked in the first place. But I need you to know this: you are not broken to me.”

He blinks, slowly.

“You are the safest thing I’ve ever known,” you whisper. “Even when you grumble. Even when you call me a brat or roll your eyes. You’re home to me.”

His breath catches—just a little.

“And I love you,” you say, so softly it barely crosses the space between you. “Not just because you stayed. Not just because you held me when I couldn’t hold myself. I love you, Haymitch. All of you. The sharp edges. The softness you pretend you don’t have. The way you say my name like it’s the only thing in the world that matters.”

He lets out a shaky breath, like you just knocked the wind out of him.

You lean down and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Gentle. Steady. “You make the world less scary,” you whisper against his skin. “You make me feel like I might be worth loving. But I hope you know… you’re worth it, too. You’ve always been.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. Then his hands come up and grip your waist, he pulls you down like he’s afraid if he doesn’t hold you, he might fall apart.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs into your hair.

“You do,” you say without hesitation, arms slipping under him and around his waist. “You always have.”

He doesn’t argue. Not this time.

Instead, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, lingering there like he’s breathing you in.

“Love you too, sugar,” he says softly. “More than I thought I could love anything again.”

You smile into the crook of his neck.

And finally, finally, the storm inside you begins to quiet.

[redpill-tfs]

Bro I saw you turn Brody into that crony ass senator. My bro would never do that. I'm gonna come and rescue him from whatever game you're playing.

You head into the senator's house, an ornate mansion in southern Virginia earned from years of a Congress salary. There has to be something here that can help you save "Brody." You'd do anything for him after all.

The house is quiet right now, the senator in Washington D.C. spreading conservative values and passing bills. His wife is out doing the weekly shopping and the kids are at their private Christian school. It's the perfect time to get some information on what happened.

Your search leads you into a separate wing of the house, with a smaller bedroom and connected bathroom. A grand dressing mirror stands on one of the walls, completely free of any objects. You decide to search through the drawers for anything that could save your bro when your eyes lock onto the mirror again.

You find your body completely frozen in place, unable to move or even look away from the mirror. You're starting to get nervous now. How are you going to get out of this?

Your clothes suddenly vanish, leaving you completely naked. Your old pastel shirt and shorts are no more, the jacket around your neck gone too. New clothes start to form in their place. A pristine white dress shirt drapes around your body, buttoning all the way up. A pair of simple underwear appears and is soon covered by a pair of suit pants, tucking the shirt into them. A red vest comes next, securing itself on your body. A tuxedo jacket joins the ensemble, complete with a white pocket square tucked neatly into the pocket. Finally, a red bow tie ties itself around your neck, completing the look.

Some physical changes accompany the wardrobe. Your hair is slicked back and darkens into a deep brown, giving a nice professional look. Your face becomes a bit more chiseled and younger, looking like you are in your early twenties. Any imperfections on your face are erased, giving a perfect look.

You stare in the mirror in horror at your new appearance, still unable to move. As you start to panic more, your mind suddenly goes blank and your memories are rewritten. What were you doing in this room again? What was your name again? You find yourself unable to remember, but also unable to care. You're just a servant after all. You don't need to worry about your own needs and wants. The only thing that matters is serving Sir and making sure his needs are met.

You remember meeting Sir just after high school, being a liberal atheist with big aspirations in life at the time. You had been accepted into your dream college with plans to marry your high school boyfriend not long after. Your memory of meeting Sir is a little hazy, but you remember the both of you agreeing that your life would be better spent in service to a superior man like him. In the years that have followed, you couldn't agree more. Your "old life" feels like a distant memory now.

Sir has taught you a lot since taking you in. Important skills like cooking, cleaning, and how to give a perfect blow job. Any mistakes made were swiftly punished. You've learned to do your jobs perfectly to serve him better. You want to serve him better.

He taught you how your old political beliefs were all wrong, "outdated communist bullshit" as he'd put it. You couldn't agree more. Right is right. Red is superior, hence the accent on your uniform. He let you watch the news on election night and you were elated when the entire government got a conservative majority. With all three branches of government under Republican and MAGA control, you can't wait to see what the future holds with men like Sir in control.

Sir also introduced you to religion, how your old ways were damning you to an afterlife of torture. You've started praying every night after your chores are completed and attending church with Sir's family every Sunday, still in your suits of course.

You shake your head, pulling yourself out of memory lane. Adjusting your bowtie in the mirror to perfect your appearance for Sir. You suddenly receive a message from Sir on your phone:

"Make sure every room is spotless, Boy. Dinner on the table by the time I get home. If you do a good job, I might let you suck me off as a reward."

You smile at that, eager to please him. You'd better get back to work. You still have several rooms to dust and vacuum and a three course meal to prepare. You take one final look in the mirror before leaving your quarters, heading back to work.

[familyvideostevie]

october thirtieth

day thirty: james potter you find a photo of the two of you in james's pocket | established relationship, fluff | 1k

“James, have you seen my lipstick?”

No reply. You check your makeup bag one more time but can't find it.

“James!”

“What?”

His voice is muffled. You leave the bathroom and follow it, finding him standing in the closet frowning at his dress shirts. You press into his side, wrapping yourself around his bare torso. “Your face is going to stick like that if you're not careful.”

He drags his hand up and down between your shoulder blades. “I have to be the best-dressed bride of a vampire out there, darling. You know that.”

Silly, silly man. The event of the evening is Halloween-themed drinks at the popular bar on the high street. You had to book a table and everything and James has been looking forward to it all month.

He came up with your costumes: you, a dangerous and beautiful vampire, and him, your willing and handsome bride.

“Well, best of luck to you. Have you seen my lipstick? The red one?”

You need it to draw the punctures on his neck and lines of blood from the corners of your mouth. James pulls himself from your hold and selects a shirt, finally, buttoning it up halfway and messing with his hair in the mirror.

“I don't have it, darling,” he says.

You sigh. Easily distracted, this one. “I gave it to you the other night to hold.”

He snaps his fingers. “So you did. It must be in my jacket pocket.”

“Which one?” You swear James has more clothes than you.

“Which jacket or which pocket?”

“James.”

He winks at you, glasses flashing. “Brown jacket, not sure which pocket.”

You leave him to his fussing and find it hanging on the hook in the entryway.

The lipstick is not in the right pocket or the left. You hope he's not lost it because it's a great color and you really don't want to have to draw the blood on in purple, or something, but then you feel something lipstick-shaped in the breast pocket.

“Jackpot,” you mutter. You pull the tube from the pocket but out with it comes a piece of paper.

It's creased and wrinkled, as if it's been handled many times. You unfold it and —

Oh. You think you say that out loud.

It's you and James. A photo from ages ago. Years, actually. It's you two on the night you met. A party of Lily's, something she did often in those days to bring people together, and this one was a game night. You and James had been paired up for charades and you'd absolutely crushed the competition. You remember feeling like you could read each other's minds.

In the photo you're holding the trophy — a tiny, plastic thing Lily had bought at a discount store — and you're smiling so wide you can see all of your teeth. James has his arm slung around you and he's looking right at you instead of at the camera.

His expression shocks you. You've seen hundreds of photos of the two of you together where he's got this look on his face, the one that you know to be love. And in the photo you've just found, one of the first day you met, he's looking at you the same way. Like he's in love.

“Darling?” he calls. “Did you find it?” he wanders down the hall, fully dressed, and you turn to him.

“Yes,” you say, breathless. “James, why do you have this in your jacket?”

“Hm?” He slides his hand over your hip and leans in to look, face brightening when he see's what you've found. “Have you not seen this before? I suppose I've kept it in there since Lily gave it to me.”

You just stare at it.

“God, it's so obvious I was gone for you,” he sighs.

You turn your head so you're looking at him, so close you could count his eyelashes. “You were?”

“Darling, I was utterly ass over tit for you from the start. In love the second you opened your mouth.”

“Don't be silly, James.”

He looks offended. “No, it's true! I remember the whole thing. I was late and you'd been freed up from work at the last minute so we didn't have partners when Lily said to make teams. And you looked at me and said, 'You better be good at this, because I am.' And I said, 'I will win you this if it's the last thing I do.'”

“Which was a bit dramatic,” you mutter.

“And you didn't even tell me your name until we won.”

“That is how it went, I suppose. You really fancied me because I was a bit overcompetative?”

James snorts. “Come on, love, is that really so hard to believe?”

You look at the picture again. It isn't, considering you were similarly smitten that night, but it's still a bit like a fairy tale.

“No, I guess not.”

“I mean, who wouldn't fall in love with you at first sight?” James presses a kiss to your temple. “You're funny —” he kisses your brow “— sweet —” your nose “— lovely —” your cheek.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you say, shoving him off. “We need to finish getting ready, James, or we'll be late.”

He bares his neck for you. “Blood me up, baby.”

You laugh, slip the photo back into his jacket, and drag him back to the bathroom. “You're so weird.”

“And you looooove it.”

“You're the one who carries that photo round all the time!”

Just saying it makes your heart swell. It's a small thing in the grand scheme of your relationship. James shows you he loves you all the time — in his words, his actions. The way he looks at you. How he always buys your favorite flavor soda at the shop when he sees it. The way he knows how to wake you from a nap without startling you. His touch in a crowded room and his gaze when he senses you need something.

So, yeah, a photo in his jacket pocket is nothing, really. But he clearly looks at it often and thins about that first night.

You lean in and kiss him without warning. He makes a surprised noise but leans into it, hand cupping the back of your neck. Maybe it's alright if you're a little late.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

[wafflexdguy]

HAII!!!HAII HEEO HELLO!!!!

AHEMM

How about a looey x scientist!reader? :3 like when the reader is doing an experiment, and then looey comes into her lab suddenly making the experiment go boom,reader gets mad at looey,afterwards she goes to apologise to him and happy ending! Hooray!! :D

I JUST LOVE HUM SM AND THERES RARELY X READERS OF HIM

DO IT AND MY LIFE IS YOURSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS💜💜💜 (NOT FORCING!! :D)

The man responsible for ending 50% of my runs. Fuck this man in particular. Wikipedia saved my ass because I haven't actually bought this character yet in the game lol.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't think you were supposed to mix that.

Looey x Scientist Reader.

Regrettably, one of my shorter ones. Mostly because I fucking hate this guy. /Affectionate

Reminder that I write in 2nd person, so gender remains ambiguous.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"M'kay, can you go stand over there?"

You had managed to get a toon that you weren't familiar with to participate in one of your experiments. Was it legal? Maybe. Was it ethically questionable? Absolutely! Did you care? No, you had them sign paperwork saying it was okay.

The reindeer looked at you quizzically as you gave them the instruction. "Uh, this will make my nose glow brighter, right?"

"Possibly!"

The reindeer looked at you slightly stunned before shrugging. "Anything for Christmas!"

The reindeer stood on a platform that was way too complicated to explain in one paragraph, so to simplify: Big machine does cool thing.

You looked down at your tablet as you make sure the chemicals you were about to inject into his nose was actually going to make his nose glow brighter.

"Okay, so this is a very delicate process." You begin to explain. "So I need you to stay extremely still to ensure your safety, understood?"

"Got it!" The reindeer replied, attempting to give you a thumbs up, only to fail halfway through. He awkwardly lowered his arm as you began to press buttons on your tablet, with mechanical arms with the chemicals lowered towards his nose. Would this be a safer procedure if you did it yourself? Sure, but you wanted to give this a shot.

Also, because you didn't trust the chemicals to not explode. 

You were carefully directing the arms towards his nose, ready to inject the chemicals to give this reindeer a glow up.

At least, you would have. If the circus hadn't just showed up.

"Hi scientist!"

Your finger slips as it suddenly and forcefully injects the reindeer's nose, causing Santa's animal to reel back in pain stumbling back into a couple of experimental machines, knocking things down. 

Your water that you keep on a desk so conveniently ends up falling onto one of these machines, causing an electrical fire. The furry animal quickly retreats upon seeing this, staring in shock as months of building and perfecting comes crashing down. Losing tons of scientific research due to chemicals falling onto your research papers you were supposed to give to your caretakers.

Looey stands there both stunned and awkwardly.

"Uh... Oops?" He smiles weakly.

"Everyone get out of the lab!" You yell, quickly earning a response from both living specimen in the lab who quickly does as their told a bails out of the lab.

You quickly go grab your fire extinguisher and put out the fire. Assessing the damage, you can determine that it wasn't really... Good. Your Ichor experiments had just been ruined, destroyed even. 

You sigh, rubbing your forehead. "Looey..." You mutter under your breath. You were annoyed with them; they had just barged into your experiment and ruined years' worth of research! You were so focused into completing what the caretakers wanted to do, and now he just barged in and ruined everything!

You- You!

You forgot to put your red light on.

The red light indicating that you were in the middle of something important.

You facepalm yourself, feeling stupid. It wasn't his fault, this felt like something out of a cartoon. Ironic because you were called toons.

You exit the lab, seeing one slightly nervous balloon person and one livid reindeer person. 

"Why would you just barge in like that?!" The reindeer yells, making Looey slightly more uncomfortable with the situation.

"S-Sorry! I really didn't mean to, I didn't know!" Looey attempts to justify, leaving the reindeer slightly more furious.

"That doesn't excuse that!"

"Yes it does." You butt in, leaving no room for argument. The two look at you. "It's my fault, I really should have had a 'in testing' kind of thing going on. That's on me."

Looey lets out a small sigh of relief. "Still though, I'm really sorry for barging in like that."

"No problem." You wave off.

"Uh, no?! Big problem, my nose still really hurts!" The reindeer yells, pointing at his nose.

You chuckle a bit. "At least it's glowing a bit brighter, like ya asked for." You said, pointing towards a mirror. 

He tilts his head, his previous anger evaporating for a moment as he goes to look in the mirror, only to see his nose glowing brighter.

"Oh, sweet! Thank you, scientist, I owe you one!" He says running off suddenly. You have to hand it to him; his energy shows no bounds.

You turn to Looey, who smiles at you. "It's good to see you!" He exclaims. You nod, returning the smile.

"It's nice to see you too, Loo." You look to the lab, slightly disappointed but undeterred. Looeys happy expression falters as he catches at what you were gazing at.

"I really am sorry for barging in like that." He fiddles with his ears, tugging on them slightly. You wave your hand at him dismissively.

"It's not your fault; I should have had the indicator on." Despite your tone, you were slightly still angry with him. How could you not? He had accidentally ruined so much progress. Either way, you wouldn't hold it against him.

"Anyway, let's get off of all the depressing stuff," he attempts to wave off further, "howzabout we go to my circus troupe? We've got a really great act coming up soon, and we wanted a second opinion!"

You let out a sigh. "Sure, buddy. Sounds fun."

[nemesis-writer]

Soap

Masterlist TW: neglect, toxic friends

Think I just remembered somethin' I think I left the faucet runnin' Now my words are fillin' up the tub Darling, you're just soaking in it But I know you'll get out the minute You notice all your fingers prunin' up

You were always so sweet, some would think too sweet. You're kindness would be considered as naiveness, but you were never naive. Just unloved.

Each neglected you in their own style, but each one always stabbed you in the heart. The scars that you've collected from them are considered to be multiple.

I'm tired of being careful, tiptoe Trying to keep the water warm Let me under your skin Uh-oh, there it goes I said too much, it overflowed Why do I always spill?

You've always had an issue with who to trust. It's not that you trust no one, it's that you trust people who'd say you're friends. You weren't properly trained with the outside world because of Bruce, and you didn't mind, since you thought you never really needed it.

You'd always share your 'friends', everything that happens to you and there's no pause button when you start opening your mouth.

I feel it coming out my throat Guess I better wash my mouth out with soap God, I wish I never spoke Now I gotta wash my mouth out with soap I feel it coming out my throat Guess I better wash my mouth out with soap God, I wish I never spoke Now I gotta wash my mouth out with soap

When you speak, no matter if it hurts people, you regretted it. And by the time you try to apologise, they already left.

It is hard to trust and be trusted, since you've never had a shed of experience back at home.

No matter how much you try to stop, your emotions can't stop flowing out of your mouth. You don't need a gun, you just had to open your mouth and the bullets aim the hearts of your victims and it never missed.

Think I got myself in trouble So I'll fill the bath with bubbles Then I'll put the towels all away Should've never said the word "love" Threw a toaster in the bathtub I'm sick of all the games I have to play

You could never have someone fall in love with your bluntness. How could you ever control it? For years you've been locked up from the world and forced to bottle up your emotions.

Who would ever want that?

I feel it coming out my throat Guess I better wash my mouth out with soap God, I wish I never spoke Now I gotta wash my mouth out with soap I feel it coming out my throat Guess I better wash my mouth out with soap God, I wish I never spoke Now I gotta wash my mouth out with soap

Taglist

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194,@thesehandsarerated-e, @eyeless-kun, @errorunfound1, @gwyneveire

[queenburd]

The use of color in The Stanley Parable: HD and Ultra Deluxe (with honorable mentions to the Demo)

dedicated to @squuote who needs more TSP analysis to rotate

A little over a year ago, I (only somewhat jokingly) lay out the argument that while The Stanley Parable is notorious in its use of yellow, the color yellow is not actually associated to the Narrator. The color most associated with him, I argued, was red. [1, 2]

I've had plenty of thoughts regarding color and TSP in the interim and I want to go over those thoughts today in as much depth as I can manage. You know, for fun. None of this is to argue about creator intent, but it's a fun way to stretch the critical thinking and literary analysis portions of my brain. It's also super cool if you don't agree with my readings, since the point is to get you thinking about these things and studying them to interpret for yourself.

Anyway let's gooooooo

(note: all images are embedded with a link to the source page I pulled them from. For those on mobile, be careful with your scrolling and tapping!)

Yellow

Okay let's start with the “obvious” one. Yellow is seen as one of the main colors in the game, it's the color of the main office and the primary assets associated with the Parable. We see yellow PRIMARILY in the beginning of the office, before the two doors room. It lines the cubicles and the walls are often interpreted as yellow (eh, they're more of an off-white. They're actually absorbing color from the brown-yellow carpet, and they do the same in the lounge).

It's the color of the Line(TM), it's the color of the cargo lift in the warehouse, and, most strikingly, it's the color of the SKIP Button.

We'll get to you.

Okay, so yellow is a color with conflicting interpretations, which is par for the course for all of them, we're not going TOO insane on color theory and color psychology we will be here ALL DAY and I was an ART student. So let's just look at the most basic reading. Bright, oversaturated yellow is a color that can exhaust the eyes easily. It grabs our attention like a highlighter and burns our retinas.

It can be a color of excitement, but it can also be a color of sickness. I've been thinking about the short story The Yellow Wallpaper the past couple days. Or maybe I've been thinking about it for longer. It's just that I haven't reread it in actual years, but every time I saw someone talk about the wallpaper in TSP, I thought about the story. Here's some passing thoughts on the short story in comparison to TSP. [3]

Sickness, and madness, and beginnings, and infinity. In the end, yellow, to me, is the color of the Parable grabbing the player (and by extension the Narrator) by the nose and saying “let's get moving. We have a story to play. Play the game, and keep playing.” Notable to me is how the SKIP button is almost scathingly yellow in contrast to the room it's in, and as the room gets darker the glow gets more foreboding. The Parable did this. The Narrator might think he made it, but he doesn't control it. Yellow isn't his color, and it never was.

Red

“Stanley walked through the RED. DOOR.”

The use of red in TSP is probably the most interesting and fun to analyze for me. It's used extremely intentionally and it's commonly associated with power, anger, and passion. We see red in the Boss's Office, in the Countdown ending, as the door to the Starry Dome, and a TON in the TSP2 Expo. There's red doors and signs in the Escape Pod Bay.

So I've joked that the color red is the Narrator's color, and while it's still a fun interpretation, it's not one I'm married to. I think it's more accurate to say red symbolizes control. The Zending Door is you letting him control the story. The Countdown screens are him taking control from you. And TSP2 is the Narrator trying to exert control over what the developers have made. It's a response to New Content and to the SKIP button. I have a million trillion thoughts about the TSP2 Expo but I won't get into them here.

Anyway, red feels very obviously to me associated with the Narrator trying to take control, or things only being possible when he has control. I'm thinking about the signs in the Escape Pod Bay telling you that it won't work without him. (I'm thinking about how the same door asset for the Zending is used in the Escape Pod Bay. No. shhh. Staying on topic.) So I don't have much more to say on the matter because I feel like I've tread this ground before. Red is about control, and it is held in direct contrast with blue.

Blue

Oh, blue. Soothing blue, sweet relaxing lounge and ocean paintings and boss's bathroom and blue door that leads to broken textures and an irritable Voice.

If red is the color of control, then blue is the color of rebellion. Small rebellion, sure. Rebellion that means nothing in the scheme of things. Blue is the stepping stone to bigger deviations from the path. I mean, the lounge is only the first step to the right, and you can still get on the “correct” path. The blue door you have to go through repeatedly, you have to make the choice multiple times, for it to lead to the Games ending. The boss's bathroom doesn't GO anywhere until after the epilogue. These are “rebellious choices” in a game where you don't really have a choice, and it's the closest you get to defiance.

I like to make it Stanley's favorite color for obvious reasons.

(Hey, fandom, why you keep associating it with the Curator? The only blue in the Museum is in a couple assets on display.)

Green

I gotta admit, while there's definitely something to green and its use in TSP, a clear meaning for it is eluding me, and I've been thinking about it on and off for a couple days now. It's a fairly infrequent color in TSP as a whole, but it does make an appearance. Besides being the color of plants (such as the ever important fern, the potted plants scattered through the office and the ones in the TSP2 expo, and of course the growth in the SKIP button room), it's also the wallpaper in the Demo, and the same wallpaper is used in the Boss's Office in the Real Person Ending. Thinking further, it also appears in the small room before the stage in the Press Conference Ending, and it's the color of the carpet in the HL2 Office that is found under the Games ending. (It was also brought up by my pal glitch that green is the color of the cursor on Stanley's screen, the first thing you see before gameplay begins. Good catch!)

Thinking about it, it's hard to find a throughline. There's something familiar about the green. Not necessarily safe, but it usually comes before something much bigger. Maybe this is a bit of a stretch, though. Let's say for now green is associated with the familiar in the face of the unfamiliar.

(There's possibly a thesis here about green being associated with gifts and surprises. The Narrator makes the Press Conference ending something that teases but also praises Stanley, the Green Room in the Demo is the space where the Demo is meant to be revealed to you, and that alternate Boss's Office is supposed to, in the Narrator's mind, be the first step to a wonderful story made just for you.)

White

Most people, when they think of white in The Stanley Parable, immediately think of the Museum. And they're right to! It's one of the most prominent environments that uses white. With that in mind, we can't forget the other places it appears, since it's best to keep everything in mind when trying to formulate a meaning for it.

So, other places where white is prominent: We have the out-of-bounds ending, and the Art ending (aka play that Baby game for four hours). We also have a massive part of the TSP2 expo.

Honestly, there is a lot of white in the rest of the office, but it tends to be absorbing the colors of the environment in ways that make it less noticeable. White's really good at that, which means the times where it's by itself as the outstanding color are outliers and feel intentional. So what do these things have in common?

Well, they kind of show the seams of the game? Take this with a grain of salt, but the Museum is designed to show you some of the design process for the game, effectively taking you out of the setting to give you a top-down perspective (hehe, literally in the case of the diorama of the office up to the two doors), and the out-of-bounds ending is a joke about breaking the map, falling out of the world , which can break immersion in other games. The TSP2 Expo is the Narrator showing off all the features for his sequel idea, giving a “sneak peek” of what will be included.

The Art ending doesn't fit with this thesis, but it does involve the... revelation, I suppose, of the “character” of the Essence of Divine Art. What I'm trying to get to is that white is a color of revelation and display.

Gray

Gray is not a color that tends to stand on its own merit in The Stanley Parable, and that in itself is intentional. Gray is used as a texture of “unfinished” things, things the Narrator doesn't want you to look closely at, and would prefer you move past Right Now Right This Second Please.

It's the walls of the Broom Closet, as well as the walls of the maintenance room. It's also the walls of the room right outside the Starry Dome—the hall that leads right to the stairs. (Honorable mention, @chirpbudgie brought up that the desks in the office are gray, which is also an implication of the way Stanley's coworkers seemed to disappear with work unfinished. There is a sense of “wrongness” in how they've all vanished. Nice eye, bud.)

You're not supposed to dwell in these places. Go back to the story, please!

Black

“Blackness, and a rising chill of uncertainty. Was it over?”

Last and least is black, less used as a color in its own right and more a use of shadow. It really stars primarily in the Mind Control Facility, dark rooms with a sense of foreboding. Honestly, what is there to say about black?

Only, I tell a lie. You see quite a lot of black in this game, don't you? After all:

It's the Loading screen.

Blackness is uncertainty, and mystery, like the game tells us, because anything could be hiding in the darkness, and anything could happen when that screen is finished loading. It's white's opposite not just in value but in meaning. You don't know what's going on, you just have to wait and see. Any time you might have an answer, or an ending, here comes that loading screen to wipe the slate clean and say “hey, what haven't you found yet? What haven't you tried? What tricks does this game still have up its sleeve?”

(And now I'm thinking about the Figurines ending, and how the Narrator shouts to stop the loading screen, to go back and stay in the familiar please!! Because the fellow hates uncertainty, really he does. But that's a thesis for another day.)

(We also can't forget that Ultra Deluxe's Setting the Time is also set on a black background, and there's always, to me, a sense of foreboding and uncertainty there too. What happens after this is the game, right? Is this for something? Is this doing anything? Is it changing anything?)

Silver

It's a bucket :)

Okay that's the end of this post. There's probably plenty more to say about this subject, this isn't exhaustive by any means. Color is an incredible tool, and visual storytelling and color interpretation is not in any way a science. As I posted bits of this in my server for extra feedback and examples of color, other folks brought up an entirely different interpretation of the color green. And I didn't even bring up Mariella being dressed in full green!

Anyway I didn't bring up orange because there's only a couple instances of it in the game but its always about unfinished things/assets (Baby game, just a lot of Games ending things) but it also shows up in the TSP2 Expo (Button That Says The Name of the Player Playing The Game (Jim)) for features that uuuuuh. Aren't done. So that's funny.

Like I said, there's almost certainly more to say about color theory and the game, but this thing is hitting 4 pages long and that's not including images oops.

I hope this was a fun read! Some of this stuff has been percolating in my brain for a while and it's good to finally get it on the page. Talk to me about TSP I love this game.

[dreamscapesofimagination]

I Can't Stop You From Running

Reminder: Chapter 1 of "The Good, The Bad, The Dirty" is out on Wattpad today! It is a detroit:become human fanfiction with Connor x human reader. You don't really need to know the game to check it out, please just give it a chance, DBH is my FAVORITE game of all time and I adore connor! was listening to Save My Soul by Jonah Kagen while writing this! I've been very busy and have also bren struggling mentally. I'm fine, I've had MDD and panic disorder for years and have a great support system, great meds, and have learned to handle them well. Due to the election results and now the inauguration I spiraled a bit and so all my extra energy went into getting myself back on track. Hoping to post more frequently!

Inspired by: the hands that cradled your face and tilted it upwards to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood.

I don't know where the original is from, but it inspired me as I imagine even when displaying softness Alan can't help but think of what he's done.

--------------

You weren't sure why you had done it.

Your finger had clicked the 'call' button before your brain had slowed down enough to process what you were doing.

The images from your dream- your nightmare- rushed through your head, a kicked dog chasing its own tail again. And again. And again.

The ringing only caused your heart to hammer faster, and you quickly hit the end button.

Stupid, of course he wouldn't answer. It was two am, he was sleeping.

Your eyes focused on the shadows dancing through the window. Sleep was far from your mind, closer to an anxiety attack than sweet dreams.

What would they do when you became a Kyklos? Would they imprison you, study you? You figured Yuri would have few qualms about it, your only comfort being that Jiro seemed to like you enough to care.

And how would they react? Would they mourn? Would they move on, chalk you up as another casualty to be recorded as a statistic, lumped in with all the others studied in Anomalous Epidemiology?

A spike of cold fear stabbed through you as your phone rang.

You scrambled, grabbing it and answering.

"Hello?" Breath rushed from your body at the sound of Alan's voice.

"Hi, um. Sorry if I woke you, I just..." you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment, "I had a bad dream and uh. I just... needed to hear someone's voice."

A beat of silence had a whole new type of anxiety clawing up your throat. What the fuck were you doing?

"I was up anyway, couldn't sleep..." Alan's voice trailed off for a moment as if he were searching for something to say.

"I'm doing some paperwork. If you want you could come here?" his voice peaked in uncertaintly.

You found yourself nodding, though he couldn't see you.

"Yeah, I think I'd like that."

And so a routine was set. When you had a nightmare, you would call Alan. You discovered he seemed to sleep very little. He was doing paperwork, working out, working on a car, or watching old movies when you called.

He never pressed. Never asked you to tell him what terrors were haunting your sleep. Just quietly accepted your presence, allowed you the space to feel better. Before you knew it, you started falling asleep curled up on an old chair he had in his room.

He never pressed, never touched you. His presence was quiet, reliable- safe.

This night you were sat beside him as some old american movie played on the screen before you.

Tonight it was harder to shake the dread that had woken you.

You could sense the concern from all around you. You could see the paleness to your face, the dark circles beneath your eyes, the bitten cuticles, limp hair. Anyone who saw you would know you hadn't been sleeping much.

You worried the skin of your lower lip, gaze going through the television and beyond.

Alan could tell you were not there beside him.

"I get them too."

His voice was like a lighthouse, leading you safely from the storm of your thoughts, back to the safe harbour that was the space beside him.

You blinked at him, "what?"

He glanced at you before turning his gaze back to the tv.

"Nightmares. Most nights they wake me up. Hard to sleep when I know that I'll have one."

Your eyes dropped to your hands. Silence lapsed.

And then-

"I think I'm seeing what's going to happen to me."

Alan turned his head to watch you carefully.

"What do you mean?"

"I feel myself change in the dreams. I feel the most unimaginable pain, and before I know it I'm no longer in control of myself. It's like-" your voice cracked, tears falling before you had realized they had gathered in your eyes, "-it's like my soul is paralyzed, like my body was hijacked. I see the people I care about staring, screaming. And then I see their corpses. And I know, I know that I did it. I killed them."

Your chest heaved a sob as Alan stared at you.

And then you felt him shift.

He tentatively pulled you toward himself, wrapping you up in his arms, body stiff against you as if he was unsure what he was doing.

You gripped his shirt. allowing yourself to break apart. Weeks of little sleep and intense fear had made you fragile, and here you were, falling to pieces.

Feeling safe to do so because you knew Alan was there, and Alan was good at fixing things. He would piece you together again.

He held you as you cried. He never said it would be okay. He didn't speak.

After that night, much of your time was spent at Vagastrom. Other students noticed that something was different between you and the captain. Whispers sprang up, and try as you might, it was hard to deny that the air between you was different. Despite the way you both spent much of the night together, and how once quiet comraderie had become quiet talks about anything and everything (though you both avoided bringing up your nightmares again)- you would not admit how you felt, too afraid to lose the fragile friendship you had built, to scare Alan away.

You had gotten pretty good at ignoring the way your heart hammered everytime you saw Alan, as if it were trying to break free from your chest and fly to his hands, knowing it would be safe with him. Knowing it was his.

There wasn't enough time for that, anyway. The way things were going, your curse would not be lifted. Getting all of the ghouls to cooperate was akin to herding cats- though even that would be easier given the intelligence of the campus cats.

It was hard to blame them. They each had their own pasts, and had their own ambitions. You found it odd that your fate had been placed in their hands anyway- were the faculty incapable of figuring this out? More and more you expected that saving you was not the goal of Darkwick, as if they had a vested interest in you becoming a Kyklos.

You turned to your side, trying to force the thought from your mind.

Tonight, Alan had to go on a mission. You had been assigned to assist Yuri in an experiment- which had turned into Yuri ordering you and Jiro to collect some specimen from Jabberwock (much to the dismay of Haru, though he seemed a bit happier when Jiro mentioned that they just needed a blood sample, and had no intention of harming the creature). By the end of the day you were tired, irate, and thinking about how much you would like to wring Yuri's neck. You had looked forward to crawling into bed and sleeping, nightmares be damned.

And yet, sleep would not come.

Your fingers twiddled at a loose string on your blanket as you stared into the room, begging your brain to shut down for the night.

Groaning, you sat up, accepting that you were unlikely to sleep for the forseable future. You padded down the stairs, deciding that maybe a cup of tea would help your mind quiet.

Your eyes stared listlessly at the electric kettle as it boiled.

A knock at the door broke your disassociation, a startled yelp leaving your lips before your heart settled.

With quiet steps you krept to the door, opening it and gasping as you took in the ghoul before you.

Alan was disheveled, and covered in blood. Blood that you assumed was not his due to the lack of any major visible wounds.

He stared at you for a moment, jaw working as if he were trying to say something, eyes wide like a frightened animal.

Your hand grasped his, feeling the blood stain as you pulled him inside.

He put up no resistance, seeming to deflate once he crossed the threshold.

Wordlessly, you led him to the bathroom. You unbuttoned his vest, tossing the stained article into the tub before doing the same with his shirt.

You turned the sink on, wetting a cloth once it was warm and beginning to run it over his bloodied knuckles.

All the while, Alan watched. Your only sign that he was coming back to himself was the slowing of his breaths.

And finally, "I don't deserve you."

It was quiet, as if to himself.

You paused, watching him carefully, holding still as if he would dart at any moment, sink into himself and draw away from you.

His eyes finally rose to you, meeting your gaze with his own, empty devastation behind lifeless amber eyes.

"I'm... I'm not good," he choked out, staring at you, unblinking.

"All I can do is hurt," Alan shifted to move away from you, pull his hands away.

You tightened your grip, and the ghoul froze, as if he didn't have the strength to pull away.

Showing you how little he actually wanted to leave.

It was the first time you had seen Alan look so fragile, as if he would crumble at the slightest brush of wind. Fall apart at your voice.

"Alan," your voice was gentle, carefully drawing him back, back to you, away from the doubts that plagued him.

"You are the one who comforted me every night, who never expected me to be okay or to talk about what's going on," your hands moved to cradle his face, thumbs trailing over his cheekbones.

His eyes fluttered closed, savoring your touch.

"I-" before Alan could speak, you brushed your lips against his, effectively stealing his breath as his eyes flew open, staring at you.

And then he surged forward, pressing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss.

You felt dampness on your cheeks. unsure if it was from your tears or his.

There you sat, clinging to one another as if you'd drift apart otherwise, lost in the space of infinite loneliness.

[tagidearte]

"Pongo, the Imp Clown. Some say he used to be a Star, others say that's just his delusional ramblings." -Original Character for a (so far) unnamed Original Story.

I'm still in the early stages of designing him and his "friend" Pinga. However, I decided to share these initial drafts regardless! This way someone other than me can join in on the character design journey! Let's see how much he changes until the final design! Thoughts below.

Concept Log #1 - Pongo

Aka I want to ramble and my friends don't care robot clowns. Really big rambly rant below.

Also no, this is not a d/ca oc. Trust me, making a robot clown/jester is like walking into a laser trap when you've been obsessing over those two for the past three years. The only d/ca inspiration here was making Pongo warm coloured and Pinga cool coloured. If anything, this was more inspired by the Funtimes.

For now, I hate all the outfits. They don't fit his vibe, his personality, his whole persona. He's an imp clown, but he has... Delusions of grandeur. I need to make him more princely, perhaps? I'll attempt that next time. I already have the chibi base, so it'll be relatively quick.

I also want to make his casing... Different. Either paler with pink shadows, or a darker, more solid pink. He's meant to have only warm colours, contrasting with Pinga (you'll see him some other time) who only has cold ones, so no blues or greens... But I must say. Darker pink will probably win. When I painted his face white it looked too much like a Slay Button En/nard. In fact, I added all that eye and lip makeup to make him look less like En/nard.

The coil torso is the most important part. On a final drawing I'll make it have more loops, which should give the impression the thing is stronger and capable of more powerful bounces (which can hurt you if he decides to launch) - but for these concepts I merely half assed it. The star shaped hat with the back cone coming out is my favourite part!

Hope you enjoy his star shaped nipple coverings as much as I did coming up with them! Originally (not pictured here) he was going to have a big star on his chest, to mimic what I see in a lot of jack in a box's boxes. But the nipple coverings were so raunchy and funny, yet still appropriate for younger audiences (in world), that I left them in. Him being a reformed villain (in the media he's built after, inside the world) allows for messing around with the makeup and eccentricity, but we can't go to far - he needs to look PG while being predominantly adult/teen entertainment as an amusement park bot.

For context... Ever since I got into FN4F I've wanted to do something similar - with a location and mascots -, but instead of an USA animal band, I wanted it to be based on a cartoon set in a magical forest (like Noddy from my childhood - with a city of living toys and two imps that lived in the eViL wOoDs-, but funny for all ages rather than so 5 year old centric). Overtime, the thought of sentient robots forced to work - objects that were given a soul, trapped in a synthetic shell that is their body, dependent on humanity and property to it despite technically being alive, easy to manipulate via some changes in code - wormed itself in.

But I never really had the proper setting or characters for it. That, and I have another original story that has plagued my dreams ever since I was 12/13.

Until now.

I won't go into setting details yet. Let me just say Pinga and Pongo are a ping pong pun, because they both bob up and down with coils - Pongo on his torso, which makes him kind of like a jack in a box; and Pinga on his legs, which allows him to jump really high. They are based on cartoon characters that exist in world, from a movies series that ended up with a cartoon too, sort of like disney stuff but... Not disney. The entire mythos of that company's content takes place in one single world/franchise, it just explores different parts of it with each new series/movie/game.

Pongo is an egomaniac, programmed the be flirty to adults, who struggles on the line between property and self. He used to give a lot of trouble to the park, because his AI allowed him to learn new tricks rather quickly... and most weren't really all that safe or appropriate. So, time and time again, he got sent back to fix it. Having his "brain" messed with has made him deeply afraid of not behaving like a machine, which clashes with how self pleasing he is - you just don't realize it at first, because he's programmed to be a flirty little demon with an attitude. It's just that his real attitude is much more... intense.

Let's see if posting this online makes me not put the project aside too quickly lmao.