#I started this forever ago and I’m finally just chucking it at the world | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shyvioletcat · 3 years ago

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All I Want

Thanks to the anon who sent this in. Based on the song All I Want by Kodaline. I hope you like it. It's a bit rough around the edges though but I hope it still passes the test.

~~~~~

Rowan had been playing a dangerous game. His friendship with Aelin Galathynius had been a happy accident, one that hadn’t started out easily but eventually had transformed his life. Aelin was all fire and spirit and Rowan was a fool to fight what he felt for so long. She was now his best friend, the person that he went to with every good and bad thing life threw at him. His best friend who had lit up his life had received an opportunity of a lifetime and was now following her dreams and moving halfway across the world. His best friend that he had fallen in love with.

Rowan had gone and lost the game.

This wasn’t just a crush, not some fleeting infatuation that he would be able to talk himself out of. This was a love Rowan felt deep in his soul and it shook him to his very core. How could it not? Aelin had changed him, he’d been a sorry bastard before he met her. Life had dealt him a poor hand and instead of rising above it he had let it drag him down into a pit so dark he no longer saw the point in fighting. Then Aelin appeared, such a bright light and she had reached for him even when he pushed her away again and again. She had helped him out of the dark and he had fallen in love with her for it.

He watched her now, as she flitted around his room, packing the last of her things. A few months ago after an ugly breakup Aelin had arrived knocking on his door late one night asking for a place to stay. Unable to deny her Rowan had instantly let her in, much to the dismay of his roommate. But Lorcan wasn’t a hard enough man to kick her out, so for months she had lived with him here in this little room, sleeping in his bed and stealing his clothes. They had been some of the happiest months of his life.

“I’m taking this, by the way,” Aelin held up a green t-shirt of his, proving his point. “I’ve decided I need it.”

Rowan rolled his eyes at her from where he sat on the bed, but it had no bite. She could take anything she wanted. All he wanted was for her to take him, his body, his soul, the life he had left to live. He wanted to share every moment with her forever. Who was he kidding… Aelin already owned every part of him and she didn’t even know it.

She stuffed that item of clothing into her suitcase and zipped it up, putting her hands on her hips to survey her handiwork. As Rowan looked at her the words were on the tip of his tongue. So easily he could tell her how he felt, and maybe by some chance Aelin might feel the same. But then what would happen? She was leaving in a matter of hours, would he expect her to stay? Would she want to? This adventure she was setting out on was an adventure of a lifetime. Working as an editor to an author she admired, Rowan was not about to ruin that for her. He wouldn’t be that cruel—instead he would accept his own cruel fate.

“Ah, perfect timing,” Aelin said, checking her phone. “Aedion is here. Chuck anything else you find in a box and my Dad will pick it up.”

“Yeah, okay,” Rowan replied, not saying that he hated to see her go.

Aelin smiled at him. “I’m sure you’ll be glad to see me go.”

Rowan shook his head, “Never, Aelin.”

“Liar,” she accused and then she launched herself at him, arms thrown around his neck.

Rowan held her close—not wanting to let her go. He had to, he had to for her own happiness.

“Goodbye, Rowan,” Aelin said, her voice muffled from being pressed into his shoulder. He died a little on the inside at the gentle farewell.

“Goodbye, Aelin.” There was a heartbreaking finality to his words.

Aelin pulled back and in a matter of minutes she was gone, having given him a final wave from the doorway. All Rowan had done was sit back down on his bed and dwell in the silence of his room. He didn’t know how long he’d sat there, misery weighing heavily on him. Day turned into night and his thoughts turned just as dark. Aelin would have called him dramatic. But she had brought out the best of him, a part he had never seen before. Rowan hoped for everyone’s sake he wouldn’t lose it now Aelin was gone.

All he wanted was nothing more than to hear her knocking at his door like she had once before.

“What are you doing?”

Rowan’s head snapped up to see Lorcan standing in his doorway. “Piss off.”

“Piss off yourself,” Lorcan replied. “I don’t even know what you’re doing here.”

“What?”

“You're just going to destroy yourself again, when the answer is simple. Go and get her,” Lorcan said.

What Lorcan had said caught Rowan entirely off guard. Lorcan was not Aelin’s biggest fan, he didn’t even like the woman. And for him to encourage Rowan to chase after her…

“I’ll not watch that again. Regardless of my own feelings, she’s the one for you. Don’t let her leave without telling her how you feel,” Lorcan explained even though admitting it looked like it caused him some amount of pain.

Rowan felt his stomach sink, this was just yet another example of his stupidity. “You’re right. Gods, you’re right.”

Rowan snatched up his wallet and keys, his phone already in his pocket. Each second of drive to the airport was torture and he prayed to every god that was listening that her plane hadn’t left. It all passed in a blur but soon enough he was parking his car, fumbling with his keys to lock it, and then he was running.

The way he ran through the airport was made for a film screen. He was flying as fast as his feet would carry him, trying his hardest not to ram into the people around him. A few times his shoulder knocked with another’s and Rowan apologised before he moved on. Security slowed him down the most but he used that time to check the screens around him for Aelin’s gate. 2A, she would be boarding her plane at gate 2A.

With his few belongings handed back to him, Rowan was running again. He had to reach her, this was his chance. His only chance. Holding true to the film like saga Rowan found himself in, Aelin’s flight was called for final boarding. The signage for the right gate lit up in front of him and Rowan ran, hoping Aelin had waited until the end to board like she usually did.

Then he saw her, fiddling with her earphones and nearly at the front of the line. Aelin looked around, a small smile on her face. That smile faltered a little as she saw him, and then it spread wider. She stepped out of line, coming towards him with her carry-on luggage rolling behind her. Rowan was out of breath and panting when he stopped before her.

“Did I forget something?” She asked and Rowan just shook his head. “Then what—”

“I love you, Aelin,” Rowan said. “I love you, with all that I am.”

There was a horrifying moment of silence where she just gaped at him.

“Rowan, I—” this time she shook her head.

“I should have told you earlier, I was an idiot not to,” Rowan’s voice was getting stronger with every word. “I’ve loved you longer than I should have and I couldn't let you go without saying something.”

“You are an idiot,” Aelin said. “I… you waited until now?”

“I’m sorry,” Rowan breathed as the full weight of what he was doing crashed down on him. “I should have told you earlier.”

“You think?” Aelin’s tone carried a hint of bitterness. “Now?”

“Please, Aelin—“

“I have to go,” Aelin cut him off. Rowan saw the tears in her eyes as she looked up at him. “I have to go.”

She turned and Rowan felt his heart fracture, getting deeper with every step she took away from him. And then she stopped, and Rowan’s heart stuttered into a frantic beat as he waited for her to turn around a look at him, just one last time just so he could get some hint of what she felt.

She didn’t though, Aelin just shook her head again and kept walking. Rowan could only watch as she handed over her boarding pass and walked out of his life. She had been gone from his sight for a few minutes before he could rouse himself to move. All the adrenaline left his body and the walk back to his car was slow. Aelin was gone, Rowan had lost the gamble he’d taken and felt like he might pay for it for the rest of his life.

~~~~~

It had been weeks since Aelin had left and Rowan hadn’t heard from her. In the first few days he’d sent her some texts and received no reply. He had to check in with Aedion to see that she had arrived in Antica safely. She had, but evidently she just didn’t want to speak to him. Rowan was now only existing on instinct. He went to work when he had to, ate when needed to, but once again the motivational spark from his life was gone. At night he would lie in the now too empty bed and cry. By morning those tears would dry by morning and he would do it all again. He was functioning, if only just barely.

Tonight his bed was once again the place of choice to wallow in his misery. Rowan’s stomach was aching a little telling him that it was time to find something for dinner. Lorcan had been kind enough to feed him if was home, but tonight his roommate had taken his girlfriend out on a date. Thinking about that had led Rowan to a thought he was working hard to banish, but the truth of it kept it stuck. It was like a splinter he couldn’t remove as it dug into his skin and stung.

If he could only see her face one more time Rowan might be all right. Maybe it would be enough for him so he could let her go completely and do what he needed to do. All he needed to do was find somebody like Aelin and more on.

Rowan was kidding himself, he never would. No one would ever take her place—no one would ever compare to who Aelin was.

The apartment was so silent that he easily heard the knocking on the door. Rowan left it for a bit not caring enough to get up, but then it started again and more urgently. There was a chance whoever was at the door wouldn’t go away until they got an answer so Rowan pushed himself off the bed and left the dark solitude of his room.

As predicted the knocking did not stop, Rowan murmuring, “I’m coming, I’m coming,” as he walked through the apartment.

Whoever was banging on the door was going to get an earful as the wooden slab practically shook on the hinges. Rowan grabbed the door handle and swung the door open, ready to lay ino the unfortunate person on the other side.

“What do you—” Rowan stumbled back when he saw who was waiting for him. “Aelin?”

She was a few steps away, breathing hard as she glared up at him. Aelin looked angry and Rowan suspected that he would be the one to get told off before she surprised him by storming over to him and pulling him down by the collar—kissing him hard on the mouth.

“I love you, too,” she said, pulling away just enough so she could get the words out. “I love you too, you absolute idiot.”

Rowan was stunned, then he was leaning down to kiss her again and she willingly let him.

“What are you doing here?” Rowan breathed, not quite believing she was here.

“I’m here for you,” Aelin told him.

Rowan stood straighter so he could look at Aelin and read her face. “You never said a word, I texted you and… but you’re here?”

“Well, having you confess your love for me moments before I had to get on a flight was a lot to take in and I needed a little time to think,” Aelin explained. “And I was terrified. I’ve loved you for a long time, Rowan. I was scared that if I said anything it would ruin what we had and then you confessed first and I just panicked. Because I still didn’t want to ruin our friendship if we jumped into this too quickly. And chasing after me at the very last second was a bit of a dick move.”

Rowan let out a nervous laugh. “It was, wasn’t it. To shift the blame, Lorcan told me to do it.”

Aelin tipped her head back and her laugh was full and the sound revived something in Rowan’s soul. “Of course he did.”

“What about your job?” Rowan asked, still holding Aelin close like bringing up the thing that had taken her from him in the first place might whisk her away again.

Aelin’s hands twined together behind his neck. “Turns out my most favourite author is a bit of a bastard to work with so took advantage of the grace period in my contract and left.”

“To come back?” Rowan said, hope swelling in his chest.

Aelin nodded. “To come back home, to you.”

Rowan couldn’t help it, he swept Aelin into another. As his world righted itself, clarity hit him. This woman in his arms, she was all he would ever want. And he would work his hardest to never lose her again.

~~~~~

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#rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan just being a bit dumb for however many words #I dunno this isn't that great but I guess it's just okay

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malfoysstilinski · 4 years ago

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Can you a Draco Smut where he gets bored and literally just decides to make out with and suck your clit slowly like lazily and teases you into an orgasm?

bored | draco malfoy smut 18+

draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary: draco’s bored so he decides to eat you out

warnings: 18+, smut, oral (female receiving), degradation?, really cute boyfriend!draco

word count: 2.1k

For some reason, lessons today felt like they had dragged on for far too long. Snape’s monotone voice had only drowned you deeper into a pit of boredom from where you sat at the back of his DADA lesson during the last period of the day, hoping that time would just speed up so you could spend your Friday evening with your boyfriend.

And finally the time came where Snape eventually dismissed the class, but not without a pile of homework and a stern message about the N.E.W.T exams quickly approaching. You didn’t even want to think about any of that right now; N.E.W.T level DADA would be the death of you, you were sure of that much.

“Come on pretty girl,” Draco whispered, his arm tucking around your shoulders, your head leaning on his shoulder slightly as you left the classroom. “You can nap in my room, or read - whatever you want.”

You smiled at that - you loved Draco’s room. He was a prefect, not to mention a Malfoy, so he got special privileges; one of them being a room all to himself. His double bed was far comfier than the single you had in your dormitory, which was where you found yourself five minutes later.

Your robe had been ditched; chucked somewhere onto the floor before Draco could even enter the room. You collapsed onto his bed, lying horizontally across the bottom half and staring up at the ceiling as you heard a huff come from Draco. You craned your head in time to see him swipe your uniform off the floor.

Draco didn’t even bother to scold you anymore - no matter how many times he said it, you always forgot his ‘nothing but feet on the floor’ policy. It sort of surprised you when you found out how tidy he was — much more organised than you, who couldn’t even be bothered to take your shoes off.

You wiggled your legs which were dangling off the end of the mattress and Draco rolled his eyes, finishing folding your robe and placing it on the back of his desk chair before moving over to your feet. His hand grabbed the back of your heel and he began to undo the laces of your school shoes, staring at you in amusement.

“You have me running around like a House-Elf for you,” he huffed.

You grinned up at him, lifting your head so you could see him properly. “I know,” you chirped.

Draco finally got both your shoes off, your toes wiggling in your tights as they thanked you for finally releasing them from their tight confidements. You watched your blond boyfriend move around the room to place your shoes neatly by the door before he peeled his robes and shoes off too, putting them away also tidily.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty, darling,” Draco muttered, shooting you a look as he climbed onto his bed, his back against the headboard as he grabbed his book off of the bedside table. “You gonna sleep?”

“No, just lay here,” you murmured back, your fingers fiddling with the detail of his silk bed covers. “I just want to… reflect on my day.”

“Oh, that meditation thing you’ve been doing?” Draco hummed, not lifting his eyes from his book as he stretched his legs out, them resting by your head from where you were curled up at the bottom of his bed.

“Reflecting is not necessarily meditating, Draco,” you reminded him for the hundredth time. “Just because you have no thoughts whatsoever.”

“I have no thoughts?” Draco glanced over, raising his eyebrows at you.

You giggled. “Yeah - I bet it’s just lift music in your head.”

“Lift music?” Draco repeated, confused.

Your eyes lit up - another fact you could give him. You loved how confused he looked whenever you told him about the other world he had grown up despising. You adored the way he asked questions and pretended not to be interested sometimes.

“A lift is a Muggle invention. It’s a metal box thing that replaces stairs sometimes; you get in, press which floor you want and it takes you up or down,” you explained to him, “And there is music inside it sometimes. And it’s really slow and…” You noticed the weird look on Draco’s face, your voice fading away. “Never mind.”

“I don’t get it,” Draco hummed before turning back to his book.

It made you giggle and shake your head. You closed your eyes soon after, just thinking. About Draco, about the homework Snape had set you, the Hogsmeade trip you planned to go on with Pansy next weekend…

You can feel his eyes on you.

Your own peel open and you turn to face him. “What?”

“My book’s shit,” he admitted.

“You’re halfway through it.”

“Yeah, and it’s shit.”

You frowned, your eyes moving from his face to the cover of said shit book. “I recommended that to you,” you pouted slightly.

“Which is why, as you can see, I’ve tried to like it - but I can’t,” Draco said, placing the book back down onto the bedside table. “It’s boring. And I’m bored.”

“How?” You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Classes literally ended twenty minutes ago max.”

Draco shot you a look. “So? I’m still bored.”

“Too bad, I’m -”

“You’re meditating, I know.”

“It’s not - Ugh, whatever. Yes, I’m meditating, so leave me alone,” you replied, rolling your eyes before closing them yet again.

There was more silence. Draco seemed to respect your wishes, not saying another word. All you could feel was the silk sheets beneath your body, all you could smell was Draco’s scent and the fresh fragrance of his bed covers, and all you could hear was the sound of your breathing and Draco’s - as well as the sound of him adjusting himself on the bed a little bit.

You wished you could stay like this forever. After the long day you’d just had, this was the perfect way to end it. Maybe some cuddles from Draco would make it better, but that could come a bit later, maybe after dinner.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt a weight above your legs. Your eyes cracked open and you glanced down, your brows furrowing at Draco. He wasn’t even looking at your face, he didn’t say a word, but he reached for your skirt and flipped it above your stomach, pulling your tights and panties down in one go.

“Draco -” You were cut off by his cold finger sliding up through your folds.

“Shh,” Draco muttered, still not even glancing at you, too focused on what was between your legs. “Go back to your meditating. I’m just… entertaining myself.”

You couldn’t complain with that. You found yourself complying, your head tilting back so you were facing the ceiling, your eyes closing. You weren’t really wet, much to Draco’s dismay, but you soon felt him spitting on your clit and felt it drip down your folds. His fingers slid it around, knocking purposefully at your bundle of nerves and causing arousal to spike through you.

When you felt yourself begin to get wet, your clit throbbing beneath his lazy, aimless touch, you couldn’t help but open your eyes, glancing down at him. He wasn’t even sitting between your legs - just beside you, his hand reaching for your cunt like he was half-heartedly playing some sort of game.

Draco’s silver eyes were entranced by your cunt, his fingers experimenting as they changed direction, moved about, all so agonisingly slow. After a minute of the torturous pace, his eyes flickered up to you and he lifted his hand towards your face.

“Wanna taste?” He asked as if he was talking about sharing food.

You opened your mouth anyway, two of Draco’s fingers slipping inside. You sucked around his digits, your tongue being invaded by your own taste - a taste that Draco insisted he could never get enough of. He pulled his hand away when you were done, looking back down at your cunt and beginning to rub again.

“Draco,” you whispered desperately as he hit the right place.

He glanced back up at you, smirking a little. “Does it feel good?” He murmured, voice deep and barely above a whisper.

“Mhm,” you mumbled back, eyes clenching shut again.

His mouth touching your cunt nearly made you jump. Everything about what he was doing was so lazy, as if he had all the time in the world and he wasn’t there to make you cum but to just satisfy his own boredom and curiosity. Maybe that was the only reason he was touching you like this, but either way, you liked it. You liked the teasing nature of the whole thing, even though it was tortuous how slowly his tongue came out to lick up your folds.

Everything inside you wanted to wither and grab at his hair and tug, begging him to go faster, but you refrained; your hands remained gripping the sheets beside you, your small whimpers that made Draco’s cock hard filling his bedroom.

His mouth was wet, a mixture of his own spit and your arousal, as it wrapped around your bundle of nerves, your back nearly arching as he began to suck softly. Your breath hitched, not used to the aimlessness of it all. It almost felt careless, but his hand on your thigh said otherwise as his thumb stroked circles against your skin.

Your lips pursed together, a moan threatening to leave your mouth as Draco sucked, his aristocratic-like lips working idly. His tongue peeked to swipe across you and this time your stomach clenched, your legs nearly clamping around his head. But Draco’s grip on your thigh tightened a bit in warning.

“Draco, please…” You whimpered, one hand going down to gently grasp at his platinum locks.

His head pulled away with your hand still in his hair, much to your dismay. He leaned his head against your thigh, staring down at your dripping cunt. His finger moved towards it and he circled your swollen clit, feeling your legs tremble slightly beneath him. Then his thumb came out and he rubbed it in small figure of eights, his breath still fanning you from where he used your thigh as a pillow.

“So pretty…” Draco muttered.

You swore if he didn’t start acting like his usual rough self then you were going to start crying. It was agonising, the way he seemed to not care. In a way, it felt degrading - like this was for him and not for you, and it only made you soak his fingers even further.

Draco’s mouth dived back in for your clit. It was like he was making out with it, his lips capturing it and sucking, his teeth grazing it slightly just to hear your small hisses and loud whimpers. His nose nuzzled against your mound, his hands still on your thighs.

When you looked down, all you could see was the slow bobbing of his head. His tongue was unmatched, skillful and taunting, slow and painful, and you would do anything to cum right now. Anything.

You could feel the tightening sensation in your stomach, your brain growing fuzzier and fuzzier as you acted with your hormones rather than your brain. Your hand gripped his hair tighter, your hips rolling for more, faster friction. You half-expected Draco to pull away from you and warn you to keep still, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m gonna cum,” you admitted breathlessly.

Draco hummed against you, the vibrations making you cry out a little. You lifted your head back up to look down at him, finding his eyes already concentrated on you as he sucked your clit, rolling the knot between his tongue gently. You moaned loudly.

“Fuck, I’m cumming,” you hissed quickly before your orgasm washed over you.

Draco helped you ride it out, his tongue lapping up every wave of arousal, his hands still brushing your thighs comfortingly. He even groaned around your clit, encouraging you as you rolled your hips, your legs trembling even harder. His name slipped past your lips several times as well as some curses, before you were left breathing heavily on the mattress.

A whine left you when Draco didn’t stop kissing your cunt. “Draco…” You jerked beneath him slightly. “I’m sensitive.”

“I’m bored,” he murmured back as he pulled away, his fingers working at your clit and making you yell out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

You knew for certain now; this was never about pleasing you, it was always about satisfying himself - and you knew you weren’t going to be let off the hook anytime soon.

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#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy smut #harry potter #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco #malfoy

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lottiethroughthelookingglass · 4 years ago

Text

15x20 Coda

Can’t believe it’s the year of our Lord 2020 and I’m writing Supernatural fix it fics at 3am.... This truly is the bad place. Anyway here’s what happened immediately after the credits rolled on whatever that was...

“Sam and Dean stood, arms around each other looking out towards the vista. Heaven. Their heaven. United again, after everythi-“

“-Is he for real?”

“That’s what was saved on my computer. Supernatural – Final Draft.”

“This is bullshit.”

Becky shrugged, taking her laptop back from Sam as his face twitched uncomfortably.

“Who did I even marry? Like, it wasn’t even Eileen?”

“I don’t know man but you named your kid after me. I’m holding you to that one.”

“I don’t even want kids. Our lives are crazy. Why would I do that to a kid?”

“Well I’m just glad Chuck didn’t get to go ahead with that one.” Becky said, sitting back down with her laptop, “I mean all of his drafts were honestly terrible but that one… I mean it didn’t even make sense considering your character arcs. Dean literally died like he thought he would at the beginning of the series and Sam, grows old with a random woman and doesn’t do anything with his life and not even mentioning Cas even though he was right there in heaven-“

Becky looked up to find Sam and Dean staring at her.

“I’m sorry, not that you guys are just characters or anything. But just, when I came back and I found that I was really worried you’d actually died in barn because you fell on a nail.”

“Yeah well I will be avoiding all barns from now on.”

Thunk. The three of them looked up to where Cas had knocked over a Funko Pop Sam.

“Sorry,” Cas readjusted Funko Sam so he could go back to back to fighting Funko Crowley.

There was an awkward moment of silence as the group processed the revelation of Chuck’s ending. Becky sipped her tea as Cas sat back down next to Dean. Dean looked over to him, their eyes met briefly and they shared a small smile.

“Did I never even ask about Cas?” Sam shook his head breaking the silence. “Like, you come back from fighting Billie and say he’s dead and I just… never question it?”

“Well, none of you seemed very upset about my death in that story.” He turned back to Dean, “You were far more concerned with the pie and the dog.”

“To be fair that was probably the only thing that felt right there – pie is more important.”

Cas rolled his eyes and picked up another biscuit from the tray Becky had brought them. Ever since becoming human again he’d picked up a real sweet tooth. Dean was silently waiting for when Sam would start having a go at him too about healthy diets.

Like hell I’m going because of a rusty nail in a barn, Dean thought, I’m getting killed by a heart attack and Cas’s gonna die of diabetes. Sammy’ll still get to outlive us both though.

“It’d be nice to think Jack is doing that with heaven though.” Sam said, “You know, rebuilding things, making it actually good.”

“I guess we’ll have to see when we get there. Which will not be soon, we fought for a bit of peace and I’m intending to actually enjoy mine.”

“We can just ask him next time he’s home.” Cas added.

Dean shook his head stifling a laugh with his hand, “Can you imagine if we’d made him God I mean- He’s three for crying out loud. He made me buy him a Marvellous Marvin the Talking Teddy three months ago.”

“You bought him that?”

“Wait so Jack didn’t become God?”

“God no, no he’s not God.” Dean plucked the biscuit Cas had just picked up out of his hand and started to eat it, “I mean he is up in heaven, but he’s just helping Michael get things running again with all the angels back from the Empty.”

“I’m confused, so you didn’t kill Chuck?”

“Noash fukind matr-“

“Chuck’s gone, but he’s not dead.” Sam interrupted the garbled explanation Dean was trying to make through a mouthful of cookie. “We found a way to umm- bind him I guess? In his own mind so he didn’t even know it was happening. Rowena and I did the spell and Dean set the trap.”

“I was still as useless as in Chuck’s version.” Cas clarified taking another biscuit to make up for his stolen one.

“Hey, if you hadn’t saved me from Billie we’d all have been toast. You were key.”

“Wait so Chuck’s not human and he’s not dead?”

“No- God I can’t believe he made himself human. I can’t believe we made him human and then said that was a punishment – sorry, no he’s kind of in a uhhh…”

“Alternate universe.” Sam added, “but one just for him. It’s more like an alternative plane of reality inside his own mind where he can write whatever stories he wants and think they’re real but they’re not. They can’t hurt anyone.”

“But he’s God so…. They might be real? He could be making them real.”

Sam twisted his mouth thinking, it was something he’d considered but didn’t want to dwell on.

“Well it’s not us.” Dean declared, “And honestly, if he makes another world with other Sams and Deans and Cas’s and Jacks then they’ll defeat him some other way. Like Inception, but with God!” He grinned at his reference even as the rest of the room ignored him.

Becky leant back in her armchair letting out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you guys are ok. You too Cas, he was really adamant about killing you off.”

“Dean was very adamant about bringing me back.” Cas looked over to Dean, a soft smile and look of adoration of his face.

Dean blushed, trying to cover it up with a cough. “Yeah well, I had some stuff to say.”

Becky grinned, taking a sip of her tea as Sam suddenly started to find the wallpaper very interesting.

“So, what are you guys going to do know?” Becky asked after the moment had become sufficiently awkward. “I mean no Chuck, no apocalypse, no world to save. Are you going to keep hunting, or…?”

Sam, Dean and Cas looked at each other.

“I don’t know,” Sam said.

“Honestly, I’m thinking Chuck had it right with the pie festival.”

Becky and Sam laughed at that.

Cas took another biscuit

***

Dean closed the boot of the Impala with a soft thud. Becky had given each of them one of her dioramas she sold on Etsy. It was always a bit weird being reminded that their life was a story that some people liked to collect stuff from for fun but he had to admit the miniature scale replica of Baby she’d given him was awesome.

Sam stood at the door giving Becky a hug and thanking her for the lunch. She hadn’t quite explained to the rest of the family who these three strange large men were that were randomly joining them for lunch beyond “They’re just some Supernatural fans I know from the internet.” Her husband had spent the entire time struggling to believe that lie even moreso after Cas had slightly traumatised one of the kids with an in-depth description of the dangers of invasive wasps to honey bee colonies.

Dean wandered over to where Cas stood beside Sam and Becky.

“Thanks again for checking on us Becky.” Dean said, accepting the hug she gave him.

“Of course, I always knew you’d beat him but it’s good to know for sure.”

“Sure is.” Dean took a step back, “Well I guess we’ll be seeing you?”

“Next Supernatural convention?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Even if there’s a ghost?”

“You do know we’re not the only hunters in America.”

Becky bit her lip.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she paused, “it’s just, this is exactly how I would have written it.”

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise, Dean brows knitted as Cas tilted his head.

“I don’t- not that you had to go through all that. Just that now you can actually take a break. Be normal, do your laundry-“

“-Sam and Dean have always done their laundry. That’s how they clean their clothes.” Cas piped up in confusion.

“-Be happy. Get to actually enjoy living in the world you saved. Have free will and be at peace.”

Dean chuckled, “I mean I’m personally good with never doing my laundry. But you’re right, it’s weird but good.”

“We’ll stay in touch Becky.” Sam said.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

They waved their goodbyes and walked back over to the Impala. Dean got in behind the wheel, Sam in shotgun and Cas in the back.

Turning the key the Impala revved to life. The radio began to sing, the opening chords to Kansas’s Carry on Wayward Song filling the car.

Dean slammed the radio off.

“God, I think Chuck has forever ruined that song for me.”

Sam laughed, in the back Cas even let out a chuckle as he leant his head against the window ready for the long drive home.

It wasn’t their heaven. Not yet anyway. And that made it so much more.

#spn fic #spn spoilers #supernatural coda #destiel #destiel fic #deancas #spn #supernatural #spn 15x20 #as you can see i'm not impressed #also becky's gonna be real mad when she gets back from being thanos snapped and runs into sam ten years later at the mall #only to find out that dean died ages ago from a rusty barn nail #that will be her villain origin story #my fic

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thevindicativevordan · 4 years ago

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Why isn't Nightwing a bigger deal? He has all of Batman's skills and Superman's faith in humanity and is arguably the most beloved hero in the DCU, but most people seem to know him either as the leader of the N̶o̶t̶ ̶J̶L̶ Teen Ttians or just Robin.

Thank you for asking me about Nightwing, I've been wanting to write a piece about him for a while now. The short version is that everyone who claims Dick becoming Nightwing was him "moving out of Batman's shadow and becoming his own man" is completely wrong.

Dick Grayson is a fantastic character, someone who saved Bruce Wayne in-universe both by forcing Batman to grow up a bit, and the countless times he saved Batman's life as his partner whether as Robin or Nightwing. Dick saved Batman in the real world as well, hard to believe but Batman was actually in danger of being cancelled due to poor sales early on. Enter Robin, a young daredevil audience stand in the creators hoped would get kids interested in reading Batman. And it worked! Sales on Batman doubled once Robin showed up which is crazy to think about, but Dick Grayson has always been a popular character. Cartoons like Teen Titans, Batman: The Animated Series, and The Batman only helped grow his audience.

Character-wise, Dick Grayson really does fill a number of crucial roles in the DCU. For Batman, Dick is proof that Batman is a positive force. Meeting Batman helped change Dick for the better, helped him heal after his parents died. With Dick, Batman can take comfort in knowing that yes, he has made a difference in the world for at least one orphan boy, which is all he wanted when he lost his parents himself. To the wider DCU, Dick is a friendly face who convinces others that Batman is competent and not a complete asshole. He took this kid in, trained him to be one of the best heroes the DCU has seen, and did it all out of the kindness of his heart. That someone like Dick can confront the evils of Gotham and not break means there's still hope for that city. As Robin, Dick has led the Titans and is an icon in his own right as The Sidekick, the original, the one every other Robin is built around copying or contrasting. The one all other superhero sidekicks are drawing on as a basis. As Robin Dick Grayson is very much on Batman's level.

Just not as Nightwing. As Nightwing, Dick has been a second rate Daredevil which means he's a third rate Batman (fully prepared to get hate for this but I've read and enjoyed the Miller and Bendis DD runs so I feel entitled to my opinion). A typical Nightwing run tends to go like this: Moving to Bludhaven (which is Gotham... but WORSE!), Dick Grayson usually enrolls in a pointless job we don't care about in order to provide some meaningless soap opera drama that doesn't go anywhere. Patrolling the city as Nightwing, he fights a variety of bad guys who are usually rather lame and unthreatening, with his big bad being a Kingpin knockoff called Blockbuster. Villains are fought, long running plotlines are set up, then everything is abandoned because it's Batfamily event time, and Dick has to run back to Gotham in order to play sidekick again. Usually his involvement is completely superfluous and it would've been better if the writer had gotten to opt out. By the time we finally get back to Nightwing's solo plotlines, the audience has usually ceased to care and the run gets cut short.

That's how Nightwing has been since the New 52 at least. Anyone who thinks that's "becoming their own man" is out of their mind. Dick is so thoroughly in Batman's shadow that he got shot in the head and spent a longer time as "Ric" which everyone fucking hated and sold like shit, than he did as Agent Grayson which was extremely well-received. Reiterating: Ric went on longer than Grayson because of a fucking Batman plotpoint Tom King wanted where Bruce was sad and cut off from the Batfamily because of Dick getting shot. Not just calling out King either, how many times was Kyle Higgins Nightwing run derailed because of Scott Snyder's crossovers? Or how about that entire run getting dumped to the side because Johns wanted to out Dick during Forever Evil, a Justice League/Lex Luthor story? DC has repeatedly made their contempt for Nightwing clear, he's Batman's sidekick still in their eyes, and he serves whatever story role the Batman writer wants.

Hell his best stories tend to have been the ones where he's not Nightwing. He was Robin in a good chunk of the Wolfman/Perez New Teen Titans run. Morrison really showcased his depth as a character when they wrote him as Batman, their time with Dick under the cowl was actually one of the first Batman runs I ever read, and no Nightwing run has ever matched it in terms of quality in my humble opinion. Scott Snyder's work with DickBats also was a high point for the character, showing Dick as competent and examining his relationship with Gotham and the Gordons. King and Seeley gave him one of the best comic runs with Grayson, a series where he wasn't even a "superhero" technically! When it comes to actual pre-New 52 Nightwing runs that are highly recommended where he *is* Nightwing, there's Chuck Dixon and uhhhhhhh... Tomasi's brief run before Dick became Batman? It's not exactly an overwhelming list.

Look there has been good work done with Nightwing, I'm not claiming there hasn't been. Tim Seeley wrote a great run with Nightwing Rebirth. Seeley fleshed out Dick's Rogues Gallery with cool new ones like Raptor, he brought back old foes like Dr. Hurt (why oh why couldn't you have brought back Flamingo too?), he gave Dick's world some character it solely needed. Bludhaven under Seeley is pretty much the only time I've really felt like it lived up to being Dick's city.

The problem with fictional cities is you have to put in the work to give them the character of real cities. You have to make the cities feel like characters in their own right. Gotham is the best example of this, it's a character all it's own, one that tells you a lot about Batman and his cast. In contrast Bludhaven is usually one of the worst. Any place that wants to claim to be worse than the city that is built over the gate to hell and gets wrecked every other month by the Arkham freaks has to really put in the work to compete. Simply put, Bludhaven typically fails utterly. There's nothing about it that makes you really buy it's worse than Gotham, I mean does anyone really think Nightwing's Rogues wouldn't get their lunches eaten by Batman's? No, no one genuinely buys that. When Bludhaven claims to be worse, it just comes across as tryhard, an attribute that does end up telling you about Nightwing in unintentional ways.

So Seeley didn't do that. Instead he created a city built for a hero like Dick Grayson. Someone who is bright and flashy, but does have an element of darkness to him. Someone who loves the spotlight, but often uses it to obscure. Seeley turned Bludhaven into Las Vegas, and that was the fucking best concept for Bludhaven I have ever seen, it makes so much sense. Las Vegas is the "Entertainment Capital of the World" and isn't that the perfect city for a hero who got their start working in the circus? Isn't the aesthetics of the gleaming casinos, the glamorous sex appeal of the performers, and the spectacle of the shows, all being used to cover up the seediness of mob bosses meeting backstage perfect for Nightwing? It's so utterly unlike New York City, yet Las Vegas is still dangerous, it's got a crime culture all it's own. Seeley used it to great effect, as did Humphries during his brief run, and I will always be pissed that DC didn't continue to use it. That should have stuck around and been the definitive look for Bludhaven.

How Seeley's take on Bludhaven was treated feels like a small scale version of how Nightwing in general gets treated. Whenever creators pitched ideas for him, if editorial thought there was potential to break big, they asked for those ideas to be repurposed for Batman instead. Anything big or good gets repurposed for Batman or tossed to the side so Nightwing can go back to his default: having irrelevant adventures in a city that is supposedly worse than Gotham but can't live up to it. Just like how Nightwing is supposedly better than Batman but never gets to show it. Goddamn it's so frustrating seeing his potential get wasted like that.

The Nightwing book should be one of DC's most ambitious books in terms of storytelling. You can go from traditional superhero stories, to romantic soap opera, to spy stories, to crime noir, to horror, to cosmic adventures, and ALL of them would fit because Nightwing is someone who has a foot in both Gotham and Metropolis. He's got friends everywhere on every team, and has been a hero longer than most Leaguers have at this point. No reason DC should still be afraid to let him loose and insisting on hewing close to what Dixon established almost over 30 years ago is only holding him back. At the very least get him some better Rogues, why the hell didn't he get to keep Professor Pyg? That's Dick's villain not Bruce's! Bullshit that they didn't let Dick keep him. Hopefully Flamingo comes back, with a slight revamp I think he'd make a great reoccurring Nightwing Rogue.

Luckily it does look somewhat like Nightwing fans have reason to be optimistic. While Taylor isn't to my taste, DC clearly views him as a "big" writer, and that they put him on Nightwing says a lot. Taylor has been selling well so far, so hopefully he gets to tell his story, hilarious that even he lampshaded having to write Dick running over to Gotham for another tie-in after Taylor's big opening arc was all about Dick committing himself and his money to Bludhaven. Scott Snyder is apparently working on a Black Label Nightwing book which will explore how he's a different detective than Bruce. The Gotham Knights video game has him as one of the main stars, and while Titans is... controversial, it's one of the most popular streaming shows and Dick is the main character. There's a lot of content coming that features him in the starring role, and that will only help his star rise further.

For the first time in, well, ever it feels like DC may be serious about elevating him. Time will tell if it pays off, but I for one choose to be optimistic that the 2020s will be a turning point for Dick Grayson where Nightwing becomes hugely popular in his own right. Not just as Batman's sidekick.

#nightwing #dick grayson #batman #gotham knights #titans #dc comics

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sinnabonka · 5 years ago

Text

It’s spec time: Love always wins

(Okay, I promised it, I’m doing it, there’s no stopping me now.)

For the last three days I’ve been all over the place emotionally, clinging to every post saying Cas is not dead dead, saying his story is not done, but then someone wrote the “but” post and, there I go again, down the bottomless pit of angst.

I’ve been a Schrödinger believer for so long with this show, one can get used to it.

I know I’m not the only one feeling this way, regarding whether Cas is coming back or not. We won’t know till we know ©

Ep 19 speculations here

But let's speculate!

Apparently, there's nothing better for me to do way past midnight on Saturday and on Sunday morning (when I’m writing this).

What makes us think 15*18 might indeed be the end of Castiel’s story:

Everything the crew and Misha told us, officially, is pressing toward Cas dying permanently in this scene. “Proud ending”, indeed.

Castiel’s story has the perfect symmetry this way, with the handprint, the “Hello, Dean” - “Goodbye, Dean”, and the whole “Dean Winchester is saved” theme.

He is smiling, while Empty takes him, he’s content with his sacrifice.

Something about Castiel’s monologue didn’t sit right with me for some time. The whole point of happiness being not in having, but in being and saying, gave me an idea of it being the way writers say we can’t have Destiel, but we should be happy to know it’s real and to hear it said aloud after all those years.

Supernatural had to be the story of two brothers and their journey, and Winchesters driving in the sunset is the most probable endgame we are gonna get.

Even though all those points seem valid, we can’t trust any of it.

Let me fix it for you:

It wouldn't be the first time the crew lied about someone being on set.

The handprint was not scripted. I repeat, the handprint was not scripted.

Castiel’s monologue could be just about loving Dean, and it’s just my poor wounded heart looking too deep into it and seeing my angstloving reflection on the bottom of the well.

And Supernatural might indeed be about family, but, as we know, family doesn’t end with blood, and doesn’t start with it either. Cas is family, after all.

I’m glad be are clear on this one.

What tells us Cas is coming back and we are getting Destiel endgame:

(Brace yourself, it’s gonna be wordy)

1. The most obvious, without rewriting his memory or going OOC, there’s no happy ending for Dean (not the crappy bittersweet substitute) without Cas.

Even without the love confession in place, we’ve seen what Cas’ death did to him before, it shuttered him to pieces. Imagine the damage it's gonna cause now!

“I love you, I always did, bye bye now, have a long and happy life knowing my feelings for you have killed me dead.” Really? No win can make up for it.

2. My fave point, aka the natural dynamics of storytelling. The big loss predicts the big win. The deeper the wound, the brighter the prize. Following the roller coaster this season has been, we should be up for a pretty high damn up pretty soon.

So, there’s The Big Loss (losing Eileen, all of their friends, all the people on Earth and Cas).

Next - The Big Win (defeating God, getting their free will back, getting humanity back).

Then, we should have The Big Regret and Reflect moment (Sam and Dean talking a lot at this point, realization of things which are important, what they want with Chuck gone).

And at the end, there’s The Ultimate Happy ending waiting for us (see point 1 again in case you are not sure what that means).

3. You know what, forget it, this one is my favorite. The parallels. Throughout this season we’ve been spoon-fed with context (Geez, it feels nice to finally know we are not crazy, we are not seeing things, we got it all right!) and writers chose to do so via parallels, via reflections, subtle hints.

It would be some lazy storytelling to shove everything to our faces, so, instead, we’ve got: Charlie and Stevie, Sam and Eileen, the world and humanity, Dean and Cas.

Everyone separated. Forever? No, not really. And I don’t buy everyone getting their loved ones back, except Dean. C’mon.

4. Unresolved love confession. Yes, Cas might have died with a smile, meaning it’s enough for him to speak his truth and be gone. But Dean? Him sobbing in the dungeon, ignoring Sam’s calls (he literally never chose anything above Sam before), the “Don’t do this, Cas” part - it’s the lowest he’s ever been.

To sum up, Dean didn’t get his closure. He might have needed five to six business days to process, but he still has his truth he has to find out and then give a voice to.

And yeah, I know, he could confess via prayer or something, but we all know that’s something needed to be said face to face. (Btw, he already confessed to Cas in purgatory via prayer once, you can try and prove me wrong, but good luck with that, sunshine.)

5. The perfect symmetry. If I were in SPN writers room, I would literally cry my eyes out of joy at the symbolism this ending gives. I would literally fight everyone against it.

The broken man not deserving to be saved is dragged from Hell by the most loyal and righteous angel Heaven ever seen.

The fallen angel not deserving to be loved is dragged from Empty by the most loving and caring man the sun shone on.

I mean, c’mon, people. Poetry.

(We are nearing a very important thing here, fasten your seatbelts, please.)

6. The message the show wants to give the world has changed. From “it’s all about the journey, about saving people, killing things, no one ever gets what they deserve”, the philosophy has changed drastically toward the “good things do happen, you deserve to be saved, to be loved”.

Come and see what lane we are walking right now: allowing yourself to love again, to experience things again / losing the love of your life a moment later / fighting for your love / winning your love back.

I believe the final message is: love always wins.

Love is not one’s weakness, love is power, love is strength, it’s a perfect fuel.

Humans declare war in the name of love, kill and get killed in the name of love, but, most importantly, humans live and win those wars in the name of love, too.

7. Go big or go home is on the table, and no one goes home this time.

Supernatural was a bunch of broken glass for soooo long, I think this time writers are gonna give us something good, for a change. Not bittersweet good, but actually cotton-candy-almost-diabetes-sweet good.

Why?

Because *loud and clear* we deserve having good things happening to us!

Also, it’s The End, the creators have nothing to lose, but, on the other hand, the ultimate happy ending would allow them to leave an enormous mark on the world and Supernatural to be known as the only show that actually could.

To sum up:

Dean can’t be happy with Cas gone and, following the logic of prebuilt parallels, he won’t have to - everyone gets their loved ones back at the end, because love always wins.

Cas might be at peace with speaking his truth, saving Dean and being gone, but it is not fair, Dean also deserves a chance to be heard.

Few seasons ago I would laugh in my own face for these arguments, but the philosophy of the show has been transformed. During the last few years we were being prepared for this moment, slowly, gently being led toward this moment.

Supernatural has to give us the Destiel endgame to prove their point.

click x click for more

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bakugohoex · 4 years ago

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I'm so happy for you! Congrats for 1k! 🥳🥳🥳 I saw there was one fluff prompt left, number 10 I believe. If it's still available could you do it with Porco?

“we were never just friends”

pairing: porco galliard x female reader

cw: fluff, language, a lot on intimate moments that make me sad that I’m alone

word count: 2700+

a/n: please im sorry that im still working on my 1k event when i have a 2k event going on at the same time, but i wrote this fic in a sprint thing on discord and surprisingly I think i did okay with it.

summary: in which Porco relives moments of his love for you until he finally gets what he had always wanted

1k event masterlist

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

Porco didn’t understand the first time he met you would be as children; he saw those tender eyes and that soft sunflower dress, and he couldn’t help but fall in love. Maybe it was a childish dream or some misconception that this was the love that he had so often seen between his parents. But he knew from that very moment seeing you with your hair up in pigtails playing in the sand he had fallen in love.

His eyes stayed focused on you, his shorts showing the grazed knees he had had from sliding along the grass against his mothers will. But the sound of his screams as he ran towards the sandcastle you had made, and the crying as a consequence of the fallen castle made him realise this wasn’t a real way to introduce himself. He looked between those damp tears and the sand that speckled across your chest and knees and he knew this moment would be ingrained into both of your minds for the rest of your life.

He knelt in front of your timid body, eyes tearing up as you looked like you wanted to chuck sand at him. Your mother hadn’t noticed the tears as they were silent, but as Porco brought his hand out, moving his small fingers to touch your cheek he felt the cold tears stream down your face. It wasn’t his fault, or maybe it was, but at the time he felt bad. “I’m sorry.”

You looked up to meet the blonde, his dinosaur t shirt and beige coloured shorts made him look like any other child. You don’t know what got into you too stare at his childish figure. Maybe it was because you were a child yourself but seeing this random child apologise for kicking down your hard work and effort. It brought some relief, “it’s okay.”

He wiped away the tears as he spoke once more, “I’ll help you build another one.”

You nodded in an instant as he grabbed the plastic mould and started digging for sand. Maybe it was the start of a new friendship he didn’t know at the time but here he was lying on his bed reliving those childish memories that he had had with his only love.

It had been years since that incident, a decade even but you still remained close to him, still had him at arm’s length. He was the boy who had spent years pining over you whilst you always just seemed out of his grasp. He stared once more at your text message, once again speaking about your date with Reiner.

All he could do was send good luck for it, what else could he do? You were his best friend, key word being friend and nothing else, nothing more. He could only just wish to see you happy and if it meant with Reiner who was he to suppress your happiness.

He couldn’t help but admire his lock screen, the love and admiration he had for you, maybe it was because of the many years he had spent following you around like a lost puppy, but the way his eyes would almost widen each time you spoke. He looked down through his camera roll, he couldn’t help but relive all these memories he had had with you.

The first time you both went into high school together, the first day that you both had found other friends. Met new people and happened to form your own group, Porco knew everybody knew of his little crush on you. Who wouldn’t, the way you’d both walk to and from school or the way he’d always be on call with you to just talk about anything.

Maybe this was the sign, the push to admit his feelings but he never did. It had been a stupid party; his camera being filled with that night months ago. The night were you both went to Eren’s stupid party, the night where he had found you in the arms of another.

“I hate Eren.” You had muttered to the boy.

He scoffed as his arm rested loosely against your shoulder, “who doesn’t, he put me in a headlock in PE once.”

“And you didn’t fight back, aww I’m proud of you Poc.” He rolled his eyes at the nickname, he hated it, but he knew that from your lips any name of his would sound so pretty. “I heard Reiner’s going though.”

Ever since that stupid Maths class with Reiner you almost seemed infatuated with the boy. Porco hated it and knew he’d have to keep an eye on you for the rest of the night. As you both walked through the doors, already seeing drunk teenagers and couples making out. Porco became jealous, he might have hated the idea of ever having his first kiss with you in a rowdy party. But the way he wasn’t even able to keep you by his side, to show you off to Reiner and the others because you really meant more than the world to him.

Your eyes scoured around the room and in a matter of seconds you faced the brute of a blond, he hated how you left his side. Hated how Reiner beckoned you forward as if you were his, you weren’t you were Porco’s. Porco shook his head as he stared at the two of you before going off to find anybody except the two of you.

He didn’t know what went into his head to drink as much as he had that night. He stared at the photos on his phones, many drunk ones of him falling about but he might not have remembered the night that well. But a memory would forever remain ingrained in his head.

The shift of his weight from the alcohol and the way his eyes landed on you. His sweet childhood friend on Reiner’s lap, his Y/n, the girl with the sundress now draped across Reiner’s lap, hands around his neck as your lips had been attached to his own. The couples Porco had seen, had envied for not being the two of you had all divulged into you and Reiner.

His arms against your waist, your hands tugging at his blond hair, Porco eyes flashed red. He wanted to run up and take you away, grab your arm and leave but he didn’t. He looked at the two of you and left. Walked out of the house, telling Mikasa to let you stay the night and then left, he couldn’t face you, couldn’t walk home with you and see your smudged lipstick, see your dishevelled hair.

Porco’s eyes stayed firm at the multitude of texts that came through, you had sent him voice notes after voice notes about what you were wearing and the plan for the night. Now here he was listening to them and replying half an hour later, you were probably out there, probably with him, kissing him, holding him, loving him.

He chucked his phone to the ground as he stared at the many photos of the two of you and your other friends. Every moment with you always felt like a whole other world, maybe you felt the same way or maybe you didn’t. But he would always keep it hidden, he knew better than to let his emotions fuel his rage. Because in the end all he wanted was for you to be happy and if it meant giving up his own, who cared.

The sound of his doorbell going off made him sign it was probably his mothers friend. He stayed staring at the memories, he could have been out right now. Could be with Zeke or Pieck or anybody but no he was in his bed mopping per usual, his mothers voice boomed through the house as she shouted his name.

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming.” He groaned as he swung his legs off the bed, his eyes straight down the stairs. He didn’t know who it could be, possibly Bertholdt wanting to borrow his switch again or Colt asking for Marcel as well.

He rubbed at his eyes as he was finally met with you. In that pretty dress you only wore for special occasions, those bright eyes that brimmed with tears and that soft smile you tried to put on. His mother left as you moved towards the stairs, both unable to speak as you walked up to his room, the room you had spent countless nights sleeping at. The room where you both spoke of your dreams and aspirations, the room where he had fallen even more in love with you.

You sat on his bed refusing to meet his eye as he leant against his door, “what happened?” His phone remained chucked to the ground, the lock screen of the both of you flashed as the group chat seemed to be buzzing about something. He was about to walk over and check it but your croaky voice stopped him.

“Don’t…please.” He looked at your figure, the way you look vulnerable and almost nimble, he moved to your body, hands against your shoulder as you leant into his own. Tears finally falling freely onto his shirt, “I…I thought he liked me Porco.”

“What did Reiner do?”

The whisper and tension around the room was low but he kept you close by his arms, “we…we were supposed to hang out and when I met up with him he was all over Historia.”

Porco’s eyes flashed in rage, Reiner had no right to do that to you. To his girl and at that moment all he could think about was the hurting you must feel, he may have hated Reiner from the beginning but seeing you with tears from an undeserving man broke him the most. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

You both stayed in each other’s arms, his lingering touches and eyes that filled with so much love as he kept a hold of you. His perfect girl that would never be his, “don’t leave me Poc.” It had been a whisper but the way his hand caressed your hair, the illuminating moon cascading through the background as it lit up the room. Every memory and past version of yourself, you looked out seeing the picture of the two of you from years ago, “that was the day I fell in love with you.”

Porco stayed silent, he didn’t think you understood what you had said, pointing at the two of you at the treehouse his father had made for you at 13, but he remembered that day as if it was yesterday.

“I can't believe he actually made it for you both,” you got all giddy as you climbed the ladder, Marcel already up there, you helped Porco up as you looked inside the treehouse.

Porco shrugged as you both looked around the place, the disposable camera your mother had given you around your neck as you stayed firm in your want to take pictures of the world. He watched you take pictures of the different parts of the treehouse, one of Marcel sleeping as he finally showed you what he had brought.

“We can put our names in the tree, make the world know we were here.” Your eyes widened as Porco wrote his initials with a plus underneath and you wrote your own. The way he told you to keep your eyes closed as he engrained around your names a heart, you had always thought it was a friendship heard but wanted it to be a heart of love. A sign of new beginnings of a relationship that could possibly occur. “Now we’re together forever.”

You hugged the boy as the two of you spent the rest of the day in the treehouse, his mother coming and taking the exact picture of the two of you that was now plastered against Porco’s wall.

It was beautiful and you didn’t mean to confess your own truths, Porco stared back at you, his eyes widening as he grabbed your wrist. “Y/n…”

“Forget what I said.” You muttered as you looked back out of the window, more and more memories each one holding moments of how deep your love ran for one another. The first time you both went swimming and Porco helped you into the deep end or the many trips out to the beach where you and Porco would run into the sea.

Childhood friends meant nothing when all you both really wanted to be was lovers. And as his firm grip stayed on you, his eyes filled with wonder and desire looked back at you with lust and love. All he could see was love, a type of love that had only ever been shown for you because he knew there would never be anybody else.

“It’s you, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and I hope what I heard was true, I pray it was because Reiner doesn’t deserve you Y/n, I…I need you.” The last part was nothing more than a murmur but as you finally looked into his eyes, his pretty smile and pretty face. He knew you knew; he knew that there was something more than that, “we were never just friends.”

With those final words, reality hit the two of you both were never just friends. He gave you a look, his eyes filled with lust as he looked down at your lips, hands moving to hold onto your waist. His love, his girl in his arms for the first time, “I love…”

You trailed off as his lips met your own, the tears having stopped and your hands cupping his cheeks. His soft full of life cheeks filled with admiration and adoration at the girl that had finally become his, he loved you, he did and now he knew that you loved him.

The kiss was soft, you both stayed in one another’s arms as his soft lips kept at a boundary but as soon as a moan slipped from your mouth his tongue had divulged inside. The heat from the past decade all coming to this one kiss, one look at you and he finally saw his love, the truth behind his sadness.

He had hated seeing you kiss Reiner, he had and now he would put that hatred and replace it with the love he had for you. He put you down onto his bed, his hands around your waist as he kept his mouth on your own. Kissing you with such passion and drive that his parents could probably hear the squeak of the bed.

He looked down at you, having finally let you go, arms to your side as he looked at his love. “I love you.” He knew he was repeating his love, but he wanted you to know, wanted you to never forget that his love knew no bounds that he would forever be yours and hopefully you’d forever be his.

He was about to kiss you once more, but you spoke just as his lips gilded against one another, the hush of it all, the way his breath fanned against your lips. You licked your lips and Porco could almost taste your saliva as he waited to hear your words. Waited to see the woman he loved speak truths about their future with one another, your hands wrapped around his neck making sure to not bring him to another kiss.

Instead to see his eyes widen at the proximity of another, the way he kneeled between your legs, spreading your dress apart, the way his hands stayed firm against your head. An intimate moment for the two souls who had finally become one, “I want you, you…you deserve to know the truth.”

He hesitated but nodded waiting for a reply, he didn’t care if whatever your next words ruined any moment the two of you were about to have. He just wanted to hear you say your wants and needs for him one last time.

“Reiner…he was a distraction…I thought you liked Pieck so…so I let you pursue that.” You whispered, he hated thinking that you thought he liked Pieck, the way you went to Reiner as an alternative when the two of you could have just spoken about your feelings.

But at this moment he didn’t care, he had you in his bed, in his arms and the past meant nothing to him when he knew there was a future for you both. “I’ve loved you since I kicked your sandcastle Y/n and I’ll love you for the years to come”

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just fill out the form in my navigation or send an ask and i’ll add you xx

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secretsickysideblog · 4 years ago

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dumb lucky

"“you know my favorite color?” bucciarati slurs, brows furrowing. “anyway, it also came in purple, and black, and ivory, so I bought all of them, and uh…” “that’s cute,” bucciarati smiles, and abbacchio nearly dies at the way he looks while smiling unabashedly, weak as it may be right now. “you know my favorite color.”'

a mission takes bucciarati and abbacchio all the way to a town in piedmont where bucciarati finds himself fever-riddled in the midst of a snowstorm. abbacchio finds silver linings.

(sicktember day 1 - fever)

read under the cut!

It’s only tradition for things to go wrong for Passione.

Well, perhaps that’s a lie--normally, they get dumb lucky. But this means that when things go wrong, they go incredibly wrong in multiple ways at once. It’s only fair for the amount of times the gang has narrowly escaped death by the skin of their teeth. And Abbacchio is grateful that neither he nor Bucciarati are running the risk of death right now; it could be much, much worse.

But this mission could certainly be going much better. After all, Abbacchio never thought he’d be buying fever reducers in a little town in Piedmont, Italy as a part of the job of Neapolitan Mafioso. He hadn’t expected to be led all the way to Piedmont in the first place.

Easy mission my ass, Giovanna, he laments internally, rolling his eyes as he compares the prices between on and off-brand fever reducers. Abbacchio doesn’t usually bother to buy things like this, but Bucciarati’s fever--yes, a fever that had managed to swell up to a whopping 39 degrees overnight while on a mission--definitely needs to be treated.

He settles on both bottles, and he grabs a pack of water bottles, too. Abbacchio peruses the shelves, considering what else Bucciarati might need. He’d rather not come trudging out through this snow again if he could help it; it started coming down last night and hasn’t shown any sign of stopping since. He grabs another thermometer, a can of soup, and he’s about to head to the register when he spots something else that catches his eye.

It’s a large blanket in blue--Bucciarati’s favorite shade of blue (not that Abbacchio bothers to remember things like his Capo’s favorite color), and god, does it look soft. His gaze wanders to the window. Snow falls in clumps, kicked up into a white mist by the wind, and Abbacchio could shiver just looking at it. He does shiver thinking about the short walk back to the motel through that storm.

Abbacchio sighs, runs his fingertips over the inviting fleece. A blanket couldn’t hurt.

He grabs it and tucks it under the arm without the basket only to spot that there’s another of the same in purple. And another, in ivory? Abbacchio isn’t someone tempted by luxuries, but blankets in the cold seem like a necessity.

So he picks up both. Because Bucciarati has to sweat out the fever anyway, right? He’s too out of it to be angry, anyway.

Abbacchio lugs the three heavy blankets and the basket of various other supplies to the register, fishing around in his pocket for his wallet. The cashier looks over his selection as she rings up and bags each object, smiling fondly.

“Taking good care of someone, I see.”

Abbacchio huffs, lips quirking upward to a ghost of a smile. “Yeah, I guess I am. It’s about time he lets me.”

“These blankets are on sale, you know. Buy one and the other is half-off,” and, in an expertly-crafted manner of egging him into it, the cashier finishes her sell with, “Everyone loves a good blanket. Perfect to cuddle up under.”

Abbacchio doesn’t anticipate growing the balls to ‘cuddle-up’ with Bucciarati, but something about the idea sways him into it. He stares at the blanket shelf in consideration for a long moment before giving in and grabbing a fourth, this one in black.

The cashier is, clearly, proud of herself. Abbacchio can’t find it in himself to get as annoyed by this as usual. He did fall for her marketing scheme, after all. Can’t bitch about it if he gave in.

Altogether, he walks out of the store with five bags slung on his arms, four of which are occupied by heavy fleece and tied off to avoid any of the snowfall. His boots feel like weights as he trudges through planes of muddy white, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck. His hands are freezing--he wishes he’d bought gloves.

When he finally returns to the motel room, Bucciarati is curled up on the bed. He looks just about the same as he did when Abbacchio left which is, admittedly, like shit. His hair, lacking its typical braid, fell in uneven layers wherever it wasn’t sticking to sweat-soaked skin. The only real color in his face is across his cheeks in bright, splotchy red, and though his eyes are closed now, they’ve been glazed over all morning.

Abbacchio shakes his head in disapproval, wondering how Bucciarati managed to just ignore this, because he knows damn well it didn’t just spark overnight. He must’ve been feeling at least vaguely unwell before they’d embarked on this (unexpectedly) lengthy journey. Abbacchio tells himself, as he has every time he starts thinking about how his Capo sucks at self-care, that he’ll just bitch at him about it later; criticizing a sick person is mean, and besides, there’s not enough cognizance in his fever-addled head to comprehend annoyance right now anyway.

He unties his scarf, shrugs off his coat, and unbags the items on the small coffee table in the room. Bucciarati stirs into half-lucidity, as told by the mix of a groan and a whine that slips from him after a bit of shifting around. Abbacchio looks over to him, seeing his hazy blues blink open, and he immediately grabs the bottle of fever reducers to force down his throat now while he’s just awake enough to swallow and not awake enough to protest.

“Here,” he holds out a bottle of water and two of the pills for Bucciarati to take, which he does after taking a second to process the command. He moves sluggishly, but he manages to get the pills down and put the water bottle on the nightstand. Abbacchio feels his forehead with the back of his hand, frowning at how much he’s burning still.

He goes to pull away. Bucciarati doesn’t let him, grabbing his wrist and holding his hand there.

“What are you doing?”

“Cold,” he mumbles, letting his eyes flutter closed again. “Feels nice.”

Abbacchio opens his mouth, closes it. Thanks the lord above that Bucciarati can’t see the way his cheeks heat up as though he’s contracted a fever. After a moment of hesitance, Abbacchio brings both of his hands up to cup Bucciarati’s cheeks, and the other man sighs contentedly.

“Well, if it’s cold you want, maybe you should go take a nap in the snow,” Abbacchio jokes.

“Hm,” Bucciarati takes a breath. “Perhaps I should.”

Abbacchio stares down at Bucciarati. At the way his eyelashes, dark and thick, fan out across his cheeks. At his lips, still pretty and pink and miraculously not very chapped. Even now, sick as a dog, Bucciarati is gorgeous. Abbacchio could watch him forever, he’s sure, but then he realizes how creepy he’s being and abruptly pulls away. Bucciarati’s eyes open with a dejected look to them, and Abbacchio reminds himself that it’s not because it’s his hands, it’s because his hands are cold and Bucciarati is delusional with fever.

“Uh, so, I got you two kinds of fever reducer, and you’re gonna take it whether you like it or not,” Abbacchio starts to say, clearing his throat. Bucciarati hums, half-listening. “I got water. A can of soup, if you get hungry, but since you just woke up I’m sure you’re not yet.”

Bucciarati doesn’t respond, so Abbacchio assumes he’s right. He’ll make him eat something later.

“And,” Abbacchio unties the other four bags, “I know you’re not looking to get warmer, but fevers have to be sweat out, right? I got blankets. They were on sale.”

Bucciarati almost whines, though it’s quiet, subtle. Abbacchio opts to ignore it, because it does nothing good for his heart.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but look, it’s your favorite color,” Abbacchio holds up the blanket in proud display. Bucciarati looks at it, but it’s clear that he’s not fully seeing it.

“You know my favorite color?” Bucciarati slurs, brows furrowing.

“Anyway, it also came in purple, and black, and ivory, so I bought all of them, and uh…”

“That’s cute,” Bucciarati smiles, and Abbacchio nearly dies at the way he looks while smiling unabashedly, weak as it may be right now. “You know my favorite color.”

Abbacchio takes the tags off the plush fabric and chucks it at Bucciarati. Bucciarati, as expected, makes no move to catch it. It takes him a minute to slip the fleece off of his head and onto his lap. This process is repeated four more times as a mountain of plush fabric piles up on the bed--the singular bed, which Abbacchio would be incredibly nervous about if this was a year ago, but they’ve been stuck in the ‘unfortunate’ one-bed scenario too many times for him to care anymore.

“This is...so many,” Bucciarati murmurs, staring down at the pile. He runs his thumb along the hem of the blue one. “They are soft, though.”

“I don’t know if you can feel how cold it is in here, much less out there,” Abbacchio gestures towards the storm just beyond the windows, “but we needed them. I don’t know how long we’re gonna be stuck here, between your fever and the bastard we’re after.”

Bucciarati nods, absently petting the blankets. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Falling ill,” Bucciarati says it like it’s the most obvious reason to apologize in the world. “We’re stuck here. It’s my fault.”

Abbacchio rolls his eyes. “Stop apologizing for things you can’t control.”

Bucciarati looks like he wants to protest, but then his expression turns confused as if his own thought process doesn’t make sense to him anymore. Abbacchio snorts at the sight and shakes his head before climbing into bed beside the other man and urging him to lay back down.

“I’m all sweaty.”

“I don’t care,” Abbacchio pulls one of the many blankets around them up to his shoulders, and another about halfway above that. He lets Bucciarati kick the others aside. “You’re warm, and I’m cold. I’m finding silver linings.”

Bucciarati chuckles a little. If he were any more coherent, he’d make a joke about Abbacchio’s usual pessimistic cynicism being an act; the latter is almost grateful, at that thought, for the fever. The wind howls outside as the storm picks up. It’s definitely not an ideal situation, but it could be much worse.

Bucciarati turns to nuzzle his face into the crook of Abbacchio’s neck. Tentatively, Abbacchio wraps an arm around him.

Maybe this was just dumb luck in disguise.

#sicktember #sicktember2021 #jjba sickfic #jjba fanfiction #jojo's bizarre adventure sickfic #bruabba #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #leone abbacchio #bruno x abbacchio #bruabba sickfic #sick!bruno #caring!abbacchio #sickfic #fever #nice first post

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drsilverfish · 5 years ago

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Signs and Wonders - of Angels and Mothers in 15x19 Inherit the Earth

Hi everyone,

I am late to the party as usual, and I haven’t jumped into the Tumblr hive mind yet.

First of all, I know this episode will have felt very painful to many of you, because of Cas’ absence and Dean’s contained grief.

Look, those fuckers in the writers’ room are toying with us. Dean running up to the door to greet Cas, only to find The Devil instead? A deliberate twist in the narrative negative space, which screams in the story (lovers parted, and surely reunited).

This episode does a lot of heavy lifting, in that it both serves as a “Brothers Only” ending for certain audience segments (who can, perhaps, depending on what happens, forever pretend 15x20 didn’t take place) and also, I surmise, for certain audience markets, whilst, at the same time, undercutting that ending (15x19) as sad, lonely and cheesy [that montage at the end, lol].

The visual narrative, which has always been one of SPN’s best features, had plenty to say of interest, so I thought I’d start there, with an angels and mothers theme.

Chuck’s empty world contains this shot of New York, which depicts a rainbow on the right, and on the left, a billboard which reads, “Switch, and get 100% total satisfaction”, whilst the billboard in the middle, for Coke, reads “Staying apart is the best way to stay united.”

Cryptic, huh? But accidents don’t just happen accidentally.

An LGBT rainbow, first off. “Switching” could refer to bisexuality, but it also refers, perhaps, to a double ending structure, i.e. 15x19 and 15x20 as endings you can “switch”, in which case, “Staying apart is the best way to stay united”, could be understood as commentary on the two ancient SPN fandom strands (Bronlies and Destiellers) which a double ending structure seeks to accommodate.

In that case Chuck (meaning the writers’ room) really is (as they told us themselves, via a reconstitued Lilith, in 15x05 Proverbs 17:3) a “low rent Dean Koontz”. I wrote about the possibility of a double-ending structure here, in relation to that Dean Koontz comment:

https://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/189090087949/hes-more-of-a-low-rent-dean-koontz-15x05

Next visual narrative marker (in my mothers and angels theme) was this shot of Dean next to the Margiekugel beer, which, as all the crazy and marvellous SPN beer meta writers taught us, is the beer associated with mothers in SPN. Dean as a nurturing figure here, yes, but I remain convinced we will see Mary Winchester again in 15x20. That would fit beautifully with Dabb’s Ouroboros narrative, because Amara resurrected Mary, and now, Amara is part of Jack-the Divine-Unity, and he [as her, apparent, killer] would surely wish to bring happiness to his adopted Winchester family by restoring her again:

Oh look, a Mary figure in the Michael church:

And an angel besides:

Which recalls Mary’s line, long ago, in 5x13 The Song Remains the Same, spoken to baby Dean in-the-womb, “Angels are watching over you.” Which now, resonates emotively back into the story, in a new way, through Castiel’s final, loving, sacrifice for Dean in 15x18 Despair.

This shot was also interesting - Route 66:

On one level, this is a visual joke about one of Bucklemming’s (also the writers of 15x19′s) most joked about SPN episodes, 1x13 Route 666, otherwise known as the “racist truck” episode. I actually think that characterisation of the ep is a little unfair - it at least tried to tackle the horror of historic racism, albeit with a rather ridiculous horror show twist.

BUT, on another level, that episode contains Dean’s lover, Cassie. And Cassie has been read by many, as equated (by naming elision) with Castiel, in the show’s narrative subtext. So, we can (if we choose) read this sign as another poignant, subtextual, reminder of absent Castiel, in 15x19.

Then we have this shot, of Dean by the “Men” and “Ladies” doors at this gas station, choosing “Men”:

Yes, of course he’s chosing “Men”, Silverfish - he’s going to the loo (I’m British).

Neverthless, this kind of visual, symbolic, bisexual coding of Dean, is also a deliberate Ouroboros in the narrative, because Dean has been coded as bisexual, in the show’s visual and symbolic subtext, since S1:

https://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/115161057824/bisexual-in-the-subtext-since-s1

And now? Now that the Winchesters are free of Chuck’s control, at last? Chuck, for whom Castiel’s rebellion, and Castiel’s love, for Dean, was never part of the story?

Ah, well, that’s still to play for.

Dean’s character is, in my view, at this point, still structured by the narrative glass closet (meaning, his queerness is visible to some, invisible to others, by design); a doubling structure.

Dabb’s finale has now itself been set up as part of a doubling structure - 15x19 Inherit the Earth as one “ending”, and 15x20 Carry On, as another.

#Supernatural #15x19 #Inherit the Earth #SPN meta #Meta #Dean is bisexual #Still subtext #But subtext IS part of narrative #Mary Winchester #Amara Queen of Heaven

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lunaslethifold · 5 years ago

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A Summer in Ottery St. Catchpole: Part 1 (George Weasley x Potter!Reader)

Pairing: George Weasley x Female!Potter!Reader

Series Synopsis: Y/N Potter used to have a huge crush on George Weasley. She could hardly even function around him. Now fresh out of a long relationship, she can say with confidence that those feelings she harbored for years are gone. George, on the other hand, had barely even acknowledged her existence. But now that Y/N is more comfortable around him, he starts to see the real her. George starts to see her in a new light. Boy, is that bad news for him.

Warnings: none

Word Count: ~2.4k

Find the other works in this series in my masterlist (pinned and linked in my bio :))

A/N: Here’s the second part of the series, shorter than the last part as promised. Reminder that this series takes place the summer after Goblet of Fire and before Order of the Phoenix, and it doesn’t follow canon completely. I made the headquarters of the OOTP the Burrow instead of Sirius’ house, mostly because I wanted to write this in the Burrow setting. The beginning of this sort of sets up everything that is to come. Also, thank you so much for all of the support on the prologue! I honestly was hoping for like, 5 notes, so tysm! Sorry for any grammar mistakes.

Harry was sat on his bed, watching his older sister pacing in front of him. Slight annoyance started to creep up on him at her incessant movement. The Dursleys had left not long ago to get help for Dudley. The house was quiet. Too quiet.

“Y/N, would you stop that?” Harry finally said, irritated.

“Expelled, Harry. Expelled! I can’t believe it. They can’t do that. It’s not right,” Y/N replied, completely ignoring what he just said. Harry almost rolled his eyes at her. “I mean, you were protecting him! Not to mention that he already knows about magic. Goodness, I should’ve been there-”

“Y/N, shh!”

“Don’t tell me to shh, Harry. I’m older than y-” This time, Harry did roll his eyes and placed a hand over her mouth, stopping her from continuing. Y/N attempted to pry his arm off.

“Did you hear that?” he said, lowering his hand.

“Hear what?” Y/N said, glaring at him. She opened her mouth to speak but stopped short when she heard it too. There were shuffling noises coming from downstairs.

“The Dursleys?” she mouthed at Harry. He gave her a confused look. “The. Dursleys.” She tried mouthing it again, this time slower.

“What?” he mouthed back, raising his eyebrows.

“The Dursleys,” she whispered to him. Harry still looked lost. “The! Dursleys!” Y/N whisper-shouted, exasperated. This time he understood.

“What about them?” he whispered back.

“Are they back? Is their car here?” she said, gesturing at the window that Harry was standing next to. It seemed to click in his mind and he searched for a sign of their presence outside. Nothing. He turned back to his sister and shook his head. They both pulled their wands out. The noise seemed to get closer and Y/N stepped in front of Harry.

The door to their room burst open and multiple figures could be spotted in the doorway. “Lumos,” a voice said, and the previously dark room was illuminated with light. The source of the light was a wand that was held by a woman with colored hair. She smiled goofily at Y/N and she almost smiled back. Almost. But she was still in protective sister mode and raised her wand a little bit.

While Y/N was looking at the woman, Harry seemed to have noticed a figure behind her.

“Professor Moody?”

Suddenly the Potter siblings were mounted on brooms and zooming through the sky. Y/N wasn’t nearly as good as Harry was on a broom, but she could hold her own. Although she was a little bit distracted with the whole being-rescued thing, she realized that the route they were taking was familiar to her.

“Oi!” she called to the woman who had smiled at her earlier. “Er… Tonks!” This caught her attention and she turned to her. “Are we going to the Weasley’s?” Y/N yelled. The wind whipped against her face and she squinted.

Tonks nodded. “Yeah, headquarters.” She also sent Y/N the same goofy smile as before. Y/N was a bit confused, but she smiled back this time. She could tell that she already liked her.

Soon the group approached the Burrow. Or, where the Burrow was supposed to be. It seemed to have vanished into thin air. When they landed, Y/N exchanged glances with Harry. He shrugged in response. It seemed that every year they were learning something new about the wizarding world. Moody lifted his staff and the charming house that they’d spent their summers at seemed to be growing before them. They all entered the house and a different noise than the usual hustle and bustle made its way to their ears. In fact, it seemed that there was arguing going on. And not the usual sibling back and forth, but actual heated conversation.

Y/N and Harry approached the dining room table, where all the commotion seemed to be. There, they caught sight of some of their favorite people.

“Remus!” Y/N said, reacting first.

“Sirius!” Harry said from beside her. They were all wearing matching grins. As they tried to step forward, Mrs. Weasley blocked them.

“Now, now, we can say our hellos later. Upstairs you two, and we’ll call you for dinner in just a bit,” she smiled at them. Molly wrapped them in a quick hug and ushered them towards the stairs. Y/N glanced back before reluctantly walking up with Harry in tow.

When she reached the top, she was immediately pulled into a hug by Ginny. Harry greeted her before heading off to find Ron and Hermione.

“Y/N! It feels like it’s been forever. I missed you,” she said, leading Y/N to her room.

“I missed you too. What’s with all the secrecy?” Y/N replied.

“They’re having a meeting. Mum says we’re not old enough to be allowed,” Ginny said, shrugging and fiddling with the books on her desk.

“A meeting for what, exactly? No one can give me a straight answer,” she replied, plopping herself onto the bed.

“The Order of the Phoenix, of course.”

“The Order of the Phoenix, of course,” Y/N mocked, making her voice much higher than usual. She picked up a pillow and chucked it at Ginny. She threw it back at her and rolled her eyes. “Hey, where’s Fred?”

“Oh, and here I thought you were excited to see me,” Ginny replied, smiling.

Y/N groaned. “You know that is not what I meant.”

“Dad sent him and George to town to get some things for dinner.”

“Ah, okay. So, tell me more about this Order of the Phoenix,” Y/N said, turning to Ginny.

“Why tell when we can listen?” Ginny said with a mischievous glint in her eye as wide grins made their way to their faces.

That was how Ginny and Y/N found themselves in the situation they were currently in. Harry, Ron, and Hermione seemed to have the same idea and took the prime spot outside near the window.

"I think I've got an idea," Y/N said. The plan was simple, really. Ginny would throw an old book she had lying around her room to the ground floor. Then, when Mrs. Weasley went to go investigate - she was the only one who had a view of the hallway from where she was standing - the two girls would duck into the coat closet that was near the door to the dining room. It was foolproof. Okay, maybe not so much. But Y/N really wanted to hear what was going on and there was no time to think of a brilliant plan.

The moment had come. Y/N sat at the top of the stairs, waiting for the sound of the book hitting the ground. When she heard it, she dashed down and before turning the corner, she peaked just to make sure that Mrs. Weasley was gone. She wasn’t. Y/N stopped herself from running forward. That was a close one, she thought. Just when she thought she was in the clear, Ginny came barreling down the stairs and smacked right into her. Y/N, clad in socks, slipped on the wood floor and fell down, taking Ginny with her. A loud thump sounded, and Mrs. Weasley’s head snapped in their direction mid sentence. She didn’t even hesitate before closing the door with her wand.

Fred and George were walking up the hill towards the house, bags of groceries in hand. “Do you reckon Y/N and Harry are here yet?” Fred asked George.

“Well, let’s find out, shall we?” George replied, watching the house reveal itself. They stepped into the hallway and their eyes landed on a peculiar sight. Well, peculiar for George at least.

“She didn’t hear! She didn’t get up from her spot,” Y/N said. Her and Ginny were sprawled in a pile on the floor and they were too busy conversing to notice them.

“How is that my fault?” Ginny replied, trying to fix her disheveled appearance.

“I didn’t say it was-” Y/N began, but she was cut off when a pillow smacked her in the face. Ginny had reached behind her and grabbed it from the stack of laundry behind her. Time seemed to stop for a moment as a shocked and slightly offended expression settled onto Y/N’s face. She wasn’t genuinely offended, but George didn’t know that.

She recovered quickly and let out a shriek of, “Ginny Weasley! You’ll regret that!” Soon a storm of pillows and blankets were being thrown around the room as the sound of giggles filled the air.

After a minute of this Fred set his bags on the floor and blocked a pillow that was headed straight for the side of Y/N’s head. “Oi! Stop trying to pummel my friend, will you?” Fred said, with a big smile on his face. Y/N turned towards him with an equally large smile on her face.

“Fred!” she said, pulling him in for a hug. She reached up to touch the ends of his hair. “I like your haircut.”

“Your friend? She was my friend first, actually,” Ginny laughed, tugging Y/N to her side by her arm.

Fred opened his mouth to reply, but Y/N spoke first. “Actually,” she started, looking around the room for something. Her eyes landed on George. “George is my favorite Weasley,” she said, moving to stand next to them. She gently placed her hand on his arm, looked at him, and gave him a silly smile. “Hi, George.”

George was taken aback when he felt a jolt where her hand was. Fred and Ginny seemed to be protesting her statement, but he didn’t quite register what they were saying. Her hand felt nice there and it seemed to spread warmth throughout his arm. She was still looking at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but his breath hitched in his throat. Her smile was contagious though, so he managed to return it with a grin of his own. To George, it seemed like the girl next to him was looking at him for an eternity, but in reality it was only a few seconds. Something else caught her attention and she turned away, removing her hand from its spot on his arm. He felt himself almost… missing it. He tried to shake the feeling away.

What was going on?

The next day George woke up a little bit later than usual. Fred had already disappeared from their shared room. After he got ready he went downstairs in search of his twin. He tried looking everywhere, but he couldn’t seem to find him. George felt like he ran into everyone but who he was looking for. Ron, his parents, Ginny, and even Hermione. He was starting to get exasperated as he headed to the last place he thought Fred would be.

George went out the backdoor and headed to the big old tree where the treehouse that he and his siblings spent countless summer days sat. As he approached he heard laughter and chatter coming from it. He ascended the latter and found Fred and Y/N lounging lazily there. They looked like they were in their own world. As usual, George thought, laughing to himself.

“Stealing my best friend, are we?” George said when he was fully in. Fred and Y/N’s heads snapped up.

“Yeah, Fred, stop stealing his best friend,” Y/N said, sending her and his twin into hysterics. George was caught by surprise, but couldn’t help but join in too. He was a little bit confused, though. Y/N has grown less shy around him over the past couple of months, but she seemed to be letting loose more. This interaction had just confirmed what he thought when he arrived at the Burrow last night.

Y/N Potter had changed in George’s eyes.

George found himself conversing with Y/N more often than he supposed he had in his life during the next couple of days. She was suddenly more talkative around him. Not that he minded, though. In fact, George was quite enjoying her company; he hung onto every word she said. Whether they were talking about a prank Fred was planning or the upcoming school year, he couldn’t quite seem to get enough. But still, Y/N spent most of her time with Fred and Ginny. George was used to it by now, but for some reason this year he felt a bit… disappointed. He didn’t let it bother him, though, because he’s usually around Fred anyways.

George took notice of other things about Y/N besides who she spent time with, too. It first happened one evening when everyone was in the yard, save for Y/N and Ginny, who were meant to be doing the dishes. Keyword, meant.

George had run out of pumpkin juice after a particularly long match of quidditch with his brothers, so he ran into the house to get a refill. He made it to the doorway into the kitchen and paused to take in the scene in front of him. And pause he did.

The sun was setting and gave the Burrow a warm glow. The sound of a muggle song that George hadn’t heard before echoed through the kitchen. He wasn’t listening to the song, though. His attention was on the girl who was dancing with his sister. They were throwing their arms about wildy and jumping around like no one was watching them. Well, no one was supposed to be watching. Their laughs filled the air as they took turns singing the lyrics. Ginny grabbed Y/N’s arm and twirled her.

George was absolutely captivated. He felt like he had never seen someone look so effortlessly… well, beautiful. It was the only word he could think to describe her in that moment. The permanent smile that adorned her face, the comfortable clothes she was wearing, it all seemed like he had caught her in a perfect little moment. A grin made its way to his face and he gently leaned against the door frame. The song ended way too soon for his liking and the girls stopped to catch their breath.

Y/N turned around and noticed him standing there. She smiled sheepishly and waved at him. “What’s up, George?” she said, giggling slightly. When she said his name butterflies erupted in his stomach and he couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face.

This is completely fine, he thought. I’m fine. Sure, George.

Again, thank you guys so much for all your likes, reblogs, and comments on the prologue! I truly appreciate it. Let me know what you guys thought of this part. Also, what do you think of the length? Do you like them longer like the prologue, or shorter like this part? Thank you so much for reading!

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rafecameron · 5 years ago

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idk if u do rqst but i love ur writing! can u do jj x reader in a secret relationship bc shes a kook & also kiara’s enemy? maybe kiara having a lil crush on jj and when she found out, thats when the drama happens? kie confronts y/n and they get into a fight!! 🤭 im sorry if you dont do requests ): just ignore this then!

thank you so much for requesting! I haven’t written for JJ in so long I hope this is okay!

You didn’t necessarily enjoy sneaking around. You hated lying to your friends about where you were and what you were doing but you knew it was for the best. You knew your friends would look down on you for dating a pogue, but that wasn’t even what you were worried about. It was his friends. One friend in particular. Kiara. You knew kiara from school and you even used to hang out with her during her kook year. You were never what you would have called friends but you got along and were civil so when she completely turned on you at the end of last year you were more than a little surprised.

You had tried to talk to her, even if you didn’t much care for her you didn’t want any animosity between the two of you. But she hadn’t wanted to know and you’d given up trying pretty quickly. If she wanted to isolate herself from the whole school then you’d leave her to it. You never imagined your paths would have to cross much again besides sharing the same maths class. But then JJ had happened. And it hadn’t meant to happen.

You’d been at a kegger, nothing unusual about that. But your friend had ditched you to hook up with a touron so you’d found yourself wandering around the fire pit alone and more than a little intoxicated. That’s when you’d bumped into him. You’d seen him around before but you’d never spoken nor had the chance to get a god look at him. And now you had? You were enchanted. His messy blonde hair wasn’t something you’d usually find attractive but it suited him. You got lost in his blue eyes, eyes full of hope and laughter. You’d spent hours sitting with him, talking and laughing. Until kiara had appeared and all but ripped him from your side.

“Kiara what the hell?” You’d asked jumping up from the log you were sat on with a glare.

“Stay the hell away from my friends.” She spat back with a scowl to match yours.

JJ had intervened before a fight could break out, he held kiara back, profusely apologising to you before pulling her away. He’d found you on Instagram the day after and sent you another apology and since then you’d been practically inseparable.

“Do you think we will ever tell anyone?” You ask. Your chin was resting against JJ’s chest as you looked up at him, the sunlight coming through your window casting an ethereal glow across his tanned skin.

“I dunno y/n.” JJ sighs, he hated when you brought this topic up, “it’s complicated.”

“I know,” you lift your head, reaching a hand up to caress his cheek lightly, “but I mean in the future. Surely we can’t hide forever.”

JJ lifts his head, eyes softening as they meet yours, “one day yeah. Don’t think I don’t ever want the whole world to know you’re mine, cause I do.”

You quickly crawl up his chest and plant a kiss to his lips, the smile on your face making it hard to kiss him properly, “I want the whole world to know I’m yours. I want kiara to know I’m yours, so she can stop eyeing you up.”

JJ rolls his eyes and drops his head back with a groan, “not this again,” you hear him sigh, “she does not have a crush on me, y/n.”

“Yes she does!” You sit up, straddling his lap so you could look down at his face, “you don’t see the way she looks at you! Also, you’re completely oblivious to everything. I was dropping hints for weeks before finally out right saying I liked you.” You roll your eyes.

“That was different! I just convinced myself you would never be interested in a pogue like me.” JJ looks up at you, a small shrug rolling off his shoulders.

“JJ you know I don’t care about that stuff.” You lean down placing a kiss lightly to his lips.

“I know that now.” JJ replies, placing his hands on your hips as he kisses you again.

—-

It had been months since you’d started dating JJ, seven to be exact. And you’d both done a pretty good job at hiding the fact from other people. Your parents were out most of the time and your neighbours were elderly so it wasn’t hard to sneak him in and out of your house. You’d been to his a couple of times but he liked to keep you away from his dad as much as possible and you were perfectly okay with that.

You were currently attending what you were sure would be the last kegger of the year as the nights were starting to get noticeably colder as winter rolled around. You had a hoodie on, oversized and pulled over your hands to protect against the chill. You found it increasingly hard to stay away from JJ at keggers, because every time your eyes found him there was some touron trying desperately to get into his pants. You trusted JJ but that didn’t mean you liked to see it.

Your eyes were only pulled away from the blonde as a commotion broke out behind you. You weren’t at all surprised to see Rafe tackling someone to the ground, Topper not far behind him. Before you knew it there was at least eight people rolling around in the sand fighting. You tried to get away from the punches but before you knew it someone had been thrown in your direction, tumbling into your legs and pulling you to the ground with them. You let out a squeal as you fell backwards into the sand, hurting your lower back as you landed.

“Get off of me.” You growled pushing the drunk kook away from your legs.

“Y/N!” You heard your name being shouted, the kook was lifted away from you and chucked into the sand and suddenly JJ’s concerned face appeared in front of yours, “are you okay?” He asks his hands coming to rest on your shoulders as he looks you up and down for any obvious injuries.

“I’m fine.” You smile resting your hands gently on his wrists, “my back hurts a little but I’ll be okay. People will see.” You tried to pry his hands away but he wouldn’t let you.

“I don’t care, that asshole could have seriously hurt you!” JJ complains, his hand moves to your cheek, “are you sure you’re okay?”

You open your mouth but you don’t get a chance to reply. “What the hell is this?” Kiara asks appearing behind JJ with a look of disgust on her face, “JJ? What the fuck?”

JJ looks at her over his shoulder, his brows furrowed in a scowl, “back off kiara, nows not the time.”

“I think nows a perfect time to explain what the fucks going on.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest as her friends join her, confused looks crossing their faces.

“Kiara-“ you begin but she cuts you off.

“I wasn’t talking to you! I swear to god if you’re messing with him I’ll beat the crap out of you.” Kiara steps forward, popes hand on her shoulder stops her.

JJ stands up, helping you up with him, “she’s not messing with me! We’ve been dating for seven months. We didn’t tell you because we knew this is how you’d react.”

“Seven months?” Kiara splutters out, “what the hell? If you’re using him for some plot to get back at me-“

“I’m not using him!” You step around JJ and closer to Kiara, “I have no plot to get back at you because I have no reason to! You’re the one with a problem here not me! I’m sorry that you’re like in love with him or something but he isn’t interested!”

“I’m not in love with him, you have no idea what you’re talking about.” Kiara steps forward again, now only inches separating the two of you.

“Okay let’s calm down a minute.” John B speaks up pulling Kiara back as JJ tugs on your arm, “I think we should hear them out before starting any fights.”

“Look, I’m sorry that I’ve been lying to you guys, but I knew the reaction we’d get. And we really like each other, we didn’t want anything to ruin it.” JJ explains with a sigh, “and in y/n’s defense, she wanted to come clean months ago, it was me who said no.”

“Well I didn’t see this coming.” Pope speaks up but he smiles and lets out a chuckle, “it explains why you’ve been so damn happy lately man.”

“You’ve really been dating for seven months?” John B asks with raised brows, you both simply nod in answer, “Look, I’m okay with it. Like Pope said, this is the happiest we’ve seen you in a long time.”

“Well I am not okay with this!” Kiara cuts in with a frown, “you know how I feel about her! I can’t believe you guys don’t even care.” She shoots you another glare before turning on her heel and storming off.

The boys watch her walk away for a few seconds before turning back to you, “we’ll talk to her, she’ll come around.” John B sighs and hurried after her.

“I’m happy for you guys!” Pope calls over his shoulder with a grin as he follows after his friend.

JJ lets out a huff of breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, “that went bad, but not nearly as bad as I expected.”

“Are you kidding? She wanted to smash my face in!” You complain.

“Babe, she always wants to smash your face in.” JJ looks at you with a cheeky grin, “but at least I can do this now.”

He grabs your hips and leans forward, his lips meet yours in a slow kiss, your arms wrap around his neck and hold him close to you, “and I don’t care who sees.” He mumbles against your lips before connecting them again.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #outer banks #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #my writing #requested

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refinedbuffoonery · 4 years ago

Text

Late Nights

This is 2.5k words of fluff and essentially no plot. Set a week after the events of ICLU. I wrote the first part back in May right after I got the idea for ICLU and have been sitting on this ever since.

*****

When the letters and numbers on the screen finally blurred beyond recognition, Riley closed the program she’d been working on and put the lab computer to sleep. Her eyes burned. She was horribly behind on developing this program; it needed to start beta testing days ago, but the team’s back to back multi-day ops and her impromptu trip with the Coltons on her supposed day off consumed all of her time and energy this week.

Posing as a think tank, the Phoenix did have to do think tank-y things on occasion, after all, and every agent was expected to contribute to the organization’s public projects. Including a certain physically and emotionally exhausted hacker.

Mac sat across from her, fidgeting with spare robot parts. Riley checked the time. 10:58 pm. Everyone else had gone home hours ago. She vaguely recalled Bozer teasing her about not spending the night in his lab again. Pointing at Mac, he’d said, “Good thing he’s just as much of a workaholic as you are.” Riley knew Mac was just there to keep her company—and because they’d carpooled—not because he needed to keep working, but she hadn’t bothered to correct Bozer.

Groaning, Riley let her head fall into her hands. It felt like some invisible force was squeezing her skull, slowly crushing it like a grape. She needed to go to bed. Possibly forever.

“You okay?” She glimpsed Mac’s concerned frown between her fingers.

“Yeah,” she replied, dragging her hands through her hair. “I have a headache, that’s all.” Understatement of the century. “How long until you’re done?”

Mac looked unconvinced; when it came to her, he didn’t miss much. Mercifully, he didn’t push for a more elaborate answer. “Um, I need a few more minutes to finish this, plus maybe fifteen more to clean up. Bozer will kill me if I leave a giant mess in his lab.” Riley managed a small smirk. Indeed he would.

Riley figured it would be at least a half hour before he was ready to leave. Just enough time for a nap. “Take your time, Mac.” She stood, hauling her backpack onto her shoulder. “I’m going to take a nap. Come find me when you’re ready to go.” He nodded.

Sleep beckoning, Riley left the lab in search of a comfy chair.

*****

Thirty minutes later, Mac found her curled up in her favorite chair in the war room. Knees tucked into her chest, head cradled in the crook of her elbow, she looked breathtakingly peaceful.

He regretted waking her the moment he gently shook her shoulder. Riley grumbled something unintelligible that might have been his name.

“Time to go home, Riles.” Mac shouldered her backpack and helped her out of the chair.

Riley could barely open her eyes. She took one staggering step forward and nearly wiped out on the table she definitely didn’t realize was right in front of her. He knew she was exhausted—he was too—but this was alarming. She was burning herself out on the least important part of her job, and Mac didn’t understand why. A problem for tomorrow, he decided.

Mac wrapped an arm around her waist, helping keep her upright. “Thank you,” she mumbled. He pressed a quick kiss to the side of her head.

Mac’s truck sat alone in the underground lot. He was immensely grateful he and Riley had carpooled to work that day. Otherwise, if he hadn’t stayed to keep her company while she worked, she definitely would’ve spent the whole night in that war room chair.

They drove home in silence. Riley quickly fell asleep in the passenger seat, head resting on the window.

She was still out cold when he parked his truck in the driveway, and Mac couldn’t bring himself to wake her up twice in one night. He slid his arms around her back and under her knees and carried her inside, and Mac’s heart melted when she snuggled her face into his shoulder. He could hold her like this forever. “Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured.

Mac laid her on the guest bed and rested her backpack against the nightstand. He quickly unlaced her boots and pulled them off, revealing bright yellow and orange striped socks. He chuckled, imagining her muttering at him to stop laughing at her socks.

Grabbing a makeup wipe from the guest bathroom, it took him a few minutes to remove her stubborn eyeliner. No wonder, he’d seen it withstand blazing infernos, days in the woods, blood, sweat, tears, everything.

He tucked her under the covers before retrieving her favorite pajama shirt—an old t-shirt of his—and shorts. Mac left them at the foot of Riley’s bed, so she could change into them whenever she woke up.

Riley curled into a loose ball, snuggling her face deeper into her pillow, and Mac couldn’t help but worry as he closed the door halfway and retreated to his room.

*****

Riley awoke in the middle of the night to her bra’s underwire stabbing her in the chest. She blinked a few times, trying to get her bearings. She definitely wasn’t in the war room anymore.

It took longer than Riley cared to admit to realize she was back in Mac’s guest bedroom—her bedroom for the year she’d lived with him. Mac must’ve taken her home from the Phoenix.

Riley rolled onto her back, and her underwire stabbed her again. Fuck this, she thought, yanking off her tank top, then her bra, and sighing in relief as the straps fell down her shoulders. Chucking them both on the floor, she noticed the stack of clothes at the foot of her bed, blending in so well with the dark sheets Riley almost missed them. She smiled, silently thanking the man sleeping across the hall, and changed into her pajamas.

While debating whether to stay or join Mac, Riley stretched her back and hips, joints popping softly. She could be lazy and spend the rest of the night in her old room, or she could go cuddle with her boyfriend, but that would require getting up. But if she got up, she could also brush her teeth.

Had she even had dinner? Riley couldn’t remember. Her brain was still foggy.

Ultimately, her desire to sleep with Mac and brush her teeth won out, and Riley hauled herself out of bed and across the hall, feet barely lifting off the ground with each step.

Mac was a pretty light sleeper, so Riley slipped into bed beside him as quietly as she could. He stirred, but didn’t wake. Sinking into the mattress, Riley knew switching beds was the right choice. Her body relaxed more in Mac’s presence. She’d never realized how lonely exhaustion was, not until she had someone she could freely share with and who could empathize with her. Even so, she’d still lied earlier about how she really felt, mostly for the sake of her dignity. Mac was her best friend, but Riley was loath to outright admit to weakness, even to him.

She wanted to snuggle into his warmth and tuck her face between his shoulder blades, but that would surely wake him up. And waking Mac up would lead to questions she didn’t want to answer just yet. So, Riley stuck to her side of the mattress, tucked her legs into her chest, and went back to sleep.

*****

When Mac’s alarm went off, he wasn’t alone. Riley had snuck into his bed at some point and now curled into a tiny ball, facing away from him.

He wished they didn’t have to go to work today, wished they could sleep in and he could pry some answers from her. But the world wouldn’t save itself.

He texted Matty. Please don’t send us on an op someone else could do. Riley’s burning herself out, and I can’t figure out why.

I’ll keep an eye on her, Matty replied immediately.

Thank you.

Leaning over to kiss his girlfriend’s cheek, Mac got up and went for a run.

He did an easy three miles around the neighborhood, letting the cool dawn air wake him up. Mac smiled every time he passed someone else out for a run or walking their dog before the July sun made leaving the house practically unbearable.

When he returned, Mac found Riley awake and making coffee for them both. Her back was to him, so Mac scanned her body for signs of stress or injury, finding neither. “Good morning,” he said to break the silence.

Riley turned to him, bleary-eyed and still half asleep, and held out a steaming mug of coffee. Mac accepted, kissing her cheek in gratitude. It shocked him how easy it all was. She croaked, “How was your run?”

Mac couldn’t deny the way seeing Riley in his clothes affected him—the same way, he realized guiltily, the sight had always appeased some primal, possessive part of his brain, even when they were just friends—but damn it hit differently when she wore a sleepy, lovesick smile and had just crawled out of his bed. Riley had always been his girl, but now she was his girl.

The whole scene was sweet and domestic and everything he’d ever wanted.

“Good,” he finally answered. “I even stopped to say hi to our favorite dog.” An elderly couple who lived a few streets away had a mini Aussie, who was quite possibly the happiest being in the universe. She would trot alongside her humans without a leash, but when Mac or Riley appeared, she whined and whined until her owners said “Go ahead,” and she’d come barreling full-force into Mac or Riley’s chest and lavish them with endless kisses. Her name was Freya.

Riley’s eyes lit up in excitement. “My dog!” Mac chuckled, sliding onto one of the bar seats tucked below the counter.

Changing the subject, Mac tried to be nonchalant when he asked, “How do you feel this morning?” Worry crept into his voice anyway.

“Better,” Riley said, the mug hiding her face as she sipped her coffee. “Thanks for taking me home.”

Of course he took her home. Even if they weren’t dating, Mac still would’ve taken her home and given her his clothes. There was no universe in which he wouldn’t do that.

“Like I was going to let you spend the night in that chair,” he replied. Riley toyed with the hem of her shirt, her usual lively presence vanishing like a turtle retreating into its shell. Mac probed, “What’s up?” She sighed, still looking down. “Riles?”

When she finally looked up, Riley’s eyes were heavy with guilt. “Do you know how many times I almost got us killed this week?” Mac waited. “Twice. I led us—led you—right into traps I should’ve seen from a mile away. And before that, I gave you a fucking panic attack that sent you driving through the middle of nowhere to come find me!” Her voice crescendoed. “And now? Now I can’t even get that stupid program to work right! I just want to be able to do one thing right. One thing! Is that too much to ask?” Riley let out a loud, frustrated groan, shoulders caving inward.

Mac stayed in his seat, letting Riley have her space. He knew she didn’t like being coddled when she was frustrated. “I almost get us killed constantly,” he reminded her. “It’s part of our job. No one is holding it against you, especially not me. And that panic attack was the best thing to happen to me, because without it we’d still be waiting for one of us to find the courage to confess. This is going to sound hypocritical coming from me, but you can’t beat yourself up about that stuff.”

Riley snorted. “Very hypocritical.”

“You have to take the small wins as they come, okay? We’re not dead! We had sex! The important stuff!”

“I see you have your priorities together.” Her tone was snarky, but Mac caught her smile between sips of coffee.

“If we didn’t have to go to work I’d bend you over the counter and tell you how hot you look in my shirt.”

Mac impressed himself with how casually he managed to say that; he could only imagine Riley’s merciless teasing if his voice had cracked.

Riley blushed, even as she cautiously said, “We could do that anyway.”

The apprehension in her voice hit Mac like a bucket of cold water. He couldn’t just say things like that to his girlfriend of two days. Or maybe she was his best friend and he didn’t care. Mac couldn’t decide. This thing between them was so new, yet it felt like they’d been together forever. The butterflies lasted forty-eight hours, tops, before the calm sense of belonging, of home, washed over them. Mac had never had that happen so quickly in a relationship before. Usually it took weeks or even months, not two days.

“It’s not like they’re going to know,” Riley added.

That made the decision for him. “Are you kidding me? If we walk in late together, they’ll absolutely know why. They’re like professional mind readers! We’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Correction,” Riley said. “You’ll never hear the end of it. Desi and Bozer will just high five me and say, ‘Nice.’”

Mac frowned. She was right, unfortunately. He finished the rest of his coffee, grimacing at the bitter last sip. Placing his mug in the sink, Mac said, “Seriously though, I want you to feel safe sharing with me when you feel like this, Riles.” He leaned against the sink. “Let me help you.”

Riley crossed to him, finally closing the gap between them, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Okay,” she agreed, head resting on his shoulder. She sighed. “I really don’t want to go to work today, but if I get any more behind on that damn project I am going to pull my hair out.”

Mac pressed a single kiss where her neck met her shoulder. “Your hair is beautiful. Please don’t pull it out.” Gently, he unwound Riley’s scrunchie, letting her hair tumble down her back so he could play with it.

“Just for you.”

They stood like that as long as they could, before they really did need to get ready for work. “I need to shower,” Mac finally said, ruining the quiet moment. “Care to join me?”

Riley raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t want to be late.”

A very serious shower,” Mac amended. “No funny business.”

“Right.” Riley kissed him until Mac couldn’t hold back his grin. “No funny business. Now where have I heard that before?”

Laughing, Mac dragged his girlfriend toward the bathroom.

#beth writes #macgyver #macriley #three updates in a week?#who am i??#i+can't+lose+you #sort of an epilogue but not really

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yesmooshoe · 5 years ago

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6) (i) from the AU list for ironhusbands? 👀💖

You’ve got a date tonight and you asked for advice on what to wear but I’m so in love with you and damn you look good in the outfit I picked out for you.

“Rhodey Rhodey Rhodey! I need help!” Tony cried out as he burst through the front door of their drafty apartment.

Rhodey’s head shot up to look at him, but he didn’t move from the nest he’d created on their couch. He was wrapped in several blankets with a few large stacks of books and notebooks surrounding him. Mid-Terms started next week, and he had a lot of material to get through.

As Tony stumbled over some of Rhodey’s books on his way into the living room, he finally noticed all of the shopping bags that Tony was carrying.

“Did you get a haircut?” Rhodey asked, seeing that his friend’s usually unkempt hair was freshly trimmed and styled.

“Yeah, and I got a bunch of new clothes. I have a date! An actual date! And all of my clothes are trash and I’ve got no idea what to wear so I went to the mall and just like bought everything that looked cool because I just really want her to think I’m cool.” Tony rambled as he dropped the bags to the floor and started tearing through them.

“Wait, hold up. You have a what?”

“A date!” Tony said with a big smile.

“With who?” Rhodey asked as he closed his book, realizing that this was going to be a thing. Tony didn’t date. If he wasn’t at the apartment he was either at class or in the robotics lab, and he didn’t really have any other friends.

Until this year, at least. Tony was 17 and finally the same age as some of his fellow classmates, so Rhodey had noticed him being a bit more social. Still, Rhodey felt very protective, and while he’d never admit it out loud, he kind of missed having Tony all to himself.

“Uh, Amy Lin? She’s a freshman! And she’s on the robotics team and she’s just super cool and smart and we were sitting outside today and she was like 'hey do you want to go out sometime?' and I was like 'what do you mean, we're already outside.' and then she laughed and was like 'no like...go out. On a date.' and I just felt like such an idiot and I didn't know what to say but eventually I managed to say yes I think and well now we're going on a date! And I have no idea what to wear, you gotta help me. Everything I own is ripped or has burn holes from welding or is covered in grease and who knows what else and I just want to look good."

Rhodey resisted the urge to tell him that he'd look good in a paper bag, and did his best to swallow his own jealousy before he started helping him look through the bags.

The crush on Tony was very new.

Two years ago Tony had just been this quiet, nerdy kid who didn't know how to do his own laundry and was afraid of his own shadow. This year though? This year he was just different. Over the Summer he'd grown a few more inches, gotten his braces off, discovered contact lenses, and overall just came off as more mature and confident. Rhodey's jaw had literally dropped when he saw him for the first time at the beginning of the semester, and ever since then he'd been struggling with a lot of feelings.

"Uhh, ok. Well first of all, where are you going?" Rhodey asked as he pulled out item after item, which ranged from a leather jacket to a tuxedo, so he wasn't sure what the vibe was going to be.

"Bowling."

Rhodey just laughed. "You bought a brand new tuxedo to go bowling? Is that what you rich white people do?"

"I...I mean, I don't know. She mentioned maybe getting dinner at one point and I think I just panicked like what if she wanted to go somewhere fancy instead of bowling and all of a sudden and I just started grabbing everything I could possibly need." Tony explained, sounding a bit exasperated.

"Dude, take a deep breath. It's going to be ok."

"I know I just...I want to do everything right. I want her to like me, ya know?"

"She will! She already does. She asked you out, didn't she?"

"Yeah but...I don't know. I don't know what to do. I'm just not used to this. People liking me. I’ve always been so much younger than everyone at school and no one ever talked to me and I always just feel like I missed out on learning how to be a normal teenager. I don’t know how to date." Tony admitted, being way more candid about his feelings than Rhodey was used to.

"You don’t have to worry about that anymore. Just go out and have fun. Be yourself."

"I’m just afraid she’s going to see what a huge nerd I am and change her mind."

“You guys are on the robotics team. You’re both nerds. It’ll be fine.

“I just -

“Tony.” Rhodey Interrupted. He hated when Tony got like this, and something in him just snapped. “Stop being so down on yourself. You’re funny and smart and sweet and you tell great stories and you’re so enthusiastic about your work and about learning new things so that you can change the world. You’re incredible. And I’m sorry that no one in your life has ever told you that before, but it’s all true and if she sees what I see then...then she’ll love you, ok?”

Tony was just staring at him like a deer in headlights, and Rhodey immediately knew that he’d said way too much. He just hated when Tony got like this, and he wanted him to just see how great he actually was.

“Rhodey I…” Tony started, clearly unsure of what to say in response to that, and Rhodey’s stomach just dropped. Had he completely fucked this up? Had he made everything weird? There was nothing weird about telling your friend that you love him, right? Even if you did happen to have a huge crush on that friend?

They were both silent for what felt like forever, though in reality it was only a few seconds.

“You’ll be fine. Anyway. So when is this date?”

Tony glanced down at his watch. “I’m supposed to meet her in 45 minutes.”

“Well, then we’d better get to work.” Rhodey said as he stood up and grabbed an armload of clothes.

They made quick work of it, just putting Tony in jeans, a red t-shirt, the leather jacket, and a fresh pair of Chuck Taylors. They were a little quiet at first, but soon they found their way back to the joking and teasing they were used to. As Tony stood in the hallway trying to fix his hair the way the lady at the hair salon had told him too, Rhodey just stood back and admired his work. There was nothing spectacular about the clothes, but they were new and clean and fit him well. And the leather jacket was driving Rhodey crazy. As he watched Tony from behind, he wanted nothing more than to grab him, pin him against the wall, and have his way with him.

There were a million reasons why he shouldn’t do that, especially since he was literally about to leave to go on a date with someone else. With a girl.

“How do I look?” Tony asked, spinning around and giving him a big smile.

“Great.” Rhodey replied simply, resisting the urge to say hot. He didn’t want to make anything else weird.

Tony seemed unsure, but looked at his watch again and took a deep breath. “Right. Well, I gotta go. Thank you. For everything. Don’t study too hard, all right?” He said with a little smile before taking one more look at himself in the mirror and then heading out.

Rhodey tried to focus on studying after that, but he just couldn’t. He was jealous, he was embarrassed, and most of all he was horny. He took care of the latter problem a few minutes after Tony left, but after that he just laid on his bed and started at a crack in the ceiling while a million thoughts raced through his head.

This crush on Tony was stupid. Tony obviously wasn’t gay, right? And being gay in the Air Force sounded like a not-so-great idea anyway, so Rhodey really had to work on resisting these crushes if he ever wanted the chance to fly. Still, he couldn’t get that image of Tony in the leather jacket out of his mind, nor could he get over how jealous he felt.

He figured that the best way to get over it was to distract himself, so he got up, took a cold shower, ate some dinner, and settled in back on the couch to watch TV and wait for Tony to get home. Despite the jealousy, he wanted to hear about the date and how it went. He just wanted Tony to be happy, and if dating Amy made him happy, then he’d do his best to be enthusiastic about it. At least on the surface.

Not long after Rhodey settled on the couch Tony came home and immediately plopped down next to him.

“Hey, you’re home early. How’d it go?” Rhodey asked, genuinely shocked that he was home. It hadn’t even been two hours, and he was just glad that he hadn’t decided to jerk off again.

“Yeah, it was fine. I mean, I had fun. We bowled and had some pizza and then sketched up an idea on a napkin for a bowling robot that we might try to build next week.” Tony said as he stared at the floor while fidgeting around with his zipper. “And then like, we were in the arcade part. Playing pinball. And she kissed me.”

“Well hey! That’s good, right?”

“I don’t know. It was weird. I mean, I’ve never kissed anyone before so I’ve not got much to compare it too. But like, it was like kissing my sister. If I had a sister, I guess. I don’t know. Just didn’t do much for me.” Tony admitted quietly, and Rhodey had no idea how to respond to that. Luckily, Tony kept talking. “And then it was a little awkward and she said that she didn’t feel like bowling anymore so we turned in our shoes and then she said that she thought that maybe we should just be friends.”

“Oh. Well shit, that sucks man, I’m sorry. But this is only your first date, there are plenty of other girls out there! There’s even at least 1 more on the robotics team, right? I’m sure you’ll find someone that makes you feel that spark.” Rhodey said as he put his hand on Tony’s shoulder. He just didn’t want him getting too down on himself.

Tony just looked up at him and smiled, and it was a look that Rhodey would have to file away to use later. “Thanks. Yeah, it’s fine. She still wants to be friends, so that’s good. Friends are good. I’m gonna go change, ok?”

“Sure.”

Tony stood up to head to his room, but then stopped and hesitated for a moment.

“Tony? You all right?” Rhodey asked as Tony turned to look at him. He was quiet for a moment, like he was searching for what to say.

“Are you doing anything Friday night?” Tony finally asked.

“No.” Rhodey answered, confused.

“Do you - would you be interested in like - going out?”

“W-what?” Rhodey stuttered out as his heart started pounding. This wasn’t actually happening, was it?

“Go out? Like...on a date? I guess? Unless I read that whole situation earlier wrong.”

“I…” Rhodey just trailed off, completely taken by surprise by all of this. “Um. A date?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Uh...ok. Yeah. We can do that, if you’re sure.”

Tony nodded. “I’m sure. Been thinking about it all night.”

“Oh.”

“Ok, so. It’s a date, yeah? Dinner? Movie? I don’t know, that’s what people do, right?” Tony said as he shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets.

“We’ll figure something out.”

Tony nodded again and turned to head to his room.

“Hey, Tony?” Rhodey called out after him, causing Tony to stop and turn to him. “Whatever we do, promise me you’ll wear the leather jacket.” Rhodey said with a confident little smile, finally regaining a bit of composure.

A huge grin spread across Tony’s face, like he was finally relaxing too. “All right.”

Rhodey was terrified, but also so excited that he couldn’t imagine focusing on his notes anymore. After Tony disappeared Rhodey ran straight to his room and to his closet, desperately looking through all of his clothing. Nothing seemed good enough, so he figured he’d have to take a trip to the mall himself tomorrow. He wasn’t sure he could look as good as Tony did in the leather, but he could certainly try.

#rhodee #ironhusbands #tonyrhodey #rhodeytony #james rhodes #tony stark #mooshfics #hello tony looks very good in leather jackets and rhodey agreeeeeeees #asks

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burnt-ghost-toast · 4 years ago

Text

What Falls in Autumn

Percy Weasley x Reader

Summary: A family dinner doesn’t go as planned, and it’s become abundantly clear that topics of marriage and children should be banned from family conversations all together.

Word Count: 1.5k

Author's Note: I see a Percy draft → I get tunnel vision and have to finish it. At one point I reference Harry talking about you (literally a 2 second mention, but it was going to bug me if I didn’t mention this), and that’s because he’s a professor at Hogwarts instead of a wizard cop. Let's be real, he needs a break and Hogwarts is where he belongs. Also assume every Percy fic I write goes out to @writersmacchiato <3

Autumn had brought with it a change in the air, leaves once rich with chlorophyll now fluttered down from trees crisp and red, forever changed by the natural course of life, and Percy sensed it wasn’t just his surroundings, he had changed too.

The war ended a year ago, and he and you had been together for two. Before you, a stroll through the Burrow would have been out of the question. He'd be far too worried about wasting time, or too busy helping his mother, or doing homework until he could pass out late at night exhausted, but with a clear sense of productivity; signs that he was worth keeping around. With you, the burdens of life felt lighter somehow, he had nothing to prove and time was endless. He allowed himself to fall into your world, soft as the breeze that kissed his cheeks.

As he watched you dance around the path, pressing your feet to leaves to hear them give out a final crunch, he felt it again, the sensation of falling. Falling irrevocably in love with you. He paused, struck by the beauty of the situation, and the words fell from his lips, carried in the breeze, and caused you to turn to look at him.

“I love you, too,” you said with a smile you reserved for him and these moments of pure perfection.

Merlin, he could have married you right there.

---------

Dinner in the Burrow also felt like falling, except it was the painful and annoying kind. Every Weasley who was a part of the immediate family, as well as you, Harry, and Hermione, had managed to make the journey for the holidays. All of you sat comfortably around the dining table enjoying the meal Molly had put together.

“It’s so good to have you all here. Our family just keeps expanding and it is wonderful to have everyone all together again, we surely don’t do this enough now that you’re all so grown.” Molly smiled, “and speaking of expanding,” she smiled then wagged a finger at Percy, who sat beside you with a hand on your thigh, then you in turn, “still waiting for you two to get married. Bill’s already tied the knot, heaven knows what Charlie’s planning, and you wouldn’t want your younger siblings getting married before you, would you?” Molly prodded. Charlie had given out a small grumble in protest, but went ignored by his mother, who was determined to get answers, “Any idea when we’ll be having a wedding, Percy? I mean,” she turned to face you, “aren’t you ready to start a family?”

You almost choked, and quickly covered your mouth to recover, before shaking your head.

“Oh, heavens no, Molly! I mean,” You turned to Percy, placing a hand on his forearm, “I love you, dear, but” turning back to Molly, “now isn’t the best time to get married. Percy’s so busy at the Ministry and I have no intentions of giving up my job to raise children. I deal with enough of them at Hogwarts,” you chucked and continued to eat, unaware of the shock from Molly and Percy.

“I’m not that busy at the Ministry, and honestly, I’m sure Hogwarts would be fine without you. How hard is it to find someone to teach students how to brew potions?”

Forks scrapped across a few plates, and a faint ‘oh now you’ve done it’ was heard from George across from you.

“Excuse me? So, my job, where I teach children, something you apparently want now, how two drops of flobberworm mucus, one measure of standard herb ingredients and aconite, and a squill bulb stirred over medium heat could cure common ailments and literally save lives, doesn’t need me because I’m easily replaceable? Is this the stance you are taking right now, really? I’m that useless?” You hadn’t meant to get so aggressive, but you had dedicated much of your adolescent years to becoming the skilled potioneer you were today. Many around this table knew of your struggles during your time at Hogwarts while attempting to learn what you could from a professor who handed out insults like they were candy on Halloween.

“Of course not, you’re blowing this way out of proportion. All I’m saying is that there are plenty of other capable adults who can handle teaching potions.” Percy scoffed.

“You know what, let’s do this later.” You finished, taking in the staring eyes from around the table and believing it best to end the conversation.

“Really? It was just starting to get interesting.” George jest, soon receiving a slap to the arm from Molly, who sat next to him. “Sorry.” he said, having the decency to look a little sheepish.

“It’s not your fault.” You responded.

“Oh, so implying it’s mine.” Percy said off-handedly, but it was enough. You stood abruptly from the table and walked upstairs, unable to deal with Percy or address his family.

The table was quiet, and no one wanted to make the first move, but someone had to, and who better than George?

“Great going Perc, really piling on the reasons they should marry you.”

Molly waved her hands dismissively, “come now, I’m sure they’ll come around. If I can raise all of you, then I’m sure they will do fine with two or three little ones running around.”

“Mum, I don’t think that’s what Percy should be taking away from this.” George responds and Charlie nods, but keeps quiet beyond that, not wanting to take sides, despite clearly taking sides in Percy’s mind.

Percy was embarrassed and annoyed, and was not beyond starting a larger, petty argument. So, he did, “And what do you two know about my partner?” He pointed an accusatory finger at his brothers.

Charlie threw his hands up, “nothing, it’s just if I had to choose between marriage or dragons, I would choose dragons. A job can be very fulfilling.”

“And last time I checked, your partner just stormed away upset and instead of talking to them you’re picking fights with us, so how much do you know?” George sassed.

Percy was ready to let George have it, but the realization hit him harder than a bludger to the chest, which coincidentally, George had hit him with before. Maybe his brother had a point. In fact, what kind of husband would Percy be if he couldn’t even handle a disagreement between the two of you?

“You’re... right.” Percy conceded, standing from the table, “I need to talk to them, please excuse me.” And with that he was hurrying up to his old room.

You were seated by the window taking in the sight that had you smiling only hours ago. The door opening caught your attention, but at seeing who entered, you turned away once again. Percy sat across from you and fiddled with his hands. You refrained from reaching out to steady them, refusing to give in so easily. Admitting his faults had never been a strong suit, used to being perfect, or at least, trying to be perfect. This wasn’t the first time he had been wrong and had to apologize, but it didn’t make the second step any easier.

“I was an idiot.” He said, releasing a breath and steadying his hands against his thighs, “you’re great at your job, in fact, I often talk to Ron about you while at work. He says that Harry says your teaching would put Sn—”

“I don’t want to give it up.” You interjected, while still looking out the window.

“And I don’t expect you to.”

“I’m good at it. Really good,” you gave a soft laugh before feeling your face drop again, “and I don’t know how to raise kids. I don’t want them to have the childhood I had.”

Percy is quiet for a moment. He remembers your time together at Hogwarts. How you would meet him at platform 9 ¾ alone after first year, cry when the school year was coming to an end because you dreaded home more than Snape’s pop quizzes, and spend the Christmas break at the castle every year until he finally invited you to spend it with his family; and that first Christmas with you in fifth year had been the best one of his life. Every moment spent with you usually topped the last. And now he had the audacity to question your feelings?

Percy reached out to hold your hand and placed his free hand on your face. “I know you’d make a great parent because you already make a great partner. You challenge me and support me and-and you make me a better person.” Percy took a shaky breath; everything was rushing to his head and heart. He wanted to give you the world, but for now he would start with a few words. “We don’t need to get married or have children. I love you and want to spend my life with you, no matter the conditions.”

You were teary eyed, and Percy wasn’t doing much better. He felt it again, the shift in the breeze and feeling of falling, he could see you felt it to, and without hesitation you both gave into it. Your lips brushed against each other’s slowly, ‘I love you’s’ finding their way out in whispers between kisses. The whole world was muted beyond each other’s touch.

And this is how you wanted to feel until death do you part.

#fanfic #hp #harry potter #percy weasley #percy weasley x reader #hp x reader #x reader #charlie is right and he should say it louder for the people in the back #george will always have your back and i think that's v sexy of him #this is a snape hate blog #we take his job and smile knowing he'll never bother another person again #<3 #edit: 12/28/20 - a grammar and pronoun mistake

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ilguna · 4 years ago

Text

Redamancy - Chapter Eight (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, murder, HEAVY GORE, mentions of FORCED PROSTITUTION.

wc; 12k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

If it weren’t for the irritating sun rays landing right on your face and into your eyes, you’d bask in this warm feeling forever. It’s like receiving an embrace from spring, herself. Bright sunlight, tolerable temperatures, bees, flowers, sundresses, picnics and comfortable afternoons in the park with your family. You can’t count how many good memories you have from grass fields and playgrounds in District Four.

Watching Alyssum run around the park, making friends and being a kid while she can is the most satisfying part. You can watch her for hours, lose yourself in her carelessness. Your sister hasn’t got a worry in the world to think about, it makes you envy her. A nice house, warm meals, a loving family. None of you are perfect, but you try to be for her.

There’s a lot she’s going to be missing out on already when it comes to parents. She has you, Reed and Mox to fill those roles for her. You’d like to say she can’t miss something she’s never experienced, you’d be lying, though. You miss a regular teenage life that you never got to live, thanks to the Hunger Games. The Capitol is always ruining something, even if they’re not actively trying.

Which brings you back to reality. As much as you’d like to lay here in the soft blankets and keep to your warm spot on the bed, you’ve got to get moving. If the sun is in your eyes already, it only means that your time is up when it comes to sleeping. Like a natural alarm clock, only somehow more annoying, even if it’s not loud and in your face.

You turn onto your back, slowly opening your eyes. You’re met with a white ceiling, smooth and crack-free. Back home in your room, your ceiling has plenty of cracks. When you don’t feel like getting up immediately, you’ll play a game with yourself. See which ones will start on one side of the room and make it to the other. You’ve gotten good at it, and confidently say that there’s a few that go beyond that, they go to the windowsill.

With a gentle sigh, you sit up on the bed, turned toward the window, stretching your arms above your head. It feels good to get the blood pumping through your arms and shoulders again. You can’t really help it when the stretch extends down to your legs. A low moan leaves your lips, and stops dead in your throat when your thighs begin to hurt.

You hum, standing on your feet. It hurts at first, but the more you move around the room, the better you begin to feel. You stare out of the window for a couple of seconds to see that the Capitol is already alive. It’s definitely past noon at this point. So much for a rotating schedule with Finnick, you’ve already ruined it.

You look over the room you’re in, which definitely isn’t your own. It’s Finnick’s, with the bamboo bed frame, white sheets and the hammock across his room. You used to hear him say how much he enjoyed your room over his, something about the ceiling to floor windows that you have. Takes up an entire wall, gives you a great view of the city. Better than the tiny windows he has lining the wall.

The clock says that it’s a little after two. You two really have got to start moving before you miss out on anything inside of the arena. Not to mention, poor Gloss is sitting down there alone. He hasn’t had a friend to sit with since six this morning. A whole eight hours can be boring as hell, and quite frankly, lonely. He might have resorted talking to the sponsors, at this point.

Finnick is still sleeping on the bed, of course. His back is turned to the sun, explaining why he hasn’t woken up just yet. It’s not going to stay that way for very long. You’d leave him sleeping up here if it weren’t for the fact that it’s entertaining to see him hungover. It’s not often you get to see him like that, and you’re not really willing to pass up an opportunity. Plus, you might as well keep him around as company so it doesn’t get awkward later.

Before you wake him up, you find and put on your bra. He got to see all of you last night, there’s no reason to continue to walk around shirtless. You pick up your pants, and tank top, as your shoes are kicked off by the door. You begin to pull on your jeans, having to bounce slightly to pull them up all the way, when Finnick rolls over.

He groans, throwing his arm over his face to keep the sun from getting in his face. You’re satisfied to see that he’s about to get the same unpleasant wakening that you got, until you realize that his arm completely blocks out the light. What a shame, you were looking forward to watching him come to life like a zombie.

“Hey,” your voice is soft, not really wanting to disturb the peace. He doesn’t seem to hear you, or maybe you’re too quiet. You speak a little louder, “We should probably get down to the betting room, check on our tributes.”

Finnick freezes, and then jolts upright. His wide eyes land on you easily, face twisting as he slowly thinks over the scene in front of him. You pull on your tank top, raising your eyebrows as you wait for him to come to the conclusion himself. After a couple more seconds, he hums out a small tune and falls back onto his pillows, closing his eyes.

“I thought I was still at a client’s house for a second.” he breathes.

“Good morning,” you muse, “How are you feeling?”

“Besides the pounding headache, my back’s pretty messed up.” his eyes open, giving you a sly smirk. You grab one of his shoes, which aren’t as close to the door as yours are, and chuck it at him. Finnick laughs loudly, catching the shoe before it makes a hole in the wall, “I’m fine, considering that I finished half of your drink last night on top of mine.”

“One of us had to be responsible, and I figured that you wouldn’t want to be the one.”

“The next time we go out, I’m going to make you loosen up.” Finnick says.

“If you’re calling me uptight, I’ll shove a stick up your ass so you can see how it feels.” you lean against the wall.

He rolls his eyes, getting out of bed. He’s got a pair of boxers on, so he’s not completely naked either, “How are you feeling?”

“Well rested, actually. Your bed is pretty comfortable.”

“You’re welcome to sleep here any time.” Finnick says, kicking yesterday’s jeans into the corner, as well as the shirt.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” you snort, collecting your shoes, “I’m going to take a shower and get ready. I’ll see you in the dining room.”

“Sure.”

You leave his room, shutting the door behind you. In your own, you quickly change and throw the dirty clothes off to the side for easy collecting when the avoxes come around later. It’s not as hot inside of the Tribute Center as it was yesterday, but the heat is still apparent enough to be one of the first things on your mind. You settle for a pair of shorts, sandals and a white tank top.

You throw the pile of clothes onto the bathroom countertop. The door whooshes shut behind you, sending a cold breeze of air straight to your back. Much like yesterday, you turn the shower water to cold, just on the verge of being warm. You decide to skip getting your hair wet, since you don’t really have time to mess around. It’s a quick wash with sweet smelling soaps before you’re out again.

As you’re drying yourself with the cyan blue towel, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. And with what you see the first time briefly, you have to go back to check that you saw correctly. A scowl appears on your face when you get closer, fingers gently brushing against your collarbone. Little dark marks litter your skin.

You press your lips together, staring for a couple of seconds longer. You have no choice, you have to cover these up. So, you pull on your clothes and get to work with the makeup, trying to find colors that’ll cancel out the hickey colors. You spend a good ten minutes blending, color correcting, and starting over when it’s too obvious. When you’re finally done, you can still tell that they’re there, but it won’t be the first thing anyone sees when they look at you.

You’d just wear a regular shirt if it weren’t for the fact that you’re already sweating with the tanktop on. You put on the sandals on your way out, making sure your ring is secured on your hand. Finnick is already sitting at the dining room table when you get out there, hair wet and he’s dressed in pink and white.

“Took you long enough.” he says, stabbing his fork into a pancake piece and placing it in his mouth.

You glare as you sit down on the chair, “I had a problem. Actually, you gave me a couple of problems and I solved them.”

His face twists, eyeing you now, trying to find the difference. When a plate of pancakes is served in front of you, plate hot to the touch, you cut up the pancakes, slightly amused by his determination to try and prove you wrong. Does he really think that he’ll be able to? You’ve gone through this plenty of times before with Anchor.

Finnick shrugs, “Whatever you say.”

At least now you have insurance that you did a good job. Finnick might be some type of moronic but that doesn’t mean he misses details. It’s the small things that you have to look out for. Another skill that you need when you’re mentoring, another thing to add to the list that you’ve gotten good at after these years. From what you remember, Finnick’s not too bad at it, himself.

The avox turns on the tv without either of you asking, but you thank him anyway. As you go for fruits instead of syrup this morning, you catch up on the arena with Finnick. Sanguin is in the cornucopia, a fire going in front of her. She’s got some sort of animal skewered using her sword, roasting it over the fire. She looks pissed, staring into the fire, letting the flames flicker in her eyes.

You’d like to say that she finally lost her mind, but she lost it a long time ago. Way before Bauhinia. Maybe while she was being strategically trained to think that the other tributes in the arena were animals? Or maybe when she volunteered for the Hunger Games like it would be a walk in the park? It’s hard to say exactly, there’s a lot of moments in these past few weeks where she could’ve gone wrong.

At any rate, she’s got enough water to last her a while. You can confidently say that she won’t be leaving the cornucopia unless it’s to get more food. There’s no way that the sponsors are going to cough up any money just for her to eat. Especially when she’s supposed to be trained for the arena. She should know how to hunt and gather. Besides, you’re sure that Gloss would want them to wait until it’s something important, like that healing cream. Even then, it took a couple of people to pitch in. The prices are getting amped up, it’s harder to pay for things now.

You have a feeling that she’s sitting down there for a reason, instead of going off and trying to hunt down any other tributes. She’s healed by now, you watched her put more healing cream on her body last night before she decided to call it a night. Which means that this morning, the entire wound has got to be gone. She’s still going to be sore when moving around, but that’s an obvious nuisance. She technically should be able to work through it.

So, if she’s not interested in hunting Tekla, that means she’s waiting for Annie to come out of the village. And you’d say that’s a pretty big problem, except for the fact that it’s not. Annie’s got plenty of food and water from her raid on the career backpacks and whatever Marsh was holding before he died. If she doesn’t want to, she won’t have to leave the house unless it’s for some sort of Capitol-generated emergency.

After yesterday, you can’t see them doing something like that. You don’t even think that both tributes dying were intentional. They like to watch the last couple of teens fight it out, since they’re the ones that are either: one, completely trained for the arena and know how to take another tribute out with a simple tree branch and a rock. Or, they’re completely lucky and know how to blend into their surroundings and stay there until the Capitol is forced to step in. They only do it when there’s been several days without any interaction between tributes and the Capitol citizens are starting to riot.

Those tributes are the ones that can go days without food. Water, not so much, but they’ll find a source nearby and stick with it as long as they can without getting suspicious. It’s not an impressive feat to go days without eating, it just goes to show the horrible living conditions inside of the other districts. Fortunately, your family hit rock bottom, but you never had to keep digging.

As for Annie, she’s still looking pretty dead inside of her house. She’s moved to a different corner that gives her a better look to see. It looks like she’ll doze off for a second before jerking upright, hand tightening around her sword. You saw her sleep last night, it was the whole reason why you and Finnick decided it was acceptable to leave the betting room in the first place. With the peace of mind of knowing that Annie was finally getting the rest she needed.

When you were at the bar, you didn’t really keep track of what was going on inside of the arena. Which, looking back on it, probably wasn’t a brilliant idea in the first place. If there was an emergency with Annie, knowing as soon as possible would’ve hypothetically saved her life. But you also just wanted one moment for yourself, with Finnick and a drink. It wasn’t much to ask for, and you’re sure that it was well-deserved. If it wasn’t, Annie would be dead in a ditch right now.

To some extent, she might as well be. While Sanguin is fueled with hate-fire right now--literally. Annie looks like her soul has been ripped out of her body. She’s pale, the previous kind girl light in her eyes is gone. She looks like a corpse, freshly pulled out of the coffin. You wish you’ve seen this before, because maybe that would make it easier to understand why she isn’t grieving like normal. Normally, tributes cry for hours, sometimes days until they have to pull it together to win. Annie is just… she’s completely lifeless. Actually, she looks like she’s given up with trying to survive inside of the arena. Which is a dangerous mindset to adapt, especially now.

Just two more tributes to burn through, all she has to do is hold on. Let Sanguin and Tekla fight it out, hope that one kills the other, and the one gets severely injured enough to bleed out and die. It would make the whole thing a lot easier on her, you know that. The last thing she’d probably need on her plate right now, is another death. She’s already got two genuinely impressive ones--taking out the male careers? You’re the only other person who has done that in the past five years. And she’s witnessed the death that would affect her, and it’s taking its toll already. It’s been two days.

Well, as long as Annie stays where she is, eats, drinks and sleeps when she needs to, she won’t have to worry about anything. However, this idea also goes for Sanguin, on the assumption that Tekla isn’t bold enough to go ahead and attack her uninvited. Sanguin’s also set for days--if she has extra food stored somewhere in the case of emergencies.

The only person that might get bored and start causing havoc is Tekla. She’s in the woods by herself, in a patch of grass unguarded by trees. She lays in the sun with her eyes closed, hands laced behind her head. Looking exactly like she did on the first couple of days inside of the arena. This time, she has a good reason to be carefree. Before, she had more than ten other tributes to worry about, all fighting to go home. Now it’s down to two others. It should be a walk in the park, if it weren’t for the fact that she’s being put up against two careers.

You wonder what her odds look like right now. They hadn’t changed last night, not even after she killed Seven boy. But now that it officially looks like she’s going to make it to one of the final fights and be crowned victor, she’s gotta have moved up. District Nine hasn’t had a victor in a long, long time. Their last one was a guy, and he’s the first male to be put into the mentor spot. If you remember correctly, there’s only five victors in Nine, which means that four of them are female.

Figures that their new potential victor would be a girl, right?

It looks like you don’t really have anything to worry about arena-wise. Really, if you wanted to, you could just stay inside of the apartment. With half-alive Annie, vengeful Sanguin and cheerful Tekla, it’s safe to say that today’s a free day. Things could change, but that’s just your prediction. The only reason you’d have to go down to the betting room is to show up for Gloss, but he doesn’t really matter, does he? You can just go and see him tomorrow.

“You’ve got a look on your face.” Finnick says, your eyes find him to see that he’s staring.

“So?” you stab a strawberry and place it in your mouth, resisting the momentary sour expression before the sweetness takes over.

“It’s your indecisive look.”

Now, your face twists, “I do not have an indecisive look--”

He laughs, “It’s unmistakable! You get the look when you’re thinking over something important.”

“Like a decision?” you ask, trying to be serious, but you end up laughing.

He seems to let it go for a moment, until he’s looking at you again, “What was it?”

You shrug, “I was just thinking that we wouldn’t have to go down to the betting room if we didn’t want to. The silence in the arena gives us a couple of liberties that we wouldn’t have on a normal day.”

“Oh, so you do have a relaxed side.” Finnick thoroughly enjoys the face you make, raising your fist as a threat to punch him in the arm again. You wonder how far he can push you before you finally give him a nasty bruise, “And you also woke me up for nothing.”

“Technically you woke yourself, I just spoke.” you shrug, “Can I get some more coffee?”

“Might as well go back to bed while I can, then.” Finnick says, but he doesn’t move from where he’s sitting.

You wait, receive your coffee, and let him stare at you for a little while, “What are you waiting for?”

“It wouldn’t be responsible--” he mocks the word in your voice, “--to go back to bed, wouldn’t it?”

You glare, “Finnick, you have the night shift, anyway. Stay awake, go back to bed, get drunk at The Victory Speech, have dinner with Gloss, I don’t give a shit.”

“You seem like you want me to go away.” he says, “I think I’ll stick with you, then.”

“Fine by me.” you scoop up your coffee mug, taking it with you when you go downstairs to sit on the couch. You pull out a coaster to not ruin the pristine glass table.

There’s not much to watch the tributes do at all. Sanguin roasts her food, and you think she ends up daydreaming some, because she burns the bottom side of the meat. Doesn’t even wrinkle her nose or look fazed when she bites straight into that part, even when it disintegrates in her mouth the more she chews. After she’s done eating, she moves to the back of the cornucopia, hiding behind a stack of boxes to take a nap.

Annie turns her knife over in her hand, spinning it between her fingers before she knicks herself one too many times. After that, she settles for pulling out a line of rope from her backpack, tying and untying knots. It’s a common hobby that people use to soothe anxiety and pass time when there’s nothing else to do. Doesn’t surprise you that she’s resorted to this. Although, you do begin to worry slightly when you watch her jump at the slightest of sounds and nearly get up every single time to check.

You’d say it’s a reasonable response, thinking that Sanguin is after her. But the house creaks the same way every time, lets out the same groan each time the wind blows too hard. It’s not like they’re new sounds. She should’ve picked up on this by now, realized that there’s no need to get ready to hurry into battle. Watching her grab her knife, lean forward, and listen for any other sounds over and over begins to make you feel antsy.

“There’s something wrong with Annie.” Finnick says.

You hum, “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

“What do you think it is?”

You shake your head, “Still working on that idea.”

“Anything you’ve seen before?”

“If I have, I don’t remember.” You lean back into the couch, “Let’s just wait and see how bad it gets.”

And the truth is, it gets worse, because it can always get worse. The good news is that you’ve figured out how to help her, on top of figuring out the problem in the first place. The bad news is that it requires a sponsor. And like you said earlier, all the prices have gone up. Getting one now would be a nightmare, but you have to try anyway.

As you go down to the betting room with Finnick, you think it over.

Annie is suffering from paranoia. She’s obviously shell-shocked from watching Marsh die, otherwise she would be acting normally. You guess that allowing two tributes that have known each other for a handful of years, go inside of the arena together wasn’t the brightest idea. But it’s not like you could control it. You don’t think that they even planned for it to happen, it was just a coincidence.

This is just one part of the problem, watching Marsh die. She also might be feeling guilty because she didn’t try harder to keep him from going. It makes the most sense. She tried to convince him to stay, but the second he showed resistance, she caved and followed. Guilt like this will haunt someone forever. If she wins, she’ll be stuck with thinking that Marsh could’ve gone a better way.

You know this, because you carry around a considerable amount of guilt, too.

The last part, concerning Annie, is the fact that she hasn’t slept in a while. Paranoia feeds off insomnia. Getting an hour or two of sleep after watching your friend die right in front of you, in arguably one of the worst ways possible, is an unfortunate series of events. She can’t prevent not being able to sleep, so you’ll just help her as best as you can.

When you presented all of this to Finnick, he agreed. Said that he was thinking something along the lines of what you are. The only hiccup that he’s worried about is finding sponsors wealthy enough to sponsor this late into the games. They also have to be betting on her too, so that if she does win, they’ll get the return in full.

The betting room seems slightly busier than usual. Like you predicted earlier, Gloss decided to go ahead and take company in the Capitol people. Tekla’s mentor seems busy off in the corner, with people that don’t look like they nearly have enough money to sponsor this late in the game. It wouldn’t be any use trying to steal them, just a waste of time.

Gloss knows people, but that would mean to interrupt what he’s doing right now, which seems fairly important. The group of people that Finnick had approved of is thin, pooling their money together wouldn't even buy a loaf of bread. Much less what you’re thinking about right now.

It only leaves a couple of people, ones you haven’t talked to in days. You stop a couple of steps inside of the room, allowing Finnick to come in and shut the door behind him. He waits there for a moment, before coming around the side.

“What are you waiting for?” His voice is slightly hushed. No one has really taken notice of your appearance just yet. If needed, you could probably slip out the door and no one would know the difference.

You look at him.

You made an agreement, take his advice on who to be around and who to stay away from, and he’ll help you. You thought that it would be easy then, because you didn’t need the sponsors. Annie and Marsh had a strategy down, they didn’t look like they’d be needed help anytime soon. They had everything they needed at the moment. But now that Annie needs something more, you’re stuck.

Having Finnick around to be a second body, a second pair of hands and eyes and ears, has made a difference. You’ve slept well, you’ve been allowed to hang out with friends when given the opportunity, and you can finally pace yourself. No more running around like it’s life or death, or being afraid to sleep because an arena is particularly dangerous.

However, you can do it alone. Annie’s needs right now is going to come before whatever requirements Finnick has. Bringing a tribute home is crucial, buddying with Finnick is a perk. If he gets mad at you for this, there's always next year.

“I need you to come with me and not intervene, or go back upstairs.” You say, squeezing the finger your ring is on.

His face twists, “It depends—“

“No. You go upstairs, or you don’t intervene.” You start towards the sponsors, “I mean it, Finnick.”

You’re not even halfway across the room before they spot you. You smile at them, letting them welcome you. When you don’t feel Finnick’s presence behind you like normal, you turn to look. The door is sweeping shut, you briefly catch a glimpse of him leaving.

The sponsors are happy to see you again, you talk with them for a while, and watch what goes on inside of the arena. It’s all small talk, or questions about what you feel like is going to happen. Until they finally bring up Annie, how she’s doing. And just because you can’t hold it in, you spill it all out, being completely honest with them.

Annie is hurting right now, and she can’t help it. She can’t simply fall asleep because she’s afraid of the nightmares and the vulnerability that comes with it. There’s always the possibility that her body simply isn’t letting her sleep, too. She’s not physically tired, so why would she lay down and try? So, you think that if you find something that’ll make her drowsy, she’ll feel more inclined to.

You can’t guarantee that it’ll work, but it’s worth a try if it means that she wins the games, right? The sponsors seem to think so, and with a budget, you bring them over to the sponsoring table. Everything under the sun is allowed to be sent to them. Name it, and thye’re probably have it. It’s just the price that makes it impossible to work around.

You know for sure that pills are out of the question. The second you see the price, you’re switching gears. Medicine? Maybe. You look at all the options they have for tributes for when they’re sick. You’ve seen a handful of these brands in District Four, all of them expensive. With the money that the Capitol gives you, you can finally afford them. Which means that Alyssum doesn’t have to suffer through colds like before. The medicine works wonders, but the Capitol version will be too much for her to handle. It might as well be a tranquilizer.

Something more natural, then. Those are always cheaper. You go through it, seeing the little vials of brightly colored liquids and the contents. Ones to make you throw up, give adrenaline if the tribute is dying, allergy medicine to save them from anaphylactic shock. And finally, one for sleeping. Without a moment of hesitance, you tap on it.

They all pitch in a certain amount, allowing the vial to be covered in full. You thank them, with assurance that it won’t go to waste. Annie is a tough tribute, she’ll be able to win. All she needs is a little sleep to reset her body, hopefully start her over. It’s like shutting something completely off before trying again.

You take a breath before writing on the paper, ‘Drink it all’.

You get to stand back and watch as the gamemakers find the best way to send it to her. You don’t doubt that she’ll hear the noise that the gifts make. Especially if she’s hearing noises that aren’t being picked up on the microphones. It’s where they have to drop it off to make sure it doesn’t get caught on anything on the way down, like a corner of a roof.

The chiming is a sound that you still hear in your nightmares. You watch as the silver parachute glides through the air, slowly moving between the houses. At first, it doesn’t seem to alarm Annie, but then she jolts, pauses to make sure she’s hearing it right, and then gets up. She shoves her knife into her belt, carefully goes down the stairs so that it doesn’t break beneath her.

She looks more alive like this, the color has returned to her face slightly, she’s got a smile hinting at the corner of her lips. When she finally comes out of the house, swinging the door open and letting in the natural light, she cries out in shock and covers her eyes. She mutters out a few curse words, squinting through the sun until her eyes adjust.

She spots the gift in the middle of the walkway. The smile grows more, scooping the tin into her hand. She gives the area around her a little look-around before disappearing back into the house, shutting the door and locking it. Even though it looks like the lock won’t do much for her anymore. The doorknob is practically falling off.

She makes it all the way to the third floor, back into the corner of her room. She slips down the wall and pops open the lid of the container. The first thing that Annie sees inside is the note, which she reads over carefully before moving it out of the way for the vial. It’s small, not at all as big as they normally sell them earlier on, but those ones also have the tendency to knock a person out for a whole day. This will just keep her asleep for a few hours, maybe the entire night if she drinks it now. You hope that she’ll be up at a reasonable time tomorrow.

Annie uncaps it carefully, and takes a small sniff. You can’t imagine that she recognizes the smell, even though it is sort-of distinct. If the medicine is fresh, it’ll usually smell sweet. If it’s not, then it’s stale, maybe a little sour. Obviously, one is more desirable than the other, but it works the same either way. Whether or not it’s fresh doesn’t affect the way it works.

When Annie is satisfied with the smell, she goes ahead and caps it again. There’s no directions, so she’s going to have to decide how she wants to do this. The sun will be setting in an hour, maybe two. Annie eats some dry foods, drinks some water. It’s smart, her wanting to get food into her body beforehand. If it were you, you probably would’ve just settled for drinking it straight, it might have worked faster that way.

She drinks it, slipping to the floor. She pulls the sleeping bag over herself, closing her eyes. It’s going to take a second to kick in, but it’s enough time for you to go upstairs and out of the betting room. You’ll be back down here bright and early tomorrow, there’s no point spending more time than you have to.

You thank the sponsors, shake hands and exchange hugs. Before you leave the room, you see that the Afternoon Line Odds are all the same. Sanguin’s is 2-1, Annie is 3-1, Tekla is 7-1. All very good odds, but not as good as Sanguin. Hopefully, that’ll change within the next couple of days. You leave the room before Gloss can see that you’re down there.

You spent a good hour or so just talking to the sponsors. The fastest part was getting them to agree on sending Annie a gift. It wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it would be. Finnick makes all of them out to be like criminals, constantly looking for their next fix. But they understand that you’re not like that. They can have their eyes on you all they want, it’s not going to happen.

Just before you go inside of the apartment, you’re sure that Finnick isn’t going to be out in the living room, or he’s not going to be inside of the apartment all together. However, when you step inside, you’re surprised to see that he’s on the couch, his arms crossed. He doesn’t bother to look over, not even after you shut the door. You almost feel guilty for doing what you did.

Almost.

You sit on the couch next to him, pull your legs up beneath you, and sit in silence. There’s no point to try and talk to him right now. You know that he’d probably like a moment to cool off. It might even be better if you didn’t sit in here at all, so he won’t be fuming next to you. But it’s not like you have much of a choice. You can’t just go back downstairs and sit in the betting room, that would be stupid. If Finnick’s right about the sponsors, there’s no reason to stay around them more than you have to.

So, silence it is. It’s a while before either of you have anything to talk about. Annie should be asleep by now, an entire hour later. There’s no way that the vial would take more than five minutes, even with a full stomach. Still, you watch as her eyes open, a frown appearing on her face, eyebrows turning in.

Your mouth falls open, you stand from the couch, “That’s not good.”

“What did you give her in the first place?” Finnick asks.

“It’s one of those natural sleeping medicines, the expensive ones?” you briefly look at him, before you go back to the tv, “Costed a fortune, so it should’ve worked. The gamemakers wouldn’t send a dud, right?”

“Probably not.”

You sit back down onto the couch, hands falling into your lap. You made sure that it was the sleeping medicine, and not the sick stuff either. The only other option that was left for Annie besides this, was the herbal tea. And that shit hardly ever works for you, or your siblings when you use it back home. The most the tea would do anyway, is make her drowsy, not even a guarantee.

It’s a good thing that you didn’t even consider the tea, because if the vial did nothing, Annie would be able to drink the entire box of tea and still not feel a single thing. The medicine was a waste of money, and who knows what it’s going to do to her. Make her even more delirious than she already is? Like she, or you guys, need that at all. You were already worried over her paranoia, now you’ve got to be worried about her accidentally killing herself?

There’s nothing you can do about it now. You’ve just got to sit back and wait to see if it kicks in, after all. There’s no point in going downstairs to tell the sponsors it was some sort of mistake, because you really didn’t know that this was going to happen. If you did, you probably wouldn’t have bothered in the first place. Everything is worth a try until it’s wasting resources. You might have been able to use the sponsor money later on.

Still, you have to sit and painfully watch as Annie progressively gets worse. Turns out, that if you don’t fall asleep with the medicine, it starts to work as a hallucinogenic. On top of Annie’s paranoia, she’s not hallucinating she’s hearing noises, and maybe even seeing things. You close your eyes and rest them against your palms when you lean forward, not really liking to hear Annie go through it.

It’s stupid. You’re not even sure how Annie’s resisting the drug, anyway. She’s not doing it on purpose, she clearly recognized the smell if she laid down immediately after. And it’s not like they had any sort of drugs available for hallucinations. No mentor would willingly give their tributes something like that, so why would it be offered?

No matter what happens, though, you’re glad to see that Annie doesn’t leave the house. She stays where she is, clutching onto her knife, staring into space. She’s just like how she was before you sent her the sponsor gift. Only this time around, she’ll randomly jump as if there’s been a loud sound, and then her eyes will follow things in front of her, even when there’s nothing there.

Elysia comes into the apartment around the same time you guys normally eat dinner, a little out of breath, “Oh, there you guys are!”

You look over your shoulder to see that she’s dressed in lime green and black. The black helps accentuate the green part, which you’re not really sure is a good thing. You’re sure that everyone can see her coming from a mile away, literally.

“You were looking for us?” you ask, she nods, heading over to you and Finnick.

“In the betting room, I thought you’d be down there since you normally are.”

Figures that the one time you wouldn’t be down there, she’d go, “Looked like there wasn’t much going on today so I thought we could stay up here. I only went down there to send the gift.”

“I saw that.” she says, “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

You three do it over dinner. With Elysia hardly eating and doing most of the talking, Finnick watching the tv and only chiming in when he’s needed, and you trying to do all three at the same time. It’s easy for the most part. Remember when you said that you got good at multitasking? This is an example of that.

She mostly tells you what you already figured out, which is that it turns out to be a hallucinogenic after a while. It should wear off, but it’ll take hours to do. Like, for the amount of time she should have been asleep for. She’s already got a couple of hours under her belt, you’d say that by tomorrow morning, she’ll be back to normal. So, there’s no reason to sit around and wait.

You and Finnick can get a full night of sleep for once. You just have to get up early tomorrow morning to assess the damage. You’re sure that it’ll be fairly easy to do, you’ll have to get yourself into the habit of waking up early again, anyway. You’ve got the boarding school to worry about. Anchor won’t want to do it alone forever.

Before you give it up tonight, you check the tv one last time. Annie is in her room, so she’s fine. Sanguin looks like she’s officially laying down to sleep, her weapons are displayed around her, all ready to be picked up and used at any time. As for Tekla, she’s made a bed in her little clearing in the trees. However, she’s bold, with a fire going that is distinguishable in the dark. She’s lucky that the back of the cornucopia is turned towards her, otherwise Sanguin would be more than tempted to take Tekla out.

You head back to your room after dinner, mainly to brush your teeth. You pace in your room for a moment, caught in the decision of whether or not to talk to Finnick or to leave him to be angry on his own. You’re sure that he’d appreciate being by himself, but there’s also this morning and last night to talk about. You can’t really just leave those alone, who knows what kinds of problems they’ll cause in the future.

“Okay.” you sigh, heading out of your room and to his. You knock on his door, waiting a second, “Finnick?”

It’s a couple more beats of silence, “Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

You open the door to see that Finnick is sitting on the corner of the bed. He looks up when you step inside, you shut it behind you, and lean against the door, “I’m sorry about earlier. I know we had an agreement, but the sponsors were at my disposal. I decided that I might as well, because I was sure that it would work.”

“And it should’ve.” Finnick mutters, “I would just like it if you wouldn’t go and do it again.”

“Yeah, I won’t. I don’t even have the options for it.” you laugh slightly, he cracks a smile, “You should probably know that I prioritize my mentoring job over everything else. If it’s the needs of the tributes versus you, I’m going to pick the tributes every time.”

“I know, you don’t have to be sorry for it.”

“Good, cause I wasn’t.” you grin.

Finnick rolls his eyes, “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“You can probably guess what it is.”

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with the horribly covered up hickeys, would it?” He’s cheeky now.

“Maybe.” you give him a soft smile, “I’d just like to know what we’re doing, and if we’re going to continue on with it.”

Finnick makes a face, “This is going to sound like shit, but I’ll go with what you want.”

“You’re right, it does sound like shit.” he laughs first, and then you join in, “The thing is, Finnick, is that I don’t have a problem with it. But the last time I checked, you were the one that told me that we weren’t good together. So are you sure that you’ll go with what I want, or are you going to break up with me in a couple of months after you realize it again?”

Finnick opens his mouth, and then closes it. “I deserve that.”

“It wasn’t an explanation, Finnick. In fact, it made things worse when we were just fine on the train, and then you come back from seeing Snow and--!” you’re shaking your head, giving yourself a moment before you start speaking again, “and suddenly I was supposed to know that we weren’t together anymore.”

“But you know why now, right?” Finnick asks.

“Parts of it.” you rub on the ring, “I know that it was because of Snow and the sex work. He made you break up with me to make you more available to the Capitol, right?”

“No, I actually made that decision myself.” he says.

You raise your eyebrows.

Finnick stares, tilts his head for a moment like he’s unsure, “There’s more to it.”

You wait, thinking that he’s just going to give up the information, but he doesn’t, “Okay…?”

“I don’t want to make you feel guilty.”

“Then why’d you say anything at all?”

He laughs, “To not make me look like an asshole.”

You snort.

“Alright well,” Finnick pauses, “President Snow had me taken to his mansion after the train, you know this. He told me that it’s not uncommon for victors to be well received by the Capitol, but I was different because I was handsome or whatever,” his face twists, “And since I was sixteen, I was finally eligible since it’s more morally correct to sell a teen into sex slavery when they’re sixteen and not fourteen.

“Snow said that I didn’t have a choice. I had to get into it or…” Finnick shakes his head, “There wasn’t even an or at the time. He just said that it was something I had to do, and I told him no, because I was finally feeling better and I had you. Then he urged me to say yes, didn’t even tell me that there would be consequences, so I told him no again….”

He’s angry, “And he fucking killed my entire family, gave the order right in front of me. I thought he was kidding, like it was some sort of sick joke until I had to fucking listen to it.” Finnick looks at you, “He didn’t even flinch when the screaming started, or when my brother started crying. I didn’t even know what to do. And after it was over he told me that the next person he’d kill next would likely be you, or your family if he could get to them. Or worse, sell your body too.”

You can feel the blood drain from your face.

“And I didn’t want that to happen, so I said yes. And then I broke up with you because I hoped that it would make the decision a whole lot easier but I think…” he grits his teeth, “I know it would’ve been easier with you to support me.”

No words form in your mouth, you stand in silence as you try to absorb the information.

“I’m…” your eyebrows draw in, “...selfish.”

“No.” Finnick says, “You’re not. You didn’t know, how were you supposed to? I told you nothing, I wanted a clean cut but it turned out to be messy, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing, Finnick?” you look at him, “I’ve been giving you a hard time--why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you come around later?”

“Because you moved on, like you should’ve.”

“I didn’t!” you laugh, moving forward, “Finnick, I hardly spoke to anyone after the year we broke up. My brothers fucking hated you for that entire year because of it. It took forever to convince them otherwise. The entire time, I was hoping that you were going to come around and tell me that it was some stupid prank. I would’ve forgiven you!”

He gives you a smile, “It’s better that I didn’t.”

You give him a look, and then sit on the hammock, “I guess that explains a lot.”

“You guess?” He laughs, “That’s it?”

“There’s not much to say, Finnick.” you shrug, “You said you didn’t want to make me feel guilty and I do anyway.”

“I didn’t have a choice. If you want, you could thank me for saying yes.”

You stare at him, he develops a cheeky smile, “Come on, that was mildly funny.”

“Mildly is the key word.”

The two of you sit in silence for a second, and then you dip your head, “I would be willing to give it another try, if you are.”

“Yeah.”

He’s got a grin on his face, like you just told him he’s getting a car for christmas.

“My brother’s will have to warm up to you again.” you warn him.

“Okay! They liked me before, right? What’s one more time?”

“They hardly give out second chances so you’ll have to consider yourself lucky.”

Finnick softly smiles, “I already am.”

A sharp pain in your chest wakes you in the morning. Your eyes shoot open, sitting upright in bed. It spreads immediately, like your heart is pumping it out; the source of the problem. You try and take a deep breath, hoping that you’ll get your mind off of it, but it makes the pain worse. Mid-breath, you stop, and exhale too deeply, causing another shock to go through you.

A groan leaves your lips, tears appearing in your eyes. You carefully get out of bed, wanting to be on your feet, hoping that laying down was the problem. You make no sudden moves, allowing the blood to make its way to your feet as you pace the room. With your palm, you rub small circles around your chest, which seems to relieve some of the pressure.

The clock on the stand reads eight in the morning, four hours before you actually have to get up and get ready for the day. You have a feeling that if you go and lie back down now, right when the pain is beginning to subside, you’re only going to make it worse. Plus, you don’t think that you’ll be able to fall back asleep, not with the adrenaline running through your body.

You take deep breaths when it doesn’t hurt, starting to feel dizzy from the self-hyperventilation. In no time, the pain is almost completely gone, only lingering in aches every now and then. You stand around for a few minutes longer, watching the sun rise high enough to finally come through the window before deciding that you might as well get ready.

The Tribute Center seems to have found its happy medium between too hot and too cold, as last night it was like existing in a frozen tundra. You’re lucky that the blanket they provide retains heat, otherwise you would’ve been bundled up a lot more than you were. Because of this, you think that you can settle for a lukewarm shower.

You lock your bedroom door before disappearing into the bathroom. The shower runs in the background as you undress, throwing all the dirty clothes by the door. You look over the tattoo on your collarbone, which is practically done healing by now. With the cream that the tattoo artist gave you, it doesn’t take weeks to heal like it does in the districts. As for the one on the back of your neck, it looks like it was done yesterday, when really it was years ago.

When you step inside the shower, you allow the water to run through your hair. You might as well wash it today. The shampoo you use smells like straight sugar, same goes for the conditioner. The bottle says it’s good for your hair, but the list of chemicals on the back is seriously concerning. The bathroom provides a matching body wash that smells exactly like the shampoo. You know for a fact that you saw a body lotion in one of the drawers, a part of you wonders if that’ll be overkill.

You turn the shower off and let the machines dry your body and hair. You decide to use the body lotion anyway, and by the time you realize that it’s glittery, it’s too late. You stare at your hands for a couple of minutes in shame, watching the white shimmer in the light. However, when it’s completely spread over your body and dried, it doesn’t transfer onto your surroundings, so that’s a good sign.

You brush your teeth while manually putting your hair together. You go for half-up, half-down since it’ll keep most of the hair out of your face. In the end, you still pull out a few strands to make sure that your face isn’t bland. Before you can do anything else, you have to get dressed.

The dresser holds plenty of skirts to work with, which you’re not opposed to. You sift through them, figuring that white will be fine. When you hold it up to your hip, you see that the skirt ends above the knee, so Finnick won’t have a reason to freak out. As for the shirt, you settle for a light pink, scoop neck bodysuit, with white underwear. When you finally get the entire outfit put together, you look at yourself in the mirror.

You’re very pretty today. The skirt doesn’t ride up too bad, even when you move quickly. The bodysuit prevents anything serious from showing, just in case the skirt does find a way to get stuck, or you spin too fast. You apply mascara, pull on white slip-on tennis shoes and the ring. Needless to say, you’re looking extremely girly today.

The clock says it’s reaching nine, you’d say that breakfast will take thirty, and then you can meet Finnick in the betting room at ten. So, you go out to the dining room to see that Elysia is nowhere to be seen. You refuse to believe that she left before you got up, she has to be sleeping in. Normal Capitol people stay up late and rise at noon. But then again, Elysia is an escort and she’s far from normal sometimes.

An avox turns on the tv, so you sit down at the table and wait as they serve brunch in front of you. It’s hashbrowns, steak, and a bowl of assorted fruit. You pick through your food, not super hungry and in the mood for all of it. Nevertheless, you’re sure to thank the avox that serves it to you, and continues to come back around to give you orange juice and coffee.

The arena screen is split into three, which isn’t new. It was like this last night, since there aren't many tributes to focus on at the moment. If there’s only three, you might as well show all of them and what they’re doing. At least one of them has to be doing something mildly interesting.

Tekla is still in her small clearing in the trees, which is fairly close to the dam, now that the gamemakers have marked it on the map. It’s a beautiful place to rest, you’d even picnic there if you had the opportunity. It’s not a good spot, though. It’s too close to the dam, too easy to kill her if and when it breaks. Still, she lays on her back, eyes closed. You can’t tell if she’s awake or not, but you’re going to guess that she is, judging by how her hands are intertwined over her stomach.

If she were sleeping, she’d probably be more annoyed by the sun. Instead, she’s directly under it, which might actually end up giving her a sunburn if she isn’t careful. That’ll be miserable to work with inside of the arena. You can’t even do anything to remedy the burn this far in, except for natural leaves and plants. You can’t think of any off the top of your head that you’ve seen so far.

Sanguin is in the cornucopia, she’s awake and stretching. She doesn’t look tired, despite the fact that it’s obvious that she just got up. Judging by her ratty blonde hair and the way her face twists each time she leans over. She stands up straight, and then grins slightly, turning around and going back inside. She combs through her hair with her fingers and sits on the edge of a box, sword right next to her. Maybe she’s planning on going out hunting today? You hope she doesn’t actually think she’ll get anything out of the village.

Especially with how awful Annie is looking. She’s got her arms wrapped around her body, knees pulled to her chest. The good news is that she looks to be asleep, mouth slightly open, leaned up against the connecting wall in the corner. But she’s got deep purple bags beneath her eyes, she’s only recently fallen asleep. You wonder how long it’ll last before she’s jolting awake.

It’s good that she’s sleeping, with no thanks to the medicine that you sent her. It probably drove her insane into early this morning, like you said would happen last night. You’d say that it’s a good thing, but with the way that Sanguin keeps looking to the village, it’s not. Annie needs to get up and be ready for a fight. Unfortunately, there’s no way you can warn her of this. You’re all out of options.

You finish your food, thank the avoxes, and leave for the betting room. There’s not a lot going on right now, it’s early morning. Everything big that happens in the arena is normally dedicated towards the afternoon to the evening, for the gamemakers at least. As for the tributes, they’re welcome to make and wreak havoc as they please, when they see fit.

The betting room is quiet and empty when you get down there. Finnick and Gloss are sitting by each other on the couch. You hold the doorknob on the door, carefully setting it against the doorframe so that they won’t hear you. If they thought that you scaring them was bad when they were semi-expecting you, it’s going to be worse when you’re supposed to be sleeping.

You stand behind them for a moment, squinting down at them, wondering if they have the same sixth sense that you do when people are standing over you. Your question is answered when Finnick barely glances over his shoulder, and then jumps three feet in the air when he realizes that they’re not alone. Gloss has the same moment, inhaling sharply.

A laugh erupts from you as you go around the couch to sit on the arm next to Finnick, “You two are too easy.”

“You’re like a fucking ghost, I didn’t even hear you come in.” Gloss says.

“That was on purpose.” you cross a leg beneath your thigh, “Woke up early by accident, thought that it wouldn’t hurt to come down and keep you two company for a little while.”

“Well, the afternoon schedule was nice while it lasted.” Finnick mutters.

Your face twists, you look down at him, “You’re a bad liar. There’s no way you like waking up at midnight and going to bed at noon.”

Finnick tilts his head for a moment, making a face, “I mean…”

You slap the side of his head before he can say anything else, “You don’t have to prove you’re a teenage boy.”

The Morning Line Odds say that everyone is still at where they were yesterday, so there’s no need to take in new information. You’re really just left to sit and wait for anything important to happen inside of the arena. In the meantime, you talk to Finnick and Gloss about the unusual silence. With your guys’ luck, it’s not going to last very long. There’s no way that the gamemakers will allow two normal days in a row.

However, today’s the ninth day of the games. You’re sure they’re going to want to keep it going on for a little while longer, so maybe they will allow fate to be in the tribute’s hands. In that case, you all might as well buckle up for a long day, because it’s going to take hours for Sanguin to make it to Annie, with the pace she’s going right now.

It’s almost ten in the morning when people begin showing up inside of the betting room. All brightly dressed, and particularly chatty this morning. This is when you decide to officially sit between Finnick and Gloss, not wanting the sponsors to see that you’re in a skirt today. Finnick seems happy, which is all that matters.

Unfortunately, Annie wakes up. She jolts, eyes flying open as she reaches for her knife. She gets to her feet without a word, carefully making her way across the bedroom to the window, where she rubs it down to look outside of it. Her eyebrows are drawn together, staring straight at the dam.

She seems satisfied for a second, gently nodding to herself. She goes to move away, until Sanguin comes into clear view. For half a second, you think to yourself that it’s a good thing that Annie is paranoid, because she just spotted the threat she’s been waiting for. After that, Annie scoops up all of her belongings, not leaving a single trace that she was there, besides the now-clean window.

She carefully goes down the steps, making it to the base floor without falling through the floorboards. Outside, she takes a deep breath, shuts the door and tries to jam some rocks beneath the door to make it harder to open. She tiptoes in grass to make sure that there’s no footprints, makes it a few houses over before she even considers walking through the dirt again.

None of it matters in the end.

A thunderous crack echoes throughout the arena so loudly that it breaks the microphones and makes several people scream out in surprise. You all watch in deafening silence as the dam continues to crack, and water begins to spurt out in large streams.

Your heart pounds in your chest. Today is the day.

You stand from the couch, moving a few feet forward to see better. Finnick and Gloss join you, not a single word passes between you three as you watch in awe. If such small cracks are already sprouting in streams big enough to create rivers, then how will the rest of the water fare? You have no choice but to wait and watch.

The screen is now in four, with one long screen on top completely dedicated to the dam, and three bottom squares for the tributes.

Tekla is on her feet, already rushing down the hill. She’s got no weapons on her hand, no backpack to weigh her down. She’s left it all behind in her peaceful circle in the woods. She whips through bushes, swings around trees, barely makes it over root and rocks on her way down. She’s freaked, struggling to keep her hair out of her face, constantly tucking it behind her ears.

Her feet look like they have a mind of their own, though. With the way that she goes down, it’s almost like she’s dancing, how flowery it is. However, her panic isn’t easily masked. She’s obviously shaking, and sometimes she’ll fuck up and have to catch herself before it’s too late.

Sanguin is standing on top of the hill, everything still on her as she stares at the water making its way towards her. Her eyebrows are pushed together, trying to assess the situation and if it’s worth worrying over. The answer is yes, because it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the concrete blows, and she’s left with a real problem. She slowly turns her back to it, picking up her pace, jogging through the grass. She’s still carrying all of herself.

And finally, Annie is also running through the buildings, just as panicked as Tekla is. The only thing that Annie has is her knife, clutched with white knuckles. She’s as white as a sheet too, breathing heavily through her mouth. You can empathize with her, even if she’s a while away, she knows that she can still be reached.

Another large crack sounds, Tekla slaps her hands over her ears and risks a glance behind her. There’s a jagged horizontal crack that runs from the right side to the left. It’s a matter of time before it goes. The concrete is spider-webbing, developing into a worse problem. Tekla tries to quicken her pace, but there’s only so fast you can go downhill before you risk hurting yourself.

Sanguin has dropped her things, running as fast as she did to catch up with Bauhinia. Her feet slam into the ground, and launch her forward another couple of feet before she’s connecting with the dirt again. She makes it across the second lower clearing, going uphill again. Those hills are going to be an absolute killer when it comes to the water.

The gamemakers are evil. It’s been exactly nine days, ten minutes and forty seconds since the tributes got inside of the arena. You said a week and a half? It hasn’t even been that. They’re in a hurry to get the big event over before one tribute can kill another. Why? Because it’s more fun cheering on the running tributes than watching them kill each other. It’s like betting on a running horse, who’s going to make it to the finish line first?

Annie stops, taking in deep breaths as she watches the dam through a row of trees. She’s able to watch as the final crack breaks the dam open like an egg. Concrete and debris go flying into the trees as the water creates a nasty flattening path through the woods. Almost every tree that the front water initially hits, is uprooted and brought with.

Tekla’s scream is piercing, lasting a couple of seconds before she’s completely cut off. She doesn’t die immediately, you’re able to watch as the water brings her along. She’s suspended in the middle, legs kicking, hands wrapped around her throat. She has half the mind to hold her breath, so that’s good news. The bad is that she’s a quarter mile underwater. There’s no way she’ll make it to the surface in time, if she did know how to swim.

You think you’ll have to watch her drown when she runs out of air, but an entire tree branch goes straight through her back and out the middle of her chest. Bubbles erupt around her face, hands grabbing the wood just before the cannon sounds. One down, three to go.

Sanguin has one more hill to make it up before she’s in the village. Her arms are pumping, face a bright red, her glances over her shoulder are quick and spared. She doesn’t do it often because it slows her down, it’s a brief check to see how far ahead she is in front of the water. And the truth is that it’s catching up on her. Just like you said, the hills are a nightmare.

Not only because she has to run up them, which tires her out more. But because the water gains momentum and unpredictability with every hill it surges over. The water doesn't seem to endlessly pour out of the dam, though. It seems like the gamemakers had a prepared forcefield. They just wanted to let out a controlled amount of water. Big enough to kill a couple of tributes before it thinned out and became a minimal threat.

Sanguin starts uphill the same moment the water hits the hill just behind her. Down it goes for a couple of seconds, before it’s surging above her in a giant wave. Sanguin makes it into the village, running beneath the roofs as if it’ll protect her from the water. She runs straight for a while, before starting to zig zag towards the corner.

She must realize that it’s not worth it, and that the diagonal running only slows her down, because she goes back to running straight, heading closer and closer to where Annie had been staying.

Speaking of which, Annie’s on the run again. You can tell that she’s keeping track of the height of the water. Even though the houses are decades old, they seem to be slowing down the water, since they’re all individually filling up inside. Sanguin doesn’t seem too focused on the fact, mostly wanting distance. She’s almost on the brink of losing it, though. Her steps are getting sloppier the more she goes.

Annie goes around a corner and into an alleyway, effectively blocking the water from her sight. It’s stupid, she’s not going to be able to keep track of it the same way she has. Sanguin has a point when it comes to running straight away from the water.

And then she starts climbing the walls. With how narrow the walkway is, she can scoot her way up little by little. It burns a lot of her time, and cranks up your anxiety, watching her do this. You know that she’s trying to get herself above the tide now. The houses where she’s at, are at least two stories tall each, not counting the roof.

Annie grabs the gutters, using her arms to pull her onto the red-orange shingles. You get a glimpse from where she’s at now to see that the water is lower, but she’ll still have to swim, even if she gets onto the high point of the roof. She takes one last look at her knife before she frisbee’s it to her right, making sure that it’s far away from her when the water does come.

Sanguin is losing ground. Soon, she’ll be stuck swimming too. It seems like that their times are lining up. Annie bends her knees, cracks her fingers, prepares her arms. Sanguin’s glances get more and more frequent, anticipating the moment the water hits her.

Annie dives straight in, letting the water welcome her. She doesn’t waste time, swimming straight to the top. Her face is serious, she has her eyes locked on the surface, kicking her legs hard, arm over head. While Sanguin holds her breath, fingers squeezing her nose shut, eyes following the structures in front of her. She narrowly misses the wall of the first house, before slamming right into the neck.

Just like with Tekla, there’s a large burst of bubbles. Sanguin struggles now, trying to swim to the top. She makes a few inches at a time, but it’s hardly noticeable, or comparable with how well Annie is doing. In fact, she’s reached the surface already, inhaling loudly.

The water directs Sanguin into a wall again, this time her head cracks against the wall. The water turns a light shade around her head, and it’s minutes before the cannon finally sounds. Which signals the water to drain, lowering Annie onto a roof nearby.

Her dark hair is stuck to her face and neck, clothes completely drenched. Her mouth is slightly parted, breathing loudly.

You grab onto Finnick’s arm, “Oh my god.”

“Congratulations, guys.” Gloss has got a grin on his face, he slaps you on the back.

“She did it.” you say, “Annie’s done it!”

Claudius Templesmith’s, the announcer, voice comes over the arena, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the Seventieth Hunger Games, from District Four, Annie Cresta!”

Annie’s face drains of color again, before it’s bursting in red, “I win.” she murmurs at first, barely audible, before tears of relief are filling her eyes. Much louder, this time she screams; “I win!”

REDAMANCY IS PART 2 OF A TRILOGY //MASTERLIST//

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