#That being said if this is a ''everyone has their memory wiped!'' or ''it's a time loop!'' thing I'm outta here

[echantedtoon]

A Lovers' Circle (Poly Haishira x Reader) Ch10 A Scarred Heart P3

(Warnings for mentioning of harassment from last chapter, and Sanemi roughing Jake up. 

I dunno anything about health classes really do I'm just making something up for Y/n's interactions with Giyuu so bare with me on that part....Also yes. Giyuu's next to be romanced.

Also important to note that I'm mostly basing how everyone falls for Y/n based on the old post I made here.

Taglist: @shadyd3ar @jcrml @tengensangel

@miniverse-zen @mysteri0uz @jjamsbangtan

@the-unknown-fandom @lavenderdropp

@mimisweetz. @purplesoulsapphire

@kksmush @denkpanda18 @whomisi

@lessthanimperfect

Remember if you want to be added to the taglist lemme know

Your day was officially ruined.

You weren't covered in mud, food, makeup, and rain this time but the memories and actions of Jake made you angry and shell shocked. All you could do was go outside and angry cry. But you weren't alone this time. Kanae was gently rubbing your back and seemed to be frazzled herself. Not that you blamed her. Gyomei had been informed about what happened by her. The usual gentle giant went from shocked to a rare angry you've never seen before.

At the moment said boyfriend was inside apologizing to the owner for what happened and paying for the food. It was Sanemi who was standing by you both acting like a bodyguard and giving worried looks to you both. 

"We're going to be alright," she assured you as you wiped your face. "Just take some deep breaths and try to calm yourself."

Eventually Gyomei did come out, lightly ducking his head to avoid hitting his head and immediately made his way over to you three. "Im sorry for taking so long. The owner was very understanding of the situation. Apparently he was not the first person who caused a fight at the bar." 

You continued to finish up wiping at your eyes face still red from crying and anger. Blinking before turning to toss the napkin in a nearby trashcan. This day was a disaster. It started out great but ended up being just a mess. You scowled at nothing but blinked when two large hands suddenly cupped your cheeks and tilted you up to the concerned look of Gyomei.

"Are you alright?"

You blinked before nodding. "Y-Yes. I'm ok. *sniff*" Although you did sigh and lean into the comforting touch of his hands.

"I'm sorry. I should've been there. This is the second time I wasn't there when he was around."

"I-It wasn't your fault."

"No. I should've been there. I have no excuses."

"Listen to her, Mei." A hand plopping onto his side had Gyomei turning towards Sanemi. "You were talking to your MOM. Sides you think a bastard like that cares about anyone else but himself? It's no one's dam fault but his and if he has at least one working braincell-" SMACK! He quickly smacked a fist into his palm. A strained smile on his face. "-he'll stay away. If not I have no problem knocking some more sense into 'em."

"I-I appreciate that."

"Tch. No one touches my girls and gets away with it."

... Gyomei turned his head with a brow raised to him. "'My girls'?"

"OUR girls!," Sanemi quickly corrected looking at him. "Kanae shouldn't have gone through that neither did your girlfriend! I'm not wrong!"

Gyomei raised a brow higher with a hum as Sanemi sweated under him. 

"Hey. The day's almost over so why don't we just settle down." Kanae quickly redirected the topic away from them. "My house isn't too far from here. Would you two like to come over and watch a movie? We can get pizza or something."

"T-That's really nice of you to offer, but I think I just want to go home." You politely declined to Kanae who understood. 

"Then I'll walk you home. I'm so sorry our night had to turn out like this."

"N-No. Sanemi's right. It's no one's fault but Jake's. Let's just get back." You took a few steps towards the way back home before stopping and suddenly turning back to Sanemi. "Oh I almost forgot. Sanemi."

"Hm?" Said man froze as two hands grabbed him by the face and a second later a smooch was pressed into his cheek very quickly.

You instantly let go giving him a grateful smile. "Thanks for saving me. I really appreciate it. I owe you one I swear. See you tomorrow at campus. Bye, Kanae. It was nice seeing you again too."

"Bye, Y/n. See you tomorrow, Mei!" Kanae waved at them both as Gyomei wrapped an arm protectively around your shoulders and began walking you home. When they were both down the street, she turned to her frozen boyfriend and giggled at his expression. "Are you ok, Honey? You seem to be blushing."

"I'M NOT BLUSHING!!" 

The walk home was only silent with you leaning again your boyfriend who still placed a protective hold on your shoulders and every so often still uttered  apologies but you told him it was alright. For now you just found comfort in the presence of your large boyfriend. By the time you both DID get home it was getting a little late.

"Do you want to stay for dinner? You really didn't get to finish lunch and I don't mind cooking ?"

"I don't want you to feel like you have to do anything for me after today..but we could order something if that works for you?"

"Sure. I was going to cook something for someone tomorrow anyways! Come on in and I'll put in a movie."

A pair of legs quickly walked through the crowds and pushed past people in his way. A loud giggling came from the toddler resting on his shoulders and clinging to his big brother's head. There was an urgency as he walked in order to get to the daycare before his classes started and he'd be late. He pushed on further and further into the crowds of people not caring if they gave him dirty looks. He just kept a firm grip on his giggling brother who giggled out and made full speed ahead towards the building in front of him. Making it as he threw the door open and meeting a familiar sight.

"Hi, Sanemi!," you greeted him as he walked up to the counter. "Good morning!"

"Hey. How are ya? Gotta go!," he quickly spoke out lifting his giggling brother off his shoulders, over his head, and into your awaiting arms as you placed him on your hip. He then slung the extra bag off his shoulders. "Here's his clothes and stuff. I gotta go."

"Oh. Before you go I did get you something." He paused briefly blinking as you reached under the counter and pulled out a small box about as big as a small coffee cake. "It's some more ohagi!" You smiled brightly at him. "I made you some as thanks for yesterday. I hope you like it."

Said scarred man opened his mouth-.. Before his face turned a bright pink and he snatched it from your hands sputtering. "Yeahthanksgottagobye-" He quickly threw out at you before swiftly leaving as you waved.

Hm. He seemed in a hurry. Must've been late for his classes. Speaking of which you'd better also get ready for your health class. You still had to turn in the paper from your last project and then take notes for today. But first you'd better drop off Koto with Gyomei and grab your things.

*********************************************

"Class, turn to page one hundred and thirty two. Today we'll be reviewing the lesson from last week you based your projects on before-"

The sounds of many pages turning in the large room as at least fifty students turned to the appropriate places in their textbooks. Others took out note books lined with lots of notes from previous lessons with room for future ones. Pencils and erasers at the ready for the task ahead of taking down important information. Highlighters in bright yellow ready to highlight any very important details hidden in the professor's speeches. Lights dim as the first slides showed in time with the words the professor spoke.

"Now this here is the example of a former student I showed you of. Your task was to pick a famous medical discovery or sickly disaster from history and write a report on how that discovery or disaster affects modern health experts and research today-"

The current slide showed up a picture of an old painting taken at the city's local museum. It's old pain chipping away but still held together enough to show the picture of a man in his late fifties in an old hospital uniform. The professor looked up at the slide before adjusting his glasses and looking back at the younger crowd. 

"Who here can tell me who this man was?" Murmurs and coughs were circulated around until one hand raised up in the very back row. He pointed at it after a moment of straining his eyes to see around the dimly lit room. "Yes. You, Y/n!"

"The reigning monarchy during that time was lead by King Cedric Roland Jackson Snider the Forth and his wife Queen Stacia Emily Snider." Your hand slowly lowered after your answer and the professor nodded in approval.

"Excellent! Yes! Both King and Queen during that time funded their exhibition out to the area where our town would first be established. Who can tell me what the original purpose of the exhibition was?" Again unsure looks were given around until once more your hand raised in answer. "Miss Y/n?"

"John MacVicar!"

"Right you are! Yes! He was part of a research team of doctors, engineers, and designers who helped to create the first medical ultrasound. The student who did the project on this man included references to some of those people in their paper. Now can anyone tell me one way we use medical ultrasounds today?" You waited to see if someone else would raise their hand and someone else did. A boy in the very front row. "Yes, Charlie!"

You didn't bother interrupting and only listened to the professor continue his lesson and turn to the next slide which was a picture of some old relics from the same time as the founding of the town. You busied yourself by writing down words in the notebook you always took with you during these classes. The words forever being inscribed upon the surface of the paper with ink- Something poked your arm making you pause.

"Psst. Hey, Bud. I gotta tell you something."

Your  f/c eyes deadpanned looked at the dark eyes of the man sitting next to you as he again poked your upper arm.

"What, Murata?," you whisper hissed back to him voice low to avoid drawing attention. "I'm trying to take notes here. You should be taking notes too! You have no idea if this'll be on the finals!"

Murata didn't seemed phased by your words in the slightest and only whispered back. "We need to talk. It's important!"

"I'm taking notes. Wait til after class."

"WHAT?! BUT THAT'S STILL HOURS AWAY-"

"Mr. Murata." The professor gave a look of silent disapproval as the lesson paused. A good few heads also turned to stare at the seemingly frozen man next to you suddenly in the spotlight. "Is there something so important that you have to disrupt my lesson? If so please share it with the class."

In an instant Murata's face went an embarrassed red and he shook his head no. "N-NO! I was just-...Uh. A-Asking to borrow a pencil! Yeah!"

The professor narrowed his heads. "Well then next time ask quietly or better. Next time actually come prepared and not disrupt the class. Now then. " He turned back to the board. "As I was saying, notice how they didn't list their sources on where they got the information? Don't do this. Whether it's from a book, website, or interview with a professional. ALWAYS list reliable resources for where you got your information."

Murata gave a sigh of relief as the faces of their classmates turned away from them and focused back onto the lesson the professor was giving.

"I told you. Just wait until all our classes are finished and we'll talk after. Ok?" You looked back to the notebook after giving Murata a quick reassuring pat on the hand.

His huffed annoyed before he pulled his hands back and looked away. "Fine. But don't take too long."

You wondered briefly about what he wanted that was so important to interrupt class but brushed it off to refocus on the lesson before you. Your paper had been about smallpox and how the man who invented the vaccine was able to make a cure for the epidemic of it. You just hoped the professor liked it enough. The professor continued sighting mistakes to avoid in the future when writing a report before looking back to the class. 

"Now then. Your assignments will be graded and be given back to you this Friday. Until then you'll be doing another project with a partner. It'll be the last major project before winter break so be sure to work hard on it." The professor clicked a button and the projector. On the slide it had two different pictures. One of a brain and one of a silhouette of a man running. "Your project is going to be based on mental and physical health. You and your partner will chose one of the topics and base your project on how one thing can impact either, either in a negative or positive way. Again that topic is up to you to decide but you must take notes and have proof of your results. You may now chose your partner but just know whoever you pick will be your partner for the duration of the project."

The lights turned back on above everyone and the mumbling started up again as the professor switched off the projector. Blinking at the sudden change in lightage, you shook your head before turning to Murata and stopped as you realized he was gone. F/c eyes blinked before your head swiveled around but you still didn't see him. You even stood up for a better peek but still didn't see him through the crowds. Where did he go? He was right here just a second ago..He must've moved and you didn't notice too busy paying attention to the professor. Rats. You were gonna ask him to be your partner. 

Already some people were getting up and moving around at towards their desired partners and not one of them was your friend. Rats again. Outside of Murata you didn't really know anyone else in the class.

Or at least that's what you thought at first.

You had settled yourself into just picking a random person and asking them, however when you looked up towards the very back you caught sight of a familiar face. There up in the top row of seats sitting all by himself was a man. A man with long dark black hair tied in a ponytail, and a large baggy hoodie. Blue eyes didn't look up from the notebook he was still writing in. Just continuing to work away on whatever he was doing. All alone with empty seats all around him.

So maybe that's why when a lady smiled at him from rows below and gathered up her backpack,he didn't notice. Nor did he notice when she bounded up the stairs towards him until a shadow fell over him. Those dark blue eyes blinked confused before looking up and jumping lightly at the sight of your pretty face smiling at him.

"Hi, Giyuu! You remember me right?"

Wait. DID he know her? He furrowed his brows in thought looking at her up and down wracking his brain. Oh wait. This was the lady Gyomei was seeing now wasn't it? Yes. He saw her twice but he remembered who she was now.

So he nodded at her. "Yes. How are you?"

"I'm great thanks! I remembered that we took the same health class." She spoke so excitedly it reminded him a bit of Mitsuri- "Do you wanna be my partner?"

A record scratch sound went off.

...Giyuu blinked. Staring at her wide eyed before turning around to look around him really quick just to be sure there wasn't another Giyuu she was asking before slowly looking back to her and pointing at himself. "Me?"

"Of course! You're like the only person here who I remotely know."

His eyes widened more. "You w-w-want to be my partner?" You nodded. "Do the project with me?"

"Of course! I'd love to! Do you wanna be my partner?" He slowly nodded as if not entirely sure this was happening himself. "Great! Class is almost over. We can get some food at the cafeteria and discuss what you want to do for the project if you'd like." Still bewildered he nodded and was even more surprised when you flopped down next to him with a smile and leaned towards him. "So how have you been? I haven't seen you since the onsen incident. I'm really sorry btw."

"I-I.." He swallowed thickly. "I've been fine. And it's fine."

"I'm glad you're not angry with me. Gyomei was right about you."

"Huh?" He rose a brow at you once more confused. Gyomei mentioned him? When? What did he say?

You smiled largely at him. "You're very understanding and kind."

"EH?!"  You still smiled as his face went a confused pink. However you just opened your notebook.

"I think we should do a physical health project. With your studies in wanting to be a p.e. teacher it might make it easier for us to work with the subject with your smarts."

"You..think I'm smart?"

"Obviously. Do you want to do the physical health subject?"

He didn't answer at first still staring in awe at you before his face returned to his normal stoic expression and his face slowly slipped back to its normal color. "*ahem* ...Yes. Let's do that. We can discuss what we both want to do for the project later when we get dinner." 

You nodded in enthusiasm. "Great! There's a cafe on campus if you want to go there and talk. I'll just call Gyomei after class and let him know where I am."

"That's fine."

You smiled at him and continued to try and make small talk until the bell rang signalling the end of class. Giyuu stood up first politely waiting for you to gather your things before filing out the door with him and down the halls amongst the throngs of people. You pulled out your phone to call Gyomei but stopped as you say a familiar sight. Murata was coming down the hall towards you as you waved to him but your friend stopped seeing Giyuu giving you a gaze... before he frowned, turned, and disappeared into the crowd again. ..Huh. That was weird. What was that all about? Oh well. You shrugged it off before continuing to call Gyomei.

Your boyfriend was surprised to hear you were hanging out with Giyuu but was very understanding of your project and wished you both luck on coming up with a way to tackle said project. With that out of the way you happily turned back to Giyuu who again blink as you happily grabbed him by the hand and tugged him out of the building and towards the on campus cafe. 

He stared wide eyed in awe at where she grabbed a hold of hand then slowly back to her as she smiled and slowly took the man all the way back to the cafe. As the door chimes on the door above you, another familiar face lit up as she spotted you both.

"GIYUU!! Y/N!!," Mitsuri called before giving a full armed wave at you both from behind the cash register.

"Hi, Mitsuri! Can I get two of those really delicious milkshakes and a couple fruit sandwiches please?" You turned back to Giyuu who was still mesmerized with where you had grabbed his hand and was staring at you. "Do you like milkshakes and fruit sandwiches?" He slowly nodded at you. "Ok. Then we'll have some my treat!" You then turned back to Mitsuri who was still smiling and blinking. "Hey..Are you wearing a new eyeshadow?"

"YES! Obi got it for me! Isn't he the sweetest?", she gushed out.

"Absolutely! You look beautiful in green!"

"KYYAAA!!~" She gushed a bright pink as you complimented her. "Oh my gosh! You're so sweet! I could kiss you right now-"

"Oi! Quits making a racket out there and send us the orders!," another female voice called out from the back.

"Oh right! You guys go sit down and I'll bring it to you when it's done!"

You smiled wider at the blushing woman. "Thanks, Mitsuri. C'mon, Giyuu."

Giyuu continued to stare at you before you walked towards a nearby empty table. He watched you before looking at Mitsuri who only smiled back wider at one of her partners holding her own cheeks.

"I know! Perfect isn't she?!"

He opened his mouth-.. before deciding to just close it and quickly follow you to the table. You were already sat down and opening your notebook to today's lesson. He slowly sat down across from you and you spoke.

"So I know we chose physical health but what are we doing? The professor said that we have to chose an aspect that either affects a person negatively or positively and gather evidence on it. Any ideas?" You looked at him.

His eyes gazed over to the side.. before nodding. "I came up with something while writing."

"I'd love to hear it!"

Again he looked surprised by your words. "You.. actually want to hear what I have to say?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I usually do projects alone. I'm not really a person that most people choose to be around."

"Well that's just mean." He again blinked as you pointed at him. "I think they just don't bother to try and talk to you but that's their loss. They just won't know how much of a unique person you really are." His eyes widened as you gestured to him. "So what was the idea for the project?"

"..Huh?"

"The project idea, Giyuu."

"O-Oh." He cleared his throat. "They say that moving around continuesly for at least one hour a day can be very good for your health. I was planning on measuring my strength and muscle mass and then proceeding to record myself exercising for one hour a day. It's mid October now and the project isn't due until the last day of November so the day before I turn it in, I'd measure my muscle build again and see if there was any change in strength or stamina."

Your eyes were wide in awe. "Giyuu, that's ingenious!" You smiled brightly! "Also that's a great idea! Let's do it!"

"Really?! You really think it's good?" You nodded. "In that case,  would you be alright with doing the project with me? I think two people doing the project might make make it more credible if there's more than one person with the result."

"Good idea! I'm busy with work and classes though so we'll have to do our hour exercises at noon except on the weekends. I'll give you my number and address. Tomorrow we can start after work. Sounds good?"

Again he nodded looking off to the side and rubbing at his neck. "S-Sure. Sounds..pretty....P-Pretty good." He added quickly at the end with his still blunt tone. "I-I'll talk to Shinobu about it tonight."

"I'll be sure to let Gyomei know too. For now let's get some food in us before we become skeletons."

[royalarchivist]

Although this looks very similar to the original QSMP announcement video, this video QSMP Global just posted has a different (glitched) ending. Is this meant to be a soft reboot...?

[sqlmn]

genuinely just sat there and drew blondes for two hours

[aceaphs]

are you telling me to understand mystreet later seasons lore i also have to rewatch mcd .

[emiliosandozsequence]

oh shit the first episode of the second part of g-witch comes out tomorrow!!!!!

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

Hii! I love love love all of your finnick fics! Could I please request a fic where reader is also a victor from an earlier game and she is in an established relationship with Finnick. They both get reaped (not the same district) for the 75th games and reader gets critically hurt in the part where the cornucopia spins. Like she falls into the water after maybe being injured and she can’t swim, so Finnick has to risk everything to save her life.

I’m really looking for like a hurt/comfort with a seriously injured reader and Finnick going through hell to save her because he cannot imagine a life without her in it.

Thank you so much if you’re willing to write this or something like it, feel free of course to change anything to your liking!

two souls, one heart | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick refuses to lose the love of his life. your inability to swim complicates things, especially when the cornucopia begins spinning.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: pre-established relationship, heavy angst, drowning, death, bone fracture

notes: thank you so much!!! i really enjoyed writing this, shed a few tears but still enjoyed it lmao. listen to 'beginning of the end movement v' by the newton brothers on repeat for the full experience <3

A quiet nursery rhyme was being sung by the water's edge.

The calm waves around the Cornucopia lapped at the rocks, the blistering sun causing the surface to sparkle. Wiress' voice interrupted Peeta as he mapped out the arena's clock-like wedges in the dirt. Everyone was focused on the map; you should have been too.

Dark blue ripples had your eyes captivated. So tranquil. So hauntingly beautiful. Loving the sea was in your blood, as your District Four was your home. You would think coming from a fishing district would mean your swimming abilities were mastered. In reality, they were practically non-existent. No matter how many times Finnick had attempted to give you lessons, they never stuck.

Neither of you seemed to care though, always too enraptured by simply being in each other's company—feeling Finnick's hands support your body as you floated on the surface...

"Don't you let go of me, Finnick Odair, or I swear to god I'll drown you."

"Will that be before or after you drown first?" he chuckled, though ultimately tightening his grip on your body in an attempt to reassure you.

....hysterically laughing when he got wiped out by a sudden wave...

"No way! I can't—" You broke into a fit of laughter— "I can't believe that just happened!"

"Are you laughing at me, sweetheart?" Finnick asked, trudging through the water towards you, his hair drenched and swept across his forehead.

"Yes!"

You doubled over, knees buckling as you struggled to contain your laughter. Despite trying to put up a serious front, Finnick too let a few chuckles slip at the hysterical sight of you.

"Oh really?"

Just like that, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you down into the cold water, earning him a squeal just before you crashed together below the surface.

...and washing up on the sandy shore in each other's arms, salty lips capturing one another.

"I'm covered in sand," you murmured against Finnick's lips.

He gave you another kiss before pulling away. "It's okay," he said, pecking your lips again. "I'll help you wash off in the shower when we get back." And then sent you a stomach-flipping grin.

Even though you wouldn't trade those memories for the world, if you had known your life would soon depend on the ability to swim, you would have paid much more attention to the lessons.

Finnick stood closely beside you, his trident digging into the dirt as he gripped it tightly in case of an attack. He had noticed your drifted attention, observing the way your eyes stared at the rippling water, like death was lurking just beneath the surface waiting to drag you down to the murky depths.

He could protect you from most things in the arena, but fear was something entirely different. A trident couldn't defeat the darkness in your mind.

A hand slid onto your lower back, rubbing gentle strokes to gain your attention. Your gaze tore from the blinding blue and settled onto Finnick's face beside you, watching his mouth curve into a light smile. You knew the silent words he was trying to convey: 'You're okay, sweetheart. I've got you.'

For a fleeting moment, the anxiety had disappeared. How could anything ever go wrong with Finnick by your side? The corners of your mouth quirked, preparing to send him a smile in response. But it never came. Something new had caught your attention. The woman by the water was no longer singing.

Wiress had been murdered.

The second Katniss let her arrow fly into Gloss' chest, everything around you seemed to explode into action. Anything that could go wrong would go wrong—Murphy's Law. And it did.

The Careers had initiated an attack.

Charging forward from the waterside was Cashmere, determined to avenge her brother's death. Instinct quickly kicked in and the spear in your hand was sent barrelling through the air and into her chest. As you watched her body slump to the ground, an enraged yell came from the side.

Finnick was fighting Brutus.

With your only weapon lodged within Cashmere's chest, aiding Finnick was impossible. Enobaria revealed herself beside Brutus, displaying her vicious fangs and throwing a dagger that sliced a small cut across Finnick's shoulder. Though the wound was minor, your heart lurched as he cried out in pain.

Before a single thought in your brain could form, your legs were moving. Not towards Finnick, but after Enobaria. Remember who the real enemy is—screw that. Finnick could have died. Your Finnick. He called out your name, his voice hoarse and frayed, but you continued on, hatred fuelling each step. It seemed Katniss and Johanna had the same idea, following behind you with their weapons bared.

Salt water sprayed onto your face, but you paid it no attention. Nor did you notice as the jungle surrounding the island began to blur into one overwhelming hue of green. Only when your body was thrown to the harsh rocky terrain did you realise what was happening.

The Cornucopia had started to spin.

Nothing could compare to the terror you felt as gravity's merciless force dragged your body toward the violent waves surging against the rocks. Just as your lower legs breached the edge, a hand grabbed onto your own. Katniss. She too was hanging onto Johanna whose only lifeline was an axe buried in the rocks.

A moment—that was all you were given to scan your surroundings. Supplies and sharp-edged weapons were flying everywhere. White water was spraying into the air. Finnick, who was thirty feet away, was gripping onto a rock ledge whilst keeping Beetee from sliding into the furious waves. His head turned to the side and even from a great distance, your eyes met.

It was at that moment you knew, you just knew the odds weren't going to be in your favour. God forbid you lived a simple happy life with the man you loved, days spent together on a calm beach. God forbid the Gamemakers gave you one last chance to be in his arms. God forbid you survived.

And with that sudden realisation, the universe, sick as it was, decided it was time.

Your hand began slipping from Katniss's; an unseen tear fell from your eye, and you smiled. A smile of goodbye sent to the love of your life. His face contorted into one of agony, lips moving but you couldn't hear his voice over the roaring waves. Still, you knew exactly what he was shouting.

"NO! NO!"

There was nothing he could do but watch your body disappear into the waves, repeating over and over "no, no, no," and praying his cruel eyes had deceived him. They hadn't.

Dark blue was in every direction you looked. The undertow tossed and rolled your body like a ragdoll in a washing machine and despite your attempts to swim, the surface only seemed to be slipping further and further out of your reach. Darkness engulfed you, so thick that you couldn't tell which way was up or down. That was when the panic set in.

Your arms and legs thrashed frantically, struggling against the water's force, desperate to reach safety or an air pocket. Cold water flooded your throat as you gasped uncontrollably. You screamed as every attempt at breathing felt like fire burning in your lungs. Finnick. Where was he? Where were you? What was happening? Why wouldn't it stop?

Thoughts submerged your mind in terror, and you were powerless to stop them. All you could do was feel. Pain. Fire. Burning

At some point, the Cornucopia had ceased its spinning and your body came to a rest in the water. An eerie calm suddenly washed over you; a sense of clarity stilled your wild movements. This was the end. There was no future. No hope. The world above wasn't yours to call home anymore. You now belonged to the sea.

Of course, your water-logged mind had forgotten that home was where the heart was, and your heart was still beating... above the surface, in the aching chest of another.

Tendrils of hair floated around your face like fronds of seaweed. Rays of sunlight penetrated the surface, turning the surroundings a vibrant sparkly blue. As you sank further down, the water, now a comfortable lukewarm, cradled you in its embrace. It felt safe, like being in Finnick's arms again. Like home.

You gazed at the sun's rays; they looked beautiful. You felt beautiful. But time was running out and the bright light soon began shrouding your entire vision, though not before you witnessed a dark figure dive beneath the waves.

**********

Finnick loved the ocean. He spent most days in District Four down by the beach, swimming, spearfishing, and watching the sun rise and set on the blue horizon. If he believed in reincarnation, he would have imagined himself to be a lionfish or dolphin in his past life, living in an underwater world, free from tyranny and oppression. He loved the ocean.

But that love was incomparable to what he felt for you. So, when he dove into the rocky waters to save you and felt the currents fighting against him, he determined there was nothing he hated more than the ocean. Not as he watched its strong grip drag your motionless body further down below him.

Your back had just touched the soft seabed when he swam far enough down to envelope you in his embrace. He should have swum you back to the surface immediately, but in his distressed state, he couldn't help but foolishly stare at your lifeless appearance. Your skin was blue. It's just the water's colour, he told himself. Your eyes were closed. She's just asleep. Your neck didn't pulse under his touch. She's... She's...

He had no justification for that. Feet planted firmly on the sandy floor, he propelled both himself and you back up to the surface. As Finnick paddled back to the Cornucopia, the others reached down and helped lift your limp body onto the rocks.

"Is she...?"

"Peeta," Katniss quietly reprimanded him.

Finnick paid them no attention. He said nothing but trauma screamed in his eyes. His breathing was ragged and his hands were trembling as he frantically checked your pulse again—in both your wrists and your neck; he even pressed his ear to your chest. All he heard was the waves lapping against the rocks.

"No," he whispered again.

It seemed to be all he could say anymore. No. No, this couldn't be happening. You were just standing beside him a few minutes ago; your eyes were just looking into his. However much he tried to deny reality, it didn't seem to make it any less true. You were gone.

He choked out a rough determined breath, interlocked his hands over your chest, and began pressing repeatedly over your heart. Wet strands of tangled hair were strewn across the rocks like dead seaweed. The usual soft pink accompanying your cheeks was nowhere to be seen, devoid of any life.

"Come on, sweetheart," he muttered before pulling down your chin to blow air into your lungs. The kiss of life. And when nothing happened as he pulled away, he restarted the chest compressions. "Oh, don't do this to me," he begged, voice breaking. "Don't do this. Breathe."

Any moment now. Any moment, your eyes would flutter open, the colour would return to your glowing skin, and your heart would beat with life beneath his hands. Your lips would whisper his name and he would pull you into his arms, where he would keep you safe until the end of time.

"Breathe."

Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Nothing. He did it again. Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Silence. Maybe he should've just ripped his heart out and replaced yours with his own. Death would come for him within seconds but hearing something beating inside your chest would've made the sacrifice worth it.

Life would flash before his eyes and your beaming smile would be the last thing he'd get to see. His last thought would be of relief that you were alive.

Johanna rested a tentative hand on Finnick's shoulder. "Finnick, she's—"

"No, she's not!" he exclaimed, continuing his movements. "She's fine. Aren't you, baby? You're fine." He cupped your jaw, his thumb stroking your soft skin before he pressed his lips to yours and blew twice. "You're fine."

The golden bangle around his wrist glimmered in the sunshine as he pressed on your ribcage. All he had to do was keep you alive until Plutarch rescued everyone. One simple task and he failed.

"Finnick, we have to go," someone said. Who? He didn't know nor care.

Leave me, he wanted to say. Leave me here to die. Let the Careers mutilate my body, take my life, my last breath, but let it be by her side.

Something cracked beneath his palms and he knew one of your ribs had fractured. His arms stilled, half-expecting you to cry out in pain but then he remembered. And with that sickening crack came a devastating realisation—you really were gone.

A sob erupted from his throat and his head fell to your chest, drenching your already-soaked wetsuit with hot tears. Everything else seemed to disappear. The arena, the Careers who could attack again at any moment, the spectators who were avidly watching. Everything.

It was just him and you. He didn't care that his screams and deafening sobs could bring unwanted attention or jeopardise the group's safety. Any tribute with half a mind would know crossing him in such a state would be a fatal flaw. Even if they did, it wouldn't matter. Nothing mattered. Life no longer had meaning.

Finnick pulled your lifeless body onto his lap and cradled you protectively in his arms, lightly rocking back and forth. His forehead rested against your own, cold and damp. You always were the cold one, needing his touch to light a fire beneath your skin. He loved having you rely on him for warmth, but not like this.

"Come back to me, baby, please," he begged almost inaudibly. Tears were running down his cheeks as he brushed pieces of hair away from your face. His lips were on yours once more, heartbroken and painfully delicate; not to fill your lungs with air, but to fill your heart with his love in the hopes it would be enough to bring it back to life. "Don't leave me."

Pleas, prayers, begs, and wishes flew past his lips, over and over. And then they stopped and Finnick simply stared. Silence fell across the entire arena. The birds didn't chirp, the other tributes remained quiet, and the trees stood still. Even the water had calmed, resembling a perfectly flat mirror.

Finnick only had three words left on his tongue. Three final words to give you, wherever it was that you were. He slowly leaned down, squeezed his stinging eyes shut, and pressed a long farewell kiss to your forehead. His eyes remained closed as he parted from your skin, unable to take another look as he whispered his final goodbye.

"I love you."

And then, for the first time since he had rescued you from the blue depths, he felt his heart beating again. Just like yours was.

**********

There was a voice, distant yet reassuring—a lifeline to consciousness. Black was all there was. Coldness was all that was felt. It was desolate. But that voice... that voice was so anguished yet so familiar and encouraging that it lit a fire inside your chest, warming you from the inside out.

In the distance of the dark void was a figure, their body made entirely out of a pulsating golden light. Each word the voice spoke enhanced the light's brightness. "Come... me, please..." Brighter. "Don't leave..." And brighter.

The light was warm and comforting, just like the voice attached to it. Whoever's voice it was that brought the light resonated deep in your mind, tugging at the strings within your heart.

Your heart.

The thumping in your chest was weak, almost non-existent, but it was still there. Though it seemed time was running out. Pitch-black darkness outweighed the golden light ten-to-one; you could feel its cold breath creeping onto your back. So, you started running towards the figure. Sprinting. Until all that surrounded you was golden.

"I love you."

Water. At first, it came trickling out in two fluid streams from the sides of your mouth. Then suddenly, it was spraying into the air as choked coughs forced the liquid from your burning lungs. Light flooded your vision—not golden and inviting, but vivid and overwhelming.

There was something warm beneath your legs, against your arm, rubbing at your back, holding you in an upright position. While you heaved, dry-retched, and gasped, that soothing warmth remained.

As your airways began to clear and the expulsion of water ceased, your half-lidded eyes rolled around the area. Still dazed and disoriented, you struggled to make out what surrounded you. There was immense rippling blue, vibrant hues of green in the distance, dark rough grey beneath you, and elongated blobs of colour that stood a few feet away.

"Just–just keep breathing, sweetheart." That voice. The one belonging to the figure of light that brought you back. It was madly repeating the same words over and over. "You're okay", "Deep breaths", and "You're alive."

Shaky fingers brushed the stray wet strands of hair from your face. So warm. With the little energy you had, your head turned to seek out the golden light again. And you found it.

The blinding sun shining down reflected off his bronze hair, turning it a divine golden hue. His brows were raised and scrunched together as though he couldn't possibly believe what he was seeing. Deep lines were etched into his tear-streaked skin, evidence of his previous turmoil. Those sea-green eyes stared at you, afraid that if he so much as blinked, you would fall lifeless in his arms once more.

"You're here," he whispered.

Finnick. YourFinnick. Your light.

When your eyes met, a splitting grin lit up his face, made up of an inconceivable amount of raw emotion. You weren't sure what to do—smile, laugh, cry, kiss him? Your mind was scrambled, overwhelmed with love for the beautiful golden-haired man in front of you.

Without warning, your face scrunched up and the tears began flowing. You weren't sure why you were crying. Maybe it was because you had just been brought back from the brink of death; maybe it was because you couldn't believe someone actually cared so deeply about you.

Finnick cradled your face in his hand. "It's okay," his voice trembled, tears now cascading down his cheeks. His smile, however, never disappeared. "You're okay. You're safe now. I'm not letting you go."

He took your face into two large hands, brought you to his lips, and pressed a tender kiss to each tear that rolled over your skin. One of your hands rested over his; the other was placed against his chest, feeling it rise and fall so you could synchronise your breaths.

His arms moved to pull you tightly against him, almost like he was trying to merge your body with his. Or perhaps, it was your soul. You didn't care about the pain aching in one of your ribs. You wanted to tell him that his soul was already intertwined with your own, but words couldn't describe the sentiment as profoundly as you felt it.

In the simplest of terms your water-logged brain could muster, you whispered, "You're my light, Finnick."

Brows scrunched together, he looked down at you, fighting back the urge to start sobbing in your arms. If he had been anywhere else, if there wasn't an entire country watching, he would've gone on for hours, explaining how stupidly, selfishly, and incredibly in love with you he was.

But he couldn't do that. Not now. So, he placed his hand over the one you had resting on his chest and readjusted its position. He could feel the thumping, even through your palm.

Your eyes were full of emotion as you stared up into his. You already knew what his next words were going to be and for the first time since you were thrown into the water from the Cornucopia, you smiled.

Rhythmically, your hand and his pulsed together. Finnick's gaze flickered across your face and he grinned. "You're my heart."

[lovelookspretty]

Imagine sweetheart reader x rafe where her friends and family including rafe tells her she deserves better and rafe gets insecure and hurt and reader is there to comfort him and they have sex.

sweet

rafe cameron x sweetheart!reader

warning(s): 18+ smut mdni ! oral sex ( fem receiving ) & penetrative sex, p in v, reader is assumed to be on birth control, fingering, praises, choking, possessiveness, rafe is primal as hell ( jk not as hell but yk )

authors note: i changed it a bit js so its both families saying this. but i hope u enjoy !! sweating nervously ( edit : STOP WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME I TYPED SARAH N WHEEZIES NAMES WRONG PLS )

“you just deserve, i don’t know . . . literally anyone else?” wheezie says, earning a laugh from sarah across the table. you’re unsure of what to make of it as you sit there quietly.

you’re seated with rafe’s family outside their home for lunch. ward insisted you join them that day, but with you there, sarah and wheezie thought it would be funny to tease you guys. half of it was actual teasing but the other half seemed a little too . . . real.

you’re unable to even eat comfortably with the comments your boyfriend’s sisters have been making.

sarah goes to continue what she was saying after she’s done laughing, “sorry y/n but—”

“can you guys just shut up?”

the table falls silent as everyone looks to rafe who’s seated beside you.

rafe stares at his sisters, not understanding what’s going through their minds to be such assholes today. “whatever,” he mutters under his breath and pulls the napkin off of his lap, throwing it on the seat next to him. he gets up to leave you all outside.

you feel awful as you see his sisters glance at each other, and you excuse yourself from the table to follow him inside. “rafe,” you’re calling out to him but it’s clear that he wants to go upstairs to his room. “rafe, baby.”

he stops at the foot of the stairs, his back still turned to you as he listens to his name being called. after a moment, he sighs heavily and slowly makes his way back up the stairs, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“rafe,” you whisper to yourself as you continue up the stairs to chase after him some more, and you find yourself in his room.

rafe is pacing back and forth, his mind racing with all the things his sisters said and how it made him feel. he hears the click of the door shutting and his heart rate picks up, hoping it’s you. when he glances at the entrance, you’re standing there with a small frown on your face.

“baby, i don’t think they meant anything they’ve said,” you insist, but rafe is clearly not convinced. “they were just joking around.”

“joking around?” he scoffs, his voice laced with sarcasm. “they say shit like that every time you’re here. jokes can only be funny for so long. and it fucking hurts, okay? it . . .” his eyes well up in tears as he looks away, trying to explain himself. he’s just frustrated. “fuck,” he hisses, leaning his head down to wipe his eyes with his fingers.

“it . . . it makes me feel like i’m not good enough for you, like you deserve someone better than me,” rafe continues, and you hold your own hand as you listen, upset that he has to feel this way. “and your parents said the same thing last week, remember? when we had dinner with them?”

his words bring back the exact memories you wanted to bury deep under. you feel all the more worse for him.

“yeah, and it fucking cuts deep, knowing everyone around us thinks i’m not good enough for you. that i’m holding you back or something,” he says, and sits down on the edge of his bed. “fuck, maybe they’re right.”

you shake your head as you approach the boy carefully, wanting to respect his boundaries but also wanting to be there for him.

you lower yourself down on your knees in front of him, and you reach forward to take his hand into yours, your eyes pouring into his.

“we are absolutely equal, baby. they’re all just stupid and rude! if anything, you’re too good for me,” you reassure him. “i promise you this rafe. we deserve each other.”

rafe looks at you, his eyes searching for any sign of doubt or uncertainty, but all he finds is your unwavering love and support. he’s always known you to be his number one, to be his comfort, and the sweetest little thing he’s ever touched.

he nods and pulls you in for a tight hug. “i love you darlin’,” he whispers, the name rolling off his tongue just right that makes you smile each and every time.

his hands wander further down before he’s scooping you up onto his lap and his muscular arms wrap around your body.

rafe is silent for a while, and he just buries his face in the crook of your neck, squeezing you tight against him. his mind is racing with the most discouraging thoughts that make him wanna sink into the floor or just punch a wall, but having you here keeps him anchored. his breathing calms as he closes his eyes and just feels you.

“i don’t deserve anyone better than you, rafey. i just deserve you,” your voice is a mumble as trace different shapes and patterns on his shoulder and back. “don’t even deserve you, you hear me? i love you.”

you pull away to peck his lips once or twice. his lips are soft like usual but his kisses back are just a bit rougher than yours. you’re able to giggle about it as you pull him back in for the real thing.

rafe kisses you back softly, glad that you always know how to reassure him. he loves you so much and he trusts you with his heart.

his hands slide up and down your back as he enjoys the kiss. he moans softly into your mouth as he deepens it slowly. you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his torso, and you pull him closer to you as you makeout.

rafe chuckles and happily wraps his arms around your waist in turn. he presses you closer as you keep on keeping on. he loves it when you get as passionate as he does.

you whimper when his hands begin to guide your hips on top of him naturally. you can feel yourself grinding down against him slowly but surely, and his hands squeeze at your hips. “want you,” you plead in between the kiss.

rafe grins and bites your lip a little harder before pulling away, making you moan. “and i want you too, baby. don’t worry,” he says as he stands up easily with you in his arms.

he sets you on the bed and continues to kiss you, mumbling back, “i’ll take care of ya.” his hands explore the hem of your dress before his hands are underneath your dress, feeling your every curve.

“fuck, you look so beautiful,” rafe says as he pushes your dress up higher and higher until it’s bunched around your waist. he leans down to kiss your stomach and then your hips before he looks up at you with those hungry eyes of his. “let me see your pretty pussy, sweetheart.”

you’re shy but you lift your legs up for him to take off your underwear before you pull your legs apart, the sun through his window hitting your pussy perfectly for his view.

“fuck, that’s it. you look so adorable giving yourself to me like that,” he breathes and leans down to kiss your inner thighs, his stubble rubbing against your delicate skin. he starts by kissing around your pussy before licking the inside of your thighs.

your hand reaches down to run through his hair. “rafe,” you moan out.

“do you like watching me, sweetheart?" rafe asks with a smirk before he finally licks directly over your folds. he loves that he can make you moan just by kissing you. it makes him even more determined to make you enjoy it.

rafe continues to eat you out, his tongue moving in and out of your pussy at a fast pace. he’s so hungry for your taste and he can’t get enough.

he pushes your legs further apart and buries his face between your thighs, his hand reached out across your body to choke you softly. you use both of your hands to hold onto his arm.

rafe smirks up at you from between your legs. “you taste so fucking sweet,” he praises, continuing to lap at your pussy. he loves how wet he’s making you and it only turns him on more.

rafe finally decides to slip a finger inside of you, pumping it in and out steadily. he loves how your pussy clenches around his finger, trying to keep him from leaving. “look at you, sweet girl. can you take another one for me?”

when you nod, he adds another finger to the mix, and you feel it stretching you out. rafe’s thumb moves up to tease at your clit.

“do you like that, huh?” he asks, knowing very well that you’re enjoying this. he leans back down to flick his tongue back and forth against your clit.

you can’t take the stimulation from both his fingers and his mouth. “want you inside of me,” you manage to say between whimpers.

rafe doesn’t hesitate to give you what you’re begging for. he pulls his fingers out of your pussy, but brings them up to his mouth and sucks on them so he could taste you fully. the look on his face after could be mistaken for him tasting a batch of your warm, homemade cookies, but instead it’s your slick.

he works on undoing his belt before he’s pulling his pants and briefs all the way down. his cock is thick and heavy, with pre cum adorning his red tip. he’s desperate to feel you.

rafe moves up your body so quickly you barely notice until he’s coming down over top of you, one hand keeping him up as the other lines himself up with your pussy. he guides the head to drag back and forth between your folds, teasing you before he guides his tip in.

he uses his body to push himself deeper inside of you until his skin reaches yours, bottoming out. his jaw hangs slack at the feeling of being inside you again.

rafe has always been very good at giving into his primal urges. his need for sexual release is only heightened by the desire to please you, the love of his life. he continues to thrust deeply into you, enjoying the tight, wet feeling of your pussy.

“you feel so fucking good," rafe growls into your ear, thrusting deeper and harder with each stroke. he can’t hold back, not even if he wants to. his hand comes up from his side and grips your throat, gently choking you as he fucks you.

your eyes roll to the back of your head. “mmh,” you moan as your hands find his wrist against to hold onto it. “deeper. please.”

rafe chuckles darkly, his free hand reaching down to rub your clit in tight circles as he continues to fuck you. “oh, you want me to fuck you deeper? my filthy little sweetheart who loves getting choked and fucked senseless.”

you nod rapidly.

“god, you’re so fucking hot,” rafe breathes out, his hips snapping against yours at a maddening pace. “you’re mine, you know that, right? mine to choke, to fuck, to worship.”

“i’m yours rafe,” you say.

just moments pass and you already feel your clit burn in pleasure as you get closer to your high. you feel like bucking your hips up to get a better angle to make it come faster but rafe just thrusts faster and deeper, listening to the sounds you two make. it’s like heaven.

“that’s right, you’re mine,” rafe says, his voice low and husky. “you’re going to cum for me like a good girl, aren’t you? gonna take every inch of my cock and cum all over it.”

rafe’s thumb on your clit speeds up, his other hand keeping you in a tight chokehold as he fucks you relentlessly. “come on baby. cum for me. let me feel that pretty pussy squeeze my dick as you cum all over it, hmph?”

the tip of his cock hits your g-spot at the right pace that you feel yourself let go. rafe can read your body well enough that when you cum, he speaks up again,

“yeah, that’s it, fuck, you’re so fucking pretty when you cum for me,” rafe grunts, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own release. “you like that, sweet girl?”

“i love it baby,” you cry out as you’re being overstimulated while he’s fucking the cream you made back into you. you’ve made such a mess on his dick but you have a few extra moments to relish in the feeling.

rafe’s face contorts in pleasure as he buries himself deep inside you, his cock twitching as he releases his load inside your spasming pussy. “fuck, holy fuck . . .” his voice is low and quiet.

rafe’s thrusts gradually slow down as he catches his breath, his cock still buried deep inside you. his grip on your throat loosens, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, his body still trembling slightly from the aftermath.

rafe pulls out of you slowly, his cock glistening with your combined fluids. he takes the opportunity to plunge his fingers inside of your pussy one more time, while still warm and dripping. he curls his fingers at just the right angle before he pulls out of you again.

he brings his fingers to his mouth as he maintains eye contact with you, sucking one of them clean with a dirty grin on his face. he wants to make sure you’re seeing this.

“fuck baby. open up,” he mutters as he reaches out to you with his other finger that’s covered in your cum. “you just taste so sweet.”

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (8)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n : I had to cut some scenes, explained in the notes below, to be saved for a bonus chap or drabble. Also, I altered the outline, and this story isn't ending with 9 as originally intended. Happy Chem Ov release day! Enjoy 🖤

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The reader is left confused by Ewan's online stunt. If he really is content with keeping things casual, then why is he acting otherwise? Tensions reach their peak and Ewan is forced to face the consequences of the arrangement.

Day or night, Ewan will answer your call. 

Even when you seem overly irate at him, greeting him with, “Ewan, what the fuck was that picture?”

He exhales haughtily, your tone almost bringing him some twisted sense of pleasure. Like a ‘this is what you get’ type of reaction. Was he 7 or 27? He’s been labeled sensitive before, but right now, he can’t muster the energy to care.

“Hello to you too, darling,” he says, smoke billowing out of his lips as he lounges on his apartment balcony in London. He had convinced himself that his worries about you and Matt vanished the moment he reaffirmed you as his to the world. In this day and age, in your profession, that can easily be accomplished by something called a hard launch. The first image he posted was supposed to do just that, but the internet has a fickle memory. 

Several months had passed with nothing concrete circulating about you and Ewan, leading fans to readily accept the possibility that you were now dating Matt, prompted by the recent Deuxmoi feature. Granted, Ewan was spotted sneaking out of your building once, but what does that really prove?

Unfortunately, some others spun the story beyond recognition, protected by the anonymity afforded by their black mirrors. Aided with nothing but conjecture, they took it upon themselves to accuse you of infidelity. 

All in all, it had been an eventful 24 hours. His impulsive act of possessiveness quickly turned into a mutable gossip headline.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” you reply immediately. “Why would you post that? I didn’t even know you took it in the first place.”

“I was doing you a favour. Don’t you see? People are under the impression that we’re still together.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Darling, you know it matters. It’s not a good look that you were spotted with someone else, you know what people are like,” he said. 

“Oh, thank you so much for saving me from public ridicule, Ewan,” you say, tone dripping with sarcasm. “Since when do you care about what people say? You stay offline for this exact reason.”

“I know some mean things were being said about you.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” you insist, but you no longer sound sure.

“I’m doing you a favour,” he says. “If that picture remains, then it’s basically a ‘fuck you’ to all the people who accuse you cheating on me.”

“How can I cheat on you, Ewan? We’re not together.”

He bristles at that statement, the truth that sits unpleasant in the back of his mind. It hurts that you’re right. “You know what I mean,” he musters. 

He hears nothing for a while, save for some shuffling in the background. Are you screaming your frustrations into your pillow? Is your fist raised at the skies, cursing his name? Tell him you hate him, and he will crumble. The three words will come out of him unrestrained. I love you, followed by, please don’t leave me. 

But they already have spilled out of him, lost among his tearful pleas in the car. That night in September, he crumbled and he lost you anyway. What good would it do now? What difference would it make?

You finally speak, and he hears the frustration in your voice, even as it softens, “You’re so fucking infuriating.”

He can’t help but chuckle, the sound low and easy, “Hey, baby, you’re the one who called me.”

But your next words wipe the smile right off his face. “Ewan… this isn’t going to be the last of it. Sooner or later, we’ll have to make it known that we’re not as in love as everyone thinks.”

He frowns, not accepting that you’re pressing on the topic. “Why?”

“Your memory must be so twisted, Ewan,” you sigh, and he can picture you shaking your head, “Don’t you have that ironclad PR arrangement for your new film?”

His chest tightens. Leave it to you to be the bearer of harsh truths. “That… That might not happen.”

“Might not? Oh, for fuck’s sake, you didn’t quit, did you?”

“No, I didn’t quit,” he answers quickly, trying to keep his voice steady. “But can we not talk about the film? It’s not what matters right now.”

“But it does, Ewan,” you insist, the concern in your voice gnawing at him, “you’ve got this important thing, and I… what if I want out? What if I want something real?”

“Something… real.” It's like a punch to his gut, nightmare fuel, and he scrambles for a response. “Like what?”

“I don’t know… I just – ”

“This isn’t real enough for you?” There is no hiding the vulnerability in his voice now. It wouldn’t even work if he tried. “I… I’m not…”

“Ewan.”

You refuse to answer his question, and he thinks it’s for the best. He responds with his usual, “Darling.”

“What are you going to do about that picture?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,” he finally decides. 

“What?”

“I’ll get rid of it.”

“Okay. Good.” He can hear the relief in your voice, but he’s not done yet. 

“But you can’t get rid of us,” he says firmly, leaving no room for negotiation. “I won’t let you.”

You groan, “Ewan… ”

His reply is curt, daring you to disagree, “Darling.”

He’s met with a long and uncomfortable silence, the air thick with everything left unsaid. He needs to break it. He needs a diversion. “Are you home?” he asks.

“Why?”

Even over the line, he can feel you pulling away, like your tether to him is loosening. He can’t let that happen again. “Are you still angry with me?”

“Why?”

“Why don’t I come over and we can hash it out?” His voice drops into that rhythm, the one he knows you couldn’t resist. 

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Maybe so,” he admits, a small smile playing on his lips, “but I want you.”

He waits with bated breath, ready to run out the door at your word.

“I can’t believe you, Mitchell,” you sigh, your amusement at him bleeding through. It’s all he needs.

“See you soon, darling.”

All throughout the night, he doesn’t let you go. The moment he steps through your door, the tension from the call dissolves into something more primal, something neither of you can resist. Every touch feels like a desperate attempt to hold onto a love that might slip away, even if just for a moment.

Deep down, he knows, just as you do, that this can’t last. But as the night stretches on and he holds you close, he pushes that thought away, burying it in the recesses of his mind. 

This is enough, even for now. 

And so the song remains the same.

Clad in full costume, you tread the halls of the set, your posture noticeably straighter. Alyna’s attire has a way of transforming you, making each step purposeful, each glance sharp. The familiar weight of the prop weapons at your side makes you feel like a true fighter. 

The Watford studio is buzzing with energy as the Entertainment Weekly photoshoot unfolds, the set alive with activity. It is one of the actual sets used for the show, so you feel right at home - Alyna Rivers in her natural habitat. 

You weave through the crowd, careful to avoid Ewan, whose presence you can never shake off. You’ve never actually been together, in a big group setting such as this, since the beginning of the arrangement. The cast definitely knows something is going on, especially after Ewan’s last daring post on Instagram. Ewan hadn’t deleted the post – he simply deactivated his profile instead. You noticed it the next day when you tried to check, only to find his account gone.

The realisation left you conflicted. On one hand, it meant the picture wasn’t out there anymore. But on the other, it felt like a temporary fix, a way of avoiding the real issue rather than confronting it head-on. It was a pause, not an ending. The post still existed technically, suspended in some middle realm. 

Since the cast is not privy to the sordid details of your arrangement, you think it best to keep interactions with him at a minimum. It had been constantly nagging at you, the thought of being with him but not really. Are you even allowed to hold his hand in front of your friends? Won’t that be crossing the line, breaking the rules that he set when he promised that, you won’t be his and he won’t be yours?

Alyna would never, not in a hundred years, allow herself to be put in this position. Especially not by Aemond Targaryen, of all people.

Just as you start to relax, Matt materialises by your side, a wide grin plastered on his face.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the fiercest bastard in the realm,” Matt says, looking every bit as Daemon with his Targaryen blacks and silver-blonde wig, giving you an exaggerated once-over. “Looking for your next conquest?”

“Careful, Matthew,” you shoot back, smirking. “Alyna’s got a list, and you’re edging pretty close to the top.”

“Good to know I’m on your mind, and as a top priority, nonetheless,” he teases, nudging you playfully. “But let’s be real, you’d miss me too much.”

You laugh, the sound echoing off the stone walls. “Miss your terrible jokes, maybe.”

“You love my humour,” he insists. “I’m just saying, when you get tired of shooting arrows and swinging swords, let me know. I would like to take you out into the real world.”

You raise an eyebrow, cheeks heating up. He caught you off guard, so thank the gods for the sheer boldness that Alyna wears like skin, rubbing off on you as you stand in her shoes. “Is Daemon asking Alyna on a date, Smithy?”

“Depends,” he quips, a sly grin on his face. “Is it working?”

Before you can respond, Tom saunters over, clearly not one to miss out on the fun. “What’s this I hear? Matt finally working up the nerve to ask his on-screen sidekick out? Either I’m going mad or my five espresso shots are working.”

“Watch it, you,” you warn him playfully, unable to suppress a grin. “Alyna’s still got some arrows left. And I’m not his sidekick.”

Tom smirks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re all talk.”

“Want to test that theory?” you challenge, raising an imaginary bow. Matt lets out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest as if struck.

“See? Deadly,” Matt says, winking at you. “So, what do you say? Coffee, next week? Somewhere far from dragons and politicking?”

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin. “You know, that doesn’t sound half bad. As long as you promise not to reenact your last attempt at flirting.”

“Ouch,” Matt laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll do my best.”

As the photographer calls for everyone to take their places, you catch a glimpse of Ewan watching from a distance, his jaw clenched. The amusement in Matt’s eyes tells you he’s noticed too.

“You’re playing with fire, you know,” you whisper to Matt as you walk toward the set.

He grins, lowering his voice. “I wasn’t called the Rogue Prince for no reason. Besides, I am the blood of the dragon.”

“Sure you are,” you reply, but you are unable to ignore the thrill of Ewan’s intense focus. 

The set buzzes with activity, cast members instructed to maintain their character’s demeanour for the photographs. The Greens go first, with their designated groupings, with Ewan and Gayle sharing a close-up shot. From where you stand behind the cameras, you can feel Ewan’s gaze locked on you, his presence heavy and distracting. After a while, you feel the need to step away, walking further to the side. 

He remains silent, his focus clearly split between you and Matt, who keeps up a steady stream of clever remarks that make you laugh. Each one seems to darken Ewan’s mood further. The tension becomes so palpable that the director finally calls out, “Ewan, can we get your attention over here, please? You’re off your mark.”

Liv and Phia, still awaiting their cues, scurry over to where you stand. Liv leans in with a knowing smirk on her face, whispering in your ear. “Trouble in paradise?” Of course they’ve noticed Ewan’s odd behaviour. 

“More like purgatory,” Phia quips, scrunching her nose.

“Something like that,” you murmur, eyes flicking over to Ewan, who’s now talking with Gayle and the director, looking over the shots taken, though his attention doesn’t stray far from you.

“Well, if you need an escape route, just say the word,” Liv offers, her voice full of concern.

“Do you want me to stare back at Ewan?” Matt cheekily offers, making you punch him on the shoulder. He only laughs openly, the sound free and uninhibited and just Matt. 

“Thanks, guys,” you say, grateful for their friendship. But you know there’s no easy way out of this tangled mess. Not with the way Ewan is watching you and Matt like he’s one step away from bringing The Battle Above The Gods Eye to fruition.

Not long after, it’s time for the Blacks to step onto the set. As you move into position, you can feel Ewan’s gaze practically searing into your back. You fight the urge to laugh. Or grimace. Or shoot him a questioning look. The idea of Ewan in his full Aemond costume brooding over you is something indeed. The fangirl in you would have been sent reeling, if only he wasn’t so fucking infuriating. 

You spot Liv, Tom, and Phia swooping in like a rescue squad with a mission to derail Ewan’s brooding. Phia, ever the animated theater kid, practically throws herself in front of Ewan, waving her hands like she’s recounting the world’s most thrilling tale.

“Ewan, did you catch that last shot of Helaena? Absolute perfection,” she says, grinning.

Tom saunters up, “Care to explain why you are standing here lurking like some stalker? You’re scaring the crew, mate.”

Phia gently nudges Ewan away from your line of sight. “Come on, Ewan. Let’s go for a smoke, it’s stuffy in here.”

Ewan’s clearly torn, but he’s powerless against his friends’ instigation. You bite back a laugh as you see him getting pulled in every direction. Your makeshift rescue team really needs to get their act together, but you love them anyway. The camera snaps away, and you focus on your poses. Knowing that Phia and the gang are running interference, you’re free to enjoy the moment and be Alyna as the photoshoot demands. You can save the enjoyment from watching him squirm later. 

The photoshoot wraps up in the evening and everyone begins to gather their things, preparing to leave. Cast members chat, stretch, and discuss plans for the week.

“So, coffee next week?” Matt asks again, this time with a bit more seriousness.

“Yeah,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll see what I have scheduled then I’ll give you a call.”

“Great. I’ll even let you pick the place. Well, I’ll be off, love, I’m meeting my sister.” he says. Then, as if sensing something, he leans in closer. “But I’d better give you something to remember me by.”

Before you can react, Matt pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you warmly. The embrace lingers just a moment longer than necessary, and as he pulls back, he plants a soft, teasing kiss on your cheek. You catch the mischievous glint in his eyes. What is he up to?

As Matt releases you and heads out of the studio, you spot Ewan coming toward you, his presence all too familiar. He doesn’t say anything at first, and just stands there, his silence more charged than anything he could have spoken. His expression is stoic, but with the way his lips are pursed and his nostrils are flared, you would say that he’s bothered. He’s jealous.

“You seemed to be having fun,” he finally says, his tone casual, though the tension is unmistakable.

“Mmm, maybe I was,” you reply, meeting his gaze head-on. “Is there a problem?”

Ewan’s eyes narrow slightly, but he shakes his head. “Not at all. Just… nevermind. I’m sure you know, we’ve been booked for a magazine feature coming up in a few days.”

You freeze. “Yeah, I heard. What about it?”

“I’m just making sure that you’re okay with it, darling.”

“It’s work, Ewan,” you reply tersely. “We’ll deal with it.”

The tension breaks when Fabien swoops in, his flawless smile in place. “So, you’re stealing Matt away from me now?” he teases, and there’s an edge to his question. He’s still on the fence about you and Ewan, as he feels protective of his friend. But he’s aware that there’s no simple right or wrong here. You both hurt each other; that much is clear. 

“Maybe,” you quip back, shrugging with feigned innocence. “He seems to like my company.”

Fabien laughs, though there’s a hint of something serious beneath it. “I’ll allow it – this time. But don’t forget, I’ve got dibs on him for the next round of drinks.”

As Fabien’s laughter fades, Ewan’s voice cuts through the lightheartedness. “I don’t think she needs your protection, Fabien.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, rolling your eyes. “I don’t need looking after, Ewan.”

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his voice dropping to something darker. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop.”

There’s a challenge in his words, one that sends a thrill of anticipation through you, even as you know it’s a dangerous game you’re all playing. The fire between you smoulders, waiting for the next spark to ignite it. Is Matt that spark? No, you realise, both your actions will be enough to bring everything crashing down.

For now, you step away, leaving Ewan to stew in his misguided jealousy. 

“See you around, Fabs,” you wrap your arms around his neck, giving him a hug goodbye. “I’ll see you for our shoot, yeah?” you tell Ewan, making it clear that you’re not up for another dalliance in between. 

He gets the hint, nodding tersely. But he doesn’t just let you go, not without making his mark, the thing he ached so badly to do in front of Matt, but couldn’t. 

He briefly casts a glance around the room to make sure no one else is hovering, then presses a soft against your lips, leaving you no time to protest. 

You’re exhausted. You’re frustrated. You shouldn’t give in to this, but you do. He feels right; he feels like home. 

If home is a Motel 6 along the highway, ready to kick you out at a moment’s notice. Isn’t that just a knife in the gut?

You pull away after a second, and he smiles, his thumb lightly grazing your cheek.

Fabien shakes his head, a feeling of warmth rising within him at the sight of his two friends who clearly belong together. If only they would get their heads out of their asses.

You seem to remember his presence, pushing away from Ewan’s hold.

Fabien can only roll his eyes. 

Only two days later, and you’re back to work once more. The British Vogue photoshoot has its focus on high fashion, set against the backdrop of an American West-inspired ranch. It doesn’t dwell on you and Ewan as celebrity figures, which is why you agreed to the shoot in the first place. 

Walking onto set, you’re struck with awe at the dramatic tableau of worn wooden fences, hay bales, and lasso props. But your amazement reaches its absolute peak when Ewan emerges, in full cowboy attire. 

Fuck. You bite your lip, and you can almost hear your heart pounding. Unbeknownst to you, the crew notices your flustered state, but they think it’s just you admiring your boyfriend as expected. 

He meets your eyes from across the room, then saunters over to you, that characteristic smirk set on his lips. Your breath catches in your throat, when he tips his hat and greets, “Howdy, darling.”

“Why, hello, good sir,” you try to match his tone, giving a playful curtsy. 

“Ready to give them a show?” he asks, and you’re sure if he’s referring to the photoshoot or the possibility that the two of you might have to play at being a couple as these people expect. You opt to believe the former. 

As the shoot progresses, the tension between you and Ewan becomes almost unbearable. You’re clad in an elaborate, haute couture cowgirl outfit. A sculptural corset made of brown leather, with a tailored vest on top. A floor-length skirt with a high slit reaching your upper thigh, dyed to a rich gradient of burnt sienna. Knee-high heeled boots. A leather choker with a central silver pendant rests on your neck, dangling provocatively. 

For the first set of shots, both of you casually lean against the fence. Ewan poses beside you, watching you with an intensity that is both electrifying and maddening. His gaze is hungry, almost predatory, and you almost forget about the elaborate set around you. Thankfully, each blinding flash of the camera pulls you back into the real world. Keeping you from riding a cowboy right down on the hay bales. How does the saying go? Save a horse…

The photographer snaps you out of it, as he shouts a direction for you to pose solo with a lasso draped over your shoulder. Ewan steps out of the frame, leaning against a wooden post, his eyes locked on you as if he’s trying to memorise every detail of this look. 

“Alright, let’s try a more dramatic pose,” the photographer instructs. “Maybe something with a bit more attitude.”

You adjust your stance, twisting slightly to emphasise the curve of your waist. As you do, you momentarily meet Ewan’s gaze. His eyes are dark with something like desire, and his lips are set in a grim line. 

“I can’t even articulate what you’re doing to me, darling,” Ewan murmurs in your ear, when the photographer calls for a 5-minute break. Set assistants run onto the scene, adding and rearranging props for the next round of shots.

You smirk, “Speak for yourself, Mitchell.”

“Mmm,” he hums, satisfied. 

The next shot calls for Ewan to stand behind you, his arms wrapped around your figure, the position as intimate as can be. Each click of the camera seems to heighten the tension.

His breath is warm against your neck, the sheer proximity electrifying, causing your entire body to heat up underneath the layers of leather and cotton. His heartbeat matches yours, quick and erratic. His voice is a mere whisper, barely audible over the camera clicks. “You’re making this incredibly difficult, you know.”

You tilt your head slightly, “Difficult how, exactly?”

“Keeping my hands off you is the hardest part of my day,” he replies, his voice husky with restrained desire. “It’s like you’re daring me to break every rule we’ve set.”

That you’ve set, you want to correct him, but you bite your tongue. A bitter chuckle escapes you, the sound a mix of frustration and amusement. “So what if I am,” you tease, bending back slightly into his embrace, feeling his body heat against yours. He welcomes your closeness, leaning into you. 

For the next few minutes, it’s a game of seduction and denial, every movement aimed at tormenting the other. The crew, blissfully unaware of the full extent of the tension, is generally pleased about the atmosphere of the shoot. In their minds, you and Ewan are simply leaning into your real-life chemistry and romance.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Little do they know.

In the brightly lit break room, the hum of distant chatter from the set fills the silence between you and Ewan. He’s seated across from you, his gaze unyielding as you check your phone.

His voice breaks the quiet, his tone deceptively casual but laced with curiosity. “Doing anything tomorrow?”

You look up, meeting his eyes, before tentatively answering. “Actually, yes.”

His brows lift, his curiosity piqued. “Care to elaborate, darling?”

You shift in your seat, trying to mask the tension in your voice. “I’m supposed to grab coffee with Matt.”

“Matt.” Ewan’s voice is low as he repeats the familiar name. “Just the two of you?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause, his expression morphing from curiosity to something more intense. “Is it… is it a date?”

“I think that was implied,” you reply, your tone deliberately nonchalant as you try to maintain control of the conversation.

“Really.” His voice tightens, his response loaded with a mix of disbelief and frustration.

You notice the obvious shift in his demeanour, the way his jaw clenches and his eyes darken. “Why the long face?”

Ewan’s hands ball into fists on the table, his composure breaking. “Fuck, I—”

Before he can finish, you cut him off, your own frustration simmering. “Forget it. Don’t answer that.”

“No, just…” His voice falters, his emotions raw. “I don’t want you to go.”

You blink, taken aback by his admission. “Are you being serious right now, Mitchell?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Ewan’s eyes lock onto yours, filled with a mix of hurt and possessiveness. A concoction borne out of circumstances of his own making. Or had it been you, last September? You can no longer keep track of whose fault reigns over everything. The truth of the matter is, you love him. Of course you do.

But nothing feels right anymore. 

“I don’t know,” you retort, your voice rising slightly, “I hope you are. Because you can’t just say that to me.”

“But I am.” His tone is resigned but unwavering. “I don’t want to watch you with someone else.”

The words hit you like a cold splash of water, freezing you in place. “Then I’m ignoring what you just said. This isn’t fair to me.”

His face falls. “You can’t just ignore it. It’s not that simple.”

You stand up abruptly, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on you. “Well, I don’t see how this conversation is going to help anything.”

He stands as well, his expression pained and conflicted. “I just – damn it. Wait a minute, darling – ”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Look, if you’re going to act like this, then maybe we need to rethink – ”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice desperate. “I don’t want to rethink anything. I just… I need you to understand that this isn’t easy for me.”

The room falls silent, both of you breathing heavily. The unresolved problem lingers, the weight of it all hanging heavily between you. 

You take a final look at him, feeling a mixture of anger and longing. “I’m gonna go get some air.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn and walk out of the break room, the doors closing sharply behind you. Ewan is left alone, frustration clear on his face as he stares at the empty space where you once stood.

Ewan is sprawled on his couch, a half-empty bottle of beer resting on the coffee table. The warm light of a lamp casts a muted glow over his apartment, which is littered with the remnants of his evening alone. He has seen the latest headlines about you and Matt, enjoying a date in Hyde Park.

Hyde Park Outing: Is it Love in the Air for these HBO Actors?

He tries to ignore them all, but the nagging bitterness won’t let him be. The images and headlines keep flashing in his mind. Unable to shake the frustration, he sends a quick message to Tom and Phia, inviting them over for a casual distraction.

A short while later, they arrive, carrying a six-pack and a box of takeout. Ewan greets them with a tired smile, which barely masks his despondence.

“Evening,” he says, opening the door wider to let them in. “Glad you could make it.”

Phia gives him a sympathetic look as she steps inside, setting down the food. “We came prepared. Looks like you could use a break.”

Tom follows, his eyes scanning the cluttered room. “And some beers. We figured you might need them.”

Ewan leads them to the living room, where they settle onto the couch. As they crack open the beers and start munching away, the initial wariness fades, replaced by casual conversation. His two guests are careful not to broach the topic of you, but they know it’s inevitable. Soon enough, it will be time to get down to business, which is essentially what they came for. They’re the rescue squad after all. 

“So… we have a feeling we know what’s been eating at you,” Tom says, taking a swig of his beer. “We saw the headlines, mate. Don’t even deny it. It’s gotta be rough.”

Ewan grimaces, his hand gripping the bottle a little tighter. “Yeah, the headlines. they’re , uhhhh … oh, what does it even matter?”

Phia raises an eyebrow, glancing at him. “Come on, kid. It matters. You can talk to us. We weren’t cast as siblings for no reason.”

Ewan lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “We have this thing, this casual thing. But seeing her with someone else... it’s like a punch to the gut.”

Tom nods sympathetically. “I get it. I’m sure it was fun at first, but – ” 

Phia’s concern wins over her, leading her to interject, “Ewan, maybe you need to bloody talk to her. Figure out where you both stand.”

Ewan shakes his head, though his expression softens, and his unmistakable vulnerability shines through. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to see where that leads.”

Phia reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “Ask her why she ended things last year.”

“I know why – ”

“Just… ask her again? You might find out more than you expect.”

Tom waits a beat before butting in with a light-hearted chuckle, “It’s better than letting it fester. At least you’ll know where you stand. You owe her that much.”

Ewan huffs out a laugh, the bitterness in his voice giving way to reluctant amusement. “Maybe. I just don’t want to make things worse.”

“Mate,” Tom shakes his shoulder, “look at the state of things. How in the bloody hell can you make it even worse? I don’t think it’s possible.”

Phia just smirks at his boldness, but she agrees, nodding to Ewan, “He’s right, you know.”

Tom raises his beer in a mock toast. “To Aemond and Alyna.”

“Oh, you absolute rascal,” Phia laughs in disbelief. 

But they all clink their bottles together, the gesture a small comfort amidst the confusion. The evening winds down after an hour, and after they depart, Ewan’s mind is still consumed with thought.

Day or night, you will answer Ewan’s call.

“Hello?” your voice patches through after a few rings.

“Darling,” he says, “I think we need to talk.”

💌 next chapter

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Some notes in the margins...

I did have Matt and the reader's date written out, but I thought it seemed superfluous for this one. Maybe in a bonus chapter?

In the next one: 'THE talk', Ewan dealing with stuff for his film, whippets, interviews, MORE headlines... will they finally resolve everything?

Also, if yous want, I can give a glimpse on what would have happened if Matt got the BV shoot instead :)

The end isn't even within reach. More angst to follow. How can there be more, you ask? Let's hash it out below 😉💙

[teaboot]

While I'm happy that the word "gaslighting" is more known than it used to be, and that people at large are learning to recognize what it looks like, I feel like we need to be careful not to turn it into something soft and casual we throw around off the cuff without meaning.

Being gaslit is psychological abuse that fucks you up very badly, very slowly, at such a gradual pace that you don't usually know it's happening until it's already re-wired your brain.

If you're unfamiliar with the term, "to gaslight" is to intentionally persuade someone that they cannot trust their own perceptions of reality. It's a destabilizing form of manipulation that leaves you constantly anxious, off-balanced, confused, and dependant on others.

This is done by lying about events that have happened or about things that are happening, invalidating feelings and observations, and either denying, refusing to acknowledge, or deflecting away from hard facts.

As someone who has experienced gaslighting as a form of abuse, this is what I remember from when I didn't know anything was off:

"Oh, I must have forgotten what really happened."

"I'm just not seeing it from their point of view."

"Everyone has their ups and downs. This is normal."

"I guess I wasn't thinking about what I was doing."

"I must have been wrong."

This is what I remember from when I first started realizing something was weird:

"How come every time I'm convinced they did something wrong, they just talk to me a few minutes, and I end up asking for their forgiveness? What has me so convinced I was right in the first moment?"

"I should start writing things down when they happen, so I can go back and check later when I'm confused."

"If every relationship like ours (familial, romantic, platonic) works this way, how come I never hear about it, or read about it, or see it anywhere else?"

Getting out and adjusting to the real world is hard, too, and comes with rapid swings of unfounded guilt, shame, fear, anxiety, and self-deprication that are completely unfounded in reality.

You've been conditioned to believe that you are entirely helpless and unable to think for yourself, possibly "crazy" or otherwise fundamentally impaired, and that there is a singular source of guidance that knows exactly what is right, and all of a sudden that pillar of support has vanished.

The immediate "after" that I recall looks like:

Constant uncertainty. Because nobody is there to tell you what's real and what isn't, you approach every situation thinking at it from all angles. Every question has fifty possible answers and most of them are wrong and you don't know which. If you choose wrong, the world will end.

A sense of helplessness. You feel that nothing you do is correct, and it's easier to make no choices at all- or you make wild, reckless, impulsive choices, because you feel you have nothing to lose.

Memory loss. I don't understand this one, but it's not like memoriescare being erased, but more like... you're so used to treating your memories as dreams or imaginations that you reflexively dismiss anything you recall as fake, and you can't believe anything you recall because you don't think it was real. Your abusers voice is in your head, wiping things away and telling you that you did the wrong thing. And you believe them, because they're the only constant you can rely on.

Missing the abuser, or the abusive dynamic. Because you know now that it wasn't healthy, but at least you knew where you stood. As long as you said the right things and acted the right way, agreed and obeyed and did as they expected, you felt like thevworld made sense. Now you have to figure out which parts of you really are broken, and which parts are working fine in a really weird way, and it's like tuning a piano when you've never played one before.

The long term "after"- for which I can only speak for myself- looks like:

Having to double-check, triple-check, and continue checking hard evidence of an event before responding in an active way.

Consulting with trusted friends to verify that your observations are legitimate and that your perceptions are valid. Following up with them to see if someone is really angry at you, or if you're just projecting anger onto them because it's what makes sense to your old pattern.

Obsessive collection of "evidence"- saving pictures, writing detailed journals, making recordings and video, never deleting emails or old texts, because you still don't quite trust yourself all the way and you're afraid that someone will cause you to doubt yourself again.

Continued self-doubt and being "gullible": I have straight up seen people flip me off to my face in front of witnesses and then immediately tell me, "No, I was just waving", and my first instinct is to believe them. For a few seconds, I *really do* believe them. Your brain is so trained to latch onto what people tell you to believe that its really, really hard to hold onto information that you already have.

Learning to take ownership over your own actions. (I didn't mess up because I'm "crazy", I messed up because I'm a person and people do that.)

Instinctively seeking approval. (Takes a lot of work to remind myself that I don't exit to make people happy, and that some people suck ass, and I can tell them to piss off.)

I don't intend to invalidate anyone currently struggling with this- if you feel that something is wrong, it probably is. That's the thought that got me out. Trust that feeling that something isn't right.

I just want people who don't know what to look for to know what gaslighting *actually* looks and feels like, so they don't just roll their eyes and think, "Oh, that word doesnt apply to me- I'm not some snowflake".

('Cause we all saw what happened with "triggered", right?)

[evnnkinard]

the first time after they have sex buck tries not to be too clingy. holds onto the following moments post orgasm where tommy's still on top of him, inside of him, and they trade slow, soft kisses, panting into each others mouths. lets himself run his hands across tommy's skin, down his back, over his sides, memorising. but bites back his whine when tommy finally pulls away. he hums softly when tommy kisses his cheek and murmurs, "i'll be right back," and ignores the urge to grab his hand and beg him to stay. lets him leave the bed and tries to focus on something else other than the way his skin immediately feels cold. tries not to feel disappointed. reminds himself that everybody has different needs, it's not all about him. instead, tries to summon the energy to get his own legs working again so he can get up, too.

and then tommy's back. there's a cloth, damp with warm water, swiping gently across his stomach, down his thighs, cleaning him. he can't help the sound that escapes him this time when tommy wipes over his hole, still sensitive, even with as careful as tommy is. tommy runs a hand along his thigh, soothing, apologetic, says, "sorry, kid. you'll regret it in about five minutes if we don't clean up now though, trust me," his voice is raspy, still sounding as thoroughly fucked as when he was in the process of actually fucking buck. buck tries not to preen.

and then tommy's throwing the cloth across the room and buck hears the gentle thump of it landing in the laundry basket. thinks, stupidly, 'score'. and then there's a kiss being placed on buck's inner thigh, and then his stomach, and then tommy's making his way back up buck's body, kissing his mouth. buck sighs, melts into the kiss. doesn't grab onto tommy's shoulder, the back of his head, like he so desperately wants to. lets tommy pull away again, though he doesn't go far this time, hovering over buck.

"s'okay. you- you didn't have to do that, though. i- i would've-" and tommy shuts him up with another kiss. he's smiling oh so softly when he pulls away, has his 'evan' expression on his face, as everyone else has deemed it. flicks his eyes over buck's face, searching, says, "evan. i wanted to, okay? i like looking after you. makes my hindbrain happy."

buck laughs, feels warm in the way he's come accustomed to feeling when he's with tommy, and tommy's smile widens, like he's accomplished exactly what he wanted to and then he's flopping down next to buck, close, so close that their shoulders, arms, thighs are touching, pressed lightly against each other, but he doesn't move to do anything else. a minute ticks by and buck wants to shuffle closer, curl his body around his boyfriends and have tommy's arms wrap around him, engulf him in that way that always makes him feel safe, loved. knows if he asked, tommy would absolutely oblige because he's so good, so amazing like that. doesn't ask. doesn't want to put tommy out. stays where he is, settles for the points of contact they're already sharing despite the ways his skin screams-

"evan," buck startles, doesn't think it's the first time tommy's said his name. rolls his head on his pillow and finds tommy already looking at him, eyes crinkled in amusement. wants to reach out and run his fingers along the lines, ingrain them into his memory. doesn't, but tommy does. reaches out with both hands, pulls at him, gently but firmly, "come on, get over here, i wanna cuddle," he manhandles and rearranges buck how he wants him, until buck's lying half on top of him. head tucked under his chin, one of his thighs thrown across his legs and buck has to remind his dick that they've just had sex and to calm the fuck down because fuck- that's hot, but now's really not the time. one of tommy's arms falls across his waist, tugging buck impossibly closer, like he'd tuck buck inside his skin if he could. buck wouldn't stop him. tommy's other hand comes to rest against buck's head, fingers occasionally moving to pet at his mess of curls.

and buck tucks his face further into tommy's neck, takes a breathe, and another, surrounds his senses with his boyfriend. clings, because he thinks it's okay this time. tommy's clinging, too. lips press to the top of his head, dropping a kiss there. hears tommy's soft, "you okay?"

"yeah. yeah, i'm okay. just- this- this is nice. i- i really like being close to you."

"yeah? good. i really like being close to you, too, evan."

[thesoftestpunk]

I want you, Baby I need you

Summary: your friend tells you someone may like you and so stupidly, you begin to think about them a little differently

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

A/N: I feel like my brain fog made the pacing weird :/

Warnings: bullying, girls being mean :(, lots of fluff and pining!!

Main Masterlist

Pt.2

“Guess what?” One of your teammates, Christina, asks the second you place your tray down on the table, looking too smug for your liking. Before you can even ask, she’s talking over you. “The freak has a crush on you.”

“Who?” You genuinely forget who she’s referring to for a second, but her scoff seems to jog your memory. “Oh. Eddie Munson?” 

“Who else?” She sneers, and everyone else around you laughs like it’s some huge joke, but you’re certain she isn’t joking. “God, how embarrassing.”

Your cheeks burn as they laugh even harder. You let out a weak chuckle, feeling the world around you shrink and become suffocating. 

“Yeah,” you let out, trying to play along. “Could you imagine? Me and him?” 

You blatantly refuse to call him a freak. Since moving into town two years ago, you quickly learned city life and small town life were completely different worlds. Despite falling in with the semi-popular crowd by joining the swimming team, you understood the struggle Eddie and his friends had to go through. You weren’t freak status back home, but you weren’t popular either. Not always well known, but always well liked, and your new friends teasing him about the rumor makes you worry about it spreading. For your sake and not his. You don’t want to deal with any sort of teasing from anyone.

Guilt crawls up your throat as you steal a glance toward his table, catching his eye as he curiously looks on at the boisterous scene going on around you. You give a quick smile, which probably comes off as more of a wince, and turn back around. In all honesty, he hasn’t been on your radar. You don’t know much about him other than the fact that he’s loud, labeled The Freak of Hawkins High, and has made a scene or two in class. 

“Oh god,” Christina sighs out, wiping nonexistent tears from her eyes. “Pathetic.” 

Humming half heartedly, you focus on shoving your shitty school food around your tray instead of eating it, a sudden pit sitting heavy in your stomach. Because Eddie having a crush on you actually felt flattering. 

You choose to sit next to him in English, even give a small smile when you sit. There’s still time before the bell rings, and you find yourself glancing over at him. You open and close your mouth, uncertain of what to say until the words suddenly come tumbling out.

“How many tattoos do you have?”

For a second he doesn’t realize you’re talking to him until the silence makes him look up and realize you’re staring straight at him, expectantly. He points to himself as if asking ‘me?’ eyebrows raised and his already wide doe eyes getting even wider. And you nod while fighting off a smile. 

“Why d’you wanna know?” He eyes you suspiciously, certain that whatever information you’re about to get out of him is going to get back to your friends and fuel the constant fire over his head. 

“I dunno,” you shrug a shoulder, but you’re honest. What the fuck were you supposed to say to Eddie Munson anyway? He was intimidating as hell because he put himself in the spotlight like it was nothing. It isn’t like you hate attention, but too much makes you nauseous. “Thinking about getting one, I guess?”

“You guess?” His head tilts, causing his hair to cascade over his shoulder. Of course he would be defensive. Christina was just making fun of him less than an hour ago. 

“It’s- forget it,” you shake your head. You can’t believe you would trust your nasty, mean friends when they said he had a crush on you. 

Turning back to the front of the classroom, you wait painfully for the bell to ring, and once it does, the room fills quickly with slightly out of breath students. A couple of your teammates wave at you until you finally break and they gesture wildly, asking ‘what the fuck are you doing sitting next to him?’ All you can do is give an apologetic shrug and decide you’ll lie to them later and say it was the only seat you could find. They just roll their eyes and pull out their textbooks. 

“Five.” Eddie’s voice surprises you. 

Turning your head, you hope no one sees when you ask. “Did they hurt?”

“No, ‘course not.” He bites back a smile, trying to act all tough. 

“Liar.” Your nose scrunches and it makes him laugh at how cute it is. 

You don’t mean to, truly, but now you look out for Eddie in the halls, stare at him during class, and hope for one more conversation. One that’s less embarrassing, but you do hope. Despite your friend's relentless teasing after English class the other day, you give a small wave back anytime he gives you one. You never initiate first, too shy and afraid it’ll lead to more teasing. This way you can just say you’re being polite when you wave back and they see, but more often than not, they’re too caught up in their own little worlds. Even though you’re scared they’ll tease, you keep an eye out for him and you learn more than you ever knew before. He’s polite. He lets the cheerleaders walk ahead if they bump into each other at a corner in the hall. One arm is tucked behind his back as he sweeps the other out and he bows a little. They give him weird looks respectively, but he just smiles and moves on. He might joke around with his friends, but if you listen closely, you can hear the kindness and compliments hidden underneath the meaning of his words. The group is small, but he holds the same amount of care for each and every one of them. Including his ‘little sheepies’ which you don’t fully understand, but he used a lot of words you don’t understand, and you thought you were smart. After a little investigating, you learn some of them are made up, but you seem to like the fact that he’s nerdy and into this series called Lord of the Rings. 

You’re starting to like Eddie.

“Oh my God,” Christina moves in your line of sight, in front of him. You’d positioned yourself at the cafeteria table so you didn’t have to turn around to subtly watch him anymore. “Are you staring at the freaks?”

“Stop calling them that,” you roll your eyes. “You know I hate that.”

She crosses her arms defensively. “Just, you know, being honest. What’s so interesting about them anyway?”

“Nothing.” You mutter, going back to nibbling on the shitty cardboard pizza they served today. 

She turns around and gets the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen from her when her eyes connect with Eddie’s. 

“Holy shit. You’ve got a crush on The freak!”

“Christina!” You swat at her, but it’s too late. Everyone else at your table already heard and is staring at you incredulously. “I- I do not.”

“Puh-lease. You’ve been making googly eyes at him for weeks at this point!”

“It hasn’t been weeks,” you mutter under your breath.

“Ew!” Another one of the girls scrunches her nose and jabs a thumb in his direction. “Him?”

“Better be careful, Y/N,” another taunts. “Don’t wanna find you in the woods. I heard he, like, sacrificed a girl out there last year. No one’s heard from her since.”

“Oh my god, me too!” Christina pretends to look concerned. “You think that’s what happened to Nancy’s friend too? What was her name? Bev?”

“Didn’t he like…” the girl to your left leans in and stage whispers, but she could be heard from across the room if you listened hard enough. None of them understood the concept of speaking at a normal volume. “Bite a bat's head off?” 

“That was actually Ozzy Ozbourne!” Eddie leans so far back in the chair that the two front legs don’t touch the ground, one of his legs lifted so the bottom of his dirty Reebok’s supports his weight against the table. 

You’re mortified at the idea that Eddie has heard every single word, but he was at the other end of the long table today. 

“Ugh,” Christina rolls her eyes again before turning to face him. “As if we know that freak either!”

“Tina,” you hiss, not wanting to start a scene over this nonsense. 

“Whatever. You don’t have a crush.” She fully faces the table again and starts talking about the party at Jason’s after the game on Friday. 

You go to throw an apologetic look at Eddie, but find him missing from the table, and a couple of his friends send glares your way, making you shrink in shame. 

Eddie isn’t in English, or History, and you find out through the grapevine he skips the rest of the day entirely. It wasn’t uncommon for him to do, but you feel like it’s your fault. The days leading up to the party, he seems to avoid you, eyes darting away quickly and showing up late enough to class that it’s guaranteed there’s no free seats around you. Christina seems to take notice of your sour mood, but only asks once. You lie and say you’re fine, but you feel sick to your stomach. You never actively partook in the bullying, but you never stopped it either. 

The day of the game finally rolls around, filled with school spirit and a pep rally, but once again Eddie is nowhere to be found. Not that he’d ever attended a pep rally in his whole high school career, but you at least expected to spot him at lunch. He’s even absent from your shared classes. After school, you hang around in the parking lot, wasting time before you all have to go home and get ready for the game. You frown as you observe his friends, chatting away aimlessly and occasionally throwing candy around. They hang around what you think is Eddie’s van, but if he skipped all day, why would he be here now? 

“Hey,” Christina’s voice surprises you, quiet and genuine. “Just us girls… you have a crush on Munson?”

“I…” you trail off, surprised she isn’t faking her valley girl voice, and you feel like you can trust her once again since you met her two years ago. She wasn’t your first friend in Hawkins, but you had been close when you first joined the team. “I dunno. He’s actually kinda sweet. Maybe?”

“Seriously?” And then she guffaws, catching you off guard once more. “Ugh, grody! Guys, Y/N actually has a crush on Munson!”

“I- I didn’t say that!” You can’t believe Christina would do something like that. As you watch them all laugh and tease, you wonder when they all got so mean and why you started letting them get away with it. 

“You said maybe. That’s, like, totally a yes!”

“Like it’s such a bad thing to have a crush on me?” 

Everyone quiets as you slowly turn around to find Eddie standing there, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. 

“Eddie, I…” you aren’t even sure what to say as he glares down at you. 

“I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging around you, Munson.” Christina’s voice makes you squeeze your eyes shut in frustrated embarrassment. “Even your parents couldn’t stand to stay around. Must be hard having a cultist son. Fucking embarrassing.”

The lot gets so quiet, you can hear the grinding of his teeth as he sets his jaw. He doesn’t even dignify her with a response, turning and walking away before anyone can see the red staining his cheeks. 

“Tina… that was major harsh.” One of the girls breaks the silence. 

“Oh, eat my shorts, Janice. Are we getting ready at my house or not?” 

Everyone seems to hesitate but Christina was captain of the team. No one was going to say no. Well, no one but you. 

“I’ve, um, got a thing. I’ll meet you guys at the game.” You glance over toward Eddie, watching as he harshly shoves his shoulder back to avoid one of his friends' hands. 

You shouldn’t go to the game, but you do.

Janice called you from Christina’s house, sounding hopeful. You promised to be there, despite your whole body screaming at you to just stay home. Janice promises the whole thing will blow over by Monday, and something else will come along. But it won’t just blow over with Eddie. You know that. He had looked so hurt when you turned around to face him. In all the years of getting bullied, that was the first time he showed anyone what their words did to him. And it was your fault. 

You had promised Janice you’d be there, but when you stand outside the gymnasium, you can’t make yourself go in. Can’t make yourself face who you thought were your friends. So, you walk down a path between the large building and the school and take out a key. The pool was somewhat separated, but you could still hear the muffled band playing when you entered the echoey room. You keep a spare swimsuit in your locker for this exact situation. The sport helped clear your mind and you needed to get rid of the image of Eddie’s broken look.

You swim even after the cheering and the band stops. You swim until you feel like your limbs are going to fall off, and even though you don’t want to, you shower off the chlorine. As you step out into the somewhat cool autumn air, a double door bursts open, and the kids that come spilling out make you stop. 

His little sheepies. Which means… 

Fuck. 

Eddie is the last one out, smile so wide you can’t help but wonder if it hurts. They all talk over each other, but Eddie just seems to watch over in pride. You take a step back into the shadows, hoping your bright multicolored windbreaker doesn’t give you away. 

“Hey!” Is that… Steve Harrington? “You guys were supposed to be done an hour ago.”

“The campaign ends when it ends, Steve!” One of them retorts back. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t have all night Henderson. Let’s go!” 

All three freshmen rush to Steve’s BMW and scramble inside. He and Eddie share a nod before he gets in and peels out of the lot, and you can still hear all of them shouting in excitement. The other three seniors exchange goodbyes before parting ways, but Eddie sticks behind. Neither of you move until all the cars are gone except for his van and yours. Why the fuck hasn’t he moved? 

“Is it just you?” Eddie finally speaks, turning toward your piss poor excuse of a hiding spot. “Or is the rest of the team waiting somewhere?”

“I’m- I’m alone.” It scares you once you realize you’re the only two on the property. Probably the only two within a few miles at this point. “Look, I’m really sorry about them. Christina especially. I don’t know when she got so…”

“Bitchy?”

That makes you breathe out a laugh, not realizing you were holding your breath. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

It’s quiet for a moment as he shifts his weight to his other leg, observing you and the whole situation. 

“Do you want to sit by the pool and talk?” It’s starting to feel pretty creepy outside, and the cold night wasn’t helping your wet hair.

“I thought it was locked after hours.” 

You hold up the bronze key, but offer up an explanation anyway. “My uncle is actually the coach. He got me into swimming competitively in the first place. Technically I’m not allowed to bring friends in but…”

“Good thing I’m not really a friend.” He walks past you and you’re a bit frozen in place, not believing he accepted. 

You’re nervous as you unlock the door once more and wave him inside like he would but you give an awkward curtsy. As he’s turning in a small circle to take in how the water reflects off the walls and ceiling, you slip off your shoes and roll up your jeans as far as you can go. He begins to do the same when he sees you sticking your feet in the water. 

“Jesus Chri-! That’s cold!” His voice bounces off the walls, and your laughter follows. 

“Well, yeah, most pools are.” You tuck your hands underneath your thighs and move your right leg around in small circles, disrupting the water. “Didn’t see you at the game.” 

“That kind of stuff is bullshit. Forced conformity.” Before he goes on a rant, he looks at the sly smile on your face, as if you were going to enjoy this topic of conversation. But he knew you’d react either of two ways if he kept on. Confused, or freaked out. So he leans back on his palms and tries to act casual. “And if I’m guessing right, you weren’t there either.”

“Didn’t feel like it.” You give a halfhearted shrug. “Christina really… what she said about your parents— I just don’t see her the same anymore. I don’t know how it happened, but she just got so mean, and everyone’s too scared to say anything because she's the captain. Sorry, I’m- ranting.”

“Christina wasn’t far off.” 

The admission bounces around as you look at him.

“Eddie…”

“It was forever ago.” He kicks the water, causing a small splash. “Aren’t you co-captain anyway?”

“Yeah? So?” You didn’t think he would know that, and it makes you feel all mushy inside that he knows something so simple about you. 

“So don’t you have us much say as her?”

“With her tyrannical rule? No way.” 

“No shame in running, but sometimes you gotta be the hero.”

“Yeah,” you scoff. “I’m sure getting to Mordor would be easier than standing up to Christina.” 

“You’ve read…?”

“No.” That’s a half lie. “Well, sorta. I haven’t gotten very far. I don’t know if it’s my thing, but you talk about it so much, I wanted to check out all the hype.”

Eddie looks taken aback, mouth hung open. 

“Is that what dungeons and dragons is?” You ask curiously, which seems to take him back even more. “I mean everybody says it’s bad, but it’s just nerd shit, right? Sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“It is nerd shit.” He straightens his back at the new topic of conversation. “All it is, is tabletop fantasy role play. Doesn’t have to be like Lord of the Rings. You could have a whole western fantasy campaign. Maybe even in space.” He’s ranting, and god does he know it, but you lean in instead of awkwardly looking away like everyone else does.

“Campaign…?” 

“Well, it’s…” Eddie thinks for a moment before explaining in the most simple of terms how a campaign works. You nod along, enthralled by every detail, even when he derails and starts rambling about character class and stats. He rambles on about their current campaign to help explain better, and he uses silly voices and moves animatedly. You laugh, but not at him. He continues to tease, loving your laugh and that you aren’t making fun of him. His arms flail a bit and he gives a few teasing nudges, but in his excitement he forgets his strength. 

“Wait, Eddie-!” You fall in the water, grabbing on to him in an attempt to stop, but end up pulling him down with you. The both of you come up spluttering, but you end up laughing at the mop of hair on his head. 

“Shit,” he laughs nervously. “It’s deep.”

“Wait. Can you swim?”

“Well, I’m no athlete, but yeah. I can swim.” 

“Well…” you swim forward, a sly smile creeping its way onto your face. “Might as well, right? We’re already in here. You’ll want your jacket off, though. It’s gonna be too much dead weight.”

“Right, I’ll uh…”

“Here, I’ll keep us afloat while you get it off.” 

Before he can understand what’s happening, you wrap your arms around his waist, your face entirely too close to his. With what little space you have, you can see freckles splashing across his face, and you chew on the inside of your cheek to keep your composure. He avoids eye contact as he struggles out of the leather, the tip of his tongue making a surprise appearance, before tossing the jacket aside and it lands with a loud wet slap. 

“Cool. Now good luck catching me!” You splash him a little harsher than you had intended, but you make a dash to escape.

“You’re gonna regret that!” 

You’re a lot better at swimming than he is, almost too fast to be caught, but you slow down after awhile on purpose. As his hand wraps around your ankle, making you squeal, you tell yourself you did it to not wear him out and frustrate him. That you didn’t want to anger him, as he’s pulling you into him and dunking both of you under water. You struggle against his arms, but he’s strong. You can feel the unexpected muscle against your hands, but he lets you go too soon and you both come up gasping for air. 

“Told ya.” water sprays a bit from his mouth as his chest heaves. 

“You cheated.” 

“I never cheat, sweetheart.” He wades toward you slowly, dropping down just until his mouth sinks into the water. 

“Eddie Munson, don’t you dare,” you warn but your tone is too light. “You dunk me again, I’ll- I’ll make sure you smell like chlorine for a week.” 

He doesn’t listen, and you swim backward until your back crashes into the tiled wall. The cold sends a shiver down your spine. Definitely not the way Eddie comes back up, water dripping from his chin and his arms blocking you in on either side of you. His eyes drop to your lips and you find yourself breathing heavily for a completely different reason, your chest brushing against his with every inhale. Neither of you make a move, just admiring every detail you can while breathing each other's air. Just when you think he might, a loud bang comes from one of the locker rooms, making you both jump and look around frantically. You find yourself gripping one of his forearms tightly in shock. 

“We should- we should probably get out.” No one else had access to the pool except your uncle, but you doubted he would come by at midnight. He trusted you to not fool around, and you really hadn’t let him down until now. “I swear the locker rooms are haunted.” 

Still, you don’t move until he does, and swim to the nearest ladder to get out. The only sound is the water from your clothes dripping on the floor, and suddenly you feel exhausted. Your clothes feel heavy as they cling to your skin. Without discussing it, you both start peeling your clothes off, slightly turned away to give each other privacy. As you’re wringing out your shirt, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder at Eddie, and catch the way his shoulder blades move while he does the same. His eyes catch yours and you smile sheepishly before turning back around. You’re both down to your underwear, unsure of how to proceed. 

“We should shower. Alone I mean. You can go to the boys’. There’s towels.” You speed walk away, too self conscious to hang around too long. 

“Wait!” He follows you quickly, careful not to slip. “You’re just gonna drop the fact that the locker rooms are haunted and then leave me alone to fend for myself?”

Your footsteps slow, and you let out a small huff because you know you know you’ll feel guilty until the end of time if you do that to him. 

“There’s going to be rules, Munson.”

“Oh, of course.” He agrees quietly.

“We go in at the same time and undress fully in our own shower. You’re not to come out until I have, and even then, you’re not to look anywhere but your own shower. When I say it’s okay, you can leave, got it?”

“I think you forgot the part about the towels.”

“Do not make me regret this.” 

You’ve never been so self conscious showering until now. Even with a zero percent chance of Eddie seeing you naked, you worry, but you also think about the fact that he’s in the same exact state you’re in right now. That somehow makes the whole thing feel way too intimate, and you can’t believe the first time you got to hang out with your -possible- crush, you both end up naked. If that basic, no detailed rumor got out, you’d surely die of embarrassment. Turning around, you place your face underneath the stream of water, trying so hard to not think about the small glimpse of his torso that you got. The dark patch of hair sneaking underneath his boxers that clung to his thighs from the water. 

“So, are you from Hawkins?” His voice brings you out of your wandering thoughts. You quickly turn the knob from hot to cold in hopes that it keeps you calm.

“My parents are.” Looking down, you watch the water swirl around at your feet. “My grandmother got sick and my uncle couldn’t take care of her by himself. So, we packed up and moved back here, but I can tell my parents are happy to be back home. It’s less demanding than the city.”

“The uncle being coach thing makes a lot more sense now.”

“Not a lot of people know actually.” You turn the water off completely, and wrap your arms around your torso self consciously. “I’m getting out now.”

It isn’t the easiest topic of conversation, but when she had first gotten sick two years ago, your mother went to stay with her for the three months she had been told she would live. When it was clear she was going to hang on longer than expected, they decided it would just be better to move permanently and the old lady was still sticking around. Despite being so sick, you liked hanging out with her most afternoons. Even if she forgot who you were.

You carefully walk out of the shower, towel wrapped around yourself tightly, and as you pass by the stall that Eddie is in, you catch a glimpse in the crack between the curtain and wall. All you manage to catch is the back of his head, arms extended upward to wash out whatever shampoo you’d let him borrow. He begins to turn and you look away with your cheeks burning. You attempt to dry your hair underneath one of the hand dryers, and it isn't long when Eddie comes out, damp boxers back on and using the towel you gave him to rub his hair dry. He pauses seeing you kneeled down, holding the towel to your chest so that nothing gets exposed and he realizes he forgot to wait for your okay, but you don’t seem to mind as you give a soft smile. 

“I’ll grab our clothes.” He says when the dryer finally turns off and leaves you to get somewhat decent. 

He’s suddenly so quiet as he hands over your clothes, no witty comment or joke as the two of you get dressed. All there is between you are stolen glances and nervous smiles. Once fully clothed again, you walk beside him, feeling a little stiff. Not from how your cold clothes stick to you, but from nerves. The soft lights from the pool make his face glow, and your stomach drops in the best way possible. He gets the door for you, and waits with his hands stuffed in his jacket as you lock up. The grass crunches underneath your footsteps, dry from the temperature and lack of rain. Neither of you speak, until you hit the parking lot, cars too far from each other to continue walking together.

“Were they right?” You ask before he gets a chance to escape, arms anxiously crossed over your chest. “My friends. ‘Cause if they were… I think I have one too.”

“Have what?”

Shit. You were too vague.

“A crush, dummy.” 

Realization dawns on his face as he absorbs your confession. He can’t believe it, and the worst smallest part of him thinks you’ve done this whole thing as a joke, and someone is going to pop out with a camera to capture how big of an idiot he’s been. All that happens is you chew on your bottom lip, anxiously waiting for an answer, and he's leaving your heart out in the open for too long. 

“Yes, yeah, they were right.” He watches how you smile and takes a mental image to last forever. “I’m not really quiet about anything.” 

“I just never expected…” you shake your head and look at your feet. “You. You’ve just so suddenly become this big thing in my life.” 

Eddie barely has to take a step to be close enough to take your face in his hands and lift your head up to pull you into a searing kiss. It’s so unexpected that you laugh in surprise against his lips, but he smiles at the sound. When you’ve settled down, you move your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, eager to feel his heartbeat slow to match the rhythm of your own. He kisses you so sweetly, you really do think he’s a gentleman. A quick slip of his tongue doesn’t change your mind either.

“If you don’t stop me,” he gets out between kisses. “We’ll be here all night sweetheart.”

“I like that idea,” you tease as his lips move along your jawline, and down your neck. Your eyelids flutter closed, and you focus on every feeling.

Eddie pulls back, showing some self restraint and you almost whine at the loss of contact.

“You’re gonna get a cold if you stay out here.”

“So will you!”

“I’m going to walk you to your car, and you’re going to go home and get all snuggled in bed, okay?” He traces your bottom lip with his thumb, the ghost of a smile ever present.

“Fine.”

Eddie takes your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and walks the short distance to your car. You make no move to enter, back pressed against the driver side door, and grab him by his jacket. He braces himself with one arm, looking down at you, his other hand stroking your cheek with the back of his pointer finger. The featherlight touch makes you shiver, and you find yourself getting lost in his almost pitch black eyes. Those eyes that are so beautiful and full of lashes, that a cow would be jealous. You pull him in for another kiss, arms wrapping underneath his jacket and around his small waist. He groans into your mouth, not wanting to leave if you were going to kiss him slowly like that.

“I’m personally thanking Christina on Monday.” He gives your knuckles a quick kiss before taking a few steps backwards, not wanting to look away, and turning for his own vehicle.

Christina’s head almost explodes when he does exactly that and plants a kiss on your lips in the cafeteria, but you just act innocent when you take his outstretched hand and move to sit with him at his table. It felt good, and it felt even better when you give her the finger when she wouldn’t stop staring.

[jaysng]

🫐 - jake! maybe about reader having some hardships during her pregnancy but baby daddy jake would be ready to do anything for her comfort !!

rejecting his kisses | sjy

pairing: husband!jake x wife!reader

genre: fluff bro what else i write 😭😭

synopsis: reader is growing sensitive day by day to touches and snaps at jake, jake being a mature husband handles the situation well.

everything felt so much more overwhelming, jake kept a family dinner and everyone was over, his members and his family. 

“how are my babies doing?” jake said as he nuzzled his nose in your neck as you moved back in annoyance. 

oh he noticed it but shrugged it off, maybe it was just a silly reaction right?

the sound of everyone talking at the same time in their own conversation rings around in your ears making it hard for you to keep up with everything jake had his hands on you the whole day, hugging you from behind, talking to his friends and family with a hand on your bump, rubbing your nose agaisnt his, kissing your cheeks, lips and forehead. yeah sounds cute but not when you’re feeling everything a little too much. 

what is going on. 

it was so bad that you had to shut your room door so loud and settle on the bed, 

there you were, pregnant and finally on your thrid trimester with your annoying husband being extra touchy anywhere he could find you at.

rubbing your temples you sat on the bed, grabbed the water from the beside table and starting chugging it down. 

meanwhile, jake who already spotted your absensce in the living room came in “bub?” you heard his voice and your brain gave a reaction not again. 

he walks in as you don’t even dare to look at him in the eye, your eyes closed as you take deep breath. 

“did i do something” he leans over to your face while staring deep “no..” u say as he hums in question he sits beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder “are you oka-“ you cut him off,

“no- just no- please okay? please just get your hands off of me please jake. stay away from me i am not feeling all your touches just leave me the fuck alone.” you say raising your voice. 

the next thing you see is tears in jake’s eyes as he looks away from you trying to hold them in. 

“i am sorry.” 

a moment of complete silence goes by as you rest your head on the headboard.

you notice him avoiding your looks and turning to the other side, hesitant to ask you if you need anything again.

“did i do something wrong?” he asks out of curiosity “i won’t touch you if—“

“no i dont know.. i am sorry i dont feel like getting touched i dont know.. i don’t know why i am being like this i don’t know” as you’re saying he turns around and comes closer to you.

attentively listening as he brings a hand to tug your hair strand back.

“hey no no it’s fine, its completely fine yeah, this is super normal for pregnant women to feel..” he says as tears start spilling from your eyes because of how understanding he is. 

jake has always put your perspective before his, always understanding everything you did, always finding a reason for your actions and letting you express yourself, god you think what did you do to deserve him. 

“b-but jake” you say as he holds your face in his hands and squishes your cheeks trying to calm you down.

“at this stage you’ve grown more sensitive. to touches to words to noises to everything” he says bringing his hands back to himself, “isn’t it?” 

you nod in agreement as he adds “so don’t ever blame yourself about all this okay? i love you just how it is. nothing will ever change that” 

you look at him and take his hand and place it on your belly, he makes sure to keep it exactly where you kept and not rub it because of muscle memory 

he pauses and lets out a little laugh as he feels the baby kicking where his arm is placed “just try not to be as aggressive as you were okay?” you nod once again as he kisses your cheeks wiping your tears off his lips. 

“baby doesn’t like hearing mum and dad argue does it?” he says as he feels another kick to his palm as you both laugh out of surprise. 

it makes you giggle, mood swings are crazy.

[0310s]

wiping something off their lips (leehan ver.) 𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆

members: boynextdoor legal line x gender neutral reader

genre: college! au, fluff, friends to lovers, they have a crush on u waaah >_<!!!, a little angst, leehan cries ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა but it’ll be ok i promise!!!

wc: 3.3k

a/n: something came over me and i had to write this immediately. leehan is so dear to me! let me know your thoughts <3

𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆

Leehan is neat eater #2 (Neat eater #1: Sungho). While he’s not as conscious as Sungho, he’s just the type that doesn’t make a mess because he’s a slow eater. But seeing you baby Jaehyun all the time makes him want you to do the same for him. 

You’re hanging out with both Leehan and Jaehyun at a diner, with you and Jaehyun seated beside each other and Leehan opposite you both. While Leehan leisurely chews on his fries, Jaehyun’s devouring his burger so eagerly it’s worrying. He gets sauce all over his lips in the process. You’re trying to stifle your laugh at his enthusiasm but ultimately fail to keep it in—your cute giggles make Leehan’s heart beat faster, although he can’t figure out why that exactly is. Still, he stores this memory of your laugh away in his mind, just like he’s mentally catalogued bits and pieces of your personality and interests over the course of your friendship—in a totally platonic manner, of course. If you could consider having an entire library in his brain of everything about you platonic.

Moreover, Leehan’s never thought himself to be a possessive person, but when you poke Jaehyun and start dabbing at his lips with a tissue once he faces you, he feels a smidge resentful at how Jaehyun just lets you go all up in his personal space. You’re both laughing now as Jaehyun jokingly bats away your attempts to baby him; still, you persist and finally remove all the sauce off his mouth. To onlookers, you and Jaehyun must probably look like a couple, while Leehan is just your friend that’s tagged along for the ride. Was it normal to be jealous as a friend? He doesn’t know. 

“Leehan, what’s going on in your head? You got all quiet of a sudden,” Jaehyun calls him. You’re looking at him worriedly too, and Leehan secretly relishes in your attention, feeling like a little schoolboy being patted on the head by his favorite teacher.

He stares at the condensation forming on his glass of cold water, watches the droplets slide down to the surface of the table, and forces himself to take a steady breath. “It’s nothing,” he promises. “Just spacing out. What were we talking about?”

𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆ 

The week later, you and Leehan spend the afternoon at the same diner. Jaehyun gets called to take an emergency shift at the convenience store, so it’s just the two of you now. You enter the booth first, and as Leehan moves to take the opposite seat, you tug at his jacket and happily pat at the empty space beside you. Hiding a shy smile, he slides in beside you. You then recite your orders to the waiter; you opt for a cheeseburger and fries, while Leehan’s in the mood for a milkshake. You eye Leehan’s choice of meal in trepidation, and right before the waiter leaves, you order another cheeseburger. “A milkshake isn’t lunch, Leehan. And I know you’re going to get hungry later—you always do. So eat this burger, alright?”

“Alright,” Leehan replies, head lowered to conceal how the corners of his lips curve up. He has no idea why the simple act of you ordering food for him has him flustered like this. Even as you gently reprimand him, he feels babied… in a good way? Like someone pays attention to him and cares enough to look after him. He likes when it’s you who does this out of everyone else.

You make small talk while the food is being prepared, and Leehan basks in your presence and energy. He’s always felt at ease with you, hasn’t he? You let him share marine life facts for hours on end without expressing any sort of annoyance, and he knows you’re listening by the way you chime in to clarify things he’s said or to ask questions of your own. When he shares his hobbies and interests with you, you’re there to support him. When he makes silly jokes, you always match his humor. And he gets a fluttery feeling in his heart when you rely on him too—every time you open up to him about what makes you happy, excited, scared, or sad, he feels content to intimately know another part of you. Leehan wants to know everything about you, no matter how long that takes. Maybe he just wants to be closer to you… as a best friend? Is he feeling all these things for you because he wants to be your closest friend?

He’s snapped out of his reverie when the server arrives with your food. “Eat,” you instruct, as you push the extra cheeseburger towards him. Leehan obediently takes a bite of his burger, following it up with a sip of his milkshake. Some of the whipped cream decorating the drink gets on his lips, but he doesn’t care because of the sheer joy he feels being seated beside you. So when Leehan’s in the middle of narrating a video about deep sea exploration discoveries, you interrupt him with a thumb to his lips. He trails off in stunned silence as you swipe once at his bottom lip. It’s only a couple of seconds, but it feels like eternity to him as he takes in your focused eyes, soft cheeks, and pouty mouth. 

When you turn back to your food like nothing’s happened, Leehan can feel his ears heat up, and he’s never been more grateful that he’s kept his hair this long. Clearing his throat, he takes another bite of his burger. As you talk and he eats, a plan formulates itself in Leehan’s brain. He wants all your attention on him again, wants your soft and gentle touch—but how can he do that without making it too obvious?

When he looks down at his drink, he’s found the answer.

The next time you glance at Leehan, he’s got whipped cream on his lips once again. You don’t think he knows because he’s continued recounting the details of the deep sea documentary to you and how the researchers managed to collect information from such depths. Laughing under your breath, you rub at the corner of his mouth again. Leehan stills when you do so, thanks you kindly, then proceeds to elaborate on the new species these scientists have identified. 

Over the next hour you spend in the diner, Leehan manages to get cream on his lips for a total of five more times. You don’t mind at all because you find it really adorable, given he’s rarely clumsy like this; you also love doting on him. The tiny smiles he sends your way when you wipe off the messes warms your heart even more. You’ve always found Leehan cute. Of course you can find your friends cute, no big deal. Right?

𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆ 

When your friend group finally has the time to meet up after weeks of conflicting schedules, you find yourselves at your regular hangout place once again for dinner: the diner. You’re escorted to one of the bigger booths, where a singular, long leather bench winds around a large table. Here, you’re squeezed in between Leehan and Jaehyun. Jaehyun and Woonhak are loudly complaining about their final requirements, while Taesan and Riwoo speak in measured tones about their plans for the semestral break. You zone in on Jaehyun and Woonhak’s conversation, drawn in by their energetic storytelling.

When your food is served, Leehan is handed a burger he didn’t ask for. You’ve ordered him a cheeseburger again. You know him too well—he’s only gotten the same milkshake as the last time you two were here together. Still, as Leehan’s about to thank you, he finds that your back is angled away from him. You’re in the middle of a lengthy conversation with Jaehyun, whose loud and grating laughter bothers him. Then he pouts, silently sulking because he doesn’t have your undivided attention. Haven’t you guys been talking for ten minutes straight already? Have you forgotten he’s right beside you?

He thinks he’s concealed his emotions perfectly but fails to catch how Taesan and Riwoo share a knowing look at the spectacle in front of them. They’re both shaking their heads at their friend’s obliviousness. But all Leehan’s focused on is bringing (y/n)’s focus back on him. “(Y/n),” Leehan calls from beside you and taps your shoulder. “(Y/n).” 

“Yeah, what’s up?” you question. When you turn back, Leehan’s got cream on his lips again. He’s quietly waiting for you to wipe it off, and it makes you a little (just a little!!!) pleased that he waited for you especially to help him out. “Oh! Come here, Leehan.” 

“They’re both idiots,” Taesan sighs into Riwoo’s ear as you dab at Leehan’s lips with a tissue, both of you in your own little world. Leehan’s watching you fondly, while your own cheeks are red with shyness. Riwoo can’t agree more. When you finish wiping Leehan’s mouth and return to your conversation with Jaehyun, Leehan subtly pumps his fist at how he was effective in making you notice him—

Then finds his friends staring right at him. Taesan and Riwoo look like they’re about to burst into laughter. He freezes, cheeks burning red as he gets caught in this admittedly juvenile act. Taesan’s about to open his mouth when Leehan shakes his head. Please don’t, he mouths. Taesan shrugs and mouths back, Are you confessing anytime soon? Which—well—what exactly does he mean by that? Confessing? Romantic feelings? Him? To you? What? Taesan? What?

Leehan’s existential crisis is clear to the two of them as his eyes are blown wide open, the wheels visibly turning in his head as he comes to a realization. Understanding dawns upon Riwoo, who nudges his friend beside him. “Taesan… I don’t think he knows he has a crush on them.”

“Yeah, I’m just registering that now,” Taesan hisses back, highly entertained by all this, but also wondering what Leehan’s next move will be. 

You’re oblivious to all this happening in the background, still absorbed in your conversation with Jaehyun and Woonhak about your busy schedules. Like always, Jaehyun makes a mess of himself as he drops a piece of juicy burger meat on his shirt. “Nooo, my favorite shirt!” he wails, and of course, you—kind, lovely, beautiful you—come to the rescue. Leehan sullenly glowers as you wet some tissue and pat at Jaehyun’s chest repeatedly. You’re so close to Jaehyun you could already be hugging. And Woonhak, who’s glancing back and forth at the three of you, finally reads the room and goes silent. Locking eyes with both Taesan and Riwoo, he mouths, What the heck, and the two respond with matching shrugs. 

𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆ 

“(Y/n), can we talk?” Leehan catches up to you as you exit the diner. The rest of the group have gone their own ways, citing their needs to catch up on homework and sleep. Woonhak, Taesan, and Riwoo drag Jaehyun away with them despite his incessant complaints of wanting to hang out with you more. Weird, you think, but nothing too worrisome, I hope.

“Sure! What’s going on?” Leehan seems troubled with the way he hesitantly makes his way over to your side as you both sit down on the benches outside the diner. There’s a considerable amount of space between you two—around two or three more people could fit. Which is odd—Leehan seemed so comfortable earlier, even as your shoulders incidentally brushed against each other in the diner.

“I…” Leehan starts but trails off. He seems unsure of himself, so you urge him to take his time. You have no idea what this is about, but you’re definitely worried. You’ve never seen Leehan this uneasy.

In the end, Leehan seems to be unable to muster up the courage to open up to you about his problem. “Nevermind,” he sighs. “It’s not that important…”

At this exact moment, your phone rings. “Sorry, give me a moment.” You hold a finger up, checking your phone. It’s Taesan—maybe he’s forgotten to tell you something, or maybe he’s left something at the diner? You hit answer. “Taesan?” You don’t catch sight of Leehan’s face paling at the mention of your friend’s name. 

“(Y/n), think about it. Do you think Leehan’s really that messy?—” Taesan manages to yell into the phone before it’s snatched up by Leehan, who swiftly ends the call. He’s not looking at you, but you spot his hands slightly tremble. What did Taesan mean by that? 

“What… What did Taesan say?” Leehan pries in a very small voice, at contrast with his hand grasping at your phone so tightly that his knuckles are becoming a ghastly shade of white.

You want your phone back first. “Leehan, my phone, please?” 

“Oh. Sorry.” Leehan passes it back to you, and his hands fist at his pants instead, tightening then letting go, almost like a pattern to soothe himself. 

“Well, Taesan told me to think about you being messy, which I don’t really get…?” You begin, trying to process the last two minutes or so. “What did he mean by that? You, messy?” You wrack your brain for an explanation—then you suddenly recall the other week you two met, when you wiped whipped cream off Leehan’s mouth multiple times. And just awhile ago, when Leehan waited for you to clean him up.

You have an inkling as to what this is about, but you want to really, really make sure it’s not just a product of your wishful thinking. “I could be wrong, but is Taesan talking about when you had whipped cream on your lips awhile ago?”

“Um… It’s nothing, really.” Leehan’s withdrawn into himself. It seems like he’s not going to give the acknowlegement you want, but you badly need to know the truth for the sake of your sanity. Like a godsend, your phone screen flashes with Taesan’s name again, and you answer as fast as you can, shielding yourself from Leehan’s attempts to steal your device. As you both struggle on the bench, you accidentally hit speakerphone —

“He put that cream on his lips on purpose while you weren’t looking!” Taesan’s voice rings out, then he hangs up. Then, you slowly glimpse at Leehan from your entangled position; his arms cage you on both sides of your head as he shadows you, your fronts almost pressing together if not for the hands you have clutched around your phone. You get to witness in real time how his face reddens in shame. His throat bobs and your eyes unconsciously follow the line of his neck to where his collarbones disappear under his shirt. 

Wait, you can’t afford to be distracted right now! “Leehan? What Taesan said… is that true? For today and last time?”

After a moment of silence, Leehan nods, letting out a shaky exhale, and you can feel his warm breath on your mouth. Upon realizing how close you both are, he quickly leans back and faces straight ahead, obstructing your gaze by placing an arm over his face. Despite that, his bright red cheeks are evident. You can feel your cheeks burn similarly as you process the implications of his actions.

“So, let me get this right. You intentionally put whipped cream on your li-lips so I could wipe it off you? Because you…?”

“Don’t make me say it… I’m really embarrassed now,” Leehan whines from behind his arm. “You already know what it means.”

You don’t care—you want to hear it straight from him. “No, tell me, I really don’t know,” you insist, yanking his arm down and smushing his cheeks in your palms so he can’t look anywhere except at you. Leehan’s eyes are wide and pitiful, but even as your heart clenches in guilt for what you’re putting him through, you force yourself to stay strong.

After a moment of silence as Leehan figures he can’t escape from your grasp, he starts speaking. “At-At first, I thought I just wanted us to be closer friends… But today made me understand that I-I actually want more than that with. With you.” Your heart pounds in your chest as Leehan finally admits, “I… like you. As more than a friend.” The more Leehan speaks, the more realization starts to dawn on you about your own feelings towards him. Then he starts sniffling, tears forming in his pretty doe eyes, and your heart drops to your stomach. 

“No, no, baby, why are you crying?” You feel like the worst person ever to exist as tears fall down Leehan’s face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” You wrap your arms around him, and he clutches at your shirt as his little sobs resume, his face tucked into your shoulder. You just hold him and apologize a thousand times as his cries subside. Eventually, he peeks up at you, eyes still watery, and you guiltily wipe the stray tears that make their way down his pretty face—of course he’s breathtaking, even when he cries. “I’m sorry, Leehan, I’m a terrible person for making you confess even when you didn’t want to.”

“Not your fault,” Leehan mumbles, “Wanted to be honest with you. Just didn’t expect to tell you this soon. I feel… overwhelmed.”

“This soon? Overwhelmed?”

At this, Leehan lets out a little sigh. “Just found out about my feelings at the diner. I thought they were platonic, but when I really thought about why I was so desperate to get your attention… it was because I wished you would look at me like that all the time and I wanted to be your priority. Romantically. But now looking back at how I tried to get your attention, I just feel like an immature kid now,” he laughs self-deprecatingly. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. You probably don’t even want that from me…”

Before you can even say anything, Leehan seems to steel himself, disentangling himself from you and looking at you directly. “I like you, but I don’t want us to be awkward now that you know… I can keep my distance until you decide whether you want us to still be friends or not. I want to remain friends, but if you’re uncomfortable with that, just let me know… I promise I’ll step back.” Seeing how considerate Leehan is of your feelings sends a pang of affection through you, and you muster up the courage to be honest yourself.

“Leehan… While you were telling me about all this, I may have just realized that… I like you too. Romantically,” you add, seeing Leehan’s expression change from one of shock into one of tentative hope. “I thought I cared for you as a friend, but it made me happy when you relied on me. I don’t know if it’s selfish of me, but I wanted myself to be the first person you asked for help from. So everytime you wanted me to wipe your lips, it honestly made me really giddy. But Leehan, you don’t have to do that to get my attention… you’ve already had it ever since. And always,” you finish, your cheeks turning an impressive scarlet at your own bold declaration.

Leehan eyes are sparkling right now, and you almost melt (in a good way, the one that makes your insides feel all gooey) from the weight of his attention. “...Really?” he presses. You nod. “Really really?” You nod again. “Really really really? You’re sure? No takebacks?” His thinly veiled enthusiasm makes you giggle, and you agree for the third time.

“Yes, Leehan, I’m sure.” This time, your heart beats rapidly not out of anxiety, but of anticipation. “So… I hope it’s not too early for me to ask, but… do you want to be my boyfriend?”

“Yes, yes, I’m yours,” Leehan beams so hard his eyes turn into little crescents and his dimples start showing. “You’re mine too, right?”

“I am.”

𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆

taglist: @kirbyyluvs

[kazuhaiku]

love is the warmest color

summary: scaramouche finds love in you.

warnings: gn!reader, spoilers for a bit of scaramouche's storyline, fluff, really mild angst (almost non-existent)

notes: scaramouche oh how i love you so very much

scaramouche is used to people leaving him during the moments when he needs them the most. considering that his own creator has abandoned him due to her seeing no worth in him, he has always been cautious when creating new relationships with people.

however, that somewhat changed when he used the irminsul to wipe everyone’s memories of him, allowing him to create new and fresh memories, starting from being a student in the akademiya, which is where he first met you and formed a relationship with you.

“y/n can you hurry up?” scaramouche’s annoyed voice echoes in the empty classroom. “we’re going to be late!”

“shut up! i can’t find my pencil!” you exclaim, seeing scaramouche stand in the doorframe with a frown on his face. “can you at least help me look for it?”

“no,” scaramouche says almost instantly. “it’s your pencil, not mine. why do i have to be the one looking for it?”

“it’ll be quicker when you help me! you told me we’re running late for our next class, right?” you beg. scaramouche groans but walks up to your table, searching for the pencil with you.

“why are we searching for a stupid pencil anyway?” scaramouche asks, looking under your desk. “it’s just a pencil. we can always go buy another one after class ends.”

you gasp, almost as if you’re offended he said that. “how could you call it a ‘stupid pencil’?! you’re the one who gave it to me, remember? on the first day of class?”

scaramouche’s eyes widen, remembering the little gift he prepared for you on your first day as an akademiya student. it wasn’t even a serious gift, he thought it was quite silly in fact. 

a pencil as a gift? surely you won’t treasure it that much. he thought to himself, but oh how wrong he was.

“you-” scaramouche stutters. “you kept that piece of junk?”

“don’t say that!” you slap his arm, hearing him hiss out an ‘ouch!’. “it’s precious to me, okay? that’s the only gift i’ve ever gotten from you!”

scaramouche pauses. seeing you frantically look around for a mere pencil made him feel guilty. has he never gotten you any other presents besides the pencil? you have been dating him for almost two months now and a pencil is what he gifts you? so, instead of continuing to look for the pencil, scaramouche taps you on your shoulder. “hey um,” he suddenly feels embarrassed seeing your eyes focus on him. “we can go buy another pencil. it’s not like it’s the end of the world losing it.”

“but-”

“i’ll buy you more gifts in the future,” he continues, not letting you speak a single word. scaramouche’s cheeks turn red. “so stop crying over a stupid pencil and let me give you another gift.” you stare at him for five seconds before laughing. scaramouche’s head turns towards you, a scowl on his face. “wha- stop laughing! why are you laughing?!”

“sorry it’s just-” you giggle. “i didn’t expect you to be so… kind? i don’t even know the word for it.” you wipe a stray tear from your eye. “okay, i’ll stop looking for the pencil if it will make you happy. let’s go out on a date after school!”

scaramouche choked on his own spit. “h-huh?! why today? we have so many assignments due tomorrow!”

“aw, since when were you so diligent in assignments?” you tease, pinching scaramouche’s cheeks. “you said you’ll get me a gift, right? why don’t we get one today?”

“huh?! since when were people able to choose a date for receiving a gift?” scaramouche frowns. “i am not going to buy you a gift today. it’ll ruin the element of surprise.”

“so we’re still going on a date today?” you ask excitedly. “yay! thank you, scara!” you give him a kiss on his cheek, catching him off guard. “come on, let’s get to class! the sooner we get there the faster we finish.”

later when you and scaramouche are working on assignments in a nearby cafe, you find the pencil you have been looking for in the bottom of your bag, covered by the mess inside your bag (to which scaramouche berates you for, saying you’re not good at taking care of your items).

[deadghosy]

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Because, you’re the only one who stayed with me.”

LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X GN! READER

FLUFF❤️/ SLIGHT SUGGESTIVE/ BAD GRAMMAR

YOU WOKE UP in bed with Lucifer as you found the king of hell holding you close to his body as soft breathing was heard of the sleeping king. You stretched a little not wake up Lucifer as he mumbles in his sleep, “stay…with me…I need you…” the mumbles were cute as you smile at him softly.

You turn into a black vapor over to the side of the bed to stretch your wings and body. You are still pretty much tired but you have to go meet Charlie since you told her you would be there quick. You walk to the bathroom to get out of this cute cunty vibe robe without knowing that Lucifer woke up not feeling your body.

Lucifer touched the spot you were only to have tears in his eyes.

Did he dream of you being by him?

if so what was the dream so long. He misses you already like an abandoned puppy. He didn’t know if it was real or not as he lays on his stomach facing nothing, only the headboard of this bed you slept on with him. He wipes his eyes as he looked at his hand, his eyes widen to have seen the duck ring.

So it was real…

He was stock to say that you actually did stay with him that day as he blushes kissing the ring. He’s hate to admit it, but this could be the wedding ring of both of you and him if he decides to have balls and ask you. His thoughts stop as he hears the bathroom door open to see you exiting wearing his color scheme on an outfit that was quite formal.

“Good morning Luci.” You said with a smile as your voice was like honey to him and he was the bear. He loved your voice even if you didn’t think your voice was special. He smiled at you as he walks over and hugs you, nuzzling his apple like scent all over you as you just smile patting his back.

“Good morning my angel!” He said as he lifts you up with ease as you grip his shoulders. You were shocked to say that Lucifer never did this to you before. But he must be in a good mood to have done this. You just smile at him as he Carries you to the kitchen with a soft hum. As he hums you smile just getting use to his presence as it been so long you two masked in each other. He sits you down on one of the dining chairs as he goes to make pancakes.

You remember how he use to make pancakes with Charlie and you. It was such a lovable memory in your head as you check your phone to see Angel dust worried about you with 16 messages and 20 missed calls. Charlie called you 1 time and left 27 messages. Alastor left you 1 message as vaggie has send you 12 messages. Man your friends had missed you.

Lucifer broke your train of thought with his famous pancakes as he smiles that toothy charming smile everyone knows and love. He kisses your forehead showing you this new affection that was brought upon the two of you last night.

You both ate in comfortable peace as you two share a piece of bacon and just chatter about today and what will tomorrow bring. You could’ve sworn he kept staring at your neck as you just glanced away from him awkwardly as you look at you watch.

“Ah man..I gotta do Lu.” You said as you got up. Lucifer also got up in a hurry thinking of how to keep you here longer. But he knew he couldn’t as his daughter depends on you too…so it sucks as he nods with a frown. He goes over to you and smiles, “okay. Just be safe on the way out.”

You chuckled at that as you just nod and hold his arm, he looks at his arm as he kisses your hand up and then he kisses you on your lips. Making you surprised, your eyes widened but soon fell into the kiss as he puts his hands on your waist and you put your arms around his neck with a flustered face. He lifted you as you wrap your legs around his waist as he leaves your mouth and go down to your neck, nibbling and biting as he licks your neck up and down.

He couldn’t help himself but feel to claim you somehow as he places you on the dinning table of the kitchen. He kept biting as you wince gripping his shoulder. He bit you so hard you bleed without noticing, but he notice. He licked your neck, cleaning of the blood as he slightly whimpers looking up at you with his demonic red eyes.

“Did a kiss really get him that excited?” You thought as you lift his chin only for him to purr and move closer to kiss you more to the point you both won’t take it.

But you still had to help Charlie, so you push Lucifer’s head away with a smile. “Ah ah, can’t do that sir. I have to do tend to your daughter now. I’ll be back soon Lu-Lu.” With a final kiss to his eye with he whimpered rubbing his face on your neck. You got off the table dusting yourself and wiping the left over saliva from Lucifer on your neck. “Love you.” You said as you left the palace.

Lucifer stands there alone with his demon tail wagging with a derpy smile as he just excitedly.

“YES! THEY SAY THEY LOVE ME!! THEY’RE FINALLY MINE! TAKE THAT DEPRESSION!”

—

TIME AS PASSED as you check your phone to see love messages with hearts on them from Lucifer. This man is certainly high off your kisses from earlier as he is literally kicking his feet on his bed thinking of you. But you wanted to say something about the kiss so you started to text him.

Lucifer saw your text bubble as he brought his phone close to his face with a wide smile to see your text. This boy is whipped badly as he smiles waiting.

“Why did you kiss me?” You had asked over text as Lucifer stops smiling thinking of the most realistic answer ever as he nods and texted you back with a smug face.

“Because, you’re the only one who stayed with me.” He texted back with a flushed expression.

After that, you two started to text everyday. Sending love messages and everything to check up one and another.

Lucifer was finally happy.

[amuseoffyre]

I’ve seen a lot of posts about Az being controlled by the Metatron but I don’t buy it. 

I'm fully on board with Aziraphale making stupid decisions for what he believes is the greater good. We've had evidence time and again of him wanting to get Crowley back on the side of angels so he'll be safe. "they'll destroy you"/"they'll kill you" was his biggest fear all through S1 and that fear hasn't gone away, especially now the neutrality protection has gone from the bookshop and Heaven and Hell can both get in.

You'll notice he said "I don't want to go back to heaven" until the moment the Metatron tells him that it means he could guarantee Crowley's sanctuary and safety. And this is not ten minutes after the rest of heaven's archangels were planning on wiping Aziraphale completely from the book of life and leaving Crowley alone? The Metatron didn't have to threaten Crowley. The threat has always always been there. Aziraphale didn't choose death because he's predictable.

Trouble is that the Metatron knew Crowley wouldn't want it (he's always been an independent one, going his own way, asking questions) and is using this as something to drive a wedge between them. Because the Metatron fully admitted that "we've kept track of your history" and as Gabe said re. Armageddon "at least we know who's fault it was" that it stopped.

Together, Crowley and Aziraphale have stymied Heaven more than once. Together, they produced a miracle that exceeded the power of the Supreme Archangel and could raise the dead 25-fold. Together, their interference/cock-ups led to the failure of Armageddon and Heaven doesn’t want to risk that when they’re working up to the big one, The Second Coming.

They know Aziraphale and Crowley together would be a liability. They needed them separated by whatever means and they have it. They knew Aziraphale would want to do good - everyone knows Aziraphale is a good guy. Even Gabriel, when his memory was gone, went straight to Aziraphale because he instinctively knew this is someone who would protect him. And everyone knows that Crowley is the rogue angel. The Metatron clearly knew him and described him as someone “who always wants to go his own way”.

The Metatron played on both their fears. He also played on Aziraphale’s belief that Heaven can still be good: he came in just in time to save him from erasure from the book of life, he implied that he’s much more like Aziraphale by bringing him nice sweet things and encouraging him to imbibe them, he offered safety and protection for Crowley to keep him out of harms way. But simultaneously, he slammed Crowley’s big red horror button at the idea of being under Heaven’s thumb again. He knew exactly what he was doing.

TLDR: Aziraphale did what he always did. He's a guardian. He's doing what he feels he needs to in order to keep people safe. And Crowley did what he always did by rejecting Heaven. The Metatron used that and pressed his and Crowley's buttons to make sure he split up the dream team to make sure the next Armageddon isn't interrupted by their interference.