#and he finally lets himself be a kid again

[jellofish-plant]

Sleep is Safer With You

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Genre: Hurt/Comfort | Fluff | Angst (Soft) Setting: Gotham City, Jason’s apartment | Post-patrol night

[Masterlist]

A/N: I decided to write a fanfic about the headcanons post

The door creaked open sometime after 3AM. You didn’t need to check the clock you’d been half-awake, waiting for him. You didn’t even flinch when the heavy boots were kicked off with a thud, followed by the soft clatter of armor hitting the floor.

Jason moved quietly when he could help it, but you could hear it in his movements tonight the exhaustion, the pain, the kind of silence that didn’t mean peace.

You kept your eyes closed as he padded into the bedroom, hoping he’d feel like he could melt into the quiet, not explain himself. The mattress dipped under his weight a moment later. A long breath left him. And then his arm slid around your waist. Carefully. Almost cautiously.

You turned in his hold without a word, resting your forehead against his chest.

He was warm. So much warmer than he had any right to be. You could smell the leather and gunpowder still clinging to his skin, but underneath it, there was the familiar scent of home.

Jason let out a low sigh, burying his nose into your hair.

“Sorry I woke you,” he mumbled, voice rough and quiet.

“You didn’t.” Your arms circled around his torso. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer right away. That silence said more than words could.

You leaned back just enough to look at him, your hand coming up to brush the sweat-matted hair from his forehead. There was a new bruise blooming across his jaw, and a cut on his lip that had only half-scabbed over. But his eyes that unreadable storm of guilt and longing they were fixed on you like you were the only steady thing left in the world.

“I saw a kid tonight,” he finally said, voice low. “Looked like me. Back then. Before… all of it.”

Your thumb stroked a slow line down his cheek.

“I got him out. Safe. But…” He trailed off, eyes fluttering shut. “I can’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if I was just a second too late.”

You shifted, pulling him closer, until his head rested on your chest and your fingers wove through his hair.

“You weren’t too late,” you whispered. “You were right on time.”

His breath stuttered against you. “I don’t know how you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make me feel like it’s okay to sleep. Like I won’t wake up and everything’s gone again.”

You didn’t have an answer for that. You just held him tighter.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. Eventually, you felt the tension bleed from his body. His breathing evened out, soft and steady against your collarbone. Your fingertips traced light patterns along his spine, and you pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Sleep is safer with you,” he’d once told you. And now, with him curled around you, vulnerable in a way he’d never show the world, you finally understood what he meant.

Tag list:

@dreamzaremyrealityy

@not-herexo 

@a-brilliante-mariposa

@fandomtrashsblog

[setmeatopthepyre]

Since you asked:

BT - Having their hair washed by the other 😘

okay so. I didn't actually get to the hair washing but. it is mentioned? oops. set post-8x15 in some nebulous near-future after Buck gets injured (how? who knows. who cares!) so heads up for spoilers and references to events in 8x11 and 8x15.

[bucktommy | 1043 words | spoilers for 8x11 and 8x15]

-

“My hair feels gross,” Evan groans, wincing as he runs the fingers of his left hand through his - definitely greasy - curls.

“Good morning to you, too,” Tommy deadpans, turning back to-- whatever he’d been doing when Evan had walked in, sleep-rumpled and scowling and fidgeting with his sling, his shirt, his hair.

Fruit. Right. He’d been cutting up fruit. He takes a deep, steadying breath, trying not to think of the last time they’d been here, in this kitchen, with Tommy making breakfast. Right after they’d hooked up. Right before Evan had told him he didn’t have feelings for him.

Evan is silent for a while. Tommy can’t help but glance up. Their eyes meet, and something open and vulnerable and complicated looks back at him. His voice is soft, still a little gravelly with sleep when he finally speaks. “Thank you.”

“Hm?”

Evan steps closer, hesitant. “For being here,” he clarifies. “For me.”

It isn’t a question, and there is no pretending he’s doing this it for someone else, for Howie, this time. Not like back in the helicopter, before he’d admitted to it anyway, before Bobby--

Tommy clears his throat. Nods. “Of course.” He puts down the knife, rinses and dries his hands. Immediately regrets not having something to do with his hands anymore.

“I could help,” he offers, and Evan blinks at him. “With your hair. I could--” he glances around the kitchen, “-- could move a chair in here, have you sit by the sink, wash your hair like that? Since, you know, your arm--”

Shit, was he overstepping? Had Evan mentioned it because he wanted help, or was he just making an observation? Maybe Evan was perfectly fine in the shower using just his left arm, maybe he wasn’t as full-body sore as he thought he would be, maybe--

“You’ve seen me naked before,” Evan says, head tipped to the side a little.

“That was different,” he replies.

“Was it?” The look in his eyes is a little daring, a little dangerous.

“Wasn’t it?” Tommy retorts, arms crossing across his chest.

“You’re here,” Evan says, like that should be answer enough.

“To help you.”

“You always do.”

Yes, Tommy wants to say, because I’m crazy about you, but that’s my problem, not yours. He doesn’t. Instead, he says, “I could leave, if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t want you to,” Evan says, and Tommy is distantly surprised to find his heart is still capable of cracking a little more. Evan’s eyes widen. “Uh--” he says. “Leave,” he adds.

Tommy uncrosses his arms, flexes his hands, pats his pockets for his keys-wallet-phone. “I don’t-- I don’t want you to leave.” Evan stumbles over his words, steps closer with sure steps, winces at the movement. “Tommy.”

He’s close now, big blue eyes searching, and Tommy feels his resolve crumble again. Jesus, he really is gone for this kid. It's going to be the death of him, one of these days. He's sure of it.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, tries to locate his spine somewhere in the meantime. When his eyes open again, Evan is still looking at him, eyes wide and pleading.

“Please,” Evan says.

“Ok,” Tommy’s mouth replies before his brain can catch up. “Ok, but, Evan--” he reaches out on auto-pilot, catches himself in time, drops his hand again, Evan’s eyes tracking his every movement. “I want to help you. But if this doesn’t mean anything to you--” he forces himself to say, “-- then I don’t think I-- I can’t--” his mouth is too dry all of a sudden, his eyes too wet.

He doesn’t realize he’s looked away until Evan lets out a pained hiss and plants one big, warm hand on Tommy’s elbow at the same time. “What-- What do you mean?” he asks.

Tommy feels like an idiot, feels like he’s ripping open his chest and painting a big red bullseye on his heart, but he’s started this and so he has to see it through. He thinks of Bobby. Thinks of Evan in that hallway. He breathes in, meets Evan’s gaze. Tries to feel brave. Doesn’t. Decides to act like it anyway.

“I love you,” he says, feeling like someone’s gripping his vocal chords and squeezing tight. “I know you don’t, uh, have feelings for everyone you sleep with, but I do. Have feelings for you. I love you, Evan. I want--” He forces air into his lungs and out again. “I want to help you, I want to be there for you, but if you don’t-- if you--”

Evan is staring at him, his mouth open just a little bit. It should look dumb. It does, kind of. But it’s Evan.

Tommy’s not sure what words he’s said and hasn’t said, feels like they’re all sticking to the roof of his mouth, desperately wants a glass of water but can’t look away. He tries for another breath instead. “You know I can’t say no to you,” he says, voice cracking a little pathetically. “So please don’t ask me to.”

Evan is still staring. His eyes sparkle like a galaxy has just blinked into existence inside of them. Tommy’s hands itch. Evan’s hand has fallen away from his elbow.

He should probably leave.

“You’re not running,” Evan says faintly.

Tommy doesn’t know what to say to that, feels caught.

“You’re still here,” Evan says, the corners of his mouth curling up. God, he’s beautiful. “Y-You said all that, and you’re still here.”

“I… am?” He’s not sure he means it as a question, can’t really think about it with how Evan is looking at him. Beaming at him. Something hopeful carefully unfurls in his chest. It should hurt more than it does.

“You’re here. A-and you love me. Me.”

Tommy searches Evan’s face, tries to find anything, any little hint that he’s about to get his heart dashed against the rocks again. He doesn’t find it. He nods. “I am.” His throat feels rough. “I do.”

Evan reaches out, suddenly, winces again but that wide, wide grin is right back on his face in a heartbeat as he takes Tommy’s hand in his uninjured one. “Tommy,” he says. “Help me wash my hair?”

Tommy swallows.

“Of course,” he says.

[formulaonecrumbs]

first day of school 🏫

Lando Norris x older sister!reader

summary: lando’s first day of school and he’s scared. he just needs his big sis.

warnings: lando scared for first day (MY SHAYLAA) nonnneee

A/N: i love my baby and this is my new favourite series. OKAY ENJOY!!!!

༻ ❤︎︎ ༺

home film #3 (out of a gazillion)- found in a cardboard box labelled ‘memories’

(recorded: front drive, norris family home, bristol)

timestamp: 7:03 am 09-11-2004

the tape starts with the sound of car doors opening and shoes crunching on gravel.

the camera pans over the driveway to where the family car is parked. the boot’s open, your mum’s already filming, and a small school bag with race cars on it is swinging wildly in the air—attached to a very nervous almost-five-year-old.

lando is dressed in his uniform. it’s a bit too big. but maybe that’s because he’s tiny. the sleeves cover part of his hands, and his collar is crooked. he keeps tugging at it like it’s trying to strangle him.

“mum i don’t wanna go,” he whines, turning away from the car and immediately launching himself toward you.

you’re standing by the front gate, holding a juice box in one hand, backpack slung over your shoulder. you’re eight now. and for some reason, today you look very grown-up to him.

“bean, come on, it’s just school,” you say, giggling as he wraps himself around your middle like a koala.

“don’t wanna,” he mumbles into your shirt. “what if they don’t like me?”

you put your juice down and crouch to look at him. “why wouldn’t they like you?”

“because,” he sniffs. “i don’t know how to do school.”

you brush his hair off his forehead. “that’s the whole point of school, lando. they teach you stuff. like how to color inside the lines. and how to not cry when someone steals your glue stick.”

cisca laughs behind the camera. “is that what happened to you on your first day?”

you nod seriously. “still not over it.”

“i don’t want her to go to big kid school,” lando says suddenly, his bottom lip wobbling. “what if they make her stay there forever?”

you blink, then start laughing. “they won’t, silly. it’s just till lunch.”

“but that’s soooo long,” he groans, leaning his entire body weight on you.

adam walks into frame holding a camera of his own. “okay, everyone line up! photo time!”

lando groans again but doesn’t let go of your hand.

the next shot is a still one, filmed by the tripod now resting on the hood of the car. the whole family is lined up—ollie making a funny face holding a grumpy two-year-old flo with her half-eaten banana and you standing proudly next to lando, holding his hand in yours.

lando’s clutching your fingers like it’s life or death.

after the photo, the video cuts to the school gate.

there are dozens of kids running around, backpacks bouncing, parents waving goodbye. the camcorder zooms in just as lando’s grip on your hand tightens again.

“y/n,” he whispers. “don’t go.”

you kneel down one last time, pressing your forehead to his. “i’m right down the hall, bean. i promise. and we’ll be home before lunch. and i’ll let you have the first juice box.”

“with the straw already poked in?”

“with the straw already poked in.”

he takes a shaky breath and finally lets go.

you both walk through the gate. he’s still frowning, but he keeps looking over at you like he’s making sure you’re real.

right before the clip ends, lando glances back at the camera and yells, “wait—tell mummy i love her!”

fade to black.

THE END :>

[dangerpronebuddie]

Bobby's dead, and Eddie's only back because of it, and Buck's been living in his house, and they've both been so lonely, and they know they can lean on each other, and a loss like this is something they've never faced before they don't know how to face it.

And the funeral is beautiful, Athena and the kids keep it together better than the 118 ever could, and there's fucking Tommy, and Gerrard, and all the reasons Bobby's life was made hell before he died and it's too much.

Eddie keeps himself together until they get home and Buck finally allows himself to break. They don't know what to do, there's nothing they can do but comfort each other. The hug doesn't feel close enough, doesn't let them feel alive enough, and Buck's always one to be impulsive when his emotions are too much.

And Eddie asks what he can do, a parallel to when Eddie's life was crumbling around him. He rests their foreheads together, whispers as he still clings to Buck, I'm here. What can I do? and Buck kisses him.

It's not how it's supposed to happen, but nothing about their lives or their relationship has ever been the way it was supposed to. Bobby brought them together over a grenade and it's finally traveled enough distance to go boom. They neither one care if they survive the blast.

And then Buck's phone rings, it's the only thing that separates them. He doesn't want to answer it, doesn't want to let go of Eddie for anything, but it's Maddie, he has to answer it, freaks out that it may be Chim, or the kids, or-

"Bobby's alive."

And they neither one talk about it, neither one acknowledge it, how can they sort out their own feelings when they're running to the hospital to piece back together the family they thought would never be whole again?

[rulesofdisorder]

wait actually. yanno how when people complain about endgame steve leaving bucky and the dudebros go “oh my god not everything is about your stupid ship they were not in love steve and bucky were like brothers” and. arguably leaving your brother is worse in that situation i think. let’s look at steve and buckys whole dynamic through a sibling dynamic shall we.

like okay youre steve rogers in this scenario and your brother was presumed dead only for you to find out that he had been kidnapped by nazis and tortured and brainwashed for 70 years to the point where he didn’t even know his own name and had no bodily autonomy and when you found out about this you dismantled an entire sect of the government and then you’re brother in his confused state disappeared and you spent 2-3 years looking for him and then he was framed for murder and you believed him innocent despite the fact that he was an assassin for those 70 years when he was being tortured by nazis and maybe actually did do that for all you know but you fight the government (again) and a bunch of your new friends on his behalf and in doing so become a fugitive and spend another year(ish) on the run and then world gets attacked by this fuckass alien freak and you and you’re brother who is finally (mostly) himself again join the fight against the fuckass alien freak and you lose and your brother gets turned to dust and is dead for 5 years and so you join up with the friends who you had a falling out with to bring back all of the people who died and you succeed and your brother comes back to life and while he is much better than he was when you found him 4 (9?) years ago he is still fucked up in 15 different ways but you finally get the chance to actually be with your brother again after so long so that’s good right? wrong. you decide to leave that brother who you spent years trying to find and became a fugitive for to go back in time (a time where your brother is getting tortured by nazis and you can’t do anything to stop it because it will like break the timeline or whatever) to be with the girl you kissed once. like are you kidding me. who in their goddamn right mind would leave their sibling after all that. the answer is you wouldn’t and steve’s ending is stupid.

[musclesandhammering]

Don’t be sorry, I live for meta like this, lol.

You know, I didn’t even make the connection but what you said was so true about Odin forgiving Thor and Loki because they ultimately came around to protecting the kingdom whereas Hela ended up taking her anger out on Asgard.

I could analyse this family’s issues for hours but I think it’s really interesting how you could make a 3-circle venn diagram explaining the various comparisons and contrasts that each child has to the others in regard to Odin’s parenting of them.

Like, all three of them had an unhealthy dynamic with their dad. Thor was clearly the golden child- the one Odin was closest to and most proud of- while hela and Loki were kept at a metaphorical distance due to their rebellious history and reluctance to concede. On the other hand, Hela was set apart from the boys in that, as you mentioned, she never recovered from her wayward spiral and because of that, was never embraced by her father again. Finally, Loki is different from Thor and hela because, where they’re both (biologically and metaphorically) beneficiaries of his imperialism, Loki is a victim of it, and should have a completely different perspective on Odin’s warmongering than the other two.

All of that is to say that it’s fascinating how, despite them having mutual experiences as well, they also all have very individual grievances re: Odin’s treatment of them- and that lets us see Odin himself from three completely distinct angles. I’ve mentioned in the past that it’s like they all represent different era’s of his personal journey. Hela is his full-on conquerer days and all that baggage that came with it. Thor is his attempt to be better and leave those things behind him (even though, as we see with Thor, all is not perfect there. Despite his attempts at benevolence, the empire is still going strong, even if he’s not actively invading new realms). And Loki is the skeletons in his closet- Loki’s very origin is a reminder that Odin is still very much a coloniser and just like Loki’s heritage, his solution is not to deal with it in an atonement-seeking way, but rather try to cover it up).

That being said, none of this means Odin is a bad person or doesn’t care about his kids. In fact, I think it’s a very good parallel to real life boomer parents (lol) who love their children but are so tangled in their olden mindsets that they’re never fully able to love them in a healthy way. They may try to learn and get marginally better overtime, but unfortunately they don’t usually ever become model parents. Odin realises he’s made mistakes with his kids and the guilt over that haunts him, but he also doesn’t know the correct way to handle things. Even when he’s trying to improve, he’s still basing his self corrections on that same old warmongering king-before-father thought pattern and because of that, he just makes the same mistakes in a slightly less obvious way.

Anyway, I’m done yapping I guess. I love finding people who see Odin as a complex character instead of either “he’s an evil pos” or “stfu he was a great dad!” because, to me, the whole story is way more tragic if Odin and Frigga (and Laufey and Farbauti and Hela’s mom I guess) weren’t trying to mess their kids up but ended up doing it anyway.

brb just thinking about how Odin banished Hela a thousand years ago and then he banished Thor in 2011 and then his anger turned to Loki and Loki decided to banish him to a retirement home before Odin could get him

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Policy & Procedure | Part 8 | Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Reader | 3.6k words

You and Bucky finally talk back at his apartment. Without work and the public watching, you can finally be yourselves again. But what will that look like now the truth is out?

Warnings: 18+ language, mentions of HYDRA and the Winter Solider, adult content, p in v, dirty talk, mentions of bratting, dirty talk, oral (f recieving). S is for Sir.

A/N: This is the last chapter and I'm so excited to share it with you! Thank you so much for reading, whether it was from the start, part way through or you're just here for the smut! If you enjoyed this series please reblog to share with your friends :)

Masterlist | Policy & Procedure Masterlist | <-Part 7 | Bucky Barnes

The ride back to Bucky's apartment was filled with fraught silence. The driver tried desperately to make conversation before turning the radio up and tuning in to the coverage of what was apparently several attacks on several political offices.

Bucky paid in cash as he always did and you rolled your eyes, stepping out close behind him, his shadow. And he loved it, had missed the smell of your perfume when you tugged on his jacket sleeve.

"Mr Barnes —"

"Let's not talk here," Bucky could feel how tight his smile was, the edge in his voice.

You were finally here, finally coming to his home where he'd spent hours preparing for you — only to come back and shove the flowers into the trash compactor. He'd downed the bottle of wine he picked out sat in the bath while the water went cold and then he'd shoved the dressing gown to the back of his closet and decided he'd done as much crying as he felt became a man of his age.

Now you were here, his apartment was a mess, he had no food in and he was pretty sure he hadn't even put his clothes in the hamper from yesterday. He felt like a boy again and despite the decades of time that had passed since he'd last seen his mother, he could hear her scolding him for his slovenliness. Hear his father's raised voice —his stomach turned.

None of this was right anymore, not his life, not this day, not the awkwardness he felt with you when he'd been so happy before.

He was right, his apartment was as he left it. Dirty dishes by the sink and his coffee table covered in books, candy wrappers and cups.

"Come in, I guess, can I get you a drink?" He offered, getting a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge, at least that was full, maybe Anna had sent someone round.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you're drinking." You sat awkwardly at the breakfast bar, watching him, and a prickle on unease ran up his spine.

He still wasn't sure who you really were. Sam had told him you were security, but did he even know your real name?

Bucky placed the glass in front of you and opted to stand on the other side of the counter, he rolled his shirt sleeves up and undid his tie, watching your eyes tracking his movements as he went. That was real, he knew it, he didn't imagine the way your throat moved when you swallowed, or flick of your eyes to his forearms.

"Okay, you wanted to tell me your side of things so. You said back there —"

He was still replaying what you'd said, that you cared about, had been frightened for him.

"You have to know, I wasn't sent to —"

"Sleep with me?" Bucky took a swig of water to try and calm himself down, "sure, you said."

"I was tasked with making sure you're safe. You get lots of letters, nice letters, from kids and enhanced people and that's lovely. But you get a lot of hate mail too, it just doesn't reach your desk and Sam— he was worried."

"Do you even really know Sam?" This had stung Bucky as much as anything else, that Sam would lie so much something had to be true and he really hoped Sam had been telling the truth about your bravery during Project Insight.

"Yeah, I do.I've worked with him, as Captain America, I've done private security, undercover ops, freelance stuff…that was true. He trusts me, that's why he trusted me with his best friend." You looked at him pointedly, making sure to keep eye contact.

You hadn't looked away from him the entire time, you weren't shaking or nervous, you were telling the truth — or you were an insanely good liar because Bucky could hear your heart beating when you got excited, and right now, it was a steady thump.

Bucky wasn't so sure he was still best friends with Sam, he had a lot of apologising to do for the way he'd spoken to him.

"You worked for SHIELD?" He used his glass to wave at your faded Kevlar vest.

"Yeah, I did." He could see in your eyes, you knew what was coming next.

"Were you there?— Don't pretend you don't know what I mean, were you there?"

"Yes." You said it proudly, chin up, and he he was reminded of why he was so drawn to you. Your persistence, your pride in your role, your willingness to take responsibility. "I was there."

"And did you follow your orders then?"

"I followed the right orders,"

Bucky's heart sank momentarily

"— I listened to Agent Hill. I did my job, not as directed by SHIELD officials, but by the principals it was founded on. I protected the people. I protected Sam and Captain Rogers, Agent Hill and Agent Romanoff. I shot one of my colleagues, point blank, to protect them." You did look down then. "I was mostly a desk agent before then, it changed my life and I'm still not sure if I'm glad of that or not. But it did. I have to live with it, what I did, killing him. I had to make it mean something, so I found Sam after and I've been freelancing for him every since. Is that what you wanted to hear?" You looked like you were fighting back tears.

Bucky ducked his head, ashamed. Of course you did. Sam was a man of principal too, he wouldn't have been friends with you if you'd have run away or listened to the HYDRA agents. But it also wasn't everything he wanted to know…

"And did you see me?" Bucky let the question hang, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

"I saw you, yes. I saw you as him, the Winter Soldier and I saw you drag Captain Rogers from the river. I saw you walk away a different man. And it's that man I promised Sam I'd protect."

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head, "I don't need protecting, sweetheart."

"Seems to me like you do, if you keep forgetting you're a congressman and not a superhero. You were going to go back into the building today, if I hadn't called that cab."

"That's true." Bucky downed his water, he'd have walked back in without a second thought, he was still a little troubled by how easy it had been for you to lead him away.

"It's what makes me care about you, Mr Barnes, more than the job required."

It was your turn to look awkward now, playing with the condensation on your glass of water, the ice clinking when you moved it between your palms.

"You don't have to pretend I meant anything more to you to make me feel better, I just wanted to know the truth."

He was lying and he knew it, but he hoped you didn't.

"Hmm —" your gaze slowly moved over the counter, tracing up his arms until it felt like you were trying to see his secrets, eyes keen and trained on his own. "It meant a lot more to me than that, and I think it meant more to you. You know — I really never meant to hurt you, Mr Barnes, I got carried away. Sam was right to remove me from the position, I would've got us both in trouble or, worse, killed."

Suddenly there were tears spilling over your cheeks.

Bucky had never been good with crying, it was in many ways his biggest weakness. He wasn't an idiot, he'd spent years comforting his sister, Steve, the Howlies. But crying just seemed to make him panic.

"Oh - oh no —" he rounded the counter and wrapped his arms around you, tucking your head against his chest, one hand rubbing circles on the small of your back, the other stroking over the back of your head. "I hurt myself, I was stupid and reckless, inappropriate and unprofessional. Regardless of who you are, I should never have —"

You looked up, your arms circling his waist and pulling him closer, "I'm glad you did, I wanted to, I still —" you ducked your head, wiping your finger over the smear of mascara on his white shirt. "That'll stain."

"I don't care, what were you going to say?" He cupped your cheek in his vibranium palm, thumb nudging your tears away.

"I hated not seeing you every day, I hate being apart from you, I know that sounds pathetic, we only had a few weeks together but I —"

Bucky bent down and pressed his lips to yours, salty from your tears. He licked away the sadness, holding you steady against his body. You hesitated for a moment and he kicked himself, ready to let you go, back away and call you a cab, then you sighed into his mouth and kissed him back.

Everything felt right again, the way you allowed him to take some of your weight, leaning back into his palm, your lips parting for his own, hands clutching at his shirt and in his hair.

It felt the same. But it was still different, now that the truth was out.

"You're in your head," you whispered, tucking his hair behind his ear and searching his gaze.

"It's hard not to be," Bucky bent forward, resting his forehead against yours, "you taste the same —but—"

"But —"

"At the hotel, you — the things you said and did, what was real?"

You pulled back further, "are you asking me if I wanted to have sex with you? Of course I did, none of that was — no one asked me to do that." A little crease appeared between your eyes and Bucky fought the urge to kiss it away.

"Come on now, you know what I mean. I may be an old man but I understand playing these games, the bratting, calling me sir — I —fuck — I spanked you, sweetheart. What of that was you maintaining this illusion of the sweet little secretary, and what was real?" He could feel his ears going pink at the memory, your gasps, your begging voice asking for him.

"Would you think less of me as an agent if I wanted you to spank me, if I enjoyed playing the little brat for you?"

Bucky paused, "no, of course not, it was so sexy and I was thrilled you wanted to share that with me, sweetheart, I would've been happy no matter what you wanted to do."

"You still call me sweetheart," you tugged on his tie and he allowed himself to be brought closer to your lips.

"You're still sweet to me, regardless of what you tell me next. Unless you don't like it?"

"I like it." Your voice was breathy, dreamy and far away. "And you're still Mr Barnes —"

"That's my name, sweetheart."

"Hmm…." you lifted your chin, your lips against his, "you could still be sir to me, if you want to be."

"Oh I want to be—"

And then he was kissing you again because he couldn't help it, he had to kiss you. And you were pulling at his hair, tugging him down and arching up into him.Bucky slid his hands down your back and scooped you up into his arms marching away from the kitchen towards his bedroom. He didn't care that his sheets were messy anymore, if he got his way he'd have to change them all anyway when he was done with you.

"You like it when I take control, hmm?" He asked gruffly, nipping at your ear. The sharp sensation had you arching in his arms, trying to press yourself against him, get some friction, but it was too hard.

"I trust you, sir, but I also like that frown you get when you want to be mad at me," you kissed his cheeks and then between his eyes where Bucky knew he had a permanent wrinkle forming. "It's so sexy, I just can't help myself." You bit your lip, smiling cheekily.

He debated between dropping you to the sheets to enjoy your shocked expression or lowering you gently, but instead decided to sit himself, keeping you in his lap. Above him your face was all smiles, your eyes lit up with excitement and your mouth parted slightly. Your tongue darted out to lick nervously at your lip.

Bucky cupped your cheeks, allowing you to settle in his lap, arms looped around his neck and your fingers playing with his hair.

"I haven't been able to get you off my mind, sweetheart, couldn't stand being without you."

You both paused, bodies still, drinking in the moment.

"Then don't be, let me stay with you." You kissed him softly, coaxing him back out of the nervous shell he'd found himself in. "Let me be with you."

You pressed your hips forwards to rock against the outline of his cock and smiled when he gasped.

"You're torturing me," he groaned, dropping his head to your collarbone and pressing kisses through your shirt. His fingers made light work of the buttons, pushing the heavy kevlar vest off first and then the softer cotton.

Shyly you brought your hands up to fiddle with your bra, plain cotton to match the shirt, "didn't expect to be doing this today, had a whole lingerie set picked out for after your speech and —"

Bucky took your hands and placed them in your lap before quickly releasing the clasp of your bra and sliding the straps down your arms slowly, "you look gorgeous," he praised, ducking forward to lap at a pert nipple.

"So you don't want to see the blue lace I chose?"

"Oh I definitely want to see the lace, but right now, I just want to see you, sweetheart."

With that he lifted up, easily turning you both so you were sprawled on the bed beneath him.

"I think I promised that I'd kiss every inch of you," he lifted an eyebrow, ghosting his lips down over your collarbone and the swell of your breast. You lifted up into him but all he gave you was a flick of his tongue on your sensitive nipple.

"Tease," you groaned, tugging on his hair.

"Brat," he countered, sliding lower, kissing down to your belly button. "These have to go," Bucky began unbuttoning your office slacks, "god please say you're wearing neat little cotton panties to match that bra."

"Mr Barnes!" You covered your face with your hands and pushed at him with your foot, "you said you liked it."

Bucky caught your foot and kissed your ankle before placing it over his shoulder, "I do, I mean it — wait." His fingers slid over your ankle holster, "do you still have weapons on you?" He could feel himself getting harder, his underwear pressed uncomfortably against the wet head of his cock.

"A few, wanna find them?" You slid your foot from his shoulder down to his chest.

"Fuck, yes." And then he pounced, all pretence of romance and delicacy out of the window along with your trousers, ripped down the seam to allow him better access.

You were wearing neat cotton panties, as predicted, but Bucky didn't think he'd seen anything sexier than your concealed ankle holster, or the knife hidden on your thigh.

Bucky trailed his fingers over your thigh and then followed with his tongue, pressing down under the strap. You writhed against the sheets, "please." You whined and Bucky throbbed — that tone, the pout, your eyes. He was worried things would be different, that he would notice the previous lies in the new truths. But this was you just as you'd been at the hotel. Just as you'd been kissing him in his office.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you can have anythin' you want when you beg so pretty." He slurred, lust drunk, love drunk and preparing to bury himself between your thighs.

Your panties were gone in a second, torn and thrown over his shoulder into the darkness of his room. Instantly forgotten when his tongue touched your clit, swirling and then pressing in a steady rhythm.

"Shit," you grabbed at his hair, mussing it between your fingers and tugging, the pain was a delicious flash down his spine urging him on.

"That's it sweetheart, take what you want," he speared his tongue between your folds, lapping at you, squeezing your thighs and encouraging you to wrap them around his shoulders.

You obliged and with a final tug you went taut beneath him, thighs locking around his head.

"Good girl, give it to me, c'mon," Bucky mumbled against you, pressing you apart with his thumbs and catching your arousal on his tongue.

You panted above him, one arm covering your eyes, the other hand still tangled in his hair as he crawled back up your body, kissing you as he went. He was painfully aware that he was still clothed and though the image of you, naked, aroused, post orgasm, beneath him while he was still in his suit was incredibly sexy. He needed to feel you.

Before he could move though your hands were on him, tugging at his buttons and pawing at his trouser zip, pressing the heel of your hand against the firm length of him.

"Please, Mr Barnes," your eyes were wide, that doe eyed expression back, "fuck me."

"Fuckin' hell," it was like his entire body was hard, his whole being. He shoved his trousers and underwear to the floor, his shirt open and half off his shoulders, undershirt rucked up when he pushed you back down, looping your leg over his hip. "You're irresistible, do y'know that?"

You smiled, slowly, and tugged him down so you could whisper in his ear, "takes one to know one —sir." Your hands were all over him, sliding up his back, teasing down his chest. He was surrounded.

Your kisses were as needy as he felt, fervent, teeth clashing as you attempted to get closer, your hands clasping at each other, Bucky didn't bother to line himself up, he didn't need to. As you writhed and arched into each other his cock caught against your soaking folds, he knew when he was against your clit by the high whine that resonated from you.

"Puh-puh-puh-" your begged, rolling against him until finally he was buried inside you, blissful heat and the tight wet feeling of you thrumming around him overtook you both.

"You feel so fuckin' good, could stay here forever," Bucky kissed your temple, giving you time to adjust, for that glassy look to fade enough to know you're ready.

"God yes," you breathed and Bucky drew back, watching your mouth open in time with his thrusts, almost shocked at the sensation and the little punched out 'uh-uh-uh' noises you made. "Wanna stay, missed you so much - yes -uh - just there - yes!"

Bucky dropped to his elbows, caging you against the bed, narrowing his vision until all he could see was your face, feel the puff of your breath on his cheek and smell your perfume.

It was everything, this is what he wanted, what he'd missed, the hollow part of him that was never satisfied before. He'd known it as soon as you'd walked in his office door and he'd been completely helpless to let go of you. You were meant to be here, with him, around him — you were everything.

"Fuck —" he was close, he could feel it building and he wasn't sure if — "sweetheart, I'm so close, god I —" he pulled back, meaning to finish in his hand, on your belly or legs if you'd let him but..

"Don't you dare," you locked your ankles behind him, "I wanna come with you - I'm so so close — oh god oh god — "

He could feel you fluttering around him and, helpless to stop himself, he came hard, flush against your writhing hips he kept himself buried as he twitched, spent, inside of you. He was so happy, so tired, he let his forehead drop to your shoulder where he placed a single kiss.

"I mean it, I don't want to be without you anymore," he whispered, afraid to look at you.

"I don't want to be without you either." You closed your eyes and he allowed himself to just indulge in the feeling of your warm soft body wrapped around his own.

"I'm glad you're here, sweetheart. Do you need anything? I could order take out, run you a bath?" Bucky offered, lifting himself onto his elbow to better view you.

"I don't need anything…although…"

"Yeah," Bucky felt dreamy and far away, he caught your eye and you were smiling again, that low indulgent smile.

"I can't really keep calling you Mr Barnes, can I?" You smirked.

"I guess not," Bucky let out a chuckle, "you can call me Bucky, that's what all my friends call me."

Your smile deepened and Bucky blushed, of course you knew that, he'd forgotten his own notoriety for a moment.

"Bucky." You whispered, stroking a hand over his cheek, scuffing your thumb over his stubble. "Bucky," you sighed his name again, curling into him, tipping him over onto the bed and moulding your body with his. "I like it, I think we need to try it out properly though."

"Yeah?" Bucky said, half listening while he let his hands wander over your back. "How would we try it out."

"Hmm…" You pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips, rubbing yourself against his half-hard cock. "How about — please fuck me, Bucky?" You did your best pout, eyelashes fluttering and breasts pushed forwards.

Bucky opened his eyes to find you giggling as well.

"Yep, that'll do nicely." He agreed, before rolling you over again with a laugh of his own.

[lias-writings]

cruel world

pairing: finnick x district12!victor!reader

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of: forced prostitution, violence, and death but not described, established relationship, kissing, pet names (sweetheart, love, honey etc.), one slightly dirty joke, other characters mentioned, usual thg stuff, set in catching fire

a/n: uhhhhh i’ve been writing this for two weeks now, just couldn’t get myself to finish it, it’s here now tho so enjoy!!! ALSO IM THINKING ABOUT MAKING THIS A SERIES WHAT DO WE SAY?? (divider by @dollywons)

word count: 4.6k

finnick o’dair thought that he will never feel worse than when he was reaped for his games, barely at fourteen years old having to fight for his life in an arena with twenty three other kids. when he won his games and had to live with the heavy weight of the lives he took or when he was being sold and used by the capitol ever since he was fifteen.

that all changed when finnick met her. the love of his life with the same fate. a victor that was desirable for capitol’s citizens. a big mistake. he felt horrible whenever she was pulled from his arms to be used by violent, greedy men.

the feeling that beat those was when the quarter quell was announced. finnick he was the only male victor in district four and when mags, his mentor, volunteered as tribute for his friend annie cresta it was even worse.

finnick put on the typical mask of arrogance and pride, smiling into the cameras while his eyes hid fear and worry, his mind begging for his girlfriend not to volunteer, as he watched the screen from the justice building in his district.

“as always ladies first.” effie said into the microphone, cameras pointing at her face as they finally streamed the last of the twelve district. it was different this time, sadder. everyone was confused, heartbroken and angry.

katniss’s name was called and before anyone had the time to process it, the only other remaining female victor immediately raised her hand.

“i volunteer.”

finnick’s vision went black, he suddenly felt nauseous and sick. he didn’t know if he wanted to strangle her or hold her and never let her go. probably both.

the train ride was a lot less calmer than two years ago, when you were reaped at sixteen years old, as a tribute for your district.

the setting was quite familiar, really, haymitch was trying to drink himself into oblivion as always, effie was speaking about manner and being a team, peeta was quiet probably bracing the probability of death more than last year and you were thinking about finnick. what he’s gonna say, what are you gonna say, everything.

you wouldn’t really blame him if he was gonna get mad at you. you would too. you had the chance to not go back, yet you decided you will. although, you knew finnick would do the same in your place, katniss had a family she had to take care of, you had only finnick and friends, that all were going to the arena as well, making you wonder, how could anyone think you’d stay home and just watch? a lot of people would, but not you.

the train finally stopped in the capitol and from the window you saw people on the station, screaming and cheering and waving, greeting you and peeta. you just gave a fake smile, before disappearing behind the curtains again and following after effie to the exit.

deep breaths. in and out. your brain repeated to you, as you walked through the familiar hallway, hand in hand with peeta, showing each other support, through a little gesture.

“they all know each other, have been friends for years which gives you two a disadvantages since y’re newbies, try to make a good impression and allies, that is the most important.” he warned looking straight at you and not at peeta at all.

“but- that makes no sense, getting too close to them will just give them an opportunity to kill us right away.” you argue with your mentor.

“sweetheart, if you two stay alone, they’re gonna hunt y’ down, immediately. say what’cha want but i know these people.”

“how can we even trust them?” you throw your arms defensively, sitting on the chair, in between your blonde friend and effie.

“hey, c’mon…” peeta tried to convince you. of course he thought that your trust issues were valid, but he also understood that if you wanted to live at least after the bloodbath, you’d have to make alliances with some of the other victors.

“it’s not about trust it’s about staying alive.” haymitch gave you a strict, pointed look, ending the debate, placing the empty glass that smelled of whiskey, back at the table.

after the talk with haymitch you both were send to your quarters before your prep teams would call you and discuss the opening ceremony.

the elevator felt too small, too slow and too hot to keep your nerves in check. you knew you wouldn’t be able to calm down until seeing finnick, yet everything around you was making it even more unbearable, the feeling of being pressed together into a little ball, like the walls would close around your body, squishing you together.

“see you later?” your blond district partner’s voice echoed in your ear, taking you out of your thoughts and you give him a brief nod of agreement as an answer. if it was not for him maybe you wouldn’t even notice that the elevator’s door clicked open at your destination.

walking into your room, you slump on the bed, diving back into your restless mind. the room was just so capitol like. modern and luxurious, brightly coloured. a king sized bed places in the very middle of the chamber, a lone painting of the city’s skyline hung on the wall, soft carpet covered the first three feet of a measure from the edge of the bed so coldness of the floor would not be the first thing waking you up in the morning as if to make up for the coldness of the room on it’s own. there was nothing personal, nothing idiosyncratic that would make it imperfect, that would make it human and feel like home.

the swirls of your own brain would maybe swallow you whole if there was not a knock on the door and then a face of your district’s escalator appeared.

“sweetie, be ready in few down at the hall, pleas. also, special someone is waiting for you.” effie smiled, and her eyes held a sparkle of mystery. oh, how much she rooted for you and finnick, how much she rooted for katniss and peeta. she tried to hide it, but you were an observant person and the lessening ignorance from her was just making you like her more but you understood the importance of keeping up a mask.

“thank you, effie.” sparing her a small smile, watching her leave, you walked toward the mirror that decorated one part of the wardrobe’s door. you fixed the mess your two braids had become and tied the bows of ribbon on each side again. it was there to ground you. maybe you were crazy, but that little flashes of colour in the grey and dusty district you grew up in, were giving you hope. hope that not everything was black and white and that there was a way out. you hoped they would work the same in here. to remind you where you’re from, that fighting is a second nature to you.

impatiently stepping, from foot to foot, in the elevator you waited for it to get to zero. you didn’t know why you felt so sick. you did this before. you can do it again, right? maybe if finnick’s fallen, worried face wasn’t the first thing you saw when the elevator let you into the lobby, where prep teams were supposed to pick up their victors in no time, those affirmations would’ve been more affective. just maybe.

puffing out your chest, straightening your back, and walking towards the group of much older and skilled victors with confidence seemed like a good idea second ago, the other second when enobaria pierced through you with her gaze, not so much. you had a deep respect for that woman.

swallowing down you walk up to the other duo standing there. you counted five victors in total, which was not much, but you assumed others were or requested to be escorted from their private rooms. few meters from the career pack, there was no one other than finnick with mags next to him.

finnick chatted with his career co-victors for a while, trying to appear as indifferent and as charming as he always is. there was no way for him and you to be in a public relationship, no. it’s been just a secret between you and your closest friends. you did try to hide it from snow, but he found out in a matter of weeks anyway. surprisingly he let it slide, a thought forming in his head how great of a extortion method this could be for him.

“i won’t look into what you do in private, but for everyone else, you and her have to appear available and willing, mr. o’dair.” snow’s voice ringed in finnick’s head often, killing him from the inside like a parasite.

a good way to describe president snow, who always found ways to hurt and destroy more and more. increasingly often you and finnick found yourselves escorted at the capitol from your districts, to satisfy the greedy clients that simple objectified and violated you, leaving you feel used and dirty.

finnick had a comforting arm around mags’ shoulders, few moments after excusing himself from the conversation with the other careers, waiting for their prep teams. a familiar sounding footsteps echoed through the room, familiar scent lined through the air as you neared him, finnick adverted his eyes from mags’ looking up so he was met with a warm, soft but confident gaze of his lover.

he wanted to run to you, take you into his arms and kiss you senseless. instead he just gave you that warm smile, waiting. he was still upset about earlier events but also incredibly understanding and content to see you alive.

giving a brief nod of acknowledgment to the careers you hurried to hug finnick, while trying to make it look like he wasn’t the love of your life or something.

“finnick.” you breath out loud in relief almost, leaning up to wrap your arms around his neck, feeling his muscular arms envelop you once again after all the long weeks of being out of reach, just relaying on a belief the other one was safe.

“my love…” he whispered softly, almost inaudibly so no one would hear, but you did and that was enough.

he didn’t wanted to pull away from you, almost felt like he physically couldn’t until you did, leaning back, taking away the warmth you provided for the brief moment the embrace lasted.

“hi mags.” you greet mags, the wonderful old lady you’ve grown so much to, finnick’s mentor and the female tribute for district four. she returned your hug, giving you a smile, her gentle motherly hand brushed your cheek.

the next day the training began, you were given your training suits and alongside peeta, you walked into the training room. so similar to how you remembered it. the survival stands, fighting matts and of course simulators, for archery, knife throwing, sword fighting and much else.

you part ways with your district partner, for now, walking around slowly, trying your hardest to smile at the other occupants of the room, but most, just hissed or glared at you, until by the corner of your eye, you caught those crazy geniuses from the third district or whatever haymitch said, struggling to make a fire.

“you should move your hands downward and faster.” you try to advice putting a smile on your face, as you tried unnoticeably take a closer look at the pair, sitting down next to them, watching beetee try again.

“a little brutal force..” wiress gasped as she saw the smoke coming out of the wood.

“is always helpful. thank you.” beetee finished the line for his district partner and smiled at you, pushing his glasses back on his nose.

“by the corner of the table.” the female tribute whispers mysteriously, making you look up at the balcony, the gamemakers watched you from like hawks analysing their preys. you squint your eyes trying to figure out what was wiress talking about, so you ask.

“plutarch?” the head gamemaker had talked to you, at the victor’s party very briefly, few momths ago, but wiress shook her head and beetee seemed to be only remaining from the trio to catch on what his co-victor was talking about.

“force field.”

“how do you know?” you ask curious, scanning the area, but you just didn’t know what to catch onto.

“the shimmering. top left side.” beetee explained lightly turning your head towards the imperfect edge of the figurative border, “you see it?”

you nod along, fascinated by the occurrence. “almost like glass.” you commented.

“it separates them from us.” wiress sighed and you frowned knowingly.

“i know who’s fault that is..”

“electro-magnetic.” beetee stated after analysing the force field for few another seconds.

“how can you tell?” you ask again, confusion settling in your expression a they laughed. “is it obvious or something?” you pout almost as they giggled some more while you were trying to figure pit if there was something you were missing.

“they might as well put a sign there.” wiress laughed some more as beetee tried to explain it to you.

“look around, the holograms, the lights, every once a while, they flicker. why?”

“because the force field is taking up too much energy.” you answer, nodding understandingly, feeling a little better after seeing his pleased smile at your correct answer.

“there’s always a flaw in the system.”

and that made you think for few seconds, just about how true that was, but before you could dive too deep into those waters, by the corner of your eye, you caught mags, making fish hooks. you excuse yourself politely, from the district three victors and made your way towards the eldest mentor and this years tribute.

your gaze scanned over her creations. you knew how to make those, because finnick taught you some time ago, it came in handy a lot, you just wanted an excuse to talk to her.

“volunteering for annie was really brave.” you say standing next to her, giving her a soft encouraging smile.

mags just shook her head, her gentle hand touching your chest, which was your answer. you knew what she meant. that she admired your bravery to volunteer for your best friend instead.

before you had a chance to say anything else, finnick appeared behind you with a trident and a rope in his hand, grinning, like he was having the time of his life.

“you know this is the best knot you can know in the arena.” the blonde said hanging a noose around his neck.

you just gave him an unimpressed look but barely could fight back the smile as you were looking at him, knowing full well that was his only intention beside showing off.

“don’t look at me, look at the knot.” he chuckled as he tried to lecture you, dramatically tugging on the end of the rope, towards you.

“hilarious.” you comment, crossing your arms over your chest, but an amused smile was plastered on your face, reaching your eyes even.

“do you wanna take me for a walk?” finnick cocked his eyebrow, while keeping his tone light, his bronze waves already were a mess after his training, and maybe you even would if it wasn’t for the given circumstances so you just roll your eyes over him coyly, walking past him, for your chosen weapon to train more your skills.

“oh, really?” you heard finnick’s voice call behind you and you just had to smile for yourself before focusing on the task at hand again.

“good news.” haymitch walked into the lounge room of their floor that peeta and you were occupying, stopping right in from of the couch you were sitting on.

“more than half of the tributes want you as their ally.” haymitch said, arms folded over his chest, but what he said, was meant as a praise, he was relieved you made a good impression.

“well they saw her fight.” peeta said, standing next to haymitch, mentioning how you left everyone speechless at the training earlier today after showing your chosen skill in full swing.

“well sweetheart, who’s your pick?” haymitch asked expectantly before muttering under his breath. “beside o’dair of course..”

“i want wiress and beetee.” you say without much thinking, blinking as you saw haymitch’s expression shift ever so slightly.

“johanna calls them mats and voltes.” your district partner comments, not so sure with your choice of allies.

“well honey, who’s else?” haymitch tried again, his last hopes mirroring in his eyes.

“mags.” you shrug softly almost pouting at the looks you have gotten from your mentor and co-tribute.

haymitch swallowed, hard. looking at peeta who was right now rethinking all his life choices before looking back at you.

“i’ll tell them y’re still makin’ up your mind.” he settled on before walking back towards the elevator.

soon enough the prep teams plugged out their victor, to make them look as significant as attractive and as glorious as they can. you were waxed off of all your additional body hair beside those on your head. they bathed you, scrubbed and soaped up your body with the expensive products that held rich scents of vanilla, strawberries and sweet cakes.

it didn’t take more than hour before cinna walked through the door of the room where you were supposed to wait for him.

“cinna..” you hug him, your hair still wet. he was the first person from the capitol, you ever trusted. he was a great stylist and even greater man. as a stylist for district twelve, he dressed both you and katniss for your games.

breathtaking, mesmerising, magnificent, enchanting and just simply beautiful. all those words could describe the dress you wore. white, wedding like, but incredibly revealing even if they were floor length. that’s how you first would call it, they wanted you to be desirable. you knew why. you knew it was all president snow, teasing, poking and provoking. it was just so him.

“and if i die in that arena, my last thought will be of your lips.” you watched finnick say on the stage, next to caesar flickerman, and god did it sounded so fake. the audience swooned, some of the other victors beside you made disgusted faces and you, you were the only one in the room, knowing it was real.

flickerman sent him off the stage with a laugh, and called the female tribute from district five on the stage. the victors kept changing and before you could listen more to johanna’s screaming, finnick’s voice stole your attention away.

“break a leg, or whatever you say in twelve.” the typical arrogant smirk decorated his perfect face as he snickered, throwing yet another sugar cube into his mouth, you knew it always did ease his nerves.

“maybe johanna will break his leg.” you mutter adverting your gaze to johanna mason, raging on the podium. when finnick introduced you to her first, you found her hard to trust, but soon enough you got used to her unpredictable, fierce nature. your calmer and rational thinking was a great contrast to your friendship.

the observation earned a chuckle from finnick as he took a little step closer to you, looking at you with his sea green eyes, for a long moment as if complimenting your beauty with just the look on it’s own. finnick had his way with words, there was no discussion about that, but his eyes always spoke for him first.

“see y’ later, honey.” his thumb ever so gently brushed against your chin, as he turned to walk to the other already interviewed victors.

“peeta.” finnick acknowledged your district partner with a brief nod, and he got one back, from the younger blonde.

“finnick.” peeta muttered, walking up to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder briefly before he saw haymitch nearing both of you with effie trying to keep up with him on her dramatically tall heels.

“you know what to do?” haymitch switched gaze between his protégés, before sipping some alcohol from his flask again, to make sure they understood. earning a nod from both you and peeta he sighed, for now leaving it to the fate.

“it’s time.” effie chimmed when your name was called and started lightly pushing you towards the staircase leading up the podium.

“our lovely girl, all the from twelve, doesn’t she look beautiful?” caesar gushed putting a hand over his chest, while holding the microphone in the other. the audience cheered, they loved you here, you were such an interesting victor to the capitol.

“tell us, did you leave a special someone at home? i don’t believe you didn’t.” laugh erupted from the crowd but everyone awaited your answer.

“thank you, caesar. what a..nostalgic feeling to be here again., but i didn’t, really.” you smile sweetly, your eyes searching for a head of bronze waves underneath the podium but the moment of silence flickerman left you was way too short, for you to be successful. and also technically, you weren’t lying. the special someone was there with you.

“unbelievable. such a beautiful young lady. ain’t i right gentlemen.” the crowd cheered once more before caesar asked you other number of questions.

“you did good, now you two should get some rest, the raiting starts early again tomorrow.” haymitch said as he walked with you and peeta to the elevator after introducing you to his friends, seeder and chaff, the victor tributes from district eleven.

you gave a hum in an answer, leaning against the glass wall of the lift while it gone up, not paying attention to the conversation haymitch had with peeta, getting lost in your thoughts once again before johanna’s loud voice pierced through the compressed space.

“care to unzip?” she grinned at peeta which you just rolled your eyes over, until by the corner of your eye you caught familiar tall frame that stepped in just behind johanna. finnick.

“haymitch.” the victor from district four cocked at your mentor, who just gave him a nod, brief annoyance flashing over his expression, just before johanna completely stripped off her clothes having all of the three blond’s eyes on her.

“thanks. lets do it again some time.” she called over her shoulder winking at you, before walking away into the hallway of the seventh floor where her quarters were.

“thank you.” the oldest member of the group answered and finnick threw a smirk at you making you roll your eyes once again, not even noticing haymitch’s judging look thrown into your boyfriend’s direction.

“not tired, o’dair?” your mentor uttered indifferently, looking everywhere around just to not catch your gaze.

“ve got a great stamina.” the younger blond mused while peeta just shifted awkwardly not comfortable in the position between the two older victors.

you just fake coughed lightly into your fist, reminding everyone of your presence so all the male victors around went quiet rather than being scold for the childishness of their arguments.

“twelfth floor.” the voice in the elevator announced and peeta was the first one to get out just to disappear into his bedroom, wanting to leave you and finnick some space, knowing he will talk to you later, but mainly wanting to get away from any other possible drama.

haymitch almost lazily shuffled out, into the hall, drinking the liquor from his flasks once more, before turning his head to look at you, making that disapproving face.

“use protection.” he just muttered before getting lost as well, before you had any chance to yell something back at him.

“are you even allowed to be here?” you turn to finnick, before he led the two of you slowly to the balcony railing, his hand holding yours.

“i didn’t ask.” is your answer from him along with that charming, kind smile of his. finnick leaned against the railing, reaching his free hand out to cup your face, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

it was more than comforting, to after weeks of loneliness, spent the night in finnick’s warm, loving embrace, his presence always had the charm to keep the nightmares from haunting every minute of your not so peaceful sleep.

the four days went even faster than it did last time. the individual rating was something that went completely around you and your brain wasn’t able to process much of the given informations, when it was occupied by the thoughts of what is gonna happen tomorrow and if you will live to see what happens after tomorrow.

“pst. hey, hey baby.” the familiar gentle voice took you out pf your thoughts and you turned around to see finnick standing at the doorway of your bedroom. for tonight, you had agreed to sleep separately, so you’d be strong and fully rested at the dawn.

“finnick!” leaping into his arms you take the feeling in, as if it was the first and last time, you ever get to feel his love and care.

finnick smiled, holding you close to his chest his arms supporting your weight as he leaned his head down, kissing your lips gently. then again, and again.

“i’ll see you in the mornin’ m’kay, sweet girl? ‘s all gonna be okay.” he gave you a reassuring look pecking your forehead.

“yea, in the morning.” you mumble, just clinging close to him, not being able to say much right now, feeling your insides being tangled in a one knot and squeezed tightly.

“good night, my love.”

“good night, finn.” unwillingly you let him go only comforting thought being that it all, might soon be over.

[tinylilacbun]

how do you think daddy! rafe would respond if he found little! reader with his gun or a weapon of sorts?

Warnings: kinda dark!rafe turning soft at the end, cussing, mentions of guns, angst/comfort

You didn't mean to snoop around, really, but you're bored out of your mind and have been waiting for Rafe to be finally done with whoever he's talking on his phone for what feels like hours.

Somehow you end up in his office that he keeps locked most of the time, especially when you're little, today he seems to have forgotten it, giving you the chance to look around.

You smile when you see a few of your colored pictures pinned on the cork board that's hanging on the wall together with notes and documents you don't even bother reading as you wouldn't understand a single thing that's written on them.

As you move to sit on his leather chair you swivel around in it a few times, some giggles slipping past your mouth before turning to sit properly at his desk, eyeing how organized everything is.

Moving your gaze lower, your curiosity gets the best of you as you start to open the drawers, seeing different files, papers, and pens, until you reach the last drawer your breath hitches at what you discover.

A gun. Rafe's gun. Something you only get glimpses of when you are big and even then those times are extremely rare, not even thinking as you reach inside the drawer to pick it up carefully.

It's so heavy, a lot heavier than you expected it to be, turning it from left to right and admiring it with big eyes.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Rafe's voice cuts through the silence, making you jump in the seat and almost drop the gun.

Your heartbeat picks up as he strides towards you quickly, snatching the gun from your trembling hands and grabbing your jaw with his free one, his breathing ragged.

"You know better than going in here without my freaking permission." He sneers at you, his grip on your face getting firmer as he lifts the gun for you to see. "This. This right here, is not a fucking a toy, do you hear me?"

You try to nod as best as you can, your eyes brimming with tears at his tone and the way he holds your face. "M-M'sorry daddy..."

He leans down so your noses are almost touching. "Never do that again." He mutters, letting you go a bit too harsh, making your back hit the leather seat as you shrink under his gaze.

You watch him walk over to the painting that has a safe hidden behind it and unlock it, laying the gun inside it before shutting it again quickly.

The tears finally start to pour down your cheeks as you can't keep them at bay anymore, sobbing quietly to yourself and tense up when you see him coming back over to you, expecting another scolding of which you're not sure if you're able to take any more today.

"C'mere..." He sighs, gently picking you from the chair and sits down himself with you on his lap, your face nestled in his neck as you sniffle. "Shh, shh, it's all good. I'm not mad, I was just- you could have hurt yourself real bad, and I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if something ever happened to you, baby."

You relax against him as he explains his sudden outburst towards you, understanding that he was just worried about your safety more than anything else and that he's still working on his temper, still learning how to approach you gently whenever you're in that sensitive headspace.

"M'sowwy, daddy...d-didn' mean to-" You whimper against his skin, reaching up to fumble with one button of his shirt as he rubs his hand up and down your arm, rocking you both slightly.

"I know, I know you didn't. Daddy's office is off limits for a reason, kid." He reminds you, letting you curl yourself more against him to be comfortable.

He keeps holding you until your sniffles and hiccups completely stop, only standing up with you still in his arms when he's sure that you've fallen asleep.

[riverbends]

Twin anon again

Imagine if one of the twins were like himself as a kid. I'm not all the way through, but in the clips I've seen, it seems like he's selectively mute, so maybe one of his twins talks with ASL and maybe only speaks to her sister and her mother when they're alone

Extra angst they were born while pope was in prison so they don't know him at all and he's doesn't know ASL so he literally cannot communicate with the daughter who is most like him 😭

God i have pope brain worms i swear

and i am eating the pope brain worms like it’s food for the soul. i think, obviously, he is generally awkward with most people but a little less with children. if one daughter is more than happy to interact with him and the other sort of just sits around him—legs swinging over the seat with her head in the clouds—he’s going to have the most excruciating time trying to pay attention to the chatty one.

you spectate the whole thing, probably on the porch while the three of them are engaged in some little activity and you can’t ignore the way pope is so removed from the conversation with his happy girl because his gaze keeps lingering on the quiet one, who won’t really even look back at him.

a lot of things keep him up at night but this has him pacing around the house like a madman and there’s nothing you can do to draw him back to bed. if there is ASL involved, he spends every night trying to teach himself and he won’t let anyone help him.

after some time, he does find her one morning and the signing doesn’t really seem to get through to her so he communicates in his own child-like way.

i imagine him drawing a picture for some reason. uses the girls’ crayons to scribble a messy but identifiable stack of pancakes or something. and then a chair and table beside it. he hands it to her and doesn’t say a word, just disappears into the kitchen and she’s left to look at what he tried to illustrate.

he’s in the middle of pouring batter onto a pan when he notices her standing by the kitchen island in her pyjamas, no taller than the countertop. her hair is untamed and she wears the straightest face as she blinks at him. he blinks back.

it’s enough to warm everything inside him. it’s more than enough. he knows he’s finally worked his way through their barrier as soon as she goes to sit at the table while she waits patiently for her breakfast.

he notices, later on, that she’s kept his drawing. she keeps every drawing he gives her over time and he continues drawing childish little scribbles for her months after they’ve learned to talk to each other properly.

yeah i’m sobbing now👍🏽

[bwobgames]

She decides to hang out with a friend!

Which is. A bit of a shame since everyone seems to be somewhere else.

Which is why, the wonders of technology!

She looks at her phone and sees a clear lack of signal. So that’s how it is huh.

But, she also sees some unread notifications from a dear friend.

She puts the phone close to her ear and hears the first of multiple voice messages.

“Hey girl! How are things going? Please tell me if the train is any good I’m dying for a quick escapade. If I hear anyone else try to explain to me how the stock market works, I’m going to be on the news.”

“Is my baby okay? Did he shave that awful moustache? Please say yes.”

It’s Eva! Her friend from work!

A fellow young mind wanting to live it up in the world of business, although unlike Mari, she had some family capital with her already.

Probably why she always managed to stay cheery even while taking difficult business decisions.

Before Nina stepped in, Eva was her one ally in the rough path of maternity, picked up the slack when Eugene got bored of taking care of his pregnant wife, as he does. Although due to her international responsibilities, she wasn’t available as much as she wanted.

Until Eva suddenly showed up with a baby of her own.

They made a glorious system. When Eva had to travel, Mari and Nina would take care of Owen. And when Mari and Nina were too overwhelmed by work, Eva would look after them.

And of course, they all got to have play dates together!

She’s a bit envious on how easy Eva could take care of 3 children. The second Nina was out of the picture Marigold started to struggle.

It seems that pure unfiltered love is not enough to stop children from chewing cables.

It takes a village, truly.

Of course, someone of Eva’s calibre could’ve just paid a nanny, but she wanted Owen to grow in an environment full of friends.

And when he already got those friends, boarding school it is. A boarding school the three of them got exact knowledge on who the teachers, the directors and even the janitors are.

At this point, those kids have 3 moms now.

“By the way, tell Nina her cake recipe is a godsend. I fought myself not to eat more than one piece of it and I lost. That wife of yours is gonna give me diabetes!”

For a long time, Eva thought Mari and Nina were already married. Which made for a very interesting situation when she finally saw Eugene at the house.

She called the cops.

Eva doesn’t know what happened at the mansion.

And if it were for Mari, it would stay that way.

Owen himself might tell her someday, but secretly, she hopes he doesn’t.

Eva already lost her husband; she doesn’t need to know her son died too.

Died under Marigold’s supposed watch…

She lied to her. She said she doesn’t know where Owen’s sudden aggravation of his storm fear came from. She said she can trust her with her son.

She refuses to break that promise again.

“Also, also, did Vivi go or not? If she did tell her I said hiiiii! If she didn’t tell her I said byeee! Oh, the two lovely boys as well!”

Ángel got along with her, he even played matchmaker with a friend of his! That cheeky little man.

“Bring me something yummy! Bring cheese! And meat! And many many drinks because I have gathered so much gossip you wouldn’t believe!”

She needs that information now.

“Alright I’ll leave you be, I’ll be watching your stocks from the sidelines, don’t worry. And! I booked a trip for the telescopes I was telling you about! This time I will not be stopped by sudden emergencies I swear! We will have a fun star gazing bonanza I swear!!”

“Okay byeeeee! buy me something nice, eat well, don’t let Owen convince you I allowed him to drink, don’t attack people and relax for once!!”

She’ll try.

But first, time to respond

“I need that information. I’ll get any and all drinks necessary, I need it. And I’ll be holding onto that promise, I want some stars!”

“Also, the TV show you recommended? I watched it all in 3 days. Amazing. The second I get signal and a private room I need to discuss it with you, or I’ll explode”

“Currently Owen still has that moustache and I’m afraid his mind is not going to change anytime soon. My condolences.”

“Everyone says hi and they miss you! If they don’t say it, I’ll make them.”

And for a final message, something important.

“That is all, I’ll call you later!”

It’s always nice to catch up with friends, even with both of them being busy working women, they always find time for a tea break.

Which sounds like a great idea right now! Relaxing tea adventure!

Until a pink haired creature finds her.

<PREV START NEXT>

[dramagodesss]

coffe date

pairing :exchange student! reader x nerd! rafe

summary : you finally have a propper date with rafe.

warnings : none! fluff and that's pretty much it :)

it’s after another long library session, the kind where your eyes are heavy and your fingers are smudged with ink, when you casually glance up at rafe and say,

“hey, do you think... maybe next time we could study somewhere else?”

he pauses mid-sentence, eyes lifting from the open notebook in front of him.

“somewhere else?”

you nod, sipping the last bit of your coffee. “yeah. like... there’s this little café near campus i’ve been wanting to try. it’s quiet, has really comfy seats. and the coffee's actually good.”

he blinks. once, then twice.

“sure,” he says, way too fast. “yeah. that sounds... nice.”

you smile, slipping your phone out and holding it toward him.

“great. give me your number? i’ll text you the address.”

his hands are a little shaky when he takes the phone from you, like it’s too delicate to hold. his fingers are warm when they brush yours. he types it in carefully, double-checking it twice before handing it back.

“text me when you’re free,” he says, voice soft but so sincere it kind of sticks with you the whole walk home.

a few days later, you spot him at the café’s window table, sitting just where the light spills in. he’s already got your drinks — your usual, and his. he looks up when he sees you and stands for a second like he isn’t sure what to do with himself.

you sit across from him, thanking him for the drink, and the way he shrugs like it’s no big deal... but his smile gives him away. he’s trying so hard not to look like he’s buzzing.

the café’s warm, quiet. soft music playing in the background, students scattered across tables, baristas laughing gently behind the counter. it’s easy here. easy to talk, easy to relax, easy to just... be.

at some point, you pull out your notes, flipping through them as you sip your drink. rafe’s still watching you, eyes scanning over the lines of your handwriting like he finds comfort in the neatness of it.

you frown a little, tapping your pen against the edge of the notebook.

“hey,” you say, nudging it toward him. “what’s this word mean?”

he leans in, his head close to yours as he squints at the page.

“which one?”

you point. “this. i’ve seen it like three times already and it’s driving me nuts.”

he lets out a soft breath of a laugh, and tells you the word — quietly, gently, like he’s afraid of getting it wrong, even though he never does. he explains it, too, not just the translation, but the context, the feeling of the word.

you’re not really looking at the page anymore. just at him.

“you’re really good at explaining stuff,” you say, leaning your cheek on your palm.

rafe’s ears flush instantly. “thanks,” he mumbles, his voice just a little caught. “you’re... easy to explain things to.”

you grin.

“that’s the most ‘rafe’ way to say i’m smart i’ve ever heard.”

he laughs — really laughs — and it’s the first time you hear it that clearly. it sounds like something you want to hear again. warm and a little surprised, like you caught him off guard in the best way.

his eyes flick to your arm, then back up to yours. “hey,” he says, voice soft but curious. “what’s your tattoo mean?”

you glance down instinctively, brushing your fingers over the tiny line of dots and dashes just below your elbow.

“oh. it’s morse code,” you say, smiling faintly. “it spells out ‘stay.’ from Interstellar.”

rafe blinks. “shut up. are you serious?”

you laugh. “what? you’ve seen it?”

“seen it? it’s my favorite movie. i’ve loved it since i was a kid.”

you sit back, eyebrows raising. “no way. that movie destroyed me. i cried for like an hour after.”

he nods in solidarity. “same. the music,the fifth dimension stuff its... unreal.”

“ugh, don’t get me started,” you groan, but you're smiling.

he watches you for a second, then takes a sip of his drink as you say, casual but maybe a little hopeful, “i saw netflix just added it. was thinking of rewatching it this weekend.”

rafe pauses, like he’s choosing his next words carefully.

“i was thinking about rewatching it too.”

your heart stutters — not dramatic, just... oh. soft and simple and mutual.

you glance at him, teasing. “well… you could come over and watch it with me. dorm’s kinda tragic though. no tv. just my ipad.”

he hesitates a second, then shrugs, a little sheepish. “i, uh… i’ve got a tv. at my apartment.”

you blink. “you don’t live in the dorms?”

“no,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “i’ve got this small place near campus. it’s quiet. i like having my own space.”

you nod, impressed. “okay, mysterious grown-up.”

he laughs, still a bit shy. “not really. just… like my peace, i guess.”

you smile, warm and steady. “so... movie night?”

he meets your eyes, cheeks pink but voice sure.

“yeah. movie night.”

taglist : @beewritess

[nthewriter]

Thank you all for sticking with me 🫶🏻✨️

Bad ending to being Simon's long lost biological child

It shouldn't have happened.

It shouldn't have.

Simon blamed himself. Who wouldn’t? His baby laid dead in a grave. Their body had been repatriated by the air force, recognising the features and the last name on the dog tag, his dog tag actually. The ones that disappeared at the same time than his child, that only left a note. Forgive me, dad. He did. He forgave them.

The flowers laid on the marble, fresh tulips and in soft colors. He hoped they were seeing them from where they were. From what he had understood and what Kyle had been willing to tell him, they found his kid's body intertwined with another. A friend, perhaps. At least they didn't die alone.

The crunch of the leaves made Simon look up. He exhaled as Johnny took his hand and squeezed it, trying to comfort him. But how could he be happy now? He had finally his child back, he had been trying to be a good father for them. He had loved his kid. And now... they had slipped from his hands again.

"Hey..." Johnny's voice reached his ears. It was clear he didn't know what to say as well.

"I know." Simon gruffly spoke, trying not to cry. He felt weak. He felt like a disappointment, a piece of shit of a father.

He could only stare at the name on the tomb. Elsie... What would Elsie say? What would Elsie think? She would protest, yell at him, that he couldn't have protected his own child from themselves. And she would have been right.

When he thought about it... His kid was likely reunited with their mother now. It was a gentle thing to think about. They weren’t alone up there.

"Let’s go back home." He heard Johnny murmur.

Home. What did it mean now? It meant... coming to a empty house with Johnny, without the sight and the presence of his kid. Simon had insisted to keep the room they stayed the same, that they wouldn't even clean it. He had already laid in their bed, trying to breath in the faint scent of his progeny, trying to remember what they sounded like, what they smelt like.

Simon once had believed he had the right to be happy. And now... he had lost it.

[boringsickness]

Idc if I said it already but Bernard would be trying so hard not to cry while "family line" is playing.

You could literally see his whole body going rigid, face almost covered by raised shoulders as if he wants to be absorbed back in his own body.

The trembling hands shoved in his pockets or simply beside his body as if they were not even his limbs.

The nose and the zone around it going red from the force put into not bawling, not sniffing back mucus and not fucking fall on the ground sobbing.

Because yes, he's doing better now. He has new friends, a few but better than nothing, he has a found family whose including him and a better life.

But at the end of the day, he's still the kid that just wanted to be told he was doing a good job. He's still a kid that had to watch his father yelling at his face while his mother was unable to defend him, his own fucking son.

And oh, how he hates the fact that he still yearn for that. For motherly love, for a loving parent who would simply pet his head and say "it's going to be okay."

And sometimes, oh sometimes, when the song is playing all goes back to that kid and he feels his progresses going back and he wants to grumble again under the pressure of feeling useless and unwanted.

But at least, he has Tim there. Taking his shaky hands into his own, asking him if it's okay to touch him and hug or if he prefers to just let it go alone. If he wanna talk or if he prefers the silence, if he actually want him to stop the music or simply, finally, feel what he has suppressed for so long.

Holding his face against his neck, fingers running through his hair, and telling him "I'm here".

And no, it's not actually gonna change his relationship with his family and it's not gonna make everything go magically better with everyone or himself.

But at least, he finally has someone who's not running away. Who's embracing him, asking about HIM and it's okay.

It's something, it's a start and it's more than enough.

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Nineteen

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

Notes: An update this quick? Who ever heard of it! Hope you lot like this one:) A new face enters the fold!

taglist: @thelastemzy @helloitsme1223 @geekchic48 @antisocialsocialclub5

Masterlist

Marshall’s POV:

It was after the game. Tigers having won, 4–3, ‘cause of course they had. That he’d wound up driving the three of them to a restaurant nearby, merely in hopes that it just might shut Z and all her yapping up, in truth. The girl had been hungry since the second they’d left the stadium, even with having had a hotdog and a half, as well as three fourths of their shared pretzels. That weren’t even counting all the slurpees she’d downed, seeing as Elia hadn’t had the heart to turn down the kid’s puppy-dog eyes and he himself had never really been all that fond of the shit most stadiums sold. Fucking piss poor attempt. Just water and half a can of sugar in every cup.

But that was beside the point.

‘Cause see, he’d been waiting, chewing on his tongue and biding his time, ‘til he could go right on ahead and whoop a can of Detective right out of his back pocket. 

He’d never been stupid, deliberately obtuse at times, but never stupid. No matter what his homeroom teacher might’ve claimed, or his mom even– fuck, maybe just everybody. But despite that, he also knew his daughter better than he knew himself. Could tell you what each look that crossed her face meant, what every word she phrased sounded like, even the fact that she snored differently depending on where they were sleeping. A hotel? Somebody’s hacking up bodies with a chainsaw. At home? Quiet as a fucking mouse.

So, it was safe to say that he’d noticed the shift in his kid the second he’d met back up with the pair at the stadium. Knew it had something to do with that fake fucking cowboy looking ass too. 

He dragged his tongue across his front teeth then, thinking about it all as he watched a familiar figure, wearing his favourite jersey, push through the restaurant's main entrance with a sweet smile on her face. She had been off too, looking back on it.

“So, you gone tell me what went down now?” He finally let himself ask, turning in his seat to peer into the back where his daughter sat with the foam-finger and too large plushie she’d sweet talked Elia into buying for her.

“Huh?”

He only had to level Rosie with a look, the kind that called her out on all her bullshit without saying a word. She sighed.

Slumping ever so around her seatbelt, eyes caught on his, Z finally gave him an answer, “Nothing really– Honest, it wasn’t even that serious, Dad!” She tacked on the second part as soon he raised an eyebrow. “Just some guy in the line to the hotdog stand.”

He felt his spine stiffen. “He do somethin’?”

The girl giggled softly at his quick reaction, which in itself had his muscles loosening ever so, but still, he waited for the verbal reply.

“No, Dad. Well, I mean yeah,” It was with that which Z started hurrying her explanation along, probably having seen the sudden alarm bells that she was setting off in him. “But he was just talking– flirting actually.”

Flirting.

His stare flickered out over the parking lot they’d since pulled into as he worked to unwind his jaw, having just felt the grit of his teeth clip the side of tongue. It was his daughter’s amused snort that had him blowing out a slow breath, though he was careful not to give away how much it affected him, the idea of some random dude trying to get a hold on what he’d worked so hard to allow himself to want. 

He waited, one, two…

“Guy with the stupid hat?” He questioned her, even though he already knew.

Z nodded, grinning at him toothily now that he’d turned his gaze back to her. “Don’t worry, Dad. I had your back.”

His brow furrowed at that comment and her amusement broadened. She giggled again, a sound he’d come to love more and more as she grew up, but he couldn’t help but wonder, “What d’you mean?”

“Dad..” She droned out, her voice tried, whilst she rolled her eyes at him, as though he was the one being dense or some shit. “I know you like El! It’s obvious!”

He found himself reeling back a little at that. Obvious, really? So obvious that his kid had gone and caught on to his inner turmoil? ‘Cause that’s exactly what it’d been since Elia had walked into his life.

He let himself slink back in his seat but kept his eyes fixed on his daughter in the rearview mirror, at her gleeful little grin. 

“Ain’t obvious, you goblin.” He heard himself say a minute later, scoffing, which earned him nothing but a laugh and a clipped uhuh in return. “It ain’t.” He enforced, hating the way he sounded like he’d stooped to her level, “And anyway, how you even know ‘bout any of that? You should be countin’ your Abc’s, not sticking your nose into my lo–” Damn. He was gonna say love life. 

She’d caught onto it too, quick as anything this girl. 

“One, I’m not a little kid. Two! Who ‘counts’ their Abc's?” Rosie acknowledged, making full use of her fingers as she started listing things off. “And three– you loveeee her! You wanna kisssss her! You wanna marryyyy her!”

“What are you, three?” He shot back, feeling vaguely flushed at the notion of having been called out so blatantly, and by his daughter nonetheless. “‘Sides, ain’t none of your business.”

She hit him with another one of those uhuh’s again. His left cheek twitched.

“Come on, Dad. I’m big enough now, I can know these things.” Z said, almost reprimanded him, truth be told, though contradicted herself in the way she still clung to her plushie, “I like her anyway– a whole lot. If you wanted to know.”

“If I wanted to know.” He muttered under his breath in a huff full of mirth. Funny kid. 

Still, he let her words bounce around in his head for a couple of seconds, really taking them in, before his eyes flickered over his right shoulder. “Don’t mean she’s replacin’ nobody, you get that, right? An’ I don’t know what’s gone happen either. She lives far away, like a whole ocean. That stuff ain’t easy.”

Rosie rolled her eyes, albeit fondly, at him as though she was used to hearing all of his worries, and had even expected it. “I know she won’t replace nobody, Mom’s Mom. But still, it’s different with Lia. And also, ocean-smotion– Dad, you’ve gone through worse.”

He couldn’t help the soft snort he gave her. 

Still, he didn’t want to linger too long on that second thing. 

“Lia, hey? When you start usin’ that?” He wondered, scratching the side of his head as he flashed her a small smile.

Z shrugged ever so, like a little kid who’d just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Yet, she still answered him, “Lottie uses it.”

He knew that much, knew it was also a name that the woman didn’t allow just anyone to use, or hear really. He felt his tongue scrape against his back teeth, still sore from the earlier assault, before he then hummed. “You don’t mind it then? Like me, maybe datin’ again?”

“Mind it? Dad, she’s the best! Like super cool, too cool for you even.” Rosie started, her face having lit up like a christmas tree, even as he gently swatted her foot in retaliation to that latter comment. “She’s pretty too, like one of those models you see on the tv pretty. But also not, because some of them are sorta scary. Still. She lets me talk and tell her stories. She does my hair! She helps me with my homework, even when she looks like she’s busy! She doesn’t treat me like a little kid either, not even when I want a hug or get upset. She’s just–” 

She smiled there, one he didn’t think he had ever really seen on her before and it struck something deep inside of him. 

“She’s the best.”

He wanted to reply, to find some words to give back to her in return for them, but Hell, was it difficult. 

It was just as he went to open his mouth that the silence of the car was shattered by the sudden click of the sidedoor. A rush of wind swept through as the topic of their conversation shuffled her way inside, the food they’d ordered situated in a paper bag on her lap whilst the woman herself flashed the two of them a happy smile.

“Christ, it’s freezing out there, I swear! Must have been a change in weather or something because I know it wasn’t that cold at the game.” Elia blew out, clicking her seatbelt into place before she rubbed her hands together for warmth. “They gave us extra garlic bread, by the way. And a slice of cake?” She told them as she peered into the bag, wafting a savoury scent around the car, “Dunno why, but I thought it was dead nice, so.”

She shrugged lightly and then turned back towards Z, gifting the girl yet another smile that had Rosie mimicking its strength. 

“Got your chips, too.” El added, waving a bag of salted potato chips before cracking another grin when Rosie’s face fell in sudden surprise. “And your fries.” She snorted, this time shifting to gift him a smile that was overtly sheepish, “Might’ve forgot about the difference. They were real lovely about it though, gave me the crisp bag in a sort of jokey way. Made me laugh.”

“Maybe they liked your accent!” Z gasped excitedly.

He simply shook his head though, smirking whilst he switched the engine back on and shifted into gear. “I think they jus’ might like you as much as we do, baby.”

Oh, and was that worth it to have seen the way she flushed so prettily. 

Z giggled happily behind them, sending him a knowing look through the rearview mirror the second he chanced a glance back. 

That time, he couldn’t hide his smile.

–

I’d not long gotten off the phone to Lottie when the frontgate buzzed. The sound had thoroughly confused me at first, seeing as I’d never once heard it during my stay, but had intrigued me the second I realised what it could only mean. I all but scampered my way into the foyer, drawing up behind Marshall as he strode over and picked up the phone, swiping through the security cameras to show the gates and giving me a visual of the sleek black car asking to be allowed access.

“Yeah?” Em welcomed the person, but whatever reply he received through the phone had him smirking before he ultimately chuckled and reached out to buzz the car on through. “Yeah, yeah. I hear you, bitch. You best brought food.”

When Marshall hung the phone back up on the receiver and pivoted back around, he wasn’t all that surprised to find me standing there, that smirk still curving his smile.

“Who is it?” I wondered, blinking at him before I heard the gravel crunch of tires pull to a stop in the driveway. I glanced over towards the windows just as Em laughed, but he stayed quiet as he made his way past me, making sure to squeeze my hand when he did before he unlocked the door. “Marsh.” I added, a little anxious now.

But it wasn’t a second later that a figure hopped up the patio just outside, car lights flashing behind them, before they made a stop in the doorway, arms full of takeout. I raised an eyebrow at the sheer amount, before I finally blinked and realised exactly who it was I was staring at.

“Why you always got to mess around with that thing? This is why they don’t like givin’ poor people money!” The man said as his welcome, shaking his head whilst Marshall in turn just snorted.

“I just like fuckin’ with you, man. Now get the fuck inside, lettin’ all this cold air in.”

“Yeah, yeah. Like you actually care.” Was the retort given, the visitor having already offloaded some of the food into Marshall’s hands and kicked off his heavy boots, pushing them to the side.

Em sort of clucked his tongue as he shut the door, “Where your manners, anyway, man? Lady present.”

I watched on as the visitor, in turn, furrowed his brow at Em’s words before glancing around the room, probably having expected Z to have started bounding her way over. But instead, there was only me and so a sly smile soon stretched out across his face as he took me in from over the rim of his sunglasses. 

“Elia, Elia, Elia.” He drawled out before chuckling lowly, “Have I heard a thing or two about you.”

I was surprised to say the very least. 

“I mean, same? But also not the same.” I stumbled, blinking a tad bit owlishly at him. “From your work? Yes. From Marshall? No. So this is a surprise and a half, I’ll just say.”

Marshall's head shook as he made his way on over, sighing as though put out when he gestured between us, “El, this is one of my closest friends, Ryan. Ry, this is Elia.”

“You just go by Ryan then?” I had to ask as I extended my hand out to meet the man’s own. But couldn’t ignore that way Marshall’s smirk turned into a grin. 

“Royce, Bad, B. Whatever you please.” He answered me, smiling more genuinely now, “Typically just Ryan, these days.”

I smiled back, relaxing a tad.

“Uncle Roy!” 

“Or Uncle Roy, it would also seem.” Ryan laughed as a blur of pigtails and pink launched itself at him, prompting the man to catch the girl with his one free arm and spin her around. “If it ain't my favourite Mathers member! How you doin’, little one?”

“Good.” Rosie grinned up at him before her head shot around to me, “Have you met Lia yet, Roy? She and Dad are–”

Marshall was quick to sweep his daughter back up off the floor, picking her up as he darted past the two of us and placed a hand over her mouth to muffle her words as he continued on down the hall. “Let’s eat, yeah? Food’s gone get even colder.”

“Aye, it wouldn’t be cold if you had just let me through that gate!” Ryan called out to Marshall’s retreating back, before he blinked and shouted again, “And why’d you shut the girl up, Em? You keeping secrets from me now?”

When Ryan’s gaze skittered over to where I still stood, fondly gazing after the father and daughter duo, I saw the moment his eyes narrowed in suspicion, or maybe just awareness.

“What?” I asked him, chuckling lightly at feeling caught out all of a sudden.

Ryan merely quirked a brow at me, looking smug. “One thing you gonna realise about me, Popstar. Is that, me? I see all.”

It was with that in which he trailed off after Marshall and Z, throwing me a grin as he went.

I was stuck staring after him, wondering over what he could have possibly meant by it.

…

“.. And this lizard, right?” Ryan continued on with the tale he’d started, about a tour he’d been on with Em back in the day, “Crawling up his back. On my life, this man jumped a foot in the air. Never seen anything like it. Crazy stuff, I'm telling you.”

“I didn’t jump.” Marshall amended, tutting at the man from across the table, “Thing shocked me, is all.”

“Shocked you? E, you were cryin’ out how you thought it bit you, man!” Ryan defended, before he turned to Rosie and I conspiratorially, “It didn’t, he just always been that dramatic.” 

Rosie and I couldn’t help our laughter, having been giggling away the entire meal, in truth. Ryan and Em had far too many stories to tell about one another, a few having had to have been altered, or censored rather, what with Z listening in. But all of them were incredibly hilarious and almost hard to believe.

“It did fuckin’ bite me! I got the scar to prove it.” Marshall shot back, lifting the sleeve of his tee to show off a patch of bare skin by his elbow.

“Man, there ain’t nothing there.” Ryan scoffed, shaking his head as he waved Em off. 

The pair were entertaining enough that Z didn’t even question the swear her Dad had let slip. Not that I was going to mention it. That swear jar was almost full now, most of it having been filled by me during my short stay.

“Right there!” Em further enforced, leaning over the table now to better show the other man, “Z, baby, you see what I’m seein’?”

“Sure, Daddy.” Rosie answered him, patting her father’s back in a soothing gesture that had me biting back another round of ugly laughter.

Marshall huffed out a breath, looking as alive as I’d ever seen him, before those piercing baby blues locked themselves onto me. “Help me out here, sweetheart. You see this, right?”

To be fair to him, even though I had to lean in rather close, I did see something of a slight alteration to the colour of his skin, a barely there lightened patch that could have been a scar. “Yeah, sort of.” I replied, squinting as I pointed it out, brushing my finger over its top. “‘Bout a penny long.”

Em flopped back into his seat with a victorious sort of grin, eyes narrowed as he peered over at his good friend, who was sat there scoffing at the two of us. 

“Fucker bit me, man.”

“Yeah, and I’m headed to the moon after this rerun of the Addams family ends.” Ryan admonished, shaking his head around a lopsided smile.

“Does that mean I can be Wednesday?” Rosie pondered aloud, really thinking the idea over whilst her Dad just rolled his eyes at the other man.

“Like you don’t love bein’ here. Get lost, man.”

“I speak only the truth, brother.” Ryan laughed, rolling up the napkin he’d just used and tossing it down onto his tray. I took another swig of my drink, grateful for the fact that the man had brought along enough to feed a small army, and had good taste in takeout to boot. 

Em eased a tad at that, relenting to starting the clean up instead of shooting back another quip, something the pair were quite fond of. “You stickin’ round long?” He asked around a chip he’d just stolen from Z, the girl far too used to it. 

“Got to be on a flight tomorrow morning, man. Meetings.” Ryan answered, smiling up at me kindly when I grabbed his rubbish for him, “But I think I got some time before I go. Definitely enough to get the ins and outs on whatever’s been going on here.”

Rosie giggled, whilst Marshall himself took on a bemused sort of look. “What you mean, what’s been goin’ on here? Life as usual. Work, work, and more work.”

“We went to a baseball game yesterday.” Rosie informed her pseudo uncle, attempting to hide a grin behind her cup.

“Oh, yeah? Detroit win?”

“Uhuh.”

Ryan fixed her with a raised brow. “Anything else go down?”

“A cowboy almost stole Lia’s affections, but I saved the day.”

“Affections?” Came Marshall’s bewildered mutter as he padded back over to us, whilst Ryan snorted, “Cowboy?”

I blinked back at her, then tried to silently converse through telepathy and facial expressions alone to keep her from spilling it all.

“Uhuh.” That had to be her new favourite word. “I lied and said my Dad took us out for their anniversary.”

Marshall looked a tad bit startled by the new information, whilst Ryan choked a little on the sip he’d just taken. 

“Anniversary?” Ryan laughed when he’d finally finished coughing, Z having clapped his back in good aid. “Gold, I swear. What did he say back?”

The girl shrugged, still chewing on her food. “Thought I was her kid and said sorry for intruding on our day. He was sort of nice.”

“When he weren’t flirting with your Daddy’s new beau, right?” Ryan mentioned with another chuckle, something which got him a scuff around the ear from Em.

“You know shit.”

“Swear jar!” Rosie remembered. Marshall sighed. 

“The two of you couldn’t be more obvious!” Ryan further endorsed, pointing between us now.

“Look, Marshall’s got a big fat crush, yeah. But me? I’m just here for the kid and the free food.” I teased, earning myself a round of laughs and an unimpressed stare from the man mentioned, “What?” I grinned at him.

“Mom and Dad are fighting.” Ryan quipped, transferring Em’s displeased look from me to himself. He held his hands up in mock surrender. 

Marshall turned back to face me, “You got it bad for me, e’ryone can see it.”

“Oh yeah, if you get real close and personal, maybe even use a microscope.” I snarked back, leaning against the table’s edge now.

I was gifted an eye roll in response, “We can get real close and personal–”

“Oh woah, hey now. Preschool toys present.” Ryan interrupted, reminding Marshall of the little ears listening in. 

“Yeah, Em.” I rubbed it in, smirking all the while.

“Yeah, Dad.” Rosie mimicked before she paused, “Hey, am I the preschool toy?”

Ryan’s next bout of laughter was also followed by another fit of coughing, but even so, Em and I still shared a secretive smile over the tops of their heads.

[eddieeddieeddieeeeee]

It's a Saturday morning when Eddie finally sits down to talk to Chris. 

He's not feeling particularly great, having been up until 3am the previous night googling things like 'how to come out to your kid', anxiously reading blogs and parenting articles and Reddit threads until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. He doesn’t exactly want to do this. He’s pretty sure he’s not ready, and he thinks he might throw up. But he also doesn’t want to die driving an Uber in El Paso when he could be in LA with Buck. And the road to that starts with being honest with Chris about this, now.

So Eddie finishes his coffee and heads into the living room. “Hey, can I talk to you about something? It’s kind of important.” 

“Can it wait?,” Chris asks. He's setting up to play Playstation and looks annoyed at being interrupted, which doesn't feel like a great start. 

“Uh, no not really, sorry,” Eddie says. He’s got to get this out now, even if he does throw up. At least he knows Chris will understand if he does.

He sits down on the couch and turns to Chris. "I know we've had some chats recently, about how you maybe don't love El Paso so much. How maybe there are things you miss about LA." Chris is giving Eddie his full attention now.

"And the truth is," Eddie says, "there are things I miss about LA as well." 

"Like what?," Chris asks. 

Eddie sighs. "Well. I miss my job. And the weather. And - Buck." 

"Right," Chris says quietly. "I miss Buck too."

"And you know," Eddie says because he really wants Chris to understand this, "you are more important to me than any of that. If you were happy here then I'd be happy here and I wouldn't even think about it." It's not quite true, but it's close enough.

"But what I'm thinking is, if you miss LA, and I miss LA, then maybe that's a sign that we should, um, be in LA."

Chris’s mouth quirks up a bit and Eddie’s heart soars. But he needs to get this off his chest first.

"Before you - there’s something I need to tell you first."

He wipes his hands on his jeans.

"I’ve had a lot of time to think, these last few months, being down here. Away from everything. About who I am, and what I really want. I’ve realised something, about myself. And I want to tell you because - I don’t want to lie to you. If we're going to go back to LA, if you want to, I want to be honest with you."

Eddie wonders if it's too late to back out of this now. His throat is hurting and there are tears in his eyes. He isn’t sure what he thinks is going to happen, but he’s terrified anyway. He can feel his heart rate picking up. He thinks he might be shaking a bit. 

Chris is looking at him with increasing concern, eyebrows drawing together, and Eddie doesn’t want to freak him out any more than is necessary. He looks down at the coffee table and forces himself to say it. Takes a deep breath and lets the words out with it.

“I’m gay.”

Chris doesn't say anything. Eddie looks up from the table, meets his eyes and says it again. "I'm gay." 

Chris doesn't look concerned anymore, just a bit confused. 

"Is that - is that it? What you wanted to tell me?"

Eddie feels slightly hysterical. Is that it? He's never said it out loud before, even to himself. It's not been long that he could even think it in his own head. "Yes," he says. "That's it."

Chris looks at him for a second and then shakes his head like he thinks Eddie's being stupid. Like he's on the verge of rolling his eyes. "Dad. It’s 2025. You’ve got loads of gay friends. Buck’s your best friend and he’s bi. It’s fine. Why are you so upset?," he asks.

He's fucking this up. Eddie feels ashamed all of a sudden. He doesn't want to make Chris think there's something wrong with being gay, which there isn't, it's just...always been different for him. 

Trying to course correct, he shakes his head. "I’m not. I’m not upset. I know it’s fine. It’s just… taken me a long time to understand it. It was hard. And I don’t want you to think that I didn’t - I loved your mom. I did." He has to stop. 

Chris doesn't say anything, he just looks at Eddie and nods. 

They sit in silence for a little bit and Eddie's just starting to wonder what to do next. He remembers something from one of the articles he'd read. "Do you... have any questions?," he asks, wildly unsure he'll have any answers if Chris does. 

Chris shrugs and says "So, are you going to start dating guys now?" Eddie coughs. "Um, I'm not sure - I'm not sure that's the most important part of it. I think maybe just figuring this out was the important thing, for now."

Chris considers this. "But you’re not going to date women anymore?," he asks.

"Well, no. That’s sort of the point."

Chris looks a bit relieved at that and Eddie guesses he can't really blame him. He’s relieved as well. 

"OK, well are you done?," Chris asks, gesturing towards his Playstation controller. 

Eddie feels a little lightheaded. Was that it? "Er - yes," he says, slightly awkwardly, and gets up from the couch. "Oh wait - what about... what did you think about LA? You don't have to answer now, just think about it OK."

Chris stops booting up the Playstation and looks at him. "Yes," he says, "I think we should go. We can go back to LA and you can be gay." He says it in a sort of funny movie trailer voice and Eddie can't help laughing. 

"When can we go?," Chris asks. If we left now we'd be back there by tonight Eddie's brain supplies, but he has to be practical. 

"I'm not sure, mijo. It could take a little while. We need sort out school for you, and figure out what to do about this place." 

"We could burn it down," Chris supplies. He hates this house. Almost as much as Eddie does.

Eddie laughs again. "Mmm," he says, scrunching up his face. "I'm a firefighter. I don't think it's going to help convince Bobby to give me my job back if I've just been arrested for arson and insurance fraud."

Chris sighs dramatically. "Fine, I guess." 

Chris turns his attention back to his game, and Eddie's nearly out the room when he says, "Oh hey - what did Buck say? About the gay thing I mean?"

"Oh well. I haven't - I haven't told Buck yet," Eddie says.

"How come?"

"I wanted to tell you first. Before I told anyone else." Even Buck. "And honestly - it feels like more of an in person conversation." Honestly, it feels like a conversation that might kill Eddie. Even hearing the words 'Buck' and 'the gay thing' in the same sentence has made him feel like he might have a heart attack.

"Hmm," Chris says. "I suppose." Eddie feels like he's judging him, but he's not sure what for.