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crescenthistory · 25 days ago

Note

did i hear you say you were writing another animagus!reader x regulus where they cuddle at hogwarts in each their cat forms? 🥺🥺

you know what they say, don't believe everything you hear... except for that, that's actually true

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, copious amounts of fluff, established relationship, bsf!remus, background wolfstar, reader and reg are kinda goody-two-shoes, platonic physical affection

Note: read more about cat!animagus!reader's shenanigans with reg, wolfstar and james here & here

Sweet Like Honey; Karma is a Cat

What a conundrum.

Remus should take this as an opportunity to be a good friend. You have spent almost two decades showing him exactly how to do that, playing the perfect part of the sister-he-never-had, loving and supporting him through life. For never turning your back on him, Remus is sure he owes you far more than what he can ever repay you, so he should try every single day. He should be a good friend.

But it was just too funny not to.

"At what point is it our duty to wake them up?" Sirius' voice whispered in his ear, shaking with mirth.

"I'm wondering the exact same thing." Remus dragged his words out to avoid making a decision. "How long do you think we can get away with?"

"I mean, they are already 15 minutes late to their Charms lesson, so we're dead men walking for not having said anything so far."

Remus is just able to tear his eyes away from you to glance sideways at Sirius, a too-fond smile already playing over his lips as he sees the exact mischievous look on his boyfriend's face that he expected. The look he fell in love with, not that Remus would be sappy enough to think about that right now. "So what you're saying is..."

"Leave it for a while longer?" Sirius grinned.

"Leave it for a while longer." Remus confirmed, whispering through a laugh, shifting his body further into Sirius' side as he lets his eyes fall back on you.

Well. On what he and Sirius knew to be you and Regulus, but what all other students in the library thought was just two cats sleeping in an armchair.

There was an elongated square of sunlight cast onto the middle of the seat by one of the beautifully decorated windows of the ancient castle, every cat's dream spot. The green velvet covering the seat of the mahogany chair was already riddled with fur from how long the two of you had been curled up around each other in it, white, grey and black hairs mixing together. Your forms might as well be mixing together too, fluid in a way that defied physics yet looked impossibly comfortable. Remus supposed you had to milk as much pleasure out of being an animagus as possible to make that whole mandrake leaf ordeal worth it. Though you could not answer even if he asked you right now, he was sure you at this very moment thought it was.

Remus' smile widened as he saw your chest rise dramatically as you breathed a sleepy huff, turning your head over slightly and burrowing it further into Regulus' plush neck. Your little cat bodies laid facing each other, arms around each other in a way he thought looked a little too much like a human hug.

It would be the absolute picture of serenity, two young things with no care in the world but each other – had it not been for the large clock ironically hanging right behind you, reminding you that you were not supposed to be here right now.

The four of you – five before James ran off the second he spotted red hair a few shelves back – had spent your two hours of shared free periods to read up together, for once actually doing a considerable amount of studying during it. Sirius was rubbing it in your faces, yours by consequence and Regulus' by design, that you still had one lesson left for the day when you abruptly stood up and demanded that you need a study break. When you then promptly dragged Regulus off into a corner, Sirius got the karma of a lifetime as he grew very concerned about what kind of break you would be engaging in. That was until the two cats lazily strolled back in and made themselves comfortable in the chair they now claimed as theirs.

Knowing you, Remus knew you hadn't intended on falling asleep, but maybe the fact that you did meant you really needed it. Yes, surely, you must have been exhausted and your body demanded a rest, so frankly he is quite an amazing friend for ensuring you listen to your health and your needs.

"Cats shouldn't be allowed to be that cute," Sirius all but grumbled as he looked at the two of them. "I should hate them on principle, but look at them Moony!"

"Quite literally no one is demanding that you hate cats on behalf of Padfoot, Siri."

"Padfoot is!" Sirius gave him a you can't argue with that logic look, but Remus knew he could.

"Ah, yes, my boyfriend the dog," he mused, cocking an eyebrow at Sirius who promptly reached out with his finger and pulled it back down.

"I could so give you a comeback to that, but I respect you too much not to say it in public," Sirius muttered and Remus couldn't fight his laughter.

Something moving in his periphery brought his attention back on you, seeing you shift even more into Regulus which caused him to begin stirring as well. Go back to sleep, go back to sleep, Remus whispered to you in his mind.

As always, you didn't listen to him, and ever so slowly Remus saw you peel one yellow eye open, blinking blearily at the room before turning your head back towards Regulus. The greyest of your four paws came up to gently pet at the black cat's neck, almost as if you were smoothing over the fur you had ruffled in your sleep. It made Remus' heart ache with love for you both, even as his stomach was slowly dropping.

A soft prrt! escaped Regulus before he instantly began purring and tightening his hold on you with his little cat paws, nosing his head against yours. A kind of softness Regulus rarely let himself fall into in public, though this was arguably a grey area.

It almost looked like you were about to be driven back into sleep by the vibrations moving through you from Regulus' chest. Remus noticed Sirius paying attention raptly as well, which was unfortunate.

Because when you shot up out of your seat with a small squeak, jumping as if startled as you looked towards the clock – now a good 30 minutes into your 45 minutes lesson – Sirius let out a loud bark of laughter. It earned him more than a few hushes from those around, but most importantly, it earned him your head snapping around to look at him with eyes that could rival a basilisk’s.

Considering Remus was already on a streak of making disloyal choices towards his loved ones, he didn't fight his instinct to stand up from his seat and back up when you ran and jumped onto the table right in front of Sirius' face with a hiss. You slapped at him with a clawless paw to which Sirius whispered something along the lines of "hey, knock it off, be cool" while trying to hold you at arm's length. You scowled at him as aggressively as any cat could, raising your back slightly before you arguably tut-ed at him and jumped back down.

Remus fought for his life to not laugh.

You turned around and ran over to Regulus who was still lazily stretching and gaining his bearings, not an ounce of care shown towards the near-assault of his brother. Nudging him with your head towards the end of the chair, he got the point and jumped down, already falling into his usual graceful mannerisms.

Together you scurried off back into your corner.

When you came back a mere minute later Remus swore there was no difference in your facial expression. Remus carefully walked around the table – where Sirius was still sitting with a petulant pout – hands up in surrender.

You crossed your arms, leaning your weight onto your right hip as you glared at your oldest friend, clearly expecting him to speak first. Behind you Regulus was strolling over, looking like he was trying really hard to be miffed but falling just short.

“How dare you,” you said – and it was a statement, not a question.

“In my defence,” Remus started, hands still up but so were the corners of his lips. “You two looked adorable.”

“That will surely hold up real well with the professor,” you scoffed.

“We didn’t make you fall asleep, princess,” Sirius grumbled to which you turned to him with a bitch please look Remus is fairly certain you picked up from Sirius.

“Apologies for expecting my friends to have my back. How stupid of me.”

“Very stupid indeed,” Sirius murmured as he took a sip of his coffee, grimacing when he found it to be cold. He nearly spilled some when Regulus gave him a light slap up the back of the head.

Remus figured it was time to pull out the big guns.

He manoeuvred his held up hands to be stretched out towards you instead with a rueful smile as he inched closer and closer. You had a moody expression still, eyeing him with suspicion, but you didn’t move out of the way. He dared make a small cooing sound as he brought you into a hug, coddling you like one would a child after they hurt themselves to keep them from crying.

“‘M super super sorry, lovie,” Remus half-muttered half-laughed into your hair as he rocked you a little bit. Your arms were still crossed against his chest, but you were leaning into him.

“Don’t believe you, Loopy.”

Regulus snorted at that and Remus looked up at him over his shoulder and the boys shared a look of humour and shared love for you that warmed his stomach. Though when Sirius nipped at Regulus’ sleeve to get his attention, the faux-miffed expression was plastered right back on the younger boy’s face.

Siblings, Remus thought and chuckled a bit into your hair.

“You laughing at me?” you questioned incredulously.

“No, I’m laughing at our boys.” His response was quick to rid himself of any further accusations.

You instantly nodded against his shoulder. “Understandable.”

“Hey! Don’t bring me into this, amour.” Regulus' chiding tone was met with you uncrossing your arms at last, reaching a hand out behind you blindly, which he immediately took and squeezed with his own.

You let your other arm curl around Remus’ back. Forgiveness at last.

He pulled back to look down at you with a goofy grin, and was pleased to see you could no longer contain yours either. “You were really cute. Didn’t want to disturb you.”

You gave him a look. “Right, no laughing at our expense whatsoever.”

“Never.”

You gave him a light shove while you snorted, pushing him away from you. “This is what I get for my sacrifice for you?” you said as you shook your head at him not much unlike McGonagall would during detention.

“I would argue you got a pretty sweet deal with that sacrifice, doll, seeing as you can curl up with your equally sacrificial boyfriend and sleep in the library whenever.” Sirius nodded solemnly, while jutting his chin towards Regulus. “This one would never let that happen in any other form.”

“Oh, I’m sure I could’ve convinced him,” you replied, looking at Regulus with an almost salacious smile. As if to prove your point – or just to prove Sirius wrong – he came up to stand closer behind you, arms going around your waist. You leaned your weight back against him with a happy sigh.

“Disgusting,” was all Sirius offered.

You raised an eyebrow at him before turning your head sideways to give Regulus a short, sweet kiss.

“Disgusting,” he groaned once more, pressing the backs of his palms into his eyes.

“Karma,” you and Remus sing-songed at him at the exact same time in the exact same tone.

Your eyes met in surprise before you both burst out laughing, any pretend fight seeping out of you as you both beamed at each other.

Siblings, Remus found himself thinking once more.

“Well, now that we don’t have a lesson to get to anymore, I suggest we get out of here,” Regulus sighed, squeezing your hips as if to underline his point.

“Where we heading?” Sirius asked as he swung his legs out to get up.

“I don’t know where you’re going,” you started. “But Remus will go hunt down a certain Head Boy and get him to make up some excuse to Professor Flitwick for why Regulus and I did not attend class so that our absence is removed from the records.” You put on your sweetest smile as you turned towards Remus at the last part.

“Regulus, what have you done with her?!” Sirius stage-whispered his accusation at Regulus who only responded with a certain impolite gesture.

“And why would James do that?” Remus drawls, certain that his entertainment was written all over his face.

“Oh, I’m sure he owes you for something, you figure it out.” You spoke as you tried to put your bag over your shoulder to leave, but Remus and Regulus both reached for it at the same time. They gave each other a look, trying to decide who will take the literal burden, before they both turned to Sirius and dropped the bag in his lap. He rolled his eyes at the both of them, but pulled the strap over his free shoulder nonetheless.

“You are quite the minx, aren’t you?” Remus asked, going for chiding and landing somewhere along the lines of compliance.

“Learned from the best, Rem!” you cheered brightly, pressing quick smacking kisses on both his and Sirius’ cheek.

Before they could muster up a response or a reaction, you had already hauled Regulus down the halls of the library towards the exit with half-heartedly hushed giggles. The raven-haired boy looked over his shoulder right before you turned the corner with a barely-contained smile, inhibitions straw thin in your presence.

Remus understood him well.

He turned to Sirius with a pleased smile to find him already admiring his reactions from where he stood beside him.

“I get why they’re cats,” Remus mused as he interlaced their fingers, following the general direction you ran off to, ready to hunt down James and possibly claw up some furniture.

“Because they’re adorable but also massive menaces?”

Remus breathed out contently. “Yeah.”

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entirelysein-e · 3 months ago

Text

『 Their hand slips 』

☼ synopsis: Their hand (almost) slips and puts a strain on your relationship

☼ characters: Toji, Yuuta, Inumaki

☼ wc: 4.3k

☼ cw: dark content! fem!reader, Toji being a good husband and almost snapping, getting pushed by Rika and slapped (accidentally during a playfight with Inumaki), Toge using his technique on you, overall sogginess, hurt to comfort

☼ notes: I am by no means glorifying domestic violence - this fic is not about this topic. If you or a loved one experience abuse in a relationship please reach out to the police or a qualified counselor / hotline for help!

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Toji:

Being with Toji has always been a rollercoaster of emotions but you never doubted his love for you, despite him being rough around the edges. Yes, he might disappear for days, sometimes weeks after a fight but he never once lifted his hand or indicated that he would physically hurt you. If the fight was over something dumb you would usually end up in the bedroom to get his anger out in a fun way while making up again.

You don't even know what started the fight today, was it the dishes he didn't do? Perhaps he left the laundry in the laundry machine? All you know is that you've been screaming at each other for well over an hour, your throat already sore but you wouldn't stop now. Toji was just beyond annoyed at your little tantrum, at least that's what it was to him. “I said I'll take care of it, didn't I? The day isn't over yet” he tried the calm way at first, his jaw clenching in frustration when you screamed back how tired you are from work.

Things carried on like this for a while, Toji losing his cool after you screamed at him right away and he started to scream back until you were only throwing around profanities. At least until you said something you shouldn't have “No wonder your last two wives left you, you live like a damn pig”. It wasn't too bad but it was a sore topic for him and his hand raised… simply staying up in the air without ever connecting to your face but it was enough for you to flinch away. Toji's jaw tensed up further, his teeth almost cracking from the pure pressure when he realized what he almost did - crossing a boundary that should never be crossed and you looked at him like he's a monster now. Perhaps he was and you were right, make it three wives, it's deserved now that his hand almost struck you.

Ever so slowly he brought his hand down from its spot up in the air, trying not to startle you further when he reached to cup your cheek, the anger in his eyes turning to desperation. Out of reflex you flinched from his touch, your body still in flight mode from almost getting struck by him and Toji recoiled his hand quickly while nodding to himself. The anger flamed up behind his eyes once again upon realizing just how bad he had fucked up. Anger rose up and he couldn't contain himself any longer “FUCK” he roared, making you stumble backwards just to get away from him before he punched a hole into the wall. You barely recognized the man in front of you since he'd never been this violent around you or directed at you. The thought of drawing a single breath of air scared you with him raging around and you simply held your breath, your entire body shaking like a leaf in a heavy storm, but before you found your voice again he stormed out of your shared home, grabbing his coat on the way out of the front door.

Relief was the first thing flooding your mind when you finally felt like you could exhale once again, the air less tense with him out of the room and upon looking around your usually tidy kitchen, you saw the battlefield he'd left behind. The hole in the wall gaping and your favorite candle holder, the one he gifted you simply because you thought the cat warming its paws looked so cute, now on the floor and shattered into hundreds of small pieces. You didn't care much for the cushions laying around or the chairs scattered across the room but you cradled the severed porcelain head of the small cat to your chest as you fell to your knees when the first wave of shock wore off. Toji had left. He's gone now and given how both of you crossed boundaries and he almost hit you, didn't give you much hope for his return. A bitter laugh crossed your sobs when you thought of the small candle holder scattered and how it represented your broken relationship.

After what felt like an eternity on the floor you had the courage to get up once again, slowly putting things back to where they used to stand before picking up each and every piece of Tojis present. You needed to get your mind off of his departure, he sure would return - latest when he had to get his things- you told yourself, trying to calm the mess that was your head. Dedicated you brought he pieces to the living room where his show was running as always, your favorite background noise in your daily life and piece by piece you glued the little candle holder back together until it looked somewhat what it used to and it gave you hope - perhaps you could do the same to your relationship?

Once the distraction wore off you found yourself sitting on the unusually empty couch, sitting on his favorite spot and the silence was deafening, the show stopped playing a while ago, Netflix asking you if you're still watching and the tears started to form in your eyes once again. Perhaps he will be back soon? Your hope wore thinner with every hour that has passed, only hoping that he will come back eventually one day at this point. Sure, you've had worse fights with him but it never got physical, this one felt much more charged and intense than all the others before so perhaps he's sick of the constant fighting, sick of you…

Slowly you sunk your face into the pillow on the couch and brought your knees to your chest as you wept, his show now playing once again to bring you at least a little comfort as you drifted off into a restless slumber, the moment where he almost struck you replaying in your head over and over again.

Toji wandered around the Block at first, contemplating to get drunk out o his mind and simply disappearing out of your life forever since he has nothing to offer to you but his heart and body, but now he wasn't sure if that was enough - if he was enough and he hated these thoughts. He could have any woman he wanted so why is he so damn attached to you? Answers didn't come by as he sat down in the park and gulped down a cheap beer but the longer he sat there the more reasons he found just why he was with you and how you made him feel things no one managed to ignite in so long. It was clear to him that he would need to go back, that he would need to fix things with you, for his own sake because he'd be lost without you once again.

By the time Toji got up from the old bench at the park it was almost morning already, the bird chirping softly in the trees and he took a deep breath in, preparing himself to lose you once and for all since he couldn't force you to forgive him after ever but he would promise to be better, he vowed to be a good partner and later on to be a good husband to you and not once did he make you regret trusting him since he was always nothing but good to you. His posture was slightly slouched when he entered the apartment, ready to find the mess he left behind in the kitchen but it looked as if nothing ever happened here - aside from the hole in the wall that felt like a plow to his guts. That could have been your face, realization setting in once again over what happened and how badly he damaged the trust in this relationship with his cowardly reaction.

Shaking his head at his thought he made his way back to the front door, only to be met by your weak voice somewhere behind him. “Toji?” was all you asked, your voice sounding tired and so fragile from hours of crying and he flinched, dreading your next words. “Don't leave… please,” You continue and sit up now to look at him. “I'm just here to get my thi- you want me to stay?” He sounded rather surprised that you didn't send him out, cussing him and his entire bloodline out as he got his things. Toji was so prepared for rejection he didn't even consider you would want him to stay, but you did, so he dragged himself over to the couch where you sat, waiting to face him. Your bloodshot eyes shocked him, have you been crying all night over him? Over the situation or perhaps the divorce you'd surely want?

“I'm sorry,” was all that he croaked out, his ego crushed and the confidence that usually radiated off of him was entirely gone, he was nothing but a miserable pile in front of you in this moment. It took you a minute or two to fully register his words - his apology and you simply nodded, knowing he wasn't great with words and especially apologies. Silence fell upon both of you once again, unsure how to go on from here, both of you uncomfortable with the situation. You were the first to find your words again, having spent the night thinking about what you wanted and ultimately what you will say to him but right now this was all thrown out of the window when you looked at him and reached out for his hands, trying to show that you're no longer scared.

“Listen to me. If you ever raise a hand to me again, Toji Fushiguru, I will cut out your heart and eat it for breakfast, do you understand me?” You asked with a much more secure voice and it almost scared him because he knew you took that threat seriously, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips now. “That's my wife,” he chuckled a little, wondering if he extinguished your flame with fear but you weren't one to crumble, not from him or his foolish actions.

Unasked Toji whisked you up into his strong arms and carried you to the bedroom, refusing to let go of you for even a second as he smothered you between his arms and chest. Things weren't okay and they won't be for a while but at least you knew that he was willing to work on himself and you were willing to stay, so things could be alright again one day.

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Yuuta:

You were always Yuuta's first priority and he never failed to make it clear that you knew that there's no one and nothing that's more important to him than you. Yet he had to save the world as usually, exorcizing a curse here, helping out there and more often than not you found yourself alone in your shared home, talks limited to texts and phone calls. He tried his hardest to make sure you're always on his mind even if he's not physically with you, especially then but you slowly felt like this wasn't the case. It felt like he was running away from home, from you to be alone, to be with Rika rather than you for the old days sake.

This gut wrenching thought became especially painful when you ran into him in the grocery store when he claimed to be on the other side of the world and not in fact in the same grocery store or even the same city. You didn't want to cause a scene, not there out of all places so you abandoned your shopping cart and walked out, ignoring the hurt puppy look from your boyfriend. Dropping the chocolates he held previously he charged after you “Wait, please. Let me explain!” he called after you and caught up with your rather fast pace but you didn't pay any attention to him, fearing the worst.

And sometimes your own mind can be the worst enemy as you now convinced yourself that Yuuta was leading some sort of double life, a secret life hidden away from you and you didn't want to see his face for a second longer. When the young man held onto your wrist to get you to stop running from him it felt as if your skin was burning, quickly tugging your hand out of his grasp and glaring at him. “Stop causing a damn scene, Okkotsu” you hissed under your breath and Yuuta knew he was in trouble by the way you only used his last name, so much venom behind your words. All he wanted to do was surprise you with your favorite flowers and some sweets since he was home almost an entire week earlier and he didn't understand the tantrum you were throwing at that moment. Yes, he did lie to you and told you he won't be home for at least another 5 days but he was already on his way back to you, his home. Was he wrong that he wanted to surprise you just to have you jump into his arms five days earlier than initially planned?

The walk home was awkward and silent, the air around you two charged with strong emotions and unspoken words - words none of you dared to speak until the front door to your apartment was closed and you whipped around, facing him with an expression full of anger and hurt. “Why did you lie to me? Am I not good enough for you anymore?” You immediately asked, letting your inner fear take over instead of trying to think rationally but Yuuta immediately shook his head. “It's not like that, I promise!” His voice was rather submissive, hating to have fights with you, especially out of the dumbest reasons but you couldn't contain your anger, your presence alone making him take a step back. He knew you would never lay a hand on him but the air around you was so thick he feared to suffocate if he couldn't keep some distance. “Don't come at me with that bullshit, Yuuta. You promised not to lie to me and here you are… avoiding me despite being back. Do you have someone else? Do you miss Rika so much you can't bear to be with me?” You questioned, taking steps towards your boyfriend despite his silent plea to keep distance. It's unfair of you to bring Rika up in this situation, both of you knew this but you didn't care. The way he was always talking about her started to gnaw at your heart, slowly building a deep insecurity that you're just someone he settled for because he couldn't have the one he wanted. Perhaps he found a better replacement? That was your initial thought when you saw him smiling to himself at the grocery store. Little do you know he was thinking about your gleeful smile when he came home early.

Yuuta barely opened his mouth after what felt like an eternity of silence when he reached for your hands, hoping you let him explain, hoping you calm down enough to start thinking rationally. “Please, just listen, okay?” He started, his voice small since he didn't want things to escalate, fearing to lose you as much as you feared the same. You were his anchor, his safety vest out in the ocean that kept him afloat when everything was against him. He made the mistake of touching you, trying to get closer to you when you were so charged and it made you feel crowded, pushing him off of you so he let go of your wrists. He would have let go if only you asked, showing him he made you uncomfortable but before he could stop it, it was already too late.

Rika pushed you away from him, much harsher than he would have ever allowed and he recoiled, backing away from your curled up body after you were sent flying against the wall, several feet behind you.

The sight of your body on the floor and the little noise you let out upon the collision shattered his heart. Sure, Rika just wanted to protect him from harm but you would have never seriously hurt him and he was in shambles, trying to figure out what to do now that one of his biggest fears became reality. It took you a few seconds to realize what had just happened, just sitting up and blinking at Yuuta who looked paler than usual, his body frozen to the spot as he watched you with wide eyes. The way you looked around made him aware of how dizzy you must feel since your head hit the wall - at least there was no blood on your hands when you checked the back of your head reluctantly.

“Yuuta?” You asked him as you teared up, knowing that it was just an accident. The young man snapped out of his trance-like state upon hearing your voice, softly asking him for comfort but he couldn't give that to you, not if he was the one who hurt you in the first place.

His head snapped around, looking for a way out of there, perhaps he could jump out of the window or would it be too high? The sound of his heartbeat picking up was deafening, the only thing he heard in that moment and it only fueled the anxiety further. But it was your utterly desperate voice calling out to him once again that snapped him out of his fight or flight reaction, panicked eyes finally looking at your teary ones and his body reacted on its own. Without a further moment passing he dropped to his knees beside you and cradled your body in his arms, holding you close. You knew he didn't hurt you and it was just a reaction of Rika so you weren't angry, but your body still hurt as you wept into his embrace, body trembling with each sob that wrecked through it. “I'm so sorry my love” kept falling off his lips like a whispered mantra as he gently rocked you back and forth in his arms in hopes that it's enough to calm both of you down - even if it's just a little bit.

Hours later and neither of you had moved. You were still cradled in Yuuta's lap, arms wrapped securely around you and he still looked at you as if he just broke the most valuable thing he ever owned. “I’m sorry that I made you angry,” you eventually broke the silence that just felt heavy to you but he quickly shook his head “don't… it's not your fault I lost control,” he began and kissed your temple, his lips resting against your delicate skin for a moment before you felt them move as he continued to speak. “I should have told you I'm home earlier, the flowers would have been a surprise regardless, I'm sorry I made you doubt my love for you.” He whispered against your temple, earnest regret in his voice. Yuuta knew he was gone too much lately and if the roles were reversed he would have had doubts as well so he couldn't blame you.

Unsure how to answer, you nod softly and your hands clutch onto him just a little tighter. “We will make things better,” you eventually mumble, reassuring the both of you that despite what has happened, things will be okay again and you can work past this accident.

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Inumaki:

You never felt scared or threatened by Inumaki, he was always more than sweet to you and despite his cursed speech you never feared anything. He fell in love with you the day he found out you learned sign language for him and hasn't left your side ever since. You two were inseparable to the point of his friends automatically speaking of the both of you instead of just an individual and it was you who understood his few words better than anyone.

Laughter echoed through his small apartment when he pinned you to the bed with just one hand, the other traveling down to your sides to tickle you. Your laughter was one of his favorite noises, your smile his favorite sight and he wished he could tell you, scream out how much he loves you but he would never dare to say such things out loud, scared it manipulates you somehow and you're with him against your will. That was his worst nightmare, one that often haunted him at night and he woke up distressed while frantically searching for his phone. It's the same over and over again “You're with me because it's what you want, right?” He texts and awaits your answer as he picks the skin on his fingers anxiously. “I’m with you because my heart chose you” you tell him every time before his phone even unlocks - already knowing what plagues his handsome head.

Your sweet giggle brought him back to the little play fight you two just had and the way you were trying so hard to overpower him despite knowing you would never succeed. This thought never scared you, since you knew he would never use it against you or hold you down when you wouldn't want it. It was all just playful banter until he wanted to catch your wrist after you freed it but miscalculated, sending his hand right against your cheek with such strength the slap echoed off the walls followed by your whimper. You didn't need to push him off of your body, Inumaki got up right away, the tears that started to form in your eyes causing him to panic slowly. He frantically tried to sign “I'm sorry it was an accident” over and over but it felt like his hands knotted up by the speed and you didn't look at him, turning away as the tears started rolling down your cheeks. You weren't mad at him, knowing it was an accident but it still hurt you - the tears only a reaction of your body to the stinging pain that traveled through your face.

But the way you refused to even look towards him frustrated the young man and despite his efforts to get your attention you simply rose from the corner of the bed and left the room. Of course he was chasing after you, tapping you, holding your wrist, whining… he tried so hard to get just a sliver of your attention when you clearly didn't want to give that to him right now and he felt wrongfully punished. “Stop crying and come here” these words slipped past his lips with such desperation, he couldn't even stop himself before saying them out loud and his hands slapped over his mouth the second he realized what he'd done.

No matter how hard you tried to stop yourself, your body acted on its own accord as the tears dried and your feet walked over to him. Your face was one of utter shock and betrayal that he would do this to you, accident or not.

Inumaki pulled your body close and held you in a tight embrace despite every fiber in his body screaming not to do it, it felt so wrong to him but he needed you to forgive him, for accidentally hurting you, for putting you through manipulation. When he pulled back he was met with your face full of hurt and anger, which he deserved. “Please hit me back. We can be even” he signed once, twice… but you looked away, pinching the bridge of your nose as you took a step back to put some space between the white haired man and yourself. You wanted to scream, to explode at him but you collected yourself and looked at him with a cold expression. “Can you just stop?! I don't care that you hit me,” you started but lost your cool quickly and it came out more snappy than intended “we were play fighting, it happens. But you can't just crowd me and demand me to do things… and you surely can't fucking manipulate me!” Your voice rose in volume at the last part since this hurt you more than the accidental hit to your face.

Inumaki looked at you like a kicked puppy, eyes big and his face sinking into the collar of his sweater further so he can hide. He was beyond ashamed for his actions and didn't want to speak, the desperation clouding his mind and forgetting for just a split second that his words have immediate consequences and despite his best effort of not speaking, he can mess up.

With trembling hands he started signing apologies, begging for your forgiveness over and over until his shoulders started trembling and in a last effort he signed words unclear but you knew what he meant “please hold me” You whispered as he signed it and sighed. Realizing that he's more affected by this than you were and that he really had no malicious intentions you pulled your lover close, comforting him and yourself as his arms wrapped around you tightly, hands clutching to the fabric of your shirt. “Love” he mumbled out aloud, knowing this one word won't make you do anything but it was the first time you heard him say that he loves you out aloud. “I love you too” you whispered back, cheek still aching from the way his hand slipped but right now your heart needed healing from the betrayal of getting manipulated. Both, you and Toge were sure that this was a cut in your relationship but the bond you shared will act as a bandaid and you will be okay again, especially since he will be more careful now.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

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sleepymarimo · 4 months ago

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toji x fem!reader // sfw! a little meet cute moment with some sprinkles of sadness synopsis: reader cleans and maintains abandoned graves, including that of toji's late wife.

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 doesn’t visit his late wife’s grave often, if ever.

it’s easy to say that it’s because he doesn’t care, that he’s lost all respect for the world and those on, or buried beneath it. yet, the reality is that he’s ashamed, a bit of a coward. how could he face her again? how could he read the letters of her name knowing he’d been unable to grant the one request she’d given him? take care of megumi.

he doesn’t know why he’s walking in the direction of the cemetery, an old, surely run down patch of land that’s now nestled between some homes just outside of shinjuku.

maybe the weight of his most recent job gets to him. maybe it’s nearing what would’ve been their anniversary. maybe the weather reminds him of her funeral, in which him and baby megumi were the only attendees.

a rock gets kicked a good few meters away as he remembers that day. her family had cut her off after she’d married him, seeing nothing good coming out of their future, feeling disdain at the mention of their daughter marrying man with not a thing to his name. toji scoffs. perhaps they were right.

the overcast sky does nothing for the scenery ahead, which consists of old, rusted cemetery gates and a wall made of dull, greyed stones.

however, a splash of color stands out against the monochrome background. it’s all instinct, the way his senses hone in, but it’s not because you’re the only other person in the cemetery, not because your colored scarf makes you particularly identifiable.

no, it’s because you, a stranger, are standing in front of his wife’s grave.

despite the numerous leaves on the ground, the rather quiet environment, you don’t hear him approach.

you’re focused on your task, your brows ever so slightly knitted, a bristly brush in your hand which you use to scrub away at any debris wedged between the letters of this grave. dust, mud, leaf litter… it gets removed with each gentle movement.

a bottle of cleaner is in your other hand, spraying the stone every now and then when it gets too dry or when a particularly stubborn piece of debris refuses to be erased from existence.

one little stain catches your attention, so much so that you ignore how the autumn wind nips at your cheeks. it’s just about removed. a little more, a little more…

“what are y’doing?”

a small gasp leaves you, or maybe you choke on air, and your hands retract from the gravestone as if you’d been burned. you take a couple of steps back, a natural response, wanting to put some distance between you and whoever else has decided to join you in the cemetery.

the sudden move results in you kicking over your coffee cup, your mind a mess as you crouch down and keep it from spilling any further. you put your tools away, too, placing the brush and spray bottle into a tote containing a few other items.

toji doesn’t mean to intimidate or scare you.

it’s just… how he is. it’s in the energy he carries, how he presents himself to the world that’s done him more harm than good. he’s suspicious of you, reasonably so.

when you finally stand and look up at him, he can see the anticipation in your eyes. your hands fidget, unsure of whether to retreat into your pockets or rise in self defense.

“i’m so sorry,” are your immediate words, sincere. “i didn’t know she had visitors.”

she.

why are you talking about her like you were a part of her life? toji is sure he’s never met you before. he doesn’t remember his late wife saying a thing about weirdos who hang out in cemeteries, either.

those green eyes of his narrow, just a bit. he doesn’t have to say anything more, his stance is enough. you haven’t answered his question and he isn’t going to ask again.

“i, um, clean graves,” you answer after a few heartbeats, a little put off by his stare. “i’ve been coming by for the past year, clean up every month or two. i usually wait and make sure no one comes by. i thought it was abandoned, i’m so sorry.”

the situation isn’t entirely new to you. it’s not the first time you’d been ‘caught’, and the reactions you’ve gotten have ranged from grateful to furious, but it’s jarring each time. how could it not be? you’re not a fool, you know these people meant something to someone, that they represent more than the headstones ever could.

your eyes remain on his, equal parts apologetic and bashful, clearly genuine.

toji’s posture relaxes, just a bit.

a part of that has to do with the smidge of guilt he feels. abandoned. he couldn’t be surprised. after all, he never visited, never paid for cleaning services.

perhaps a normal person would say thank you, but the words fizzle out on his tongue. he’s not one for such words, or at least that’s what he tells himself.

“it’s fine,” he ends up saying, curt, to the point, not giving away the extent of what he’s thinking or feeling.

even those two words have you feeling relieved, a long sigh leaving your lips. you can’t deny that you’re itching to leave, still a little unnerved. being alone with a strange man in a cemetery isn’t exactly on your bucket list, so you reluctantly reach down and grab your things.

your bag gets slung over your shoulder, but your coffee… well, you’re pretty much left with an empty cup now. the liquid had spilt all over the concrete floor when he’d spooked you earlier.

“i’ll leave her alone,” you promise him, truly not looking to cause any conflict. “sorry again…”

for a second, toji considers leaving it at that.

his eyes drift from you to your empty cup. he should feel bad, should be a decent person, but can’t find it in himself to reassure you.

he needs a nudge, and that nudge is given to him in the form of an acorn falling from the tree rooted over his wife’s grave.

the small object hits him right on the head, reprimanding him for his actions. toji grunts, his hand coming up to rub at the spot where the damn thing whacked him. he should’ve sensed it, should’ve been aware of its existence as soon as it snapped off the branch.

his eyes look up toward the sky, almost glaring, and for a second he can almost hear her voice, scolding him.

“don’t be mean, toji!”

with a click of his tongue, he looks back at you. you, who’d taken care of his wife in death as he’d cared for her in life.

inhaling, he decides to screw it all and take a step toward you. maybe being a decent human wouldn’t kill him. maybe.

“look, i didn’t mean to freak you out or make you spill your drink,” it’s the closest thing to an apology he’ll give, but it’s better than nothing.

he recognizes the logo on your cup, then nods his head toward the cemetery gates. “let me at least buy you a new one,” he offers, though by the sound of it, it’s quite clear he wants to do this for you. “what’s your name, anyway?”

you tell him, then he gives you his.

the sun starts to burn away at the clouds, warming the earth just as you’re about to leave the cemetery. things grow a little brighter, a whole shift in the atmosphere.

toji doesn’t comment on the gust of wind ushering you two out of the gates, the rustle of leaves which could pass as a hushed cheer. no, he won’t say anything, not even if the breeze on his back feels like the hands of his late wife, pushing him toward something new.

his eyes flicker down, watching you, noting the curve of your cheeks and the slope of your nose. he shakes his head, steels his heart, ignoring the small jump it does as you look back at him.

no, he won’t say anything, not at all.

#toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fluff #toji x reader #i rlly like this one i cant lie #lowkey inspired by that one tik tok account of the person who goes around cleaning abandoned graves #yet again I must ask: do we see the vision

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moonstruckme · 10 months ago

Note

also i LOVE your poly!marauders apocalypse au (so creative btw!! i'm obsessed!!) and would be so down to read something in that universe where the reader gets hypothermia or something like that hehe !!!! <333333

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: mild hypothermia

apocalypse poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You keep tripping, which is mildly embarrassing. You think it’s a combination of fatigue and the general numbness that’s pervaded your body even through the layers you’d put on when you’d packed up the campsite that morning. You’d all agreed that, with the death eaters on your trail, it’s really only safe to stay in one area for a few days at a time, even with all the protections you place around your sites. But that means days where, instead of lounging around your tent, listening to the radio and plotting for the Order, you use all the daylight you have to hike through the wintry woods until you’re far enough away to set up another camp.

Sirius glances back when you stumble again, the toe of your boot catching on a branch you hadn’t seen buried in the snow. It’s a more dramatic affair than it should be, and you barely get your other foot out in front of you fast enough to avoid face-planting into the leaf litter.

Your shivering worsens as another gust of wind burns your face, making your thick jacket feel like mesh. You think this has to be the worst moving day your group has had yet. The cold is the same, but the sun hasn’t so much as peeked from behind the clouds all day and the wind makes it nearly unbearable. The snow is thick enough that you’ve started stepping in the boys’ footprints to save energy. One of the many perks of taking up the rear.

You nearly hit Sirius when he stops in front of you.

“This clearing looks about as good as any,” James is saying, but Remus looks hesitant.

“I don’t know,” he frets. “Do you think it’s far enough? We’ve been slow today.”

“You’re tired,” James says kindly. You look at Remus, noting his slouched posture, the weariness he’s never quite learned to hide from his expression. You’re not sure how you didn’t notice his exhaustion before. You’re usually more aware of those things. “And it’s horrid out here. Let’s just call it a night, and if you’re still anxious about it tomorrow we’ll go a bit further.”

“I can make it further tonight.”

“It’s not all about you, Moony,” Sirius drawls. He looks especially monochrome against all the fresh white snow, you think. His superblack hair is as eye-catching as neon. “I’ve got a rock in my shoe I’d love to get out, and I know y/n’s knees have to be black and blue from the way she’s been falling for the past hour.”

His scheme works; Remus looks to you, arguments of his own fortitude forgotten. “Are you tired, dove? You want to stop?”

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess. It’s cold.”

Suddenly all three boys seem focussed intently on you. You’re not sure why. You don’t actually recall much of what you’d been talking about.

“Could you say that again?” James asks you. His brows are stitched together and his eyes have gone all sharp behind his glasses.

“I just said it’s cold.”

“Why’re you talking like that, doll?” Sirius takes a step toward you, then looks to Remus. “Why is she slurring?”

“I don’t know,” Remus says softly. He’s looking at you weird, too. Frowny. “Yeah, let’s set up. Maybe she just needs a rest.”

James spells the tent up quickly, then makes Remus stay and sit with you while he and Sirius set up the protections and everything else. The temperature inside the magical tent is cozy. Remus lights a fire in the grate to warm you all up.

“Do you feel okay, lovely?” he asks, helping you out of your jacket. You sit on the bed, working off your shoes.

“Yeah, just…just really tired.”

He furrows his eyebrows, placing a palm on your cheek. You have no clue how it’s so warm, but a sigh escapes you as you lean into the touch.

“When did you start tripping?” he asks you.

You…you’re not sure. You can’t remember the first time it happened. How long had you been walking?

Your bemusement must show on your face, because Remus’ mouth pinches. His hand slides down to cup your face, fingers pressing oddly into your jaw. Frankly, you could care less where he puts them so long as he keeps touching you.

“Feeling better?” James asks, materializing behind Remus. You’re not sure which one of you he’s talking to, but you hum contentedly anyway.

“I think she might be hypothermic,” Remus doesn’t look away from you as he talks, his eyebrows lowered like he’s waiting for you to answer a question you don’t remember him asking. His fingers press harder into your neck. “Her pulse is…scary weak.”

James looks at you, and you look at Remus.

“You really think so?” you ask him, befuddled. “I don’t feel…I’m only tired.”

“Hypothermia makes you tired,” he tells you gently. “And you’re slurring your words, love.”

You feel an icy tendril of fear snake around your spine. “I am?”

“You’re alright.” James catches onto your panic quickly, leaning over Remus to give your shoulders a bolstering squeeze. “Let’s just get some of these layers off you, and then we’ll swaddle you in blankets.” He starts easing off your jumper, leaving you in just your undershirt. You’re newly cognizant of the sluggishness of your movements as you raise your arms to help him. “Once you sit by the fire for a bit, you’ll be feeling back to normal in no time.”

You nod numbly, lifting your bum to tug off the jeans you’d worn over leggings. James takes the blanket from the bed and wraps it around you while Remus goes to find more in the other room.

“Poor love,” James coos, dropping a kiss to your head. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”

“No duh,” Sirius says, the tent flap letting in a blast of cool air behind him. “It’s fucking freezing out.”

James offers him a sorry smile. “We think she’s got hypothermia.”

Sirius sobers, stormcloud eyes flickering to you. “Shit, really? How bad is that?”

“Not too bad, I don’t think,” Remus says, nudging past him with a stack of blankets in his arms. “I mean, it’d be great if I’d thought to bring any books on that sort of thing, but I’m fairly sure if it were bad she’d be more confused and a bit…blueish.” He drapes a blanket over your shoulders, letting James pull it tighter and tuck it about as he wishes. “Do you feel any better?”

“I think so,” you say quietly. It’s a bit unnerving to be at the center of so much alarm like this. You do feel better being out of the cold, but you’re not sure if that’s what he’s asking. “It’s a little hard to tell.”

“You don’t seem like you’re slurring as badly,” James evaluates. He cups the back of your neck, planting a kiss on the frozen tip of your nose. “I think you’re getting better already, lovie.”

Your face certainly feels warmer.

Sirius grins at your flustering, though it’s dampened by worry. “What about a hot chocolate?” he asks, tone unusually gentle. “Does that sound like it might help?”

“I’m fine,” you say, and he disregards you immediately, posing the same question to Remus.

“Would that help?”

Remus shrugs. “It could. Doubt it would hurt. James, love, I think she’s got enough blankets.”

James frowns, peering through the layers of covering to find your face. “Do you feel warm enough, angel?”

You blink, owlish. “I think so?”

He shakes his head. “Sounds far from certain. More blankets it is. Sirius, get started on the hot chocolate.”

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catnipaddictt · 5 months ago

Text

picnic

clone wars!anakin x gn!reader

synopsis: a sunny picnic day with Anakin!

wc: 0.9k

cw: none, this is just fluff, kisses

The soft fabric of the checkered picnic blanket lay under your thighs as you sat, staring at the view in front of you. Rays of light reflected off the surface of the crystal water, making it shimmer in the early afternoon sun. Wildflowers in shades of violet and red dotted the grass, making the scene even more picturesque.

Next to you lay Anakin, eyes closed and basking in the sunlight. He had forgotten his Jedi robes, opting for a pair of swim-shorts and no shirt. The heat of summer had been beating down upon the two of you since the morning, and you had decided that a lunch time picnic was just the thing you, plus your secret lover, needed.

It had taken considerably less convincing than you thought for Anakin to leave his post and spend the rest of the day with you. He had basically jumped at the opportunity to pack a lunch of fresh fruit and pastries, and met you down at the water's edge. Anakin had less and less spare time on his hands as the clone wars waged on in the outer rim, but he had been given a few days of light duties on Naboo. A task that wasn't really needed but a nice break from the hectic battlefields of distance planets.

Feeling full from the delicacies you had eaten, you lay back next to Anakin, taking a leaf out of his book and letting the sun flick at your skin. You would have thought Anakin to be asleep, if it wasn't for the winding of his pinky around yours. He had always been obsessed with having at least a little bit of skin on skin contact with you.

After half an hour your thoughts drifted to the clear water of the lake and the refreshing temperature of the water. Tugging on Anakin's hand you stir him. “Swim please?” You request as his blue eyes blink open, adjusting to the bright light. He nods in agreement, getting to his feet and pulling you up with him.

Hand in hand you make your way to the shore of the expanse of water. Wadding in up to your knees you turn to look at Anakin and the look on his face. He lets go of your hand before pushing out further, until he has to kick his legs to keep afloat. You watch as he moves around, lying on his back, droplets of water rolling off his toned chest.

You steadily make your way out to him, calling out to make sure he doesn't swim off. Eventually reaching him, he takes hold of your waist with one hand, smiling at you. “This was a good idea” he says “I've missed this, spending time with you I mean.”

“I've missed you too Ani, the Jedi work you too hard” you reply, a hint of sadness in your voice. “hey, don't think about that right now, okay? It's just us right now, none of the council problems exist here.” Anakin speaks in a soft tone, letting you hold onto his shoulder as he talks. He is right, you shouldn't be worrying about his responsibilities as a Jedi knight right now, instead you just need to focus on the moment. “Your right” you return before he gives you an amused grin; “I'm always right”

You playfully splash some water in his face, to which he does the same to you, leading to the two of you pushing water pulling apart to push water at the other. Anakin doesn't play fair as per usual, and uses the force to splash you from all sides. When the splashing comes to an end you both laugh and declare that there will be a rematch next time you visit the glistening waters of the lake.

Anakin swims the few feet that divide you too,pulling you close to him and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead then your lips. You return his affections before you both decide to dry off back at the picnic blanket.

Once out of the water, Anakin throws you one of the towels you had packed and you use it to wipe off the water that runs down your frame. He does the same before you both resume your lying down on the blanket. This time your head on his chest, while his fingers wrap around your smaller ones.

As the afternoon wears on, you can feel tiredness from the day's activities wash over you, Anakin feeling the same way prompting you to pack up your belongings and make the trek back to the city of Naboo. You both sneak into the town, mindful to avoid prying eyes that could rat you and Anakin's relationship out. You let out a sigh of relief once you reach the palace, weaving through the many corridors adorned with beautiful wallpaper. Before you part your respective ways, Anakin pulls you in for a tight embrace, placing even more kisses over your face.

“I'll come see you tonight, okay?” He confirms, looking into your eyes. Nodding in reply, you give his hand one last squeeze before you pull away, and make your way to your room, slipping inside the door.

You can't wipe the smile off your face as you return your bits and bobs to their rightful places. Anakin always makes you feel lighter, and his promise of his return to you tonight makes you grin harder. If there is one thing you are certain of, it is that you would be spending many more afternoons entangled with Anakin along the sunny shores of Naboo's brightest lake.

I straight up haven't written in like 3 weeks as I've been super busy but hopefully I will get back into the swing of things soon! If you want to be added to the taglist lmk!

taglist: @qvnthesia @ysrjune @anisscarletstarlet @inneedsoffanfics @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @anakinstwinklebunny

#star wars #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin x you #revenge of the sith #the clone wars #tcw #sw tcw #tcw anakin

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ang3lofsmalldeath · 2 years ago

Text

blurb of steve harrington x reader having a daddy kink (minors DNI; not proofread)

maybe it was the warmth of steve’s heated pool or the sips of rosé you had rushing to your brain, but you couldn’t stop the fluttering in your tummy as you watched steve play basketball with the younger teens in his pool. you certainly couldnt stop the feeling when robin swam up to sit with you on the pool steps and pointed out steve’s behavior, “ugh look at dingus… god he’s gonna be such a good dad one day- it’s kinda annoying.” of course, you couldn’t help but agree with her, a dreamy sigh slipping out of your month while steve dunked dustin under the water, and you had begun imagining him with a lil fluffy-haired babe of his own. robin clocked the way you were looking at steve, “don’t you agree?” she questioned as you quickly nodded your head, “oh i see- you wanna be the one to make him a daddddyyy!” teasing you in that sing-song voice, making you simply giggle in return, trying to ignore the warmth that flushed to your cunt thinking about steve as a daddy.

one of the best things about your relationship with steve is that he almost always can tell how you are feeling, he can read you like a book. so you weren’t shocked that he immediately could tell what you needed when you wrapped your arms around him, basically hugging him from behind as he cleaned the grill, clad in just his yellow crewneck over your damp bikini to fight the nip of the wind. at this point, everyone had left so he felt no shame as he put his arm around your shoulder, pulled you into his side, and stared at your glassy puppy-dog eyes. breathlessly chuckling, he pressed a chaste kiss on your forehead, “i know, honey, i know.”

once you got inside, steve all but carried you to his bedroom, both of you loving the way he manhandled you, as you pressed small pecks on his jaw and cheeks. “are you feeling needy, baby, huh?” he teased, turning the knob on his door, noticing the way your hips were trying to hump his. you could whimper and squirm in response as steve sat down on his bed with you in his lap. you were both so turned on, and still a lil tipsy, so it wasn’t a surprise when you ended sinking down on his throbbing cock, his hands on your waist, within a few minutes. “o’shit baby, yeah there you go, my good girl. jus’ the tip, ok, don’t hurt yourself baby- god you’re so fuckin wet,” steve couldn’t help his whines and moans as you trembled like a leaf around him, cockdrunk trying to take him deeper. “hnghhh-oh! i-i ca- cant-s’good daddy”. you didn’t catch the petname slipping past your lips, but steve did. stopping you from sinking any further, he stilled your hips and grabbed your face by squishing your checks “what did u call me, honey?” of course you were beyond embarrassed, but with his steady grip in your face you had nowhere to run. “i’m s’sorry! i didnt mean to i-it jus’ slipped out-” you felt stupid and small and you couldn’t control the tears dripping from your eyes. “aw, sweetheart, it’s okay, dont be embarrassed. i jus’ wanted to know why you want to call me that. y’know ill give you whatever you ask for, angel”. you stopped your sniffling, and shifted your eyes to nervously connect with steve’s, basically whining out “ ‘s just-robin asked me if i was ever gonna make you a dad, ‘n’ i cant help imagining it- you take such good care of all of the group now, and well… me so i jus’ couldnt stop thinkin’ about it”

steve could say he was surprised but, he wasn’t. at heart, he was a caregiver through and through, and that carried into your relationship to an extreme. there was a hint of casual dominance in everything he did for you. tying your shoes, carrying you around, bathing you in the shower or bath, keeping your hands warm in his pocket, making you meals, feeding you when you were to weak, kissing you to sleep everynight, etc,. and to be honest, he blushed to the thought of you wanting his babies as bad as he wanted to give them to you.

“aw, peach,” he cooed grabbing your face and slowly thrusting into you, watching you contort your pout into a gasp, “you’re s’sweet, love, one day, you’re gonna let me put a baby in you, hm? yeah but until, i’ll just be your daddy, you can have me all to yourself, how ‘bout that, honey?” you rapidly nodded your head with your eyes pinched, whimpering and whining about how good it felt and how deep he was, as you began to match his thrusts, slowing building a steady pace as he went further and further inside you. “my shy, dumb lil baby, huh? put daddy’s cock in you and you can’t respond t’me? that’s okay, my girl, my good girl, just let your head go empty and daddy will do all the work, gonna make this soaked, pretty pussy cum all over me.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington brainrot #steve harrington smut #smutty stevie #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington thot #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve stranger things

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hellishjoel · 1 year ago

Text

scream queen

6.6k / pairing: ghostface!joel miller x f!reader

← masterlist

summary: A stalker outside your window at night forces you to beg for your life in more ways than one. You do what it takes because you're a survivor. And you kind of like the mask on. A/N: please heed these warnings, as they can be triggering for some individuals. No one is forcing you to read this, and if it sounds unappealing, please keep scrolling. This is far different from what I usually post, but I’m feeling spooky and have rewatched the entire Scream franchise in 72 hours. Indented chat means ghostface’s voice changer is on. Thank you to Emmie @hyzer34 for the FREAKING AMAZING ghostface!joel edits!

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), horror, dark ghostface!joel, dubious consent (dubcon via manipulation/guilt/survival), reader has a boyfriend (what a drag) so I guess cheating/infidelity, swearing, taunting/stalker behavior, masked anonymous individual, strip show to save a life, male masturbation, threat of violence/death, begging for life, manhandling, spanking, rough oral (face fucking)(m!receiving), pet names, praise kink, degradation kink, clit smacking (?), life-threatening knifeplay, unprotected sex (p in v), the mask stays on ladies, plot twist ending? very barely edited heads-up

You gasp shakily as his hand carefully caresses your tit, thumb featherlight over your nipple, before he cups and lightly squeezes your juicy flesh. You swallow down a lump and cower before him. You’re afraid for when he goes lower what he might find, how your slick is dampening your thighs, and your clit is pulsating for him. You need him. It’s sick, gross, disgusting, but you need him. “Please, Mr.,” you trail off, unsure of what to call him. “Ghostface.” He aids, and you quickly nod as your lips part. Your worst fear is coming true as his calloused hand and rough fingertips guide themselves further down the soft skin of your stomach and to your panties. “Please, Mr. Ghostface, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.” You can’t help but feel tears welling in your eyes once more. The masked man sighs and slowly shakes his head in shame. “I don’t think it’s about what I want to do to you. But what you want me to do to you.”

It was a quiet fall evening. You sat on your boyfriend’s couch, ankles crossed along the extent of the cushions as you leafed through what was available on different streaming services. You wanted something spooky for Halloween but not something that would over-excite your imagination while alone. You’re wearing the same thing he left you in, red panties and an oversized black tee you had snagged from his closet.

You figure your boyfriend should be home soon, so you start a bag of popcorn in the microwave. You sit up on the counter and kick your feet gently against the cabinets as you watch the time tick down, listening to each pop as it slowly rattles up its pace.

Your phone’s ring catches your attention back in the living room. You assume it’s your boyfriend as you hop off the counter and swipe it from the arm of the chair.

Unknown Caller

With a roll of your eyes, your tongue rutting out against your cheek, you deny the call. Probably a wrong number or an asshole troll since Halloween was nearing. You’re about to turn back to the kitchen, hearing the popcorn bag rattling with intensity when your phone goes off again.

Stopped in your tracks, you watch your phone buzz with uncertainty as the screen flashes with the Unknown Caller tag once more.

All of a sudden, the air is tight in your lungs, and your body is riddled with goosebumps. Now you were annoyed. You slid across the call button and pushed the phone to your ear.

“You have the wrong number. Stop fucking calling me.” You jam the blaring red end call button before huffing and returning to your popcorn.

The timer slowly counts down, but each pop from the bag makes you jump. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Your body jolts as you hear something pound against the windows, throwing yourself back against the counter with wide eyes.

“What the fuck!” You gasp as you rotate your head, searching from open window to open window where the banging was coming from. But there was nothing. No one. Your heart rate is slowly increasing, you can feel it jumping in your wrist and your neck.

Your feet quickly skid across the room, locking the house’s back door before running back towards the front entrance, flicking the lock in place. Even if it was nothing, at least you were safe.

Standing still in the entryway, you observed the home to be dead quiet. Your fears were still nesting on your shoulders, that you weren’t alone.

Your phone rings again, causing you to jump from the silence you had grown used to. With a distasteful grimace, you glance around as you walk towards your phone. You accept the call with hesitancy.

“Who is this?” You ask, already maneuvering around the house and shutting all the curtains and blinds in your wake. “Whoever the hell you are, just stop fucking calling me.” You try not to let the panic that’s sitting in your throat be exposed over the phone. Whoever has called you hasn’t spoken yet.

“Hello?” You ask, pausing in the kitchen as you finish your rounds around the first floor.

“Now that is how you answer a phone call.” The voice isn’t familiar, it’s almost… animatronic? It didn’t sound like a person, but the languidness of their voice was all too human. It was low, primal.

Now, you’ve seen these movies before, you weren’t an idiot, and you weren’t going to be one tonight.

“What are you going to ask me? What’s my favorite scary movie?” You taunt, yanking the microwave door open and retrieving the piping hot bag of popcorn from inside, sucking in a harsh breath as your fingertips branded red from the heat.

The voice on the line laughs. It’s almost sinister, not at all comforting. You’re not even sure why you’re entertaining this jackass who’s calling you when all they’ve done so far is giggle at your expense.

“How did you even get this number, you fucking troll?” You probe, frowning as you squeeze your phone between your cheek and shoulder as you pry open the popcorn bag. Of course, it bursts, sending a few pieces scattered around the kitchen. You simply roll your eyes and sigh at the inconvenience.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and clean up the mess you made?”

You squat down to pick up the kernels you dropped, only realizing the extent of what the voice said a moment later. Your eyes widen, and your chest surges with panic. You look around, but all the windows are closed and covered. Was that just a lucky guess, or is someone watching you?

Out of instinct, you reach for the knife block on the kitchen counter and yank out the biggest one. The blade gleams silver in the light, and you realize how exposed you are.

You set down the knife on the counter and quickly move around the house, shutting off the lights and concealing you in a dim darkness.

“What happened to the show? Why did the curtain close?” The low, sinister voice asks, and you whimper quietly in your hand to conceal your fear. “I liked watching you walk around,” he pauses, and all you can hear is your heart pounding, “in those red little panties.”

You hate to admit that this flicks a nasty switch in you, chased and taunted, talked down to by an unknown figure. As much as you’re scared, a small churning begins low in your tummy, and you clench your thighs tighter together.

With a shaky breath, you nibble on your lower lip and slowly move towards the front windows. You slowly peek them open, seeing nothing but your reflection and darkness.

“Can you see me?” You ask nervously, licking at your lower lip.

“Ahhh, there she is.” The voice praises, forcing you to swallow a lump down your throat. “Push those curtains open all the way. Want to see all of you.” You shiver, and the pooling in your panties only becomes more urgent. Someone’s watching you, and they like what they see.

Following the anonymous caller’s instructions, you slowly push open the curtains, your body backlist by a dim light still on in the kitchen. The voice hums in appreciation.

You blame it on your state of panic for not thinking clearly or logically for that manner. This creep wanted you, you could hear the slight desperation clinging to their voice.

“Promise me you won’t fuckin’ harm me, and I-I’ll put on a show for you. Isn’t that what you want? You said you liked my panties.” You breathily point out, opting to put the phone on speakerphone and setting it down on the bench in front of the now curtain-drawn windows.

The voice on the other line hums, pondering your offer. A shiver rolls over your spine as you subconsciously cross your arms in front of your body, scared and nerve-wracked.

“You have a gorgeous body. Let me see it. All of it.” The voice echoes within the quiet home, and you blink back the fear that is resting heavily on your chest. You take in a shaky breath and do as you are told.

Your hands go to the hem of your top, about to lazily toss it off when you are tsk tsk-ed at. You frown and quickly pull the t-shirt back down.

“Not like that!” The voice barks, angry and condescending, making you whimper. The voice pauses and takes a breath. “Slower.”

“Slower..” you whisper back, hearing the voice hum. You still couldn’t see outside, merely darkness and your reflection. You were fucking terrified, but if this was what they wanted, just maybe they’d let you be.

You try again. Your hands slowly start at the sides of your neck, pretty and dainty fingers cascading down to your clavicle. You push one hand into the hair at the back of your neck, lightly ruffling the strands while the other skims lower to more dangerous territory.

The heel of your palm skirts down the front of your shirt until your fingers flitter over the hem of your panties.

It feels stupid what you’re doing, but it makes you feel alive. Your heart has never beat faster. You’ve never turned on a complete stranger, stalker, even. You were in control of the show here.

You’re not exactly sure what to look at in the window, so you admire the reflection. You hum sweetly as you hook your thumbs into the tops of your panties. You loop them around, from front to back, stopping at the sides and lightly pushing down to show glimpses of your hips.

The breathing on the other end shuffles. It almost makes you stop.

“This turn you on?” You ask. “Does this make you have your hand around your cock?” You ask into the phone, smiling lightly as you turn around, lifting up the shirt from covering your ass, giving them a peek-a-boo of you from the back.

The evil voice echoes a laugh. “How did you know?”

Being correct makes you all the more turned on. “How could you not?”

I mean, look at you. You looked gorgeous and confident, silhouetted by the light, awed by a strange man. You can hear them jerking it on the line, murmuring little grunts to try and not get ahead of themselves. The show had just begun.

With your back turned to the window still, you cross your arms over your threshold, retrieve your shirt, and lift it up and off of you. Your hair cascades and dances around your back and shoulders. You felt bare, cold. Part of you wished they would come inside and warm you up.

You peer over your shoulder, hearing the approving grunt on speakerphone. You bit on your thumbnail, looking through the glass with big doe eyes.

“You’re not so innocent, pretty girl. Let me see you.”

Now, with your body to show, you felt a bit more nervous. Your fingertips twitched, and you felt shaky on your legs. You did as the voice asked, turning to face the window. Your arms are crossed, covering your bare breasts meekly.

That’s when you see him. A masked man standing a fair distance away out your window. It quickens your pulse and surges you with adrenaline.

Yet you don’t run. You don’t hide.

Your eyes flitter down to their hand shuffling up and down the extent of their cock. The sight alone, even in the dark, being able to see his impressive length was enough to make you let out a needy whimper.

“I-I don’t know about this,” you whimper, your head falling a bit shamefully. It’s like your head caught up with your foolish actions.

“I’m warning you. Put down your fucking arms.”

You let out a shaky breath and wince at the voice, tears simmering on your waterline. You put yourself in this position, you can’t believe you thought this would work.

You slowly drop your hands to your sides, exposing your breasts. And how embarrassing they were, taut and at peaks. They were flush with color, begging for attention. You interlocked your fingers behind your back and chewed on your bottom lip, shyly looking down at the floor as you clamped your thighs tightly together.

“You’re a real beautiful girl,” the voice grunted, flattering you with attention. “Why don’t you let me in.”

The demand didn’t frighten you like maybe it should have. Frankly, you were turned on to the point where it nearly hurt. You didn’t know who this mystery person was or what their intentions were, but they were getting off to seeing you exposed, scared, and alone.

“Come on,” the voice continues. You hear shuffling, and when you look up, the masked man outside your window is gone. You move closer and peer outside, but it’s quiet. Empty.

“Let me take care of you, sweet girl.”

Breaths fans out hastily from your nostrils, panicked as you looked around slowly from the front entrance to the back.

The doorbell rings, and it makes you jump nonetheless.

You bite down on your bottom lip as you retrieve your phone and slowly cross to the door in just your socks and underwear. Your forearm covers your breasts. Your hand rests on the handle, but you have a hard time willing yourself to open it.

The doorbell rings again, another jump through your bones, but this time, it implores you to swing the door open. And there he was.

He was tall, you had to crane your neck to look up. Your lips part, doe eyes taking in how close he is, stepping back in shock at his appearance. Broad shoulders cloaked by a black hooded robe. It was tattered, lined with rips and tears at the seams that draped from his arms. He also wore large, black, combat boots. The scariest thing of all was the mask. It was white with black eyes and a sloped open black mouth.

Whoever was behind the mask was fit. Their toned body could be discovered even behind the robust black robe. He wore black gloves, too. You don’t realize that as you’re taking him in, the protective arm you had concealing your breasts has since lowered.

“Scary night to be alone, isn’t it?” The voice is still animatronic as the masked man’s head tilts and observes you through the black cloth eye holes.

You nod your head, its pace quick.

“Invite me in. Don’t want you to catch a chill.”

It was disturbing to admit how stupid you felt letting this freakshow stalker into your boyfriend’s home, but in a really weird and taboo way, you found the anonymity of the man attractive. You saw his cock while he stood outside, his large hand stroking over himself at the sight of your body. You figure he must have put the gloves back on once he wanted to come inside.

As if he could read your mind, the masked man stepped inside with his tall stature looming over yours. He slowly plucked off one of his gloves, and you see his flesh.

You watch him carefully as he brings his hand to cup your cheek. You flinch at first, but there is truly nothing to be frightened of. He strokes away a dry, panicked tear from earlier. You can’t help but let out a shaky, wavering whimper. He touches you with such delicacy but hides behind a mask that scares you to your core.

“Just as I thought,” His animatronic voice echoed, his hand dropping to your hair that fell around your face and sweeping it behind your shoulder. “You’re beautiful.”

Your hair was no longer concealing your breasts. You gasp shakily as his hand carefully caresses your tit, thumb featherlight over your nipple, before he cups and lightly squeezes your juicy flesh.

You swallow down a lump and cower before him. You’re afraid for when he goes lower what he might find, how your slick is dampening your thighs, and your clit is pulsating for him. You need him. It’s sick, gross, disgusting, but you need him.

“Please, Mr.,” you trail off, unsure of what to call him.

“Ghostface.” He aids, and you quickly nod as your lips part. Your worst fear is coming true as his calloused hand and rough fingertips guide themselves further down the soft skin of your stomach and to your panties.

“Please, Mr. Ghostface, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.” You can’t help but feel tears welling in your eyes once more.

The masked man sighs and slowly shakes his head in shame.

“I don’t think it’s about what I want to do to you. But what you want me to do to you.” He aggressively cups your sex, feeling his fingers squish with the soaked material of your red panties. You whimper and clutch his arm, biting back whimpery moans that you’re so desperate to let out. You were secretly begging to be touched. Your thighs clamp around the man’s hand.

He deviously chuckles. “This is all for me, sweet girl?”

The man walks you backward until your back is flushed to the wall. You’re still holding his arm in place between your thighs. His fingers add pressure to your bundle of nerves. You lightly grind your hips down into his fingers and let out an embarrassed little moan.

“Y-Yes.” Admitting in defeat made your stomach churn. “But I want to hear your voice.” You whisper, unsure if you can even make demands in your position right now.

Ghostface sighs weakly but plucks something out from under his mask. It looks sort of like a smaller walkie-talkie. It was a voice changer. Your eyes flitter to the eyes of his mask. It was black, empty. Finally, you would hear his true voice, and you prayed it was as sexy as he looked.

“Is this what you wanted to hear, darlin’?”

You lightly gasp at the southern drawl, deep and guttural, musk-filled and leaving you in a tailspin. His voice was hot, causing a pool of your white-hot heat to leak once more into your panties. You finally nod to his question and let your hands skim across the man’s front. He was toned, like you imagined, with hardened plains and a toughened, thick torso under his black cloak.

“You’re comin’ with me.” The voice growls. He leans down and scoops you up, throwing you over his shoulder as you gasp and whimper, feeling him trail you up the stairs. His black combat boots echo loudly through the stairwell. He’s so strong. How he knows the layout of the house scares you and implores you. It’s like he knows you, and you may know him.

He takes you to the master bedroom, the one you share with your boyfriend. Fuck, your boyfriend. A naughty sin to cheat, a naughty sin to like it. It’s hard to picture him right now with the man above you captivating your full attention.

Your breasts jiggle when he throws you back onto the mattress. You scramble further up it, putting a safe distance between you and Ghostface. He grips you at your ankles and pulls you to him in an eager yank. A cry escapes your throat, but it’s just because you’re nervous. You saw how big he was in his hand outside, and now, soon, you’d hope he would be inside of you.

“Please,” you whimper, and Ghostface tilts his head. “I-I..” you trail off and shake your head, embarrassment and shame pumping through your veins.

“You, what? Spit it out, pretty girl.” The voice says as he slowly takes off the hooded robe. He wears black pants and a black t-shirt under it but keeps the mask on. You like the mask on.

“I… I need you, Mr. Ghostface, please,” you whimper. Since he pulled you by your ankles back to the edge of the bed, your centers lightly graze one another. You make it a point to grind your hips eagerly into his, smearing the front of his pants with your slick.

The masked man hums in appreciation. You feel his hardened length concealed by his pants. Whimpers leave your mouth as you sit up and reach forward, unbuttoning the black pants with shaky hands. You unzip him and yank him free of his confines. You nearly freeze at his length, prominent veins lining up and down his cock from his pink tip to his swollen balls.

“You wanna live tonight, baby girl?” The low southern voice asks. You quickly nod, big, desperate eyes wanting to fill his every carnal need.

“Then get on your fucking knees, m’gonna fuck your throat.”

He’s aggressive as he pulls you down onto the floor by your hair. You scream out of instinct, but the heat on your scalp brings needy relief.

You quickly scramble properly to your knees and shuffle your hand over him. One hand isn’t enough, so you add your second. He’s so large and girthy. Fucking your mouth would hurt so good. You hope you’re a slobbering mess for him once he’s done with you.

“Did I say your hands?” You frown and slowly stop, shaking your head. “I said your throat, want your fucking throat, you little slut.”

You whimper and force yourself to put your hands behind your back, your breasts perking out more as you spit over him, watching it glide down his shaft and spill onto your shaking thighs. You lick your lips and wrap your mouth around his sensitive tip.

The masked man seethes through his teeth. He takes off both gloves and knots his fingers into your hair. You’re intimidated by his size, anyone would be, so you try to relax your throat and let him sink further and further in.

Your eyes go wide as he rams himself down your throat impatiently. Your hands instinctively fly up to his thighs, smacking at them and clutching desperately, trying to explain with a lack of words that you’re choking on him. You cry out, but his cock muffles you.

“M’not a patient man, I’m warning you now.”

You clench your teary eyes closed and sniffle, trying your best to swallow around him and breathe through your nose. Your black mascara tears turns him on, and he twitches in your mouth.

With a shaky breath, you try again. You have to start slow at first, but you remember how impatient he is. You slick his cock with your spit, trying to work up his shaft inch by inch.

“Open your mouth up, nice and wide for me.” The sight of his mask makes you twitch, but you do as he says and drop your jaw for him. You even go as far as to stick out your tongue for him.

“Wow,” he admires, as both of his hands wind up into your hair and carve out sections of your hair to create ponytails in his fists. “Such a good girl f’me.”

His praise makes you purr, bringing your hands up to your front as you massage over the squishy flesh of your tits.

You let out a low mewl as he stuffs your mouth again, stuffing your face with his cock. It takes a few moments, but you gradually learn how to accommodate him. He hits the back of your throat repeatedly, and he likes it when you choke around him. You try to see him through your teary eyes, whimpering around his cock.

The masked man’s grip on your hair tightens as he pulls you into his cock and holds you there, balls flushed to your mouth as they smack against your chin. He groans, long and low, holding you down as his cock suffocates your throat. You swallow around him, tasting drops of precum, whimpering around him as you struggle to breathe. Despite it causing you to choke even more around him, you stick out as much of your tongue as you can and teasingly lick at his balls.

He sucks in harshly through his teeth and moans, gripping the ponytails even tighter, making your scalp sear in pain. But it was all worth it because he was so goddamn big in your throat. You hoped he would split your pussy.

With a harsh yank, the masked man rips you from his cock. You instantly cough and gag, trying to swallow around the excessive puddles of saliva grouping in the back of your throat and now dripping out of your mouth. You looked like a disgusting mess.

You plant your hands on the floor and drop your head, looking like a dog as you shakily regain your breathing. You slowly look up, seeing his hardened cock slap up against his toned stomach, dripping with your slobber.

You meekly wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and stand up, your legs shaking beneath you. With as much courage as you can muster, you reach for Ghostface’s hand and slowly pull it to your center as you sit on the edge of the bed.

“Please,” you beg in a meek whisper, swallowing the messy amount of existing saliva and precum down your throat as you blink through black, mucky, mascara tears. Your eyes flutter as his long, meaty fingers slowly circle around your clit through your panties. It’s jaw-dropping, stomach-fluttering madness. It’s like he knows you like the back of your hand. “Please, fuck me.” You whisper desperately, pulling him slowly towards the direction of the bed. Towards you.

You don’t feel any more safe with him, but you like the excitement of feeling on the fence. Would he be rough or gentle with you? Call you his sweet girl or his little slut? The edging of unsureness and torrid manipulation has forced white hot heat to pool into your core, and you sure as hell spoiled these red panties enough.

The masked man drops his gaze to your mound. His hands reach up to the sides of your hips.

It’s slow and desperate at first, he almost fools you. Ghostface weakly chuckles before he begins to rip the measly material from your lower half. You yelp out as it causes your body to get tugged around. Your panties are now a mess of threads on the floor. You whimper desperately, clamping your thighs closed on instinct despite wanting the opposite.

Ghostface grabs your ankles and forcibly parts your legs, turning his head slowly as he watches your glistening core.

“Y-You could have a taste, y’know, if you take off the mask.” You offer, your heart pounding in your chest. You loosely hook your leg around his hip and pull him closer. Ghostface plants his hands on either side of your head, hovering over you as his heavy breath puffs through the mask.

Ghostface pulls one hand away to his side and shucks something off his belt. You gasp and flinch your eyes closed as a large knife glimmers in the moon’s light.

“You think I’m going to show you my face, you stupid bitch? Huh?” He taunts you, wielding the knife closer and closer to your throat as you cry out, but clamp your legs tighter around his waist and pull your centers together. You can feel his fat cock sliding up and down your exposed folds. You’re so needy, and it’s repulsive.

He sickeningly laughs, jutting the tip of his knife against the underside of your chin. It hurts, it stings, and you hope it leaves a mark from him so you can look at it later when you replay this night in your mind. You hope he spares you so you can think endlessly about him.

“I-I want you to keep the mask on.” You purr nervously, your hand drifting down your stomach towards your exposed mound.

Ghostface chuckles, low and demonic. “You want me to fuck you with the mask on?” He asks slowly, trilled with curiosity.

It fills you with a pit of guilt and shame in your stomach. But you slowly nod. You were willing to risk everything, your boyfriend, your safety, your life, just to ensure this man filled you to the brim like you know he could.

“Please do. Fuck me, Mr. Ghostface.” You beg. Though you can’t see, you imagine him smirking behind his mask, looking at you with a sense of intrigue and disgust. How could you be so twisted?

“My pleasure.” He says goadingly, ripping the hold you had on the sheets and yanking you closer to the edge of the bed. You cry out as he forcibly spreads your legs with his body and slaps his cock against your aching center. You’re so sensitive from waiting, you needed to have him this very second.

A smirk twitched on your lips, but you forced yourself to bite it down, shakily moaning as Ghostface tucks away his knife and wraps his large hand around his cock, lining up his tip to your dripping center. You flinch every time he purposely flicks your anxious bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your hand clutching his bicep greedily. “Please, need to feel you inside of me.” You whimper.

Ghostface reaches up and smears his hand down your face, your cheeks smudged with your mucky tears as you whine like a little brat. For your insolence, he strikes you across the face before nastily grabbing you by your cheeks and forcing you to look at him.

“Bein’ a real fuckin’ brat for a stranger’s dick, such a fucking hungry cock slut, aren’t you?” He degraded you to your very core, soiling his cock in your gushing slick. You were pretty sure that if he even just breathed over your mound, you would come.

Ghostface enjoys your desperate whimpers for his dick. He’s more than happy to deliver. He angles his tip to your entrance and notches himself inside. Your gasp surges his adrenaline as he parts you egregiously.

You hook your hands on the underside of your legs, keeping yourself wide and spread for the masked man above you. Inch by inch, you feel your head lose focus, your mind floating as you see stars that consume your vision.

The moans you give him are heavenly, he thinks he’s never heard a more beautiful thing. He’s a sadist watching you take his cock, knowing it hurts, knowing you’re forcing yourself open for him, knowing how much you’re drunk off it. He just can’t help himself to wait.

Air is knocked from your lungs when Ghostface decides he’s, again, not a patient man. He fucks the last few inches into you and hard, pushing you to your limits and filling you to the brim.

Your head is thrown back as you scream in shock, never having been fucked by someone who feels so good. You sob as your walls flutter around him, attempting to accommodate the size in such a short amount of time.

“Yes! Jesus Christ- Fuck!” You moan out, to which Ghostface chuckles lowly.

“Take me so well,” he’s trying to breathe through being squeezed so tightly by your walls, even he finds it difficult. “Such a pretty girl, just needs to be fucked to keep her- shit - her goddamn mouth shut.” The man growls behind the mask and starts to fuck you at an earth-shattering pace.

You cry out in shock, gripping Ghostface at his biceps and whimpering at how strong he is. He pulls himself nearly all the way out of you before he flushes his hips right back to you, slapping your ass cheeks with his clothed thighs. That’s when he really begins to rail you.

You see stars, still adjusting to his size, your slick pooling around him with excitement. You hazily smile, fucked dumb by a stranger, filled to the brim as you stare at the ceiling. Your visions jumps up and down as Ghostface pounds you senselessly. The bedframe rattles and the legs skirt against the hardwood floors.

Impatient whines from you fill the room as he pulls himself from your pussy, moaning out for him needily. He manhandles you, grabbing your hips forcefully and flipping you over onto your stomach.

“Ass up, let’s go.” He commands.

You were still in a funk, head wiped empty of any palpable information. You whimpered as you tried to move but at the pace of a snail.

His impatient hands grip you tightly at your hips, forcing a broken yelp from your throat as he pulls you up to bend over, shoving your face into the mattress and angling your ass up for him to use.

“Yes, please use me,” you whimper desperately, reaching your hands back and parting your ass cheeks for him. “Finish inside me, use me as your cum dumpster.” Where was this language coming from?! This wasn’t you, you didn’t sound or look like you. He was turning you into someone new, someone satisfied by his anonymity. You’d never know who was fucking you senseless, and it might drive you mad until you find out, if you ever will, that is.

Your thoughts are squashed from your mind as a harsh slap followed by a greedy grip is splayed across your ass. A yelp is pulled from your throat, instincts telling you to flinch away and protect yourself.

“Ah-ah,” the man teases, his angry fingers creating bruises on your hips as he pulls you back to the edge of the bed to be his little sex servant. “Good girls take what they are given, so take it,” Ghostface says as he smacks your other cheek, reddening them both, jiggling the flesh much to his appeal.

His large palms seared his prints into your ass, gripping your ass and pulling you to his cock. He lines himself up, and you take him again.

You don’t understand unless it’s happening to you, how it feels like you’re floating in space, fucked numb but also feeling like you’re on pins and needles. It’s indescribable to enjoy being fucked by a stranger, but it’s happening, and it’s happening to you.

He penetrates you, parting your walls, making himself a home inside you. You squeeze around him, and he moans. It satisfies you so intensely.

“Beg for me,” he mutters through the mask, grunting with each thrust. He must be close.

“P-Please, keep fucking me so good, please Mr. Ghostface-”

“No!” He strikes your pretty ass again, hard, and your warm flesh singes with heat. You whimper, imagining how red, angry, and large his handprint looks stamped on your ass.

“Want you to beg... for your life.” His voice had turned as cold as stone, ridged with a sadist tone that left goosebumps bubbling on the surface of your skin. A scared feeling sunk into the pit of your stomach. You swallowed a lump down your throat and shyly peeked around your shoulder to take him in.

“P-Please… I want to live,” you whimper, your hands fisting the sheets as Ghostface slowly picks back up the paces of his thrusts. He’s turned on by this.

“Oh my- please, I know you d-don’t know me, but I’m good, l-look how good I’m being for you,” you begin to cry as he fucks you harder, your ass clapping aggressively against his thighs and the grip he has on your hips intensifies.

He loves fucking you until you cry. Such a sadist.

Ghostface gives a few last gut-twisting thrusts, and his tip kisses your cervix repeatedly. He’s so large you can feel him in your tummy. His hand reaches around your hip, and the other stays gripping your ass while he spanks your clit lightly with his fingers.

“Fuck!” You cry out, beginning to throw your ass back into him, creating your own unique rhythm together. You’re so sensitive, and you’re coming before you can even fully register it.

“Mr. Ghostface, please,” you whimper. “I-I’m coming so fu-ucking hard,” you mewl for him, your thighs twitching along with your walls that squeeze around him, begging to milk him for his seed.

Ghostface’s thick and angry cock twitches inside of you, desperate to fill your needy hole with his sperm. He grunts and pants into the mask, filling his own body with a heat that makes him sweat. He pounds himself into you until you’re flattened against the mattress, begging for release, begging to live.

There’s something about your obedience that he gives into, his cock twitching deep inside the warm comfort of your walls and between your beautiful ass cheeks. He pulls out and pants, handling his cock as he paints your ass white.

The warm droplets of come make you twitch, but it’s so hot to be painted white by the man who praised you and degraded you all night long.

You’re a heap of nothing strewn about the mattress. You can’t seem to calm your shaky breath. You lay there limp, unable to move, unable to think. All you can think about is the man behind the mask and how irate and perverted he is. And how much you fell into his trap.

Shame twisted your guts enough, forcing you to get up and turn around and face your stalker. But when you turned back, he was gone. How long were you not paying attention?

You quickly retrieved your robe, forcing yourself to walk despite your legs feeling like liquid gelatin. Checking room to room, you survey your boyfriend's home and are left empty-handed. It’s like he was never here.

From the top of the stairs, you hear the door open and close.

“Honey?” Your heart sinks, hearing your boyfriend kick off his shoes on the mat.

Rushing down the stairs, you collapse into his arms and cry out of guilt. You tell him everything. Everything besides the show in front of the windows and getting fucked by Ghostface in his own bed. There’s more to leave out than to leave in, but the short story is that you were taunted over the phone by a masked man, scared to death, and begged for your life.

His first reaction was to call the police, and despite how much you hesitated, you let him. Two nice offers responded to the call. They sat you two down separately and asked you what had happened. You were wrapped in a blanket and your robe, shaking in disappointment.

It was scary, lying to the cops, withholding all of the truth. Making sure not to overshare any details. You also didn’t want to give away that you liked it. To the bone, you liked it.

You were hunted like prey tonight, used, fucked hard until you couldn’t breathe. Left in the dark, feeling a little crazy if it even happened in the first place. But you could feel him still inside of you, stretched and still leaking between your thighs. You tugged your robe tighter, smiling weakly at the officer as he closed his notebook.

“We’ll figure out what we can ma’am. For now, keep everything locked up. I wouldn’t leave the house alone.” You wipe away the mucky mascara on your cheeks and sigh, nodding as you walk with the officer to the door.

His badge read J. Miller. He was older, stippled with grey hair within his dark curly locks. He had an aquiline nose and plumish-rose lips. His broad chest strikes something somewhat familiar to you. He glances behind you at the officer who is still asking your boyfriend a few questions.

Officer Miller sighed, looking over the door frame curiously.

“Said you locked the doors?”

You hesitate but nod compliantly.

His pointer finger shapes over the lock, then the entry metal hinge. “No forced entry.” He notes, looking at you curiously.

You evade his eye contact and conceal yourself tighter in your blanket and robe. “I.. I don’t know how he got in.” Your eyes find the floor, planting themselves there as you stare at Officer Miller’s familiar black police boots.

He hums curiously, looking over you slowly.

“You’re tellin’ me everythin’ that happen to you tonight?”

Your doe eyes go wide, your head snapping up to Officer Miller’s. “I-I promise, please, Officer Miller-”

He holds up a hand to cut you off, and you weakly stand there with your lips parted. Then he starts to nod and slowly smile. “That’s a good girl.”

It strikes you like a bolt of lightning, fear and curiosity consume you. You hear footsteps behind you, the other officer, and your boyfriend, who collects his arm around your shoulders.

Officer Miller watches you with a glint of intrigue but nothing more. His eyes shift to your boyfriend’s arm protectively wrapped around you. It makes him twitch up a stomach-twisting smile before he turns to his fellow officer.

“Got everything you need?” Officer Miller asks, tucking his thumbs into the front of his belt while he observes the other officer’s notepad. The officer nods and places his small notebook and pen in his breast pocket.

“Got everything we need. You two stay safe.”

The other officer ducks out first and nods curtly, Officer J. Miller stands there a moment longer.

“Happy Halloween.” He said with a sickening smile. “Be sure to lock the door behind me.”

You gulp as you look over Officer Miller meekly before he disappears outside and into the night. Where he belonged.

---

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peppermint-pearl · 15 days ago

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Free will !!!

It has come to my attention that I can do literally whatever I want , so here’s a Mouthwashing OC !

Her name's Hope , she's another mechanic intern on the Tulpar (my justification for this is that an internship under Swansea was always part of the plan but Pony ended up saddling him with two--) .

She was in college for aerospace engineering but after tuition prices increased she was forced to drop out and find work , which lead her to the position at Pony Express . So she's decently qualified for the position but she's like . bitter about it because it's a mere shadow of the dreams she once had for it herself .

She acts pretty jaded / tries to be pessimistic about everything because she believes her life is over and she's afraid of further disappointment , but still holds a bit of that same naivety she thinks she stomped out of herself . I think maybe she tries to act a little like Swansea but it doesn't really land the same way because she's got literally none of the life experience to justify how completely over everything she is KASLHFJ - she's like . 'ah yes . kindred spirits' but still gets flustered at making little mistakes in a way that makes it obvious she really just wants to be liked and do a good job .

I think she's most comfortable around Anya partially because she'd be the only other girl on the ship , and partially because Hope sees her as an older woman (older than her at least SDKHJ) still working to achieve her dreams (getting into medical school!) and feels better knowing there's still time for her to do what she wants . Maybe also Hope had an older sister at home Anya reminds her of ? that one's a little up in the air but I'm thinking thoughtfully of it !!

I think she'd also be close with Daisuke because he's her age and she's able to see him more as a peer than an authority like she does everyone else on the ship (and what if they kissed . just a little bit . for my happiness .) . She probably tried very hard not to like him at first due to his general lack of ability with . internship things . but pretty quickly warmed up to him just because of how earnest and well-meaning he is . I think they'd speak to each other in niche pop culture references no one else on the ship knows ASFLHJ

Swansea and her would constantly be insulting each other but in a way that feels familiar if that makes sense ? I think she does get under Swansea's skin a lot but 'at least she can get the job done' . He definitely thinks it's funny to point out little imperfections in her work to get her a little panicked -- like 'ah , you scratched the reflection here , unacceptable . we'll need to throw you into space for this .' and then laugh at the split second Hope actually believes it ALSDJKF.

I think she holds some respect for Curly and Jimmy as authority figures , but would probably feel better being friendly with Curly just because Jimmy is . unfriendly . and horrible KLJHSD

When the crash happens , she probably slips deeper back into the doom spiral she'd been on before - if she thought her life was over before , it's suPER NOT LOOKING BETTER BY THIS POINT ,, Taking a leaf from Swansea's book , she'd probably try getting absolutely blasted off the 3498239478 Dragons Breath bottles they'd been transporting .

As for how she dies , I think . as pathetic as it is . she either drinks too much of the mouthwash or she chokes on her own vomit from it . Which also makes me think that if she was actually in the story she'd be maybe the first to die ? Like it's maybe the least directly violent / most unrelated to the final spiral of events that leads to everyone else's death but it IS also partially a result of negligence and another sign of what's to come . Jimmy would probably have tried to sweep it under the rug , saying it was her own fault , but it super would noT have helped tensions on the ship .

UHH YEAH that's all I have brainstormed , I might do some stuff with her later -- if you got this far thank you for humoring my brainrot ASDFLJH

#mintys art #mouthwashing #mouthwashing oc #mouthwashing game #mouthwashing fanart #anya mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing

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ilguna · 1 year ago

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☼ perfectly timed pt2 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; when you figure out that the arena's a clock, Finnick promises that he'll be your bodyguard from then on, and he doesn't take that responsibility lightly.

warnings; swearing, death, death mention, murder, gore, blood.

wc; 11k

part one.

–

“I’m not going to tell you right now, though.” You warn Finnick, he doesn’t seem to care. “You can’t say anything just yet.”

“I won’t.” He tells you.

“I’m just going to work out the details.” You say.

The two of you walk a couple of steps, before he realizes that he still has his arm around your shoulder. He removes it, offering you an apologetic smile, before joining Katniss, Peeta and Johanna in the treeline.

“Well, it must be monkey hour. And I don’t see any of them in there." Peeta says. “I’m going to try to tap a tree.”

“No, it’s my turn,” Finnick says.

“You’re going to put (Y/n) in danger?” Peeta asks.

Finnick looks at you for a second, “She’ll stick close.”

“I’ll at least watch your back.” Peeta says.

“Katniss can do that.” Johanna says. “We need you to make another map. The other washed away.” She reaches up and yanks a large leaf off of a tree to hand to him.

You shake your head. “I’ll stay here, too, then.”

“No, you’re not leaving my sight, remember?” Finnick motions for you to come.

“Johanna can—”

“Come on, (Y/n). I won’t let anything touch you here.” Finnick takes a step toward you, grabbing your wrist. He begins to pull you into the jungle, you struggle to keep up with his steps.

You travel about fifteen yards into the jungle, when Finnick finds a good tree to tap into. He takes the knife from your hand to stab into the bark of the tree to make a hole with the knife to stick the metal object into. You stick close to Finnick’s side, eyes sweeping the jungle.

Katniss is on guard, too, but she doesn’t appear to be as concerned as you feel. She’s lost in thought, eyebrows twitching in. You look back at the beach, wondering if Finnick will get mad if you go back there, anyway. None of you have any idea what time it is right now, making the jungle dangerous. Katniss said it was going on four, meaning four is beginning…

“Finnick, I don’t think the monkeys are out anymore.”

“We’re fine, (Y/n).” He brushes you off.

“If it’s going on four, then that means we’re in the next hour. We have no idea what we’re facing.”

“The jungle’s fine, see?” Finnick says, straightening briefly to motion to the greenery. “I’ve got you.” He then looks at Katniss, “Katniss, got that spile?”

She blinks, cutting the vines that were holding the metal tube to her belt. She holds it out to him from between her fingers. Finnick’s just reaching to grab it, when a scream breaks the silence. It belongs to a young girl, one that must be terrified.

Katniss drops the spile, whipping around and running straight to where the scream had come from, barely dodging vines and branches as she travels further into the jungle. You shake your head, going to plead with Finnick, but he’s sweeping the spile into one hand, grabbing you with the other, dragging you after Katniss.

“Prim!” Katniss’ shrill scream sounds close, “Prim!” Another agonized scream comes from further in the jungle. “Prim!”

“Finnick, we’re in the next hour!” You tell him, looking behind you to the beach, wondering if Johanna and Peeta can hear Katniss. “We’ve got to get out, not go further!”

“Katniss is our priority.” Finnick tells you firmly.

You block branches with your forearm to keep them from leaving cuts on your face. The pace Finnick sets is difficult to keep up with, you’re not used to running this far for this long. He doesn’t care, pulling you along, forcing you to keep moving whether you like it or not. You think about stopping, but he’d just pick you up to keep going.

Sweat begins to run down the side of your face in the same way that the blood rain did, past your ears and to your chin, where it drips on the front of your jumpsuit. You suck in deep breaths of air, but they provide no help, with how humid it is in here. You need cold air, the type that was coming off of the seawater.

“Prim!” Katniss screams. She rips through a wall of green, stumbling into a clearing ahead. The screaming continues, Katniss is looking up, into the trees. “Prim?”

“What is it?” You gasp.

“I don’t know.”

The two of you make it to the clearing, where you struggle to suck in the air that your lungs are demanding. Katniss seems calmer, at least. She’s wiping one of her arrows clean of blood with moss.

“Katniss?” Finnick says.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” She says. “I thought they had my sister but—”

The hair on the back of your neck rises when another scream fills the air, this time it’s not a girl. It’s his. You turn, lips parting as you search the jungle. How can he be here? How did they get him here? He’s supposed to be safe at home, untouchable.

“Zero?” You call.

“(Y/n)!” Zero screams back.

“Zero!” You take off in the direction it’s coming from.

“(Y/n), wait!” Katniss shouts behind you.

You don’t stop, running up the incline, heading for the sound of his voice. You manage to keep an eye on the ground, avoiding the roots and snarls that stick up, waiting to trap your feet in its grasp.

“(Y/n), please!”

“I’m coming!” You shout, gasping for air, “Zero, I’m coming!”

You duck beneath a branch, not bothering to stop for it. You can hear Finnick and Katniss behind you, struggling to keep on your heels. The further you travel, the faster you go, getting a hang of the incline.

You fly through a group of bushes, tripping over a branch when it catches on your clothes. You fall to your knees, eyes searching the sky above. You can hear him screaming for you, up in the tree.

“Zero.” Your lips are trembling as you get to your feet. “Zero!”

“Help!” He screams.

Katniss and Finnick come through the bushes, panting. You move around the tree, tears in your eyes that you wipe away.

“I’ve got it.” Katniss tells you, “I’ll get him.”

“Zero.” You murmur. “My brother, they have my brother? How is that possible?”

Katniss sticks her fingers in the bark in places you couldn’t have begun to imagine. She scales the tree, the branches and foliage concealing her. She doesn’t say a word, but the screaming stops. And something falls from the tree, landing in the grass at your feet.

Finnick picks it up, turning it over in his hand.

Your face smooths. “It’s a jabberjay.”

Katniss slides down the tree, coming to join you two. “It’s all right, (Y/n). It’s just a jabberjay. They’re playing a trick on us.” She says. “It’s not real. It’s not your… Zero.”

“No, it’s not Zero, but the voice was his.”

“Jabberjays mimic what they hear. Where did they get those screams, Katniss?” Finnick says.

Katniss pales. “Oh, Finnick, you don’t think they…?”

“Yes I do. That’s exactly what I think.” Finnick says.

You struggle to get your hands to stop shaking, palms flat against your thighs. You and Finnick share a long look, as Katniss sinks into the ground, fingers grabbing at the grass.

Zero’s supposed to be safe at home. You promised him that he’d be okay without you, he’d be protected by the neighboring victors. If anything happened, he would be the first person they retrieved so he could be protected if a war broke out. You didn’t think that they’d just collect him to torture him for samples…

“We have to go.” Finnick says, “This must be the hour.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you.” You look at him.

“I know, I should’ve listened.” He turns his attention to Katniss. “You have to get up, we need to get back to the others.”

She doesn’t respond, doesn’t so much as glance in your direction to confirm that she’s heard what he said. You wipe the sweat from your forehead, pulling at your fingers. You don’t like being here, in the middle of the jungle. You’re so exposed.

A bird starts to scream off to your right, this causes Katniss to leap to her feet, jerking in the direction. Finnick catches her arm before she can run. “No. It’s not him.” He starts pulling her downhill, you stick close to them. “We’re getting out of here!” Katniss doesn’t care, struggling to get free. “It’s not him, Katniss! It’s a mutt!”

Zero’s screams overlap, your feet freeze in place for a second, you stiffly get them to work again. Finnick glances at you, you press your lips together, sliding your arm beneath his to keep together.

As you go further away from the screams, Katniss is less combative. In fact, she becomes eager to get out of the jungle, pulling you and Finnick behind her. It takes only a few minutes for you to reach the treeline, where Johanna and Peeta are standing there, unmoving.

Finnick lets go of Katniss, but you keep your hold on him.

Peeta’s got his hands raised, palms facing towards you. His lips are moving, but there’s no sound behind it. It isn’t until Katniss and Finnick run smack into the transparent wall, do you know that it’s there. The two of them fall back on the jungle floor, Finnick pulling you down with him.

Katniss grips at her shoulder, but when you look at Finnick, you see that his nose is gushing blood. He must’ve hit it face-first. You search the area nearby, and find some of the moss that Katniss had been using earlier to help clean up Beetee’s back. You pull it from the rock, handing it to Finnick.

“Thanks.” He squishes his nose. “So much for going to the beach.”

Johanna and Peeta shake their heads, and even demonstrate that the wall is unbreakable, by swinging their weapons at it. None of you even bother to try to check any of the other walls, all that’ll happen is you’ll be met with disappointment when you can’t make it through there, either.

For the next minute, you think that this will be manageable. You can sit through and listen to your brother screaming for help. Then the birds arrive, one by one, perching in the surrounding branches. An orchestrated chorus of screams and pleas begin to spill out of their beaks.

You slam the heels of your hands over your ears, pressing tightly. “No, no, no!”

Finnick comes over, guiding you to the wall, helping you to the ground. He doesn’t seem affected by the screams, he even pries your hands from your ears, only then to immediately replace them with his. He blocks them out entirely, but you still reach up to hold them there, afraid of the sounds that are happening out there.

You watch for a while as Katniss empties her quiver of arrows into the birds. She’ll take one down, and it’ll be replaced by two more. When she realizes this, she stops, coming to sit beside you and Finnick, clenching her own hands over her ears to keep out the wretched noise.

You keep your eyes closed for the remainder of the hour, distracting yourself by thinking about the plan to kill off the Two tributes. You come to the conclusion that it’ll work best if you hide in the trees, let the tidal wave come at ten, hike up to the lightning tree to somehow connect the wire to the tree, and then bring the spool back down to the beach before the lightning hits. By then, Enobaria and Brutus will want to be out of the jungle, and they’ll get electrocuted to death.

That is, unless the rebel plan takes over first. As far as you know, the mentors haven’t sent any hints as to what day and what hour you’ll be executing everything. Haymitch worked out a plan, hopefully fool proof. You’ll use the type of district bread for day, and the amount of bread for the hour.

He’s supposed to send multiple rounds of the bread to confirm that it’s still happening at the same time. You haven’t thought to ask about it until now. Before, your mind was occupied with the jungle, then a plan to kill the careers. With that almost done, you need to look at the final and bigger picture.

Finnick’s hands loosen from your ears, you’re left with an ache in the area from how hard he was pushing. The hour must be done, because Peeta is now sitting with Katniss, and you can’t hear anymore screaming.

Your head falls into your hands as you rub beneath your eyes, sighing. Finnick gets to his feet, when you look up, you can see he has his hand out for you. You take it, letting him pull you to your feet.

“Thank you, Finnick. You didn’t have to do that.” You place your hand on his shoulder.

“They have no one to use against me, (Y/n).” Finnick says, “And I didn’t want to watch you being tortured.”

Your eyebrows twitch, “Right.”

“I’m going to go find a tree to tap.” Finnick tells you.

“Do you want me to go with?”

“No, stay here with them. I’ll be back in a minute.” He says, picking up his trident. He strides off, presumably toward the original tree that he had carved out before the birds attacked.

“It’s all right, Katniss.” Peeta whispers.

“You didn’t hear them.”

“I heard Prim. Right in the beginning. But it wasn’t her,” He says. “It was a jabberjay.”

“It was her. Somewhere. The jabberjay just recorded it.” Katniss says, not budging.

“No, that’s what they want you to think. The same way I wondered if Glimmer’s eyes were in that mutt last year. But those weren’t Glimmer’s eyes. And that wasn’t Prim’s voice. Or if it was, they took it from an interview or something and distorted the sound. Made it say whatever she was saying.” He says.

What Peeta says gets you thinking. He’s right. You thought the same thing she and Finnick did, until Peeta mentioned the distorted sound a second ago. At home, you learned how to do that in school. It’s basic technology manipulation. You’re not sure why you didn’t think of that before.

Maybe it’s because you wouldn’t put it past the Capitol to kidnap and torture innocents. Zero has never been directly in contact with the capitol, unless it’s through you. Even then, they don’t focus on him for very long.

“No, they were torturing her.” Katniss says. “She’s probably dead.”

“Katniss, Prim isn’t dead. How could they kill Prim? We’re almost down to the final eight of us. And what happens then?” Peeta asks.

“Seven more of us die.” Katniss mutters morbidly. It’s almost comical.

“No, back home. WHat happens when they reach the final eight tributes in the Games?” He lifts her chin. “What happens? At the final eight?”

Katniss doesn’t respond right away. “At the final eight?” She repeats. “They interview your family and friends back home.”

“That’s right.” Peeta says. “They interview your family and friends. And can they do that if they’ve killed them all?”

“No?” Katniss asks.

“No. That’s how we know Prim’s alive. She’ll be the first one they interview, won’t she?” He asks, Katniss is apprehensive still. “First Prim. Then your mother. Your cousin, Gale. Madge,” he lists. “It was a trick, Katniss. A horrible one. But we’re the only ones who can be hurt by it. We're the ones in the Games. Not them.”

Finnick is coming back through the trees, a woven bowl in his hands. They hardly pay any attention to him. He hands you the water first, you take a few sips out of it, giving it back to him.

“You really believe that?” Katniss asks.

“I really do.” Peeta says.

Katniss looks at Finnick, who’s handing her the bowl of water. “Did you hear any of that, Finnick> Do you believe it?”

“It could be true. I don’t know.” His eyes land on you. “Could they do that, (Y/n)? Take someone’s regular voice and make it…”

“Yes, I completely forgot it was possible at first.” You let out a sigh. “It’s not even that difficult. Our children learn a similar technique in school.”

“Of course Peeta’s right. The whole country adores Katniss’s little sister. If they really killed her like this, they’d probably have an uprising on their hands.” Johanna says flatly. “Don’t want that, do they?” She throws her head back to shout, “Whole country in rebellion? Wouldn’t want anything like that!”

You look at Finnick, and then out at the beach. “We should move.”

“Good idea.” Peeta agrees, sweeping Katniss into his arms.

Finnick grabs the bowl of water that was left behind, offering it to Johanna. She holds her hand out, “I’m going to pee.”

“No, don’t.” Katniss calls. “The birds—”

“They can’t hurt me. I’m not like the rest of you. There’s no one left I love,” Johanna says, walking away.

You and Finnick make your way to the beach to join Katniss and Peeta, who are now sitting in the sand. You find the wire sitting by a tree, reflecting the sunlight. Finnick places the bowl of water on top of it to keep sand from getting inside. He doesn’t stop to sit down, wandering to go be in the water.

You sit in the shade, knees against your chest as you stare at Finnick’s back. You knew he was going to keep you safe, but you didn’t realize that he was going to take every measure necessary. He pulled you away from the careers when you went to grab Beetee, took Enobaria’s knife in his thigh for you, and then dived in the water to grab the wire so you wouldn’t.

And now he’s keeping you close.

“Who did they use against Finnick?” Peeta asks.

“No one.” Katniss murmurs. “It was (Y/n) and I.” She glances at you, “Her brother.”

Peeta looks over too, curious now. “I think I remember. (Y/n), there was a tragedy, wasn’t there?”

You nod, not speaking right away. You’re surprised he even remembers, your Games took place almost eight years ago. It wasn’t a very popular one because of how boring you’d been the entire time. The only notable event was the fire that took place, eating up the entire forest that you’d been using as your shelter. It’s how the Two girl was able to find you, because you had to adventure out and pick new spots to rotate between, places she’d frequented and knew like the back of her hand.

What Peeta’s asking about isn’t about the arena and that fire. It was what happened a couple months later after you’d arrived home. You used to be bothered by people asking what happened exactly, but a few years ago, you realized that it was going to haunt you if you didn’t let it go.

You started out as a miracle, the first Three victor in a good number of years. When you didn’t follow the ideas that the people had around you, it sparked controversy. Where Beetee helped the Capitol with projects, you refused to even step foot on a train to go back if it wasn’t for mentoring.

Your parents wanted you to pursue the Capitol, in hopes that it would make a better future for generations. You didn’t listen, so they decided they were going to stay in the childhood home. Your brother was supposed to, too, except he frequently slept over at your victor house, because it was bigger and warmer.

One night, the home was set aflame. By the time you got the news, there was nothing left to salvage, whoever had done it did a thorough job. The peacekeepers investigated it for a couple months, but they stopped when they couldn’t find any more information.

It killed your parents, and your brother would be dead too, if he hadn’t stayed at your house that night, like he wasn’t supposed to.

“My childhood home burned down, killing my parents.” You tell them. “I only have my brother.”

Peeta nods, stroking Katniss’s hair. “I’m surprised they didn’t use Annie Cresta against Finnick.”

“Who?” Katniss asks.

“Annie Cresta. She was the girl Mags volunteered for. She won about five years ago.”

You raise your eyebrows, and then allow your face to relax. You don’t think about Annie much, she was one of those victors that got covered up quickly. Kinda like Johanna, except she refuses to let the light go out on her. The Capitol can’t either, because she’s the only female victor in Seven. She has to mentor tributes.

“I don’t remember those Games much.” Katniss says. “Was that the earthquake year?”

“Yeah. Annie’s the one who went mad when her district partner got beheaded. Ran off by herself and hid. But an earthquake broke a dam and most of the arena got flooded. She won because she was the best swimmer.”

“Did she get better after?” Katniss asks. “I mean, her mind?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember ever seeing her at the Games again. But she didn’t look too stable during reaping this year.” Peeta says.

“From what I heard, Finnick and Annie broke up two years ago.” You draw a figure eight in the sand. “She’s not doing well.”

That’s all hearsay, though. Information that you’d gathered over time while you mentored. Annie won, the following year, Finnick was still by himself mentoring. The year after, he was the happiest you’ve seen him in the Capitol. Then last year, he was back to who he was before.

Johanna comes out of the trees a few minutes later, arrows in hand. She drops them in a pile next to Katniss and Peeta, who murmur out a thanks. A cannon blasts, Finnick rises to come join the rest of you in watching the hovercraft. It appears over the six-to-seven zone, and dips down five different times to retrieve the pieces of one body. There’s no telling who it was.

Once again, Peeta gets a leaf to draw a new map, adding JJ for the jabberjays in the four-to-five area. He writes beast in the area the tribute was collected in pieces. With the map, you’re able to see where you sit on the clock face again.

Finnick makes a net for fishing, going out into the water to throw it. Katniss joins him to take a quick swim, and then sits at the edge of the water to clean the fish that Finnick catches. The sun sets fairly quickly in this time, the moon rising on the other side.

You’re all beginning to settle down to eat when the anthem begins, followed by the faces of the dead. Cashmere, Gloss, Beetee, Mags. The five of you sit in solemn silence, trying to be respectful for one another. The women from Five and Six, with Blight and the man from Ten pulling up the rear.

Another eight dead.

“They’re really burning through us.” Johanna says.

“Who’s left? Besides us five and District Two?” Finnick asks.

“Chaff.” Peeta says, not missing a beat.

You continue to draw in the sand, watching as a parachute comes down from behind the trees, teetering from side to side. “We’ve got a sponsor gift.”

Peeta gets to his feet, letting the parachute land in his palm. He sets it down in the middle with the rest of the food, pulling back the square of fabric, allowing you to see its bread.

That’s right.

There’s a pile of small square shaped rolls. “These are from your district, right, (Y/n)?”

“Yes, from District Three.” You lean forward. “How many are there?”

Finnick gets to counting them, being thorough by turning each one over in his hands before he sets them into a neat pile. “Twenty-four.”

“An even two dozen, then?” You ask.

“Twenty-four on the nose.” Finnick meets your eyes. “How should we divide them?”

“Let’s each have three, and whoever is still alive at breakfast can take a vote on the rest.” Johanna says, Katniss lets out a laugh.

The five of you eat the food that’s presented in front of you, passing around the water bowl to whoever asks for it. They try to keep up conversation, but you’ve already sunk back into your mind.

District Three means day three. Twenty-four rolls of bread means midnight. They want you to be at the lightning tree, don’t they? It’s perfect for the plan you went through this afternoon. Your idea to kill the careers will act as a cover for the real rebel plan that’s taking place.

When you’re done eating, the bread rolls are placed into a dry bowl to keep them safe. You retreat into the woods when the wave comes, wait for the water to recede, and then head to that part of the beach to make camp. If everything goes according to plan, there should be a full twelve hours before you have to move again.

There’s a chorus of clicking coming from the eleven-to-twelve wedge. You all agree to keep away from that area and the beach, in case the insects are waiting for misstep in that area.

Katniss and Peeta volunteer to take watch, because they’ve had the most sleep out of all of you. Johanna goes down without a fight, she’s only had an hour all day. Finnick finds a space between you and Johanna. You’re a little different, though. While they fall asleep almost instantly, you can’t find the same peace.

You get to your feet, this causes Peeta to sit up.

“Is there something wrong?” He asks.

“No, I’m just going to take a walk. I’ll stay in sight.” You tell him.

You pull off your shoes, dropping them where you’d been sitting. You then wander down the beach, even going a few steps into the water. When you’re sure that you’re far enough away from them, and they won’t be able to hear you, you stop.

A shaky breath escapes your lips as you lean over your knees. You breathe deeply in through your nose, trying to calm the aching feeling that’s growing in your throat. You sniff, closing your eyes, shaking your head.

Beetee was more than your mentor. He turned into your second parent after yours died. He made sure that you settled into your house, that you were sound enough to take care of your brother on your own. He even got Wiress to offer to volunteer for you, if you weren’t up for this.

And now he’s gone.

You can’t help the tears that escape, placing a hand over your mouth as you sob into your fingers. You knew that there were going to be sacrifices made, he even warned you that there was a good possibility that you could die, too. You just never thought it would be him.

You get tired of standing, opting to sit in the water. It’s warm, not at all refreshing. You don’t care, you don’t want to go back over there. It’s clear Katniss and Peeta needed time by themselves. You don’t want to see the looks on their faces either, when they realize you’ve been crying.

You just hope Zero is being good for Wiress. The victors are all supposed to watch over him together, but she said that she’d keep a close eye. Zero told you he wouldn’t get into any trouble, it’s hard to believe him. He’s got the whole house to himself and no older sister to limit him. He has to have some idea of what kind of danger he’s in though, right?

A crack of lightning hits the tree, altering you that it’s now midnight, officially bringing you into the third day. You hear a shout coming from camp, and when you turn to look, you see that Finnick is sitting up in the sand. He looks to where your shoes are, and then his head whips in your direction.

You sigh, getting to your feet. Either you go back, or he’s going to come over here. You walk through the water most of the way, enjoying the way the water laps over your feet. When you get there, Katniss is just laying down, Finnick is taking her spot.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Finnick asks.

“I’m not tired.” You tell him, which is part of the truth. You did sleep most of the night last night, but if you were to lie down again, you’d be left to your thoughts. Same if you stayed away. “I’ll stay with Finnick, Peeta. Go ahead and be with Katniss.”

“Are you sure?” Peeta asks, he’s getting to his feet.

“Yeah.”

Katniss looks over her shoulder, watching as Peeta goes to join her. You sit where Peeta had been, which faces the jungle. You cross your legs, stabbing the knife Finnick gave you into the sand, and leaving it there.

Neither of you speak for a long while. Katniss and Peeta must fall asleep fairly quickly, wrapped around each other. You brush the sand from your legs once it’s dried.

“I’m sorry about Mags, I know how close you two were.” You murmur.

“Thank you, (Y/n).” He says. It’s quiet between you two for a moment. “You were wrong, you know.”

Your eyebrows twitch. You turn your head far enough to see the back of his shoulder. “About what?”

“Annie.”

You press your lips together, he must’ve heard you talking earlier to Katniss and Peeta. “I’m sorry, Finnick. I didn’t mean for it to be malicious.”

“We never dated.” He says. “She was my best friend before she went into the Games. Recently, we haven’t been as close.” He shakes his head, you can feel his hair brush the back of yours. “I was surprised they didn’t use her against me during the jabberjays, and then I realized that it must be because we’re not even friends anymore.”

“What happened between the two of you?” You ask, “If you want to talk about it.”

“It’s a short story.” He pauses. “She started getting better after her Games, so I started to visit her more. And when I thought that she could handle it, I asked her if she’d take over mentoring temporarily.”

You hum. “She wasn’t ready?”

“She called me selfish, we stopped speaking altogether.” He sighs. “I guess the Capitol has eyes everywhere.”

“Of course they do. You really thought they didn’t?” You laugh slightly.

“I had hope.” He chuckles, letting out a breath. “Did you work out the details to your plan, yet?”

“Yes, actually. And I think it’ll be a perfect addition to the plan.” You elbow him, as a way to nudge him into your line of process.

“Really? Let’s hear it.” He says.

“We should wait for the others.” You tell him.

“What, are you afraid that I’m going to claim the idea belongs to me?”

You laugh, “No, I guess I could tell you.” You clear your throat, “I was thinking, if we want to take out the careers, we should do it tomorrow night. The wire isn’t completely useless. See, the wave happens at ten, which makes the sand damp, and with the lightning at midnight, it could work as a conductor. We could electrocute the shit out of them when they come down to the beach, thinking it's safe.

“Or… for something else, if we find it.”

Finnick laughs, “That’s a great idea, (Y/n). This is with all the kinks worked out?”

“More or less.”

“I’m glad you’re here, I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“You’d survive, figure it out on your own but a little slower.” You look down at the beach. “You don’t need me here.”

Finnick moves behind you, you look over your shoulder to see that he’s turned to face you. “That’s not true, you need to give yourself more credit.”

“Fine, you’d be lost without me.”

“I mean it, (Y/n). We need you here. You’re just as important.”

You give him a smile. “Thanks.”

—

As much as you wanted to be the one to keep Finnick company for the night, Johanna woke up a couple hours later and insisted that she swap with you. You didn’t feel tired, but laid down anyway. Sure enough, you went out like a light once your eyes were closed.

You didn’t sleep for long, the arena is unusually hot today. The sand is burning your sensitive skin, which you’ve opted to occasionally splash water onto in order to keep cool. It works, partially. The water is warm, but if you time it right, it’s perfectly paired with a breeze.

You kick water in Finnick’s direction, he looks up from his trident, giving you a challenging head tilt. A warning that if you continue, he’ll come over here and teach you a lesson. You give him an innocent look, and then go back to standing knee-deep in the water.

Katniss stirs on the beach, rolling over to squint at the sun angrily. She’s going to have to get in line if she wants to explode the damn thing. None of you are happy with the Gamemakers right now.

You turn to look at the jungle, and find another parachute coming down from the sky. “Sponsor gift.”

Peeta and Johanna look up from the leaf map that he made last night. Finnick gets to his feet, taking a few steps and catching the gift before it hits the sand. You get out of the water, joining them in what little shade is covering the beach. When he sets it down, you’re able to see that it’s more bread, twenty-four rolls, all coming from District Three again.

It’s divided so that everyone gets five, leaving eight left over. You eat in silence, listening to the waves eat up the sand, and then retreat again. You play with the end of the wire, twisting it into a spiral, before pulling it straight. You need to tell them about the plan you’ve made, it just has to be done at the right time.

Katniss gets up, grabbing Peeta’s hand, pulling him in the direction of the water, “Come on. I’ll teach you how to swim.”

He doesn’t fight her. The three of you watch as they go about waist-deep into the water, then she begins to teach him basic strokes. Finnick gets up to collect vines, strategically weaving them into a net. While Johanna refuses to take her eyes off of the teenagers for longer than ten seconds at a time.

She must be worried that they’re going to run off, but if that were the case, Katniss wouldn’t have left her bow here. The only thing they can do now is talk to one another, which is what they did last night, too. If they try to leave, they’re not going to make it very far. They’ll be hunted down within the hour.

Johanna yawns, “I’m going to nap, wake me if anything interesting happens.”

She scoots back so that her upper body is protected from the sun. She uses her arm as a pillow, and bends her other arm over her eyes to make it easier to sleep.

“You can sleep, too. You don’t have to sit with me.” Finnick says.

“I’m fine.” You shrug.

Finnick works quickly, creating the net in a circular shape. He explains to you that if it’s bunched up, he can throw it a certain way and it’ll expand and cover more water. You stare at him for a few long seconds, wondering if he thinks you’re stupid or if it’s the other way around.

“You mean… a casting net?” You ask slowly.

Finnick blinks, “You know what a casting net is?”

“Finnick, I know what a lot of things are.” You breathe a laugh. “A casting net is one of them.”

He smiles, shaking his head. “Right.”

“Hey, Finnick, come on in! We figured out how to make you pretty again!” Katniss waves her hand.

He looks up from the sand, eyebrows drawing in. She’s talking about the scabs that they’re completely covered in, which was a result of the ointment they used because of the poisonous fog. Finnick gets to his feet, leaving the net next to you as he goes over to join them.

You watch as the three of them use handfuls of sand to rub off the scabs gently. They take turns helping each other get the ones on their back. When they’re done, they come out of the water to apply another round of the medicine because their skin isn’t taking well to the sun.

“I think it’s time we talk about the careers,” You tell them. “I doubt they’ll attack us openly again, now that they’re outnumbered. We could track them down, but it’s dangerous to pursue them.”

“Do you think they’ve figured out about the clock?” Katniss asks.

“If they haven’t, they’ll figure it out soon, just not as specifically as we have. They must know that at least some of the zones are wired for attacks and that they’re recurring. And the fact that our last fight was cut off by Gamemaker intervention will not pass over their heads, as much as we’d like to think it will.

“We know it was an attempt to disorient us, but they’re going to be asking why it happened, and that might lead them to the clock idea, as well.”

“Wait, let me get Johanna up.” FInnick says. “She’ll be rabid if she thinks she missed something this important.”

“Or not.” Katniss mutters, you tilt your head, agreeing with her.

Still, he gets Johanna awake and up to speed. She crosses her arms, staring at you intensely. You squint at her briefly, before making Katniss and Peeta scoot back.

You draw a circle in the sand, dividing it into twelve wedges. “If you were Brutus and Enobaria, knowing what you do now about the jungle, where would you feel safest?” You ask, looking between them.

“Where we are now. On the beach.” Peeta says. “It’s the safest place.”

“So why aren’t they on the beach?”

“Because we’re here.” Johanna sighs impatiently. “Is there a point to this?”

You ignore her. “Exactly, we’re here, claiming the beach. Now where would you go?”

No one speaks for a second, until Katniss does, “I’d hide just at the edge of the jungle. So I could escape if an attack came. And so I could spy on us.”

“Also to eat,” Finnicks ays. “The jungle’s full of strange creatures and plants. But by watching us, I’d know the seafood’s safe.”

You smile, “Of course, now that we’re all on the same page, here’s what I propose: a twelve o’clock strike. What happens at noon and at midnight?”

“The lightning bolt hits the tree.” Katniss says.

“Yes, so what I’m going to suggest is that after the bolt hits at noon, but before it hits at midnight, we run Beetee’s wire from that tree all the way down into the saltwater, which is, of course, highly conductive. When the bolt strikes, the electricity will travel down the wire and into not only the water but also the surrounding beach, which will still be damp from the wave at ten. Anyone in contact with those surfaces at that time will be electrocuted.”

Silence takes over as the words sink in, you let them think it over. You’ve had more time to work out the finer details of the plan between telling Finnick last night and this morning. You’ve found every issue, and carefully ironed it out. If it works the way you want it to, you’ll be all set for Haymitch’s plan.

The looks on their faces are giving you different ideas on what they want to say. Peeta starts first. “Will that wire really be able to conduct that much power, (Y/n)? It looks so fragile, like it would just burn up.”

“Oh, it will, but not until the current has passed through it. It will act something like a fuse. Except the electricity will travel along it.” You play with the wire.

“How do you know?” Johanna asks.

You take in a breath, “I have come to realize that Beetee invented it.” You look at her. “I’ve worked with wire, and this isn’t any wire, it’s the one he created. It’s not wire in the usual sense, just like how the lightning natural lighting or that tree a real tree. You know trees better than any of us, Johanna. It would be destroyed by now, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.” She nods.

“There’s no need to worry about the wire. It’ll do its job.”

“And where will we be when this happens?” Finnick asks.

“Far enough up in the jungle to be safe.” You tell him.

“The careers will be safe, too, then, unless they’re in the vicinity of the water.” Katniss says.

“That’s right.” You agree.

“But all the seafood will be cooked.” Peeta objects.

“A lot more than cooked.” You laugh. “We will be eliminating that as a food source entirely this way, but Katniss found other edible things in the jungle, right?”

“Yes. Nuts and rats.” She says. “And we have sponsors.”

“I don’t see it as a problem, then.” You smile. “This isn’t something I can do on my own. I say we go for it, but it can’t get done without you four. The decision on whether or not we do it is up to you.”

Katniss looks between them. “Why not? If it fails, there’s no harm done. If it works, there’s a decent chance we’ll kill them. And even if we don’t and just kill the seafood, Brutus and Enobaria lose it as a food source, too.”

“I say we try it. Katniss is right.” Peeta nods.

Finnick looks at Johanna. They share a long look while she decides. “All right.” She finally says. “It’s better than hunting them down in the jungle, anyway. And I doubt they’ll figure out our plan, since we can barely understand it ourselves.”

Finnick then looks to you, “What’s next, (Y/n)?”

You smile. “I need to take a look at the tree.”

The five of you get to pack up your belongings, with Katniss telling you that she believes it has to be somewhere around nine in the morning. You have to leave the beach soon, anyway. When everyone is ready, you head to the beach that bordered the lightning section, and Johanna takes lead into the jungle.

Finnick follows after her, then you, and Peeta and Katniss take up the rear. It’s a straight shot up to the tree, there’s no need for directions. The further you travel, the harder it is to convince yourself it was a good idea to hike. You hated it during the first day, too, but you didn’t complain nearly as much as Beetee did. To be fair, though, he did have a nasty gash on his back.

You hum a short tune, which earns you a glare from Johanna. You pretend you don’t see it, because the silence is killing you. The birds aren’t nearly as vocal here, they were much louder in the blood rain wedge. Then again, after yesterday, you’re not sure if you want to see a bird for the next year.

When you begin to near the top, Finnick makes a suggestion that Katniss should take the lead.

“Why is that?” You ask, beating Johanna to the question.

“Katniss can hear the force field.” He says.

Your face twists, and so does your body as you go to take a look at Katniss. You and Beetee were the ones that showed her in the first place, in the gymnasium. You were sitting together at the fire station, fixated on how the Gamemakers decided they needed the protection. That’s when Katniss came along and enlightened you; she’d shot an arrow at them last year.

However, the force field doesn’t have a noise to it. It didn’t in the gymnasium, and it didn’t when you got close to Blight’s body. What Finnick is saying right now isn’t possible, otherwise there’d be a constant hum in the arena depending on how close you were to the force field.

“Only with the ear the Captiol reconstructed.” Katniss tells you.

That’s bullshit, and she knows it too. Maybe this has something to do with Peeta running into the force field on the first day. She chose not to tell them what she knew, possibly afraid of what the Gamemakers would do with it.

“Interesting.” Is all you say, moving out of the way to let her pass.

The lightning tree is unmistakable. It towers high above the trees that surround it. Katniss takes a handful of nuts, slowly moving toward the top. You peer around her, and when you see a square ripple, you know that you have plenty of room to work with.

Katniss throws a nut, which hits the wall and sizzles. “Just stay below the lightning tree.”

With that, everyone divides up different jobs while you take a closer look at the tree. Finnick follows you, continuing his guarding duty. Johanna decides to tap a tree for water, while Peeta gathers nuts and Katniss wanders away briefly to hunt for the tree rats.

You stare at the tree, arms crossed over your chest as you think. Finnick stands beside you, trident in his hand, occasionally glancing at you to see if your face has changed. You can’t imagine how boring this must be to him, especially when he has no clue what you’re looking for.

You take the spool of wire, find it between your fingers to see how thick it is. With how tightly its wound, there’s got to be miles of the wire. You won’t have to worry about running out of it between wrapping it around the tree and bringing it back down to the beach.

Speaking of the tree, it doesn’t look right now that you’re standing in front of it. You knew that it wasn’t a real tree, but you thought the inside of it would be the artificial stuff, not the outside. You run your fingers over the bark, and find that it’s weirdly patterned.

When you look at the trees behind you, the appearance of those are completely different. It’s almost like the Gamemakers made half an effort at trying to hide that it’s not real. Or maybe, making the bark anything other than fake could increase the potential of setting the entire jungle on fire.

You wander around the tree, and Finnick follows for a while, but when he sees that you’re making rounds in circles, he steps back and watches you. You measure the tree, thinking about how much wire it’s going to take to make the plan actually work. The base is thicker than you thought it would be.

You stop at the sound of the wave, which causes the others to pause, too. A few minutes later, Katniss comes out of the trees, bearing three tree rats. She draws a line in the dirt to remind everyone how far away they must stay from the force field, and then proceeds to sit with Peeta to roast nuts and sear cubes of meat.

Johanna joins them after she’s had enough of making fun of you to Finnick, who seems less than interested by the names she’s calling you. You stop between the force field and the tree, looking at the malfunctioning square, then back at the bark. You wonder…

You break off a piece of the bark, which doesn’t come easily. Katniss tells you and Finnick that the food is ready when you are, so as you go over, you toss the bark against the force field. It bounces off, landing on the ground, glowing a bright orange color. It takes about a minute for it to return back to the original bark color.

“Huh,” You let out, “Well, that explains a lot.”

The bark and the force field are made of the same material. You should’ve guessed.

You take a seat next to Finnick, picking at the nuts and meat chunks.

“I have a question.” Your attention turns to Katniss, Peeta and Finnick. “Regarding Peeta and the force field situation. What happened, exactly?”

“Peeta was clearing a way with his machete and he hit the force field.” Finnick tells you.

“With the machete?” You ask, “And what happened to the force field?”

Finnick shakes his head, and Peeta looks lost too. Katniss, however, sighs, “It disappeared, and then it came back.”

You hum. Whatever you do around the lightning tree must be with precaution from now on. You’re not an expert on the force field subject—Beetee would’ve known more—but weapons cannot come into contact with it. You think that’s where the problems will arise, since you were able to touch it with your hands.

The sound of clicking nearby causes the rest of you to glance in the direction. It’s eleven, only an hour left until twelve. The noise is far louder here than it was on the beach last night. You quiet to listen.

“It’s not mechanical.” You tell them after a minute.

“It has to be insects.” Katniss says. “Maybe beetles.”

“Something with pincers.” Finnick adds.

The sound increases, as if the insects are dying to get to you.

“We should get out of here, anyway.” Johanna says. “There’s less than an hour before the lightning starts.”

Katniss brings you to the next section over, which happens to be the blood rain area, stopping next to the identical tree here. With food being interrupted before, you resume here, finishing what’s left in the bowls. You wait until Katniss is done eating and the insects fade out, before you ask her to climb the tree to get a better look for you when the lightning strikes.

It shakes the ground, you and Johanna share a look. You might not like each other, but the uneasiness begins to stir in your stomach. The idea of being here, only an hour before the rain, makes you feel sick. You don’t want to be covered again, not if you can help it.

Katniss comes down from the tree a few minutes later. She goes on to tell you that the lightning takes the entire tree, which makes it glow a hot blue-white. The air up there was crackling with electricity.

“Perfect.” You murmur.

With that, you feel satisfied enough to go back down to the beach. The sand is damp, clear of any footprints until the five of you begin to step on it, leaving a clear trail wherever you walk. There’s nothing to do beyond this point but wait, you fiddle with the wire, wrapping it around a large stick to see how much it would take to make a dent, since it’s so thin.

Katniss, Peeta and Johanna lay down to sleep. Finnick watches you curiously, occasionally asking questions that you’re more than happy to answer for him. By the time the lightning has stopped and the rain has begun, you’ve decided that you’ll have to work quickly tonight, and might even need help.

You yawn, Finnick’s eyes snap to you. “Sleep.”

“Finnick.” You warn, “I’m fine.”

“We need you at your best. If anything happens, I’ll wake you.”

You sigh, not really wanting to argue with him. You make him promise to keep an eye on the wire, before joining the others in the shadows to nap.

—

A hand roughly grabbing your bare calf jolts you awake. You sweep the knife out of the sand, swinging it to stab while you open your eyes to see who it is. Another hand grabs your wrist, and you’re met with Finnick’s cheeky face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you like that.” Finnick lets go of you. “Johanna pushed me over.” Johanna’s standing behind him, her arms crossed, staring down at you. She laughs, and then turns away. “We’ve got more food, if you’re hungry.”

You shake your head, “No, but I’ll sit with you.”

The others are only a few feet away, shifted to let you sleep but also to chase the shade, since it’s growing slimmer. Finnick must’ve woven more bowls, because the amount has multiplied. Finnick reaches to help Katniss and Peeta clean out the seafood, while Johanna wanders around in the treeline to keep an eye out for the careers.

Peeta pops open an oyster, laughing. “Hey, look at this!” He holds up a glistening pearl. “You know, if you put enough pressure on coal it turns to pearls.” He says to Finnick.

“No, it doesn’t.” Finnick says, cleaning a fish. Katniss laughs, you give a smile.

Peeta rinses it off in a bowl that holds unopened oysters, handing it to Katniss. “For you.”

She lets him set it in her palm. “Thanks.”

Peeta’s smile fades. “The locket didn’t work, did it?” He asks, you avert your eyes. “Katniss?”

“It worked.” She says.

“But not in the way I wanted it to.”

Silence, as they shuck open shellfish and oysters. You watch as Finnick easily cuts away scales, making squares beneath, and shaking them free into a bowl. He works quickly, he must’ve been doing this whole life. He even feels comfortable enough to look away for several seconds, into your eyes.

“You’re going to cut your hand.” You tell him.

“I won’t.” He says, tossing the fish scrap into the trees. “Do you want to try?”

“No, I’d rather watch.”

He smirks, getting to work on another fish. In the time it takes them to finish what they’re doing, you’re a little hungry. Johanna’s just coming to sit down with you four, when she stops at the sight of another sponsor gift. She catches it, and when she sets it down, you’re able to see that it’s a red sauce for the seafood, and another pile of bread.

Finnick counts them, “Twenty-four again.”

So it’s settled, the plan is happening at midnight, tonight.

With there being thirty-two rolls in total—eight being leftover from this morning—it’s divided so that everyone gets five again, leaving seven. You dip a chunk of fish into the red sauce, and the moment it touches your tongue, you close your eyes, letting out a hum.

“It’s good?” Finnick asks, reaching to do the same.

“It’s spicy.” You tell him. “So much better.”

It improves the flavor, making you hungrier. While they gorge themselves on everything in front of them, you take your time, not wanting to be so full that you feel like throwing up. You still have to hike up the hill, and it’ll be more difficult than this morning after a meal.

The red sauce is completely gone by the time they’re done, and there’s still food left over. They make sure that you’re full, and then they toss the leftovers into the sea because it won’t be good in a couple of hours. And no one wants to give the careers an opportunity to eat.

Katniss and Peeta go to sit on the edge of the water. Johanna goes back to patrolling, and you and Finnick sit and do nothing. That is, until he gets up to talk to Johanna away from you. You pull your knees to your chest, leaning forward into them, staring absently into the jungle.

The anthem plays a couple of hours later, but there are no faces in the sky tonight. The only people left in the arena are your group, the careers, and your missing member of the bigger alliance. There will be no more deaths until the careers.

When Finnick and Katniss believe nine o’clock has rolled around, you leave the shell infested camp to go to the twelve wedge. No one speaks as the hike begins, but it’s clear in the first ten minutes that they’ve eaten too much, because they’re walking at a slower pace. Miraculously, you feel just fine.

At the tree, Finnick takes point being your help, while the other three stand guard nearby. You pick up a branch, wrapping it in wire, and then make Finnick stand on the other side of the tree, as you pass it back and forth. You’re not sure if he notices, but you have him help you do it in a pattern, slowly drifting downward, and then back up, and then down again, covering as much of the bark as you can.

Your fingers brush his each time you hand it off, and you have to hold your breath to kill the butterflies that swarm.

You’re done with the wire around the time the wave begins. You gather together, holding the wire out for Johanna. You take your time explaining to them that this part is crucial. They need to carefully unwind the wire as they go down through the jungle, lay it across the beach, and throw it as deep into the water as they possibly can.

“Johanna and Katniss should take it, because they’ll be quicker. I’ll stay up here to make sure nothing goes wrong on our end.”

“I want to go with them as a guard.” Peeta says, shaking his head.

“You’re too slow.” You tell him flatly. “We can all see it. Besides, I’ll need you on this end. Katniss will guard.” You look at Katniss. “There’s no time to debate this. I’m sorry. If they want to get out of there alive, they need to move now.”

“It’s okay.” Katniss says. “We’ll just drop the coil and come straight back up.”

“In the one-to-two sector, not in the lightning zone.” You tell her. “If you’re running out of time, move over one more. Don’t even think about going back on the beach, until I can take a look at it.”

Katniss cups Peeta’s face. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you at midnight.” She kisses him, turning to Johanna. “Ready?”

“Why not?” Johanna shrugs. “You guard, I’ll unwind. We can trade off later.”

The two of them begin to go down the slope, you barely look at Peeta, eyes landing on Finnick. He spins the trident in his hand, and then he moves away to watch the jungle. You cross your arms, standing close to the wire, watching as it goes rigid from them pulling it on the way down.

You pace, taking measured breaths to calm the anxiousness rising. It’s not the wire you’re worried about, it’s the rescue plan. You have less than two hours to pull this off and get lifted out of the arena. Hopefully you’ll be all together by then, making it an easy rescue.

You just hope they already have your brother somewhere safe. If you get out of here, and they don’t have Zero, you’re not sure if the rebels will bother keeping you around. You won’t help. You swear you don’t lift a finger to help them. It’s what you did after your Games, it’s what you’ll do now if they go back on their promise.

It’s almost twenty minutes later, right when the clicking has begun, the wire snaps, you turn to look at where the sound had come from. You watch as it bunches and curls, stopping at the tops of your shoes.

“Finnick.” You say, but he’s trying to make a swipe at Peeta.

He’s gone, running down the slope, leaving you and Finnick to stand there, dumbfounded. It has to be the careers, they’re not on the beach. They’ve been stalking you the entire time. And now that you’re split, it’s the perfect time to attack.

“Stay here.” Finnick orders, running after Peeta. “Stay!”

He disappears into the jungle, leaving you by the tree. A part of you wonders if you should go running after him, because he’s supposed to be guarding you. You know better than to move, your feet firmly planted in the grass and dirt. The careers won’t come here, they’re too busy.

Your hand reaches to grab onto the tree, needing something to lean onto, because the ache in your feet is beginning to become unbearable. Finnick told you to stay here, so that’s what you do. You won’t move a muscle, if it means that you make it out of this jungle tonight.

You don’t know how much time passes before a cannon goes, fifteen minutes, maybe? You hold your breath, waiting, straining to hear if there’s any yelling happening out there. Finnick calling for Katniss and Johanna, Peeta calling for Katniss, anything.

It’s too quiet.

Your eyes slide to see the stick that you’d set aside earlier, as well as yards of the wire that you’d unraveled to have on standby in the case of an emergency. If your plan didn’t work. While it was supposed to electrify and kill the careers, there was a good chance that it’d short-circuit the force field, too.

Now, with the wire here and nowhere near the water, you need another way to fry the field. No one is going to make it out of this arena alive if you don’t fix this.

A new idea creeps into your mind, whispering in your ear, telling you that a sacrifice has to be made. Your eyes go from the stick, to the malfunctioned square on the force field that you’d spotted earlier, finding that it is, still, very much there. If you can’t do it through water, you can surely do it with the tree and the force field, you just need something to act in between…

The knife.

You move for the first time in thirty minutes, falling to your knees as you dig through the grass to find the knife that Finnick gave you in the Cornucopia. You find it only a few feet away, pulling it into your hands. You then remove the wire from the stick, wrapping it around the blade, instead.

You look at the force field, taking deep breaths to calm the beating in your chest. This could go two ways. The first way is that you drive this knife into the square, your fingers lock around the handle of the knife, and you die. Or, you get electrocuted, and by some miracle you walk out of this alive.

That’s all you want. To get out of here, and have a chance at seeing your brother again. He can’t live in this world without you, he won’t do it. He’ll have no one if you die. But, if this means that he won’t have to live in fear of the Hunger Games, then you’ll do it.

You’ll do it a thousand times.

You get to your feet, gripping and fixing the knife in your hand. You approach the force field, swinging your arm back, aiming for the square. And the second it connects, there’s a loud zapping sound, and then you’re airborne.

—

You breathe in deeply through your nose, as if you haven’t in the past ten minutes. A tight and sharp pain hits the center of your chest, stopping you in the middle. Your eyes open, staring at the bright, silvery light overhead as you try to carefully let the air out.

Your eyebrows draw in, turning your head to the side, blinking away the blurry vision. There’s several beds to your right, and on one of them, it looks like Katniss Everdeen is hooked up to machines, tubes in her arms. They did it, they got you out. Where’s everyone else?

You can’t help the groan you let out as you sit up, wincing. You place a hand over your lower stomach, and you’re able to see that your skin is covered in soot and blood. You rub it away the bed you can, swinging your legs off the bed to get on your feet.

If it were the Capitol that got you out, they would’ve sedated you, and ensured that you wouldn’t wake up during the ride. This is the work of Haymitch, letting you wake up on your own to go to them.

You drag your feet through the room, leaving Katniss as you pass through a doorway, entering a narrow hallway. With your free hand, you reach to hold onto the wall as you go. Your forearm is bandaged, they must’ve gotten the tracker out. It seems as if their stitching could use work, because there’s blood seeping through, more than there should be.

You don’t care.

The metal door at the end of the hall is open a quarter of the way. You push it open, and on the other side, you can see Haymitch, Finnick, and the Head Gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee.

Haymitch looks up first, letting out a noise, prompting the other two to look. “Back from the dead.”

“(Y/n).” Finnick breathes. He’s dressed in a grey robe, the same that you are. He shuffles around the table, opening his arms.

You let him hug you, pulling you into his body tightly. You squeeze your eyes, the pain being more than you were prepared for, but you laugh, hugging him back.

“It was a smart idea, trying the knife on the force field.” Plutarch tells you. “It’s what sparked Katniss to do the same. It caused some chaos, we weren’t able to get everyone out, but we didn’t expect to, anyway.”

You pull away from the hug, “Who did we leave?”

“Johanna and Peeta.” Haymitch says.

Your eyebrows twitch, “Who was the cannon?”

“Chaff,” Finnick says. “I don’t think you were awake when the other cannon went off. Peeta killed Brutus.”

“What about Enobaria?”

“Taken by the Capitol, as well.” Plutarch says.

“Oh.” You breathe, “Is there somewhere I can sit?” Finnick leads you to a chair, your whole body aches when you go to sit down. When the motion is done, the relief is immediate. “So, where to now?”

“District Thirteen.”

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cherrygirlfriend · 1 month ago

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kook!reader and pope going apple-picking

warnings: fluffy! i've had this on my mind for a MONTH bc i got a bunch of free apples and baked like... four apple pies in the matter of two days. but i wanted to wait until it was all fall-y to post it. (also the among us shirt was inspired by an actual t-shirt i saw at the thrift store. i do have a short little bonus part coming for this soon!!

something unexpected that pope learned about you was that you loved fall. he would've always thought you'd prefer summer; your personality was basically that of the literal sun, but the moment there was a small breeze in the air and you spotted the first orange leaf on the ground, you'd picked it up and called him, telling him how you were going to put it in your scrapbook.

so, it really shouldn't have been a surprise to him that one morning, you'd show up to his room, basically trying to pull him up, and after he pulled you into bed and you two laid there together for an hour and the dog that was basically yours, but technically his, came to lick his face, he finally got up.

your boyfriend kept asking you where you were taking him as you drove, the little bichon sleeping snugly in his arms in the passenger seat of your car, but you wouldn't tell, simply humming along to the girly pop song playing in your stereo with a wide smile on your face.

"where are we, exactly?" pope asked when you two finally arrived to your destination, a small farm right between figure 8 and the cut.

"we're at mr. parker's farm, duh."

"don't duh me, i know that." he said with a small chuckle, bumping your shoulder lightly with his, "i mean, what are we doing here?"

"oh," you chuckled, taking something from the backseat, and when you held the thing up, he noticed it was two large wicker baskets, "well, mrs. parker is teaching me how to crochet, and i mentioned how i really want to pick some apples and bake apple pie, so she said that they had way too many apples growing and she said that if i wanted to, i could come pick some, as long as i bring them a few slices of apple pie to try."

"babe," he chuckled as you handed him the other basket, starting to lead him to where mrs. parker had shown you the apple trees were, blanche's leash on your other hand, the dog excitedly following, "i'm not sure which part i should address; the fact that you're friends with a 60-year-old, that she's teaching you how to crochet, or that she let you pick apples just for a few slices of apple pie."

"josephine is a very nice lady." you look at him pointedly, "and crocheting is relaxing. supposedly. for me it's still a bit confusing. but i wanna make blanche a sweater one day."

"you know, most dogs hate clothes."

"our dog wouldn't. i can see the way she looks at my dresses, and how she barks at your t-shirts like she wants to rip them apart."

"hey! what's wrong with my t-shirts?"

you look at him blankly, "my grandpa dresses better than you. you wore a shirt that had an among us character the color of the italian flag holding a plate of spaghetti with the text 'impasta' underneath it for our second date."

"that was jj's, my shirt got all muddy..." pope mumbled, scratching the back of his neck, but soon you two arrive in front of an apple orchard miles long, the boy's eyes widening. "yeah, that's... definitely a lot of apples."

you chuckled, taking his hand as you pulled him further into the orchard, the little dog following behind you, and before you knew it, you were stood on a wooden stepping ladder, reaching up for apples and throwing them into the second basket, the first one already full of both red and green apples.

"you know, you don't have to hold onto me, i'm a big girl, i won't fall." you chuckled, pope's hands holding onto your waist, "if you just picked some apples yourself, we'd be done a lot faster."

"i know you." and by the tone of his voice, you could tell he was looking at you pointedly even though he was behind you, "if i let go of you, you're gonna fall, and you'll probably get concussed."

"alright, i know that i can be a bit clumsy-"

"a bit? remember when you tripped on my charger last week? when it wasn't plugged into anything? or when your shirt got caught in the doorknob and you hit your head on it? or the time you broke your leg falling down three stairs because you were looking at pictures of your celebrity crush? or-"

"alright, alright, i'm clumsy!" you puffed, taking his hands off your waist. "you can stand there for safety, but no holding on. i gotta focus and your hands are really warm it disturbs me. besides, the broken leg was when i was fifteen. i never should've told you.

"she's in denial." he said to blanche, laying on a small blanket on the ground that you had brought with you for him, letting out a small yip, as if in agreement.

"hey! don't turn my baby against me."

"well, she's my baby too."

"well, if you're not careful about what you say, soon we'll have to co-parent." you huffed, continuing to pick apples, the boy simply laughing at your 'threat.'

he watched as you continued picking apples, humming along to the same song you were listening to in the car, a fond smile on his face, yet as you rose to your feet to pick the last apple, standing on the very edge of the stepping ladder, he noticed the wooden thing wobble, his eyes widening.

but as you got your feet stable, it was already too late, the stepping ladder already starting to fall to it's side, your eyes widening when you realized what was happening.

you closed your eyes tightly when you started falling, and as you felt your body fall against the hard ground, something was under your head, softening the blow.

hearing a soft groan next to you, you opened your eyes, finding pope laying on the ground next to you, his arm under your head. "your head weighs a lot."

"what are you doing?" you chuckled softly.

"well, i knew i wouldn't be able to catch you, and since the ladder isn't that tall so you'd mostly get away with bruises anyway, but you could still get a concussion or a head injury from that height, so i estimated where you'd fall and made sure my arm was under it."

"you know, you could've just said something cheesy, like 'because i wanted to protect your pretty head', you textbook."

"oh."

"you know you could've broken your arm or something."

"and you could've let me hold onto you."

you laughed softly, shaking your head before rolling onto him, pressing your lips on his, the boy's lips warm against yours, bringing your hand to his cheek.

when you pulled away from the kiss, he looked at you with a slightly dazed look on his face before he broke into a grin. "thanks for protecting my head."

"anytime."

#pope heyward #outer banks #pope obx #outer banks fanfiction #pope x reader #pope outer banks #pope heyward x reader #pope heyward x y/n #pope heyward x you #pope heyward fluff #obx fandom #obx #outer banks fluff #outer banks fic #jonathan daviss #obx cast

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lovebugism · 1 year ago

Note

can I request steeb calming down shy!reader after having a panic attack? maybe she gets overwhelmed with how many people are around and just kinda breaks down?

hi anon! thank you so much for your request!! tw for mentions of panic attacks

You’re grateful Eddie let you ride out your panic attack in the back of his van — even if it did come on right before his show.

You can hear the muffled metal music from where you sit in the back lot of The Hideout. You swear you can feel the ground vibrating from the pounding drums and screeching guitar. Or maybe that’s just you, trembling like a leaf or like a chihuahua that has more anxiety than can fit in its tiny body.

“It’s okay,” Steve murmurs to you for the hundredth time. His chest is pressed into your shoulder, and his mouth is right next to your ear. He wants to make sure his assurances don’t get lost in the war raging in your head. “You’re good, okay? I promise. You’re aces, babe.”

He sits with you in the open trunk of the van, your legs dangling off the back of it. He’s wrapped one of Eddie’s blankets around your shoulders, too. The handmade quilt smells like cigarette smoke and woody cologne and boyhood. The foreign scent doesn’t ease your panic, but it doesn’t make it worse either. It does, however, quell your full-body shivers.

You lean your weight against the boy beside you as you take in uneven, ragged breaths.

Steve, strong enough to hold you up in more ways than one, wraps one arm around your shoulder and uses his free one to grasp your clammy hands. He lets you dig crescent-shaped marks into his skin instead of your own.

“I can’t catch my breath,” you rasp, gripping his hands tighter. I feel like I’m dying, is what you really want to say.

“I know, I know. It feels like that, but you’re okay. I promise,” the boy coos to you. His lips press into the crown of your head and linger there. “Try and match my breathing if you can, okay? Yours is going way too fast right now. That’s why you’re panicking.”

His chest rises against your cheek with a deep inhale and stills for a moment. His exhale is warm against your forehead when his chest deflates again.

You try your best to mimic it, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth in time with him, but yours aren’t as confident as his. Mostly because you’re pretty sure your throat will tighten at any moment, and you’ll stop breathing altogether.

But the way Steve holds you is warmer than the blanket he’s curled you in. You feel less like you’re inching toward your grave.

Eventually, you start to focus on the rise and fall of his chest. And the smell of his cologne, musky and sweet. And the freckle on the wrist of the hand he holds you with — you’ve never noticed it before now.

You forget you were ever panicking in the first place.

“There you go,” Steve lilts quietly to you. He smooths a wide hand up and down your arm. You feel his smile curl into your hair. “Told ya. You’re perfect, babe.”

He tries to pull back from you to see more of your face, but you only press further against him when he tries. The wave hasn’t yet passed, he figures, the panic still eats at you and you don’t feel totally safe yet. Like a child with a make-believe boogeyman in their closet, he lets you cuddle into him like a life-sized teddy bear.

“You’re okay?” he murmurs.

You’re not sure yet. You nod anyway. “Yeah,” you answer, quiet and fragile. “I’m okay.”

“What was freaking you out, huh? Was it the music? Was it too loud?”

You shake your head against his shoulder.

“Was it that asshole that bumped into you?” he asks, getting angry about it all over again.

“Kinda. There was just… a lot going on. Too many people, you know? I wasn’t— I wasn’t prepared,” you sniffle.

Steve sighs against you. A tender hand squeezes your arm. “I know. I’m sorry, babe. I really didn’t expect that many people to show up to a Corroded Coffin show—”

“That’s mean…” you lilt quietly.

He can’t see you, but he can hear the smile in your voice. It makes him smile, too.

“It’s Eddie, babe. I mean, this crowd is totally gonna get to his head.”

“Well, he deserves it. He’s been practicing for ages.”

“Yeah, but he’s gonna be insufferable after this.”

“You always think he’s insufferable.” His heart swells when you giggle.

Steve sighs. “Yeah…”

Your fingers start to toy with his larger ones — a sure sign that you’re coming back down again. They don’t shake as much as they did before. “I think he’s alright.”

“Yeah, because he’s nice to you.”

“Well, maybe if you were nice to him, he’d be nice to you.”

“Me? Nice to Munson?” he scoffs. “That sounds like a terrible idea.”

You pull back from him, smiling softly despite all the reasons you have not to. The remnants of your anxiety still show on your face — glassy eyes, dried tears, panic-bitten mouth. But you beam at him, anyway.

“You’re such a meanie,” you tease, weak but trying to sound strong.

Steve nods with a wide grin.

“The meanest,” he assures as he holds you closer. He looks so tenderly down at you, features soft despite looking like they’ve been carved out of stone. His honey eyes are made darker by the night, but they twinkle brightly as he gazes at you. “And you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your nose scrunches, taking obvious disdain with his compliment.

“I take it back. You’re not a meanie, you’re a sap.”

Again, he nods. “It’s only ‘cause I love you,” he defends, rubbing the tip of his nose along the bridge of yours. He doesn’t know if you’re ready for a kiss just yet.

“That’s gross,” you murmur, peering at him from beneath your lashes. “…I love you, too.”

“I know, you do… It’s ‘cause of the hair, isn’t it?”

Your bottom lip is pulled slowly between your teeth — not to bite it like you usually do when you’re anxious, but to conceal the smile tugging at your mouth as you nod. Your tired eyes flit up to his intentionally messy hair. You rake a hand through the chocolate strands, mussing it further.

“Yeah. Who cares about having a boyfriend that takes care of you when he’s got good hair?”

“Idiots,” he scoffs. “That’s the kinda people who care about that sort of thing.”

Your hand settles on his scruffy jaw. Your thumb brushes the apple of his cheek. “How does it feel to be shacked up with an idiot then, huh?”

Steve grins down at you. “Like heaven.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x shy!reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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mandukkul · 1 year ago

Text

TEENAGE ANGST — n. rk

synopsis: you’re suppose to spend yet another birthday alone wallowing in teenage angst, but someone steps in and breaks the cycle

tags: non!idol!riki x f!reader, comfort, angst (not too much i think), a bit of fluff, maybe coming of age

warnings: riki doesn’t appear until like 1/3 into the oneshot, NOT PROOFREAD!!! cursing, angst (i think), spelling and grammatical errors (i wrote tbis at 2am and finshed it at 3 leave me alone), lots and lots of mis-capitalisations, tense errors probably, teenage angst 😰 , let me know if there are any more

word count: 4.7k

published: 13 July

authors note: first writing piece on here, my birthday is on september 8th but i wrote this maybe back in may

You think as a teenager, the worst thing that could affect you was teenage angst. but for you, it would probably be the least of your problems. Instead wallowing like every other teenager before you, locked deep into their rooms never to see the sun until they were 20, you decide it’s better to fix your problem with a day out.

you’re going to be better than what the stereotype says. I mean who’s better at swimming in your own self pity than yourself of course. Even if your parents had decided that travelling abroad for months on end as a job was better than staying at home in the giant house they bought to live as a family, or leave a teenager alone instead of bringing her along, you won’t let it bother you like it did the previous years.

Although you couldn’t feel bad, your parents were dreaming big, even if you became merely a side thought in that dream. Any teenager would live blissfully with all the materials you had. It was truly a dream, but a dream can only become reality if you make it.

You’re not going to think so negatively and say that people around you would rather see you burn than to see you happy, even though that’s exactly what you’re saying.

You’re a kid with everything you want, but surrounded by other kids who are and have basically the same as you, only with parents in the picture, you’re at bare minimum on the grand scale of things.

To live your life with no one by your side, unless you count the people who dislike you at school, is harder than you think.

But you’ve lived your life like this far too long to complain, it’s been routine to be left alone. only now, the difference is that your birthday was today.

spending what most would say a precious day, in a house so hollow you’d think it was abandoned isn’t exactly ideal. Being alone could only add to your ever growing list of reasons to angst over. not even you, who seemed accustomed to this trend, would want to be reminded of how alone— lonely— you are.

so to attempt to turn a new leaf, you urge yourself to spend it differently, you told yourself. straying from your normally secretive emo self, you decide that traveling to the next suburb ,since you heard about a new promotion of the manga you liked being released in a cafe in said suburb, was a good way to ignore your ever piling problems of self-destructive tendencies.

but oh how the world is against you, even if it is your birthday.

The bus suddenly needs to take a detour to a different area you’re not too familiar with, then declares that the route must be canceled due to complications leaving you stranded in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. When checking your phone to find where you are, you see that you are not only an hour walk away from your house, but your phone is standing on its last legs with a messily 20%.

To test your limits further, the sky starts to cry the moment you’re just far enough from your house that running back would do more harm than good.

you quickly scope your area, finding that there are no parks in the vicinity to offer mercy from the rain, and the closest shelter is either 20 minutes forward to the bus stop or the array of trees planted along the side wall as decorations.

you way your options, and take the tree closest to you as refuge. you’re glad the area you’ve wandered to is littered with them, even better that they're thick enough to offer some kind of protection.

minutes passed and the rain hasn’t let up, going at the same harsh rate it has been going at for the past 10 minutes. your clothes, so obviously drenched, weighs you down causing your minimal moves to become sluggish (or maybe it’s the premonition of sickness approaching).

the trees hang low with despair, mimicking your very attitude. rain licks your face, and you can’t tell whether your tears finally made its greeting or it’s rain getting into your eyes.

you start to ponder whether running to the back home would be a better idea than your lovely tree, the idea of escaping your rain soaked clothes seeming like a dream as of right now, a dream escaping you the longer you wait.

you test your already bad luck, because god so obviously has a vendetta against you, deciding your next best option was to end your little escapade and head back home in the rain.

Barely ten minutes in, with wet sneakers splashing into deep puddles and your clothes glued to you like second skin, the rain starts to roar, angered by your decision apparently.

your vision can’t help but blur due to the heavy rain clouding your sight, and the hair that stubbornly sticks itself into your forehead and subsequently, your eyes. it’s hazy and you can barely make out the road in front of you, you’re glad the path ahead of you is empty and that you’ve arrived in a more familiar area.

I guess not even you can escape the clutches of teenage angst, slowing your strides and accepting your fate.

you think how stupid and cliche you look walking in the rain with a frown. Your feet dragging, now feeling the effects of almost an hour in the rain, and on your birthday of all days. The only thing to complete your look was loud sad emo music.

stopping in your tracks, letting the rain do what it wants, you begin to think back to what you must’ve done to anger god so much.

you shut your eyes for just a moment, to shield yourself from rain trying to attack your eyes, but the rain suddenly stops, or more accurately, something is blocking the rain from you. you begin to hear the pitter patter of rain against an umbrella and just for a moment, you think god has found pity in your wallow and granted you mercy. When opening your eyes, low and behold, a black umbrella meets your face.

oh and there’s Riki, or what he likes to be called, Niki, standing in front of you, holding the umbrella over your head acting as your current saviour.

so much for God's mercy.

If your day wasn’t already so bad, you’d say that seeing niki would be the worst part of your day. Unfortunately for you though, it was the best.

you and niki have never been on the same page, ever since he ‘accidentally’ bumped into you while you were in an empty hall. you had given him many chances to be nice to you, or atleast apologise, but as days passed from the first meeting, all you’ve received was strange stares you know all too well. When confronting him, all he could do is ignore you and or play dumb. This interaction had left a massive rift between the two of you, and being a not so popular kid in highschool compared to the ‘king of dance’ was not a good look.

“why are you trying to be a main character” is the last voice you want to hear from, especially on this joke of a birthday. you crane your neck slightly, meeting face to face with the face you hate (and hate to say is extremely easy on the eyes). “why are you trying to stop my main character moment” you shoot back with equally as much snark, but it comes off weak as you underestimated the sound of rain.

Niki looks down at you with the same glint in his eye you dislike, not because it was a judgmental one, but one of mystery because you can never guess what he’s thinking. “sorry sorry, should i let you get back to that” he removes the umbrella from above you but you make no attempt to stop him.

the rain embraces you once again, as harsh it was moments ago. you state a niki again, his dry figure under the comfort of his darken umbrella, staring at you who seemed to be physically separated from him.

talk about rift.

you’ve never noticed how far you were from niki, in a metaphorical sense. Niki had everything you had, and more. He had people to talk to, hang out with, care about and care for. He too, probably went through his fair share of teenage angst, but you think to yourself that this is the first (and only) win.

he sees this and halts his movement, examining your figure deeply. you seem tired. along with the wet suit you’re wearing, and unruly hair dripping at its tips, you look far different to how you present yourself at school. nonchalant and cool, an enigmatic girl who seems to always be out of everyone’s business but as of now, you look (in the nicest way possible) like a train wreck.

“Are you taking joy out of watching me wallow?” you scoff, staring at him with a distasteful eye, “i’m not a sadist” he jokes but he’s the only one who’s smiling.

he coughs to clear his throat, or maybe the awkward atmosphere, you’re too tired to care. you watch as he moves the umbrella back under you, “why are you standing in the rain anyways?” he questions.

“m trying to get home” you whisper loud enough to beat the rain, looking at Niki who’s features seem to fuzz up the more you blink.

“don’t you live 3 streets away?” he adds, you only nodding in response.

your movements are suddenly too sluggish to call lazy, the effects of an hour in the rain finally hitting you.

“aren’t your parents worried?”

probably

“my parents are overseas,” you mumble as he nods knowingly, having his fair shares of travelling parents, although he has his sisters to accompany him, “and i don’t feel like spending my day alone”

birthday

you think how this is the first real conversation you’ve had with niki, ever since your first encounter. Normally you’d stray away from him, so much as look in your direction, you’re off to avoid further conflict and instead plan a faux argument comeback for if the day ever arrives.

you rub your eye to rid the haze that had gotten worse, along with the bodily ache and pounding head.

niki notices, he always notices you. seeing you off in your own world from a distance.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone laced with concern, or at least that's what you think. He moves his hand to wipe some hair out of your face, attempting to help with your irritable eyes.

Despite the cold weather, you’re hot to the touch.

“oh shit, you’re burning up” he goes into mother mode as he touches your forehead, seeing as that’s what his sister and mother do when he has his own fever. you mumble an incoherent response, you’re not sure what you said either.

“I should get home then” you mumble, stepping away from safety and into the rain. He goes to stop you, but the moment you move you’re in shambles, collapsing into his arms like some damsel in distress.

oh fuck

…

sometimes you think to yourself, what did you do to end up here? and when i mean here, i don’t mean the literal sense, i mean the place you are in life, because for you, all you seem to do is piss of whoever’s writing your story, because why else would you be living such a shitty (but not enough to outwardly complain) life.

The second you wake up in bed was your first red flag. the sheets a bluish grey, far different from your own floral white ones. The bed is softer, and the quilt more warm, but that might just be from the sheer exhaustion you exhibited some time ago.

The next flag was the scary tall silhouette you see entering the room, holding what looks like a black plastic bag filled with various things.

riki looks much more intimidating when all you can make out is his outline.

the moment he turns around from shutting the door, he sees your eyes staring at him and the previous blank expression he wore changes into a face of concern.

“oh you’re awake” he scrambles words together as he stalks up to for bedside, placing the plastic bag beside him as he examines your condition like some kind of doctor.

“clearly” you croak, and you find out that your voice is extremely hoarse (and sore).

“try not to speak, i think you have a fever from standing under the rain” he deduces but you can’t help but scoff, “gee, who would’ve guessed”.

the sick you are even snarky than normal you.

Niki chuckles at your comment as he shuffles around the plastic bag for a bottle of water and what looks like painkillers.

you shift your head to watch him as he assorts the medicine and water onto the bedside table, pulling out a small mandarin to complete the collection.

“What's with the orange?” you whisper, trying to not use your voice too much, “vitamin c” he answers simply and you can’t help but laugh at him.

you manoeuvre into a sitting position to take what he’s giving you, ignoring the pain striking your head as you do so.

as you pop pills and chug water, you continue to scan the room. It's pretty boring, with a table with a few pieces of stationary, and a shelf with some personal touches.

Niki sees you’re so obviously inspecting the room, and coughs up an answer.

“oh umm- sorry. i didn’t know where you lived and you had passed out and i panicked and brought you to my house” he explains. that explains the strange surroundings. you’re in his room.

you think about how different his room is to what you originally assumed. no trophies, or obnoxious posters. a very standard and boring room for someone so rich.

his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, “i’ll leave you to rest” he starts to get up and you don’t know what has gotten over you, but the moment you see him shift away, you grasp his wrist urging his attention back on you.

he stares at you intently, as if he’d listen to the hours of silence you’d make if you chose to.

under his scrutinising gaze, you can’t help but avert your gaze. “I don't want to spend my birthday alone” you unconsciously mumble and you feel pathetic as you hear the words leave your mouth.

a raging silence fills the room, and your own anxiety gets the best of you as you loosen your grip around his wrist.

the moment he longer feels your fingers against him, he reaches for you back which surely catches your attention.

you never had a real interaction with the boy, especially due to the circumstances you (or him) were put through but your distaste for him wasn't baseless, even if your heart felt different.

Speaking about heart, it was pounding so loudly against your chest, you could’ve sworn Niki would dance to it.

“It's your birthday?” he’s grip on your hand is gentle, almost delicate as if you’d crack under the pressure of his touch. you nod softly, not facing him but you can tell what he’s thinking.

you probably seem more like a loser than you already are, you feel like that at least.

Riki nods his head, gently as to let your eyes follow enough not to be bothered by such movements. He repositions himself beside his own bed, hand still attached to yours.

you try everything in your power to ignore his riveting gaze, but the awkwardness is much louder than the silence itself.

you ponder to yourself, if this birthday was one of your best ones or the worse. you silently compare back to when you were six, and everyone and their friends were there. your parents seemed less concerned with otherworldly matters and you focused on nothing but the people around you.

That was the last time you felt noticed.

teenage angst must’ve hit you really early, huh?

then, back to just 14, where it was yet another year alone, with no one at school knowing who you are (yet because the moment you meet riki everything had a turn for the one worse), your parents at god knows where, living their best business lives, and this is your first time spending your birthday alone (first of a few).

you think how empty your house was, how dark and voided it felt, feeding into your ever growing reasons to angst.

and now you think of now, despite being ill with a rising fever, you don’t feel as bad as you did back then. you can’t tell if it’s just your delirious mind putting it’s fair share of delusional thoughts into you, or it’s just because you haven’t had company in so long. but the hand wrapped around yours, and the feeling of someone (even if it’s the ever so terrible niki) next you that made you smile.

“What are you smiling about? Are you going through shock?” niki’s voice is a mixture of playfulness and concern, because even if the chances of you suddenly falling into a seizure is low, it isn’t zero.

your eyes trail to him, but not to his eyes, you wouldn’t dare look straight at him.

“I thought it was going to be another bad birthday” you shrug, and you can’t for the life of you, wipe off your smile, not now because Riki finds it in himself to squeeze your hand.

you expect another remark, because that’s all your conversations seem to be (from the single one you’ve just had earlier) but nothing of the sort came, instead, from the corner of your eyes, you see him smile.

the nicest type of smile, with his boxy edges, and eyes squeezing softly.

if you weren’t looking at him before, you are now.

“I'm glad” that’s all he says, and your heart clenches at something that isn’t depression and anxiety.

The overwhelming feeling of awkwardness has long dissipated and has been replaced with something else.

something new.

you stare intently into his eyes, moreso, he does and you are compelled to look back. He's searching for something, in the darkness of the room it seems like.

you can barely make out his features, soft eyes, and sharp jaw. his hair perfectly framing his face, to much of your distaste, and is slightly damp probably from just getting back from wherever he went.

you wonder what’s going inside that head of his, while staring so intently at you, dissecting every little part of you. does he notice the droop of your eyes, how tired you look, how pale your skin has gotten from days locked in your room, how your cheeks never flushed with life yet was always plush to the touch (probably from all the instant food you’ve consumed)

does he notice the teenage angst you wallow in, him probably going through the same trivial problems as you.

“Sorry you have to spend your weekend with me” you whisper, thinking about all the other things the “king of dance” could be doing instead of nurturing you back to health.

He’d probably be out with heeseung or jake at the local gaming cafe, laughing and playing. He was probably on his way there if not for running into you.

you don’t break eye contact so you see how his eyes double in size, quick to shake his head, your own aching from following his movements. “hey don’t say that” he scolds you, taking his other hand to caress yours.

How intimate does he get?

your skin burns from his touch, and not because your fever is bordering on 39° C. Your eyes tear away, too much of your brains disliking because, even if you dislike him, he’s very nice to look at.

“no one deserves to spend their birthday alone” and he may be right, but your own angsty self could beg to differ.

because with the cards dealt to you, and the way you’ve treated the world (because how it treated you) there’s no doubt there’s a love hate (mostly hate) relationship going on between you and life.

“Even more, now that you’re sick” he adds on, rubbing circles to the back of your hand and you feel comfort for the first time in a while.

“i guess even someone who hates me can be nice, huh?” you didn't mean to say that out loud, but your quiet voice is too intertwined with your head voice, mixed with the fact that you’re terribly sick, couldn’t tell the difference.

he stares at you quizzingly, as if you’ve said something so utterly absurd it’s left him speechless.

“i don’t hate you”

those words catch you off guard. because the words “don't” and “hate” have never been uttered on the same line with “you” following after it.

you stay silent. it’s your birthday so of course he wouldn’t uprightly say it to your face.

“Do you hate me?”

he asks and you take a moment to ponder, about the strange stairs he’s given you, and the amount of times he’s ignored you piled with how everyone at school seems to stray away from you.

you only hate him because he hates you

“i only hated you because you hate me”

niki is left truly speechless (in a metaphorical sense), and his jaw is literally cracked wide.

“what?!? I don't hate you! god! i could never hate you”

like a cringey teenage cliche, you bite your lip holding back an unwanted grin.

“don’t say the lord's name in vain” you mutter to make light of the situation.

not having friends didn't mean you weren’t socially inept.

Your dry chuckle is the only sound left in the room, other than the pattering of rain. riki can’t help but frown at the news he just heard.

“i’ve never hated you, not for a second” he looks at you as if he’s trying to convince you, telling you that all your internalised monologues were for nothing, “i just thought… since you were so stand-off-ish, that you just didn't like me” you shrug, averting from his gaze.

words pour out of you like vomit and you can no longer keep up your enigmatic cool girl facade, not now that you’re sick.

“not many people like me, so i assume you hate me jusy as much, and well, if you hated me, i figured i should hate you back”

and you did, well you tried to at least. but in moments like these; where niki holds your hand as if you’re the only thing keeping him alive, where his eyes never leave your lips because he’s so set on remembering every little detail you say, afraid your words will be lost to tone. you can’t help but not hate him at all, noy one bit.

“how could i hate you when you’re just so perfect” he whispers, almost like a confession.

actually he did confess. to you. right now.

you owlishly blink, and suddenly think that your beating heart is more serious than your fever.

you try to snatch your hand away from him, in embarrassment of him feeling how hot you feel, with the tips of your ears flaming red.

with your averted gaze, it’s not like you can see that his neck has a creeping speck of hot red as well as his cheeks, ears, and everything on him.

He's so glad it’s dark right now.

“you can’t just say that, riki” it’s the first time you’ve said his name.

his name out of your mouth, your tongue, your lips.

He wants to hear it again.

“Why not?” he eggs, leaning closer despite the strange territory they’ve suddenly entered.

“Some people might get the wrong idea” and by some, you mean yourself because even with the minimal things you know about the boy next to you, your heart is fluttering like crazy it makes you want to vomit.

“But I'm not lying, you’re so perfect” Riki reiterates, “you’re so perfect, i’m afraid to even talk to you, or look at you, even be around you” he rambled at the amount of failed attempts to talk to you, caused by his shyness.

so… everytime you tried to talk to him, walked near him, caught him staring, it was all because of some silly crush?

and now you feel stupid, ontop of your crippling angst, you’ve failed at teenage romance.

letting out a frustrating sigh, so heavy you might even blow the poor boy away, you drop down ontop your back and whine.

he’s shocked for a moment, watching you wail with your hands covering your face.

he finds you so cute, his stomach might because an olympic gymnast at this point.

riki crawls closer to you, kneeling onto his knees as he gently pries your hand away from your face. “I feel so stupid” you can’t help but utter, eyes shut to avoid his eyes.

riki grins, leaning closer (not that you could see), “the smartest girl at school? Feeling stupid? That's a first” he jokes and you unintentionally snort out a laugh, “i’m not the smartest” you instantly shoot back, slowly opening your eyes.

“oh but you are, you’re smart, and beautiful, and mysterious and witty and-“ you rip your hand from his grip to cover his mouth, any more and your ego will start to inflate and be as big as Sunghoon’s. “aish, stop that

'' You laugh, and you can hear him giggling along.

“But why? can’t i tell the girl i like how amazingly perfect she is?”

the girl he likes…

the.

girl

likes

IS YOU?

“you like me…” you gape, maybe you are socially inept, or at least, romantically.

riki laughs, and a hearty one at that. the type of laugh that comes straight from the stomach. “how could anyone not?” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

like the teenage girl you are, you can’t help but feel bubbly and giddy, like the princess in some lame disney movie being swept off her feet by a guy who’s probably way too old for her (funny seeing that riki’s younger than you).

Then guilt hits you. as much as you want to revel in this blissful joy, you know nothing about riki, and you spent so long hating on him in your head to suddenly switch up.

“I know nothing about you though…” you break the news to him, “i mean, we technically just had our first real conversation”.

riki can’t help but smile, even if he’s just been indirectly rejected, your gentleness in letting him down makes him swoon even more.

“we can get to know each other then” he declares, smiling down at you.

“But are you willing to wait?” your eyes fill with anticipation, hoping for the best (it is your birthday after all), and wonder for the first time in forever, smiling from ear to ear.

“for you, i’d wait a thousand years”

if what he said before wasn't swoon worthy, this definitely was.

you feel like one of his silly fangirls that wait outside of class, giggling at his stupid smile but this time, you know you’re the cause of it.

“Are you going to start singing Christina Aguilera now?” you joke, giggling quietly to yourself. “I mean you should, since it’s my birthday after all” oh what a good birthday it was.

“anything for my birthday girl” Seeing your smile stretch for the first time, he hopes he’d be seeing that everyday in the near future.

Riki looks at you, for what feels like the millionth time. He really looks at you, like he did at school, like he did on the street in the rain, and like he does now.

and he thinks to himself:

yeah, I can definitely wait.

authors note pt.2: as you can see i write a lot for riki (my bias) mostly because i have so many wips that i s decided to release 🤭 might accept request who knows. also if you have any tips on how to write or do a layout please pm!!!!

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