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queen-of-reptiles · 9 months ago

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𝙼𝚈 𝙶𝙸𝚁𝙻

description: y/n is out of club play with an injury, potentially a big one, luckily england felt they could breathe again once they knew their captain hadn't suffered the three letters - but barcelona did not feel so lucky with an el classico around the corner.

smut

minors dni

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lucy bronze x female reader

disclaimer: this is all fiction do not take any of this seriously !

warnings: swearing, oral, light choking, slightly soft dom lucy, dom lucy, cunnilingus, strap-on fucking, dirty talk, slight cum play (like the smallest fucking bit) fluff, cuteness

smut

minors DNI

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y/n hummed along to the music which played softly from the radio, Narla was swirling through her legs, the dog licking her naked ankles every few minutes to demand a quick pat, which y/n happily did.

She was cooking breakfast, bacon, fried eggs, mushrooms and toast, Lucy's juice was already blended and waiting for when the woman woke up, though y/n didn't mind letting her sleep in.

With it being matchday -1, the team always had a late practice and y/n knew Lucy needed a lay in, her lover having to do a lot of work without her in midfield to bounce off.

Just as y/n plated the food up, two arms wrapped themselves around her waist, the taller girl burying her head into her lover's neck and inhaling the sweet scent.

"Morning baby." y/n hummed softly enjoying the warmth Lucy provided as she snaked a hand into the older woman's hair and scratched at the scalp.

"Always is with you." Lucy murmured, y/n laughing at that as she switched the hob off and turned to face the woman who was grinning.

"You Miss Bronze, are such a sap!" y/n giggled. Lucy chuckled, unable to help herself as she grinned lazily at her lover.

"It's your fault." She denies, before leaning in and placing her lips firmly on y/n's her hands gripping into the curve of her waist as y/n relaxed into the kiss.

A bark broke the two, Narla jumping onto her hind legs to press her paws against Lucy, pushing her away from y/n for a moment before the dog curled around y/n's ankles.

"You little shit!" Lucy grinned at Narla as y/n crouched down and cooed at her, running her hand over the dog. "She's mine Narla." Lucy adds as y/n stands back up.

y/n rolls her eyes at that, grabbing the plates and walking them over to the table while Lucy put Narla's food down, her dog licking her ankles in thanks.

"Yeah know you love me." Lucy scoffs, y/n chuckling as her lover walked over, the woman pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips. "How's the knee?" Lucy asks, sitting down next to her lover and running a cautious hand over the injury.

"Okay, only another few weeks and I am back to training." y/n promised, the injury was luckily not the three dreaded letters, but when she went down, both women thought it could be.

Lucy hummed, nodding her head as she began to push food into her mouth, her eyes zoning out as she replayed the injury and tackle in her head, the instant being something she blamed herself for.

Lucy had wondered out of position, having chased a loose ball and when she missed it, y/n covered her position and intercepted a key pass from their opponents.

However, as she pushed the pass out, a player had come flying in, the girl's studs pushing her knee back and dislocating it as y/n went flying back and knocked herself unconscious from slamming her head on the grass.

Lucy hadn't been able to remember a time where her heart hurt as much as it did then, watching her lover crumple to the ground, she was such a shaking mess she was even subbed off, being told to go be with her lover.

Lucy and y/n's relationship wasn't unknown, just private, only anniversary photos and the occasional snapshot of their love had been caught, but in that moment the cameras caught the worry of being in a five year relationship.

Lucy had been there when she woke up, holding her hand and running her fingertips over the skin, but she couldn't look y/n in the eye, and y/n could tell why almost instantly.

Lucy chased after the stray ball, y/n noticing she had left a gap and quickly filling it as she watched with a wince as the Levante player hammered it toward the player y/n had dropped back to mark.

Lucy turned, cursing herself for her mistake but sighing in relief when y/n brought the ball to her feet and passed it out to Ingrid.

But Lucy's relief turned to horror in a moment as she watched the Levante player tackle y/n late, the studs embedding into her knee and pushing it the wrong way.

With the strength of the player's tackle y/n was pushed harshly back, falling and smacking her head against the ground going motionless.

Lucy's stomach lurched as she felt truly sick, not even waiting for the whistle which echoed as she raced, grabbing her girlfriend's hand, holding it as the medics and team swarmed.

Lucy had paled, not even hearing Alexia asking her to move and Keira's response to the captain saying it was no use to try and move the woman.

Alexia made a sign at Jonatan switching for two instead of one. The man sighed but nodded his head, sending another player to warm up as he watched the stretcher be run on.

"Please baby, wake up." Lucy said softly, y/n groaning as the medics looked over to Lucy, understanding the woman was not moving.

The cameras followed every step of Lucy who followed the stretcher, tears being wiped away as she disappeared in the tunnel, heartbreak the only word near enough to describe her look.

"Don't do that." y/n warned her girlfriend as she took their empty plates.

"What?" Lucy asks, following her like a lost puppy as she watches y/n put the plates in the dishwasher.

"Blame yourself for my injury. It wasn't your fault Lucia." y/n promises, sliding onto the counter so she can bring Lucy in-between her legs.

"But if I..." Lucy began but y/n shut her up by pecking her lips. "But..." Lucy tried again, y/n cutting her off with a longer kiss.

"But nothing. It was a bad tackle, that was all." y/n promised Lucy who sighed.

"You just crumbled, your body just sagged, god it was horrid." Lucy denies, wrapping her arms around y/n's waist to pull her closer, y/n's legs automatically curling around Lucy's torso.

"But I'm fine now, I'm on the mend and I am all energised." y/n promises, running her hand through Lucy's hair, pulling it down and around her shoulders.

Lucy sighed her forehead connecting with y/n's as she pressed herself into y/n, inhaling the sweet smell she gave off. Lucy's hands stayed tight around her waist, her finger tips dancing across y/n's back.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you in my shirt?" Lucy asks, an innocent hum coming from her voice.

"You might have mentioned it." y/n nods, a small smile on her face as she lifts her hand, cupping Lucy's face and rubbing her thumb along her cheekbone.

"I love you in my shirt." Lucy tells her, tilting her head so their noses brush. "I love my last name on your back." She continues.

"You should hurry up and make it permanent then." y/n whispers cheekily, her lips brushing over Lucy's as she wonders whose resolve will break first.

"Patience baby. Patience." Lucy hums, before swiping forward and taking y/n's plump bottom lip in between her teeth, tugging as she bites down on the skin, needing the groaning reaction she receives.

Lucy pulls her lover closer, the two finally meeting in a heated kiss which both seemed determined to dominate, however, Lucy's hand raised, enclosing around her lover's neck and y/n instantly let her have all the control.

Lucy's tongue wrapped around her own, her hand squeezing y/n's throat just slightly before Lucy's lips pressed along her jaw and she bit at y/n's earlobe.

"Either I eat you out here, or I fuck you in the bedroom." Lucy all but groans out into y/n's ear, Lucy pulling her away from the counter slightly so y/n can rest on her bucking hips, Lucy sighing at the grinding friction she was creating.

"Bedroom." y/n gasps out and Lucy grins and moves back toward the bedroom, she places her lover down on the bed and moves upward.

The two meet in a deep kiss, Lucy quickly taking control when her hands bury themselves into y/n's hair, tugging the woman's head back to expose her neck.

Lucy kisses downward, nipping at the skin where y/n's collarbone and shoulder meet, the woman gasping out as Lucy fixes her top back onto her frame once happy with her marks.

"Knee okay baby?" Lucy asks as she fixes a pillow underneath y/n's bad knee.

"Fine. Don't worry about it." y/n whines out needily and Lucy can't help the dark chuckle which slips from her throat.

Ever since the injury, Lucy had tried to be less rough in bed though it did nothing to limit her dominance, she simply found other ways to keep y/n in line.

"So needy for me, aren't you baby?" Lucy asks her. "So needy to have me use you." She continues, her voice dropping to mock her lover.

"Please." y/n gasped, having no issue with begging for Lucy.

"Okay. Okay." Lucy nods, shuffling down so she was level with y/n's thighs, resting on her elbows.

y/n watched with baited breath as Lucy slowly kissed down her thighs, nipping at the skin when she felt like it, y/n gasping at every scrape of her teeth.

Lucy grinned as y/n's breath picked up, her hand trying to reach down to tangle in Lucy's hair, but y/n's hand is caught by Lucy's the woman pinning it to the mattress.

"No touching." Lucy whispered, blowing air onto the soaked fabric which covered y/n's aching pussy.

Ever so lightly, Lucy pulled the wet fabric down y/n's legs and threw them behind her, deciding they were a problem for later as she licked a stripe up.

y/n let out a gasp of relief as Lucy began to lick faster, as if tasting her was more in her brain then pleasuring her. Finally, Lucy's tongue circled her clit and y/n let out a moan.

"Luce." y/n whispered as Lucy repeated the action. The woman sat up briefly, tying her hair back as she stared at her lover.

The woman had a hand in her own hair, eyes filled with pleading as she tried to moved her hips, Lucy's eyes were dark, almost predatorial as she looked down at her shirt on her lover.

"I can't wait til I can fuck you from behind again. See our name on your back." Lucy says lowly, her voice gruff with arousal.

At the use of 'our' when talking about her name y/n moaned, unashamed of how aroused the word made her. Lucy grinned, moving down and wrapping her arms around y/n's hips, pulling her closer.

y/n groaned as Lucy licked again, her tongue flat as she swallowed the juices which smeared her lips as she licked once more.

"Could die between these legs." Lucy groaned before she pushed forward and darted her tongue into y/n's hole, the woman groaning and Lucy pushed her head closer, pressure pushing down on y/n's clit.

"Lucy." y/n moaned, having to bring her hands onto her head so she didn't touch her, because Lucy would stop if y/n disobeyed the rules.

Lucy's hand moved as her tongue continued pushing between y/n's walls, her thumb coming up to rub quick and harsh circles against y/n's clit.

y/n moaned out, her back arching as Lucy's actions became quicker and rougher, the woman groaning out when the snap in her stomach came quicker than expected, her orgasm pushing through her.

Lucy's hand stopped but her tongue didn't returning to it's lapping motion while she cleared the orgasm from y/n's pussy, groaning at her taste and going back once more to continue her motions.

Only when y/n was gasping weakly, begging for a moment from her over-stimulation did Lucy pull away, a smug grin on her face when she saw the state of her lover.

y/n's head was covered in a light sheen of sweat, her hair messed completely at the orgasm, her plump lips parted as she panted out as Lucy stepped away, only to step back over her moments later.

"One more for me, my good good girl." Lucy hummed, she moved down the strap between her legs pushing against y/n's sensitive clit which made her jolt.

Lucy moved forward, lips connect with y/n's as she pushed in, gasping as the pull on her own clit hit her. Her tongue swept through y/n's mouth, gagging her moan which tried to escape as Lucy eased into her thrusts.

"That's it, taking me so well." Lucy groans, her leg hooking over y/n's good one and putting the rest of her pressure on her knee and forearms which were either side of y/n's head.

Lucy's thrusts picked up, the strap hitting a perfect spot on them both as she continued to push into y/n's insides. Lucy moved her arm, pulling y/n's good leg around her waist.

Her thrusts sped up, y/n letting out constant moans which made Lucy bury her head into y/n's neck so she could groan as she chased her own high.

"Feels so good." y/n whined, hands clawing down Lucy's back, not thinking about the mess it would leave as her nails dug into the skin.

"Who makes you feel like this?" Lucy gasped out, her teeth pulling at y/n's earlobe.

"You do Luce." y/n moaned out, the slapping sounds which echoed from the thrusts becoming louder as Lucy somehow sped up.

"What are you?" Lucy asks.

"Yours. Only yours." y/n moans, knowing exactly what Lucy wanted to hear.

Lucy's breath halted for a moment, a sign she was close and y/n moved her hips up slightly to meet Lucy's which caused the woman to moan into y/n's ear.

"Can I?" y/n whined, knowing her asking for permission would push her lover over the edge.

"Cum." Lucy demanded, groaning as she did so, leaning down to bite into y/n's shoulder as the woman's back arched and she let out a breath as she orgasmed.

Lucy slowed her thrusts, not stopping for another minute as she rode out her high, ignoring the over-stimulated whines coming from her girlfriend.

Slowly Lucy pulled out, fingers dipping into her own pussy to scoop up her orgasm and pushing it into y/n's oversensitive hole.

y/n groaned and Lucy couldn't help but smirk as she watched y/n catch her breath again. Lucy unclipped the strap from her hips, moving to rest next to y/n as she let out a breath of content, throwing the wet strap on the bed.

"We're going to have the wash the sheets." y/n sighed out as Lucy pressed a loving and soft kiss against her lips.

"In a minute, just lay with me." Lucy said softly and y/n smiled, moving her head onto Lucy's hot shoulder.

"Always." y/n sighed out and Lucy moved down to bring y/n closer.

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y/n just posted on her story

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y/n and Mapi sat side by side, the two both out due to injuries as they look out on the Barcelona game currently happening. It was twenty minutes in and they were two goals up, curtesy of Aitana and Caroline.

The two friends were sat happily chatting, Aleixa who was next to y/n chiming in every so often as they talked. y/n was enjoying the warmth from the Barcelona evening.

Her beige cargo trousers kept her warmth while her arms were out due to the 'Bronze' Barcelona shirt she wore on her body, many people taking photos when they saw the woman able to WAG her lover.

As the clock ticked over, y/n watched as Lucy raced down the wing, Real hardly standing a chance against her as she defended with skill.

Lucy sent the ball through to Keira, switching through and receiving the ball back which she sent Caroline's way, the player getting her head on it as the keeper just pushed it wide for a corner.

Mapi and y/n groaned, both sitting back down with a sigh as Alexia chuckled at their child-like behaviour, the two pouting for the friend as Salma raised her hand to take the corner.

y/n watches as Salma sends the ball in, Lucy at the back post un-marked as she jumped and the ball flew in. y/n screamed in excitement as she clapped for her lover, the woman laughing as the team swarmed her.

Lucy pulled away from her team, looking for her lover as she raised her hands in a love heart shape, one which y/n did back causing the crowd to go crazy.

El Classico's were always something else, but for Barcelona to be three goals up before half time and missing their captain, a key defender and a key midfielder was a special game.

And suddenly for the fans things were so much better, because they had seen a y/n and Lucy interaction, which in game was a rare thing to truly see.

The game restarted, Lucy quickly blocking run from Del Castillo, she passed it to Ingrid, Del Castillo turning to run at the player, but Ingrid sent a ball through her legs and back to Lucy, who then did the same back to Ingrid.

"I would kill myself." y/n says as she and Mapi begin to giggle at their partners playing with her.

"She has been mothered." Mapi agrees which makes Alexia snort.

"By our girls as well." y/n says with a smile and Mapi pretends to wipe a tear as Lucy sends a ball into the box, Ona smashing it into the goal.

"VAMOS ONA!" Mapi shouts, y/n cheering for their young friend for scoring in her first classico.

y/n clapped excitedly, grinning at the sight of her girlfriend running back, the woman running a hand over her hair as she grins at Ona, the two high fiving.

"She's so hot." y/n sighs without thinking and Mapi snorts teasing her with mocking kisses.

y/n laughs shoving Mapi away as the whistle blows, y/n grinning as she and Mapi move down the stadium, the former trying to move as quick as possible.

Mapi and y/n part the latter quickly rushing into the Barcelona corridor, grinning at the sigh of her girlfriend leaning against the locker room wall waiting for her.

"You just had to score a goal when I wasn't on the pitch." y/n says, a jokingly hard looking in her eyes as Lucy chuckles, pulling her closer.

"Hmm, had to give my WAG a good game to watch." Lucy says quietly, leaning down to press a soft kiss against y/n's lips.

y/n chuckles against the kiss, pulling away to lift the hem of Lucy's shirt, the woman tensing slightly so the line in her abs was carved out in her toned stomach more.

"That's all the show I need." y/n teased, her hand running over them before dropping Lucy's shirt. "Keep that down though, don't want any more clips of you for people to thirst over." y/n adds.

Lucy smiles, a sense of pride always rushing through her when y/n got jealous, she pulled the woman in close to her chest, hands wrapping around her waist to keep her close.

"They're yours baby, those people thirst over something that's yours." Lucy promises and y/n chuckles leaning up to press a longer kiss against Lucy's lips, the woman running her tongue over y/n's mouth in the hopes of deepening the kiss.

"No." y/n says as she pulls away, Lucy huffing as her hands move down and squeeze at y/n's ass. "Lucy, go get ready for the second half." y/n laughs.

"But I want to stay here and kiss you." Lucy huffs like a child.

"After." y/n chuckles, leaning up to kiss her girlfriend again before turning, as she does Lucy's hand darts out slapping her butt with a wicked sound. "Lucia!" y/n calls but she is just answered with a laugh as Lucy walks into the locker room.

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y/n posted on her story

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It was the 87th minutes, Barcelona now 6-0 up, Lucy sneaking another assist and a clearance off the line which made the crowd scream her name for the next few minutes.

Vicky was on the edge of the box, sending the ball in as y/n watched Lucy run in, jumping and heading the ball into the bottom right corner as she slid on the ground slightly as she landed.

y/n covered her mouth as she shouted, trying not to let her emotions get the better of her as the fans erupted around her, Lucy's name being screamed amongst the crowd.

The game ended soon after, the songs echoing the stadium as Mapi and y/n moved to the side-lines, waiting for their team to finish signing auto-graphs.

Lucy finished quickly and raced toward y/n, the woman giggling as Lucy swept her up and spun her, the sudden shout of excited fan screams echoing.

"Scored 2 just for you." Lucy told her, putting y/n down and couching. "Up you get." Lucy says.

"Lucy your knee." y/n tries but the huff from her makes y/n aware she will not give up.

y/n sighed and climbed onto Lucy's back, the woman standing back up and gripping the underneath of y/n's thighs as she fixed her onto her back.

"Riding Lucy Bronze, a familiar happening." y/n muttered and Lucy snorted.

"God I can't wait until your knee is better." Lucy states as she walks them over to the team talk.

y/n listened to her manager's congratulations, head resting against Lucy's, pressing occasional kisses to Lucy's hair as the group congratulated her as no doubt player of the match.

The group eventually trudged off, waving one last time to the remaining fans, Lucy eventually let y/n clamber off her back once they arrived at the locker room, all the girls already inside and celebrating.

y/n was sure there would be a small party tonight, and she smiled at Lucy as she planned for her own celebrations beforehand.

"Shower quick." y/n tells her pecking her lips and Lucy raised a brow.

"Why?" She asks.

"Wanna celebrate my girl before we go out." y/n whispers against her lips and Lucy was through the locker room faster than she had been all game.

y/n heard the cheers of the team and smiled, assuming they were cheering for Lucy's work during the game, however as Keira walked out five minutes later with a smirk, y/n assumed she had been wrong.

"Maybe cut those nails." Keira tells her with a smirk, just as Mapi came out and made a claw with her hand, making a hiss as Lucy - now showered exited behind her.

"Someone gets scratchy in bed." Mapi winked at y/n.

"And they're about to get worse. See you guys in three hours." Lucy says, before picking up y/n and rushing off making her laugh.

"Gross." Mapi says wrinkling her nose.

"Try rooming next to them on England camp." Keira says, causing Aitana to snort and fall into Keira laughing as the English woman shivers.

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y/n posted on her story

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END

a little late after Valentines but I tried my best 😔😔

let me know what you think! xx

- Queenie xx

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kingorqueenofnarnia · 4 months ago

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TCON HEADCANON

Peter used to be the tallest of the four, until Susan turned fourteen and shot up to six feet— one inch taller than him. It earned him weeks of teasing from his three little shits until he hit sixteen and and shot up half a foot, reaching an astounding six feet four inches. This was in the middle of a campaign against the Raiders of Korentha, and even he did not realise he had grown until he returned home from war and suddenly he had to tilt his head down to look at Susan. Susan sulked for days, and was only appeased when Peter gifted her a beautiful pair of high heels. Peter likes being tall, even though he's not as tall as a Centaur— Susan likes his bear hugs, and he gets to make fun of the younger ones for being tiny squirts. Lucy regularly climbs him like a jungle gym until she hits her own growth spurt.

Susan cut an imposing figure at 15, with wide shoulders and a slender torso, standing at an impressive 6 feet even without her famous heels. She hated it at first— girls from England were short, much shorter than her, and so were many of the men. She always felt a little self conscious in a crowd because of how she towered over the average human. In Narnia, however, it was different. Druids and Naiads and Dryads regularly reached six feet, and centaurs were rarely shorter than seven. Fauns were short, but Bears stood on their hind legs and towered over her only to hand out the warmest hugs Susan had ever experienced apart from Peter's. Secretly though, no matter how much she teased Peter about being shorter than her, she was glad when he grew taller than her. (His hugs aren't as comforting if you're taller than him, alright?)

Halfway through Edmund's fifteenth year of existence, he was both shocked and pleased to find out he did not need to tilt his head back to look at Peter anymore. Peter was 18 and a giant, bear-like warrior king, his furs and long braids and armour making him look even larger, and Edmund was a lanky teenager with remnants of baby fat still on his cheeks and wiry muscle wrapped around thin bones— both of them were the same height, but Edmund looked boyish where Peter looked manly. It took him till he was in his early twenties to match Peter's bulk, but he stayed as tall as Peter for the rest of his life, not an inch here or there. (and Peter thanks the Fates for that. He doesnt know if he could withstand the amount of heckling that would come with being shorter than his brother.)

Lucy was the shortest of them her entire life. Until she was 14, she was about 5ft 4 inches, at which point she started growing like a weed and stopped at the very admirable height of five feet ten inches— just two inches short of Susan's height. It infuriated her to no end; being shorter than everyone was annoying, and even more so when you weren't actually short at all, just shorter than your siblings. At 5'10, she towered over many Narnian species as well as her classmates when she returned to England and went through puberty a second time, but she loved it. She loved being taller, loved that she was only shorter than her siblings— they may annoy her by teasing her about their heights, but being smaller meant the hugs were better, and really, why would she give up on a chance to climb Peter like a monkey so she could sit on his shoulders? No, Su, she doesn't care that it looks uncouth.

#narnia #the chronicles of narnia #amrut writes about narnia #peter pevensie #pevensie siblings #pevensies #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #narnia headcanons

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theta-walti · 7 months ago

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All Of Me

Summary: Lucy and the reader met at a meta event and hit it off immediately exchanging numbers. The reader is performing in Barcelona, so she invites Lucy and some of her teammates at the concert. One of her teammates is a die-hard fan and would love to meet her, so Lucy arranges it. At the end of the concert, Lucy realises she's in love and confesses.

Warnings: fluff, just fluff

A/N: This is dedicated to Tuck, Shadow, and the anon who requested this, l hope you enjoy and thank you for patiently waiting 🫶

Word count: 4.4k

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"Do l have to wear this?"

you asked as you look yourself at the mirror, not completely confident of what you are wearing, you get that it is not any big event like the Met Gala, but it is an meta hosted event that you have been invited to, and your best friend has encouraged you to go as soon as you told her, so under her influence you have decided to do it.

First you went shopping for a dress, deciding that you don't need a makeup artist or any kind of stylist, deciding that you can get ready on your own, big mistake, you have absolutely no idea how to do fancy makeup, the best you can do is basic everyday makeup and that's enough for you, even on your shows and tours you didn't go very fancy unless you hired someone to do it for you.

"Come on! You came from London all the way to Barcelona to do this! And don't stress about it! You look great! Trust me, people would love this look!"

And you did, the moment you told your best friend that you had been invited, she immediately booked you a flight. She was very excited for you, and that alone also made you very excited.

Your best friend stopped what she was doing and walked towards you, then stopped when she was behind you, looking into the reflection. Her hands were on your shoulder and her head next to your own, she smiled.

"People are going to love you, don't you worry, everything is going to be just fine, relax and go enjoy okay?"

You nodded as you understood her words and relaxed a bit, just on cue your driver arrived and your phone ping in a notification, you looked at your best friend one more time with a smile before you put on your shoes and walked out the door, heading towards the car.

The car drive there was peaceful, and you liked that, some calmness before the whole event and the chaos that happens, when you arrived you took a deep breath before you opened the door, unknown to you there was a person hind the door and when you opened it the door has slammed into the person, and your hand flew to your face before you can even speak.

"Oh my god l am so sorry!"

You apologised as you looked up at the person, widening your eyes as you got a bit starstruck. Not only was the person a woman, but she was the most attractive you have ever seen, you stood there, a bit frozen.

"No no, it's alright, it happens"

The woman shook her head as she chuckled, she seemed carefree and forgiving of the accident, she seemed to have asked you something but you were too mesmerised to answer, as you shook your head to focus on the conversation again you felt a bit embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Your face heated up a little.

"l said, are you alright though?"

The woman said with a smile on her face and her eyes gazed into yours, her voice a bit louder as she crowd behind both of you got larger and larger.

"yes l'm okay, sorry that l smashed my car door into you again!"

You apologised again and the woman's smile got a little bit bigger.

"Don't apologise! It's okay! l'm glad your doing alright though!"

The woman's hand went on your shoulder for a little pat before she walked away, leaving you a bit surprised and stunned, not only by her looks but also by how she handled the whole situation.

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"hey you alright?"

You looked up from the voice and saw the woman from earlier, you smile and nodded.

"Yea, just bored"

You chuckled as put away your phone, you don't mind these events but the whole reason you don't usually go is because you find them boring, most times it will just be you alone, tucked away in a corner, scrolling though you phone or reading something, you think that must be why the women from earlier approached you, because she saw you alone.

You flashed a smile, hoping that she will stay and talk.

"Let me tell you a secret, l don't really like this either"

The woman leaned in and whispered, then she let out a chuckle, in cue pulling up a chair to sit in front of you, then she held out her hand.

"Lucy, Lucy Bronze, nice to meet you"

you tell her your name as you shook her hand, her hand is warm, not sweaty warm, but warm enough to make you feel comfortable. There is a moment of silence between you and her, before she spoke up.

"These events can be a bit overwhelming, don't you think?"

Lucy said, glancing around the room. You nod in agreement and chuckled, grateful for the opportunity to share your thoughts with someone who understands.

"Yea, definitely. Sometimes, it feels like everyone here is playing a role, and I'm not sure where I fit in.

"You said with a chuckle and Lucy's eyes soften with empathy.

"I know what you mean, l am the emergency plus one for my friend, but hey, we can be the rebels who break free from the script, right?"

You can't help but laugh at her suggestion, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

"I like the sound of that"

---☆☆☆---

As the evening goes, after a few glasses of champagne Lucy leans in, whisper in your ear as her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"You know," she says with a grin "sometimes I sneak out of these events and go grab a burger. Fancy parties are overrated anyways, no?"

You chuckled and raised an eyebrow, if this is a way for her to ask you if you wanna leave, you would accept it, you never liked these kinds of things anyway.

"Are asking me out?" you reply with a smirk, teasing.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Lucy tilted up her head a little and her lips also turn into a smug smile.

"it will only be if you want it to be" She stopped for a second before continuing, smirk still on her face. "come on" She said in teasing tone "l don't bite.....unless you want me too" She leaned back on the chair and her smirk widened.

You sat there, your face blushing before you regain your composure, back straight and a smile on your face, gesturing towards the exit.

"Shall we make a break for it then?"

Lucy's face turn into a grin before she stood up and took you hand, together you two sprinted out of the event, giggling like school girls as you head off into the streets of the evening.

---☆☆☆---

Not long after you and Lucy slip away from the event, you can't help but notice the city lights twinkling around you, the streets are alive with energy, compared to the event out here is a million times better, especially with a person you have just met but felt like you have known forever.

As you walk side by side, hands tingle, you notice the sky, a beautiful shade of blue, pink, orange and yellow. You stop and admire the sky a little more, as well as pointing up the sky so Lucy can see it too.

"The sky is so beautiful today"

Lucy looked up in the sky, also amazed by it, the view was incredibly stunning, absolutely gorgeous.

"Yea, very pretty" she agreed, unknown to you she was also looking at you when she said those words, but you were too mesmerised by the beauty of the sky to notice it.

When you two start to move again you decide that it would be best if you and Lucy find something to eat, since both of you haven't eaten since the event started and it has been well over 2 hours now.

"We should probably find something to eat, l'm hungry"

Lucy nodded in agreement and she took your hand again before she started to lead you somewhere.

"I know a place, but you have to trust me okay?"

You nodded and with an amused smile, wondering where she would lead you.

You followed her lead and walked for a while, at one point you convinced yourself that you two are lost in the city, but Lucy insisted that you trust her and let her lead you, so you did exactly that and trusted the process.

After a while Lucy finally stopped and you found yourself in front of a quaint little cafe, The golden glow of the light inside contrasted warmly to the darkness in the night. With a grin, Lucy holds open the door, inviting you inside.

"Welcome to our secret hideout," She declares with a playful wink.

You found yourself giggling as you stepped inside, the familiar scent of coffee and pastries washing over you. Finding a cosy booth in the corner, you decided to look at the menu b for a bit before Lucy spoke.

"You know there is something l wanted you to try, it's not on the menu, but l know they make it, do you wanna try it?"

You nodded and decided to take a leap of faith, and trust Lucy on this, so far she had not disappointed you, so why not trust her on this and see what she orders for you.

Lucy smiled and spoke again.

"l promise you will not regret this"

And with that she ordered a pasta dish in Spanish, since you don't know the language you have no idea what she is saying or what is ordering for you, after the waiter has gone there is a comfortable silence between the both of you, you noticed that she is staring at you so you choose to spoke up.

"You know, not everyday you get to have a pretty lady eating with you" You said with a grin.

"yea? And what about it?" Lucy said, teasing as she crossed her arms, her face also bloomed with a smile.

"Maybe l can get your number? So we can do this again?" You took your phone out and handed it to Lucy, hoping that she will put her number in.

"Your not as shy as l thought you would be ey?" She waved her hand as she took your phone and put her number in, when she gives it back to you your hands blushed and your faced heated up, the touch was electric, not like when she held you hand earlier, somehow that was different, that felt somewhat normal, compared to what you felt just now it is completely different.

When the dish arrived it looked amazing so you decided to give it a taste, as soon as the pasta touched your lips your eyes widened at how good it was. Your eyes also lit up, Lucy chuckled at your reaction and found it adorable.

"See l told you that you'll like it"

---☆☆☆---

Over the course of the next few weeks you and Lucy texted everyday, before your shows Lucy would text you good luck and you would do the same before all her matches, it felt like you have known each other for years even though you only knew each other for a few weeks.

After finishing training with the team one afternoon, Lucy entered the changing room to get changed. Suddenly, her phone pinged, and it was you who texted her. She immediately halted what she was doing and responded, her face blossoming into a smile in the process. Ever since that night, she has remained like this, and her teammates have noticed a change in her behaviour, particularly her mood.

"Anyone special in your life Lucy?" Keira asked with a curious manner. Even though they have broken up they have still remained friends, they just fell out of love, it was no one's fault, instead Lucy was happy for Keira that she found Laura, someone that Keira likes.

"no, not really" She tried to lie, but it didn't work. Keira had known her for years even before they started dating, so she can basically read Lucy like an open book. But before she could say anything a song of yours popped up on the speakers and Aitana spoke up.

"oh l love this song!" Aitana said with a big smile on her face, she also started to dance along to the music and sing along to the lyrics, other teammates laughed at her love for your song while Lucy couldn't stop but felt curious about it.

"You like Y/N's music?" Lucy asked, a bit surprised.

Aitana nodded before she spoke up.

"Yea, her music got me through the tough times, l also heard generally she is a really nice person, like her fans and the people around her, l wish l can meet her, but she is currently touring in America and l can't see her, but l am a really big fan yes"

After hearing this Lucy thought of an idea, but in order for this to work she needed to make sure that you are available and her other teammates agree with the plan. Just on cue your text has popped up on her phone again.

After my show in LA l’ll be coming to Barca, do you wanna come see me? You can bring friends too, l don’t mind xx

Perfect, Lucy thought to herself as she replied, first step done.

Of course, also, l got a favour, l got a friend who is a very big fan of yours, do you think you can do a meet and greet with her after the show? xx

You replied only a few seconds later.

I'm doing a meet and greet after the show anyways so maybe just to avoid the crowd we can do it before the show? xx

That's good, Lucy thought to herself and immediately start to type a reply

Yea, that sounds good, see you soon xx

As you both exchanged texts, a smile remained plastered on Lucy's face, refusing to fade away. You responded with the date and time, sharing in her excitement at the thought of seeing each other again. It's been a while since that memorable day, and the anticipation of reuniting has been building up for both of you.

After her first part of the plan is done she goes on to her second, and that is to text everyone. Fortunately, they all agreed to attend the concert, some even say that it is a wonderful bonding activity for the team. She also mentioned to the group that she planned this as a surprise for Aitana.

The team also agreed to the idea and decided to keep it a secret. Now, she just has to wait for the day to arrive.

—☆☆☆—

“Are you ready?”

Frido yelled from Aitana's living room, rushing her. Everyone else on the team had either driven To the stadium alone or driven by their loved ones. Ingrid, Mapi, Frido and Aitana are all going to the concert together, but Aitana takes the most time to get ready, even though she is the shortest of the group.

“Yes! Just hold on for a minute!”

Aitana yelled back from her bedroom, she was rushing everything, from makeup to getting dressed.

Frido rolled her eyes and Ingrid And Mapi both chuckled.

“It is nice of Lucy to do this” Ingrid said with a smile. Aitana has always been one of the very good friends they have, they can trust her on and off the field, she is always very supportive and cheerful.

“It is, but l wonder how she got the tickets, l heard Y/N's tickets are expensive and hard to get like Taylor swift ones” Mapi replied, curious.

Since you are a famous singer your tickets are both expensive, it's not what you wanted but because of the increasing demand for production costs that are associated with your concerts, the price goes up naturally, whether you like it or not, it was out of your control.

“She must have help or has connections, who knows?” Frido answered, checking on her watch to calculate how much time they have left, she predicted that they will be a bit later than everyone else.

Just after Frido finished her sentence Aitana finally came downstairs to meet them, she was all prepared with her green outfit and baseball cap. In your concerts the fans always wear green and a baseball cap, mainly because most of your album covers always have some kind of green in it, no matter it's the background shade or the main attention of the cover, so the fan adapted it and made it your theme, so whenever you have concerts or go on tours your fan will always wear green.

As for the baseball caps the fans found that you will always wear one during your performance, it has a meaning behind it but that's another story for another time. But the fans started to do the same, creating the tradition to wear their own baseball caps to your shows, they will also trade them and bedazzle them, along with bracelets, but that's just a normal thing for concerts trading bracelets.

Fan will often vlog and make videos on the whole process of attending your shows, from the start to the end, and you love watching them, you will like the videos and maybe comment something like “l’m glad you enjoyed the show! See you next time 💚”

“Tada! You like it?” Aitana said as she twirl around with her outfit. It also gave her an idea of whose concert she is going to but she's not sure, she's excited either way.

“Yes, now come along, or else we’ll be late!” Frido rushed with a smile on her face, she pushed Aitana out the door and into the backseats of her car, Mapi also sat in the back with her while Ingrid sat in the front and Frido drove.

—☆☆☆—

When they arrived and got out of the car other teammates noticed her and informed you, you start to walk towards Aitana.

“Hi, your Aitana right? I heard so much about you! All good things of course, and l heard from Lucy that you're a very big fan?” You held out your hand with a smile.

Aitana stood there frozen in shock while she's also starstruck, other teammates laughed at her reaction while you also chuckled.

“I think we broke her” Patri said as another wave of laughter entered the team, Aitana shook her head to clear up and she looked up to you, shaking your hand.

“Yes! I’m such a big fan! It's a pleasure to meet you Miss L/N!” Aitana said excitedly with a full smile on her face.

“Just call me Y/N, Miss L/N makes me feel old” You chuckled and let go of your hand.

“Can l get an autograph or a selfie please?” Aitana said in the same excited tone and took off her basketball cap and took out a pen, ready for you to sign her basketball cap.

“We can do both” You said with a grin and gently took the pen and basketball cap to sign, once you finished you took a picture with her and continued to talk to her for a bit, unknown to you Lucy was also watching you with a soft smile on her face, this does not pass Keira as she planned to question Lucy about later.

A worker from your show came over to you and told you the show was about to start, you nodded and thanked for the reminder before you said goodbye to the team, without a doubt you kissed Lucy's cheeks before you went and walked away. Lucy stood there shocked and her face reddened, butterflies in her stomach, while other teammates stood there in shock.

“You know her?”

“Are you guys dating?”

“How long has this been going on?”

They all asked questions while Lucy just stood there, completely ignoring them and her mind only thought about the moment.

—☆☆☆—

As the team started to walk to their seats Keira spoke up.

“So it's her that you’ve been head over heels for” she teased as she bumped on Lucy's shoulder.

“Oh shut up” Lucy mumbled with a shy smile as she continued to walk, the stadium is large so it takes a while to get to their seats.

“Hey, no judgement, l’m just happy for you, you finally found someone you like” It is true, ever since they broke up Lucy has been single while Keira herself has started to date Laura, she always told Lucy that she should put herself out there and find someone, so when Lucy found you Keira was over the moon for her.

“So how long have you guys been dating?” The question that Lucy dread to answer, you and Lucy have not started dating at all, just crushing as neither of you have the courage to ask each other out, or that's what she thought.

Before Lucy can answer the question the lights start to dim indicating that your show has started, and she decides to focus on your show instead of answering Keira’s question.

“What's up Barcelona! Let's get this party started!’’

You said in a loud and powerful voice as the crowd went wild cheering and the music from your first song of the night started to play, the crowd also started to sing along as you sang, it was a vibe, everyone was happy and content, it was good.

—☆☆☆—

After a few songs you stopped and said a few words.

“Now this song is dedicated to a special person, you know who you are out there, and l hope you like it”

As you scanned the crowd for Lucy, your smile grew wider when your eyes met hers. With locked eye contact, you confidently made your way to the piano and began to play the song.

What would I do without your smart mouth?

Drawing me in, and you kicking me out

You've got my head spinning, no kidding

I can't pin you down

These lyrics are dedicated to the weeks you have spent texting, you have been busy travelling around the world for your tour while Lucy has been playing football and Barcelona, she can't pin you down to see you while you on the other hand cannot stop thinking about her.

What's going on in that beautiful mind?

I'm on your magical mystery ride

And I'm so dizzy, don't know what hit me

But I'll be alright

It is a part of your plan to confess your love to Lucy with the song, and you wrote it as a surprise song for the fans as well, so it's a win-win.

My head's underwater

But I'm breathing fine

You're crazy and I'm out of my mind

'Cause all of me loves all of you

Love your curves and all your edges

All your perfect imperfections

Give your all to me, I'll give my all to you

You're my end and my beginning

Even when I lose, I'm winning

“Lucy! She is basically confessing her love to you” Keira shouted through the loud venue.

Lucy is way too mesmerised by you to hear her.

'Cause I give you all of me

And you give me all of you, oh-oh

How many times do I have to tell you

Even when you're crying, you're beautiful too?

The world is beating you down

I'm around through every mood

This is cue back to the many times when you and Lucy facetime each other whenever there is something happening, no matter you both are feeling nervous or scared to do something, or when you or Lucy were crying, how you would always comfort her by saying that she is worth it and she will do the same thing vice versa.

You're my downfall, you're my muse

My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues

I can't stop singing

It's ringing in my head for you

My head's underwater

But I'm breathing fine

You're crazy, and I'm out of my mind

You felt like Lucy is everything to you, whenever what happens she was there for you even though you were long distance, she is your person and you are hers.

As you continue to sing the crowd along sing along and some of your fans predicted that this song is for Lucy, since there was a few pictures leaked online since the night, fans have started to shipped you two together online and tabloids has gone crazy with articles of you and Lucy, spreading rumours that you are together.

—☆☆☆—

After a few more songs and fans demanding a few more songs your show was finished, you went backstage and got surprised by Lucy and her teammates standing there, waiting for you, you immediately wrap your arms around her and closed your eyes.

“Well done, you have done so well”

Lucy praised you and you relaxed into her touch, her teammates awed at the sight, suddenly Lucy got on her knees and held up a makeshift flower.

“Y/N L/N, you have been a bit part of my life ever since l met you that night, you mean to me so so much and l love how you are always there for me, you are caring, funny and got damn it you are so attractive, will you make me the happiest woman and be my girlfriend?”

As the people around you fell silent, you stood there in shock. After a few heart-stopping seconds, you nodded, tears of joy welling in your eyes. Lucy's arms enveloped you as she spun you around, laughter bubbling from both of you. As she gently set you down, your lips met in a magical kiss, sealing a moment of pure happiness. Cheers erupted from the crowd, marking the perfect ending to your unforgettable moment.

---☆☆☆---

yourusername

Liked by lucybronze, keirawalsh, fridolinarolfo, marialeonn16, ingrid_engen, and 973,528 others

yourusername evening well spent 💚💖

view all 6,389 comments

lucybronze 🌷🌷🌷

y/nsultimatefan LUCY AND Y/N IS REAL! I COPY, LUCY AND Y/N IS REAL

keirawalsh couldn't have done it without me 😙

---☆☆☆---

A/N: l hope you like it! This one is the longest k have written 😅🤣 but it was fun!! The song l used is All of me by John Legend, l head this and got inspired.

This is theta, signing out, see you later!

#lucy bronze x reader #barca femeni x reader #mapi leon #aitana bonmati #fridolina rolfö #keira walsh #woso imagines #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso one shot

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bumblebugwrites · 11 months ago

Text

chapter 1: nothing's new

Pairing: Victor!Treech x fem!Reader

Summary: After nearly two years of peace, you are called back to the Capitol only to find that the future they promised you was a lie.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Cursing, Suggestive Themes, Use of Weapons, Mention of Injuries, Minor Character Death.

Word Count: 6.5k

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Coriolanus Snow is many things, he thinks to himself, but incompetent is not one of them. So there had been the Lucy Gray hiccup. Helping her cheat the Games only for her to die at the hands of Dr. Gaul’s snakes after he failed to slip the handkerchief into their tank was inconvenient, to say the least. As was his brief stint as a Peacekeeper as punishment for his dishonest tactics following the discovery of a certain compact with her remains. Still, he had learned a valuable lesson. Love is no more than a disadvantage, a distraction lodging itself like an unfortunate bump in his flawless plan. And now, he is back, having traded Sejanus’s life for his own advancement. It was nothing personal, really. Personal is a luxury, the only one he can not afford.

Sure, the loss had hurt, but the District 7 boy made a fine victor and one he could control with a far greater degree of ease, given the detachment he felt in regard to the kid’s safety. New year, new him, new Games, and this time, things would be different.

His proposals had gone through without much struggle, especially with Dr. Gaul practically eating out of the palm of his hand. He is the protege; his mentor is the kind of woman you do not cross without bearing the consequences.

And so, on this fine morning, as he stands with the casual grace of a cat, elegantly perched on the corner of his desk, he can’t fight the grin that spreads across his face as he delivers the order he’s been waiting for weeks to give.

“Well? Go get them.”

It is a cold day in District 10, at least colder than most you think as you finish your daily sweep of the ranch and its expansive territory. You pull back lightly on the reins, bringing the horse to a slow stop.

“To name an animal, any animal, it’s counterproductive. Selfish even. Makes for a more difficult slaughter; always best to remain detached.” Your father’s words echo in your head as you dip your neck to whisper soft praise to the creature below, her hind branded with a string of three numbers: 039. Her label, to call it a name, would be to demean anyone granted the privilege of such a thing.

“That was good Bluebell, nice easy ride. Told you it would get better.” She is young. Young enough to spook with a fair amount of ease, but then so are you. Had been ever since your Games.

You dismount, hitting the ground with a soft thud before coming around to face the gentle giant and fishing a handful of sugar cubes out of your pocket. She nuzzles the food in your palm before beginning to eat, and you run a hand up and down the bridge of her nose. The world is quiet, dew still catching the light of the rising sun when you see it in the distance: the armored vehicle speeding towards the cabin housing the front office. It is not unusual for Peacekeepers to come and go from the building, but the night shift typically does not end until 8:00 am, and dawn’s colors still paint the lower half of the sky. Something is wrong.

Two men exit the vehicle, entering the small building before quickly reappearing at its entrance, a third companion in tow. He stands on the porch for one beat, two, a lazy hand draped over his eyes as he scans the field for something. Someone. And then he points. You. They are looking for you.

Your heart leaps into your throat, and your body screams at you to mount once more and ride as fast and as far away as you can, but you stay rooted. Frozen. You watch, helplessly still, as the car only comes closer, pulling to a stop on the other side of the fence, keeping the pastures separated from the open road. The Peacekeeper in the passenger seat steps out, boots scraping the gravel.

“Ms. L/N?” You only nod.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us; you’ve been called to the Capitol.” You feel like screaming, but your throat constricts, and all you can do is take slow, encumbered breaths as your body caves in on itself and you crumple to the ground.

“I– What?”

You do not mind the mud on your knees, and the slow chill that begins to spread from the places dampened by the wet grass is barely perceptible in your state of shock. Called to the Capitol. Your mind jumps back home, your brother and sister still tucked away, blankets to their chins. They would not rise for another thirty minutes at least. You picture your mother. Savoring a final moment of quiet in her busy day, sipping the coffee you’d left in the pot just for her. Your mind replays the goodbyes you had paid them this morning. Careless and quick, not like the day of the reaping. Just sloppy kisses pressed haphazardly to their foreheads and a gentle farewell on your way out the door.

“That’s not possible– It’s not– I haven’t…” There is an eerie stillness to the world at this time of day. One that only seems to press inwards, suffocating you. Distantly, you feel the soft pressure of Bluebell’s muzzle on your shoulder as though urging you to get up

Though the man in the driver’s seat seems annoyed by the inconvenience, his partner fails to shield the look of pity that flits across his face as he dips to pass through the fence, pulling you up and then back through the gap with him. He is not rough as he sets you in the backseat, not like the Peacekeepers you remember from your Games, or maybe he is; everything seems a blur as the car makes its way to the train station, and it is only as the compartment doors to close behind you that you think of Bluebell, left out in the pasture, probably licking fallen sugar cubes off the ground.

Treech releases a labored exhale as he tries once more to readjust his grip on the axe. It’s just a tree. He can sense the nearby Peacekeeper shuffling from foot to foot, anxious for him to get on with the process. This is not the arena. I am safe. I am home.

There is no time off granted to returning victors following their stint in the Games. Production is production, and there are quotas to be met, so Treech had arrived home, and the following morning, before the sun had kissed the hilltops with its light, he had risen to go to work. Only work didn’t come easy the way it used to, lulling him into a rhythmic sense of comfort with its repetitive motions, and each time he raised his axe, all he saw was them. The other tributes waiting to receive the killing blow.

Treech wipes the sweat from his brow in a single frustrated motion in spite of the cold, then, squaring his jaw, he takes a swing. Crunch. The axe lodges itself in Teslee’s head, and he stumbles back, eyes wide with fear. Only it is not Teslee. No. He blinks once, twice, and it is only a pine tree, and he is back in the forest, sinking under the weight of the Peacekeeper’s heavy glare. The man, stationed less than a yard away, begins to move towards him, and Treech prepares himself for another beating, the sharp threats from the last time still ringing in his ears.

“Officer,” a voice calls out in their direction as another man of higher rank, from what Treech can gauge, approaches the pair. The two men meet and begin to speak in hushed voices, eyes flitting in his direction every few sentences. They’re gonna fire me. Or worse, string me up in the square and use me as an example. His grip on the axe tightens. His axe. His father’s before him. He will not go down without a fight.

“Hey, you,” Treech keeps his eyes on the forest floor, silently praying to any higher power that will listen that he is not the you in question.

“Hey! Hey, you!” He can hear the man approaching, but the sound of his footsteps is dulled by the pounding of Treech’s heart. He feels like a child in a bathtub, head halfway under the surface as the water beats at his eardrums, completely still and as loud as a tidal wave. A firm grasp settles around the fabric of his winter coat, far too thin for the cold but the best he can afford.

“Listen to me when I’m fucking speaking to you,” the Peacekeeper spits, and Treech’s mouth settles into a hard line, his hand curled into a tight fist, twitching by his side. The man before him huffs in frustration.

“Call came in from the Capitol; you’re on the next train out,” he moves as though he’s going to release Treech before yanking him back in, close enough to press his mouth to the boy’s ear.

“You’re lucky the order came from above; if I had a say, I’d gun you down right here for the disrespect.” With that, he gives the kid before him a hard shove before beginning to stalk off.

“Let’s go.” But Treech feels as though the ground beneath him has disappeared. Back to the Capitol? Would they send him into the arena? He was done. Won his Games fair and square. He was supposed to be free. What more could they want?

The first thing you notice about the train is that it is the nicest thing you have ever set foot inside of. During your Games, and all those before and after, transport to the Capitol had been relegated to old cattle cars used to shuttle livestock across Panem, and the same had been true on your return trip. This is different. Every inch of the compartment is decorated with the lavish and ornate, all-cushioned seats and elaborate chandeliers.

The second thing you notice is the boy. He is older than you, you think, by several years. Five, maybe six. He seems out of place, tucked into the corner of one of the booths, sizing you up suspiciously. He looks familiar.

“I– Do I know you?”

“We’ve never met before,” he responds, cold and guarded. But there is something about him, his build, tall and broad, dark skin and brown eyes; you could almost imagine them looking soft and kind in a different environment.

He keeps the sharp look on his face, and you have yet to move from the doors when it clicks.

“You won seven years ago; I remember you. District 11. Teff, right?”

“You’re the girl from 10,” he says, and his posture relaxes, if only by a fraction.

“Y/N.” You smile, and you mean it to be a comfort, but there’s a fear in your eyes that betrays the anxiety deep in your gut. Still, you move closer, sliding into the seat across from him and bringing your hands into a neat pile on your lap.

“What are we doing here?” It’s small and whispered as it escapes your lips, and your gaze refuses to meet Teff’s as you wait for an answer.

“I have no idea.”

It is several hours before the train stops again, and though they are mostly passed in silence, the occasional attempt is made at small talk. Whispered theories mingle among everyday questions. So, what do you do in District 11? Do you think they’re gonna kill us? There’s lots of horses back home, cows too. They can’t put us back in, right? Only once, that’s what they said.

The next time the doors open, you are in 2, as indicated by the towering stone walls keeping it separate from neighboring Districts. Three people get on. One of the boys you recognize immediately: Octavian Blackwell, the first victor. His hair is dark, clipped short in a sort of military cut, and his eyes look as though they are carved from steel. Beside him is a girl, small and lithe, her posture relaxed and tense all at once. Antonia. The name echos out from some dark, cavernous corner of your mind. The first female victor, 3rd Hunger Games. The final boy is taller than both his counterparts, though leaner in build than Octavian; you wrack your brain, praying for some form of recollection, but he remains unfamiliar to you.

“More victors,” whispers Teff, and you watch as the three faces before you seem to come to the same realization.

“What the fuck is going on?” It’s the District 2 boy who breaks the silence, the one whose name continues to elude you.

“Hector,” Antonia hisses, a warning lacing her tone, but her eyes betray a curiosity lingering beneath the surface.

“They can’t put us back in, right? There’s not enough. Not to mention, half the districts wouldn’t even have tributes,” you sputter the words up, an involuntary torrent of concern spewing from your mouth. Your gaze flits nervously from face to face, and in spite of the many hardened exteriors, you can feel it beneath the surface, a brewing apprehension. Octavian breaks the silence.

“They won’t put us back in.” And he seems certain. He is old, you think. Not old in the way a grandparent is, but aged certainly. You had never taken the time to imagine a tribute outside childhood, escaping adolescence into fully formed adulthood, but here was Octavian, who must have been at least twenty-six, with several deep-set wrinkles beginning to mar his brow.

“Probably just rounding us all up to kill us, send a real message after those shitshow Games last year,” Hector grumbles, moving further into the compartment and thrusting himself into the booth across from you and Teff. “Just watch; I bet we’ll hit 4 next, then 7, and 1.”

The noise of uncomfortable shuffling seems to fill the compartment, and eventually, Octavian and Antonia settle into the booth beside Hector. You can’t help but allow the shell of a laugh to brush past your lips. A whole train car for the lot of you, and here you were, pressed into the two corner booths. Sure, the cage is bigger, but you still cower like animals. Like you’re back in those trucks ushering you from the train to the arena, gleaning a last moment of comfort as you brushed shoulders with the children you would watch die.

Hector was right. The train stopped at 4, though only one boy got on. Trawl, he’d won the 8th Games, just before yours. You remember distantly hearing of another victor from 4, a boy who was killed upon return. Murdered by the father of his district partner, who accused him of killing her. Stabbed him in the town square, they said. The Peacekeepers only watched.

The train grinds once more to a halt in 7, and quick glance outside the window reveals a station made entirely of wood, grand posts carved with ornate designs supporting the massive roof. You glance towards the door, waiting for him, the newest victor. You do not have to work hard to recall his name, Treech; the two syllables had echoed from every radio in your mother's house the day the 10th Games ended.

The doors open with a hiss, and he stumbles in as though pushed, a mop of curls obscuring his eyes. He seems dazed. As he lifts his head, you watch it happen. The same realization that had dawned on every victor to enter the compartment after you, but then his gaze only grows dull as though accepting some secret fate you had yet to be alerted of before he shuffles forward, taking a seat on a longer bench facing the door. Alone.

It is several more hours before you reach 1, and although some hushed conversation continues to fill the train car, you sit in silence, casting worried glances at the quiet boy with his head in his hands. He is not crying, you think; his shoulders are too still, but his breathing remains too rapid to indicate sleep. Maybe he just likes to listen, you suppose, trying to grasp the newest direction of the chatter around you. Maybe he’s scared. As you turn once more to analyze his hunched shape, Trawl catches your line of sight, speaking up from beside you.

“Just leave him alone; if he wants to sit by himself sulking, that’s his problem,” he mutters close to your ear.

“For all we know, we could be walking into an ambush. Give him a break,” you say, moving to stand before making your way over to the place on the bench beside him. You are quiet for a time, unsure how to start, but as your lips begin to purse around a greeting, he interrupts you.

“I like your hat.” His voice is flat, a single eye visible from behind the curtain of his hair. You forgot you were wearing a hat. It was your father’s from his brief time on the ranch before transferring to the slaughterhouse, where he met your mom. Your hand darts up to trace the brim.

“Thanks, it was–” But then his tone registers, and you recognize the snark behind the compliment, “You don’t mean that, do you?”

“You some sort of cowgirl?”

“How do you know what a cowgirl is?” You ask, and your eyebrows draw together in surprise at the knowledge.

“Read about them in school once, before I dropped out.”

“I guess so. Usually, people just call me a ranch hand.” He lifts his head at this, and you realize he’s quite pretty on closer viewing.

“Doesn’t sound as cool.” The ghost of a smirk lights his face as he says it.

“No, I guess it doesn’t,” you say, grinning back. His smile is quick to fade, and he turns once more, fixing his gaze ahead, away from you.

“Why are we here?” He asks, his cocky demeanor gone in an instant. You ache to be able to provide him with an answer, but the same question has been clawing at you since the two men showed up on the ranch this morning.

“I– I’m not sure.” He nods, and it is solemn, like a prayer, but he does not return his face to his hands, instead watching the miles of land roll by in a blur, no single thing occupying the space outside the window for longer than a second. You find yourself looking, too, imagining how it must feel to go 250 mph. You decide it's probably like flying.

By the time you reach 1 to collect its two victors, a searing silence has spread over the train, the atmosphere tense. The journey to the Capitol is so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and as the skyline appears over the barriers built to keep people like you out, you feel the apprehension shrouding the compartment begin to buzz. It is only then that Hector speaks, shattering the stillness with a single phrase.

“Welcome back to Hell.”

The sun is setting as the train pulls into the station, and you twitch nervously, scraping your nails against the pads of your fingertips. Beside you, Treech watches your movements with a fixed gaze as though pondering reaching out to still the repetitive motions himself. He does not, and you fail to notice his attention on you at all, eyes fixed ahead on the double doors.

When they open, a swarm of Peacekeepers descends on the car within a matter of seconds, hoisting you from the seats, snatching at arms and shoulders in their attempts to muscle you out of the compartment. A startled yelp escapes your lips as the man with a harsh grasp on the collar of your shirt rips you forward and onto the platform, jostling your hat from your head.

“No–” You lunge for the single remnant of your father, straining against the Peacekeeper working to wrangle you towards an awaiting vehicle, but it is no use. He wraps you in a firm pair of arms, lifting you, kicking and biting from the ground the remainder of the distance before tossing you onto the floor of the car. As you whip around to assail him once more, the doors fall closed with a thud, leaving you to pound futilely against them.

Eventually, your jabs lose their power, and you sink down, forehead pressed to the cool metal, biting your lip to prevent the oncoming tears from spilling over. A hand makes its presence known on your shoulder as the car begins to move, and you turn to glimpse Trawl, his face painted with concern. A quick once over of the vehicle reveals only half the victors had been loaded on: you, Trawl, and the two tributes from 1, Lux, who sits with both hands clasped primly in her lap, and Beau, whose only visible sign of distress is the repeated preening of his hair.

“My– My hat. It was my dad’s–” you stutter out as Trawl helps you onto the seat beside his, “I don’t– there’s nothing else left.” The concern in his eyes settles into pity, and you feel like shrinking under the weight of his compassion, tired of feeling helpless.

It is not long before the car pulls to a stop, and the doors come open once more. It is dark out now, and you can’t help but find it unusual, the feeling that you are being smuggled, rushed in under the cover of night. Typically everything is a display in the Capitol. If they are going to kill you, where are the cameras? You are ushered into an elevator, and one of the Peacekeepers extends an arm, scanning a card before pressing the button for the top floor. You think distantly this might be some sort of hotel. You have never been inside a hotel before. A simple ding alerts you to the fact that you have reached your destination, and you are jostled out and through the door directly before you following the swipe of another card.

It is a large room. You had always believed hotels came with the promise of a bed, but this seems more like a home: a kitchen with appliances you do not recognize, a luxurious lounge with a semicircular couch facing a large projection, and a man, his hair as white as snow.

“Please, let’s not manhandle our guests,” he calls out to the group of Peacekeepers herding you into the center of the room, and they back away, taking up posts on the surrounding walls. Their message is clear: you are not permitted to leave.

You reach up to rub at the place where, only moments before, your arm had been kept in an iron grip when the door to the room flings open again, the remainder of the victors stumbling in. Teff comes first, ripping his bicep from the man beside him upon entrance, followed by Hector, Antonia, and Octavian, who seem more contained. Last is Treech, a newly formed bruise beginning to darken the area around his eye, and your father's hat held delicately in his hand, fingers pinched around the rim. He keeps his gaze fixed on the floor but lifts his head upon hearing your stifled gasp.

“Come, make yourselves comfortable. I don’t bite, I promise.” The man at the front of the room speaks with a placating tone and words meant to dulcify, but he smiles like a wolf. No one moves.

“Let’s try this again. Sit down.” From behind you, you can hear the Peacekeepers beginning to shuffle from their stations, inching forward. Octavian is the first to budge. He takes a tentative step in the direction of the couch before nodding at Antonia and Hector, who follow close behind. You look to Teff and then to Treech, only a few feet away from him, still holding your father’s hat. The former surveys the room once before giving you a slow nod, and you move to sit. They file in behind you, Trawl quick on their heels, and the four of you occupy a single corner of the couch being sure to leave room for Lux and Beau. As he slides into the seat next to yours, Treech tenderly sets the hat atop your lap, and you mouth a subtle thank you that he leaves unacknowledged.

“Much better.” The man before you grins, and out of the corner of your eye, you see a look of recognition pass across Treech’s face.

“So glad you could all join us.” He claps his hands together before clearing his throat to begin.

“Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering what you’re doing here, and I want to assure you that in spite of the worries you expressed on the train, we are not going to kill you.” A chill passes down your spine at his implication: they had been watching you.

“See, you represent a new beginning. The birth of a different kind of Games. A better kind of Games.” A wave of confusion seems to pass over the lot of you. Though it is more like anxiety, and you feel a bit like you are drowning in it.

“Now, last year, well, that was quite the mess,” he says, nodding to Treech as though they are in on some sort of joke together. Your stomach turns.

“But the important thing is, we learned something: the people of the Capitol need someone to care about. To root for, if you will. Which means it’s time for a new way of thinking.” He pauses as though for dramatic effect, and you can’t help but think his speech feels practiced. Had he smiled this morning, delivering his death knell to the bathroom mirror?

“Right now, the Games, they make people sad, uncomfortable even. Too much humanity, not enough spectacle.” Beside you, Treech tenses. “There is nothing commodifiable about the current structure. But if, say, we were to place a higher value on the victors and make you celebrities of sorts, then this blight becomes an honor.” The nine faces before him appear as though they are sculpted from stone; he clears his throat before continuing.

“And how, you may ask, do we plan to do that? Well, starting this year, the past victors will be in charge of mentoring the children from your districts.” Here, there is some breakage. Anger, plain and simple, seeping through the masks. Antonia begins to speak.

“Fuck no–”

“I’m not finished, thank you. Now, this will come with an array of new challenges. There will, of course, be interviews to prepare them for, something you obviously have no experience with, as well as a tribute parade.” Your nose crinkles in disgust as the sole image your mind conjures is last year’s tributes chained to a flatbed truck, Brandy’s dead body swaying from a crane above them. Brandy, who you knew. Who was only one year younger than you. Who had a talent for soothing any creature with which she came in contact and who cried for three days the first time she killed a hog.

“And you will be in charge of organizing sponsorships once they are in the arena, networking, and such. But not to worry, each of you will be given an escort from the Capitol, someone to help you navigate the trickier aspects of the job. And you will not go unrewarded either. Starting this year, victors will be granted financial compensation as well as eventual housing in a Victor’s Village, which will be put up in each of your home districts. Still, we will need to begin with a sort of reintroduction to teach the public what your new role as a victor is, and–”

“That’s not fair,” you mumble, so quiet you think no one hears.

“Excuse me?” The man’s gaze is icy cold, like a knife to the chest.

“That’s– That’s not fair. What about the kids in 12? 8? 6 and 5? If you do this, the same people will win every year.” You stare back, and when your hands begin to shake, you hide them beneath your thighs.

“I don’t typically give lessons in power for free; you should be grateful.”

“You’re evil.” And it is not a question. You are certain.

“Not evil, just practical.”

“The Capitol hates us, they think we’re scum. They’ll never get behind this,” Treech offers from beside you, and you see it on him, the mark of last year's Games. The toll they took.

“If the citizens of the Capitol think we care, they will too. I’ll put you on television with the goddamned President if I have to. This will work.”

“What if we won’t do it?” Teff demands, his voice low, tinged with a warning.

“You have a family, do you not?” The man asks, and the threat pools in his eyes, but he voices it anyway. “Would you like to continue having a family?” It is quiet for a moment, and the weight of his words feels heavier than anything you’ve ever carried in your life.

“We were supposed to be done. We won our Games,” It is Hector who speaks this time, rising from his seat. He pauses for a moment, then raises his brow as though in a challenge. “Well, I don’t have any family. Not anymore. Not thanks to this bullshit fucking system, so you know what? I think I’ll pass.” From beside him, Antonia claws at his arm, a pleading look in her eyes. It is too late. The man with the white hair nods, and two of the Peacekeepers on the back wall step forward.

“That’s too bad. He can go.” They are on Hector in a matter of seconds, but they do not make for the door; instead, they seize him, one on each arm, and turn towards the hallway, splitting off from the large central room. Several victors move to stand, with Trawl and Octavian making an attempt to follow, but they are swiftly restrained, and you sit in silent shock as the sounds of Hector’s struggle become distant. A door slams. Then, a gunshot. After that, it is quiet. Your limbs feel stiff, frozen even. From your other side, Lux releases a stifled sob. Somewhere in the distance, you hear Teff throw up.

“Anyone else have any concerns they wish to voice?” It’s as though you have all stopped breathing.

“Wonderful. We’ll begin in the morning. You’ll each have a team here to prepare you for the press tour. Your rooms are numbered by district. Be ready at 5:00 am sharp. I’d hate to have any more incidents.”

“So, we’re trapped here?” You speak again, though the sound of your own voice comes as a shock. The man only sighs.

“This is not a prison, no. Though we would prefer you not leave the premises–” You don’t give him time to finish, making a hasty exit through the door where you came in.

“Just make sure she doesn’t leave the building,” he sighs with a haphazard wave of his hand in your direction.

You are at the bar when Treech finds you, two glasses of Posca deep.

He hadn’t meant to go looking for you, really, only to clear his head and get away from that room. Shortly after your departure, two men had entered with a stretcher and left only minutes later with it full, the vague outline of a body visible beneath a white linen sheet. He had followed them out and then quickly abandoned their company at the prospect of sharing their elevator, instead descending the stairs. From the 32nd floor. And there you were, right as the door to the lobby opened, hat on the bar and your eyes fixed on something he wasn’t sure was really there.

“No hard liquor here. At least not for us,” you huff, slumping in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest.

“And don’t bother asking for the bottle either. They’ll just give you one of these. Nothing more dignified than drowning my sorrows in a glass that costs more than my mother’s house,” you wave a limp hand at the ornate flute before you, doing little to disguise the biting sarcasm in your tone.

“I’ll take what she’s having,” Treech mutters to the man behind the bar, though he keeps his eyes fixed on the counter, unwilling to bear the weight of the curious gaze being pressed upon the pair of you.

“Do you remember them, the other tributes?” You ask suddenly, as though the thought had been clouding your mind for hours.

“The other victors?” You shake your head.

“No. The other kids in the arena.” Treech freezes for only a moment, caught off guard, but it’s enough time for the truth to plaster itself across his face. Every day.

“Sure.” You don’t say anything, only sit patiently, waiting for him to continue. “There was– There was Lamina; she was from home.” I watched her die. I sat by and did nothing. “And there was Coral and Mizzen; they were from 4. And the youngest. She was from 8. Had these hearts made of buttons on her pants. Wovey, I think. From 12, there was Lucy Gray, the girl who sang. Reaper, he was the last to die. I killed him. Killed the girl from 3, too. Teslee.”

He feels his voice begin to waver and opts to stop talking. You sit in silence for a moment, trading quiet nods with the bartender as he returns with Treech’s drink.

“Rye.”

“Sorry?” Treech asks, still lost in the memories of his fellow tributes.

“He was the youngest. He had these eyes just like my kid brother, big and sad. He just stood there, I remember, when the games started. The boy from 2 killed him; just walked up and broke his neck. Couldn’t have been that hard; he was so small. But he looked so surprised like he hadn’t known it was coming, even after he hit the ground.” Treech thinks he might be sick, and beside him, the color has drained from your face.

“Twenty-four kids every year, and we’ll have front-row seats to all of it. The people in the districts, in the Capitol, they’ll forget, let a name or two slip, but we’ll see them all. Watch them train, see their interviews, pick them apart in hopes of a weakness.” Treech downs his glass in one go before signaling to the bartender he needs a refill. You push your flute in the same direction, looking the District 7 boy up and down as though you’d never given him too much thought before.

“I never envied you. The way the Capitol dragged you through the streets for all those funerals, put you behind bars in a fuckin’ zoo, had you play nice and pleasant before sending you off to slaughter. At least ours was quick. Picked us all up on the train, threw us in the back of a truck, and then dumped us in the arena. Nobody knew who we were. Nobody wanted to.” You break off in a laugh that is brittle and unforgiving.

“Maybe it’ll be better this way. I’m in the market for a new job. Turns out you’re no good at chopping trees when you can barely hold an axe anymore,” Treech jokes, but the smile on his face does not reach his eyes.

“They–” but you are quick to pause, halting mid-sentence as though contemplating continuing. You exhale softly before clearing your throat and lifting your eyes once more to meet his.

“They had to fire me.” Treech’s brows lurch forward in confusion, creating two dimples in the flesh just above his nose.

“At the slaughterhouse,” you supply. “They had to fire me. I couldn’t– I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t kill anything. The Peacekeepers, they just wanted me gone. I’m pretty sure they would have just gotten rid of me too, you know, set an example, but I knew the guy who ran the place. I used to give his daughter art lessons. He made a call, and I got transferred. Started working as a ranch hand instead.” You stop, and for a moment, Treech thinks you’ve finished.

“I kept thinking they were him. I would pick up the knife, and suddenly, it was like I was back in the arena, watching him die.” The last part came out in a whisper.

“They say what I did to that kid; they say it was mercy. A mercy kill. But I still killed him, and he’s still dead. And I have never stopped thinking about it.” You clear your throat once more and cast your gaze down, hoping to disguise the tears collecting in your eyes. Treech takes notice. He remembers a conversation not two months prior with his mother. The way his voice shook as he spoke. About the games. About the other tributes. He recalls the twisted expression of discomfort she bore, the pity, and above all, his own anger at feeling helpless. Wounded.

“Art lessons? You paint?” Relief, instant and undisguised, etches itself across your features.

“Draw, mostly. Charcoal, pencil, anything easy to come by. I was gonna be a veterinarian before– Well, you know. I was practicing for scientific sketches, but I just sort of fell in love with the way they moved– animals.”

“You have a favorite?”

“Horses are the hardest. Cows– they’re soft, like people. Some people, I guess. I saw a fox once, little gray thing, sleeping in the grass. I think maybe I liked that one the best. My mom used to say it was good luck, a fox crossing your path. Though, I can’t imagine how. That– That was the day before my reaping.”

You sit in silence for a moment before Treech speaks again.

“You lived. Maybe that was it: the good luck.”

“Sometimes I wish I hadn’t. Like maybe everyone else got out easy, and here we are still living in a nightmare.”

“It won’t be like this forever,” he whispers, but it’s as though he’s pleading with some higher power that it might be true. “It can’t be.”

“Wake up, Treech. This is it for us. They are gonna drag us out here every year to flounce around the capitol, parading new kids to their deaths– or worse, whatever this is, the horrible aftermath–”

“There’ll be new mentors. New winners–”

“Yeah, in 1 and 2 and maybe 4. Don’t you get it? We’re the runt districts. We’ll be lucky if we see another Victor in the next twenty-five years,” Treech swallows hard, willing his mouth to stop tasting so dry; he can feel his heart in the pit of his stomach. “Maybe you ran with the pack in your games, but things are gonna change. Look around. They already are.”

#treech #treech fanfiction #treech thg #treech x reader #treech tbosas #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #tbosas #the hunger games #hunger games #district 7 #x reader #thg #no evil angel but love #neabl

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cherubispunk · 10 months ago

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NEPHILIM: BAMBI - Jackson-era!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: when does a human stop being regarded as a human…and, instead, seen as something different entirely?

a note from Lucy: No smut? Huh? Someone check my temperature please. I liked writing Nephilim so much that I decided to do a small Drabble of the exact moment Bambi got her name. Think of it as a prequel of sorts. Takes place soon after Bambi recovers from sepsis. Enjoy!

playlist | moodboard

wc: 1563

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! no use of y/n but reader is referred to as ‘Bambi’, no physical description of reader apart from ‘long lashes’, brief descriptions of injury and blood, religious imagery, use of guns/ being taught to shoot, me not remembering how to shoot even though I was taught how to so there may be inaccuracies lolsies, Joel is a little bit of a dick but it’s only because he cares!

series masterlist | m.list

Psalm 18:33 He maketh my feet like hinds' feet, and setteth me upon my high places.

When does the man become the monster? Is it his first kill? Or maybe his first thought of pulling the trigger? It might be the moment he picks up the gun. When the metal is cold in calloused palm. A human would find it heavy and unwelcoming. A monster might find it a comforting thing though. To know he is protected at his own hand. Are they even entirely separate? A person may be both at once. Monster. Human. Who is the righteous one, the wise one, who draws the line. Is it God? The people? And how thin of a line is it?

Joel could be both. In the Venn Diagram, the spectrum of Monster and Man, he resided in the very middle. That’s what they told you anyway. You took it with a pinch of salt. Thought it a rather hypocritical comment to make for no one in this world was truly pure of sin. Even the lamb grazes the grass that the foal could have. Though Joel thought you came damn close to purity. He now associated the colour of your eyes with innocence. Conditioned to the thought whenever he saw it in nature, or in a person's clothing. Slaved away to keep it. Protect it. Was a man that protected truly a monster? Because the things he did, the sin he committed, the blood on his hands, was all in the name of protection in one way or another.

He quite liked being alone before. But the more time he spent engaging in the odd conversation with you, the more he realised how dull it was to talk to himself. He and himself were only acquaintances. You felt more like a friend. His first real friend since Tess.

So maybe the question is this; When does a human stop being regarded as a human…and, instead, seen as something different entirely?

—

“I can’t do it.” You huffed, looking back at him and dropping your arms. In your hands was Joel’s rifle. The weight of it foreign and uncomfortable. The trigger cold, and your fingertip not calloused enough for it to feel like it belonged. The metal bit back. It said ‘you don’t belong here’. It commanded you: ‘Give me back’. The weight of it was unsettling. In your hand was the weight of a life taken. Or a life spared. And yet he stood behind you with his arms crossed, his brow set in stone, furrowed together in a frown akin to the busts of Caracalla. Narrowed hawk eye on your poor form. Unsteady on your feet and uncertain with your trigger finger.

“You can.” He replied, voice clipped and snippy. Not giving you a choice. “And you will.” He spoke in such a grating edge it seemed he was frustrated merely through your apprehension. “Eject the cartridge.” So you sighed, abiding his words, pressing the butt of the rifle into the crook of your shoulder and staring down the barrel at the tree you hadn’t landed even a graze on once. “Feet shoulder width apart, girl.” He reprimanded. Joel had repeated that one point about five times now in the past hour. And each time you’d forgotten. Something as simple as the planting of your feet on the snow blanketed ground. Your mind was in disarray and a disconnect with your body.You looked down at your feet and shuffled them wider apart.

You felt his strict grip find temporary and telling purchase on your hips, jerking you side on so the foot the side of your non-trigger hand pointed towards the target. Even through layers of winter clothing his touch made you shiver far more than any biting winter wind could. “Like this.” That tone again. It was windburn on your cheeks. It was pins and needles in your feet. Unpleasant, painful, and long enduring.

“Sorry.” You mumbled.

“Don’t be sorry. Be better.” And he stepped back to observe once more.

He didn’t do it to be mean. He didn’t say it to be curt, and rude. He did it for your benefit. Because one day your loose tongue would very well find you without it entirely. Still, it hurt. To know he was so willing with criticism and so restrained with compliments. He must bite his tongue so often that it grows back sharp. It felt like lashes from the cat of nine tails upon your back; Your skin now lacerated and tender from each blow. Regardless, you swallowed the lump in your throat whole. It could suffer and scorn and burn in your churning stomach. You inhaled, and on the exhale you pulled the trigger.

Miss.

You huffed again, utterly defeated. Your heart seemed to sink lower when you looked at him. His face still set with the same Caracalla frown.

“Again.”

“What’s the point, Joel?” You protested for the second time. Desperate to go back to town and wallow. To not have to face that grimace. You felt like a child, waiting for that fateful ‘I’m not angry, just disappointed’ speech. “I’m not a violent person. I’m not like you. I’m not—“ the words faltered as you tried to find them. You stopped yourself before you could blurt the first that came to mind. But he knew. Joel always knew. He didn’t need to say anything for you to admit it. Merely raise a brow and dare you, urge you further.

“Y’should think before y’speak.” You nodded at his words, eyes trained on his boots. “Again.”

Too ashamed to fight any further, already treading on thin ice and skidding miserable on wobbly doe legs. Too soon would you thud to the floor and plunge into the icy waters below. You must find your footing again.

It was in this very shame you obeyed, picking up the weapon again with bated breath and aiming. But your mind was elsewhere. It scattered like the spray of a shotgun's fire. Your form was off. You’d lost that stance from before. And you were too busy in your own head to even think about paying attention to the tree trunk down the other end of the barrel. You fired without the inhale before as well as the beat of your exhale. The recoil was strong, the butt of the rifle ricocheting into your shoulder causing an ache to dissolve through flesh and sink to bone. The sound was jarring, it rang in your ears, rattled in your head. And you lost your footing, stumbling back with the force towards the snow.

Joel saw it coming. He expected you to right your footwork. To breathe in and fire on the exhale. But the sound of the bullet leaving the chamber came before any of the aforementioned. A simple stride in haste and he was behind you, stopping you before you fell to the floor.

“Jesus, Bambi!” Joel gritted through his teeth when you collided. The sound was becoming less jarring. But the name. The name was new. It was fresh. And ripe. A fruit that would never rot. Be eternally sweet. He had thought about it before; You had these wide eyes that looked up at him through thick lashes. You were tentative with your footing. And uneasy on your feet when it was cold. He remembered when he found you in the snow; Curled up on your side with the flesh wound under your trembling palm, bleeding through your shirt and gaps between frail fingers. He thought of a doe just born. Fresh and pure. So vulnerable it ached to not reach out and nurture it. When he looked into those eyes, the eyes of the woman in his arms, he saw it all again. A picture that was printed on the backs of his eyelids when he slept. Or where he blinked for that matter. In waking and in sleep, it haunted him. Whispered in his ear with a warm breath that paralleled the alive and beating. He felt a sharp sting in his heart. He didn't know it then, but it was Eros’ arrow. He would know soon enough.

You shared the time between the words and the writhing of your feet. Shared it with a stare in imperturbable silence. A simmering, deep stare. It wasn’t deep in the sense of a gaping void. More like a watering hole. Something that promised plentiful supply and the chance of survival. The satiation of the unquenchable.

You would learn one day that his love for you can quench any thirst, satiate any hunger and rest any fatigue. All this and he would still be left thirsty, starving and exhausted. Accept him for what he is. Heavy handed, colossal, brutal. Loving, nurturing, tender. Just a man. Give him on chance — one meagre, single moment in time — and he’d decay at the swipe of his tongue across the bottom of your lip alone; Finding a homage for him between them. A feeling he would wish to indulge in selfishly cradling his beating chest. And maybe, just this once, he will let himself be selfish with something that wasn't just for the purpose of survival.

So I beg of you, contemplate: if a man deemed a monster can still love, if a man named the devil can see innocence, grace, beauty, and nurture it— is the man still a monster? Something else entirely? Or is he just human?

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