#may try a different opening? a more descriptive one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

peachesofteal · 2 months ago

Text

Simple Math / Part Seventeen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader - AO3 - 4K words Tags: 18+ mdni. nurse!reader. PTSD, references and descriptions of domestic violence , grooming, manipulation, pregnancy. Simon's back story. Trauma. Bun opens up a bit more. Domesticity, feelings of anxiety, self doubt. Simon is a nervous dad. Emotional confessions.

“It’s Beth.” Simon wipes the countertop, chasing little dirty fingerprints with a wet cloth, before fixing a hesitant set of eyes on yours.

“That’s pretty… I like it.” There’s something odd about his expression, something haunted almost, a deep, dark well filled to the brim with rancid, stagnant water. You sense it immediately. “What’s wrong?”

He motions to the chair and slides your mug into your waiting hands. “Sit.”

“Simon?”

“It was my sister in law’s name. My brother’s wife.” Was. Your throat goes dry, muscles tensing.

“Was?” He pulls your fingers into his, cradled in the palm of his hand, thumb rubbing circles into your skin, over and over on a loop. A mechanism of comfort, connection. A thread stitch into the fabric between your heart and his.

“They died, sweetheart. My family… I lost them.” Grief, a shared experience you know now, froths in the pit of your heart. You tremble, he holds you steady, though it should be the other way around.

“What… what happened?” He sighs, dragging your palm to his lips.

“Let’s sit down on the couch.”

He holds you as he talks, diaphragm rumbling against your ear. You’re laid on his chest, unable to see his face, watch his expressions, but for this, you don’t feel the urge to dissect each one.

You’re content against him. Listening. Mourning.

There’s a swath of silence afterwards, and then he clears his throat. “So, I was dead. Dead until I met Johnny, I think. And then everything changed.” Johnny’s words from weeks and weeks ago make more sense, Simon’s actions and reactions rapidly gaining clarity. “When we found you, I saw it, the look in your eyes. It was the same one that used to haunt my mother’s.”

“You saved her.” He burrows his face in your neck and shakes his head.

“I did what I could to piece them back together. Helped get Tommy clean and on his feet, got rid of the old man for good, but the damage… the way she suffered, it was irreversible. The best I could do was be there as much as often as possible.” You comb through his hair, short strands of silk like Penny’s, and hold him close. “I promised myself, when I met Johnny, when we fell in love, I’d do better by my own family. For him, and then by Penny. And now you. Promised I wouldn’t become him.” Your heart clenches, squeezing in on itself. “Violence may have been a part of my job, but it wasn’t a part of me.” His fingers dance along your spine until they reach your chin, tilting you back to meet his gaze. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You whisper, leaning into his touch. He doesn’t need to ask for your trust, he already has it.

“Johnny thinks I’ve got a bit of a savior complex now, but I want you to know… that’s not what this is, bunny.”

“I know,” you clear your throat, fighting through the thick of emotion building there, accumulating in heaps, “I know that.”

“But we do need to talk about him, you know that?” Darkness creeps along the wispy, dream-like cocoon the two of you built on the couch, and you push it away, try to banish it, basking in the comfort of his arms instead.

“I can’t, I… right now it feels like I’m in a dream where nothing hurts and nothing can scare me or hurt me, and I don’t-“

“You’re not in a dream, bunny. That’s your reality. This is real. Nothing can, or will, hurt you, scare you. No one will ever touch you again.”

“I need more time. Please.” Simon sighs, but doesn’t push, and the two of you lay there, together, suspended in comforting silence. For another moment, your world is a dream. A safe, beautiful dream, where happy endings are real, where love stretches on for eternity, unconditional, limitless, unbreakable.

You’re so different now, stark changes shocking to the girl you once knew, the one who doubled back on her routes to and from work, the one that walked everywhere with her hackles up. Little pieces of black rot now turned a blinding white, a brilliant beam seeking to shine on the whole of your life.

It’s a dream.

One you won’t easily surrender.

“I was really young.” It comes during a lapse in conversation, practically a blurt, an interruption pushing heat to your cheeks. Expelled from your mind, your body without choice, cracks appearing in the preservation that you’ve so defiantly clung to. You have to tell them, eventually. You have to break it all apart, let them see. Johnny’s mouth opens, and Simon’s hand darts to his wrist faster than a snake could strike, a clear signal. Don’t speak. “Obviously now, looking back on it, I realize I was groomed, or I guess, easily influenced. He was older, and I graduated early, started college early. I was in my second year when I turned eighteen. My mom,” the lump in your throat nearly chokes you until you swallow it down, “my mom busted her ass for me. I went to college on scholarships and her hard work.” Metal clanks against ceramic, forks settling on the edges of plates. “Anyway, everyone always thought I was a know-it-all and pretty awkward. We weren’t officially like, together right away but it was pretty serious from the day I met him. Eventually… he started to change me. Change my goals. He even manipulated my career path.”

“What did you go to school for?” Simon asks casually, head tilted.

“Bioscience. I wanted to be a doctor, so I thought it would transition well for med school. Thought I could become a surgeon.” You were a girl then; you know that now. Naïve, misguided by a hand that sought to control you, not love you as you hoped. It’s embarrassing, baring this, showing these broken bits and pieces to them, shattered shards of a mirror never glued back together.

“What happened?”

“He did.” Johnny squeezes your hand. “Made it to pre-med but ended up leaving and starting a nursing program instead. It’s what he wanted, and by then, I couldn’t say no.”

“But ye didnae want it, to be a nurse.”

“No. I didn’t. I love my job now, of course, and I’m happy in it, but originally, I wanted something else. He tricked me, in all honesty. Showed me something that wasn’t real, reeled me in, and then revealed his true colors.” You shudder. “The first time… the first time it happened, I shook it off, forgave him. I-“ the memory is still so strong, it stuns you. The blood from your busted lip is fresh on your tongue, sting on the side of your face turning to a blooming ache.

“Bunny?” Johnny’s grip moves to your elbow, strong, but not too tight. An anchor. You shake your head.

“Sorry.”

“Ye’re alright, ye can stop if-“

“No, I… I want to share these things with you. It feels like I’m supposed to, like you should know me… like this.”

“We already know you, sweetheart. Don’t push yourself.” Simon’s tone is serious, and you nod.

“It’s embarrassing, looking back on it and realizing how bad it was, how bad I let it get. How I let him cut me off from everyone, change my career, squash me like a bug.” You laugh, but it’s empty.

“Ye did nothin’ wrong,” Johnny’s lips press together, muscles in his jaw straining, “was never yer fault.” You don’t answer, just trace the woodgrain of the table, texture moving beneath your fingers. The conversation is draining you, leeching light away like a horizon swallowing the last of the sun.

“He’s rich. Like, fuck you money rich. Rich like make problems go away rich, and his job…” your head shakes again. It’s the most you’ve ever said, heavy buried secrets finally dug up, resurrected, the truth trembles through your bones. “He has resources. Has chased me across the globe more than once. My only saving grace is that when he has to work, he has to work, and it’s usually for long chunks of time.”

“I know you’ve said you’re not really sure, but did he ever tell you what his job entails?”

“He’s in the military. Some sort of security work, department of defense, or something. He never really talked about it.” Johnny shifts in his seat, antsy, and you shrug. “He kept that part of his life very, very private. There was even a room in the house that was always locked.” Your head is heavy, lead upon your shoulders, and Johnny tucks his arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

“I know this is hard bun, but ye’re so brave for us. Lettin’ us know ye this way. I’m proud of ye.” He murmurs, lips to your forehead, and you fully relax, wrapping around his middle.

“I’m tired.” You whisper, eyes closing, and he rubs your back.

“Let’s get ye to bed then.”

“Your child is too big for me to carry!” You announce, hand on your hip, little backpack straps looped around your arm. Simon closes the door behind you, chuckling, and Penny plops onto the floor. She goes to a nursery day program now a few days a week, something that was a contentious subject in the house for far too long, opinions and arguments ping ponging over your head until the decision was finally made.

“It’s not safe.”

“Ye cannae keep ‘er locked up here forever, love.”

“Why not?” Simon bounced Penny against his chest, unimpressed look on both their faces, so alike you almost busted out laughing.

“Because she’s a child. She needs to be w’other children, not just us.” Johnny brings his free hand to his lips, squeezing Simon’s wrist. “I know ye’re scared.” Simon’s not the only one who’s scared, you thought. Phillip lurked at the edge of your mind, worry that he might find Penny plagued you, even though they both assured that wasn’t their main concern.

“She’s too little.”

“Simon. We agreed on this,” Johnny gives him a sharp look, “do yer research, find the best one. Ye know this needs to happen, for her. She needs to make friends, learn how to interact with kids her own age. Ye know this.”

“Fine.”

“She cannae be, not m’wee lamb.”

“She is.” You rub your shoulder. “Sheesh.” Penny’s stomach gurgles at your feet, and Simon grimaces.

“There’s a bug goin’ around the kids, teacher told me today.”

“Not surprising. Nurseries are little petri dishes.” You straighten your back, rolling your shoulder, and wince.

“Hurts?” Simon’s thumb digs into the soft spot there, and your lashes flutter.

“Maybe ye need a hot bath,” Johnny suggests, and Simon ushers the two of you up the stairs.

“I’ve got Pen. Go relax.”

“This is nice.” Johnny soaps your back, lavender and vanilla steam swirling around in the bathroom as you lean against him, his chest to your back.

“Aye.” The cloth drags across your chest, teasing your nipples, and you revel in his touch, soaking in every second he gives you, the brush of his cheek against yours, his lips on your neck. “Like havin’ ye all to myself sometimes.” You blink.

“Does it bother you? When we’re not all together?”

“No. Ye have a relationship wit’ me, and wit’ Simon, and we have a relationship all together. No one is the same. I like it.”

“Me too.” You settle again, loose and tender in the bath, soaped hands running up and down your back, kneading your shoulders, releasing the tension coiled in your bones. You groan.

“Feel good then?”

“Yeah.” He presses a hand over your heart with a deep breath, before he takes another.

And then one more.

“What’s wro-“

“I love ye bun. Wholly. Think ‘ve loved ye since the day I opened my eyes to ye leaning over the bed in hospital.” You turn, twisting to face him, and he dabs your nose with his thumb. “I dinnae have any expectations of ye, or yer feelings, but I had to be honest. I had to tell ye.” The confession fights its way forward, begging to be let out, to be freed.

Tell him. Tell him the truth. Tell him you love them, that they’re your light, that they’ve chased the darkness away and replaced it with the sun.

You can’t.

Instead, you rest your forehead against his, syncing your breathing, sharing the moment, holding onto him so tight in case he slips away.

“I can’t say it.” You whisper, and he nods. “But that doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean it’s not there. I’m just… I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“An’ that’s okay. I’ll wait, I’ll wait for ye as long as ye need.” There’s no pressure, no demands, just Johnny and his arms, his understanding and patience, his love.

You blink back tears and crash your lips to his. “Thank you.”

Your stomach is what wakes you.

Something it in is burning, tossing bile around, the sensation strong enough your lips curl, and you try to draw a deep breath through your nose.

You wriggle, trying to pull free from where you’re tangled up in Simon and Johnny, carefully and slow, hoping to avoid waking them though you know even in their dreams, they sleep with one eye open.

Still, you manage to make it to the bathroom before feet are padding across the carpet on your heels.

You sink to your knees in front of the toilet, stomach bubbling, sending the scorching remnants of dinner up your throat.

The door clicks open. “No, get out. I don’t want you to see-“ you gag again, tap turning on at the sink, a cold washcloth folding over your neck.

“Shhh,” Simon murmurs, rubbing your back, “get it all out.”

“Oh god,” another wave swells, and your muscles tense, body expelling bits of bile and not much else.

“That’s the way, good girl.”

“This is gross.” You gasp. “You should go back to bed.”

“I’ve seen way worse than you puking, sweetheart.”

“She alright?” Johnny half yells from the bedroom and you groan. The guilt of him having to maneuver himself out of bed, still not one hundred percent healthy, still not back to full strength, draws a shiver from your spine.

“I’m fine, don’t come in here!” Your stomach pitches, fingers tightening against your thighs, but nothing comes up, again and again, until everything settles and you’re breathing deeply, steady, back straight.

“Let’s get you some water.” There’s no point in arguing with him. He’s going to do what he wants to do when it comes to taking care of you, you know that now. It’s painfully clear as he tries to help you drink from the glass, and then puts toothpaste on your toothbrush.

“I’m fine.” You assure weakly, but he only watches you, concerned.

“Think it’s the nursery bug?”

“Probably.” You sag, energy drained completely, and he steadies you, cupping your cheek. His touch is cool, and you lean into it, savoring the reprieve it brings against your throbbing temples.

“Want to go back to bed?”

“What if I throw up again?” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll jus’ clean it up.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You glance up at the timid mouse of a nurse, brand new, fingers clutched around a tablet like she’s drowning and it’s her life vest.

“What’s up?”

“Can you… can you look at these orders for me?” She looks terrified, and it tells you everything you need to know. She’s probably caught a mistake.

Baby nurses begin their careers in a delicate position. They’re overwhelmed, fresh off a whirlwind of orientation, overloaded with policy and procedure, and depending on their preceptor, either somewhat prepared or completely lost. Pitting a baby nurse against a provider, even a first-year resident, is like sending a lamb in to confront a lion. The result is usually tears.

She hands you the tablet and you spot it immediately. Incorrect dosage.

“Good catch.” You reassure, coaxing a small smile, and she nods.

“What do I do?”

“We go find the provider and clarify the dosage.” You’re not going to leave it up to her, alone, hang her out to dry and probably get run over by whatever moron ordered it in the first place, who happens to be-

Marshall.

Your eyes couldn’t roll any harder. “The pharmacy is also very on top of seeing errors like this, but it’s good you’ve noticed too, for the patient and yourself. Liability for things like this can be very tricky.” She nods again, trailing behind you, brand new squeaky sneakers echoing your own steps.

You can’t stop the sigh that escapes you when you find him, leaned up against a wall, arms crossed, smirking, cocking his head at your companion. “What’s up?”

“Can you take a look at this for me?” You purposefully zoom in on the meds tab, practically painting a bullseye around his error. He scoffs, defensive immediately, dismissive, before he takes a closer look, jaw clenched.

“That’s my mistake.” You blink. Marshall rarely ever takes responsibility so gracefully. Your eyebrow lifts.

“Care to fix it?”

“Of course.” His agreement is punctuated with a smile, though it’s off kilter.

“You can go,” you nod to the nurse, “good job.” Her eyes dart between you and Marshall, and without another word, scampers off.

“She’s new?” His usual interest in new nurses is less enthusiastic than ever.

You hate Marshall. He’s a scumbag. But he’s also been your coworker since day one, and you can’t help yourself. “What’s up with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never owned up to a mistake that quickly, and you didn’t even make some smart-ass remark. Or berate her. Or give me an attitude.” He winces.

“It’s nothing.” But it doesn’t seem like nothing. It seems like something is wrong, like he’s sad, or depressed, and try as you might, your bleeding heart can’t walk away.

“What’s wrong.” You phrase a statement, a demand, instead of a question, and he blows a frustrated breath.

“It’s… I’m seeing someone.” Your eyes go wide.

“Who?” Please don’t say a nurse, please don’t say a nurse, please-

“Anna. From radiology.”

“Oh my god. The cupcake girl?” Anna was a fan favorite. Not only was she kind, but she was also quick with her reads, and baked cupcakes for the entire floor almost once a month. As far as radiologists go, she was better than most.

“Yeah.”

“Okay…”

“I really like her but… she’s always been aware of my reputation and is trying to take it slow. Too slow.” You could lecture him with a million reasons why she’s in the right, but it doesn’t seem like he’s got the resolve to handle it.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s dragging her feet. Doesn’t want to hang out more than once a week, rarely stays the night. I’ve been to her place a handful of times, but that’s it.”

“How long has it been?”

“Two months.” You laugh.

“That’s it?”

“It’s a long time for me!” You hold your hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, but seriously. Two months is no time at all. Have you discussed the… reluctance with her?” He seems uneasy, and for the first time, you’re not sure if you enjoy watching him squirm.

“Yeah. She says she’s happy, but isn’t trying to jump into anything,” his air quotes carry a whiff of the condescending asshole you know too well. This conversation couldn’t be timelier, and you think back to what you told Johnny the other night.

“Just because she’s taking it slow doesn’t mean her feelings for you aren’t there. You have to respect that. If she’s still putting up with you after two months, I’d bet she’s just being cautious. Getting hurt sucks.” He nods thoughtfully. “Give her the time she’s asking for, and don’t give up.”

Don’t give up.

The sentiment twists a knife lodged deep in your heart. Is that what will happen to you? Will they give up? Get tired of waiting for you to spill all your secrets, get tired of waiting for you to take the final step? To tell them you love them?

Get tired of waiting for you to let them use your real name?

“I didn’t expect her, didn’t expect to feel this way.” The mask comes down, revealing a hopelessly lovesick heart, the depth of it shining in his eyes.

“I don’t think anyone ever does expect it. That’s the surprising thing about love, I guess.” You sway, a palm pressed to the wall as your hand flattens over your stomach.

“You alright?” Marshall’s voice is far away as you breathe through your nose, trying to fend off the nausea tightening your throat.

“Sorry, I’ve been a bit under the weather. Think I’ve got a bug or something.” Your stomach roils in warning, and you barely grit out an apology before dashing away.

Just in time to toss your breakfast up in the toilet.

“I’m fine.”

“I heard you in the toilet. You didn’t sound fine, and you shouldn’t be working if you’re sick.” Your manager shakes her head like she’s disappointed, and you glare. You both know if you had called this morning talking about a stomach bug, she would have told you to suck it up unless you were actively vomiting.

“Look around. Do you see an excess of nurses on the floor?”

“We’ll manage. Or call someone in.” You shake your head.

“We’re already way past policy ratios.” You bite your tongue when safe nearly slips out, not wanting to piss her off. That’s the union’s job.

“At least go sit down or something. Take a break. Come back in twenty minutes and let me know how you feel.”

Your closet is cozy, and for once during the day, unoccupied. The nausea has subsided, for now, and you shoot a text to the guys, asking about Penny. If you feel like this, you can’t imagine how she feels.

You curl up and imagine you’re home instead, maybe in bed with a sleeve of crackers and some soda, warm chest at your back, a hand stroking over your hip. Maybe you’d have some soup, maybe the three of you would watch a movie after Pen went down for bed. You start to drift in the domestic fantasy, sleeping curling itself like a blanket over your shoulders, until you’re startled by the vibration of your phone, foot kicking forward in a jolt against a shelf.

A box falls to the floor.

HCG strips.

You stare at it for a long time, numbers and dates and weeks mashing together, calculations getting lost in the fray.

You’re not…

No.

Ridiculous. Not even possible. You’re on the pill. Religiously.

You have the nursery bug that Pen brought home. Get a grip.

Still…

You use the fifth-floor bathroom, one of the only single occupant toilets in the whole damn hospital, nausea now coming from a completely different source.

The timer on your phone is incredibly slow, or maybe it’s just time itself, the world turning in slow motion, every second elongated into turbulent silence, too many thoughts, too many feelings, too much of everything to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Fear.

Anxiety.

Panic.

Sadness.

Grief.

It’s grief that is the strongest. Grief for something that Phillip stole, mourning for something that was once so close, so real, and then gone in an instant.

If you close your eyes, you can still feel his boot in your stomach. The press of a steel toe, jammed beneath your ribs, wild, deranged eyes staring down at you in a rage.

But-

Buried so, so far beneath the crushing weight of it all, there is a bright little pocket of sunshine. A small little sliver of light, beams of hope stretching for the sky, warmth spilling over until your hands tremble with the conflict warring inside you.

Nothing has changed, but everything could.

The timer goes off with a shrill chime, and you lean over the sink to where the small strip sits on top of a cup.

A bold pink line.

And then another, more faint, but certainly there. A simple equation, one plus one equals two. Simple math.

Tangible. Present.

Pregnant.

#simple math #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x soap x reader #buckle up

990 notes · View notes

writers-potion · 6 months ago

Text

Writing Mad Characters

Okay this is a bit awkward because I had this question copypasted into Google Docs I use to draft my answers, and I realized I've lost the question in my inbox (which is being flooded).

So...I'm so sorry for whoever asked this question. Sorry for the delay because I was struggling with life in general for the past month and definitely SORRY for losing your question (－‸ლ)

Q: I'm writing a story where a major character is slowly spiraling into madness where small details kinda hint into the downfall right before the bigger details appear and then it the floodgates open. Is there anything I should avoid? Anything that I should keep in mind? Anything that I should research?

Things to Avoid

“Mad” or “Insane” is too general. Writing a cliched ‘crazy’ character who randomly talks to imaginary people and lashes out at strangers, you’ll offend a whole bunch of people who've gone through/have mental illnesses. Read up on existing mental conditions (schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, post-traumatic disorder and borderline personality disorder, etc.) to see what your character might have.

Words like “mad” “crazy” or “insane” aren’t enough when you’re describing their status. As mentioned, these words hardly mean much when it comes to providing a clear description.

Contradicting yourself. Throwing random unhinged symptoms here and there wouldn’t work. In fact, you must have a clear arc on which they’re traveling and ensure that your “hints” are all getting at something.

Making the character overly destructive or harmful to others (when nothing really justifies it)

Justifying damaging behavior with this “madness”. Mad or not, your character will still have motives and goals that drive them forward.

Making them look incompetent just the fact that they have a mental condition that makes them appear “mad” to others shouldn’t prevent them from achieving success. In fact, they may be even more cool-hearted and logical when it comes to their obsessions/goals.

Research Tips

Narrow down the mental conditions your character experiences. Even if it’s a fictional condition, try basing it on existing ones and building on top of them.

Take some time to study characters and/or real clinical cases that resemble the kind of madness you’re going for.

- Anxiety Disorders: excessive fear and dread (ex. phobias) - Mood Disorders: persistent swings in mood or persistent feelings that interfere with daily life (ex. Depression, bipolar) - Psychotic Disorders: disordered thinking (ex. schizophrenia) - Eating Disorders: extreme emotional attitudes toward food (ex. Bulimia, anorexia) - Impulse Disorders: unable to resist urges (ex. Kleptomania, pyromania, gambling) - Personality Disorders: extreme inflexible personality traits (ex. Anti-social disorder, OCPD) - Past Traumatic Stress: persistent, frightening memories leading to emotional numbness

Does your character have empathy?

A sociopathic kind of madness is different.

General Writing Tips for Spiraling into Madness

Establish a Baseline

A lot of factors (stress, family history, innate personality, trauma, etc.) can contribute to madness, but it is not going to happen in a week. Define the existing mental and physical conditions your character has, and start from there.

If you’re aiming for suicidal tendencies at the end, you want to start with symptoms of depression (a condition that may lead to suicide) - growing apathetic, erratic sleeping patterns, irritability, etc.

This is also the stage where you want to plant some triggers that’ll go off later.

Trigger Events

A perfectly sound character suddenly spiraling down the madness route due to a single accident or traumatizing event isn’t convincing.

A madness “snap” denies the reader the experience of watching the character’s journey into madness and how they feel about it.

Internal Conflict (antagonist in himself)

You must remember that madness is incurable. If someone could “cure” themselves by eating healthy, exercising and taking a few pills, it wouldn’t be much of a madness, would it? This means that the worst antagonist is going to be the character themselves, or the part of them that’s been taken away.

Show how they are frustrated with themselves, scared of themselves, angry at their “alternative self”. The experience of not knowing yourself is a whole journey of its own.

Physical Manifestations/Quirks

If your character has a routine, show how they break down.

They might develop habits that they otherwise would never allow themselves to have, perhaps as an effort to “keep this madness out”

Deteriorating Relationships

Depict how the character’s madness impacts his closed/loved ones. In the earlier stages, those close to him might be faster to notice and accept the signs of madness, even if the character denies it him/herself.

The first signs of madness might show when the character is trying to deal with difficult relationships - like losing patience and being unable to pick up subtle social clues.

Choosing Obsessions Over Primal Urges

For these characters, obsession can take over a person’s normal urge to eat, sleep or even live. This can lead to, more or less, suicide.

Example: In Black Swan, Nina’s obsession with becoming the perfect ballerina drive her to insanity, to the point where she doesn't mind dying on stage for the show.

587 notes · View notes

yuvany · 25 days ago

Text

CORPSE BRIDE ft PARK SUNGHOON

SYNOPSIS : Sunghoon finds himself in a sticky situation, yearning to return to where he came from; the land of the living and be married to the one he feels his heart beating for..

CONTENT WARNINGS : unrequited love + angst + weapons + none of these character pairing (wony and hoon) are relavant to shipping, but just a choice of characters + blood + skeletons + graveyards + kidnapping + slight body horror description + fights

ACTORS : ENHYPEN SUNGHOON x corpse bride!FEMALE READER �� side characters ; wonyoung as Victoria, Gaeul as Scraps

WORD COUNT : 4379

SUNGHOON DIDN'T MEAN TO RUN AWAY, and nor did he mean to meet you. He was simply just too nervous for the wedding his parents had set him up for. Sunghoon messed up his vows and set someone's attire on fire, but most embarrasing of all, he left his soon-to-be-bride alone and went into the woods to collect his mind and go over what he seemed to have rehearsed once too many times, but still gotten it wrong. It wasn't that Wonyoung, the girl he'd marry, was any wrong, if anything she was all everyone would want.

The dark woods where he found himself walking into was filled with tree branches sticking and poking out abnormally, and moss seeming to cover each and every stone he walked by. Slowly, he began to mutter the vows, "With this hand, I will...I will..." He gives it a second go. "With this hand I empty your cup. No that's not it." Sunghoon gets it wrong again and the crows that previously hid seemed to come alive now, causing commotion in the tree crowns while he continues to try to get his vows right, the bright moon now shining through the rustling leaves of the forest. "With this hand, I lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, I will be your wine." The sound of crows cawing becomes more insisting and demanding, encouraging Sunghoon to continue due to the new-found audience. "With this candle, I will light your way in darkness...with this ring..." He pulls out the ring from his pocket and looks at it for a second before kneeling down on one knee and propping the ring on a crooked root that extended from the ground. "...I ask you to be mine!"

The life from the forest had seemed to die in an instant, Sunghoon looks up at the quiet crows before attempting to pull the ring off the ring that had previously moved, but it manages to grab him around the wrist first. Just like that, he pulled himself free, pulling other roots along with him. While he is sprawled on the ground, he sees that the root has become a skeletal hand clamping around his wrist once more. Sunghoon exclaims in horror and shoves it away, and sees the ground in front of him split open, revealing a figure with a tattered and old wedding dress wearing his ring. "You may kiss the bride!" You cheer, but Sunghoon scrambles backwards, pushing and hitting leaves and roots while he tries to frantically escape. He makes his way through a graveyard and through the forest until he finds ease by the bridge, finally stoping to catch his breath, but when he turns around and sees you approaching him, and he is frozen in terror, letting you and the crows come close and encircle him.

The crows finally seemed to fly away and as Sunghoon looks around, all he sees are the misshapen buildings and totally different atmosphare from the last. "You were wonderful! So passionate. It was everything I dreamed of!" You exclaim giddily while a Black Widow climbs down your veil and shoots a web at Sunghoon when he takes a step back. "Now, dear, where do you think you're going?" Then an old maggot pops out of your eye, and you pop it right back in after it says, "I don't like him, he's creepy." The irony makes the situation all too hillarious, but scaring to Sunghoon who's still dizzy in the head from how sudden everything has changed.

"Oh Sunghoon! I can't wait for you to meet everyone!" You cheer excitedly. "How...how do you know my name?" He asks, hesitant, his knees quivering as he stands behind you. "You think I'd marry a stranger? Come one!" You grab him by the hand, pulling his sloppy body behind yours. You take him to the town squere while Sunghoon does his best to try to get help and get back to where he came from. He calls out, "Help! You have to help me, I've been kidnapped by . . . " before he finishes his sentence, the passer-by turns around to reveal that he is also a corspe. "...the dead." He mutters the last part unenthustiastically and recoils in horror. "He's a fresh one." Someone comments. "He's still soft." Another ones inquires, poking at Sunghoon with a stick. Everyone gathers around to observe the human.

"He's my husband. He gave me this ring!" You show it off to everyone proudly, your arm extended out and the crowd cheered and awes at the sight. Sunghoon gets overwhelmed by this, someone eagerly shakes his hand and makes a comment on how it stayed, then someone else figured put that he was breathing, fortunately, and getting close enough to hear his panting. "Oh please, leave him alone. He's only just arrived." You interrupt and turn to Sunghoon, your left eye popping out in the process and reveals the maggot from before. "We saw the whole wedding. It was romantic!" The green coloured being recalls, and from behind, the Black Widow appears again. "He reminds me of my third, seventh, twenty-fourth, and sixtythird husbands." "Before you ate them?" The maggot asks. "There was one thing missing though. He forgot to kiss the bride." Upon hearing what the maggot said, the crowd errupted in chants like highschool boys before a match in the locker rooms, and you giggle at this, hearing them chanting, "Kiss her! Kiss her!" This all still seems so surrel to Sunghoon, and he feels his eyelids shut and his knees buckle before it turns black.

Sunghoon wakes up and finds himself in some sort of pub with green flames lighting up the place, and in his field of vision, he sees skeletons leaning over him. "Have a drink dear boy." The waiter says, his head peeking through the fire and only his head is visible. He slides Sunghoon a glass before greeting you. While you mingle and spark conversations, Sunghoon waits there with wide eyes and horror as he inspects the area. He sees a band of corpses playing on some exotic instruments made of bones and scraps, and he also sees someone playing chess with a sword through his chest, and someone's jaw snaps and falls into someone else's bowl. Sunghoon feels like he's about to snap again, his knees feel restless like they want to run away and his palms are coated with glistering sweat. When no one's looking, Sunghoon finds the perfect opportunity to stand up and grabs the sword that had pierced one of the skeletons before, his sudden confidence and action caused everyone to stop what they were doing, and now they were looking at him in shock.

"Keep away! I have a ... Dwarf, and I'm not afraid to use him!! I want some questions! Now!" Sunghoon's hands are shaking and the nervousity is evident in his stance and voice. "Answers. I think you mean answers." Someone else corrects him. "Thank you, yes, answers. I need answers! Where am I? Why am I here? And who is she?!" Sunghoon calls out.

The lights suddenly dims and a spot light shines on the stage. "Since you're askin' . . . Hit it boys!" Someone on stage snapped his fingers and they began singing and dancing. After the show took a pause, Sunghoon uttered, "Pardon me, fellows, i''m going to be sick." Then they returned to singing again, and the cook hit the singer with her ladle.

The pud seemed so alive even though everyone here, excluding Sunghoon was dead. You plant a big kiss on his cheek after the song ends, leaving Sunghoon totally stunned.

You and Sunghoon were led to a table that was romantically lit by a single candle that created a comfortable atmosphare. "Dead! Demise...expired..." Sunghoon sprouted out of frustration. Then the head chef, named Paul, comes forward and speaks with a thick and clear accent. He asks if Sunghoon has any allgeriges, and he says, "Not that it matters anymore. Being that I kicked the bucket. Shuffled off this mortal coil." He says disheartened. In front of him, both you and Paul exchange awkward glances. "Young man, you are confused. You're not dead. You're just married!" Paul says, trying to cheer him up, but Sunghoon looks like he's had enough. "Very funny." "No, really. It's true." You say, and holds his hand above the candle on the table which makes him yelp out in pain. "Feel better?" You ask sincerily. Sunghoon rubs his hand and answers, "That hurt. But wait...that must mean...I'm still alive. I'm alive!" For the first time ever since he spoke his vows he seemed happy. The chef is annoyed by this, but you smile along with Sunghoon, happy that he is finally happy.

"But how can a living person marry a dead person?" He asks. "By making a vow! Which you did!" You say, smiling through it all. "But I'm already supposed to marry Wonyoung." "I'm sure she'll get over it. There's a lot of living people." You can sense how Sunghoon isn't trusting you yet.

"This Wonyoung. Did you love her?" You ask. "i never got the chance to find out. Truth is, we hardly know each other." Sunghoon sulks. "The thing is, Sunghoon, I know a lot about you. i've watched you wandering around the forest...sketching." Sunghoon perks an eyebrow at this and asks, "What? when?" "Haven't you ever felt like you weren't alone, even when you were? Or saw something out of the corner of your eye and turned and it wasn't there?" you ask and he nods. "It was me" You see how he finally relaxes and is deeply moved by this for some reason.

"We live in two different worlds, but they overlap sometimes. I think we're meant to find each other." You say. "i don't even know your name." he argues, his eyebrows are visibly knitted together as his eyes wander all over the place. "I can't believe I forgot to tell you my name...in all this excitement. My name is y/n." "I also have a little wedding gift for you." You whispered through your bony fingers and out comes a skeleton dog that rushes over to the table with its tail wagging happily. "Gaeul! My dog!" Sunghoon cheers after reading the name tag, happy to see her after a long time of being separated. Gaeul jumps up on his lap and licks him on the face. "I knew you'd be happy to see her." As you say that, the dog jumps up on the table and causes a ruckus that mkaes even the cook from earlier to interupt. "Who let that horried beast in here?" the cook exclaims in horror, her laddle waving at the dog. "He came in with the dog." Paul, the waiter, from before remarks, his eyes finding Sunghoon's. "I'm afraid he is mine. I mean was. Gaeul was my dog when I was a little boy." "Keep him out of my kitchen! Who knows where he's been." The cook cuts him off while he reminisce. The small canine friend jumps onto his lap happily while she barks.

"What a cutie." You say. "You should've seen her with fur." Sunghoon replied, while petting Gaeul. "Mother never approved of her jumping up like this. But yet again, she never approved of anything." Sunghoon sulks at the memory. "Do you think she'd approve of me?" You ask curiously. Sunghoon mocks a light of happiness and tells you, "Well, actually...now that you mentioned it, I think she would. Yes!I do believe she would. In fact, since we're m...married...you should meet her! And my father too. You should meet both my parents!" he awaits your reaction nervously. "What a fantastic idea! Let's go find them. Where are they buried?" You ask enthustiastically. "Oh, there's one slight problem..." Sunghoon whispers. "What is it?" "They're not from around here." You ask him where they are, and Sunghoon points his finger up indicating that they are still alive and breathing.

You take him to an elderly who helped creating a potion that took him and you back to the living world. You both pop up in a cementray in the night while it all had become gray again. You take a moment to yourself, missing the moonlight, so you dance under the trees, catching his full attention as your dress resembled smoke. You took a deep breath in and asked him which house was his. Sunghoon takes a moment and points to one on the right, which isn't his own home, but Wonyoung's. "Why don't I go first to prepare things?" He lies, and you trust him. After Sunghoon had ran away in the dark, the maggot and black widow appears again. Complementing her by how immensly trusting she is, but with a backhanded meaning to their words.

You now think about the situation. Sunghoon is here, in the living world, where he had mentioned a girl he was suppose to marry. With determination, you followed the path Sunghoon had previously taken. You climb up the balcony, hearing voices. "Sunghoon, what's wrong?" You hear a young female voice ask. "I seem to have found myself married. And you should know it is unexpected." He replies hesitantly. You push yousefl up at last, accidentally detaching your leg in the process. "Oh dear, and I did so want to make a good impression! I couldn't wait, darling. I wanted to meet …" Your tone sounded cherry at the start but gradually lost its light after looking up post fixing your leg. You see Wonyoung standing in front of you. Upon seeing this, you wrap one of your arms around Sunghoon's.

"Darling. Who is this?" You sneer at her. "Sunghoon! Who...What is this?" Wonyoung says horrified when she sees the ring on your finger. Sunghoon's head turns to you then Wonyoung once too many times. "Wonyoung, wait you don't understand! I can assure you it is not what you think- She's dead! Look!" He takes your boney arm and flaps it back and forth causing Wonyoung to scream. "Who is she?" You ask. "Yang Wonyoung. The girl I'm supposed to marry." Sunghoon admits. Suddenly the sound of loud banging is heard from through the door and muffled voices are heard yelling.

"You tricked me!" You say aggravated and grab his tightly, saying the word that the elder had told you to say if you wanted to return back to where you came from. Sunghoon panicks and yells for Wonyoung to save him.

"YOU LIED TO ME! Just to get back to that other woman!" You shout, your eyebrows knitted with anger. "Don't you understand. You are the other woman." Sunghoon says saddened, causing your heart to shatter. "No! You're married to me! She's the other woman!" Your hectic movements came to a halt as you wrapped your face with your bont hands and began to cry, Sunghoon is unsure of what to do and stands there awkwardly. The force of yoru tears makes your eye escape the socket, and with no other choice, Sunghoon picks it up and hands it to you again. "Look, I'm sorry....this just can't work." Sunghoon points out the elephant in the room that wasn't that obvious to you. "Why not? It's my eye isn't it?" You ask while putting it back in. "No...your eye is fine." "Really?" Your mood elevated and now you were looking at him lovetsruck again.

"Yes. Listen under different circumstances, well, who knows. But, we are just too different. I mean you're dead." He accentuates. "You should've thought about that before you asked me to marry you." You pout. "Why can't you understand? I'd never marry you!" The words struck you through the chest as if leavening a stinging sensation blooming in your chest. The words were sharp and they hurt you in ways you didn't expect Sunghoon to do. Instead of lashing out at him, you just hang your head down and turn around to walk out the elder's study, leaving Sunghoon feeling like sore thumb.

As you walk away with your head hung low, you pick up your old and dried wedding bouquet and name a couple of flowers, your sadness represented in your tone. Sunghoon can do nothing but watch as you walk away. Your two companions, the Black Window and Maggot are perched on your shoulders like birds as they tell you that Sunghoon isn't someone worth your precious mind and tears, in hopes to cheer you up.

Sunghoon walks up to you in the restaurant with the bouqet in hand, his steps are cautious in the still envirounment. "I think you dropped this..." He whispers, approaching closer and closer to you who is playing with the piano. You don't need to spare him or the flowers a glance before snatching them. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lied to you about wanting to meet my parents. Truth is, I'm happier not to see them." he apologises, but you don't turn around nor acknowledge his attendance. The green maggot pops out once more. "Oh! Save it for the living girls, Hoon. I think you've said quite enough already." He comments.

"I never meant to-" Sunghoon gets cut off by the Black Widow appearing once again. "I've had dozens of husbands, none as awful as you. You should be ashamed!" She snarls, her legs waving hysrerically, pointing to him. "But I..." The Maggot is not early to cut him off again and says, "You're married now and there's nothing anyone can do about it. You might as well get used to it." It sounds harsh, but deep down, Sunghoon knows and understands where it's coming from.

"Don't bother, you can't force him to like me." You sulk, your back hunched. "But I do like you. Truly. It's just this evening hasn't exactly been going accoding to...plan." Sunghoon says awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. It is quiet for a while, so quiet that you'd hear a pin drop.

Sunghoon takes a seat on the chair beside you and begings playing on the piano with you. You paus and sneer at him before continuing. It continues like that, Sunghoon improvising and turning this to a duet. The melody is bitterweet yet loving, a tune for only the two of you. Gradually, you open up more, taking the spotlight for a riff, your hand popping off from your wrist and slides across the keys. You pick it up with a giggle. "Pardon my enthusiasm." "I like your enthusiasm."

IN THE VILLAGE SQUERE, spirits and skeletons are gathered with newfound energy to party. Sunghoon looks at the tear of his jacket, and before he can stare at it any longer, Black Widow appears and sews it up again, making it seem like a new jack. All the commotion is interupted by a 'newcomer'. Everyone is eager to see who it is, and Sunghoon almost immedietly calls out for the familiar figure. After chit-chatting with him, Sunghoon learns that Wonyoung is to be married with none other than Heeseung, one of the closest people to his family. Not too far away, you observe his reaction with your eyebrows knitted.

The decorations are set and everyone is cheering and celebrating. You happened to find an elder and speaks with him for a while about marriages. He tells you how it was back in his days when vows where simple and got done with rather quickly after you mentioned how quick yours and Victors were. "Lucky for me, I didn't have to! I was rather silent!" You joke, and when you look at him again, he is dead silent, not moving at all. "Excuse me?" He asks. "I was rather silent?" You repeat, now a lot more hesitant and unsure. "You didn't say your vows?" You shake your head. "My child, you muct both say the vows for the marriage to be binding." The air is still as you stare at each other. You had accidenatlly tricked Sunghoon this whole time, and now you were afraid he'd know about this and run away.

"Surely there's some way to fix this?" You're desperate to get an answer now. "You'll have to complete the cermony by saying your vows." "I'll say them right now!" Your breath is caught in your air way as you choke this out only for the elder to shake his head. He tells you that since the original cermony occured in the land of the living, your vows will need to be in the land of the living as well. Your bones are shaking and you can't bear to hear someone else tell you to be 'reasonable'. If you want to go to the living world, then so be it, but you don't want him to tell you that maybe the two of you weren't meant to be. You wanted to cry out of anger, it was as if nothing you ever desired would land in your arms easily. You have had enough of this.

"Listen up people! Listen up! There's a change of venue! Grab what you can and follow me! We're moving this party." Everyone cheers in excitement, but the elder has a look of concern on his face. While on the way, people rocket quesntions your way, and you ramble out an answer in an instant, not wanting to seem suspicious to Sunghoon in any way.

IN THE WORLD OF THE LIVING You and Sunghoon are close like a set. It is all well and the elder flips through a book as you and Sunghoon joing him for the ceremony. "Let's get straight to the vows. Living first." He bows to Sunghoon. You slip the ring off your finger and place it in his palm, he smiles at you, and you smile back, but there's a piece of guilt in your heart. After he finishes his vows, putting the ring back on your finger, the elder motions for you to say your vows. You take a deep breath in and began to speak, but half-way through you spot a familiar face hiding in the courner of the place, horror written on her face, it was Wonyoung.

"I can't" You pause. "What's wrong?" Sunghoon asks confused. "This is wrong." You let a tear roll down your cold cheek. Once again, you pull the ring off your finger. As you look at him you recall the desperate moments you shared with Sunghoon, it was embarrasing to think that this could be; the living and the dead. It all added up likes puzzle pieces and you were finally ready to accept the truth that stung so badly, leaving a permanent scar deep, deep within the old ones that are yet to heal.

"I LOVE YOU, Sunghoon, but you're not mine. My dreams were stolen from me, and now I've taken them from someone else." You look over at where you had seen the young lady, Wonyoung, before, and Sunghoon does so too. "Wonyoung!" he whispers to himself at the sight. Upon being the new centre of attention, you ask Wonyoung to come forward, and she does. You take her hand in yours, and asks Sunghoon for his as well. You gently place his on top of her hers, happy for them to finally be reunited. "Oh, how touching. I always cry at weddings." Another familiar voice calls out, and everyone looks over at the gate to reveal Heeseung causing the trio to gasp. "Our young lovers together at least. Surely now they can live happily ever after." He walks upp to the altar and grabs Wonyoung by the wirst, succesfully snatching her away from you two.

"you." you whisper, your pupils shrinking at the horrid sight. "y/n?" He echoes, equally as shocked. "You!" you repeat angered. "but-but, I left you" He stutters, and you finish his sentence, "for dead." This statement causes everyone in the crowd to gasp. Heeseung does his best to escape, even pulling a sword from someone's body only to first aim it at Wonyoung's throat and then at Sunghoon who challenge him to a duel. It is an intense chase of cat and mouse before Sunghoon gets knocked down on the floor, the sword aimed at his face. Heeseung doesn't hesitate to strike his sword at him, and you don't hesitate either to come in between, grebbing the sword that had stuck in between your ribs. You pulled it out and aimed it at him.

"get out." you ordered him. "Oh, I'm leaving." he says, walking up to the altar and grabbing a cup from the table all whilst you're still on guard. "But first, a toast to y/n!" he says raising his cup with red liquid. "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Tell me, my dear, can a heart still break once it stopped beating? hmm?" His words are harsh, leaving yet another scar. You silenly watch as he takes a gulp of the cup which he thinks is wine, but is actually poision, and he dies just before he manages to get out of the building.

While the rest of the corpses takes care of the now dead Heeseung, Sunghoon and Wonyoung are snuggled together. "I never thought I'd see you again." You walk away, not wanting to disturb their moment until you hear the male voice call out for you to wait. "I made a promise." He says, chasing behind you. "you kept your promise. you set me free. Now, I can do the same for you." You say one last time, pulling the ring off your finger and encaving it in his palm by clasping yours around his before turning around. The tears are eager to escape, but you wont let them, not now at least. With one last glace behind, your throw the bouquet in your grasp to the newly made couple with a smile before you stepped out in the bright moonlight. The second it hits your veil, it began to crumble and turn into small butterlies and just like that, you disappeared with no regrets.

TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa @pshwrldd

375 notes · View notes

joelmillerisapunk · 6 months ago

Text

I'm down bad, fuck it if I can't have him.

Dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 4,425

Summary: In the intimate confines of Joel's home, you navigate the complexities of an open relationship, discovering the liberating power of vulnerability and desire under the watchful eye of his wife.

Warnings: 18+, reader has no physical description, Joel is married and in an open/freeuse marriage and they are also pretty much just nudists, voyerisum, exhibitionism, choking, unprotected p in v, female oral receiving, fingering, age gap, light "daddy" kink, Joel's very respectful of reader. He just wants you to be open with your sensuality. This is not a threesome fic, and Joel's wife (who remains nameless) shows up once or twice. 100% consensual from every party involved. I know these kinks may not read well for everyone, so if you're feeling uneasy about any of these warnings, please scroll awaaaaay awaaaaay. The open nature of Joel's marriage begins right from the start, so proceed with horny caution. There's no adjustment period. Everything's consensual when you're part of a team!

Notes: I learned a new word today, and it made me end up doubling the wordcount. Ty @saradika-graphics for the divider. I hope you enjoy! Your comments and thots are so welcome.

You stand under the warm water, letting it wash away the stress of the day. You'd been staying with your dad's buddy Joel and his wife for a few days now. It was still taking some getting used to. Their open relationship, the free use, the amount of nudity that was on constant display, it was all so different from what you were used to. But they'd been so welcoming, so kind, and you were starting to feel more and more at home.

Suddenly your thoughts are interrupted and you hear the shower door open, and Joel stepping in behind you.

You feel a flutter in your chest, but you try to push it away. This isn't the first time one of them has walked in while you were showering, but it's the first time one of them has come in with you. You're still getting used to this, to the idea that Joel and his wife were okay with any of this. You can't help feeling like his wife is going to walk in at any minute and kill you for being in a shower, naked, with her husband.

"Hey, darlin," Joel says with a gentle voice. "You okay? You seem a little down today."

You shrug, trying to play it off. "I'm fine, Mr.Miller. Just a little overwhelmed, I guess."

"Call me Joel, please. I get it. It's a lot to take in. But we want you to feel comfortable here, to feel like you can be yourself. And if that means joining us, then we're more than happy to have you."

You feel a heat rise to your cheeks as he gently turns you to face him so his eyes can meet yours. You can see the offer in his eyes, the gentle invitation to explore with him. You feel a spark of curiosity, of desire, and you’re tempted. You're also tempted to look down, god knows you want to see everything he has to offer you but you manage to keep your gaze anywhere else.

You turn back around and just as you're about to grab the body wash to distract your mind Joel steps closer, and reaches for the soap. "Let me help ya darlin.” You feel a shiver run down your spine as Joel's hand touches yours to grab the bottle. He begins to soap up your arms and chest but pauses just before his hands graze the sides of your breasts. "This okay?"

You nod, and your breath hitches slightly as you give your silent consent. His hands continue, moving with careful precision. As you surrender to the pleasure of Joel's touch, you become acutely aware of the heat radiating from his body, the closeness of his bare skin against yours. You feel his cock, hard and insistent, pressing against the small of your back, it slides between your legs with an ease that speaks of familiarity, the thick shaft glides against your sensitive folds, eliciting a shiver that you hope goes unnoticed.

Despite the initial shock, there's an undeniable thrill that courses through you at the feel of him, so bold and unashamed. You can't help but arch your back ever so slightly, pressing back against him, your body betrays your curiosity and the growing ache between your legs. The moan that escapes your lips is soft, but you know he hears it, he knows the effect he's having on you.

Joel's hands still for a moment, and you tense, worried that you've crossed a line. But then he's moving again, his touch resuming its soothing rhythm, as if the brief interlude never happened. His cock remains hard, a steady presence against your skin, but he makes no move to act on the desire that's so clearly evident.

"You're so tense baby," Joel observes as his hands move to your shoulders, kneading the tight muscles there.

You can't help but let out another soft moan as his fingers dig into your skin. The stress of the day feels like it instantly melts away under his touch. "Mmm, that feels so good," you admit and let your eyes flutter closed.

"I'm glad, why don't we take this to your room? I can give you a proper massage, help you unwind completely."

“I'd like that,” you reply shyly. The idea of a massage sounds heavenly, and the thought of being alone with Joel in the privacy of your room is exciting.

After rinsing off under the warm water, you emerge from the shower enveloped in a cloud of steam, and your skin is hot and tingling. Beside you, Joel steps out with the self-assured swagger of a man who knows his body is a masterpiece. He briskly towels himself off, each movement causing his muscles to ripple and flex beneath his sun-kissed skin. The towel is quickly discarded, landing in a heap on the floor, as if it were an afterthought—a mere inconvenience.

You can't help but drink in the sight of him; he is raw masculinity personified. His chest is a broad expanse of firm muscle, dusted with just the right amount of coarse greying hair that begs for your fingertips to explore its texture. Every part of him exudes an animalistic grace. There's an undeniable allure to the way he carries himself—completely unashamed and utterly comfortable in his own skin. It's as if he's silently inviting you to admire him, to appreciate every inch of this man who moves with such potent virility.

Joel's hand quickly finds the small of your back as he guides you to your room. Once inside, he instructs you to remove your towel and lie down on the bed, face down. You comply, the soft sheets feel cool against your still-damp skin. You hear the gentle click of a bottle, and then the scent of lavender fills the air as he warms some massage oil between his hands.

His hands are firm yet gentle as they glide over your skin, starting at your shoulders and working their way down your back. Each stroke sends waves of relaxation through you, and you can feel the tension leaving your body.

"Just let go, darlin'," Joel murmurs, his voice is a soothing balm. "You're safe here with me."

You let out a soft sigh, allowing yourself to surrender even more to the feeling of being cared for.

As Joel's fingers deftly knead the muscles along your spine, you find yourself sinking deeper into a state of complete relaxation. His touch is professional yet intimate. He moves down to your lower back and his thumbs press into the flesh just above your ass, eliciting a soft gasp from you. The sensation is intense, but not in a way that makes you uncomfortable. Instead, it's a pleasant mixture of relief and arousal that you haven't felt before. "You're doin great, darlin'," Joel encourages.

Eventually, his hands glide over the skin of your thighs, applying just the right amount of pressure to release the tension in your muscles. You can't help but feel a warmth pooling between your legs from his hands.

The massage seems to go on forever, and when he finally finishes, you feel boneless, completely spent in the most wonderful way.

"How are you feelin?" Joel asks.

"Amazing, thank you, Joel."

"Anytime, darlin'. You know where to find me if you need anything else." He smiles and winks as he leaves.

You nod, watching as he stands and leaves the room, closing the door softly behind him. You lie there for a while, basking in the afterglow of the massage, your body still tingling from his touch.

—

Later that evening, you find yourself in the living room where Joel is sitting on the couch, engrossed in the work on his laptop. You take a seat next to him, your eyes inadvertently drawn to the sight of his cock resting casually against his thigh. You can't help but stare, your curiosity piqued by the freedom with which he and his wife move about the house.

Joel notices your gaze and chuckles softly. "You can touch it." He says with a gentle and non-judgmental tone. “S’okay, baby. Don't be shy."

You feel a heat creeping up your cheeks, the offer is too tempting to pass up. Tentatively, you reach out and place your hand on his shaft, feeling it twitch in response to your touch. It's a strange sensation, both powerful and vulnerable at the same time.

"That's it, darlin, explore all you want. We're all about discovery here."

With Joel's encouragement, you begin to explore the contours of his cock and your hand begins to move with growing confidence. The skin is soft and warm, and you're fascinated by the way it responds to your touch. You've never done anything like this before, but there's something exhilarating about this newfound freedom.

Joel puts his laptop down and moans as his eyes close, and he leans his head back against the couch. "Just like that."

Your grip tightens slightly as your hand moves up and down his shaft. You watch in awe as his cock hardens, the transformation is absolutely delicious, as is the sound of his soft moans.

"Does this feel good?" you ask. You're genuinely curious, eager to learn and to please him.

“Mmm - feels a little too good baby," Joel gasps, his hand reaching out to still your own. "If you keep that up, I ain't gonna last much longer."

You pause, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Is that a bad thing?" you ask, your voice laced with genuine curiosity.

Joel chuckles. "No, it ain’t bad. But I want to make sure you're enjoying this as much as I am. This is about you and your pleasure, too.”

As the words leave his mouth you feel a thrill of excitement at the thought of Joel focusing on your pleasure, a concept that feels new and thrilling to you.

"If you're comfortable I'd like you to let go of your inhibitions and lie back for me," Joel's voice is a soft, inviting caress and his eyes are filled with a warmth that makes you feel safe and cherished. You comply, reclining against the plush cushions of the couch.

"Let me show you just how beautiful you are.” He says as he helps you remove your clothing. You feel the cool air of the room against your skin as you shed the last of your outfit. Joel's eyes roam over you and a look of appreciation lights up his features. He kneels before you, a picture of restraint and desire, his eyes never leave yours. "I want to explore the beauty of your body, to learn the language of your pleasure.” With the utmost care, he parts your legs, his touch is gentle. You can't help but squirm under it, your body instinctively seeking more.

"Relax, baby, let me take care of you, let me take you to a place where only pleasure exists, where you're free to express every gasp, every moan, and every shudder of delight." As the last word leaves his mouth his fingers find the heart of your need, his touch both a revelation and a homecoming. You're lost in a sea of sensation, each stroke, each caress, drawing you deeper into a world of ecstasy. And just as you're starting to lose yourself in the sensations, the sound of the front door opening sends a jolt of panic through you. Your eyes fly open, meeting Joel's calm gaze.

"S’okay, just relax baby," he reassures you, his voice steady despite the interruption. You hear the familiar sound of his wifes heels clicking against the hardwood floor, and then she's standing beside you, leaning on the couch, her eyes widening slightly at the sight before her. You feel a surge of embarrassment as your body tenses under Joel's touch. But Joel doesn't miss a beat. His fingers continue their gentle ministrations, his gaze never leaves yours. "S’okay," he repeats, "We're all safe here."

"Don't let me interrupt," she says, her tone light and playful. "I just wanted to let you know that the Johnsons invited us over for a little get-together tonight. But it looks like you're busy."

Joel chuckles, his fingers still working between your legs. "We can catch up with the Johnsons another time, honey. I'll be a little preoccupied tonight." Joel winks at you.

His wife laughs, the sound warm and genuine. "I can see that. Have fun, you two. I'll be around if you need me."

As she leaves you in the capable, caring hands of Joel, you find yourself sinking deeper into the couch, into the moment, into the expert ministrations of a man who has made it his mission to bring you to the heights of pleasure.

"Let yourself fall, darlin'. I'll be right here to catch you.”

His words wash over you, a gentle command that you find yourself eager to obey. You close your eyes, focusing solely on the sensations that are building within you. The world around you fades away, leaving only the feeling of Joel's touch and the sound of his voice.

"Tell me what you want, baby, wanna hear you say it."

The words feel foreign on your tongue, but there's a part of you that wants to voice your desires, to communicate your needs. "I - I want you to..." you trail off.

"It's okay, darlin'," Joel reassures you, his fingers stilling for a moment. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Just close your eyes and say the first thing that comes to mind."

You do as he asks, your eyes fluttering closed as you let your mind wander, your fantasies taking shape in the darkness behind your eyelids. "I want to feel you inside me," you admit.

"Look at me, darlin'," Joel commands, and you open your eyes, meeting his intense gaze. "You're so brave and so beautiful. I'm gonna make you feel so good, you'll forget everything except the feeling of me inside you.” He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless. "C'mon let's go to my room," he suggests.

He helps you to your feet, and you follow him down the hallway to the master bedroom. The door is slightly ajar, and as you step inside, you see Joel's wife again lounging on the bed. This woman is everywhere.

"You sure like this one, huh?" she teases Joel.

Joel looks at her with a wicked grin on his face. "She's somethin special, ain't she? Wanna join, or you just gonna watch?"

His wife smirks and takes a sip of the wine she left on the nightstand. "Oh, I think I'll just watch for now," she says, making herself comfortable on a nearby chair. "I won't stay long, just finishing my glass." She holds up her wine.

Joel turns back to you, his hands gently caressing your body as he helps you onto the bed and positions himself between your legs. "You ready for me, darlin'?"

“Yes, please.” With a voice barely above a whisper, you respond, your eyes locked onto Joel's. "Need to feel you inside me, need you to make me whole."

The raw desire in your voice seems to ignite something primal in Joel. His eyes darken with lust, and he lets out a low growl of approval. "Fuck, darlin', you're going to be the death of me.”

As he positions himself at your entrance, you feel the head of his cock pressing against you and the anticipation building with each passing second. With a slow, deliberate thrust, he enters you, filling you completely. The sensation is intense, a mix of pleasure and a slight sting as your body stretches to accommodate him.

"Look at how well she takes me," Joel says to his wife. His eyes never leave yours, and you can see the effort it takes for him to maintain control, to not give in to the primal urge to thrust hard and fast.

His wife watches with rapt attention, her eyes dark with desire as she takes in the sight of her husband buried deep inside you. "She's incredible, Joel. You look so good together.” His wife watches for a few moments more, her gaze seems to be filled with a mixture of arousal and satisfaction. She seems to enjoy the dynamic unfolding before her, the way her husband is so attentive and giving, and the way you respond to his touch with such genuine enthusiasm. "You two are quite the sight," she comments. "I'll leave you to it. I can see you're in good hands." With a knowing smile, she rises from her chair and walks over to the bed. She leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, then to Joel's lips. "Enjoy yourselves," she whispers

As she exits the room, closing the door softly behind her, you feel a sense of relief wash over you. While her presence was intriguing and added an extra layer of excitement, there's something incredibly intimate about being alone with Joel, about having his full attention focused solely on you and with his wife gone, Joel seems to let go of some invisible restraint. His movements become more urgent, his hands exploring your body with a newfound intensity. He kisses you deeply, his tongue dancing with yours.

"You're so fucking perfect," he murmurs against your lips, his voice filled with awe and desire. "Could stay inside you forever.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him. Joel reaches between your bodies, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at your core. He circles it with his thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to send you spiralling towards an orgasm. "Come for me, darlin'," he commands, his voice a low growl in your ear. "Let me feel you squeeze my cock.”

The tension within you builds to an almost unbearable peak. The sensation is overwhelming, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to engulf you at any moment. You try to hold back, to savor the feeling, but it's a losing battle. With a cry that surprises even you, your body convulses as the orgasm floods through you, your muscles rhythmically clench around Joel's cock and in the throes of your climax, the words slip out before you can stop them, "yes, Daddy, yes!" you gasp, the term of endearment falling from your lips in a moment of pure vulnerability.

As the waves of pleasure begin to subside, you realize what you've said. A heat creeps up your cheeks, and you bury your face in Joel's shoulder, mortified by your slip-up. But when you dare to glance up at him, you're met with a smirk of pure satisfaction.

"You like that, baby?" he asks, “want me to be your Daddy?"

You nod shyly, too caught up in the afterglow of your orgasm to form words.

"Say it again," Joel commands softly. "Tell me who I am."

Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you meet his gaze and whisper, "Daddy."

A growl of approval rumbles deep in Joel's chest as he leans down to kiss you again. With the taste of your shared passion still lingering on his lips, Joel pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he speaks. "You're doin so good, takin me so deep," he praises,

"Tell me what you want, baby. What do you need from Daddy?"

The words come to you in a rush, born of a deep, unspoken desire that you've only just begun to explore. "Want you to choke me daddy," you whisper, the request barely audible even to your own ears. But Joel hears you, and the smoldering look of approval in his eyes is all the confirmation you need.

“Mmmm, such a good girl," Joel murmurs while his hand moves to the nape of your neck. His fingers tangle gently in your hair, exerting just enough pressure to tilt your head back, exposing the delicate column of your throat to his hungry gaze. "You want daddy to own this pretty little throat?"

You nod, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you anticipate the feeling of his hand around your neck. The vulnerability of the position and the trust it requires, only serves to heighten your arousal. With a gentleness Joel applies pressure to your throat, his fingers wrapping around it just tightly enough to make you acutely aware of his dominance over you. The sensation is intoxicating, a heady mix of fear and excitement that sends a fresh wave of wetness flooding between your legs.

“Doin’ so good for me baby.”

As Joel's hand tightens around your throat, your heart pounds in your chest, the rhythm echoing in your ears. The world around you blurs, narrowing down to the feeling of his body pressed against yours, the weight of his hand on your neck, and the intensity of his gaze holding yours.

"That's it, darlin', Let Daddy take care of you."

You focus on the sound of his voice, allowing it to guide you through the haze of pleasure and fear. With each breath you take under his command, a sense of calm washes over you, a trust so profound that it borders on euphoria.

Joel's thrusts become more insistent now, his hips driving into you with an urgency that speaks of his own rising pleasure. The hand around your throat loosens slightly, allowing you to draw in a deep breath before he tightens his grip once more. The cycle of restriction and release becomes a primal rhythm that resonates deep within your core.

"You're so fucking beautiful like this.” His eyes dark with lust as he watches you surrender to him completely. "Such a good girl for Daddy."

The praise washes over you like a benediction, filling you with warmth and satisfaction. You feel yourself opening up even more to him, your body yielding to his every demand without hesitation or reserve.

With his free hand, Joel reaches down between your legs once more, his fingers finding that sensitive bud with practiced ease. He begins to circle it again, applying just the right amount of pressure to send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins. The combination of sensations – the tightness in your throat, the fullness in your core, and the relentless stimulation at your center – is almost too much. But there's no escape from this exquisite torment; all you can do is hold on and ride out the storm that's building inside you once again .

"Come for me one more time," Joel commands, “show daddy how much you like this baby.”

The world around you fades to a distant hum as Joel's fingers continue their mission, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. The pressure in your core builds to a crescendo.

"Look at me darlin'," Joel encourages, "Look at daddy when you come."

With a strangled cry, you surrender to the waves of ecstasy crashing over you. Your body convulses, muscles clenching and releasing as you ride out the intensity of your orgasm. The sensation of Joel's cock, still hard and buried deep inside you, prolongs the pleasure, each pulse of your inner walls milking him, urging him towards his own release.

As the last ripples of your climax subside, Joel loosens his grip on your throat, allowing you to breathe deeply, the rush of oxygen to your brain heightens the aftershocks of pleasure that continue to ripple through you. He withdraws from you, the absence of his cock leaving you feeling momentarily empty, but the look in his eyes promises more to come.

"You did so good, baby," Joel praises. "Now, daddy's got a special treat for you."

He guides you to sit up on the edge of the bed, his hands on your shoulders to steady you. His cock, glistening with your shared arousal, stands proudly before you.

"You want to make daddy feel good, don'tcha?" Joel asks.

You nod, your eyes locked on his shaft, you lean forward and tentatively lick the tip of his cock. The salty-sweet taste of him on your tongue is intoxicating, and you find yourself eager for more. You part your lips and take him into your mouth, your hands reach up to stroke the base of his shaft as you begin to suck and lick him with growing confidence.

"Fuck, baby," Joel groans, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair, guiding your movements but not forcing you. "Just like that. Suck on daddy's cock."

You look up at him as you bob your head up and down, taking him as deep as you can. The feeling of his girthy cock hitting the back of your throat is both a challenge and a turn-on, and you find yourself wanting to take him even deeper, to please him in every way possible.

Sensing your eagerness, Joel's grip on your hair tightens, and he begins to thrust into your mouth gently, setting a rhythm that you eagerly follow. The hand that was stroking his shaft moves to cup his balls, massaging them gently as you continue to suck him off.

"Goddamn your fucking good at this," Joel praises, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Daddy's gettin real close. Ready for your treat?"

You nod, your eyes watering slightly as he increases the pace of his thrusts. The feeling of his cock swelling in your mouth, the salty taste of his pre-come on your tongue, are all signs that he's close. With a final, guttural groan, Joel's body tenses, and he floods your mouth with his hot, sticky come. You swallow reflexively, the taste of him mingling with the taste of your own arousal still lingers on your lips.

As the last few spurts of his orgasm subside, Joel gently pulls out of your mouth, his hand still tangled in your hair. He uses his thumb to wipe a stray drop of come from the corner of your mouth, then leans down to kiss you. "You're incredible, baby," he says against your lips "Thank you for trusting me.” Joel's hand gently cups your chin, his fingers tracing the contours of your jaw as he tilts your head back to meet his gaze. "So does this mean daddy can have you whenever he needs?" Joel asks, the question hangs in the air between you, an invitation to explore the boundaries of your relationship, to embrace the free-use dynamic that defines his marriage with his wife.

You find yourself nodding before you've even fully processed the implications of your agreement. The thought of being available for Joel's pleasure at any moment is both daunting and exhilarating. It's a level of submission that you've never experienced before, but with Joel, it feels right. It feels safe. "Yes, Daddy can use me whenever he needs." You wink at him.

A slow smile spreads across Joel's face, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I want you to know that this isn't just about sex for me," Joel says earnestly. "This is about trust and respect and mutual satisfaction." He reaches out to stroke your cheek gently with the back of his hand before continuing. "You mean more to me than just another body in my bed. You're not just a desire, you're a need," he whispers into your hair, "and I intend to cherish that, every single day.”

With those words, Joel pulls you into a tender embrace. In his arms, you feel cherished, empowered, and ready to embrace the newfound freedom and pleasure that await you in this unconventional sanctuary.

Special @milla-frenchy taglist 😘

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfiction

698 notes · View notes

nanamis-bigtie · 2 months ago

Text

don't close your eyes

↬ yuji x afab!reader | lucid love ↬ lucid love masterlist // jjk masterlist // ao3 version

cw: smut, reader has a vagina (no excessive body descriptions), aged-up character, piv sex, mating press, messy sex (lots of drool descriptions), yuji has a big dick, bottom reader summary: after weeks of dating you're finally having the first sex with your boyfriend word count: 1.8k a/n: thank you for your patience - and for positive reception of lucid love event ❤ please, look out for next voting soon! tag list: @thesacredfanfics

Yuji's embrace beams with warmth and safety.

Even now, shed off your shirts and melting into each other, making out on his mattress, you feel spoiled just from their touch, from the tight and surprisingly soft loop wrapped around your back. The heat is building up slowly, simmering in your abdomen and lazy, steadily crawling into the furthest crevices of your body, up to your lips where you're sharing it with him. There's esurience but no hurry; you're tasting each other with patience of hours to come, hidden in meticulously build cocoon so close to the surrounding world yet—as isolated as you only can in his room, thin wall separating you from his roommates frolicking in the shared living area, long-forgotten movie still playing on laptop, abandoned on the make-shift table made of books.

You move your hands from his broad back to his chest and Yuji groans into your mouth when you squeeze a handful of his pecs. They're so big and soft yet, whenever a pleasant spasm runs through his body, you feel power flexing in them right under your curious fingertips. For a try, you sink your nails into his skin, not hard, just enough to leave crested-shaped lines. You're squeezed tighter in response, for the first time today, for the first time ever. The ever-loving touch of your boyfriend—the same arms that cradled you in moments of stress, that carried you bridal-style when you sprained an ankle, that adored you with the softest, the warmest puppy love—finally dares to show lustful fangs. He pulls you into him, flush against his muscular torso, one hand slipping down to your ass and guiding you to take a better seat.

Hard, pulsing bulge, perfectly palpable in the confines of gray sweatpants, presses right at your core and sends a different, hotter shudder across your body.

You mumble his name with a ragged breath, finally breaking the kiss that lasted for what feels like hours. Yuji pulls away just enough to look at you, a string of saliva still connecting you two, his face flushed, and pupils dilated under barely open lids. His lips are dark red and swollen, drool shamelessly pooling at their corners; it takes everything from you to not immediately lean for more, even with your lungs in desperate need of fresh air.

"You okay with this?" He asks once he finally finds words, his voice strained and shaking nevertheless.

It's the last call before the gate closes and irrevocably leads you to another step of your relationship. You're not each other's firsts but you've been taking your time as if you were, Yuji always making sure you're feeling comfortable with every new milestone and leading you there with a strong, yet gentle arm wrapped around your waist. You've never felt so loved and adored before, with the passion and submissiveness of a guarding dog, surrounded with his warmth until you've grown addicted, unable to think of any other flame than his.

No, no one else could need you like this. No one else could make you squeeze your thighs around them so desperately, afraid he may slip out of your reach once you stop.

You still loosen the hold, giving him place to act upon your agreement. "More than okay."

There's suddenly more of his tongue, more of his raw power nearly crushing you with the last kiss, finally revealing what Yuji is capable of once let loose off the leash. He knocks air out of you, in no time has you mewling under him as he picks you up with ease and changes position, pressing you to the mattress now. Treated like a flower for weeks, you've almost forgotten he's a beast, and you're no better than dust in comparison to his strength. If only he wanted, he could tear what you're still wearing off you, but he's busy devouring you, wet and hot lips skimming down your neck, nipping at your chest, sucking your perked with pleasure nipples. He leaves a trail of saliva behind, truly like a dog, and there's only more with each passing second. He tries to leave hickeys, doesn't have enough patience, just licks you instead, sipping your scent straight from your skin and groaning in pleasure whenever you spasm for him.

He finally stills at your navel, whimpers as he pulls away, his face flushed and messy with his own drool. There's genuine pain in his eyes when he has to abandon you, even if just for a minute; he trips on his way to his backpack as he can't peel them off your figure.

You lose no time, already pulling your shorts and underwear down to your ankles. Time spent on intense make out pays off, you're wet and leaking, ready to take him without much prep despite his size you've already got to feel with your hand. Lifted on elbows to see him better, you kick clothes off the mattress and spread your legs for him, ready and impatient.

Yuji turns straight into the perfect view, a box with condoms slips out of his hand at the sight, but he catches it mid-air. For a moment he fumbles around, not sure if he should put it away first or just drop his pants instead, finally decides on the latter and almost trips when trying to kick them off. His hard cock springs out of his boxers a moment later; it's fat and leaking and throbbing in anticipation: a treat that has you licking your lips.

With hands shaking, Yuji tries to slide a condom on, fails time after time, desperation, let loose after the patient hunt, his biggest enemy in the crucial moment.

"Lemme help," you beckon him closer.

He almost pounces on you, thinks twice at the last moment and kneels between your legs instead, holding himself at the base as you finish the job for him, your own hands at the verge of shaking too. His eyes drink up your body, drool pooling at the corners of his mouth again, until he has to wipe them with a hand before leaning for the last, shallow this time, kiss before the main event.

"Can I put it in?" Strain in his shoulders tells how badly he wants to do it, he explores your cunt with fingers first instead.

You grab his wrist and peel him away, "I want to feel it stretching me."

Yuji doesn't need to be told twice. He scoops your hips to rest in his lap, cock flush against your sex, then guides your legs to rest against his shoulders. He kisses the sole of your foot on his way, wet lips ticklish for your sensitive skin. Laughter doesn't take anything out of the heat between you two, just urges him to take a proper sip of you faster.

He spreads your moisture, still lingering on his fingers, all over his cock, and lines himself up properly.

"Oh...god," he shuts his eyes tight, his face taunt and exploding with scarlet as his tip slides past the tight ring of your entrance. Incoming snap is written all over his expression, an ungodly amount of self-control is needed for him to not just slam himself whole into you, but he keeps it up, patiently stretching you inch by inch in.

Yuji fills you up just right, the line between immense pleasure and stretch beyond discomfort deliciously thin. His pulse is thudding through your body, your rhythms united in the most intimate way possible, and when he finally bottoms out, even your breaths melt into one. He sways you both gently for a while, trying how much is allowed and expected, each slow thrusts splitting you into shattered pieces. Eyes rolling at the back of your head, you claw at his massive thighs, prompting him closer, craving only more with each move and each draft of air hissing through your taunt throats.

He listens, always obedient, always such a good boy.

Your legs are flicked towards you, knees almost by your head, as he easily folds you in half and advances on you with the whole weight and power of his body. He's so deep now, deeper than anyone else before, and stretching you up in ways you've never thought it's possible for you. Throbbing of his dick almost reaches your chest, the scent of his sweat finally breaks through the thin layer of simple shower gel he's coated himself an hour or two before, saliva almost dripping straight from his lips into your open mouth.

He's closer than ever before, almost absorbing you whole into himself.

You're given three deeper breaths to reconsider the position before Yuji starts pounding into you, the last coil of restraints finally snapping. It's not only his hips, he's taking you with the power of his whole body, from heads to toes, as if he tried to bury himself into your hot cunt. He tries to speak, words only die between whines and grunts, drown in chaotic, deep kisses, flooding you with his tongue and drool.

"It's... All mine," he manages to choke out, maybe about cunt, maybe about your body as a whole, it doesn't matter to you now, when folded in half and manhandled as if you were a mere fleshlight. Still, there's only love and care, each thrust slamming into you with passion and yearning of weeks of building the tension for this moment only.

You're both drenched in sweat, so close you swear you can feel his scars and the finest of his body hair. His thrusts almost push you off the mattress; he pins it down with one hand above your head, the other cradling your face into the crook of his neck. His scent is sharp there, the pressure of his touch suffocating you in the most delicious way possible.

Your hole flutters tight around his length, his rumble of pleasure resonates through your body: the final, littlest impulse that finally sets you on fire and drowns you into pleasure until you're seeing white, and your body loses tension.

Yuji's rhythm stutters in response, eases as he lifts himself above you, sparing you much needed air.

"Oh god..." He mumbles, eyes fixed on your blissed out expression. "You're so—"

One more sharp thrust later, he tenses too, and comes with a desperate, choked-out I love you whined into your ear. The union of your rhythms breaks, and your bodies start to drift apart. His cock is still nestled deep in you and your thighs are still flush to his sides—but the heat has simmered down to flame barely tickling your skin.

The beast has turned docile, relaxed in your arms and purring softly when you slide fingers through his sweaty hair.

Yuji lets your legs rest flat and nuzzles up to your neck, wiping the drool off his lips against your moist skin. Both of his arms sneak under you and squeeze you close, lust gone and replaced by lazy love and satisfaction.

His embrace beams with warmth and safety again.

290 notes · View notes

killerlookz · 3 months ago

Text

No Going Back | Joost Klein

this is *technically* a prequel to this fic (heartbeat) but should be read after!!!!! as the "lore" is explained in that fic.

description: joost klein x f! reader- after getting into a new relationship, you had decided it was high time to cut off your ex-with-benefits, joost, but an encounter at a mutual friend's birthday party leaves you wondering if it's going to be easier said than done.

content: 18+ explicit smut, MDNI, RPF dry humping, unprotected PiV/creampie, slight overstim(?), cheating, toxic relationships, angst, some fluff, hurt/comfort... probably like way too much comfort, smoking/alcohol, drug ment. but as a metaphor.

THIS WORK CONTAINS RPF, AND HAS BEEN TAGGED APPROPRIATELY. PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE IF THAT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, BLOCK ME, AND BLOCK THE RPF TAG-

DO NOT SHARE MY WORK EITHER IN ITS ENTIRETY OR AS SCREENSHOTS ON OTHER SOCIAL MEDIAS,AGAIN I URGE YOU TO BLOCK ME AND THE RPF TAG INSTEAD OF EXPOSING THIS WORK TO A LARGER AUDIENCE THAT DID NOT ASK TO SEE IT.

THIS FIC IS ALSO SOLELY TAGGED IN THE X READER TAG, MEANING IF YOU'RE HERE YOU SEARCHED FOR IT... PLEASE CONSUME MEDIA RESPONSIBLY. (keep this in mind if you decide not to heed my warnings and continue reading or complain about it elsewhere)

word count: 10,728

fic soundtrack: Watercolor Eyes- Lana Del Rey, Blood on My Hands- The Sundays, Show Me the Real You- Moodring

"Now I find that I'm thigh deep, too young for the worst of my mind. You whisper behind me, "If I may make so bold". Call it young and wild, but I ran a mile in a minute... and there's no going back"

You should stop staring.

You're sure by now it's obvious, you're sure by now Joost can feel your eyes burning to him from where you sit directly across from him. The conversations around you are little distraction from your watchful gaze. Not even the feeling of your boyfriend, Michael's hand moving to rest on your thigh can pull you out of your trance.

Joost laughs at a joke Apson tells, one that you hadn't bothered to pay attention too. Instead your focus is fixated on the way Joost's face lights up at as his head tilts back slightly, amused by his friend's sense of humor. The dimples in his cheeks now prominent as his mouth opens, lips curling up into a wide grin. All the noise that surrounds you in the crowded restaurant is dampened by the sound of his laughter, a sweet music to your ears.

Joost's eyes meeting yours as his laughter subsides is finally enough to rip you from your stares. With a few quick blinks you're somewhat back to reality, tunnel vision disappearing. You pull your lips into a tight smile, unsure of if you should be embarrassed by your actions. Though embarrassment is hardly on your mind as Joost smiles back at you, which was more than you could hope for given the situation at hand.

It was probably naive of you to assume that getting into a new relationship would make things less complicated between you and Joost. But in your head, initially, it made perfect sense, a new relationship meant you could push your feelings into something different, perhaps finally get over what was supposed to be your ex-boyfriend.

But seeing Joost now, for the first time since you and Michael had started going out, you realize things aren't going to be so easy, that Joost, and the relationship that the two of you had wasn't something that you could just "get over". Especially not when instead of trying to move on after the breakup, the two of you would remain intimate. While intimacy now lacked the romance of your past relationship, your feelings lingered, unable to separate the Joost in front of you now from the Joost who was once your boyfriend.

A quick glance down at your lap leads you to finally notice Michael's hand on your thigh, the reminder that he in fact was the one here who was your boyfriend making your stomach sink. The uncomfortableness of the night was becoming too much to bare. Damn Julie for wanting to meet your new boyfriend on today of all days, and damn yourself for not being able to say no to your best friend on her birthday.

"So," You hear Julie start, looking toward you and Michael, "Michael, y/n tells me you're not from here, have you been in there Netherlands long?"

Michael furrows his eyebrows, you guess he's attempting to count the months since he left the states,

"Almost 8 months." He replies, his voice is flat, uninterested.

"That's nice," Julie smiles, "Do you plan on staying here for awhile?"

"Depends," He shrugs, his hand falling from your lap, a small wave of relief rushing over you. "I go wherever the money takes me. And right not the money is here."

"Well I guess that's not bad advice to live your life by," Julie nods, but she seems unsure of herself, Michael had that affect on people, making people question whether or not you were saying the right thing. You knew that well.

"It's the only advice to live your life by."

"Nah, nah, man," Joost shakes his head, "There's more to life than money. Where's the passion?"

You bite the inside of your cheeks, eyes flicking toward Michael. Michael chuckles, though, just like in everything else, there's a clear condescension in the way he laughs, making it more-so of a scoff.

"Don't be ridiculous," His dry, faux laughter continues, perhaps a little too long, "You're young, you'll find out soon enough. You don't really think you're going to be doing the music thing forever, do you? "

"Michael!" You place a firm hand down on the table, the silverware clattering slightly from the vibration of your hand.

"No, it's okay," Joost laughs uncomfortably. "Appreciate the honesty, Michael." An apparent bitterness in his voice, "But can't say I'll take your advice."

"Eh," Michael shrugs, "You say that now-"

"Alright!" Apson exclaims from beside Joost, clapping his hands together once, commanding the table's attention, "How about dessert?"

The tension is briefly lifted from the table as everyone looks at each other, nodding contently in agreement that it was, indeed, time for dessert.

You're nursing your second espresso martini while the table finishes up their dessert, combined with the glass-and-a-half of wine you had with dinner, you're certainly feeling, less tense.

You listen less than intently as Julie talks about a recent promotion that she got at work. Not that you're not proud enough of your friend to care, but you're not fully there. You inch your leg forward slightly, nudging your ankle against Joost's leg. You pretend not to notice as his gaze flicks towards you, instead you train your eyes on the plate on the table in front of you, moving around what remains of the food with your fork.

Julie is still explaining her new position as you bring your leg up higher, the top of your foot sliding up the fabric of Joost's pants until you reach his knee.

He's staring at you now, just as you had been staring at him before, you can feel it. Still attempting to keep an air of nonchalant you turn to try to focus on Julie's speech. At the same time you move forward slightly in your seat, extending your leg fully under the table, you press the ball of your foot to the inside of Joost's thigh.

You notice in your peripheral how his posture straightens as he sucks in a breath. You smile slightly, a light puff of air leaving your nostrils at his stifled reaction to your teasing.

Truthfully you weren't quite sure what you were doing, you full well had made plans to stay the night with Michael tonight. After all, your apartment was much farther away than his from the restaurant Julie had chosen for her birthday dinner, it was just much easier to stay with Michael and catch a train back home tomorrow during the daytime rather than traveling by yourself at night.

Despite your other plans, you press the point of your shoe a little higher up on Joost's thigh now, continuing to tease him. You have no real end goal in mind, and you really should be consumed with guilt at even thinking of touching a man other than Michael like this, but the alcohol has mellowed your inhibitions, and there's a certain thrill in doing something that you know you shouldn't be.

You feel Joost's hand against your leg, his fingers wrapping around your ankle, thumb gently caressing your skin. You fight back a smirk, after over a month of not seeing Joost you were ready to melt under his simple touch. His fingers tighten, then loosen around you again, and he continuously repeats the pattern, gently massaging you.

You're dangerously close to poking Joost's crotch with the tip of your shoe when Michael throws an arm around you, unexpectedly. You're startled, kicking forward slightly, forcing Joost's hand from your ankle. Joost presses a fist to his mouth, clearing his throat before pushing his seat back, causing your heel to fall to the ground.

"I need a cigarette," He mumbles as he stands up from the table, quickly hurrying away.

His abrupt exit halts the conversation, the table going silent with confusion.

"Um," You start, "I-uh- think I'm gonna have a smoke too." You nod quickly, untangling yourself from Michael's grasp, standing up, shuffling awkwardly from the table.

You quickly find your way outside, the air is brisk, a chill breeze blowing past you immediately making you realize you should have brought a jacket. Joost isn't too far out the door, an unlit cigarette pressed to his lips

"Can I get a cigarette?" Your heels clack loudly against the concrete as you step out onto the sidewalk.

Joost quickly whips his head toward you, ripping the cigarette from his mouth. Joost shakes his head, almost like he's in disbelief,

"What are you doing?" He's genuinely confused, a hint of interrogation in his voice.

You're taken aback by the force at which he asks, a tone he hadn't taken with you in awhile.

"Asking... for a cigarette?" It comes out more like a question, your eyebrows furrowed, words slow in equal confusion.

"No," He shakes his head again, "I mean in there- what was that about?" He raises a hand, vaguely gesturing towards the restaurant, "You have a boyfriend, remember?"

You do remember, unfortunately.

"So, I can't have a cigarette?" You ask slowly, your acute intoxication slipping its way into your words.

"Whatever," He scoffs, holding out his hand to give you the cigarette he was just about to smoke.

"Why are you being so weird?" You giggle, taking the cigarette from him, "Oh," You smile, "Can I get a light?"

"Jesus christ," His annoyance with the way you're playing dumb is apparent, and you know you won't be able to keep up the act forever. You bite the inside of your cheeks as he reaches his hands into his pockets, fumbling around for a lighter. It was naive of you to pretend like Joost wouldn't want to address the obvious elephant in the room.

You place the cigarette between your lips as Joost pulls out the lighter, his hand stretched out to pass it to you. You say nothing, only stick out your jaw slightly, the cigarette flicking upward. You want him to light it for you.

"You're evil," He clenches his jaw, his jaw line sharpening, cheeks hollowing, making the angular bones in his face more apparent. Still, Joost steps forward sightly, flicking the lighter against his thumb. A small orange flame erupts, and Joost lightly passes it to the end of your cigarette, holding the lighter there just long enough for it to light.

You inhale as Joost pulls the lighter back, you bring your hand to your lips, barely holding the cigarette between two fingers. The smoke fills your lungs, invading your senses as the warmth pricks at your throat.

You exhale, "That's not very nice." You frown.

"C'mon," Joost's expression suddenly changes, tilting his head to the side, he seems defeated, "Seriously, what are you doing?"

"I-" You think for a moment, "I don't know." You're equally as defeated now, the threat of having to cut things off with Joost is imminent. And it's what you should be doing, you should be giving Michael your undivided attention, its high time you should be leaving Joost in your past, where you know he belongs.

Your lips tremble as you push the cigarette back to them, the alcohol that once stripped you of your inhibitions suddenly making them so much worse.

"I don't understand you," Joost mutters, "You break up with me, you break my heart, decide you still want to fuck me for a year, then you run off, get a boyfriend, don't talk to me for over a month, and now all a sudden you're touching all over me under the dinner table like I'm the one you're going home with tonight, like you didn't break up with me a year ago."

It does sound bad when he puts it that way, your heart plummeting to your stomach under the heavy weight of guilt. You really fucked up this time.

"Joost-" You're cut off as the cigarette accidentally falls from your shaking hands. Shit. You force your gaze down to the pavement, unable to look at Joost as you crush the barely smoked cigarette under your shoe. "It's not that simple," Your voice is soft, barely returning the same confrontational tone he had given you.

Of course it isn't that simple. Why had he been acting like it was? As if you had broken up with him as a result of love lost between the two of you? As if you had just broken his heart for the fun of it? He of all people should know how hard it was for you to break up with him, what should have been a simple process turning into an hours long affair of you crying in each others arms, lamenting in how much you still loved him, and him desperately apologizing for not having given you everything you deserved.

"And you should know damn well how hard I tried to save our relationship, why else do you think I keep coming back?"

"Obviously you didn't try hard enough, or you wouldn't be here with another guy."

A strained laugh escapes your throat, amused by how absurd Joost is being now,

"No, Joost, you're the one who didn't try." You cross your arms across your chest, realizing just how cold the night air was, goosebumps littering your arms, "That's why we broke up in the first place, remember?" A year later and you still cannot escape the emotions of that night. You can't help but wonder if you'll ever be free from this feeling, or if you even want to be.

Emotions run high, and you can feel the tears brewing behind your eyes, threatening to spill with any sudden movement you make.

You blink once and a singular tear slips from your lash line, slowly caressing the curve of your cheek. Joost's expression suddenly changes, eyes widening, lips parting like he's about to speak.

"Hey, pumpkin," You hear a familiar voice call from behind you, the pet name makes your stomach churn, overwhelming you with such disgust you temporarily forget Joost in front of you. A hand against your back accompanies the voice, finally making you turn to face it.

With a sniffle and a few blinks you push back the emotions, a smile pulling at your lips with a chipper voice to match,

"Michael," You beam, "What's up?"

"I am so sorry honey, but I just remembered I have an early meeting tomorrow," His voice is barely apologetic, and you don't quite understand what he's getting at.

"Oh-uh-okay?" You furrow your eyebrows, unsure of why he's apologizing for having a meeting.

"So I'm going to head out now, I already left some money for the bill, I'll talk to you in the morning, okay?"

"But I thought I was going to come to your-" Michael doesn't let you finish your sentence,

"I know, pumpkin, I'm sorry, I just think it's best you don't stay over tonight." He nods.

"Oh, but it's dark I don't want to-" You're cut off again,

"Don't be ridiculous sweetheart, you'll be okay, see you soon, mkay?" He smiles.

You're hesitant to even speak again, knowing if you say too much he'll probably cut you off again. "Sure," You pull your lips into a tight smile, nodding in an attempt to hide your disappointment. There go your plans for the night. "Right, see you later." You try your best to bare a grin.

"Okay, bye pumpkin," He leans in for a quick kiss on the cheek before hurrying off, on his walk away he throws up a hand towards Joost, "Nice to meet you, buddy."

"Yeah, you too." Joost speaks slowly, though you're sure Michael doesn't even hear with the speed at which he walks away. You flick your eyes to Joost for a brief moment before immediately looking away, opting to no longer brave the cold and head straight for the restaurant bathroom.

You rush past the table your friends still sit at in the dimly lit restaurant, making your way to the back of the building. You fling over the bathroom door, a small relief washing over you when you realize it's only a singular stall before you lock the door behind you.

You place your hand above your eyes, pressing tightly as the tears begin to flow, all of your stupid decisions slapping you in the face at once. Unfortunately, your actions have consequences; and here you were, in a restaurant bathroom forced to bear the brunt of all of them now.

You had broken up with Joost to begin with, in part, to stop the arguing between you two. But it seemed like you could never help yourself, desperate to get Joost to see your side of things, a subconscious urge to finally get him to change, to get him to be the perfect boyfriend you had always dreamed him to be. You can only push so much, tonight being a sign that you were reaching the point where you can't push much more without things breaking.

You lift your hands from your eyes, and lean forward against the bathroom counter. Your hands press into the edge of the marble that surrounds the sink as you stretch your body towards the mirror, inspecting your face.

You're stained with the distinct mark of sadness, eyes now red, your face slightly puffy. You huff, allowing yourself, for just a moment to be grateful you had put on waterproof eyeliner tonight, saving yourself from a potentially greater mess on your face.

You watch yourself in the mirror intently, the glass reflecting back to you how truly pathetic you feel now. But you'll have enough time to feel pathetic once you get home, now, tonight, was about Julie, and it would be selfish of you to spend the rest of the night hiding out, smothering yourself in your own despair instead of celebrating your best friend.

You blink away the remaining tears in your eyes and gently press your fingers to your cheeks to rid the droplets from your skin. The fact you had been crying was apparent, but the restaurant was dark, and you hoped that the low mood lighting would be enough to hide that fact.

With a few deep breaths you're ready to unlock the bathroom door. The metal handle is cool under your shaky touch, you turn it, pulling back the door.

You jump back slightly when you realize there's someone standing behind it, the figure startling you, making your whole body jolt.

"Oh," You inhale sharply, recognizing the person behind the door as Joost, "Sorry, were you waiting for the bathroom? I'm gonna head back-" You speak quickly, head down anxious to get out of his way.

"Nee, I-" He grabs your arm lightly, not allowing you to leave the small corridor the bathroom was located in. He's about to say something else- but you look up at him, and his tone changes, "Oh," He sighs, not releasing his grip on your arm, in fact, only using it to bring you closer to him, "Tell me you weren't crying in there."

You assume he finally got to have that cigarette he wanted after he had given the first one to you, the familiar lingering scent of smoke and his cologne overwhelming your senses as he pulls you closer. The smell, a reminder of his proximity, should upset you, knowing you probably won't be able to enjoy it much longer, but your instincts kick in, and it's nothing but comfort.

"Joost," You start, placing your hand over where his grips your arm, ready to peel it off of you, "I'm okay, I really should be getting back to Julie."

"No, really," He tilts his head, "Tell me." You loosen your hand from where it rests on his, suddenly no longer so willing to part with his touch.

"I'm okay." Your voice a whisper now.

Joost stares down at you, and even now, you can't help but stare back at him. His pretty blue eyes are deep with emotion.

"I'm always doing that, hm?" There's a certain disappointment in his voice, as he moves closer to you, pressing his free hand to your cheek, "Making you cry?"

He's not entirely wrong, but you'd hate to admit it, much less admitting it to his face.

"I know you don't mean to," Your voice is soft, apologetic, like you're sorry for even crying in the first place, "Don't worry about it."

"I worry about everything," He chuckles, a poor attempt at lightening the mood, but it earns a small smile from you, and that's really all he can hope for. "But I was um- thinking I'll take you home? Just, you know, take the train with you, and shit."

"Oh-uh-"

"You can say no." He's quick to speak, "But I heard what Michael said, and I don't really like thinking of you going home by yourself so late."

It's thoughtful, even if he did just almost tear your heart out. You think for a moment, though it's not really necessary to, you already have an answer.

"That would be nice," You nod, "I'd like that."

Joost swipes his thumb against your cheek while he nods back to you, his opposite hand moving from its spot on your arm to snake around your back. His touch only solidifies the cycle you had found yourself tangled in for far too long, you upsetting one another to a point you shouldn't be able to return from, only to fall back in each others arms.

You know you should ask Joost to let go, to just accept his offer to take you home and leave it at that, and not let things go any further. But you'd be a liar to say you didn't love the way it felt when he touched you, the way even after all this time the feeling of his skin against yours still gives you butterflies in your stomach.

The two of you stare at each other silently until you let out a small giggle, realizing how weird it was for you to be sharing such a moment right outside the bathroom.

"I think we should probably head back to the table."

By the time you leave dinner you had regained that slight alcoholic buzz that the emotions of before had taken from you, a smile pressed on your lips as you waved your final goodbyes to your friends.

You turn towards the direction you should be heading, "ugh" You groan, realizing the journey ahead of you, it'll be at least another 45 minutes until you get home.

Another brisk wind blows past you, the prospective 45 minutes ahead of you suddenly feeling so much longer once you realize you'll be shivering for most of it.

"Cold?" Joost chuckles, watching you fold your arms across your torso, attempting to provide yourself with some heat.

"A little," You mumble.

"Mmm, I'm sorry," Joost hums, "Here," He begins sliding the black Ed Hardy zip-up he had been wearing off of his shoulders, revealing he had been wearing nothing but a T-shirt under the hoodie.

You hadn't asked for the sweatshirt, though you still feel a little bad taking it from him when he stretches an arm toward you, handing off the bunched up fabric.

"Are you sure?" You ask, glancing between the hoodie in his hands, and him.

"Yeah, you need it more, at least I'm wearing pants." He smiles, seeming happy enough to let you wear his sweatshirt. He had a fair point anyway, with you having chosen to forego any tights under your skirt tonight.

You slip your arms through the thick fabric, its soft inside immediately enveloping you in at least a little warmth. Joost's own body heat still lingers slightly in the material, a feeling you attempt to savor even as it quickly dissipates.

You're grateful for the slight warmth Joost's sweatshirt provides you, but it's still not enough, still shivering by the time you're on the train back home.

"Still cold?" Joost asks, though it's apparent the way you're folded in on yourself, trying to provide yourself with some heat.

You just hum in response, jaw too tight to talk.

"Oh," Joost coos, "Poor baby," He laughs, "Come here." He throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest. Him calling you "baby" catches you off guard, though you're sure it's more mocking than it is meant to be romantic. Still, you don't dare to say anything about it.

"You're warm," You sigh as you rest your head on Joost's shoulder, face buried in his neck. His body gives off a good amount of heat, feeling more comfortable as his arms wrap around you.

You shouldn't enjoy this as much as you do, and no matter how cold you are you really shouldn't be doing this at all, not as long as Michael was in the picture. But the gentle smell of Joost's cologne is intoxicating, its familiar comfort enough to enjoy the moment without a care in the world.

You close your eyes and snuggle closer into Joost, wrapping your arms around his torso, allowing yourself to relax entirely in his embrace. You can feel his pulse gently thumping from your position against his neck, and truthfully you'd love nothing more than to press soft kisses to the pumping vein and stain his skin with your lipstick. You hate the way your mind betrays your morality, allowing yourself to get lost in these fantasies that you know are no good for you.

"Don't fall asleep on me here," Joost chuckles, lightly caressing your back.

"No promises," You mumble, feeling the vibrations of your speech against his neck.

Luckily for Joost, you hadn't fallen asleep, not leaving him with the burden of waking you up once you had arrived at your stop and dragging you home half asleep.

Instead, by the time you're unlocking your apartment door, you're wide awake, too overwhelmed with emotions to be anywhere near tired. As you turn the doorknob to enter your apartment you look back toward Joost who's standing behind you, looking a little unsure of himself.

"Do you want to come in?" You smile, "You can stay the night, it's kind of late." As soon as the offer leaves your tongue you know there's no going back now.

"You don't mind?" He asks.

"Of course not." The entrance to your apartment now stands as a door to probable bad decisions, ready to be opened. You push open the door, revealing your darkened living room.

Your hit with a wave of nerves as you step over the threshold and into the apartment, anxious for what the night has in store for you. The door lingers open for a few moments longer as Joost enters behind you.

You flick on some lights, illuminating the space around you in a pale yellow glow.

"I think I'm going to get ready for bed," You say lowly, still not tired, but you're unsure of what else to do, "Um," You start to speak again, "I won't make you sleep on the couch, I don't mind sharing the bed." You turn to Joost, shrugging. You secretly hope Joost doesn't decide to take the couch anyway.

"Cool," He grins, eyes scanning the apartment awkwardly.

"Good," Your voice just above a whisper, "Uh, you can make yourself comfortable then, I'll be back." You nod before heading to the bathroom, ready to get your makeup off of your face.

You unzip Joost's hoodie, hooking it on the back of the bathroom door, not wanting to get it wet while washing your face. You head toward the sink, turning the faucet, staring at yourself in the mirror while you wait for the water to warm up.

You sigh, using this alone time to think long and hard about how you want this night to end. Off the top of your head, you know how you want the night to end, the man you were once certain was the love of your life was most definitely making himself comfortable in your bed, it seemed like a no brainer of how you want this night to end.

But it's not so easy to throw away your morality completely, though maybe you've already made your bed by asking Joost to stay the night. Michael would be mad regardless, perhaps there's no point of turning back now. You clench your jaw, deciding you're willing to go however far Joost is.

Another fifteen minutes in the bathroom and you're stepping out feeling a little better, nerves quelled by your extensive nightly self-care routine. You breathe in as you open the bathroom door, your mouth tingling from your minty toothpaste as you take the air in. You exhale as you exit the bathroom, walking towards your bedroom.

The door is open, the room dimly lit by the glow of your TV, and the light that shines in from your balcony window.

Joost lays comfortably in your bed, his lower body resting beneath your thick comforter, it's like he belongs there, resting so casually as if it was his bed too.

"You can turn on a light you know," You smile, your voice pulling him away from whatever he had been watching on TV.

"Oh," He sits up from his position against the pillows, "I wasn't sure if you wanted it on." He rolls over slightly, stretching an arm out to turn on the lamp that sits on your bedside table.

With a faint click your room is cast in a soft orange hue. You take a look around the now illuminated space, realizing you had forgotten to straighten up before you left for the night, some clothes scattered around the floor from your frantic search for the "perfect" outfit.

"Sorry about the mess," An unnecessary shyness in your voice, as Joost had certainly seen your room in worse states.

"I didn't even notice," He chuckles, "Guess I added to it," His head cocking towards your dresser, the pants he had been wearing messily folded with the belt still in the loops sitting on top of it.

You don't respond, instead bending down to unbuckle the ankle strap on your shoes before sliding them off. There's a relief as your feet hit the floor, no longer stuck in the forced uncomfortable position from your high heels. You place your shoes off to the side and close your bedroom door behind you as you step further in.

You walk towards you dresser, thumbing through a mountain of clothes to find something to sleep in, pulling out a T-shirt that had no doubt belonged to Joost some time ago.

"You know, your boyfriend's kind of a dick." Joost speaks unprompted.

"What?" You laugh, shutting one of the drawers to the dresser before spinning around to face Joost.

"Sorry," He furrows his eyebrows, "That was uncalled for. I was- just thinking about tonight, what he said, about the music stuff- and leaving you at the restaurant."

"Oh," You frown, he's not wrong, but you should probably defend your boyfriend, "Michael is just-" Nothing comes to mind, you cannot muster any sort of actual defense, "Yeah, I guess he can be sort of a dick." Your tone becomes dejected, an unfortunate realization that maybe, once again, you had't picked the right man.

"Wow," Joost seems amused, "Never seen you so quick to admit I'm right."

"Shut up," You roll your eyes, playfully scolding him, "Anyways, it's his loss really that he didn't take me home tonight." You pause, taking the intrigue on Joost's face, the way his eyes widen and his eyebrows raise, eager to listen to your complaints, as he for once, was finally not the subject of them. "Bought some cute new lingerie, which I wore tonight, and now he doesn't get to see it." A careful smirk pulling at your lips, "What a waste."

Joost shakes his head, "Poor guy." despite his words it's clear he doesn't feel sorry for him, though, why would he, "But I mean-" He hesitates for a moment, "It doesn't have to be a waste."

"No?" You can feel your face grow hot, "What are you suggesting? That I go through the effort of posing for some pictures for him so he doesn't have to miss out?" You know he's not, but you need the confirmation.

Joost squints his eyes, shaking his head,

"I was actually, thinking of a different audience entirely."

"And that audience being..."

"Me."

"You?" The pair of you speak simultaneously

"Hmm," You pretend to think, as if this wasn't what you were hoping he'd say, "I'm sure you'll appreciate it more than he would anyway."

Joost nods fervently, as your hands fly to the hem of your shirt, quickly lifting the fabric over your head exposing the promised cute new bra. It was simple, black, lace, with a bow between the two cups, but you found it cute regardless, plus, it made your boobs look amazing.

A small smile on your face as you flick your eyes to Joost, who's now sitting up a little higher on the pillows, clearly amused, waiting on edge to see the matching panties. You continue to stare him down as you very slowly pull down the zipper on the back of your skirt.

"Need any help with that?" Joost raises an eyebrow, the question is purely rhetorical but you know he'd love nothing more right now than to get his hands on you.

"No, I think I got it." The zipper reaches as far down as it can go, the skirt loosening at your waist. You do the extra work to pull it over your thighs before letting it slip down past your knees to your ankles, kicking it off to the side.

The panties are just as simple as the bra, a plain black thong with a lacy trim, with a bow in the middle of the waist band to match.

Joost squints, "Oh, you know my eyesight is bad, come closer."

A slight giggle leaves your mouth as you scurry over to the bed in excited anticipation. You stand over where Joost lies now, biting down on your tongue so hard you're sure you'll draw blood. Joost's eager eyes swallow you whole, taking in every inch of your newly exposed body.

Joost sits up all the way, the comforter that once covered him slipping down his chest and into his lap. He swings his legs over so they hang off the bed before reaching out a hand, gently placing it on your hip,

"Oh, schatje," He mumbles, his thumb moving back and forth, gently caressing your skin. Every time Joost touched you like this it felt like the first, your muscles tensing under him. He slides his hand up your torso so it rests on your waist, groping your lightly. "Je bent zo mooi," (you look so beautiful) His eyes find yours, making sharp, and direct eye contact with each other as a smirk forms upon his lips, "I'll almost feel bad taking all this off of you."

"Taking it off me?" You gasp, pretending to be offended by his insinuation.

"No?" He asks, raising an eyebrow like it's a challenge.

"Yeah- I mean, It's kind of unfair, y'know, talking about getting me undressed when you're still pretty clothed."

"What?" He teases, "You want me naked, schatje?"

"Mmm," You purse your lips, "I didn't say that, just if I'm gonna stand here in nothing but my underwear, maybe you should have to take something off too."

"You don't drive much of a hard bargain." Joost smiles, his hands already eager to tear off his shirt, "But that's probably because I'd do anything for you."

"Anything?" You bite your lip, deep down you wish it was as true as he says it is now, just about anything seems like a more apt estimation. He'd do anything but be emotionally present when you need it, anything but listen to you when you say there's a problem in your relationship, anything but engage in healthy communication.

But now's not the time to worry about that, to worry about the past, or the future, not when Joost is undressing in front of you, pulling his black T-shirt over his head, messing up his already unruly blond hair.

The second his flesh is exposed you're already aching to put your hands all over him, yearning for the feeling of his soft skin below your hands.

"Better," The ends of your mouth pull upward in content,

"Don't think so," Joost pouts before looking down at himself, "I don't think we're even, I think... my chest is pretty exposed and you're still very... covered." He looks back at you, waving his hand in a circle as he gestures towards your bra.

"You're ridiculous," You let out a small laugh at the way Joost plays your game.

"No, just being fair," He grabs your hand, pulling you closer so you stand between his legs, "Like you say." He leans forward, placing a kiss just below your belly button, his hands moving to settle on the backs of your thighs, keeping you close to him.

"Right," You smile, "Fair." Your hands crawling up your sides, reading towards your back, quickly fumbling around with the clasp of your bra before unhooking it.

Joost looks up from where he's pressed against your stomach, watching with intent as you slide the straps down your arms, and eventually discarding the bra all together.

You're not as ashamed as you should be, standing in front of Joost like this, in fact, you rather like the way he drinks you in, wordlessly admiring you, devouring your frame with hungry eyes.

"C'mon," Joost pulls away from you, his hands leaving your thighs, "Lay down with me?"

You nod, stepping back from where you stand between his legs so he can crawl back into your bed, shifting to the middle of the mattress. You follow shortly after, crawling on top of the blankets, before making your way to Joost.

Immediately you're straddling him, your knees on either side of him as you sit on his thighs. You try to keep your eyes trained on his face, and pretend not to notice the rest of him, or the way he's beginning to strain against the tight confines of his underwear. But you'd be lying if you said you weren't feeling similarly to him now, a familiar pulsing in your inner thighs, thumping heavily, muscles tight.

"Here," Joost motions with both hands for you to come closer, to rest your bare chest against his. It's an offer you'd be stupid not to accept, leaning forward, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. As you lean down, Joost's lips meet yours, enveloping you in a kiss so soft if it hadn't been coming from your ex, it would be romantic.

Or perhaps that fact had made it more romantic. Regardless you were lost in the way his lips worked slowly against yours, the two of you in perfect rhythm. You straighten your legs so you're laying completely on top of him. Joost's hands move to your waist, helping to position your hips. Your mouth opens slightly, gasping against Joost's lips once you finally feel him put you in the perfect position, the growing bulge in his underwear now right under your crotch.

"Right there," He mumbles before his mouth melts back into yours. You push your hips forward finding some friction between yours and Joost's bodies. You're pathetic, pathetic for him, but it's hard to care, not when he slips his tongue past your lips, hungrily exploring your mouth. Not when he holds your hips so tight his fingertips are sure to bruise your flesh, pulling you down towards him, letting you feel the full extent to how badly he needed you.

You roll your hips forward, your clit grinding against, what you assume is the tip of his now hardened cock. Joost groans into the kiss, clearly enjoying the sensation. By now the two of you would usually be scrambling to get each other naked, but the extra clothing, and the lack of penetration almost makes things more intimate. Joost turns his head for a moment to pull back from the kiss,

"Tell me if we start to take things too far." His voice is strained, and the slow caress of his thumb against your lower back ensuring how genuine each word he spoke was, "Promise?"

"Promise," You whisper.

Truthfully you were long past the point of "taking things too far", having already crossed a line when you decided to tease him under the table at the restaurant. This, now, was borderline unacceptable, fuck that, it was unacceptable- but neither of you seem to mind, Joost almost eager to be a "home wrecker", and you denying that you and Michael even had a home to wreck.

Despite how immoral this may be, you need more of Joost, the death grip he has on your hips has you moving far too slow for your complete and utter desperation.

"Faster," You sigh against Joost's lips, hoping he'll listen rather than using your request to tease you. Joost's hands move just below your ass, his blunt fingernails ripping into the backs of your thighs, spreading them further apart. With his new position you're able move more on your own, able to stimulate yourself more. Pushing your knees into the soft mattress, you begin to rut your hips faster, increasing the friction between you.

As hard as you try to keep a consistent pace, the burning desire in your core and the slick of your arousal make it almost impossible, unable to keep up with your own need.

"You like it like this?" Joost asks, almost breathless, a cockiness in his voice that tells you he already knows the answer.

"Mmhm," You hum lazily, letting your head drop from where you had been holding it up above Joost's, down to his shoulder. You're impossibly drunk off the way you feel, the way with each roll of your hips your clit grinds so perfectly against the length of Joost's cock. It's mind numbing how perfect you fit together, even stifled through your remaining clothes, you're filled with such pleasure.

You dig your fingers into the sides of Joost's arms, fingernails sure to leave little crescent moon shaped markings in his skin. You wish you could pull him closer, still feeling like there is a distance that needs to be closed between the two of you despite your position on top of him.

You clench your jaw, muscles tight at the way your body strains for him. Joost lets one hand climb up your thigh, palm now resting on the curve of you ass, before his fingernails return to your flesh, groping harshly, forcing you to grind harder against his cock. It's apparent that being away from each other for as short as a month was far too long.

You want to hold out for as long as possible, not wanting this feeling to fade, for it to be over in as quick as a few seconds as your orgasm rains over you- but its not so easy as the tightness builds between your thighs, and your movements become even sloppier than they were before.

You're a complete mess the way you whimper into the side of Joost's neck, only egged on by his obvious pulse thumping against your swollen lips.

Joost's own groans don't help holding you off from your impending climax, knowing how good this feels for him too, and that he's just as desperate for you as you are from him is just all too much for your brain to handle.

You know you're close when your legs start to tremble, and its not so easy to push yourself back and forth anymore,

"Tired already?" Joost teases, "Need me to help you?" He wraps two strong arms around your lower back, taking it upon himself to replicate your movements. Joost also thrusts his hips forward in time with you, only making your stimulation more intense.

"So good," The full breadth of you vocabulary seems to disappear, only able to slur together a few measly words to let Joost know how you were feeling, "Feels so good."

"I know it does," He sighs, "You close, schatje? Your legs are shaking."

"Very close," You screw your eyes tight, the hot simmering in your core about to turn over and reach its boiling point. Each and every one of your muscles are incredibly tight, bracing for your impending orgasm.

Joost holds you tighter upon hearing how close you were, determined to work you through your orgasm.

"Whenever you're ready," He encourages.

You could almost break a tooth with how tight your jaw is clenched, nothing but strained whines clawing their way out of your throat as you approach your climax.

The idea of cumming in your panties is a little embarrassing, but in the way that instead of making you want to crawl inside of your self in shame, it makes you only that much closer to finishing. Especially when combined with the filthiness of the fact you'll be ruining those panties over a different man than the one you bought them for. Joost had a habit of brining out the worst in you in the best ways, and now was no different.

"Joost," Your jaw finally unclenches in order for you to get one final word desperate out before your orgasm strikes you. A hot pang of electricity cracks throughout your entire body.

Joost's grip on you does not let up as you ride out your high, his voice nothing but a dull mumble of praises, "Ja, dat is het" (yeah that's it)

You continue to thrust against Joost until you're throbbing with overstimulation, gasping for air against Joost's neck.

"Is that all you got for me?" Joost asks, his words are lighthearted, not minding if you're too tired to continue for the night.

But you're not ready for the night to end, not so abruptly, just like that.

"Just," You inhale, your chest rising against Joost's, "Catching my breath." Exhale.

"Yeah," Joost laughs, high, and light- almost a giggle, "You were working pretty hard."

"Hmm," You hum, "You helped, a little." Acknowledging your orgasm was mainly due to your own work.

"I don't think that's enough," Joost pauses to place a kiss to the crown of your head, "Why don't you lay on your back so I can give you some real effort."

You peel yourself off of Joost's chest, bodies lightly sticky with sweat. You roll over, lightly thumping onto the mattress, landing on your back. Joost wastes no time in getting on top of you, perched on his hands and knees above you. A sight you had gotten used to by now, but it had never gotten less thrilling.

His unruly blonde locks spill over his forehead, some strands sticking against his skin with perspiration. His pupils are blown wide, looking like he's been rolling on molly, but his drug of choice tonight is you, your mere presence getting him higher than the finest pills or powder money could buy.

A lazy smirk draws across his swollen pink lips, a chuckle falling from them as they part,

"Don't laugh if I don't last too long," He jokes, bending his arms to lean forward and kiss your forehead, "You got me a little worked up."

"A little?"

"Very," He sighs in feigned defeat, "You drive me fucking crazy."

"Yeah, both in and out of the bedroom I'm sure." You grin, allowing yourself for just a moment to laugh at the ridiculousness of the antics you often pulled with Joost.

"Mhm," He nods, "But I probably deserve it."

"At least you're self aware, acceptance is the first step to recovery."

"Shut up," He laughs

"Make me," So cliche, You giggle.

It's a challenge Joost takes seriously, immediately catching your lips in another passionate kiss, rendering you unable to speak. You lift your arms, wrapping them around Joost's neck, pulling him down closer to you as you return his kiss.

He pulls away for a split instant, your arms falling to your side with a gentle thud.

"You're sure you want this?" His words are cautious, "We don't have to-"

"I wanna," You cut him off, "I want you." Emphasizing how badly it's him you want.

"In that case," He lifts himself from you, propped up on his knees as his hands reach for the waistband of his underwear. His fingers hook into the elastic, stretching it out slightly before pulling them down his thighs. You watch in anticipation as his cock springs free from the confines of the fabric. You shift your gaze between Joost's face and his dick, the tip a throbbing shade of red, leaky with pre-cum.

You curl your pointer finger towards you, beckoning for Joost to come closer as you prop yourself up on the pillows.

"How about we get these out of the way," Joost suggests, his hands finding their way into the elastic waistband of your panties. You nod, urging him to take them off, which he wastes no time doing.

As your panties come off you bend your legs, putting yourself on complete display for Joost. He grips the base of his cock in his palm, stroking up and down its shaft a few times, stopping at the tip momentarily to spread the clear pearl of precum that leaks from his slit around the head.

"Am I just supposed to stare while you jerk yourself off, or are you going to fuck me?" You tease.

"Patience is a virtue, schatje." He chastises, shaking his head back and forth.

"Fuck patience, I need you inside me." You whine, feeling your arousal growing once again at the anticipation of what's to come next.

"Fuck patience is right," He sighs, realizing what's in front of him.

Joost leans forward slowly to hover over you once more, his face close enough to you that the heat of his heavy breath is almost suffocating. You bite your lip, spreading your legs just a bit more, ready for him.

Joost's eyes trail down from your eyes to between your legs, ready to line himself up with your entrance, admiring every part of you along the way.

With the base of his cock held firmly in his hands, Joost sloppily pushes the tip through your soaked folds, collecting your arousal. You whine slightly, your whole body jerking as he passes your clit, still puffy and overstimulated from before.

Finally he lines himself up with your entrance, eyes flicking up towards you in search of a final nod of assurance, which you gladly give to him.

He pushes into you slowly, almost too slow, allowing you to feel all of him, every vein and curve as he enters you. You hold your breath as you wait for him to enter you completely, the way you stretch around him familiar yet incredibly overstimulating in your current state.

"You okay?" He exhales

"Y-yeah, keep going, please." You assure, nodding quickly.

Joost finally bottoms out, lingering fully inside of you before pulling most of the way out just as painfully slow,

It takes a few strokes for Joost to build up a pace, but once he does he's leaning over you once more. You raise both of your palms to his shoulders, gripping onto them for a split moment before sliding them down to his chest, running your hands over the tuft of dirty blonde hairs.

With each careful thrust into you, your breathing becomes heavier, your brain foggier, purely overwhelmed with the pleasure that is Joost.

"I missed this," Joost groans, "Fuck," He curses, pointed and sharp, "-'m'I gonna have to go another month without you after this? Don't know if I can handle that."

Having already crossed such a line in your relationship with Michael, it seemed unnecessary to deprive yourself of continuing to see Joost in this capacity again.

"Mmno," You slur, "Can have this whenever you want, whenever you want. Every day even."

"Every day, baby?" He raises an eyebrow, "What's the matter? Michael can't make you cum like I do?"

"Or at all," You sigh,

"Oh," Joost's expression is suddenly pained, "Not at all?"

"Barely." You clarify, not quite sure of why the topic of Michael is even being brought up during sex.

Joost lowers his head to your jaw, pressing open mouth kisses to your skin. His tongue is wet and warm, it's soothing, the sensation making you exhale in pure bliss.

"Just using me to cum then, hm?" His question not entirely serious.

"Oh shut up," You giggle, "That's what my fingers are for."

Joost places another sloppy kiss to your jaw before speaking again,

"And I don't suppose you're thinking of Michael when you're doing that?"

"Not exact-ly," You admit, the inflection of your voice raising on the last syllable as Joost begins to thrust into you harder.

"Care to enlighten me on what you do think about?" His voice leads you to believe he's confident that he's the one you think about when trying to get off, and of course, he's right.

"This, right here," You admit, breathing labored with Joost's sharp thrusts. "You," You swallow down a moan, "Fucking me." You bite your lip, "And when I don't feel like faking an orgasm, I imagine its you fucking me instead of Michael."

"Fuck, liefje," Joost lets out a low groan, "Gonna make me cum right now saying shit like that to me."

"Well it's true," You respond innocently, "Never gonna find anyone else like you." And part of you never wants to, Joost such a unique part of your life you'd never want to replace, no matter how rocky things have a habit of becoming between you.

Both of you cease to speak, no more sly remarks to make to each other, rather your bedroom filled only by the borderline pornographic noises you and Joost made together. The filthy wet slapping that bounced off the walls with each thrust, you whispered moans, and Joost's strained grunts instead filling the dead air.

You slide your hands towards Joost's neck, pressing down with your palms, careful not to choke him out, only wanting to feel him under you.

Joost seems like he's struggling to keep pace, his arms wavering on either side of you, signaling he was probably getting close, you're not far behind, but you can't help be disappointed, wishing this moment could last forever.

At this point, Joost knew your body by memory, knowing just where to thrust and at what pace to have you squirming and whimpering under him. And he was putting that knowledge to plenty good use now, the sound of your moans getting louder, and more unruly with each roll of his hips forward was music to his ears.

You feel your muscles tighten once more, already aching and sore from your prior activities, yet you don't let the strain distract you from your building climax. You know you won't be able to last much longer, not with the perfect angle Joost thrusts into you at, so deep with each stroke, and so delicately brushing over your sensitive clit every time he pulls out and subsequently dips back into you.

You keep your eyes trained on Joost for stability, watching the way his face contorts with each perfect thrust forward. He's pretty, almost impossibly so, in a way that makes it hard to care how frequently he seemed to make a mess of your life- it was all worth it, just to see that pretty face above you like this.

"You're staring," He can barely laugh, too out of breath, though he tries. Joost had always been amused by your infatuation with him, and even more so he loved to watch how shy you got when he called you out on it.

Your skin is hot, and not just from the obvious physical activity, it's a warmth that radiates from inside of you, burning every nerve. You let your head fall to the side, a sheepish smile stuck on your lips.

"Don't shy away from me, I'd like to stare at you too." He whines, coaxing you to look back at him.

Your eyes reach his once again, and you notice how his lips part in a deep gasp, ready to speak

"I'm close," His eyes screwing shut for a moment, "Do you want me to pull out?"

He'd never asked before, it had never been a problem, knowing full well you were on the pill.

"Huh-" You huff, "No"

"Just making sure," He speaks through gritted teeth, "Don't wanna be knocked up with another man's baby."

"Oh be quiet," You scold, realizing how badly you choosing to do this with him while you were with Michael had Joost reeling, obviously getting off on it. Getting off on the fact for what felt like for once in his life, he was the better man, and that he was obviously irreplaceable in your life.

"Fuck, schatje," He grunts, "You okay if I cum now?" Not like there was much of a choice, he didn't really have control over that sort of thing,

"Please," You plead, wanting nothing more than to take him to completion.

With a few sharp thrusts, ones that so deliciously hit that perfect spot inside of you, ones that leave you yelping so loud you're sure the neighbors will hear, Joost is spilling into you. His warm release coats your walls.

The feeling makes you clench, Joost sucking in a sharp breath at the way you grip him with his lingering thrusts. His hips sputter forward, sharply ramming into you, this one final move enough to set off your own expectant orgasm.

"Joost!" Your hands leave his neck, flying down to the bed to grab the comforter below you, gripping it harshly between your fingers for stability. Your whole body is overwhelmed by pleasure, and you begin to loose control, legs shaking, body squirming, noises you couldn't even know you could make leaving your lips. You're a complete mess, probably looking more like you're having an exorcism than having sex. But you can't help yourself, it's all too much, and feels all too good. "I'm-" You can't even finish your sentence before the walls of your pussy begin to flutter, your own release spilling out of you, mixing with Joost's to paint his cock with his few final lazy strokes.

Once your orgasm finally rolls over you, Joost is collapsing onto your chest, the pair of you desperate to catch your breaths. You release your grip from the comforter, fingers sore are you flex them, loosing them from their tightened position.

You know the impending wave of guilt is bound to crash into you at any moment, but at least for now you feel nice, Joost's hot, sweaty body atop you is a comforting weight, despite the way it slows your breathing.

You wrap your arms around his back, his skin sticky with perspiration, but you don't mind the way it feels, only wanting to be close to him. He's not quite ready to pull out of you yet, and you're not ready to let him go, instead both of you opt to enjoy the moment, letting your shallow breaths fill the room with eyes shut tight.

You press a kiss to Joost's forehead, unable to stop yourself from the mildly romantic gesture. It's clear Joost doesn't mind, placing a kiss to your shoulder from where his head lies on you.

After a few more minutes of embracing like this, Joost slowly begins to peel himself off of you. You watch intently as he lifts himself up, hair in every which direction, eyelids low, face heavy with lingering pleasure. You want nothing more than to pull him back down on you and stay like that, but you really need to catch your breath.

Carefully, Joost begins to pull out of you, your eyes fluttering shut at the sensation, a strangled whine leaving your throat.

"Sorry," Joost apologizes, finally pulling out of you completely. The way you can feel his release spilling out of you, onto your thighs makes you wince, a filthy reminder of what you had done. Joost most definitely notices the look on your face, backing off of the bed, "Hold on, I'll clean you up."

You assume Joost had run off to the bathroom, coming back a few moments later with a towel, gently patting it between your thighs, careful not to overstimulate you further.

"Gonna go onto the balcony for a smoke" He says, standing back up to redress himself in his underwear, "Want me to close the door behind me so it doesn't get cold in here?"

"It's okay," You sigh, finally having the strength to sit up. Your abdomen and legs are sore, letting you know tomorrow will be a challenge, "Just means you'll have to cuddle me when you get back in."

"Perfectly okay with that," He chuckles before heading to open up to the small balcony on the other side of your room.

A small breeze enters the room as the doors open, and soon the scent of smoke follows. The chill makes you want to hide under the covers, but something is pulling you to go out there with him. You quickly get up from the bed, fighting the cold as you scramble to put on the shirt you had picked out before and a new pair of underwear.

The cold of the outside fully hits you as you step onto the balcony, but it's hard to mind with Joost half-naked in front of you.

"You want a smoke?" He asks

"No, I'm good." You shake your head, "Just wanted to-" Your voice is soft as you wrap your arms around Joost's torso. He's still so warm despite the weather outside. He wraps his free arm behind you, pulling you close to him.

"That's alright," He mumbles into your hair, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. You find comfort in the slow thump of your heart, and this way his chest rises and falls each time he takes a drag of his cigarette. You wish things with Joost could be like this all the time, though really you knew this was the calm before the next storm.

It's nice to pretend, though, at least for now. Pretend he's still your boyfriend, and that everything had worked out between the two of you like it should have.

"You alright, liefje? You're being nicer to me than usual." His slight laughter vibrates against your cheek from where it's pressed to your chest, making you snuggle into him.

You know he's joking but it makes you feel a little bad, knowing you can be harsh on him over the smallest things sometimes.

"I don't know," You sigh, overwhelmed with emotion once more, "I think that- I don't know." You repeat, "Confused."

"I am too."

"I'm sorry." You know it's your fault just as much as it is his.

"Me too."

"I think I still love you." You don't think, you know, but you feign like you're unsure to make it less real.

"Schatje," He coos, rubbing his hand over your back.

"Am I crazy to think you might still love me too?"

"Not at all." He presses another kiss to your head, "I know I love you too."

You dread the moment when you'll have to return back to real life, the reality where Joost is nothing more than an ex boyfriend, and you're with Michael- but for now things are good. Joost will wake you up with head in the morning, and after you'll go to that breakfast place you like around the corner, still in your pajamas. The two of you will sit next to each other in the booth, and hold hands under the table before heading home to share a shower together. And inevitably as the day grows later, one of you will make the smallest slip up, say one wrong thing, and you'll be at each others throats again, ending the day crying, finally ignoring each other until its time to repeat the cycle over again.

But that was a problem for tomorrow, right now you're in his arms, and he's telling you how much he still loves you, and you can pretend for just a moment, that maybe, just maybe things will change.

a/n: weeee i wasn't expecting this to get so long XD......... <3 but im so excited to finally get this out... mwah mwah <3... if you're feeling kind, leave a comment or a reblog to let me know what you think! thank you :3

#joost klein x reader #joost klein x f! reader #joost klein smut #rpf #joost klein rpf #joost klein fic #heartbeat! au

251 notes · View notes

jessnotfoundd · 1 month ago

Text

Meddle about- Charles Leclerc (Teasing)

8!KINKTOBER! MINORS DNI

Remember this contains sexual descriptions, nudity, and intercourse.

Charles recently got a new girlfriend, and he's been talking about it. After a few weeks, he had slowly been inviting me less and less over his place and stopped completely spending more time with her. But suddenly, after a month of little to no interaction, he called me, asking if I could come over, and I could sense some kind of desperation.

When I knock on his door I can tell what he's about tonight, but I could be wrong. So when the door swings open I smile. He looks happy too but a little upset and nervous.

"Hey, come in," he says with a grin, holding my wrist with one hand to pull me inside.

"Hey, you okay?" I mutter.

I close the door behind me and he walks me to the couch, he plops down and I do too.

"No... not really"

"Oh, what happened?" he lets go of my hand and sighs.

"It's just my girlfriend.... we had a bit of an argument and I just started to feel a little shitty...." He lifts his eyes to look at me. " Can I tell you something?"

I nod, wanting him to just continue.

"Promise you won't tell a soul" he lets out a deep breath.

"My lips are sealed" I smirk, trying to lift the tense feeling surrounding us.-

"She's been doing something I may not be so comfortable with her," he says quietly.

"Like what?"

"Well. She's been a bit..... demanding, to say the least," I can tell he was avoiding eye contact with me. "It kinda makes me miss the days where you and I ... you know, were closer" He mutters.

Suddenly, without thinking, he grabs my hand and holds it in his. "I really miss spending time with you" I can tell there was some truth in his voice.

The two of us sit silently as he runs his thumb over my hand, his touch sending shivers down my spine. He takes a second, thinking to himself before speaking again.

"We were so close..." he scoots closer "Can I ask you something else?"

"What?" I mutter, trying to think about everything he's saying.

He hesitates for a second, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. "I have a question but I would appreciate it if you could be honest with me, okay? I smirk.

"Shoot"

"Do you" he takes a second to keep going "Still feel the same way about me as you did back then?" he says looking down.

"What is going on Charlie.... is she not being good for you as I was?" I whispered in his ear, I knew this was what he wanted to talk about the moment I picked up the phone and he asked me to come over.

He freezes as he feels my warm breath against his ear, causing him to shiver. He turns to look at me, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "No .... she's not the same as you..." He mumbles so low I almost can't hear it.

"She's been trying to do the same thing you used to do with me?" I see his eyes shut closed, knowing what I was hinting at as I speak.

"Yes... but when she does it... it's different" his voice waver a little.

"Why?" I look at him but he changes the direction of his eyes.

"She's not as gentle as you were.... she.." he doesn't finish his sentence, but instead tightens his grip on my hand, almost as if he is scared I would leave him.

"What is wrong Charlie... she doesn't turn you on as I do?" I whisper, a small flush growing on his face.

"No..."

"She can't touch all the right places like I used to?"

"No" He states. "She won't touch me softly like you do" He scoots closer again, his hand squeezing mine. "I keep comparing her to you.. and it's been pissing me off." He murmurs honestly and moves his other hand, gently putting it on top of my thigh. "When she touches me, I just can't help but compare it to when you used to touch me in all the right places" He's so close I can feel his breath on my skin.

I move my fingers along his thigh.

"God, I missed your touching me so much" He moves even closer like it was even possible." I can't stop thinking about it.. you just know where all my sensitive spots are, I can't stop thinking about just how good you were" he says now breathlessly.

He moves his hand to my waist, gently pulling me into his lap without warning. "I need you to touch me again.... only you can do it right.." He says desperately into my ear, his voice almost a whine.

"Too bad you have a girlfriend now" I whisper back.

"Please..." he whines. "She's out with her friends for the night.. and I need you... please" he sighs "I'll do anything," he says in my ear and I smirk.

Another whimper in frustration comes out of his mouth, his eyes now almost begging. "Please, I need you" he whimpers, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"mmmm, I don't think this is fair" I whisper, getting out of his lap and sitting beside him again.

"God please, I'll do anything, anything you ask of me, just please t-touch me," he says, letting a sound that's half between a whine and a moan.

"You know, I don't want to meddle about you and her," I say, I wasn't completely lying, I did think this wasn't fair to her, but at the same time, I was holding myself to not wreck him. "Why don't just talk about the week, after all, you called me to "catch up""

"Y-yeah, let's do that" I could tell he was frustrated I changed the topic and was having a hard time focusing on the present.

"What's been up? How's been the week?"

"Just u-uh training, mainly" he looks down, and then his eyes find mine "Not much else, really"

"Yeah, how was training?" I move my hand to his thigh. Noticing his shiver and how he presses his head against the back of the couch.

"Well... you know the usual"

"Next race is Singapore, right?" I move to get the tv controller, my hand brushing against his crotch 'by mistake'.

"Y-yeah," he says, his eyes still on me, waiting for me to move again. Which I do, moving back I brush my hand again against his crotch. "Fuck" He mumbles, barely holding it together. "I can't".

I ignore him, turn the tv on, and start to channel diving to find something good.

"Jesus Christ" he fidgets, while trying to focus on the tv. "Can you do that again?... please?"

"Do what?" I act dumb.

"You know what I mean... I'm begging you... please?" his voice starts to get needy.

"And do you think that this is fair to her?" I whisper against his ear again.

He closes his eyes, letting out a shaly exhale as I keep teasing him. "I don't care, I'm begging you, please I need your touch," he says in a whiney tone.

"I don't think your girlfriend deserves this"

"I don’t care about her, I need you…please.." he begs, now completely desperate. "N-no one can make me feel the way you do"

"is that so?" I shift to my side and move my lips over his.

He lets out a shaky whine "Yes…yes it is….please, I beg you…." He mutters, shifting around on the couch again, trying desperately to find some relief from the aching his body is going through.

I cross my leg over my knee. "I don't know this feels pretty wrong." I move my hand to caress his cheek, he closes his eyes at the feeling of my hand on his skin.

"I don’t c-care….I need you….please…"

"Yeah, you look like you really need it" My lips brush his.

A moan escapes his lips. "God, I can’t take it…please, please just…do something…." He whispers, the need in his voice starting to verge on pleading desperateness.

I take his hand away slowly. "What do you want me to do?"

He nearly whines in frustration as I take his hand away, needing to do something, anything, to relieve the aching fire that’s coursing through his body. "I don’t care…anything….just please touch me….I can’t take it anymore…" he practically begs.

"Touch you were?"

"J-just…anywhere… I don’t care where…just anywhere…please…. I need something to relieve this ache…"

I was about to kiss him when we heard the keys on the door. }

"Whoops" I whisper, moving away to set a healthy distance from him, knowing his girlfriend was about to step into the apartment.

137 notes · View notes

clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year ago

Note

I came back from the movie theaters (Fnaf Movie) My lord I FREAKING LOVED IT THE WHOLE THING IDC AHHH Ahem-

I saw that requests are open, SO a Platonic Headcanon Request if you don't mind, Fnaf (Movie) Animatronics with Gender-Neutral (17-soon to be 18) Reader as the new security guard? or maybe tags with Mike and possibly Abby? (Reader ain't tall just-idk 5'2 maybe I am projecting-)

(I know this request doesn't make sense because of the tiredness due to staying up late because of excitement. Feel free to delete this ask if its too complicated)

bonus: If you want to, You can also Include Chica's Cupcake

Have a nice day/night, From 📞 ☕ (PhoneCoffee) Anon

Oh I can definitely work with this ^^

......

When you started working at Freddy's overnight, you hoped this would be your last summer job ever before you turned 18.

"Steve" said it was all pretty straightforward: watch the cameras and make sure nobody broke in.

Easy as pizza pie, right?

Well, when you realized one of the animatronics very subtly moved from their usual spot, you wanted to check them out for yourself.

Plus, sitting in the office for six hours every night would def get boring as hell.

So you head to the main stage area, finding the whole gang mysteriously gone--Foxy included.

Then you get surprised by them emerging from different places in the pizzeria, eyes glowing a sinister yellow as they surround you, wary of your intentions.

"O-Oh hey..um..Fazgang?" You try your best not to look so terrified.

Surely someone was controlling them, right? They couldn't possibly hurt you.

Yet they stop and collectively realize "wait, isn't this a teenager? And why are they working this job??"

But since you're not wrecking anything in the pizzeria (or screaming bloody murder unlike the last guard), they spare you and are just very chill overall.

You now start to believe all the rumors of them being haunted by little children.....although not even that scares you.

On the second night, you learn that they can understand simple drawings--and that's how you pretty much communicate with them and build up trust.

While Bonnie is regarded as the "most aggressive", he was a real sweetheart who let you shine his guitar and hugged you tightly to express his thanks.

Alas you haven't found a way to stop it from constantly short-circuiting when he strums it...but you vow to figure something out.

Chica was equally as sweet, although for some reason Carl the Cupcake made you feel nervous.

The way he can be on the plate one moment and then disappear the next makes you worried that he'll sneak up on you and bite your ankles off.

But as long as Chica's around, that won't ever happen.

Although Foxy looks quite dangerous, you try your best to patch up the hole in his chest using some spare parts from backstage while being oblivious to the deadly Freddy mask saw trap in the corner, something he's grateful for.

He even sang you a little sea shanty as thanks!

Freddy was the first to be suspicious of you, but after seeing a drawing you made of him, he grows to like your presence, too. Especially after how nice you've been to his bandmates.

So you definitely survived more than five nights at this place--longer than anyone so far.

When Mike gets hired and comes in for his first shift with you, he's surprised that a teen is training him.

He suspects this was some lousy summer job you were forced to get and thinks you're gonna act miserable the entire time you work together and not actually teach him shit.

But as it turns out, you love your job!

You show him the Fazgang during their "showtime" performance and assure him that while they may look creepy, they're not bad at all.

And while you're not getting paid extra to do simple maintenance on them, you still enjoy trying to keep them in tip-top shape (especially Foxy, who needs repairs the most).

Mike seriously thinks you shouldn't be doing that as it's not in the job description AND it could be dangerous.

Even if you have expertise in robotics, he still thinks it's not worth losing a limb or finger to those complex contraptions.

Like he almost did after getting near a springlock suit.

But you just teasingly remind him who the trainer is..and he goes quiet.

Foxy overhears this, and you see him snickering from behind the Pirate's Cove curtain, amused by you basically schooling this 25-27 year old man.

Unfortunately he startled poor Mike, who looks over quickly.....only to find the fox standing in his usual position, acting completely normal.

"Was he just laughing at us...?"

"Nope." You play dumb, shrugging. "Must be his voice box malfunctioning....c'mon. Let's see if we can fix that."

Least to say, you're not gonna let him sleep on the job anytime soon.

#clanask #phone coffee anon #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's x reader #fnaf movie x reader #fnaf movie spoilers #platonic #teen reader #mike schmidt #freddy fazbear #bonnie the bunny #chica the chicken #foxy the pirate #headcanons

1K notes · View notes

grandline-fics · 9 months ago

Text

Terms of Endearment

DESCRIPTION: You call them by a term of endearment without realising

WARNINGS: none that come to mind.

CHARACTERS: Law, Kid, Shanks, Marco, Zoro | Ace, Sabo, Luffy

WORDS: 2,943

A/N: I decided to use Zoro as the final character. Since he and Ace tied in the poll, I might make a second one of these and use Ace and any others people may want.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

LAW

He knew it was irrational to be jealous of an inanimate object. Law knew that it’d be childish to use his Devil Fruit to take it out of your hands and claim your attention for himself. While he had enough restraint to not do that, the temptation to do so was still there. His eyes zeroed in on the book in your hand. He glowered and wondered if it was really that good, did it really deserve such intense, rapt attention that you were giving it. Your eyes were alight as you took in the words, your fingers already tucked behind the next page and ready to turn it as quickly as possible. Law watched you carefully, almost praying for your expression to turn to one of sudden boredom but it didn’t come.

He supposed he was to blame this time, a lot of this was new to him. While your relationship had only turned to a romantic one recently, you’d both been close for a lot longer. Long enough for you both to be able to spend time together while doing entirely separate things. You only pulled your book out because he had medical charts to look over and update. Law made a mental note to try a bit harder from now on to make the time you had together one of quality.

Finally he sat back in his seat and rubbed his eyes, letting them relax from pouring over the extensive pages now neatly piled on his desk. Slowly he stood and walked to the sofa you were perched on, unmoving and seemingly unaware he was approaching. Law tried to bite back his jealousy once more, wondering how annoyed you’d be if he ‘accidentally’ sent that blasted book out into the depths of the ocean.

When he sat down in the space beside you, he smiled softly when you leant back so you were against his side. One of your hands dropped to rest on his arm that was around your waist, your fingers lightly making soothing patterns against his tattooed skin. Law supposed this did count as quality time since it meant he could relax with you in a way he couldn’t with anyone else. He allowed himself the time to settle further against the cushion and press his lips against the back of your head. “Don’t forget you and Bepo are on duty tonight.” He reminded you, still having to act as your Captain when necessary.

“Yes, love.” Your answer was light and casual that he didn’t realise what you’d said at first. Then it echoed in his head ‘love.’ His eyes widened and he peered at the back of your head. There was no way he misheard that. You’d called him love, not Law, not Captain. Love. There was no mistaking the way his heart skipped a beat in reaction. It sounded so right, so effortless the way you said it and he found himself wanting to hear it again. It was also clear that from your lack of reaction, you hadn’t realised what you’d called him because you were partially distracted. Law smirked and for a moment reconsidered his earlier distaste. Perhaps your book wasn’t so bad after all.

KID

Kid didn’t want to admit it but he was powerless against you. He was stubborn and hotheaded and did what he wanted even if someone had sound logic to convince him whatever he had planned wasn’t wise. If anything if someone did attempt that nonsense with him, he’d be even more extreme with his conviction to do as he wanted and would even think of a way to make his actions even more outlandish and dangerous. Even Killer had a hard time keeping the captain in a somewhat mature state of mind. You however were a different story. Anything you wanted, it was yours all you had to do was ask.

Kid just never knew how to let you know that was the dynamic between you both. He was never afraid to speak his mind, if anything he yelled it to ensure everyone knew his thoughts. Yet he seemed to bite his tongue from confessing how he truly felt with you. He’d much rather have you beside him every day and enjoy the playful teasing and jokes than make things real and risk you not seeing him that way. Killer had told him one night to just confess already and trust that you felt the same. Kid had rolled his eyes and promptly kept his feelings buried in his chest. It was better, they were safer there than spoken out loud and unable to take them back.

He walked into the kitchen one evening to see you and Killer preparing the crew’s dinner. You looked over at the sound of his naturally heavy steps coming closer and smiled in greeting to see him stop in the doorway. “Here to help, Captain?” You asked, already knowing the answer before it came. Your smile grew when Kid let out a loud laugh and made a show of folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the doorframe.

“Not unless you want me to poison the crew.” He smirked.

“You’d nurse us back to health if you did infect us though, right?” You joked before looking back to the food you were meant to keep an eye on instead of getting distracted by your handsome Captain. You had to keep reminding yourself to behave and actually respect the chain of command. To let yourself imagine he may genuinely feel the same as you did would only lead to heartbreak in the long run but still you flirted and teased him whenever you could. You supposed you were just a glutton for punishment. You slowed in stirring the food and looked around for the seasonings only to see the small jar on the counter near Kid.

“Could you pass me that?” You asked nodding your head at what you needed. Kid followed your gaze and immediately pushed himself away from his comfortable position to lift the tiny item. He stepped forward and passed the seasoning into your waiting hand, hating and loving how the brief moment of his fingers skimming against yours brought him such a burst of joy. “Thank you, darling.” You smiled, turning back to the stove. While you hadn’t noticed what you’d said Killer did and he stopped cutting the vegetables to look Kid who was frozen in place, his eyes wide and cheeks turning the same bright red as his hair.

Darling? The fuck did you mean darling?! Kid’s mind was short-circuiting as he scrambled to gather his wits together and make sense of it all. Had you called him that subconsciously because was it possible that you felt for him too? God he hoped so because getting to hear you call him something so sweet again would be perfect.

SHANKS

One of the great things about sailing with an Emperor of the sea like Shanks was the fact that there were many islands under his protection. Any time you landed at one for a visit or even for the excuse of resting from a long stretch of sailing, the locals welcomed you all so warmly that it turned into one big celebration. None of you needed to worry about night watches, chores or other duties and could just sit back and enjoy the peace until Shanks decided he wanted to get back on the waters again.

As a crew, you were all used to just passing out and sleeping wherever you were at that time and waking up with aches from the uncomfortable positions you’d all ended up. However the town you were staying in was large enough to provide some rooms for you all in one of their inns. Some of you still needed to double up but the beds were extremely comfortable and who were you all to refuse such generosity? One night when the drinking and partying was only just beginning you slowly rose from your seat with a stifled yawn and forced yourself to finish your drink. Shanks was first to notice your movements. “Going for another round of drinks already?” he asked, coming across casual but he knew you weren’t yourself.

“Nah, I’m turning in early.” You announced, playfully flipping off the crew when they started to boo you for being boring. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Blame Beck, alright. I haven’t slept the last two nights. Goodnight.” You gave no further explanation and disappeared up the staircase to claim a room to sleep in. Shanks looked towards his righthand man with a small scowl. He hoped you hadn’t implied what he thought. Beckman could sense his Captain’s silent interrogation and waved away his worries. “Calm down Cap, you know I’d never make a move on them. It’s just been bad luck we’ve had a share a room together and I snore…apparently.” He explained with a shrug and long drink of his ale.

Shanks had accepted the answer, knowing Beck would never lie to him. Yet as innocent as it all was, he couldn’t ignore the way he’d felt sick at the thought of you being with another of the crew. While nothing had exactly happened between you both, it was painfully obvious that there was something there. A playful dance you both engaged in without making an actual step forward into committing and admitting you’d had feelings. Roughly Shanks rubbed his eyes, now wasn’t the time to be thinking on such things, not with alcohol in his system and you not being there to talk to like the adults you were.

The rest of the night had helped to take his mind off things but it was all undone by the time he entered the room he’d been staying in the entire stay and saw you sleeping soundly in his bed. He was the only one in the crew that didn’t have to share his room with anyone else so why were you here? He approached the bed and shook your arm, watching your eyes crack open and he immediately felt guilty. You really did look exhausted. “Why’re you in my bed?” He asked, trying not to laugh as your eyes slipped closed again.

“Furthest room…no snoring. Please honey, lemme sleep.” Your voice was thick with sleep and your breathing was growing deeper again. Shanks might have appeared calm but that was the first time you’d ever called him something like that and as far as he knew you’d never called anyone else on the crew something similar. That all but cemented his decision that things needed to be talked about when you were both awake and rested enough to deal with things. Finally he let out a sigh and climbed into what would be his side of the bed while keeping respectable space between you both. “Fine, only because it’s you.”

MARCO

Your relationship with the ship’s doctor was a fairly new one. You had both known each other long enough to know the general likes and dislikes and the atmosphere on the Moby Dick among the crew was always one of familial harmony so there was never any uncomfortable tension. You were both content to just take things easy and enjoy things as they developed naturally without needed to force things into a certain timeframe. Marco’s personality being so relaxed and carefree was infectious in general and it was no different in your relationship.

Marco stood from his desk and stretched, ready to find you and enjoy the rest of the day with you now that all pressing tasks he’d needed to complete for the day was done. He was just about to leave when Izou entered to talk about organising a banquet for Ace’s birthday. As the two were discussing everything you appeared and smiled at them both before entering the room.

“Babe, did you see my-” Anything else that came out of your mouth was unfortunately drowned out by the increased heart rate in Marco’s ears. Instead he could only watch as you were busy looking for whatever it was that you’d lost. Marco would have considered himself steady and able to handle most situations but hearing you call him babe for the first time had certainly thrown him and you seemed oblivious to the fact that you’d done so. The only person who truly reacted was Izou, his laugh snapping Marco out of his trance and catching your attention too. “Babe, huh? Didn’t realise things were so serious with you two. Maybe we could plan the wedding too.” Izou teased.

“What are you talking about now?” You asked with a small smile. You were used to Izou’s teasing like a brother figure would but sometimes he just didn’t make sense. When Izou saw that you weren’t aware of your subconscious slip-up he grinned wider.

“You called Marco, babe.” He explained. You rolled your eyes and let out an amused laugh. As far as jokes went, it wasn’t the worst one he’d told you but he could do better. Suddenly you became concerned when Izou’s smug grin wasn’t slipping and you had to think. What had you said to Marco when you entered the room? Slowly you pulled your gaze to your boyfriend and he nodded. “Well looks like you two lovebirds need some alone time.” Izou all but sang as he left, no doubt hurrying off to tell Ace and the others about Marco’s new nickname.

“So…” You cleared your throat nervously and gave a small laugh. “Want to forget that happened? I swear I didn’t realise I’d even called you that.” The last thing you wanted was to make Marco think you were forcing him to a point he wasn’t ready for. Thankfully his broad smile was enough to make you relax, his naturally warm aura soothing your brief worries before they had a chance to escalate. Marco stepped closer to you, settling a hand on your waist. “Well even if you stop now, I bet all the others will start. Honestly I’d much rather hear it from your lips. Can I hear you say it again?”

ZORO

Zoro kept a firm hold on your shoulder as you stumbled, trying to twist weakly out of his grip. Any other instance he would release you if his touch made you uncomfortable but this was a completely different situation. After defeating a group of lackeys, one managed to make one last attack before falling unconscious. You’d been quick enough to intercept whatever it was he threw towards you and Zoro but when it was destroyed it still released a cloud of strange smelling gas. Zoro had been a safe enough distance but you weren’t so lucky.

At first you’d insisted you were fine but after walking a few paces your balance started to sway and your mind was beginning to cloud. Zoro became concerned by the glazed look in your eyes as you tried one more time to pull out of his unwavering hold, glaring at him. “Jus’ let me go! I don’t know you.”

His eyes widened at your declaration, not only because you sounded so dazed and confused. It was not like your usual bright and familiar way of speaking that made him happy to hear but it was also because hearing you say you didn’t know him filled him with more concern than he was willing to admit. He needed to find Chopper quickly to treat whatever it was you’d been hit with. For now he had to try and keep you calm and prove you were safe with him. “Course you know me. We’re crew-mates, remember? It’s Zoro.”

Abruptly you stopped and bumped into his chest, lifting your head to stare at him, trying to force yourself to focus on his face. Your hand reached out and clumsily gripped his face, tugging him forward enough for you to see his features better. Zoro could see your pupils were blown wide, whatever had been in that vial was some sort of hallucinogenic and he hoped that that was all it was. It could be better dealt with than a poison. Not that seeing you so wary and untrusting of him was any better. Your suspicion didn’t subside when you finally let go of his face and shook your head.

“You’re not Zoro.” You finally declared, trying once more to get away from him. This time you succeeded only enough to make it a couple of steps but without him there to keep you stable you fell forward. If Zoro hadn’t been there you would have landed face first into the pavement but he caught you swiftly around the waist and lifted you to settle you over his shoulder, deciding that this way of carrying you was the best option. “Definitely not Zoro.” You weakly grumbled into his back as he began walking again.

“Oh yeah, why’re you so sure of that?” He asked, deciding to at least play along.

“You’re too grumpy…” You explained and added as you fell unconscious. “Zoro’s grumpy but he’s a sweetheart. My sweetheart.” Immediately the back of his neck heated and he froze in place but he couldn’t say or do anything else because thankfully Chopper, Usopp and Nami appeared to regroup and find Luffy. Zoro quickly explained to Chopper that you’d been hit by something but offered no further details.

“Did you get hit too, Zoro? You’re looking really red.” Chopper asked in concern. Quickly Zoro cleared his throat and shrugged as he laid you on the ground so Chopper could treat you.

“Uh yeah, might have been. Don’t worry about it though.”

2K notes · View notes

mrs-kmikaelson · 11 months ago

Text

Our Song and Dance⁴

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader Summary: You'd grown used to dancing the same dance over and over again, the victor's dance, but then you start dancing with Finnick Odair and you feel things you never thought you'd feel. So you let yourself enjoy the dance, even though you knew that every song inevitably came to an end. Warnings: LONGGGG, descriptions of torture, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, violence, exploitation of minors, mentions of forced prostitution, very complicated relationships, complex mental health issues, death, grief, and some unhealthy coping mechanisms Words: 18.2K

Masterlist | Part 5

a/n: since it's that time of year, i decided to give u guys a lil present. merry christmas and enjoy!!!

You had never felt so cold.

Growing up in a working home, you sometimes went through winter just hoping that your sheets would be enough to keep you alive, unable to afford a heater. In your first Games, you nearly froze to death, your matches being the only thing that saved you. Then once you had won and made it to the Capitol, you went through those cold nights with Finnick, sometimes hoping that you really would freeze to death, even if you never told him that.

Yet none of those times could compare to how cold you felt now.

Cold as you were brought out of the Capitol. Cold on the hovercraft. Cold when they sedated you. Cold as you were wrapped in blankets. Cold as Finnick went to touch you. And now, as the doctors examined you like you were an artifact, you were still just as cold.

But you were an artifact, weren’t you? You were the Princess.

So it didn’t really matter how cold you were at all.

You had been transported from the open medical area to your own room. It was almost like you blinked and, just like that, you were in a different room. Like magic.

Even though magic did not exist. Not in Panem. Not in this world.

Someone named Boggs had come to see you, explaining that you were in district 13, a district that you thought didn’t exist for your entire life. This is the revolution, he said. He was meant to bring you up to speed, ease your confusion, but you weren’t sure that was possible at the moment.

Throughout his explanation, you didn’t say a word, just staring up at him. This may have been seen as rude, but you weren’t doing it on purpose. You really didn’t know what to say.

He eventually left, not getting anywhere with you. From what you could tell, he had a lot more to deal with than just one girl. For a supposedly dead district, there was a lot going on in 13, but that wasn’t where your mind was.

Your body was in 13, but your mind was in the Capitol.

“Please, don’t-”

You closed your eyes, trying to rid yourself of these memories, but that only made it worse, images appearing underneath your eyelids. Your eyes quickly snapped open, darting around the room, your chest rapidly falling and rising.

You were in a bed. There was a desk, some chairs, a glass of water on the night stand next to you. The floor was white, tiled, not grey concrete. There were lights. You were in 13, where the lights were on, not in the Capitol, surrounded by darkness.

You’re alive, Y/N, you told yourself. But that didn’t seem to make anything better.

When did it ever?

You ran your hands up and down your arms, feeling new scars that hadn’t been there before, scars that could maybe heal one day, but you knew there were still open wounds you had that couldn’t be treated, open wounds that may never scar at all.

You didn’t think the wounds you had right now would ever close.

Your heart was racing, beating so loudly that you could hear it, so you imagined it wasn’t yours at all, that it was Finnick’s heart that you heard. Though you supposed that your heart did belong to him.

Even though you didn’t want to see him.

Nevertheless, imagining him sitting with you and pretending to listen to his heartbeat was what calmed you down. It always would. In a way, that was the only thing about you that remained sure, the only thing you had left from the life you lived.

Because that’s what it was: a life lived. Y/N Y/L/N lived her life. For a time, she was happy. She fell in love. And then she died. Now… now, you didn’t know who you were.

What you did know was that you weren’t the same Y/N that Finnick knew, the same Y/N who’d fall asleep in his arms. Now, you weren’t sure you could fall asleep at all, not for long, never for long.

Johanna and Peeta’s faces flashed through your mind. Their screams still echoed in your head. They were different now, too. Johanna wasn’t so fearless anymore, and the golden boy wasn’t so golden. His bright gold had been captured by darkness, and you weren’t sure if any of you would ever see it again.

At that thought, you finally got up, ignoring the ache in your bones. You couldn’t just sit there. You couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t eat. You couldn’t think anymore- you wouldn’t. You had to see them.

You left your room, a nurse coming up to you right away. “Ma’am, please, you need to rest-”

“I’m fine.” Your voice was raspy and scratched at your throat, so you cleared it. You didn’t know what you looked like, but you knew it couldn’t have been great with the way the nurse was looking at you. “Could you please take me to my friend Johanna?”

Hesitance was painted all over her face, as well as fear. You didn’t know why; you weren’t in any position to fight. “I’m sorry, I- I can’t-”

You cut her off. “I just want to see my friend.” Annoyance laced your voice, but if one listened closely, they’d also hear the desperation. You needed to see her, you needed to see someone familiar, someone that wasn’t there just because you were their responsibility, someone that wasn’t the boy you loved.

Her mouth opened and closed for several seconds before she responded, “I- she’s with a counsellor right now-”

You sharply inhaled, blinking and seeing Johanna, hearing her cry. When you opened your eyes again, you only saw the nurse staring at you anxiously, expectantly. You ran a hand through your hair. You needed to see someone. “Peeta then,” you said. “Take me to Peeta.”

Her fright seemed to increase. She looked at you like you weren’t in your right mind, which was right, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. There was something else in her expression, like there was something you didn’t know, something she didn’t want to tell you, but she nodded, anyway, agreeing.

This nurse was young, kind, and even a little naive. If you were in your right mind, you’d feel more empathy for her, be more compassionate or soft, but you weren’t. Your mind was in all of the wrong places all at once.

She reminded you of the nurse you had in the Capitol. She wasn’t there to ease your pain but to keep you alive, make sure you didn’t bleed to death so that you could go through the whole routine all over again the next day. She looked at you like that, too, like she was scared of you, even though you were the one that was powerless, even though you were the one on the brink of death.

Now you weren’t. You’re safe now, Boggs had told you. You didn’t say anything in that moment, but what you wanted to say was that he was wrong.

You’d never feel safe again.

When the nurse brought you to Peeta, Katniss was also there, but she didn’t notice you, staring through the glass of a white room. There was a blond boy in that room, strapped down to the bed.

But this boy wasn’t Peeta.

He wasn’t Peeta at all.

“Y/N?”

You turned away from the sight in front of you to the voice that called your name. The voice belonged to none other than Haymitch Abernathy, victor of the 50th Hunger Games and second Quarter Quell, but you knew him better as the man who drank his sorrows away until he couldn’t remember all that’d happened to him.

You nodded in greeting, but didn’t speak. He looked like he had more he wanted to say but held it in as he glanced back at the room, a young blonde girl entering it and carefully going to sit on the bed.

“She’s too close,” he remarked.

“It’s okay,” someone else responded. You turned and saw a greying man on the other side of Katniss, recognizing him immediately as opposed to when you first met him. Plutarch Heavensbee.

You glanced to Haymitch who was already looking at you. He glanced at the Gamemaker then nodded to you. Whatever he was trying to say didn’t fully translate, and you didn’t understand why this man who had caused so much pain was standing right next to Katniss like it was nothing, but for now, you still remained silent, choosing to let it be.

Throughout this interaction, Katniss had practically been none the wiser, eyes fixed on the inside of that room. When you redirected your attention to the scene, you realized why she was so focused. You still recognized the blonde girl from the reaping, even though it’d been over a year since they took place.

Primrose Everdeen.

Yet little Primrose never went into The Games. Her sister took her place. This was Katniss’ sister.

We live in district 13 now, she told him, her voice soft, soft enough to tell you that even though she was surrounded by war, her childhood was still there. It’s a real place. Stories are true. A pause. You were rescued.

Peeta didn’t look fazed by what she was saying, his attention on something else entirely. The look in his eyes was contained, but you saw it. Anger. My family hasn’t come to see me, he said, but he was talking to himself more than he was talking to Prim.

Family.

You saw your mother’s face in your mind, but you weren’t sure if that was still what she looked like. The last time you saw her was a year ago, her face stricken with grief, tears leaking from her eyes.

She hadn’t come to see you, either.

And you realized it was probably for the same reason Peeta’s family hadn’t come to see him.

At that realization, anything else Peeta or Prim said fell upon deaf ears. You couldn’t hear a thing, your song playing in your head on a loop, dancing so fast that the world blurred and you couldn’t see a thing.

Dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing-

“Y/N.”

The call of your name cut through the music, making you turn your head to see Katniss staring at you. You glanced around; Haymitch and Plutarch were gone now, so was Prim. It was just Peeta on the other side of the glass, kicking and yelling, people in scrubs going to sedate him.

You actually looked at her now, noticing the purple marks around her neck that matched the bags underneath her eyes. She looked different now, different from the last time you saw her in person and different from when you saw her on TV.

The Girl on Fire looked like her spark had been extinguished.

And, suddenly, she reminded you of yourself now more than ever.

You nodded to her and then turned to walk away, but her hand caught your wrist. Like a reflex, you yanked it away, spinning around to face her. She muttered a sorry under her breath, making you inhale.

“It’s fine,” you replied, your voice quiet. She couldn’t be blamed for how you could no longer handle touch, neither could Finnick. You felt guilt wash over you as you heard his voice cracking in your head, remembering how you didn’t say a word to him.

He’s fine, you told yourself. He has Annie.

Your thoughts were diverted away from him and back to Katniss as she spoke. “Has anyone explained it all to you yet?” This was a question, even though her voice was monotone while she asked it.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, thinking back to Boggs. “Yeah- um, a little.”

She looked at you like you were a puzzle and she was rearranging the pieces in her head, using what little energy she had. “Did they tell you?”

You furrowed your brows. You were just as if not more tired than her, your mind all over the place, too all over the place to understand what she was asking you. “Tell me what?” You questioned.

She didn’t respond right away, still looking at you as if she was trying to figure you out. Her eyes told you this story; however, her expression was blank. You’d seen snippets of her videos, not in full, never in full, but even from a snippet, you were able to see that look.

The way a victor looked.

When you met Katniss, you thought to yourself that she hadn’t been under the spotlight long enough to have been burned.

But with the spotlight they had on her now, she’d gone up in flames.

After a beat, she ceased her mental debate and decided to speak her thoughts. “I think we should talk.”

And she may not have known it, but what she told you may have just changed the course of your life.

Katniss took you to her room, sat you down, and with her raspy voice, she explained your situation to you. I’m The Mockingjay, she said. And they wanted you, too, Y/N. They wanted the Princess of Panem and The Mockingjay to be the voices of this revolution.

You stared at her wordlessly as she went on, just listening. To her, you must have looked crazy, listening to everything she said without any reaction whatsoever, but you knew that Katniss had been dancing long enough now to read you, too.

You were mind-blown. She was telling you that they wanted you to be a voice for the people, but wasn’t that so ironic? Your voice had been on mute for years. You were silent as you were used in the Capitol. You were silent as they made you go back and take everything from kids, kids just like you. Even when you thought you were about to die and had so many things to say to the boy that you loved, you didn’t say any of it.

How could you ever be a voice?

They chose the wrong person. Katniss was good. She was good at being The Mockingjay, good at saying the right things, and great at being a voice for Panem. But you? You weren’t cut out for this.

Why would she tell you this? This revolution had been well-planned and was proceeding fine without you. Why would she tell you this- why now?

You cut her off mid-sentence. “Katniss, what exactly are you trying to tell me?”

She paused as if she didn’t know the answer, either. Her red eyes glazed over and, for a few seconds, you both sat in silence. You thought she wouldn’t say anything until she looked back up at you. This time, her eyes were full of light, like she’d just realized she held the key to all she ever wanted, all you ever wanted.

And, in a way, she did.

“Hope,” she breathed. “I’m telling you that I have hope for a better world.”

A better world.

Once, you had hopes, too. You hoped that your kids would make it through The Games. You hoped that you could be loved back by the person you loved. You hoped that you could one day mend your relationship with your mother. You hoped that you could be happy.

But each of these hopes were crushed until nothing remained but disappointment.

You didn’t have any hope left.

After Katniss’ declaration, you sat silently before eventually leaving without saying a word.

She was so young. Sometimes, you forgot that. She wasn’t a child, but she was supposed to be. She was supposed to have a childhood, not the weight of a country resting on her shoulders.

But you’d carried the weight of the crown for years now.

You knew better.

You abandoned the idea of hope as soon as you dived off that pedestal in The Games, and then it abandoned you for good the second you woke up in the Capitol.

There wasn’t any hope left, not for you.

You got back to your room, ignoring your nurse who opened her mouth to speak to you but ultimately didn’t say anything, letting the door close in her face. It wasn’t personal. There were too many different people on your mind to think about her, so many words you said and didn’t say floating around, things you did and what was done to you.

You didn’t want to be awake anymore, to think about these things. Sometimes, nightmares offered more relief than your real life ever could.

But as you went to go lie down, you suddenly stopped, seeing something on your bed that hadn’t been there before. It was a sleek black box, one that wasn’t so common back where you were from but became an everyday custom after you won The Games. You picked up, clicking the side button and watching light shoot of it and project an image in front of you.

For a moment, you could’ve sworn your heart stopped.

Because that image that the box projected was of Finnick Odair.

It was a video shot here, in 13, similar to others you’d seen, but you’d never seen this. This was the first time you saw him on camera since before the Quell. And this was also the first time you’d looked into his eyes since you left that night.

Even if you weren’t really looking at him.

Finnick was always charming, the corners of his lips always quirked upward. He had mastered this façade- oh, Finnick knew how to dance, dance around all of the hard topics, dance around everything that was wrong with your lives to make you seem like the perfect happy couple, like victors.

But he didn’t look like that in the video.

He looked solemn. And maybe even a little scared.

No matter his appearance, you could’ve never expected the words that came out of his mouth, never from Finnick, never from one of you, from a victor. But he still said them.

Your mouth fell open. For the first time since you arrived in 13, you let tears fall down your cheeks, though you didn’t know if you could stop them, even if you tried. They burned on their way down, rubbing salt into the bruises you could see and the bruises you could never fix.

May the odds be ever in your favour, darling.

The box in your hands clattered to the ground, the video cutting out as you ran to the toilet, but Finnick’s voice still echoed in your ears. You threw up what very little you had eaten, head spinning.

Dancing, dancing, dancing.

This song didn’t sound right anymore. This dance didn’t feel right anymore. You were so tired of dancing- you just wanted to stop.

But Finnick hadn’t stopped at all.

Finnick was still dancing. Katniss was still dancing. Peeta, Johanna, every single person in Panem was now dancing with you. They knew now. They could hear the music, too. And who would save them?

You had wished for years and years that someone would pull you off the dance floor, that someone would make it stop. There were so many people that knew, so many people that just let you endure it- let you all endure it. How could you let any more people endure anything close to that?

You couldn’t stand on the sidelines and watch as everything burned to the ground. No, you wanted to help them set fire to the Capitol and burn Snow alive.

Hope. I’m telling you that I have hope for a better world.

You may not have had this hope. There was no better world out there for you.

But you’d be damned if you didn’t try to make one for every kid out there that cried and prayed their name didn’t get called at the reapings.

You would not get to live in this better world.

But you would make it in memory of the younger you that could have.

You later found Katniss again, telling her that you’d do it. You left out the part about how you sobbed for hours at the recording you knew she left you because that wasn’t what was important right now. You were not important right now.

This was about something much bigger.

She took you to Coin, who cleared the room at the sight of you, a surprised expression on her face. “Ms. Y/L/N, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She stood up, shaking your hand, glancing at Katniss periodically before looking back to you. “I’m sorry I couldn’t visit you sooner-”

“It’s alright,” you cut her off, trying your best to pull your lips into a smile. You had barely been in the room with her for a few seconds, but there was something about this woman that threw you off.

Katniss explained her story to you, how she was a widow, how her entire family died in a day. You sympathized with that, but Alma Coin did not remind you of a widow in the slightest.

She reminded you of the people you saw in the Capitol.

Clearly, she sensed the tension, giving you a smile and letting go of your hand, beckoning you both to sit. You sat down in the chair across from her, surveying the room, looking at the blueprints and papers sprawled everywhere. Your attention was drawn back to the woman when she spoke.

“So, how may I help you? I know adjusting to life here must be hard for you. But I will be here every step of the if you so need it.” You opened your mouth to speak, but she kept going, “You are an incredibly strong young woman. I cannot imagine what it must have been like to live through those Games, nor could I imagine what it must have been like within the walls of the Capitol.”

No, you couldn’t, you thought, but you didn’t say that. Instead, you gave her a stiff smile, hoping that all your practice faking it could make it look believable. It seemed that President Coin had some practice faking it, too.

However, you cut straight to the point. “Madam President, I want to help the rebels in any way that I can.”

Her mouth fell open slightly, as if that was the last thing she was expecting. She looked to Katniss again, like you were out of it. And maybe you were, but so was The Girl on Fire. So were all of you.

It wasn’t fair of her to treat you like glass because, the truth was, she was right. You went through The Games not once but twice, and then you were immediately thrown into the Capitol, facing horrors that you weren’t sure you could ever speak aloud, horrors that flashed before your eyes every time you blinked, even as you sat across from her.

But you were. You were sitting across from her. You were ready to do something.

You may have just been pulled from the Devil’s clutches, but you were ready to walk through Hell all over again if it meant you got to kill him.

Katniss didn’t waver. “So do I.”

Coin’s hesitance was easier than expected to spot. For someone who wanted to lead Panem, she surely wore her heart on her sleeve. Or maybe you had just gotten too good at this dance that you could spot anyone’s slightest misstep.

Slowly, she cautioned, “You both are going through a lot right now-”

The brunette sharply cut her off, “That doesn’t matter.” Your eyes were trained on Coin, but if you stole a glance at Katniss, then you knew you would’ve seen the fire in her eyes. In a way, she hadn’t changed at all since the last time you saw her.

And you wished that was true.

“Send me to the Capitol- send us to the Capitol.” Underneath her demand was pleading. “I’ll do anything.”

Coin brought her hand to her mouth, an indent on her finger where her ring was supposed to be yet no ring in sight. “I can’t.” But she wanted to. “I can’t send you there. We can’t get into the Capitol until we control district 2.”

“Then send us to 2,” you spoke up, her eyes moving to yours. There was some emotion in her eyes, pity or fear, you couldn’t tell, but you didn’t want to know what you looked like to find out. “I can fire up your troops, call out to the loyalists. You’ve seen what The Mockingjay can do, and I don’t doubt that you know what I am capable of.” You paused. “Let us win this for you, Madam President.”

She was silent for a moment, continuing to stare at you as if she was waiting for you to break, to do something that showed her that you weren’t capable of this, but she wouldn’t get that opening. You wanted this more than anything, and you would stop at nothing to get it.

Finally, she blinked, and you knew you had her.

“It would be an honour.”

You didn’t tell Katniss, and you certainly didn’t tell Coin, but a part of you was relieved that you weren’t going back to the Capitol so soon. You just left, and yet it felt like it had both been a world ago and just yesterday.

You didn’t know if you could handle it so soon, going back there. You could barely even handle looking at Finnick.

It wasn’t his fault. It was never his fault. You could never blame him, never for this.

How could you blame him when picturing his face was what got you through it?

How could you blame him when the only reason you survived was to find out if he was still alive?

They told you he was dead. They played his screams on a loop until you couldn’t tell that they stopped. His screams now blended in with the music so well.

Oh, you loved him. You loved him so much more than you could ever express. And maybe that’s why you never told him, but now you knew it was for the best. Finnick was strong, and beautiful, and he had a long life ahead of him with the woman of his dreams. You weren’t gonna get in the way of that.

You knew that you’d never truly be happy without him.

But you also knew from experience that he’d never be happy with you.

These were the thoughts that filled your head on the hovercraft. Even as he was nowhere in sight, his face was still all you could see.

He was here, too. You knew he was. Katniss told you beforehand. She didn’t know the whole story between you two, but she still told you. She had no idea how grateful you were.

You were hiding from him. You accepted the fact that the two of you would never get a happy ending, but that didn’t mean that you were ready to see him, knowing that. If you looked into his ocean blue eyes, God knew that he’d only pull you in and drown you in them.

You couldn’t do that.

It wasn’t fair to him.

It wasn’t fair to Annie.

It wasn’t fair to you.

And it wasn’t fair to all the people that were depending on you.

Suddenly, your thoughts were cut off the sound of footsteps came your way. You looked up, letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you saw it was just Haymitch.

He nodded to you. “Princess.”

You held back a scoff as he sat down next to you on the floor. “Haymitch.”

You still remembered when you met him. He was one of the first people to actually speak to you after you won your Games. For some reason, the others were too “intimidated” by you, but Haymitch didn’t have much left to be scared of, not when he went into an arena with 47 people and was the only one who walked out.

What you couldn’t remember was the last time you had an actual conversation with him, or at least the last time you had a conversation and he was sober.

“How’d you find me?” you asked, but your eyes were still trained on the floor. He didn’t seem to mind.

“I hang around here sometimes, go through the boxes and see if there’s anything medicinal in ‘em,” he responded, making you chuckle.

If he was looking for something medicinal, then you weren’t such a great replacement.

“Well, sorry you couldn’t find what you were looking for.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shake his head. “No, I need to be brought back to reality, anyway. And you, uh, you do a good job at that.”

You snorted, sensing the compliment was backhanded, even if he didn’t see it that way. Or maybe he did, but Haymitch was never one to hold his thoughts in. “Why, because I’m so fucked up?”

“No.” A beat of silence passed. “Because you remind me of a human’s will to live better than those Games ever did.”

You finally looked up, seeing that he was already looking at you. The sincerity in his eyes was so strong that it burned into yours, making you look away before it burned just enough to spark tears. “I don’t think I’m the best example of that.”

His reply came quick, like he didn’t even have to think about it, but he had no idea how much you would after he said it. “You’re still standing, aren’t you?”

Aren’t you?

You didn’t say anything after that, nor did you look at him, and he didn’t force you to. You spent the rest of the ride pondering over his words.

You thought of every painful thing you ever went through. The Hunger Games. Being sold. The Quarter Quell. The Capitol. Falling in love.

You went through all that, and you were still here. You were still standing.

Weren’t you?

Or were you just waiting for the right moment to fall?

Your thoughts were halted as you felt the hovercraft come to a stop, realizing just how long you’d been thinking. You both stood up, going to leave this room. Like most real conversation you’d had with victors, you thought you both would just pretend it never happened, but right before you were about to enter the main ops room, he stopped you, grabbing your wrist. This time, you stopped the flinch before it could happen, looking up at him.

Haymitch Abernathy was not a soft man. After being cut so many times, his edges were jagged and sharp, but looking at you in that moment, he looked more than just soft. He looked sorry.

He hesitated, like he wasn’t sure to say what he wanted to say or not, something unusual for him. He seemed to have made up his mind, telling you, “Stay standing, Y/N. There are still people out there that can’t do that by themselves.” Then he paused, eyes glazing over.

“Show them that they can.”

Getting off the hovercraft, damage surrounded you. The once pristine nature of district 2 was gone, replaced by devastation, rubble everywhere. If this was district 2, then you couldn’t imagine that any of the other districts were any better, that your district was any better.

Your mind was drawn back to your mother before you shook it away. You couldn’t be thinking of that right now.

A man in black attire carrying an assault rifle greeted you. Not a Peacekeeper. But a chill still went down your spine.

You couldn’t really tell if it was because of the soldier or if it was because you felt Finnick staring at you.

He wasn’t far behind you, in the row behind you and Katniss with Boggs and Gale. You tried to ignore it, but that proved to be harder said than done.

Katniss carried her bow in her hand while a sword was strapped to your belt, lightly hitting your leg as you walked, but you got used to this feeling during your first Games. In a way, it was almost comforting, even though it never should’ve been, even though weapons should’ve never been comforting to a child so young.

But you weren’t a child anymore.

In your hand, you carried a crossbow, Beetee’s special arrows on your back. The sword was really only there for show. This wasn’t The Hunger Games; no, this was a very different and special game entirely.

This was war.

You wouldn’t be getting up close for combat very often, so a crossbow made more sense, but after The Games, weapons started to hold sentimental value, both for the victors and the viewers that watched them. For Katniss, it was her bow; for Finnick, it was his trident; and for you, it was your sword.

Suddenly, as you were making your way to the Justice Building, a bomb went off, shaking the ground and making you spin, your grip on your bow tightening. Your heart was beating rapidly, but Corporal Homes wasn’t fazed, even letting out a little laugh. “Don’t worry. It’s just how the loyalists say good morning.”

You let out a shaky breath, holding the bow tighter to try and stop your hands from trembling. You shut your eyes, trying to calm down, but all that did was bring you right back to the Capitol. Your eyes quickly reopened, but when they did, they met those ocean blues that you’d been trying to avoid.

Your body went rigid. It begged you to look away, but you couldn’t. You were pulled to him like a magnet, a magnet that scraped against you, a magnet that nearly stopped your heart with how strong it was, but no matter how much it hurt you, fighting against it was useless.

Concern swam through his eyes, along with another familiar emotion you couldn’t pinpoint. It had been so long since you last saw him, since you last really saw him. Maybe that was why you couldn’t decipher it.

But, really, it felt like no time had passed at all.

“Are you okay?” God, and his voice. How was it possible that his voice could both fill and create a hole in your heart at the same time? It was both quiet and loud, both sure and uncertain, and caring in every sense of the word.

So warm but made you feel so cold at the same time.

You just looked at him for a few seconds, as if you were hypnotized, until you realized you needed to respond. You nodded, afraid that your voice would crack if you tried to speak.

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but a hand came to your shoulder, yanking you out of trance. You turned to see Katniss, glancing between you both for a second before her eyes rested on you. She nodded towards the building and the rest of the crew who had walked ahead of you. You nodded back, walking away from Finnick without another word.

How did we get here? you wondered.

We’re gonna be fine. Look, whenever you get nervous up there, you just hold my hand, alright? You’re not alone in this, okay? I’m right here.

He was right there. He was still right there.

But the difference between then and now was that you could no longer just hold his hand.

He was right there.

But you were still alone.

Once you had put some distance between yourselves and Finnick, Katniss whispered, “I’m sorry.” You turned your head, but her eyes were directed in front of her. “That looked personal.”

“No, it’s fine,” you assured her, and then you left it at that. Because, truth be told, you were grateful for Katniss interrupting you. You weren’t sure you would’ve ever walked away if she hadn’t. But you did. And now you had bigger problems to worry about than your love life, if you could even call it that.

You finally made it into the Justice Building, being greeted by both Commander Lyme and Paylor. While they lived in higher ranks, they were still soldiers. You appreciated how they cut right to the chase.

You and your squad from 13 stood around a table projecting a hologram of district 2’s mountains with at least a dozen other soldiers, more littered throughout the room with Coin on a TV in front of you.

Lyme started, “President Coin, we’re indebted to you for the reinforcements, the Princess, and the Mockingjay.” She glanced at you. “But I’m not sure that anyone outside of 2 knows what we’ve been up against.” She pointed at the hologram. “This is The Nut. The Capitol’s headquarters for all offensive operations. It’s manned by both military and civilian personnel from district 2.” She then continued to explain what all more or less knew, that it lied so deep beneath bedrock that it was untouchable.

“Yesterday, we attempted to take the northeastern gate. The enemy countered from higher up and we were forced to pull back.” She momentarily looked down, her mask of a stone cold commander falling and showing the human behind it. “We took heavy losses.”

Another commander spoke up. “Could we create a decoy? Send troops towards one gate, launch a staggered attack on another.”

Paylor didn’t miss a beat. “Whose troops do you propose as a decoy, Commander?”

Although the question was not directed towards her, Coin still responded, “We have the Mockingjay and we have the Princess of Panem. Do not underestimate their influence. We could use them to erode support, sway some of the loyalists.”

“You’ve been underground a long time, Madam Coin,” Lyme said. “This isn’t like the rest of Panem. Support for the Capitol runs deep here.” And why wouldn’t it? When the oppressor had done just about everything but oppress you, then how could you see the oppression happening everywhere else?

Coin quickly retorted, “Then there is no sacrifice too great.” Her voice was like that of a widow: soft enough that you could tell what she’d been through but firm enough for the exact same reason.

No sacrifice too great… but wasn’t there?

“We need to control the arsenal inside that fortress. Even with every district in this alliance, we are outgunned.” All twelve other districts could band together, but without 2, none of you stood a chance.

No sacrifice too great.

“I won’t commit my people to a ground assault just to pillage weapons.”

“Commander Paylor, your people have suffered more than just about anyone else at the hands of the Capitol.”

“Which is why I won’t condone a mass suicide.”

“If we don’t take district 2, we won’t get into the Capitol.”

For the first time since your entrance, you spoke up. “What if we don’t have to take it?” You felt everyone’s eyes on you but yours remained focused on the hologram in front of you, unblinking as if you weren’t there at all.

And maybe you weren’t.

Lyme responded, “What are you proposing, Ms. Y/L/N?”

What were you proposing? You couldn’t be sure. But you knew what you needed, and that was this war ending in Snow’s final breath.

No sacrifice too great.

“What if we don’t need The Nut to win?” You looked up. “What if we could take it away from them instead?”

Gale seemed to be the only one who caught onto what you were saying, or at least the only one willing to speak it aloud. “We could disable it, trap them inside or flush ‘em out.” He continued, gesturing the hologram. “If we can’t attack straight on, then couldn’t we use our hovercraft to strike around it? We’ll use the mountains; we’ll hit weak spots in the peaks.”

“We could design the bomb targets in sequence using seismic data.”

“Trigger avalanches,” you muttered just above a whisper, imagining it in your head. Something like this happened in The Games once, one of the years you were mentoring. It was catastrophic, akin to a bloodbath. It was a miracle there was even anyone left alive to fight for a victor’s title.

You wondered if Finnick thought of this, too, but you didn’t dare look over at him, looking back to hologram and trying to block the images of blood and terror from your mind.

But as you stood there and spoke about war, you didn’t know if that was possible.

Not when the war in your mind had still yet to be won.

“Block all exits, cut off their supplies. You make it impossible for them to launch their hovercraft.”

Paylor had a look of realization on her face. “Bury them alive.”

“We’d forfeit any chance to control the weapons-”

Beetee cut Coin off, “Yes, but we’d face a weakened Capitol.”

“There’s civilians in there,” Boggs interjected, stoic but any hearing person could hear the compassion in his voice. Civilians. Is that what they were?

You were a civilian too, once. Then you were a tribute, a pawn, a victor, the Princess. Did civilians still exist? What kind of civilians could support the Capitol? What kind of human beings could support the torture you were subjected to, the torture people in the districts were subjected to on a daily basis?

You wondered if your mother was given the courtesy of a civilian before the Capitol took her life.

You weren’t.

“They should be given a chance to surrender. Could use one of the supply tunnels for the evacuees.”

“It’s a luxury we weren’t given when they firebombed 12,” Gale said, as if he were reminding you, as if any of you needed a reminder.

“There’s gotta be a better way.” You were already so focused, but if you were losing attention in any way, Katniss brought it back, the disbelief in her voice audible to everyone in the room. She glanced in between Gale and you, but she didn’t get whatever response she expected of you.

Katniss may have had hope for the good of humanity, but you didn’t have that. The Capitol took that away from you without a second thought. She may have been driven by hope, but you were driven by anger.

There was no sacrifice too great.

“I suggest we try the avalanche, but leave the train tunnel alone,” Coin decided. “Civilians can escape into the square, where our armies will be waiting for their surrender.”

“We should have every available medic standing by.”

“And if they won’t surrender?” Lyme challenged.

Coin’s lips almost formed a smile. “Then we will need a compelling voice to persuade them.” And a voice was something she had.

The Mockingjay and the Princess, two sides of the same coin. Heads or tails, luck was on the President’s side either way.

You tuned out after that, letting everyone else talk logistics. Throughout the entire conversation, you didn’t hear Finnick say a word. He was perhaps the most talkative person you had ever met, and yet now, he had nothing to say.

He only looked at you the whole time, like an artifact.

And even as you walked away, you still felt the cold burn of his stare.

You watched from a broken window of the Justice Building as the hovercrafts started, rubble blowing in the wind. The sight was magnetic, pulling you in to look at it. It was almost beautiful.

This world could’ve been beautiful.

You wished that this dance could have been more beautiful before it made your feet bleed.

You watched as the hovercrafts danced in the sky before dropping bombs on the mountains, dancing to the sound of explosions and then to the sound of cheers around you.

Dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing-

“This isn’t right.” A voice brought you out of your trance. You turned to see Katniss, her eyes on the scene outside the window, as mesmerized as you were. But mesmerized wasn’t the right word. She was stricken by horror.

Oh, if she saw what happened to you that could make you ever justify this. If she saw what happened to Peeta to make him hysteric. If she saw what happened to Johanna to make her numb. If she saw, then would she still be so transfixed then?

If she saw, would she still be standing?

If she saw, would she understand why you still were?

You stared at her for a moment, contemplating if you would say any of this before deciding against it, turning back and monotonously replying, “It’s fire catching, Everdeen.”

She scoffed, “And we’re lighting the match.”

Sharply, you countered, “Don’t forget that the Capitol poured gasoline everywhere first.” You turned back to see her already looking at you. A sigh left your lips. “They did this, Katniss.”

“And so anyone that had anything to do with it deserves to burn for it?”

No.

Yes.

“Did we deserve to burn, Girl on Fire?” You caught her off guard, anger slipping through the cracks of your voice, resolution filling your eyes. “Did we deserve to burn in those reapings, in those parades, in those damn Games as they all made a spectacle of it? All those kids and their families, did they deserve to burn just because the Capitol saw fit?” She was silent, tears coming to her eyes that she refused to let fall, so different from that girl you were with in the arena yet the exact same. Your eyes burned, too. “The way I see it, we’re fighting fire with fire.” You scoffed. “At least we’re giving them a way out.”

You didn’t stick around to hear Katniss’ response, walking away to find whoever would tell you what do next. You could’ve stood by that window for the rest of the night, watching as the terror unfolded, but you had more important things to do than watch the fire.

You had to go light a match.

You examined yourself in the mirror blankly. You were donning a black costume, and a costume it was. Because what was a costume if not an impersonation of something you were not?

But someone thought that this was what you were. Someone thought that you could be a leader. Cinna did—or at least that’s what Effie Trinket told you. You didn’t know why she seemed to be in charge of “design” or why she showed such an interest in you, but you supposed it wasn’t so unusual for an artifact.

Your makeup artists did their jobs fabulously, painting your face until you were almost unrecognizable, until you looked like that girl from before The Games, that girl that the people of Panem knew and loved. With this makeup, you couldn’t see the circles under your eyes, the discolouration of your face. They made you look alive again.

On the outside, at least.

On the inside, you weren’t sure if there was any makeup that could repair the damage that’d been done.

Your hair had been braided into an updo, like a crown. They tried to give you back your necklace, the one Finnick gave to you before The Games, but you never wanted to see that necklace again, never wanted to see a rose ever again.

You would hate the smell of roses for the rest of your life.

“It’s time.” You looked away from your reflection to see Haymitch standing at the door. You nodded to him, glancing back at the mirror one last time before exiting the room. Katniss fell into step with you both as you made your way toward the train tunnel, but remained silent. You didn’t speak, either.

Soon, you were joined by the rest of your Star Squad, but you avoided any and all eye contact with Finnick. It’d be a shame to cry and ruin all that beautiful makeup on your face.

It’d be a shame to feel something right now when you felt so numb.

But you’d quickly be feeling a lot.

“Don’t worry, Katniss. There’ll be survivors,” Boggs tried to reassure. She glanced at him, but didn’t respond.

Haymitch was more concentrated on what you came here to do. “Let’s focus on what it is you gotta say.” He looked in between both of you. “Now, Plutarch wrote a speech that either of you can read-”

“No,” you both simultaneously said, briefly glancing at each other.

Haymitch sighed, throwing the cards to the side. “Okay, didn’t think so. Let’s, uh…” he stopped you both, standing in front of you. “But just remember you’re talking to everybody. Not just the rebels, but the Capitol, the survivors in 2. We want them to lay down their arms. So you- both of you might wanna experiment with a little sensitivity, warmth.”

They have the upper-hand, that’s what he was really saying. But you understood how this worked. You’ve danced this dance a million times already.

“Don’t worry, Haymitch. I know how to fake it.” He looked over at you as if he wanted to say something, but Boggs spoke before he could.

“Make it quick, you’re exposed.”

Katniss walked toward the tunnel first, turning once she was far enough to face the rest of you. They decided that she would go first. She had been at this for a while now, much longer than you.

You’re lucky, you know.

How so?

You just are.

Maybe the Katniss Everdeen that you met in the training centre was lucky, but this one, the one who shot an arrow at the force field in the Quarter Quell, the one who became a symbol before she could even blink… you weren’t so sure that this one was so lucky. Not anymore. Not in this world.

Luck didn’t exist in this new world.

“This is Katniss Everdeen, speaking to all of the loyalists from the heart of district 2-”

“Survivors! Inbound!”

The sound of the train’s horn became audible to you, its wheels screeching against the train tracks. Boggs went running for Katniss while a hand grabbed your shoulder. This time, you couldn’t hold back the flinch.

“We need to go, Y/N.” And then your body went rigid.

That was your name.

That was your name coming from Finnick Odair.

You didn’t even notice when he moved so close to you.

You swallowed, nodding, but it was like your feet were cemented to ground. You couldn’t move. If you moved, if you turned around, then you’d be looking right into his eyes.

Oh, there was time when the only thing you wanted to do was stare into his eyes all day. And maybe the problem was that you still wanted to.

You closed your eyes, inhaling a shaky breath, and when you opened them, the survivors were jumping off the train, being forced down to the ground, guns pointed at them, loud noise everywhere. Suddenly, you couldn’t take your eyes off of what was happening, even as every bone in your body begged you to, even as your head spun.

Finnick’s hand was still on your shoulder, but neither of you moved. None of you did.

Another man jumped off, looking disoriented, but what drew your attention to him wasn’t his appearance but the gun in his hand. The grip on your shoulder got tighter.

“Drop it! Drop your weapon! You! Drop it,” Boggs shouted, aiming his machine gun at him as he moved in your direction. “Drop the gun! Drop it-”

Suddenly, a gun went off, and everyone was screaming. You ducked down, eyes frantically darting everywhere before they settled on Katniss, running towards him, yelling. Your eyes widened, a wave of déjà vu passing over you as you remembered this exact scenario in the Quell, Katniss running towards danger and you running after her.

And just like that, even though you were paralyzed by fear, you quickly shot up, running after her without a thought. “Katniss!”

“Y/N!”

“Stop! He needs help!” She screamed as you were about to reach her. The next moment happened too fast for you to grasp it, the man jabbing his gun at her chin and cocking it. You skidded to a stop where you were, your breath catching in your throat.

Boggs was shouting, but your ears rang. It was almost as if you could feel that barrel on your own skin, and maybe it was because you had.

Snow’s voice rang through your head, Tell me about the rebel plan, Y/N.

You’re gonna have to kill me first.

Oh, sweet girl. He had knelt down next to you. I will make you wish that you died in that arena.

The man’s voice shook you out of your daze. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t shoot you.”

“Drop the gun!”

Katniss was silent, staring right into his eyes, but you saw what was behind the brave façade she was putting on. She didn’t have a reason.

“She can’t.” His eyes went to you, widening as if he hadn’t realized you were there. You stepped forward, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. Inside, you were shaking, but on the outside, you were calm and collected. On the inside, you were just a tribute in this game, but on the outside, you were the victor that everyone had crowned you.

“We blew up your mine. But you burned her district to the ground- my district to the ground.” You stepped closer, your resolve hardening. “So I guess we both have every reason to want to kill each other, but, really, does that make sense?” You asked, not looking away from his eyes once. “You know who I am. You know who she is, and I can bet that you know a few of the people standing behind me. So many people that the Capitol has rooted for, that you have rooted for- why would we be doing this? After the riches, and the glitz, and the glamour, why would we fight back against a system that has supposedly given us everything?”

Because they took everything from you first.

You took another step closer, putting your hands up when he jabbed the gun in Katniss’ neck. “Look around you.” He quickly glanced around before his eyes fell back on you. “Are these the people you want to kill? The same people that you cheered for?” Slowly, your hands fell. “Why are you fighting us? Why are you fighting the rebels? You’re neighbours. You’re family.”

He looked up at you for a few seconds, but those seconds felt like hours. In his eyes, you could see evil, chaos. But you also a sliver of humanity, and you prayed to God that you reached past the chaos to the humanity. You prayed to whoever would listen that he heard you. And, maybe, for the first time, the universe was on your side, because his gun slowly lowered to the ground.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Katniss was stuck in a trance until you pulled her up, but you weren’t so focused on her. Your eyes panned over the people, your people and the loyalists alike, but they were all just people, you realized.

They were all just people.

“There is no our side or your side,” you yelled, backing away from the man and facing everyone. “There is only freedom and captivity. These people are not your enemy.” You turned, facing the rest of the crowd. “We all have one enemy. And that’s Snow.” Tears gathered in your eyes. “He does not care who you are or how loyal you are, how important you are—to him, we are all just pieces in a game.”

You pointed to your people behind you. “Katniss Everdeen, Haymitch Abernathy, Finnick Odair, Peeta Mellark, Annie Cresta, Johanna, Beetee, Enobaria- we are all that is left from three generations of victors. The rest of them are dead.” The faces of those that you killed flashed through your mind. “Slaughtered in the Quarter Quell or killed in the aftermath, it’s all the same. They were murdered by the Capitol—and it didn’t matter how important, or loyal, or loved they were- their lives were ended like they didn’t mean a thing.”

“And they would do the same to any of you if it benefit them.” You shook your head, raising your voice. “Stop killing for him.” You paused, breathing heavily. Your fight was not with people in the districts. Your fight was with one person and one person only. It was time that everyone else saw that. “Tonight, turn your weapons to the Capitol. Turn your weapons to Snow.”

Before you could say another word, gunfire erupted and you were falling to the ground.

And then your vision went black.

“Please, I don’t know anything,” you sobbed, fighting against your restraints, but it was no use.

Snow tutted, coming out from the shadows in which he hid. “Oh, Y/N, I wish I could believe that.”

Your body shook. “Please, I’m telling the truth, I don’t know anything about a revolution.”

“And yet all of your comrades did?”

You rapidly shook your head back and forth, worsening the pounding in your mind. They kept telling you about an uprising, but you didn’t know what they were talking about. They said you knew, but you didn’t know. They said that Katniss knew, that Peeta knew, that Johanna knew, that Finnick knew, but they couldn’t have.

You didn’t know.

You didn’t know where they were.

You prayed that Finnick was safe, but if he wasn’t, then you prayed that he was dead. You’d rather him be dead than ever face what you were facing now.

“They didn’t. I didn’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Snow looked at you silently for a few moments, and you had no idea what he was thinking. Then brought his hand up. You flinched, but his hand only went to your hair, petting it. The look in his eyes was almost something like pity, you realized, but it wasn’t real. You didn’t know how long you’d been there, wherever you were, but in the time you there, you learned that President Snow was incapable of sympathy.

You even thought that he enjoyed this.

“Oh, my dear princess… I would’ve hoped that you would’ve learned to be honest with me by now,” he sighed, and then he took his hand away and looked away from you altogether, looking to the Peacekeeper that’d moved to the wall. “Again. And let’s be a little more… effective this time.” He moved to walk away, and you shook your head.

“No, no- please don’t- please, please- no- no!”

You shot up, panting, your hands digging into blankets. Your eyes darted around the room and you realized you were back in your bed in the medical centre. A hand was placed over yours and you immediately shuffled away, your eyes going to the person and meeting blue, concerned orbs.

Finnick held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me.” Your chest still rapidly fell up and down, but for some reason his presence calmed you down and put you into a panic all at the same time.

Only Finnick could do that to you.

You closed your eyes, blinking the remnants of your nightmare away, even if that nightmare wasn’t a nightmare but rather just the life you so happened to live. You’re here, Y/N. You’re alive.

But why?

“How am I alive?” you croaked, looking down at the dull bed sheets instead of into his eyes. It was funny: you looked down to avoid the blue of his eyes, but the colour of these sheets was so similar.

What’s your favourite colour?

It’s blue, not really dark or light either. Sort of green- it’s close to grey, too.

Now that colour just made you want to cry.

Finnick didn’t say anything for a moment, as if he was shocked that you were even speaking to him. And you were, too. You hadn’t spoken to him in weeks, and if you went back to the last time you spoke, back in the arena, you would’ve never thought that this was how it would turn out. Even if you went back to just your first days in the Capitol, you still could’ve never imagined a reality where you didn’t speak to Finnick.

But you could’ve never imagined any of this happening in the first place.

If you went back to the night you met him, you could’ve never imagined how deeply you’d fall for this boy.

And you never could’ve imagined how much it’d hurt when you hit the ground.

Finnick’s voice was low when he finally spoke. “You were shot back in 2. But the bullets were stopped by your costume. Cinna made sure that it was bulletproof.”

Cinna.

The way people spoke about him, in the past tense, the way you hadn’t seen him anywhere. You’d figured that he was dead.

You wondered how many more people would die for this revolution before you could all be free.

“The doctor says you sustained minor injuries, bruised rib, bruised lung. But nothing worse than the injuries you came back from the Capitol with.” At that, you turned your head to face him, meeting his eyes immediately. His eyes were soft but almost hard. He was almost looking at you the same way he did after you volunteered for Annie. In his eyes, you saw care, confusion, sadness, some anger, and emotions you couldn’t name, but most of all, you could see the pure exhaustion weighing him down.

He stared at you for a few seconds, or maybe a few minutes, maybe longer than that—time didn’t seem to exist. “Why would you do that, Y/N?” He whispered. And in that moment, you knew you weren’t talking to the Prince of Panem, the victor of The 65th Hunger Games, or the soldier who wanted to build a better world.

You were just talking to Finnick.

And that scared you.

Your breath hitched.

Why would you do that?

Finn-

Why would you volunteer?

Because you had to.You volunteered for Annie because you had to, the same way you did what you just did because you had to. To you, there was no choice, only one path to follow.

“I did what I was meant to do, Finnick.” Even as you willed it not to, your body betrayed you, your voice cracking on his name, but this time, you kept eye contact. And even though you were talking to Finnick, the Finnick that held you at night and soothed you when you cried, your Finnick, he was not talking to Y/N, not the Y/N that he held and soothed.

That Y/N could not talk to Finnick, not this Finnick.

If she did, you didn’t know if you’d ever get her back again.

He was shaking his head before you even finished speaking. “No, you could’ve died.” I’m already dead.

“But I didn’t.” But I did.

“But you almost did!” You flinched as his hands went up in the air, and then he froze, freezing you with him. You flinched. You flinched like he was gonna hit you, and he saw that. You cursed yourself immediately, wishing you could take it back as the look that encompassed his eyes became hurt.

There were few times when Finnick ever looked at you like that, and you could remember each as if they just happened. You never wanted to see that look on his face again, to be the reason for that look.

Time stopped again. You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to apologize, but you couldn’t find the words. And before you could, time picked back up. Finnick’s hands fell down to the bed, and he looked away from you, lowering his voice. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/N.”

Tears welled in your eyes. He didn’t know what he was saying. “You could have the world at your fingertips, Finnick.”

“There is no world for me if you’re not in it.” He looked back at you. And you couldn’t tell if your imagination was playing tricks on you, but you could’ve sworn there were tears in his eyes, too. “You’re my world, Y/N.” And just like that, any hope you had of remaining invulnerable shattered and the dam you were trying to hold in your eyes broke, tears falling down your face.

You shook your head, silent sobs wracking your body. Did he have any idea the effect he had on you? Did he have any idea what he was doing to you? “Why are you saying these things?”

Something akin to a scoff left his lips. “Because it’s true-”

“No- no, they’re not-”

Finnick latched onto your hand, making you look right at him. This time, you saw tears trailing down his cheeks, and they seemed so real. “Y/N, I swear to you on everything I believe in that I’m telling you the truth.”

You wished it was the truth. You wished that this was real. You had been wishing that your pretending could become real for ages now.

But you’d danced this dance long enough to know that wasn’t gonna happen.

Even if Finnick had convinced himself that it would.

“It’s impossible.”

“I l-”

“Ms Y/L/N?” You both turned the source of the new voice, finding your doctor at your door. She glanced between you both carefully as you ripped your hands away from Finnick’s, wiping at the tears that’d fallen and the ones that continued to fall. “May I speak with you, please?” She requested, glancing at him.

He quickly stood up, but this time, you weren’t looking. “Yeah, I’ll, uh- I’ll head out.” He paused for a second, like he was waiting for you to say something, but you weren’t sure that you could continue to speak to him right now, even if you wanted to. When you remained silent, you heard his shoes pitter-patter against the ground as he made his way out of the room.

When he was gone, you exhaled and Dr. Terren looked back at you. She hesitated, “Did I… interrupt something?”

“No,” you breathed out. “Nothing important.”

She nodded after a beat, getting right into her medical talk, but she didn’t look so convinced.

And you weren’t sure that you were, either.

You were hit bad, the doctor said, but it could’ve been worse. And she was right. It could’ve been worse.

You didn’t feel a thing. Lung, ribs—all you felt was heartache. Maybe it was good that you couldn’t feel the pain. But you couldn’t be sure.

She kept pushing the same idea: therapy. That’s where Johanna was. That’s where Peeta was. But that wasn’t gonna be where you were. Terren kept talking about trauma, about how this near-death experience called for you to talk to someone, but really, what good would that do?

Would that therapist understand? Did they go through what you went through? Did they understand what you were going through? You didn’t have time to stop and talk about your feelings, if you could even sort them out into words, nor did you want to reminisce over anything that happened while you were in the Capitol.

Even if reminiscing was all you could do.

When Terren left, you ripped the IV out of your arm, leaving your hospital room to go to the other room they gave you. At least that one wasn’t filled with your favourite colour.

Your room in 13 was grey, like most things here. It was drab, but you wouldn’t complain. Anything was better than the Capitol. The door to your room slid open, and then you stopped. On your floor was the same black box Katniss left you, the same one you watched Finnick from.

Poison.

You swallowed, deciding to ignore the box altogether and go to your ensuite. You never wanted to see that video again. Watching it from that box was the first time you ever saw it, and it would be the last.

They must have gone through extra effort to hide it from you in the Capitol. They made you believe he was dead. You believed this was such conviction that, when you saw him again after the rescue, you thought you were dreaming.

You even thought you’d died.

You even wished you did.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, dead is what you looked like. That bullet may not have killed you, but you still looked like a corpse. You’re very lucky to be alive, Y/N, Dr. Terren told you.

Luck.

If luck was what kept you alive, then it wasn’t good luck at all. Luck would’ve been that bullet puncturing like it was intended to.

Your hand went to your ribs, looking at the bandages wrapped around them in the mirror. Then your hand travelled to your hair. Long and silky, so sought after in Panem. But as you ran your hands through it, you didn’t feel its softness. All you felt was Snow’s hand, petting you as you begged him not to kill you.

And then that turned into you begging for the exact opposite.

You don’t know how long you were looking at your reflection before you were opening and closing the sink drawers, your hands moving with a mind of their own. Part of you didn’t know what you were doing, but another part of you must have as you suddenly stopped, having found what you were looking for.

Scissors.

You picked them up, staring at them as if they were treasures, watching the light glare off the blades. You didn’t know what you were doing.

All you knew was that this feeling was tearing you apart.

And that’s all you could focus on.

Suddenly, your hand holding the scissors was moving. You still didn’t know what you were doing, but before you could find out, your name sounded.

“Y/N?”

You looked up, seeing Katniss stand in the doorway, confusion on her face that slowly contorted to fear. She glanced down at your hands, making you do the same. Quickly, you moved the scissors away from your wrist, unknowing of how they even got there.

You looked back at Katniss, your mouth opening and closing. You didn’t know what to say. Finally, you stammered, “I- I-” she looked back up at you and you realized that she, too, didn’t know what to say. “My hair. It’s- I want to cut my hair.”

That’s not what you were doing.

Katniss seemed to know that, not looking convinced in the slightest. She was quiet for a few moments, eyes on the scissors before she was walking towards you. Gently, she pried them out of your hand, as if you were a child holding a gun.

Then her eyes met yours. The eyes that were once hard as stone now looked at you with softness. “I’ll help you,” she whispered. She nodded to herself, repeating, “I’ll help you.”

You were grateful for her going with your story, even if it was just because she didn’t know what to say to what she really saw. She moved behind you, exhaling and getting ready right away.

And she may not have known this, but in just her walking in, she had already helped you more than you could’ve ever helped yourself.

Muffled chatter came to your ears as you sat in one of the common areas. Most people ate in the cafeteria, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go in there. Finnick was in there, along with Katniss, and you couldn’t really talk to either of them right now.

With Finnick, you didn’t know where you stood. He said so much to you in your hospital room, after you were shot, but you didn’t know what to make of any of it. He was talking to you like you were more than just fake lovers—and truth be told, that’s what you were. You may have forgotten that for a while or pretended for too long, but it was fake. The dance changed every so often, but at its core, it was the same.

Finnick was acting like this was a dance you engaged in voluntarily, like this was a dance he enjoyed dancing. While you had no one you’d rather dance with, you knew it wasn’t the same for him. You saw the way he looked at Annie; you saw it for the entirety of your “relationship.” He looked at her with such tenderness and care, like she put the stars in the sky. The second you saw her, the second you saw the way he looked at her, you knew that you didn’t stand a chance.

But for some reason, in that hospital room, you almost felt like he looked at you that way.

And that didn’t make sense.

That didn’t make sense at all.

Another part of you didn’t want him to see you like this, not again. Katniss did, and you weren’t ready to see her so soon, either. It was a weak moment, you told yourself, but you were fine now. You were here for a reason—you were still here for a reason.

Show them that they can.

You didn’t have hope, but you were still the hope of so many people, the hope of Panem. You weren’t gonna let them down. You were not going to stand by and let Snow’s reign of terror continue.

You made a pact with yourself. As Katniss was cutting your hair, you promised yourself that you would see this through. Afterward, it didn’t matter what happened, but you would fight until this country was free.

Even if you died for it in the process.

“Looking good, Princess.”

Your head shot up from your tray and, for the first time since you arrived in 13, you felt a smile arise on your face. “Johanna.” Your tray was pushed to the side as you stood, wrapping your arms around her.

“Easy. I hear you’re injured.”

“I’m fine, Jo,” you reassured her, pulling away. She mirrored your smile, a sight you never thought you’d see again after what you heard in the Capitol.

“You always are, aren’t you?” She retorted. You only continued to smile, opting not to respond. She must’ve seen your discomfort—of course she did, she knew you so well—so she changed the subject. “It’s good to see you.”

“Ditto,” you responded, even if it was a little untrue. You loved Johanna. She was the first person you looked for when you got to 13, and seeing her right now made you so unbelievably happy, a happy you didn’t anticipate feeling for a long time, but it wasn’t good to see her like this.

She had always put on a brave face, was always so much stronger than you, but right now, she looked like she was barely holding on. Her eyes were hollow, bags underneath them that matched yours. Her face was pale. And the beautiful red streaks that had once filled her hair, the hair that she loved, was now gone. It was all gone.

The Capitol took it just to show her that they could.

And even though you cut yours out of your own will, they still took yours, too.

Eventually, she sat down with you, resting her head on your shoulder. Before, when things were bad before they got worse, you’d sit together in the Capitol, you, her and Finnick, and you’d pass time together, just like this.

Except Finnick wasn’t here.

However, you convinced yourself that it was for the best.

Annie. He had Annie. You volunteered for Annie, got yourself in this position for Annie, so that he could have a life with her, the life he always wanted. He may have denied it, or maybe he didn’t know that you knew, but some nights, he’d dream about her, talking in his sleep. He wanted to marry her, to have kids with her.

He could do that now. This is what you did this for, so that he could have his happy ending. Even if it meant taking away yours for good.

Like she was reading your thoughts, Johanna muttered, “How come you aren’t in the cafeteria with prince charming?”

You stiffened, but you still knew how to dance this dance, deflecting, “Why aren’t you?”

She lightly chuckled. “Good point.” She didn’t answer, even though you knew the reason why, just as she probably knew the answer to her question. You expected her to drop it, but you supposed you should’ve known better from Johanna Mason. She was silent for a few moments until she spoke again. “He loves you, you know.”

You sighed, “Jo-”

“That boy loves you with all he has, Y/N.” She lifted her head up from your shoulder, making you look at her. “Always has, still does.”

Oh, Finnick and you were incredible. You made the masses believe that the love you shared was real- he made them believe it. You didn’t have to do any work. It wasn’t acting for you, but you knew it was for him.

Not even Johanna knew that it wasn’t real. She might’ve suspected, but for all she knew, you two were really in love. You wished that was true. For years, you wished that was true.

But your wishes rarely ever came true.

“It’s not that simple,” you said.

She slightly tilted her head. “Isn’t it?” Her words echoed throughout your head. Isn’t it? It should’ve been. In a different world, maybe it was that simple. In a different world, maybe the two of you really were as in love as everyone thought you were. In a different world, maybe all those wishes and all that pretending could’ve been a reality.

But that was not this world.

So you didn’t say anything, instead resting your head on her shoulder this time, conveying your thoughts to her without speaking them.

I wish it was.

You lied on your bed in silence, staring up at the plain ceiling and imagining patterns of your own. Back at home, the ceilings had colourful swirls on them, muted tones swooshing together. But that wasn’t really your home. The home you came from didn’t have pretty designs or fancy furniture. The home you came from had paint peeling off the walls. The home you came from didn’t have furniture at all.

But that wasn’t really your home, either.

At some point, you think, that place was something like a home. When your dad was still alive, you’d wake up every morning to the scent of food cooking in the kitchen, even if it was only a bit. But then he died, and there was no one to buy food at all.

That year, you barely ate a thing.

The next year, you picked up the slack. You could still remember it, being ten years old and finding your father’s hunting gear. Going into the forest, you were scared. You didn’t want to harm an animal.

But you did.

And then you did it every time after that.

When you came home, you saw the way your mother looked at you. Somewhere inside of her, something cracked. Somewhere inside of her, she saw something that you couldn’t. And, after that, she started looking at you a lot less.

Five years later, you were sent off to The Games. You could remember seeing your mother in the crowd, but when you got into the Justice Building, she wasn’t there. You waited. And she never showed. But you held your tears and told yourself you had to stay strong, for her, because she couldn’t.

You thought about her in the arena. You thought about her when you picked up that sword. You thought about her when you took your first life. You thought about her when Bay died. And you thought about her when Claudius announced that you, Y/N Y/L/N, had won the 67th Hunger Games.

Was she watching? you wondered. Is she happy?

When you got back to 4 and opened the door to your house, her jaw fell. Like she didn’t know. Like she was shocked. Like she never thought you’d win at all.

Like she didn’t want you to.

Mom, I- I won. Did you watch?

Silence. I watched. I tried, I just- I couldn’t watch you kill after that first- that-... The boy. A boy your age. A boy you stabbed into. A boy who you watched bleed out. A boy whose blood was on your hands–and with the way your mother stared at you, you almost felt like the stains were still there.

And they might as well have been.

She hugged you. But it didn’t feel like she was doing it because she missed you. It felt like she was doing it because that’s what a mother is supposed to do. They’re supposed to hug you–they’re supposed to love you.

But you weren’t you anymore.

You moved into the new house together. Then, soon after, you were moving into Finnick’s, leaving the house to her. You think she was relieved, relieved that she wouldn’t be sleeping in the same house as a killer.

And now, as you lied on this rough bed in 13, there was no house at all. No old house, no new one, no Finnick’s house, no district 4 at all. No mom, either.

What was the last thing I said to her? you wondered. Why can’t I remember the last thing I said to her?

Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t even remember when you last spoke to her. Your own mother. She was the woman who gave birth to you, the woman who raised you. Yet you couldn’t remember the last time you were in the same room.

And now you’d never be in the same room again.

A burning grew in your throat, but you didn’t let the tears fall, blinking them away. You’d cried an ocean of tears already. Now wasn’t the time to cry anymore. Now was the time to be strong.

You never wanted this. You didn’t choose this, to be princess of a country that only abused its citizens, a country that threw you to the wolves then claimed they loved you when you came out seemingly unscathed, a country that wouldn’t have loved you so much if they knew just how scathed you were.

You did not choose this. But, for some reason, it chose you. The people chose you. The people believed in you. They believed that you were some sort of hero, coming to save them all from this villain that had hurt them all so badly. They didn’t know that it wasn’t true, that you weren’t a hero. They didn’t know that you were scared of the villain, too.

But if the people in the districts could believe in you, the people being bombed and attacked, the people grieving the loss of their loved ones–if they could believe that, then you could, too.

If the people of Panem believed you could be a hero, then you promised yourself that that’s what you’d be.

“So I changed the chemical compound of the powder, adding more fluorine to excite the electrons, causing them to jump more rapidly from orbital to orbital and ignite faster as-”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Beetee paused, like he was surprised that you couldn’t understand. To him, it was so simple, but to most people, like yourself, it had no meaning. “Chemical reaction,” he reiterated. “I increased the strength of the chemical reaction so you can hit more.”

Your mouth formed an O shape. “Makes sense. That’s all you had to say, y’know.”

His mouth opened, likely to say something sweet and snarky as per usual when the two of you spoke, but he was halted by the door to the armory sliding open. You both turned to see The Mockingjay making her way into the room.

Your breath got caught in your throat for a moment before you regulated it, calming yourself down. You hadn’t seen Katniss since she walked in on you in the bathroom. The way her eyes met yours told you that she remembered that day well, too. But if you knew anything about Katniss Everdeen, it was that feelings were not her strong suit. If you knew her as well as you thought you did, then she’d pretend it never happened.

You hoped she’d pretend. If you knew Katniss as well as you thought you did, then she was just as good at pretending as you.

“You wanted to see me?” she queried, directing her vision to Beetee. A breath left you.

“Yeah, I wanted to show you both your new arrows. I adde-”

You cut him off, “He did something to the chemicals to make the arrows better.”

“Reaction. I increased the force of the chemical reaction.”

“Same difference.”

Beetee took a deep breath, closing his eyes and then reopening them. “Since you’re so… well-versed, you can explain it to her.” You snorted at his response while he wheeled away. Beetee always had the ability to make you laugh, even if it wasn’t his intention.

When you looked away from his retreating figure, you were met with Katniss staring right at you, realizing she was still in the room. Her brows furrowed, a light, light smile on her face that would otherwise be invisible to a stranger. “I’ve never seen Beetee get so… irritated.”

The tension in your shoulders dissipated as they shook with your laughter. Nobody had seen him get annoyed often, unless you were around. “Yeah, that happens when you're stuck in the Capitol with someone for years on end.”

Beetee was always a pretty good friend. You met at a Capitol function, of course, and from then on, you made it a point to annoy him whenever you could. Besides amusing you, it also served as a reminder that he was a human, too, not just some Capitol pawn.

Snow didn’t sell Beetee, but he used him in so many other ways. You and Finnick were their pride, but insiders knew that Beetee was their prize. He was perhaps the smartest person you’d ever met, but you figured that, every once in a while, he deserved to let his guard down and just be normal for a few minutes.

And, deep down, you knew he wasn’t as annoyed as he seemed.

Even though you were laughing, the smile on the brunette’s face slowly dimmed as she looked down. Your smile disappeared. “What is it?”

She was quiet for a second until she spoke, “You and the other victors… you all seemed close.”

Seemed.

Pictures flashed through your mind, pictures of your time in the Capitol. Normally, when you thought about your time there, you pictured all the bad, all the conversations behind closed doors, all the grown men and women who used you when you were still a child. What you didn’t think about was all the kids who were there with you, all the kids who had to grow up just as you did.

Some of these people were people you killed, the same people you had conversations with, the same people who were going through exactly what you were going through.

You were close.

Until you weren’t.

You didn’t say anything for a while, letting yourself remember it all. “Yeah,” you finally responded. “Yeah, we were.” And you didn’t say anything more on the matter. You didn’t know what more there was to say. You cleared your throat, changing the topic. “Anyways, this is what Beetee wanted to show us.” You picked up the arrows, showing them to her.

She hummed, looking back up. You knew that she knew what you were doing, but fortunately, she went along with it. “Never knew you could shoot.”

“Oh, please, Everdeen, anyone who grew up in the districts can shoot.”

“Yeah, doesn’t mean they’re any good,” she retorted, shrugging.

You narrowed your eyes. “Is that a challenge?”

She shrugged again. “I don’t know, is it?”

Another laugh left your lips, your third time laughing since arriving in 13. “You’re on, Girl on Fire.” You grabbed one of the non-incendiary arrows and a random bow lying on the table, loading the arrow in.

You faced your body to the targets across the room, bringing the bow up to your ear, pulling the arrow back, and eying the red. The corners of your lips quirked upward and, as soon as you turned your head to face Katniss, you let it fly. The look on her face made your smirk widen, turning to see that you hit the target dead-centre.

“How the hell did you just do that?” She walked closer, shock etched onto her face.

“Precision. And years of experience,” you replied, lowering the bow. “My father was a hunter.”

When you looked back at her, she had a different expression, like she was remembering something. Her eyes glazed over. “So was mine.” Her eyes found yours again, and this time, there was something there that wasn’t there before.

Back when you met, she was just Katniss Everdeen, and you were just the Princess. But now, you were both a lot more than that.

It seemed that you and Katniss Everdeen were more alike than you thought.

Right before the 74th Hunger Games, when you and Finnick were watching the training scores on TV, you didn’t think the tributes from 12 stood a chance, even though the girl had the highest score.

Watching the Games, you disregarded them completely, even as they got just as many sponsors as your tributes. You watched as Haymitch Abernathy actually tried, actually cared for these kids, but not even that deterred you.

You ignored the possibility of them winning at all. You wanted it to be your tributes, so badly. They were good. You wanted them to survive, one of them to survive, to make it out of this, to live the rest of their lives. But you should’ve known better.

No matter your best efforts, those kids died, and there was nothing you could’ve done about it.

After that, you assumed it’d go to the Careers. Glimmer and Marvel were crowd favourites, flashy and luxurious, but not as cutthroat as Cato and Clove. A part of you even rooted for them. Maybe tradition would be broken, you thought, maybe it’d go to that kid from 11. Thresh had the determination and resilience to win.

That’s why you were surprised when you turned on the TV to see Peeta and Katniss as the last ones standing.

One of us has to die; they have to have their victor.

No. They don’t.

You were even more surprised when they both walked out of that arena alive.

Peeta became Panem’s golden boy, and he knew exactly what strings to pull, as if he’d been doing this his whole life. Katniss, on the other hand, was not a performer, not the performer you knew Snow wanted her to be. You could tell she was angry, but being angry was not her job.

You knew this because it wasn’t yours, either.

People like you and her didn’t get to be angry. You were supposed to be grateful for the opportunity that the Capitol so generously bestowed upon you, not angry or sad or guilty. That wasn’t for you.

You saw so much of yourself in her. And for that reason, you thought you’d never meet her. Too rebellious, too jagged, too questioning–she was nothing that Snow wanted around the Princess. You were right; you didn’t meet her.

Until the time came for the 75th Hunger Games.

You were surprised when she was the one who came up to you. She was confident and put-together, but you knew better. This was your dance she was dancing. You could hear the lyrics so well.

She was scared.

And she was angry.

Her attitude made you like her. You could’ve been friends, you noted, but not in this lifetime, not when she was meant to be your opponent. You never thought that you and Katniss Everdeen would be friends.

Little did you know, she’d become one of the only friends you had.

“C’mon, Everdeen. You’re going easy on me,” you said, holding your arms out. Katniss stood opposite to you, lightly panting with her hands held up.

“I’m just- I’m just tired-”

“No, you’re not. You’re going easy,” you deadpanned. “Stop stalling and hit me.”

The brunette hesitated for a moment before going in for a punch that you easily caught. “You call that a punch? Where’s that Mockingjay fire?”

She scoffed, yanking her fist out of your grasp. “I’m not going to hit you, Y/N. You were just shot-”

“Well, the revolution doesn’t care if I’m shot or not.” You gestured to your body. “I’m perfectly fine. So hit me like you mean it.”

“No-”

“Hit me like I’m Snow.”

She scoffed again. “This is ridiculous. I’m not going to hit you. You’ve barely healed-”

You cut her off. “Fine. If you won’t, then I will.” Without another word, you threw a sharp punch for her face that she narrowly dodged. You didn’t miss a beat, throwing another one right after, and another one right after that like rapid fire.

She blocked your hits, but your pace didn’t alter. The two of you moved around the ring, but Katniss' hands remained in front of her face, not once swinging. You weren’t relenting; you weren’t gonna stop until she swung back.

You had almost backed her into the corner when, suddenly, the wind was knocked out of you and your back was hitting the ground. The world spun. You blinked and you were back in the arena, lying on the ground with Johanna hovering over you. You opened them and you were back in the training room, and now it was Katniss that hovered.

“Holy shit, Y/N, are you okay?” Her eyes were worried and her voice was panicked. Holy shit, she actually hit me. With that realization, a smile slowly formed on your face. “What? Why are you smiling-”

She was abruptly cut off as you swept her feet out from under her, sending her to the ground right next to you. She groaned while you laughed, almost hysterical.

If the old you could’ve seen you now. You never thought you’d be friends with Katniss Everdeen, much less that you’d be laughing with her after she kicked you.

“It’s not that funny,” she heaved, but you didn’t stop, uncontrollably giggling.

“You- you actually did it-” you cackled, tears in your eyes. She looked over at you, still panting, until you made eye contact and she was laughing, too.

You stayed there on the floor together for a while, laughing your hearts out. For all you knew, you wouldn’t get many moments like this for a while, moments where you could just lie down and rest. For all you knew, this revolution would kill you.

So there you were, the Princess and The Mockingjay, pretending that you were just Y/N, and she was just Katniss.

And for now, that made you forget about everything else.

“Please. Please, I’m begging you- please don’t do it again.” Your shoulders shook with sobs, vision blurred.

“Ah, you know that that is not how the game works, my dear.”

“Please- please, I don’t want to play anymore.”

Snow tutted. “You know the rules. You give me something, and you get something in return. If you do not give me anything, then I will take something.”

“Please, I don’t- I don’t have anything more to give-”

He sighed. “Is that so?” He didn’t give you time to say anything else. “In that case, I won’t take from you.”

You blinked the tears in your eyes away to look up at him, a chill going down your spine at his expression. He didn’t look angry. No, he was smiling. “W-what?”

He hummed. “I’ll take from Peeta.” Your heart dropped. You pulled at your restraints as he turned to leave the room.

“No, please! Please, stop! Stop!” He ignored you, walking out the door and letting the door slide closed behind him.

And then the room went black.

You shot up out of bed panting, heart racing with your eyes darting around the room. The walls were grey, but there was a window. There wasn’t a window where you were in the tribute centre. Moonlight shone into the room. There was light. There weren’t Peacekeepers waiting by your bed, waking you up when you fell asleep. You were alone. You were safe. It’s okay. You’re in 13. You’re alive.

You’re alive.

Somehow, that didn’t make it any better.

You breathed in and out slowly, trying to regain control of your breathing like how Dr. Terren showed you. When you were rescued, you couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t be consoled. This feeling that you felt right now was like that, but you don’t know if any panic attack could ever compare to that one.

You were rescued. But it didn’t feel that way.

It didn’t feel that way at all.

Once you calmed down or reached some semblance of feeling calm, your mind went right back to Peeta. You hadn’t been to see him since you first arrived in 13–and even then, you didn’t speak. He wasn’t really in a condition to be spoken to. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. But there was more to it than that.

There was always more to it than what you were willing to acknowledge.

As if your body was moving on its own accord, you threw your bed sheets to the side, slipping on a sweater and sliding your feet into the slippers next to your bed. Walking out of the room, you didn’t spare the clock a glance, walking with a subtle determination that many wouldn’t understand.

You called it a victor’s drive. It was a certain determination that came with fighting for your life, even if it meant taking another’s. It was not wanting to kill, but doing it anyway. It was not wanting to live, but doing that, too.

There were many things a victor did not want to do.

And there were just as many things that you’d do, anyway.

A part of you didn’t know where you were going while the other part was sure of herself. Regardless, you let your body take you to where your mind didn’t want to go, making your way through the dark hallways with no sound other than your feet heard.

Before you knew it, you stood in front of the glass wall that you hadn’t seen since you first got to 13. On the other side lied Peeta, looking no better than the last time you saw him. His screams echoed throughout your brain.

Please! Stop! No-

You screwed your eyes shut, trying to block out the noise that surrounded you even in such silence. His screams quieted after a few seconds, but no matter your resilience or techniques the doctor taught you, no matter what, you’d never be able to silence your song.

There was a time when you almost believed that you could escape it, the music. When Finnick and you were pretending, it felt like you could really have it, a family, like one day it would be more than pretending. But now you knew that wasn’t possible.

This song would never skip.

And you’d be dancing until the day you died.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with blue ones staring back at you, as if he knew you were there. You took in a sharp breath, scared, but maintained your stare. His hair looked shorter and more unkept than you’d ever seen it. It wasn’t so gold anymore.

Peeta’s eyes were blue, but not blue like Finnick’s. They were bright like the sky and full of a childlike innocence that you no longer saw. His eyes weren’t so bright anymore.

He looked like a ghost.

And maybe that’s what you looked like, too.

Without thinking, you went for the door, pulling the handle only for it to remain still. You furrowed your brows, trying again with the same outcome. That’s when you saw the pin pad on the side and realized that it was locked.

Of course, it was. They weren’t gonna leave Peeta Mellark in a room by himself with the door unlocked. Not this Peeta.

This Peeta had to be strapped down to the bed because his one and only objective was to kill the woman he loved. This Peeta wasn’t the same Peeta you met at the parade.

This wasn’t him at all.

With that realization, you turned around, letting his eyes burn into your skull as you walked away. You weren’t sure of anything, but what you were sure of was that you couldn’t be alone right now. If you listened to the music by yourself right now, you didn’t know what you’d do.

Your feet pitter-pattered against the floor in quick motions. You didn’t know where you were going, just that you needed to find Johanna. If you couldn’t talk to Peeta, then you needed to talk to her.

Suddenly, you turned a corner and went tumbling to the ground. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the fall, but it never came. Slowly, you opened them and the first thing you saw were another set of blue eyes, not bright or vibrant, but your favourite colour.

Finnick.

Your heart sped up. Suddenly, you could feel that the hands on your arms were his. Suddenly, you realized you were in Finnick Odair’s arms.

You think he only just realized that, too.

He cleared his throat, helping you up and letting you go. As soon as his hands were no longer on your skin, you felt cold. You felt just as cold as when the two of you were in the Capitol, standing outside together.

Except, now, you couldn’t hold each other like you did then.

Even if it was the one thing you wanted more than anything in the world.

Your breath got caught in your throat as you realized just how close he was. He was right there, in front of you.

You’re not alone in this, okay? I’m right here.

Right here.

And not at all at the same time.

He looked at you quietly, not saying a word, but after so long, you’d learned to read Finnick well. He looked like he had so much to say but couldn’t find the words to put them in. He looked like how he looked that night, that night that you were in the Capitol and that poor boy and girl died, that night that you kissed for the first time.

But as you looked at him, really looked at him, he also looked nothing like the Finnick you knew. You’d avoided looking into his eyes ever since you got to 13, in fear of what you’d see, and now that you finally were, you could see that his eyes weren’t so lively anymore. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

Could you ever?

“What are you-” he cleared his throat again, “What are you doing up?”

At his question, you diverted your eyes, suddenly finding the floors much more interesting to look at. “I, um, I couldn’t sleep,” you reasoned. You didn’t explain why.

“Yeah, neither could I,” he muttered back, voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t explain, either.

There was a time when you’d seek him out if you couldn’t sleep, a time when you’d go to him if you had a nightmare. That wasn’t possible anymore.

If you danced with him, you didn’t know if he’d be enough to keep you from collapsing.

If you danced with him, you didn’t know how much longer you’d be able to keep going.

After a beat of silence, you spoke, “I should, um… I should get going now.”

You moved to leave, but Finnick grabbing onto your wrist stopped you. You masked your flinch, not because someone was touching you anymore, but because of who that person was. Your skin ignited so hot that it burned.

“Wait, can-” he hesitated, “can we talk?”

Your breath hitched, back still turned to him. His voice was pleading, a tone you never would’ve imagined him taking when you first met. You closed your eyes at the memory, feeling tears gather.

You wanted to say yes—oh, you always wanted to say yes to Finnick. His happiness became the only thing you strived for. You stayed with him even when you knew he loved Annie, you fought for her, you volunteered for her, you pretended you were okay, you pretended you didn’t love him, you pretended all the time.

But you couldn’t pretend anymore.

A nation was counting on you. People were counting on you. People needed you.

You couldn’t fall apart right now. And if you talked to Finnick, you weren’t sure you’d be able to put yourself back together again.

“I-” your voice cracked, “I can’t-”

“Please. Please, Y/N, I just need to talk to you.” You shook your head, holding in the sobs that were begging to escape.

Why was he doing this to you? Why, why, why, why, why, why-

“Please.”

Y/N, please. I’m just asking you to trust me. Please just trust me.

Trust you to do what?

I just need you to trust me, Y/N, please. Trust me.

I trust you.

You would die for this man. You died for this man. And if it came down to it, you’d die again if it meant that he’d get to live in a better world. But you couldn’t talk to him now.

If you talked to him, then it didn’t matter what the Capitol would throw at you, what bullets you’d take. Those eyes would drown you.

You couldn’t do this. Not now.

“No.” You removed your hand from his grasp and walked away as fast as you could, even as your feet felt anchored to the ground, each step hurting more and more. You didn’t turn back once.

The tears that you held in fell as you walked away, running down your face like a waterfall. You walked faster and faster until your walk escalated into a run. The door to your room slid open before you ran in, locking it as it closed. You slid down the metal and let out a sob, more and more following it.

Your hands went over your ears, trying to block out the music, but it only got louder and louder.

No, no, nothing is okay!

We will never be free, Y/N.

Ladies and gentlemen, our tributes for the Hunger Games.

Mom?

President Snow used to sell me.

We are both coming home, Y/N, I swear.

May the odds be ever in your favour, darling.

You screamed in agony, nearly ripping your hair out, uncaring if anyone heard you. Your body shook with sobs and your heart ached. It hurt so bad. You never thought it could hurt this bad.

You didn’t wanna dance anymore. You didn’t wanna feel like this anymore. You didn’t wanna feel anymore at all if this was all it’d feel like.

But it didn’t matter. How you felt didn’t matter. What you wanted didn’t matter. It stopped mattering the second you won those Games, the second you stabbed that boy. You stopped being a person and became the person Snow wanted you to be. You became the Princess.

And now it was your job to make sure there wouldn’t ever be another Princess, another you, another Finnick, another Katniss, Peeta, Johanna, Haymitch, Annie, Bay—it was your job to make sure this never happened to anyone again, that there would never be another group of kids that were forced to kill each other and themselves in the process. It was your job to make sure nobody else ever felt how you felt right now.

As you reminded yourself of that, your sobs gradually subsided and your heart rate came down. You weren’t okay.

But you had to be. You still had things to do- dancing to do.

You were gonna dance one last time, for this country, for all the kids that died, for the kids you were, for the kids you could’ve had, for yourself, and for the man that you loved. You were gonna dance until you couldn’t anymore. You were gonna dance until the music stopped. And amidst all the unknown, one thing was certain.

The day the music died, so would you.

It’s the things we love most, that destroy us.

Taglist: @avoxrising @mxacegrey @littleshadow17 @lovelyteenagebeard @nasyanastya @catastrxblues @zodiyack @zulpix-blog @mushroomelephant @muggies @lantsovheiress @hobiebrowns-wife @notplutos @faeriepigeons @hnslchw @unholyhuntress @aclmagic @gloryekaterina @ayme301 @lem0ns77 @kisskittenn @onlyangel-444 @moonagedaydream505 @spderm4nnnn @satellitespeirs @glitzcute @iammirrorball @corpsebasil @forever-sleepy-sloth @omwtkydttfym @divinelovers @maggiecc @i-am-a-simp1 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @nelliereadsstuff @how2besalty @dreaminglandsworld @eilaharmonia @catvader101 @lexa138 @h0neylemon @dakotali @hermionelove @theseerbetweenus @whosscruffylooking @yourdailymemedelivery @emma-andrea1 @s1lngwns @meenyminymoes-blog @roxi-reid @rattertatter @sunnybunnyy2 @just-levyy @amaranth-writing @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @joshhutchersonisdaddy @my-name-is-baby @hehehe13356 @quazsz @chloecharms23 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @thehairington86 @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @ment1tavoid @hereliesme @tayrae515 @mottergirl99 @blackdxggr @giverosespls @erindiggory @feyretopia @bibliosaurous @sleila @soursonnets

416 notes · View notes

praisethegabs · 1 year ago

Text

SCARS

pre re4r!leon kennedy x reader

synopsis: You and Leon are the rookies in the training camp, although Leon is under the training of Major Krauser. You hate Krauser more than anyone else and you despise his methods, knowing how abusive he can be. As for Leon, he's your roommate and he's like a stranger to you — until you see his scars.

warnings: descriptions of violence, bullying and physical abuse. Leon cries a lot, hurt and comfort, angst with good ending.

word count: 4492k

a/n: another angst one shot with a happy ending. I'm really into angst, anyways. hope you guys like it as much as i do!

"Being silent does not mean not speaking but opening our ears to hear everything around us" Paulo Coelho

As you walked into the cold, fluorescent-lit government training facility, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of anxiety and excitement. You were part of an elite group chosen for a classified program, and the details had been shrouded in secrecy. All you knew was that your skills were needed to combat a rising threat.

Navigating through the labyrinthine hallways, you finally arrived at your assigned room. You swiped your access card and pushed the door open, revealing a sparsely furnished living space. Two singles bed, two desks, and a small bathroom were all that adorned the room. You already knew you would have a roommate, and you were excited to meet them.

As you entered, your eyes fell upon a man standing near the window, gazing out at the facility's courtyard. He had a rugged handsomeness about him, and the name on his doorplate read "Leon Kennedy."

"Excuse me, I think there might be some mistake. I was assigned to this room, and it appears we're meant to be roommates." You cleared your throat to get his attention.

The man turned to face you, his expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity. He was young, perhaps in his early 20s... but something about his eyes told you he's someone who went through a lot. His eyes were sad, tired and traumatized.

"Roommates, huh?" he said, a faint smile gracing his lips. "I'm Leon. Leon Kennedy."

You smiled largely at him, shaking his hand. You spotted a bandage over his shoulder; probably something recent. You left all your belongings under your new bed, and sat there with crossed legs.

"Do you know who's your instructor?" You asked him, curious.

"Major Krauser. Do you know who's yours?" Leon asked in return, avoiding your gaze.

"Hmm... I don't know yet, but apparently we won't train together" you said, grabbing a few clothes.

"Well, good luck" Leon faced you, his voice sounding kind for a brief moment, and he smiled.

You hated Major Krauser.

After the first month in the training camp, rumors had been circulating throughout the training facility about Major Krauser and his unorthodox methods. Whispers in the hallways and hushed conversations among the trainees hinted at the darkness behind his strict training regimen. You had heard your fellow agents-in-training speak in worried tones about the psychological toll it took and the physical brutality they endured under his guidance.

This evening, as you returned to your shared room after a grueling day of training, you noticed Leon sitting on his bed, shirtless. His body bore a tapestry of bruises, fresh and angry against his pale skin. It was the worst you had ever seen him, and it sent a chill down your spine.

"Leon," you gasped, rushing to his side. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Just a rough day in training. It's part of the program." Leon shifted his gaze away from you and shrugged, wincing in pain.

You didn't buy it. You knew that Leon had faced something before, even though he refused to talk about it, but these bruises looked different, more vicious. You couldn't keep silent any longer.

"Leon, this isn't right. I've been hearing things about Major Krauser, about what he does to us, to you" you sighed heavily, trying to convince him to talk.

"Come on, you don't understand. Krauser's methods may be tough, but they're meant to prepare us for the worst. We can't afford to be soft in this line of work." Leon's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and frustration, and he turned to face you.

Still, you weren't convinced. You'd seen the toll it was taking on your fellow trainees, and now, on the man you truly cared more than anyone.

"Leon, it's not about being soft. It's about doing what's right about treating us with respect and dignity. This isn't training; it's abuse." You glanced at him as your voice sounded more concerned, and you stood up, then sitting next to him.

Leon sighed and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Sometimes we have to do things that others wouldn't understand. There's more to this than meets the eye, and I can't talk about it. Just focus on your training. We'll get through this."

You wanted to push further, to demand answers, but you could see the weariness in Leon's eyes. You knew he was hiding something, something that ran much deeper than the surface of their brutal training.

And then, when you were about to leave for dinner, someone knocked aggressively at the door. It was him, the said man you hated the most. Major Jack Krauser.

Krauser was standing there, an imposing figure with a harsh expression. "Kennedy," he barked, "get ready. We're going to train right now"

Leon nodded, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead. He had been through tough training earlier, but something about today's session felt ominous. Krauser was notorious for his extreme methods, but this was different.

You watched silently as Leon left the room, being escorted by Krauser. Everyone at the dorm room was looking at the scene; it wasn't a secret that Krauser loved to bully Leon. If he had any small opportunity, he would definitely take advantage of it.

The training began, a relentless barrage of physical challenges and combat drills. Leon gave it his all, but Krauser pushed him harder than ever before. He moved with the agility of a panther, landing blows that seemed impossible to evade. Each strike landed with a painful intensity.

Time blurred as the grueling training continued. Leon's body ached, his breathing labored, but he refused to give in. He knew the importance of pushing his limits, especially in their line of work.

He felt every punch against his skin, the way Krauser did that just for his humiliation. It wasn't training. It was a pure demonstration of who was in charge.

"You're weak! Pathetic!" Krauser yelled, punching Leon even more. "Do you think you'll survive the training? Such a disappointment"

Finally, when Leon's muscles screamed in protest, and his vision blurred with exhaustion, Major Krauser called a halt.

"That's enough for today, Rookie," he said, his tone colder than ever.

Leon, battered and bruised, sank to his knees, gasping for breath. His body felt like it had been through a meat grinder. He couldn't help but wonder what had brought on this level of brutality in his training today.

As Major Krauser walked away, leaving Leon alone on the training ground, he couldn't shake the feeling that something sinister lurked beneath the surface. But for now, all he could do was struggle to his feet and gather the strength to carry on, one step at a time.

He managed to go back to the dorm room, feeling his bones hurting. Leon spotted the bleeding from his ribs, and he wanted desperately to cry.

After everything he saw at Raccoon City, this was the only thing he wasn't expecting at all. The training was hard and painful, and it was taking a toll on him. And worse than that, he still would see you. Leon couldn't understand why you cared so much about him, but sometimes he got himself thinking you were just like him. Or what he used to be.

"Did he hurt you?" Leon heard you ask when he walked inside the room. He sighed heavily.

"It's okay, I'm fine" Leon muttered, trying to avoid you. He thought it would be for the best to keep you away from him.

Silently, in the pungent scent of antiseptic hung in the air, Leon gingerly removed his torn shirt, revealing the intricate web of cuts and bruises that adorned his battle-worn body. With a sigh, he slumped onto the edge of his bed, his breath labored.

You decided to stay silent, completely focused on your book, which was very usual.

The other roommates were friends at this point, but not you and Leon. You were a total stranger to him, and he was a blank space to you.

But, truth be told, you had been an unexpected presence in his life. A stranger at first, you had shown kindness and compassion that Leon had never experienced before. You had witnessed his struggles and the pain etched on his face, and in your own quiet way, had offered your support.

Decided to change that, you took a deep breath and walked straight to the bathroom. When you came back, Leon was still laying on his bed, his eyes closed and his breath heavier. Your gentle hands trembling slightly gathered an assortment of bandages and ointments. You knelt beside Leon, your touch soft as you began to clean and tend to his wounds. The room was filled with a hushed serenity as you worked, a comforting contrast to the relentless violence of his training.

"What are you doing?" Leon gasped, his eyes meeting yours in a surprise tone.

"Being your friend" you said to him, focused completely on his swollen ribs. "Let me take care of you, Lee"

He winced as you tended to a particularly nasty gash on his forearm, but he held back his pain, not wanting to show weakness. However, you saw through his facade. You looked up, your eyes meeting his with an understanding that ran deeper than words.

"Leon, it's okay to let it out," you whispered, your voice soothing. "You've been through so much today."

He hesitated for a moment, struggling to contain his emotions, but the weight of the day's trials was too much to bear. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he finally allowed them to escape, his shoulders shaking as the emotions he had suppressed for so long came rushing forth.

You set aside the first aid supplies and wrapped your arms around Leon, pulling him into a comforting embrace. You held him as he wept, offering solace through the storm of his pent-up feelings. In that moment, Leon realized that he didn't have to be alone in his pain and vulnerability. He had found an unexpected friend and confidant in you, and your presence was a source of strength he had never anticipated.

After twenty minutes, Leon finally calmed down. His eyes met yours again, and you felt something delicate floating inside you.

"I'm sorry" Leon muttered again, sighing.

"You don't need to apologize, it's okay" you said back, your words full of kindness and care.

"Do you... do you know anything about the incident in Raccoon City?" Leon finally asked, feeling he needed to talk about this torment.

"I've heard something about the outbreak... and the city being exploded" you said to him, already understanding what he was saying.

"I was there... it was my first day at the RPD..." Leon said, and somehow, you felt the pain in his words. "It was in there I got shot"

And then, he showed you the scar on his chest, right under the shoulder. Truth be told, you were not his friend, and you weren't exactly the best person to talk with, but Leon was alone. He had no one else besides you. But he was so broken inside that he needed to vent.

Leon sat on the edge of his bed, his shoulders slumped, and his eyes filled with tears. The room in the training facility was the only place he felt safe enough to open up. You sat again next to his side, waiting patiently for him to open up.

"It was a nightmare" Leon began, his voice shaky. "My first day as a cop in Raccoon City… It was nothing like I expected."

You leaned forward, placing a reassuring hand on Leon's knee. "Take your time, Leon. You can tell me everything."

Leon took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. He closed his eyes, and suddenly, everything about that night came back like a wave.

"I got a call one week before telling me i wasn't supposed to go, but I decided to go there anyway, ignoring the call. When I arrived, it was like something out of a horror movie. Zombies, blood, chaos everywhere." He whispered to you as he could see that night again.

Tears welled up in Leon's eyes as he recounted the horrors he'd witnessed.

"Annette Birkin, a scientist working for Umbrella Corporation, shot me in the shoulder when I was trying to help a friend. She was trying to protect something, something terrible. I could see it in her eyes. She didn't care that I was just a rookie cop. She just… shot me."

Your expression softened as you listened, your grip on Leon's knee tightening in support. "That sounds terrifying, Leon. I can't even imagine what you went through."

Leon wiped away a tear and continued, "And then, I found Claire again, this girl who was looking for her brother. We tried to escape the nightmare together. But it just got worse. We found out the city was infested with those… those things."

His voice broke, and he buried his face in his hands, finally letting the tears flow. You moved closer, wrapping your arms around him and offering comfort as he sobbed.

"I don't know if I can handle all this," Leon said, his voice muffled. "I never signed up for this. I just wanted to be a cop and make a difference."

You held him close, offering a soothing presence. "You're stronger than you think, Leon. You've already survived so much. We'll get through this together. And when it's over, you'll be the hero you want to be."

Leon continued to sob out loud. He was keeping things inside him for so long that it was almost unbearable. And then, you noticed he wasn't telling you everything. He kept more things to him than he told you.

"Leon," you said gently, "you've been through so much. You don't have to keep it all bottled up. I'm here for you."

He took a shuddering breath and looked up at you, his eyes red and puffy from crying.

"I… I don't know how to explain it. The city was like a nightmare. People turning into those monsters, the stench of death everywhere. And then… then, there was the Tyrant."

Your brow furrowed as you listened intently.

"The Tyrant? What happened?"

Leon's voice trembled as he continued, "It was this hulking, unstoppable monster. It was relentless, chasing me through the police station. I thought I was going to die. I thought I was already dead."

His voice cracked, and he wiped away more tears. You sighed heavily. Of all things you imagined, this was the last thing you would think of. Gently, you decided to take his hand, offering a comforting squeeze. "I can't even begin to imagine how terrifying that must have been, Leon. But you're here, you survived it. You're strong, and you can get through this."

Leon nodded, his voice still shaky. "I know, but the nightmares, they just won't go away. Every time I close my eyes, I see those things, and the Tyrant's face… I can't escape it"

After that night, Leon seemed more distant. You've noticed his small attempts to start a conversation, but every time he tried, he ended up being silent and avoiding you. And honestly, you couldn't understand him. You were so worried about him, feeling desperate to help, but being obligated to watch him sink in his own darkness, refusing any help or a friend.

As for his training, Major Krauser had always been a formidable presence at the academy. Tall and imposing, his glare was enough to make even the bravest cadets shudder. He had taken a particular interest in Leon, a young recruit with potential, but also an easy target for the major's relentless bullying.

As the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the training grounds, Major Krauser approached Leon, his voice laced with cruelty and a smile that would make the devil himself be scared.

"Leon," he barked, "You're a disgrace to this unit. You'll never amount to anything here."

Leon clenched his fists, trying to hold back tears of frustration. He knew better than to talk back to the major.

"Yes, sir," he replied through gritted teeth.

Major Krauser's lips curled into a sinister smile. "Since you seem to enjoy wasting everyone's time, you have a new mission. A punishment mission. You're to report to the obstacle course at 0500 hours tomorrow. Maybe that will teach you some discipline."

Leon's heart sank. The obstacle course was notorious for being grueling and unforgiving. He couldn't help but feel the weight of despair as he nodded and saluted Major Krauser.

The obstacle course loomed in the distance, a daunting series of barriers, walls, and challenges. Leon stood at the starting line, his confidence shaken from the relentless bullying of Major Krauser. The memory of the major's words echoed in his mind, eroding his self-esteem.

As the signal to start rang out, Leon's heart raced, but his steps were heavy. He stumbled over the first set of hurdles, scraping his knees against the coarse ground. His classmates, once his friends, now looked on with a mixture of pity and scorn.Leon tried to ignore their judgmental gazes and push forward.

The rope climb came next, and he struggled to find the strength in his trembling arms. His fingers slipped, and he fell back to the ground, the impact driving the wind from his lungs. The tire run proved equally difficult. With every leap through the hanging rubber, he felt like a clumsy child instead of a trained cadet.

A chorus of laughter erupted from behind him as his classmates breezed through the obstacle.The wall presented a nearly insurmountable challenge. Its height seemed to grow with every passing second, and Leon's past success at conquering it felt like a distant memory. He tried to summon the courage to leap, but his legs refused to obey. Each futile attempt only deepened his frustration.

Major Krauser watched from the sidelines, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. He had orchestrated this punishment with the intention of breaking Leon's spirit, and it appeared to be working.

Leon finally reached the final leg of the course, the mud pit. Covered in muck and exhaustion, he struggled to pull himself out, his body feeling like dead weight. His vision blurred, and it became increasingly challenging to distinguish the course from the nightmarish haze in his mind.

As Leon approached, he couldn't help but think of Major Krauser's words: "You'll never amount to anything here." The tears welled up in his eyes, and his hands quivered.

Finally, as Leon reached the wall at the end of the course, his trembling arms gave out, and he fell to the ground, unable to complete the final obstacle. The disappointment was crushing, and the sting of failure was intensified by the distant laughter of Major Krauser, who had been watching from the sidelines.

Major Krauser approached Leon, a cruel smile on his face. "You're a disgrace, Rookie," he sneered. "I told you that you'd never amount to anything here, and you've proven me right. Incompetence at its finest."

Leon's eyes filled with tears, not just from the physical and emotional pain but from the humiliation of being berated by the very man who had tormented him from the start. The other cadets exchanged uncomfortable glances but said nothing.

"How pathetic! Are you gonna cry like a baby? You don't belong in here, Rookie!" Krauser shouted, humiliating him in front of everyone.

Leon's spirits were shattered, and the weight of Major Krauser's scorn felt insurmountable. As he lay there, covered in mud and feeling utterly defeated, the obstacle course had become not just a physical challenge but a harsh reminder of the relentless cruelty that he would have to endure on his path to becoming a better soldier.

The following morning, Leon returned to the dorm room, covered in mud, sweat, and exhaustion. He stumbled through the door and collapsed on his bed, tears welling up in his eyes. The events of the punishing mission had taken a toll on him.

As you were studying at the desk, as soon as Leon walked inside the room, you immediately noticed his distress. You rushed to his side, concern etched on your face.

"Leon, what happened?" You asked gently.

Leon's voice quivered as he recounted the humiliation and the physical strain of the punishment mission. "I can't take it anymore," he admitted, his pride shattered.

You sat beside him, offering a comforting embrace.

"I know his an asshole... and he's cruel... but I'm here with you" you whispered, wiping away a tear from his cheek. "I'm here"

As Leon buried his face in your shoulder, he realized that your support was the beacon of light in the darkness of his training. After so many months together, your presence gave him the strength to face each day, no matter how tough the challenges became. After what happened in Raccoon City, he finally saw that he had someone by his side. You were the only one who could understand what he was going through.

"You gave it your all, and that's what matters. Don't let Major Krauser's words get to you." You finally said something after minutes in silence.

Leon tried to force a weak smile, but the tears still welled up in his eyes.

"It's just... It's hard. He makes me feel so small, and I don't know how much more of this I can take." Leon vents with you, feeling exhausted after the course.

Your voice was filled with compassion as you offered a reassuring hug. But then, you noticed something different. You already knew Leon had scars, but this was new.

"But what happened to your eye?" You glanced at him, your concern deepening.

Leon hesitated, not wanting to draw more attention to his ordeal.

"I... I must have hit it during one of the obstacles," he mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact.

You gently lifted his chin, forcing him to meet your gaze. When you saw the deep purple bruise forming around his eye, your eyes filled with anger.

"Leon, this isn't from an obstacle. Someone hurt you." You couldn't hide your frustration as you realized the truth.

Tears welled up in Leon's eyes again, but this time, they were tears of relief. He had kept the incident with Major Krauser a secret for too long, and now, someone who cared was finally noticing.

"It was Major Krauser," he admitted in a hushed voice. "He hit me after I couldn't finish the course."

"That asshole, son of a..." you muttered with every ugly word you knew. "We can't let things end like this"

"It's okay, you don't need to pick up a fight for me" Leon smiled again, his eyes still shining with tears. "Soon we'll end this training and then... I won't see him again"

"Are you sure about that, Leon?" You asked him, with visible concern and worry on your voice.

"Yes, I'm sure" he nodded, confident.

Leon was the type of guy with a hero complex. He thought he could fix everything — not noticing that sometimes, there were things beyond fixing. Each day, he returned to the dorm room full of purple marks and exhausted. Each day, you were there for him, like a true friend. You took care of his wounds and showed him support and reassurance.

Most importantly, you were there.

Leon doesn't talk about Raccoon City. Every time he tries, he shuts himself completely and cries. He avoided this topic for months because he felt he wasn't ready to share the rest of it. He wanted, but he couldn't.

You've decided not to ask more things about his life. He needed time to process everything, and the training, although cruel and painful, made him forget for a while.

But the nights were the worst.

He had nightmares, and sometimes, he would wake up screaming. Leon refused to talk about his nightmares, always thinking he shouldn't bother you with such silly things. Little did he know that you cared — a lot.

It was almost two in the morning. Leon awoke with a start, the lingering terror of his dream still clutching at his heart. Beads of cold sweat dotted his forehead as he struggled to discern the line between reality and the haunting images of Raccoon City.

The room was almost filled by a pale moonbeam that sliced through a gap in the curtains, casting eerie shadows across the walls. Breathing heavily, he tried to shake off the horrors that still clung to his mind. He couldn't go back to sleep; the nightmares always returned with a vengeance.

A soft rustle from the bed beside him caught his attention. Leon turned his head to see you, your eyes filled with concern.

"Leon, are you okay?" You spoke in a hushed, soothing tone.

He sighed, his voice trembling. "Just a nightmare, but it felt so real."

You scooted closer, your fingers reaching out to gently stroke his cheek. "Tell me about it. It might help."

Leon hesitated for a moment. But after so many months of silence, he gave up. He took a deep breath, then started to recount the horrors of his dream, the monsters, the chaos, and the relentless pursuit of survival. As he spoke, your presence provided comfort, grounding him in the real world.

When he had finished, you offered a reassuring smile. "You're safe now, Leon. Raccoon City is gone, and we're here together."

He gazed into your eyes, finding solace in the warmth and kindness he saw there. Your hand slid into his, fingers entwining as you two lay side by side.

"Thank you," he whispered, his heart slowing its panicked rhythm.

You leaned in, your lips meeting his in a soft, reassuring kiss in his forehead. As they pulled away, you murmured, "Now, try to get some rest. I'll be right here if you need me."

Leon nodded, closing his eyes, and as the remnants of his nightmare faded, he realized that the presence of you he was starting to like the help he needed to heal.

The training finally ended.

Now, you were officially a government agent, ready to serve.

After six months of pure stress, you finally ended your training. The ceremony was exactly like you imagined. But, for some reason, you weren't that happy. It was like you were missing something — or someone.

You found him after the celebration party. And he was so beautiful.

"Congrats, Agent Kennedy" You smiled at him, shaking his hands.

"Congrats to you too" he blushed a little. "I guess... I never properly thanked you... for everything"

"You don't need to thank me. You needed a friend" you said, your face blushing as well.

"Can I at least take you on a date or something?" Leon asked, and then he avoided your eyes. He was tense.

"Yes" you nodded, feeling your heart skip several beats.

And then, to your surprise, Leon kissed you. Right there, in front of everyone else. He didn't care about Krauser, the bullying, and the punishment he went through. When his lips met yours, he felt he was doing the right thing.

You both knew that you wouldn't see each other soon.

He needed to enjoy that moment. He needed you, at least one time.

You've seen his scars. You were there for him. You were exactly what he needed.

846 notes · View notes