#or i can Not look back and pretend i was never wrong

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hat in hand, thank you for your time, sex ed question: do orgasms from masturbation and orgasms from partnered sex actually feel different? Is it just the intimacy that makes people like it more?

hi anon,

great question, and I'm about to make a real meal of it.

so, first off, let's make one thing clear: the mechanisms that create an orgasm are the same regardless of the cause. no matter what's getting you off, regardless of what part of your body is being stimulated, it's the same nerves and muscles responding.

that may sound obvious, but it hasn't always. Freud, for instance, advanced the idea that vaginal and clitoral orgasms were fundamentally different, and that women who preferred to orgasm by touching their clitoris were less psychologically mature than women who preferred vaginal orgasms. fast forward to now, and we know the only difference between a clitoral and vaginal orgasm is that clitoral orgasms are generally easier, thanks to the incredible amount of nerve endings - and that many orgasms that result from vaginal penetration result at least in part from the large internal portion of the clitoris being stimulated through the vaginal wall. huge W for the clit!

now, having said that: just because the mechanics are the same doesn't mean that every orgasm is going to fee identical, or that every single thing that could produce an orgasm is going to actually work for everyone. sex with a partner can feel very different from sex with a vibrator which can feel very different from sex with just your hand, and even those individual methods aren't going to result in the exact same experience every time. there are a tremendous number of factors that influence arousal and sexual response, including many that have nothing to do with sex directly but nonetheless impact your body and mind and the way stimuli is received.

think of it as being similar to a meal - you could eat the exact same food, prepared the same way, two times and still feel very differently about depending on other factors in your day. when you're in a good mood, enjoying a day off, and able to sit with your food for as long as you like with no rush, you might savor the meal much more, take the time to appreciate the individual flavors and ingredients, and eat more in a single sitting. you might spend the rest of the day thinking about how good the food was, and look forward eagerly to the leftovers. whereas if you come to lunch on a short break from work, unable to devote much time to eating and already stressed out from an unpleasant day, you may be more likely to eat quickly to sate your hunger and zip back to work without taking much time to think about the food at all, because the meal is just fuel to keep going.

neither of these ways of eating are wrong; they both serve different needs and have a time and place. while I'd love to be able to cherish each meal, I'm certainly not going to pretend that I never eat just to have enough fuel to keep chugging until the next meal.

and, to extend this metaphor: we were imagining that was the exact same food, eaten under two very different circumstances. now factor in the infinite different kinds of food a person could eat in infinite different situations. now imagine that it's things that make you cum instead of food (which are still the same thing, for somebody out there, and to them I say congrats for speedrunning this one), and you've got a pretty good grasp on how infinitely variable the experience of orgasm is.

so: do orgasms with partners actually feel different? sure, but only in the sense that all orgasms can feel different from each other.

partnered orgasms can come with a lot of extra bells and whistles thanks to involving a whole other person (or multiple people), which opens the door to many more forms of stimulation than most people can manage on their own, as well as some inherent unpredictability - while you can, obviously, know exactly how you plan to touch yourself and receive pretty immediate feedback to how it makes you feel, but with other people you gain both the ability to be surprised and the necessity of much more communication than solo sex. all of that means that partnered sex can be a pretty substantially different experience than getting off alone - not necessarily worse or better, but definitely different, and definitely not just because of how the orgasm feels.

so why do people like it more? well, not all people do. for some people, it's vastly easier and more comfortable to just get off alone. some people like partnered sex but don't orgasm easily in the process; I'm one of those! I think I've had a grand total of one (1) sexual partner who could reliably get me off, but that didn't mean I wasn't having fun with the others - orgasm just wasn't a priority, because I went in knowing I'd probably need to finish myself off if I wanted to cum and didn't sweat it.

of course, the opposite also exists - for some people, masturbation doesn't do jack shit, and partnered sex is the way to go. some people only get off, or vastly prefer to get off, to scenarios that necessitate the presence of other people. some people aren't that interested in sex for the sake of sex, but like having a sense of connection with their partner(s).

and for many, there's no need to have a preference between getting off alone or with a partner in the first place - they're filling two different needs, without needing to be compared. why pit two bad bitches against each other? for me, getting myself off is easy and convenient, and having sex with someone else is a great way to play. both good, both serving totally different niches in my life.

tl;dr: variety in all things, babes.

[pitchsidestories]

What do you fancy love ? II (Alexia Putellas x Jenni Hermoso x Reader)

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1495

summary: Reader is just a girl who is sometimes insecure, but her girlfriends remind her how important she is to them. requested

author's note: Hi everyone, thank you anon for the request, and hopefully you and the other readers will like this little fanfic.🩷🩷

disclaimer: Everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality. Slightly smutty ending.

You studied the photo on your phone closely. Tilting the device back and forth to avoid the glare on the screen and to find evidence of what you had told yourself over and over again in the past few days. It was Alexias’s post and naturally she looked stunning on it, smiling into the camera. Jenni was captured in side profile as she was turning towards you. She looked as cool as she always did. You were sandwiched between those two gorgeous women and the longer you stared at the photo, the less you felt like you fit in.

You couldn’t resist, your thumb instinctively clicked at the little speech bubble and the comment section opened. You already knew what was about to come.

Y/n just posted .. (let's pretend reader is Teresa in this picture)

User69: Are all three of them a thing?!

userloveswoso: no way. I mean Alexia and Jenni make sense but…

xXUserXx: yeah, they’re hot together but y/n kinda ruins it. Not sure what they want with her

You felt your stomach drop and your throat tighten immediately. While you continued to scroll through the comments, Alexias’s voice echoed through your shared flat: “Amor, where are you?”

The playful sing-song in felt completely out of place.

You cleared your throat and called: “In the bedroom!”

Instead of Alexia, Jenni shouted from the hallway: “Oh, I’m coming.”

You usually would have smiled about her eagerness to get into bed but right now, your eyes were still glued to that small screen in front of you.

Alexia groaned and scolded your girlfriend: “Jennifer, you can’t possibly always think of that one thing when you hear someone say the word bedroom.”

“What can I say? I was conditioned like a Pavlovian dog.”, Jenni laughed.

You felt their presence before you actually saw them standing in the doorway.

“Hi, did you get everything at the supermarket?”, you asked, forcing your voice to sound as casual as possible without looking up at them.

From the corner of your eye, you caught your girlfriends exchanging a glance.

“So, we’re not doing it?”, Jenni asked jokingly.

“Doing what?” You finally looked up at them and upon seeing Jennis’s smirk, you added: “Oh, you’re sure you don’t want to do it without me?”

Alexia frowned at you, her eyebrows knotting together in concern: “Okay, something is wrong. Tell us what’s going through your pretty head.”

“Pretty? Me?”, you repeated as she sat down on the bed next to you.

“Of course, you, you idiot.”, Jenni grinned from where she was leaning against the wall.

In contrast to hers, Alexias’s face was serious: “You act like we never say that to you.”

“The people seem to disagree.”, you said plainly and handed her your phone with a heavy heart. Jenni came over, leaning over Alexias’s shoulder as they both read through the comments.

The midfielder shook her head in disbelief. She was hurting for you as she saw what random people, complete strangers had to say about you and your relationship with them.:” Why would they say that?”

“Maybe they’re right.”, you whispered.

With a fierce passion Jenni disagreed:” No, those hiding behind their screens are wrong.”

Alexia said your name softly.

You almost couldn’t bring yourself to look in her beautiful hazel eyes. “Hm?”

“Don’t listen to them.”, she gently replied.

In your mind's eye, the hateful comments from the internet jumped out at you, and you quietly admitted: “It’s not that easy.”

“You can’t possibly believe that shit.”, the striker waved her hands in outrage.

In a tone that did not tolerate any protest, Alexia commanded: “Put the phone away for the night.”

“But..”, you started.

The blonde was quick to interrupt you:” You heard me.”

“Yes, relax, babe.”, Jenni tried to calm you down.

However, your thoughts left you no peace: “I don’t want to relax.” You could feel the panic rising in you as you spoke.

“You should though.”, Alexia responded.

Despite the worried look on your girlfriend’s faces, you observed:” No one says those things about any of you.”

“That’s not true, but besides who cares what they think?”, the raven-haired woman countered.

“I care, Jenni!”, you cried out.

It was in this moment that your lovers realized that you were in your early twenties, your career was on the rise, you still needed to learn how to deal with all of that outside pressure which came with being a public person.

The midfielder hated to see you so sad: “Calm down.”

To her great surprise, you got out of bed and announced: ”I’ll go for a walk.”

“Do you want us to join you or..?”, Alexia asked, sounding cautious.

Purposefully, you put on your shoes. You didn't have to think long about your answer to her question: ”No.”

As soon as you were on your way out, the door was just closing, the blonde let herself fall onto the bed with a tired sigh.

“Jenni, what do we do with her?”, her eyes wandered expectantly to her girlfriend who lay next to her.

Without giving it much thought, the older of the two suggested: “We have to show her that we know better than the stupid comments.”

“How?”

A dirty smile appeared on Jennis lips: “Well.”

“What if she’s not in the mood?”, Alexia objected.

The dark-haired woman began to stare at the ceiling, confessing with a wry smile: “Then I’m out of ideas.”

“Okay, we’ll try that.”, the midfielder decided.

A surprised laugh escaped Jenni's mouth: “Really?”

“Yes.”, she confirmed in a matter-of-factly tone.

It was early evening and there was a light breeze coming in from the sea that ran through your hair. The sunset was reflected in the water, which you could see from afar.

At the beginning of your walk, the anxiety weighed heavily on your young shoulders, but now that you were almost home again, you felt the weight lighten. The peace and beauty of the moment outweighed and calmed your inner turmoil.

“I’m back.”, you told your girlfriends once you stepped inside your shared appartement.

Again, it was Alexias voice floating over to you: “Come into the bedroom.”

“Uhm, okay.“, you said before you slipped out of your shoes and took a deep breath. You really didn’t feel like talking to your girlfriends again.

“Don’t let us wait.”, Jenni called too when you took too long to follow Alexias instruction.

You reluctantly did as you were told.

The bedroom looked a little different since you left it. There were candles burning everywhere and rose petals on bed. You had no idea from where they had appeared from. But most importantly, both of your girlfriends stood there in matching lingerie.

They looked incredibly hot but the sight of them like that was so surprising that it almost made you giggle: “Oh my god.”

Alexia reached out to you, gesturing to come closer: “Come here…”

“Seriously?”, you asked with a smile, still unsure if your eyes didn’t betray you.

Alexia nodded: “Yes, you know that I’m a serious person.”

“Hard to tell when you’re standing there in your underwear.”, you laughed.

Jenni, seemingly getting more and more impatient, walked over you with that typical mischievous smirk on her lips.

“Yes, and you, pretty girl, are still wearing way too many clothes.”, she grinned, her face close to yours. Skilfully, she slid her fingers under your sweater and started to lift fabric up.

“Excuse me? I didn’t say take them off.”, you protested jokingly.

Shrugging, Jenni pulled the shirt over your head: “No but I did.”

She immediately moved farther down, opening the button of your jeans.

Laughing, you pushed her away: “Stop.”

Alexia took Jennis spot right in front of you. Her thumb grazed over your cheek while she tenderly kissed your lips.

“Baby girl, do you still want us to stop?”

You blinked at her, your brain incapable of cooperating: “Uhm…”

None of your girlfriends moved until you gave them permission to keep going.

But you couldn’t resist, the desire was too strong.

You shook your head: “No.”

The smile Alexia and Jenni shared almost washed away the memory of these nasty comments again. They seemed genuinely happy that they were allowed to take care of you. You only realised that now. It wasn’t just about what you or anyone else thought. It was about what your girlfriends wanted. And they clearly wanted you.

Before you knew it, you laid on the bed in nothing but your underwear. Jennis fingers and Alexias lips were everywhere on your body. You loved it when they did that. It was almost like their playing styles on the pitch, complimenting and enhancing each other’s skills. There was no room for your own thoughts anymore. You were so absorbed in the action that you didn’t notice your phone sliding off the nightstand and landing under the bed. And if you had, you wouldn’t have cared. Their opinions were theirs, but your girlfriends made pretty clear that you belonged to them. That you were loved and desirable.

[lexiputellas]

Broken Vows

part2 - mdni

June 12th. Laundry day.

The monstrous, all-consuming, never-ending laundry day.

You remember when laundry was as simple as dropping off a bag of clothes at the dry cleaner and picking it up a few days later, crisp and fresh. That was before. Before life became an endless cycle of dirty socks, misplaced jerseys, and sheets that always seemed to need changing.

You start in Nora’s room. Nora, who is what some might call "spirited" but what you would call an absolute tornado. She plays football, like Alexia, but in terms of clothes, she is nothing like her mother. Alexia is meticulous. Methodical. Everything folded in perfect squares, socks matched like puzzle pieces. Nora? Chaos incarnate. At one point, you even wondered if she had ADHD, but then again, navigating a six-year-old’s mind is harder than you ever anticipated.

You strip the bed, replace the sheets, and move to Iris’s room.

The moment you step inside, a memory crashes over you. You and Alexia painting the walls, carefully placing the crib, folding tiny baby clothes. You were so pregnant with Iris that you joked about rolling around instead of walking. So big, so round, so full of expectation. But the reality was different. Harder.

You cried while feeding her, your nipples raw and bleeding. Your body didn’t feel like your own, you were right on the edge—so close to falling into postpartum depression that you still wonder if you actually did. Just a breath away from giving up.

But that was then. And today, you refuse to dwell on it.

You move to your bedroom, stripping the sheets, gathering Alexia’s clothes from the bathroom floor. You wash them the way she likes—because, of course, Alexia has a very specific way she likes things done. You are halfway through making the bed when her phone slips off the mattress, landing right on your foot.

Pain explodes up your feet.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you hiss, grabbing your foot before bending down to retrieve the damn thing.

You think about texting one of the girls, letting them know Alexia left her phone at home. But as you glance at the screen, a name catches your eye.

Eva.

There are several messages. You shouldn't look. You know that. You know it’s wrong. But the urge is overwhelming.

Who the fuck is Eva?

Your heart pounds as your fingers hover over the screen. You know Alexia’s passcode. It used to be your birthday, then hers, then Nora’s. You try and it works, the messages open.

It’s not a long conversation. Not pages and pages, just a few days’ worth. But it’s enough.

*Where are you? I’m worried.*

*Did your wife give you a hard time for getting home late?*

You didn’t. You pretended to be asleep when Alexia climbed into bed last night.

*When will I see you again?*

Your stomach twists. Maybe Eva is just a friend. A close one, maybe even a best friend. But deep down, you know. You fucking know. Before you can stop yourself, your fingers move.

You type back, pretending to be Alexia.

*Last night was good.*

You hit send. Your heart is pounding.

It takes barely a moment for Eva to reply.

*Oh, just fine, yeah?* she asks, her words dripping with a quiet, simmering edge of something darker.

*Was it just good when you fucked me against the balcony?* she adds, that sharp edge now unmistakable, laced with a daring smirk you can almost hear.

You freeze. Your pulse spikes, the room spinning around you. The words blur. The world tilts.

Alexia fucked someone else.

Eva.

Eva, who?

Eva, the reason she stopped coming home for dinner?

Eva, the reason she stopped tucking the girls into bed?

Eva, the reason she started giving up on you?

The name pounds inside your skull like a drum, like a fucking rock concert reverberating through your entire being. You can’t breathe. You can’t fucking breathe.

You drop to the floor, staring up at the ceiling, hot tears pricking at your eyes.

Is Eva prettier than you? Does she fuck better than you? Is she hotter? Funnier? Nicer?

You don’t know what to do. You don’t even know how to exist in this moment.

A cry pulls you back.

Iris.

You forgot you left her in her playpen.

You wipe your tears, stand up, and go to her. She snuggles into your arms, warm and safe. You hold her close, pressing your lips against her tiny forehead, and think—What the fuck am I going to do?

———————————————

7 PM. Dinner is ready.

You always wait until 7:30 to see if Alexia is coming home. You text Jana, telling her Alexia left her phone behind. Jana just says, Okay.

Alexia arrives on time. Kit still on, hair in a messy bun, looking every bit like the woman you fell in love with. She comes straight to you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before heading to the girls, lifting them onto the kitchen counter as they sing along to something on the iPad.

She asks where her phone is.

"Upstairs," you say.

She kisses the girls again before heading up.

You had deleted the messages. Every single one. You’re not stupid.

When she comes back, phone in hand, she helps you set the table. You sit next to Iris, feeding her small bites, while Alexia chats with Nora. It feels normal. Eerily normal. Almost like the past.

You eat Dinner. Do the dishes. Put Nora to bed and Alexia tucks in Iris.

After being done you go to your bedroom, with an idea in mind.

Alexia is already there, sitting against the headboard, scrolling through her phone.

"You know what I was thinking?" you say.

She hums without looking up. "Hmm?"

"I bought something for you. Want to see it?"

Her head tilts. She looks intrigued.

You haven’t bought or worn lingerie in years. Not since you stopped feeling like the woman who used to leave Alexia breathless. But you still have some—tucked away in the back of your closet, hidden like a past life.

"Fuck, baby, yes. Show me," she says.

You step into the bathroom, slipping into the black lace. It hugs every curve, pushes up your breasts, makes you look almost unfamiliar to yourself. You barely recognize yourself.

But when you step out, Alexia does.

She stares.

Not just a glance—she looks at you like she used to, like she’s seeing something she forgot she could have. Like you’ve just stolen the air from her lungs.

Her phone slips from her fingers, forgotten.

You crawl onto her lap, slow, deliberate, feeling the heat radiating from her body the moment your thighs settle over hers.

Her hands move without hesitation—roaming, squeezing, claiming. Her breath is heavier, her fingers digging into your hips, trailing up your sides, gripping your waist like she’s trying to memorize you all over again.

"Fuck, baby," she murmurs, her lips dragging over your throat, her voice thick, ruined. "You look so fucking hot."

Her fingers move lower, tracing the lace, teasing the edge of the fabric. You roll your hips against her, slow and smooth, watching the way her jaw tenses, the way her fingers twitch against your skin.

She groans, low and guttural, her hands sliding up your back, over your shoulders, down your arms—like she needs to touch every inch of you. Her lips trail lower, hot and open-mouthed, sucking bruises into your collarbone, your breast, dragging her teeth over lace-covered skin.

Her hands are on your thighs, spreading you, guiding you against her. You grind down, chasing something desperate, moving against her fingers the second they find you—slick, eager, drowning in want. Her breath hitches as she pushes inside, stretching you, filling you.

Your forehead drops against hers, your breathing uneven, your body trembling. It’s messy. It’s hungry. It’s not enough.

And then—

You lean in, your lips ghosting over the shell of her ear, and whisper—

"Does Eva fuck like I do?"

Everything stops.

Alexia’s hands freeze inside you, her breath catching in her throat.

She pulls back just enough to see your face, her brows furrowing, her eyes flashing with something dark, something uncertain, something dangerously close to breaking.

She looks at you like she doesn’t understand.

Like she doesn’t want to understand.

You smile.

"Yeah, Alexia," you whisper, voice sharp, taunting, twisting the knife. "I’m not fucking blind."

[darkwicks]

Fall From Grace

Caleb gives you a little encouragement.

PAIRING.⠀Xia Yizhou | Caleb x Reader

CONTENT.⠀female reader | begging, corruption, teasing, vaginal sex. Caleb is a menace. | ~0,6k words

A/N.⠀let's unlearn shame together........ (i say as if i'm not going to pretend this never happened)

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

“Caleb, it’s too much…!”

You pushed your hands against him as you tried to squirm away from his relentless assault against your core. The wet squelches between your legs made the tips of your ears burn red, shame and guilt brewing deep within your gut. It was embarrassing to be naked in front of him like this, even more so being under his heated gaze as he never took his eyes off of you. His hands pushed your knees against your chest, practically folding you in half as he chuckled through his panting, fingers digging into your skin.

“Don’t be shy,” he cooed. “Couples do this all the time. Didn’t you know that?”

You brought your hand up to cover your eyes, turning your head to the side. The pleasure building up inside of you was making it difficult to focus, and you knew you should be letting it go, but you couldn’t. You were committing a sin, an act of hedonism, and your family would lose their minds if they found out what you were doing. The shame was growing strong, and yet, your heart raced in excitement.

There was something… satisfying about breaking out of the rules you’ve been given. You felt different, mature, but it was still hard getting rid of the negativity within you. You threw your head back against the pillow, shaky, breathy moans escaping your lips.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” His lips curled into a smile, pleased at your display. “It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with this.”

“Caleb,” you whimpered. “You’re so mean.”

“I’m mean?” He huffed, amused. He slowed down his thrusts, the act both relieving and horrifying you as your eyes snapped open, staring at him in disbelief. “Guess I won’t keep this up, then.”

You kicked your feet petulantly, pouting when he grabbed and stopped you with ease.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I can’t say it,” you mumbled, covering your face with your hands. “Please don’t make me say it.”

“You can,” Caleb said with a soft lilt. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

Your breath hitched at his vulgarity. “I-I can’t.”

“Then I won’t.” He slowly pulls his hips back, his hardness rubbing against your slick walls as he did so. You peeked at him from the gap between your fingers, cheeks heating up under his stare. “Guess we’ll stop here—”

“No!” you blurted out. Your hands were shaking. He gently pried them away, gently holding them in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. The smile never left his features.

“Then say it.”

You felt as though the world was closing in on you as all your blood rushed to your face, heart pounding hard against your ribcage. His gaze was intense and made you want to sink into the mattress, to disappear, but as he was about to fully pull out, you frantically brought your legs down to wrap them around his waist and pulled him close.

Averting your eyes, you mumbled quietly, “Please fuck me.”

“I can’t hear you, pipsqueak.”

“Why are you doing this to me?!” you whined. He laughed softly and leaned down to gently kiss you, hands squeezing your hips warmly. Your bottom lip jutted into a pout as you looked up at him pleadingly, eyes glassy with tears. “W-Want you to fuck me, Caleb.”

He slid back in, making your toes curl. “There we go. Wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

The way you brought your hands over your face again made him chuckle again. His hips rolled into yours, easily pinning you to the mattress as you helplessly gasped and moaned beneath him. His lips travelled your jaw to the side of your neck, lightly nipping at your skin just to keep you on your toes. Your dazed, flustered expression brought forth mischief and satisfaction. You’d cave in eventually. You just needed a little encouragement—you’d be addicted to him soon.

[arxiwon]

hi hi! can i request a fic where the reader and jake are childhood best friends (joined at the hip, did everything together), and one day when they’re in high school/college he suddenly realizes he likes her and starts acting awkward around her and stuff and the reader’s just like ??? fluff with a tiny bit of angst please!! 🫶🏼

Sure honey, I'll make this one shot 🤍

More Than Best Friends

Pairing: Jake × Reader

Genre: Childhood Friends-to-Lovers, Fluff, Slight Angst

Synopsis: You and Jake have been inseparable since childhood, always side by side, always just friends. At least, that's what you thought—until he starts acting strange. Avoiding your touch, dodging eye contact, getting awkward around you. Something's wrong, and when you finally confront him, he blurts out the one thing that could change everything.

Jake had always been by your side.

From the moment you scraped your knee in kindergarten and he dramatically declared himself your "lifelong protector," to the time he snuck out of his house at midnight just to bring you ice cream after a bad day—he was always there.

People called you two inseparable, and it was true. Where there was you, there was Jake, and vice versa.

But lately… something was off.

Jake wasn’t acting like himself.

It started small—he’d randomly get quiet in the middle of a conversation, like he forgot how to speak. His usual teasing remarks were cut short, replaced with nervous laughter. And the worst part? He had started avoiding eye contact, which was just weird because Jake had never been shy a day in his life.

At first, you thought maybe he was going through something. You tried asking, but he just brushed it off with a lame excuse.

Then came the physical distance.

Jake, your Jake, who had never hesitated to throw an arm over your shoulder or dramatically collapse onto you like you were a human pillow, suddenly stiffened whenever you got too close.

It was driving you insane.

So, naturally, you confronted him.

"Okay, spill it," you said, standing in front of him as he sat on the edge of your bed, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie.

He looked up, eyes wide. "Spill what?"

"You! Acting weird. Acting like I suddenly have cooties or something. If I did something, tell me."

His ears turned red. That was new.

"You didn’t do anything," he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

You crossed your arms. "Then what is it?"

He swallowed hard. You saw his fingers dig into the fabric of his hoodie like he was holding onto it for dear life.

"Jake."

He exhaled sharply, finally meeting your eyes. And for the first time in weeks, you saw something raw there—something vulnerable.

"I like you."

The words hung between you like a held breath.

Your heart stuttered. "...What?"

"I like you," he repeated, a little firmer this time. "Like, not in a best friend way. In a—" He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "God, I don’t know. I just—one day I looked at you and realized I wanted to hold your hand for real. Not in a joking way. Not because we’re messing around. Because I actually want to. And it freaked me out, okay?"

You blinked.

Then blinked again.

Jake… liked you?

Your Jake?

Your brain was short-circuiting.

Meanwhile, he was growing more and more restless, clearly taking your silence as rejection.

"Look, just—forget I said anything, alright? It’s fine. We can pretend it didn’t—"

"Shut up, Jake."

He blinked, stunned. "Huh?"

Your face was burning, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "I didn’t say I don’t like you back."

The sheer hope that flooded his expression nearly knocked the wind out of you.

"Wait. Are you serious?"

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. "I mean, yeah, you idiot. Did you really think you could confess and I’d just be like, ‘Okay, thanks for sharing, let’s go back to being normal’?"

His mouth opened and closed, as if he hadn’t considered that possibility.

Then, after a beat—

"Can I hold your hand now?"

Your chest tightened, and you huffed out a laugh. "You’re ridiculous."

But you took his hand anyway.

[sturniololuvz]

siblings walk in on one of the brothers receiving head

lol!!

“Walked in at the Wrong Time”

Sturniolos x sister

Nick, Matt, and Y/N had been chilling in the living room when Y/N groaned dramatically.

“Chris said he’d be back ten minutes ago, and I need my charger from his room.”

Matt barely looked up. “Then go get it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “His door’s locked.”

Nick, being the impatient one, sighed and stood up. “Fine, I’ll get it.”

He stomped toward Chris’s room, Matt and Y/N following close behind. Without hesitation, he knocked once and then—without thinking—pushed the door open.

And that was the moment everything fell apart.

Chris’s panicked voice rang out. “WHAT THE FU—”

Y/N screamed.

“WHY DOES IT LOOK LIKE THAT?!” she yelled. “EW, EW, EW!!”

Nick slammed the door shut so fast it nearly took Matt’s nose off.

Matt stood there, absolutely horrified. “What did I just witness?”

Nick wheezed, hands on his knees like he had just run a marathon. “Bro. What the hell?”

Y/N was already halfway down the hall, covering her eyes. “I hate this house. I hate all of you. I CAN NEVER UNSEE THAT!”

Chris, still behind the door, yelled, “WHY DIDN’T YOU KNOCK?!”

Nick, still trying to process what he saw, shouted back, “I did knock, Chris!”

“NOT HARD ENOUGH!”

Matt gagged. “I’m actually sick to my stomach. WHO EVEN WAS THAT?!”

“NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!” Chris yelled.

Nick groaned, rubbing his temples. “I need bleach for my brain.”

Matt shook his head. “Nah, Y/N’s the real victim here. Bro, we just traumatized our baby sister.”

From down the hall, Y/N yelled, “I’M PRETENDING NONE OF THIS EVER HAPPENED!”

Nick sighed. “Yeah, me too. I’m blocking this memory out forever.”

Chris groaned from behind the door. “Can you guys PLEASE never bring this up again?”

Nick and Matt looked at each other.

Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

Because for the rest of his life, any time Chris tried to act cocky, Nick would smirk and say, “Hey, remember when Y/N screamed ‘why does it look like that’—”

“SHUT UP, NICK!”

And that was the day Chris’s dignity died.

[briefinquiries]

Under the Blood Moon | Peaky Blinders | Chapter 7

Tommy Shelby x Reader : Chapter 7

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Fic Summary: You came to Birmingham for a fresh start, to bury the past and keep your head down. As a former nurse in the war, you’ve seen enough blood and death to last a lifetime. But fate (and the Shelby’s) have other plans. After stitching Tommy Shelby back together, you find yourself drawn further into their world, a world of violence, loyalty, and power. When Tommy offers you a job, it comes with more than just good pay, it comes with expectations and lines you never planned to cross.

Chapter summary: After an unsettling night at the Garrison, you begin to understand that Tommy Shelby’s bad moods are rarely without reason. When a familiar face confronts you outside the pub, you realize you’ve drawn the attention of someone dangerous. Forced to tread carefully, you play your part, but the encounter leaves you with more questions than answers.

Word count: 7k

Warnings: Violence, injury, mentions of blood, gore, and open wounds, brief PTSD and war flashbacks, alcohol use, and mild language.

--

The party was still in full swing when you slipped out the back door– the warmth and noise of the Garrison fading as soon as it swung shut behind you.

Your boots clicked softly against the damp pavement as you started walking. 

Your hands were still trembling. You clenched your fists, trying to shake it off. But the weight of Tommy’s words, the sharp, cutting way he had looked at you, like you were an inconvenience, a problem that needed to be corrected, still clung to your skin like an ugly bruise.

The thing was… you hadn’t even fucked up. At least, you didn’t think you had. Arthur took a swig of the whiskey you’d poured him right there at the bar– he even toasted to you. 

But even if you had given Arthur the wrong whiskey, did that really warrant a public dressing-down? 

Harry had taken one look at you after Tommy stormed off, muttered something about “Fuckin’ Shelby moods” and told you to take the rest of the night off.

You hadn’t argued.

You didn’t want to be there anymore, didn’t want to stand behind that bar and pretend everything was fine when the weight of Tommy’s words still sat heavy in your chest.

So you left.

And now, as the damp night air curled around you, you tried to shake off the feeling of humiliation still burning beneath your skin.

You were so caught up in your own head that you almost didn’t notice the figure stepping out from the shadows ahead of you.

Your breath hitched slightly, your pace slowing on instinct.

The man was standing just off to the side of the road, hands clasped behind his back, posture upright and intentional. Not a drunk stumbling home. Not a lost traveler.

He had been waiting.

And when he took a step forward, the dim light of a nearby lamp caught his face– Your stomach twisted.

You knew him.

The same man from the market, who had slipped into the Garrison without being noticed. 

Your pulse picked up, and you forced your expression into something neutral.

He offered a polite, almost cordial smile. “Evening, Miss.”

You swallowed, shifting your weight slightly. “Can I help you?”

His head tilted slightly. “I hope you can.”

Your brows furrowed. 

He stepped forward again, slow and measured. “I couldn’t help but notice you at the Garrison tonight. You’re new there, aren’t you?”

Your stomach tightened, but you kept your expression even. “Been there a few weeks.”

He hummed, like that was something of interest to him. “And before that?”

Your spine stiffened slightly.

You hesitated for only a second before responding, voice careful. “Before that, I wasn’t working for the Shelbys, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The man’s smirk was brief, but pointed. “Is that so?”

You exhaled, crossing your arms. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what you’re asking, Mr…” your voice trailed off as you waited for him to offer his name.

He did, though not without a small, knowing smile. “Campbell.”

You swallowed. “And what exactly do you do, Mr. Campbell?”

Campbell studied you for a long moment, then gave you another one of those polite, curt smiles. “I look into things.”

Your pulse jumped, but you kept your expression neutral.

Campbell took another slow step forward, hands still clasped behind his back, posture as stiff and calculated as his words. “And tell me,” he continued, voice smooth, almost pleasant, “what exactly have you seen in your time working for the Shelbys?”

“I pour drinks,” you said simply. “I wipe down the bar. I keep the books when Harry needs an extra hand.” You tilted your head slightly, feigning confusion. “Is there something specific you’re hoping I’ve seen?”

Campbell exhaled sharply through his nose, the ghost of amusement flickering across his face. “Come now, Miss. I think we both know that the Shelbys deal in more than just whiskey.”

Your stomach twisted, a slow coil of unease, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You met his gaze, willing your expression to remain impassive despite the prickle of sweat at the nape of your neck. You couldn’t let him see you waver. Couldn’t let him pick apart the cracks in your carefully constructed armor.

“I know Mr. Shelby keeps horses,” you said evenly.

Campbell’s smile was slow, condescending. “Yes, and the devil wears his Sunday best, but we both know what he really is.” He took a step closer, the air between you growing thick with unspoken threats. “I’ll ask you again– what do you know about their business?”

Your jaw tightened. Tommy had been a right bastard earlier, cold and cutting as ever, but still, there was something in you, some irrational, unshakable instinct, that made you want to protect him. Protect all of them. The Shelbys had a way of pulling you into their storm and making you feel like you belonged there, even when you knew better. Even when it was dangerous. Even when Tommy made it impossible to forget that you were expendable to him, that he could push you away whenever it suited him.

And yet, here you were, standing in front of Campbell, lying through your teeth for a man who just berated you in front of the entire pub.

“I wouldn’t know,” you replied evenly. “They don’t exactly tell the barmaid their business, funny enough.”

Campbell’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t let his irritation show. Not yet. “Do they talk about the horses?” he asked.

That, at least, was an easy answer.

“Yes.” You nodded, careful to keep your expression neutral. “They’re betting men. Own a few racers.”

Campbell tilted his head slightly. “That all?”

You shrugged. “That’s all I know.”

He let the silence stretch between you, his sharp eyes watching, searching. You didn’t waver.

Finally, he gave you a small, unreadable smile.

“Very well,” he murmured. “I appreciate your time. Goodnight, Miss.”

You forced yourself to offer a polite nod. You didn’t thank him. Instead, you turned on your heel, before walking away at an even pace. Not too fast. Not too slow. And the entire time, you felt his gaze lingering on you.

Watching.

Waiting.

You couldn’t get home fast enough. Your heart was still racing by the time you reached your front door, breath uneven, pulse thudding in your ears. You fumbled with the key for a moment before finally shoving the door open, stepping inside and shutting it firmly behind you, twisting the lock into place.

Then, for what felt like the first time since leaving the Garrison, you exhaled.

Your mind raced, replaying every second of the encounter with Campbell, dissecting every word, every shift in his expression. 

Who the hell was he?

You had no idea if he was police, if he was working for someone else, if he was just another enemy in whatever war the Shelbys were waging. But the way he had questioned you, the way he had watched you, searched you, made your skin crawl.

Then, as if on command, your mind flickered back to the bar, to the way Tommy had stood too close, his voice cutting sharp as a blade.

The words had cracked like a whip, dragging everyone’s attention to you whether they wanted it or not. Because it wasn’t just what he had said. It was the way he had said it– like you were foolish, like you were insignificant, like you hadn’t earned your place in their world despite everything you had done to prove otherwise.

You shook off the thought, pushing your coat from your shoulders and setting it on the hook. Your hands were still shaking slightly as you moved through your usual nighttime routine, lighting a candle and placing it on the small table near the window.

You needed to calm down.

You moved through the motions, grounding yourself in ritual– setting out a glass of water, washing your hands, brushing the dust from the windowsill. Little things. Familiar things. 

Tea. Candlelight. Wash the day away. You reminded yourself. 

But then–

Bang.

A fierce knock at the door.

Your stomach twisted.

Your eyes flickered toward the candle, the only source of light in the room, the flame dancing wildly from the sudden jolt of sound.

Another knock. Harder this time.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to move.

Slowly, cautiously, you approached the door, wondering if you should even entertain asking who was there. What if Mr. Campbell had more questions that you couldn’t answer? 

Just before you reached for the handle– 

A voice, low and familiar, rang out. “Open the door.”

You hesitated for only a second before undoing the lock and pulling the door open.

Tommy Shelby stood on your doorstep, coat damp from the lingering mist in the air, eyes sharp, unreadable.

His gaze flickered over you, scanning your face, before settling on your wide-eyed expression.

His jaw tightened.

“What did Campbell want with you?”

Before you could even offer a response, Tommy pushed his way inside.

You stepped back on instinct, barely catching the door before it could slam into the wall. He moved past you without hesitation, shaking off his coat and tossing his flat cap onto the nearest chair.

You stared at him, still gripping the edge of the door, your pulse racing from the way he had stormed in like he owned the place.

“What–” You swallowed, trying to steady yourself. “What the hell are you doing?”

Tommy exhaled sharply through his nose, ignoring your question completely. His jaw was clenched so tight you thought it might crack.

“What did he ask you?” he demanded, still pacing. “What did he say?”

You hesitated, your fingers twitching at your sides.

“Who is he?” you asked instead, your voice careful, despite the tangle of emotions raging inside of you. 

Tommy stopped pacing just long enough to pin you with a sharp, cold stare. “He’s a problem,” he muttered. Then, after a beat, “And I need to know exactly what he said to you.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, but the weight of the entire day was pressing down on you. 

You were so tired.

Tired of being snapped at. Tired of being humiliated in front of an entire pub. Tired of Tommy Shelby acting like you were a problem one second and something worth his time the next.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as you exhaled slowly, trying to push past the sting in your chest.

“He asked how long I’ve been working at the Garrison,” you said, voice quieter than before. “Asked what I know about your business.”

Tommy’s eyes darkened. “And?”

You lifted your chin slightly, fighting to keep your emotions in check. “And I told him the truth. That I know nothing. That you deal with horses. That’s it.”

Tommy watched you closely, like he was picking apart your words, searching for something unsaid. “Did he ask you anything else?” 

You opened your mouth to answer, but Tommy cut you off before you could get a single word out.

“Did he mention any names?”

You frowned. “No, but–”

“Did he threaten you?”

Your frustration spiked. “No–”

“Did you–”

“Jesus Christ, will you let me fucking talk?” The words exploded from you before you could stop them, your voice sharp, breaking through the tight space between you.

Tommy’s mouth snapped shut.

You could feel the heat behind your eyes, the sting of everything, the exhaustion, the frustration, the way he had been so cruel– only an hour ago, and spent the past week pushing you away, only to show up at your door demanding answers like you owed him something.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, your voice raw when you finally spoke again.

“I am so fucking tired of you talking at me.” Your hands trembled as you jabbed a finger toward him. “You either ignore me or snap at me or decide when I’m worth speaking to, and I am–” you exhaled sharply, shaking your head, “I am so done trying to figure out what the hell I did to piss you off.” 

Tommy didn't speak right away. Instead, he just stood there, watching you, his eyes dark and unreadable, his breath coming a little heavier than before. You hated that silence. That cold, infuriating patience of his.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply through his nose. "You didn’t do anything."

You let out a hollow laugh, disbelieving. "Really? Because you’ve spent the last week acting like I did."

Tommy inhaled slowly, dragging a hand over his face, before exhaling just as deliberately. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, lower, more measured than before. “I was trying to keep any of this from happening.”

Your breath was still uneven, your chest still tight from everything that had boiled over moments ago. “What are you talking about?”

Tommy didn’t answer right away. He rolled his shoulders, almost like he was trying to shake something off before meeting your gaze again, calmer now. “Campbell’s got his eye on us– on me. He’s looking for any reason to dig deeper. The last thing I needed was for him to think you had anything to do with our world.”

Your brows pulled together. “I don’t have anything to do with your world.”

Tommy’s expression didn’t change. “You patched up James.”

Your brows furrowed. “And?”

Tommy let out a slow, measured breath, watching you carefully. “James isn’t… he isn’t just a Blinder,” he explained. “He’s wanted. By Campbell.”

Your stomach twisted at his words. “Wanted for what?”

Tommy exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “He’s been running jobs for me. Big ones. Campbell’s been after him for months.”

You swallowed hard, something cold settling in your chest. “So Campbell knows?”

“He knows someone patched him up. I think he’s making connections.” Tommy’s voice was steady, but there was an edge to it now. Tommy must have seen the panic in your face because his expression shifted, his voice lowering. “Listen to me.”

You met his eyes, the steel in them keeping you from unraveling completely.

“I know what Campbell’s capable of,” he said, his voice even but firm. “Because I work with him.”

You blinked. “What?”

Tommy’s jaw tightened.

“I don't have a choice,” he said. “He has leverage. Things he can use to break us. So, I play his game.” His gaze flickered, as if the memories had sharp edges. “I do what I need to do to keep the family safe. To keep them alive. Campbell’s the kind of man who doesn’t let go of things,” Tommy continued. “Not grudges. Not power. If he thinks he can use you, he will. If he thinks you’re in his way…” His voice trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish.

Tommy watched you for a moment before speaking. “I think he’s trying to figure out where you fit into all of this.”

Your stomach twisted painfully.

“I didn’t want you anywhere near this,” he said, and for the first time since he’d stormed through your door, his voice didn’t carry that usual edge of control– it almost sounded like he meant it. “I thought… if he saw me talk to you like you were just a barmaid, he might actually think that was true.”

“So you humiliated me on purpose.” You huffed a humorless laugh, crossing your arms. 

Tommy’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t look away. He didn’t deny it. “I needed Campbell to think you were nothing,” he said plainly, voice low. “That you weren’t involved, that you didn’t matter to any of this.”

“Well, congratulations. You did a hell of a job making me feel like I was nothing.”

His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t immediately reply. 

You took a step back, exhaling through your nose. “Christ, you could have told me.”

“I thought it would look more genuine if you didn't know.”

“You don’t get to treat me like that! Like I’m some disposable piece of shit you found on the street,” you snapped, voice raw with emotion. “Like I’m just another thing to be used when it suits you and tossed aside when it doesn’t. I’ve spent the last week trying to figure out what I did wrong,” you went on, your voice rising. “One minute, you walk me home– act like you give a damn, and the next, you’re humiliating me in front of a bar full of people. Acting like I’m some incompetent idiot you barely tolerate to hang around.”

Tommy held your gaze, steady and unwavering. “I do give a damn,” he sighed, voice lower now, rougher. “More than I should. That’s why I did it. You weren’t supposed to get involved… not like this. You were supposed to stay on the outside of all this.”

You froze, blinking at him, your breath still heavy, your pulse still thrumming in your ears. Finally, you let out a slow, uneven breath, your anger slowly fading. “Well, it’s a bit late for that, don’t you think? I mean, you don’t get to treat me like that, Tommy. You don’t get to decide when I matter and when I don’t. I’m here– I stitched up James, I just lied through my teeth to Campbell. I'm pretty far from the bloody outside. But I know what I bloody signed up for. So stop using me like a pawn in your little game without at least giving me the courtesy of telling me about it, first.”

His expression didn’t shift, but something in his eyes flickered. You knew he was used to control, to making all the choices, to moving people around like chess pieces without them even realizing it.

Tommy exhaled slowly, cigarette still balanced between his fingers. His sharp gaze flickered over your face, his jaw tightening just slightly, like he was weighing his options, deciding what move to make next.

Then, after a long pause, he simply said, "Okay."

You blinked. "What?"

Tommy sighed, rolling his shoulders as if this conversation had worn him out. "Okay," he repeated. 

Your arms stayed crossed tightly over your chest, your pulse still thrumming in your ears. "That easy?" you asked, suspicion creeping into your voice. 

Tommy exhaled another slow drag of smoke, tilting his head slightly. "Would you prefer I argue with you about it?"

You let out a short, humorless laugh. "I’d prefer you actually mean it."

Tommy’s brows pulled together slightly. "I do."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Forgive me for not entirely believing you, but you just spent the last week acting like I was worse than the scum under your shoe. And now, what? You just say okay?" Your voice was sharp, unwavering. 

His jaw tightened, but this time, you saw it– the flicker of something in his eyes, something unguarded, something that told you he wasn’t as composed as he wanted you to think.

You huffed a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "You’re such a bastard."

His lips twitched, his face unreadable. “Aye. That I am.”

You gazed at him skeptically, slightly taken aback by his submissive stance to the situation. Tommy Shelby didn’t strike you as the type of person to admit he was wrong. And the fact that he was doing exactly that… in his own way, made the armor in your chest soften the slightest bit. 

Tommy shifted slightly, rolling his shoulders, his cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. He glanced away for a brief moment, exhaling smoke, before his gaze flickered back to you. Then, finally, he sighed. "Look, if it helps… We run racecourses– legal ones and the kind that aren't. That’s where the real money is."

Your breath hitched slightly. You'd known there was more to their dealings, but hearing him say it out loud? It made it real.

Tommy continued. "We take protection money from businesses that want to keep their windows intact. We run bets. Move goods. Some of it’s clean. Some of it’s not." He tilted his head slightly. "Campbell wants to make it sound worse than it is. But you’re clever enough to know that corruption runs in every part of this city– including the ones he works for."

You searched his face, trying to make sense of this version of Tommy Shelby– the man who wasn’t arguing, who wasn’t pushing for control. "Why tell me all this now?"

His jaw clenched slightly, and for a second, you thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then, his voice came low, rough. "Because I don’t want you looking at me like that."

Your brows pulled together. "Like what?"

He inhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "Like I broke something I can’t fix."

Your throat felt tight, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze. 

Tommy watched you carefully, measuring your reaction. "Look, if you’re in, you have to trust me," he said. "That’s the only way this works. But I want you to know the kind of fight you’re walking into. As well as the kind of men Campbell answers to."

You exhaled slowly, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. "And what kind of men are they?"

Tommy’s expression darkened, his blue eyes turning to ice. "The kind that don’t leave loose ends."

He took a step closer, his voice quieter but no less firm. "Campbell isn’t just after me. He’s after control. He wants to crush the Blinders and make an example out of anyone who stands in his way." He paused, jaw tightening. "That includes you now."

You held his gaze, searching for any sign of deception, any hint that this was just another manipulation. But all you saw was truth. Hard, unflinching truth.

The worst part was– you believed him. 

You sighed. “I had a whole speech prepared– Reasons why you should tell me more… reasons why you should let me help.”  

A brief flicker of amusement, gone as quickly as it had appeared, flashed across his face. He took another slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling smoke into the dimly lit room. “That so?” he murmured, voice low, steady. “Well, by all means, let’s hear it.”

You exhaled, shaking your head, your arms still folded tightly across your chest. The tension between you had thinned, but it wasn’t entirely gone– still lingering beneath the surface like embers that hadn’t quite burned out.

“That’s alright,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “I think I’ll save it.”

Tommy arched a brow, waiting.

“I never know when you’re going to start acting like a bastard again. I might need it later.”

That time, he exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head as he flicked the ash from his cigarette. “Right,” he muttered dryly. "If you do save it, make it a good one."

You let out a small, tired chuckle, though the exhaustion still clung to you. “I will.”

His lips twitched, just barely.

"Does that mean you’re finally going to be honest with me?" you dared to ask. 

His jaw tightened, and for a long moment, he simply looked at you– measuring, considering.

Tommy inhaled slowly, letting the silence stretch between you, his sharp gaze locked onto yours. "Yeah," he murmured. "Suppose it does." 

Tommy’s gaze flickered over your face, searching, waiting for hesitation, for regret. "You stay now, there’s no running away later,” he said. 

Your breath was tight in your chest, but your voice was firm when you finally spoke. "I wasn’t planning on running."

For a second, something in his face shifted. Not surprise, but something else. Something almost like... admiration.

Then, just like that, the flicker was gone, replaced by that cool, unreadable expression again.

Tommy nodded once, slow and deliberate. "Alright. Get some rest, then."

You hesitated for just a second, watching him walk towards the door. He didn’t say it like a suggestion. He said it like a command. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Shelby,” you replied. 

You caught the way he paused at that, the way his cigarette lingered between his fingers, his head tilting just slightly.

Then, after a beat, he said, “Stop calling me that.”

You lifted your brows in amusement. “What?”

Tommy sighed, “Anyone brave enough to call me a bastard to my face can call me by my first name.”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. “Alright then,” you said, voice quieter now. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

His lips twitched again– just slightly, but it was there.

“Goodnight,” he murmured. 

…

You had spent the next few days turning over your last conversation with Tommy, picking apart his words, the way his voice had softened, just barely, when he admitted you weren’t nothing to him. The way he had let you in, even if only a fraction.

True to form, he hadn’t mentioned it again. He hadn’t tried to explain himself further or reassure you. He had simply gone on being Tommy– stoic, calculating, always one step ahead of the rest of the world.

But something had shifted.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know him. But you did, or at least, you were beginning to.

He still kept his distance, still carried that sharp edge of authority wherever he went, but there were moments– fleeting, barely-there moments, where you caught him watching you like he was waiting for something. Like he was measuring this new version of your place in his world.

And while he hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to make things easier, you hadn’t missed the change in how others treated you, either.

No more cold shoulders. No more skeptical glances. 

It started small– checking the books, keeping an eye on deliveries, noticing when numbers didn’t add up, but it had grown into something else entirely. Now, you weren’t just counting crates of whiskey; you were keeping tabs on who came and went, who talked too much, who looked nervous when Tommy’s name was mentioned. You had learned that a missing shipment wasn’t just a mistake, it was a message. That a man running his mouth about the Blinders one night often ended up with a bruised face the next. Tommy hadn’t sat you down and explained the rules of his world, he had let you figure them out on your own. And the worst part? You had. You weren’t just a barmaid anymore, not really.

You knew it. And so did Tommy.

And now, as you wiped down the last of the glasses in the near-empty Garrison, you felt it again– the weight of something hanging in the air.

You glanced up just in time to see Tommy approaching, his movements slow and deliberate. His coat was already off, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows– like he had settled in, like he had time.

That was rare.

He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned against the counter, reaching for the glass you had just cleaned. He turned it over in his hands, running his thumb along the rim, his expression unreadable.

You exhaled sharply, crossing your arms. "Alright. What is it?"

Tommy arched a brow, finally looking up at you. "What?"

"You never just... sit," you said, nodding toward him. "Not unless there’s a reason."

His lips twitched, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he tapped a cigarette from his pack, lighting it with a slow drag before speaking.

"I need you to do something for me," he said, exhaling smoke into the low-lit room.

…

Later that night, the Garrison was nearly empty, the low glow of lanterns casting flickering shadows across the bar. You wiped down the counter, letting the hum of the quiet night settle around you. 

Which was why you weren’t surprised when the door creaked open and a new kind of tension settled in your chest.

You didn’t have to look up to know who had walked in.

Mr. Campbell.

His heavy boots echoed against the wooden floor as he approached, a picture of cold confidence in his perfectly pressed suit. He didn’t belong here—not in the way the usual men did. The Blinders carried violence in their hands, but Campbell carried it like a quiet threat beneath his skin.

"Evening, Miss," he greeted smoothly, settling onto a stool in front of you. His voice was controlled, measured.

You forced your grip to stay relaxed around the cloth in your hand, offering him a polite nod. "Mr. Campbell."

He hummed as he pulled off his gloves, setting them neatly on the bar. "I’m looking for Mr. Shelby.”

You nodded, reaching for a glass. "He should be back soon."

Campbell hummed again, slow and thoughtful, like he had all the time in the world. "Then I suppose I’ll wait."

You forced a neutral expression. “Whiskey?” you asked. You waited for him to nod before you poured him a drink. 

The liquid sloshed softly in the glass, the only sound between you as he watched you too closely– assessing, searching for something.

“How have you been enjoying your time here?” he asked. 

The casual question made your pulse tick up, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you shrugged, placing his drink in front of him. "I like it enough.”

Campbell smiled– tight, knowing. "I imagine you see some things."

Before you could respond, the doors to the Garrison swung open, letting in a gust of cold air and the heavy sound of boots against the wooden floor.

Tommy.

He entered with purpose, slow and deliberate, his coat unbuttoned, cigarette already in hand. His gaze swept the room once before locking onto the two of you at the bar.

And something flickered inside you.

It was quick, unexpected. A brief, unsteady jolt in your chest, something that had nothing to do with fear, nothing to do with the plan.

It was the way he carried himself, the quiet authority that demanded attention without needing to ask for it. The way his eyes, sharp, calculating, found yours first, even if only for a second, before flicking to Campbell.

You swallowed hard, shoving whatever this feeling was, down, forcing yourself to keep your posture neutral. 

"Campbell." His voice was flat, unreadable.

Campbell barely turned his head. "Mr. Shelby."

Tommy strode forward, settling beside Campbell at the bar like he had all the time in the world. Like he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see him sitting there.

He glanced at you once– brief and fleeting, before tilting his chin toward the bottle. "Pour me one."

You moved without hesitation, sliding a glass in front of him as he took out his cigarette case. His movements were calm, measured, as he tapped one out and lit it, exhaling smoke through his nose.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Inspector. Campbell?"

Campbell took a slow sip of his whiskey before setting the glass down neatly. "Just checking in. Making sure you remember our… arrangement."

Tommy smirked faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Hard to forget when you keep sniffing around."

The tension stretched between them, coiling tight like a wire about to snap.

Campbell turned slightly, eyeing you again before speaking. "Your barmaid here was just keeping me company."

Tommy exhaled smoke, leaning against the counter with calculated nonchalance. "That right?"

Your stomach twisted, but you stayed steady, busying yourself with straightening bottles.

Campbell hummed again. "It’s a shame, really. Being in a place like this, working for a man like you."

Tommy’s gaze lingered on Campbell for a moment longer before he exhaled a slow stream of smoke, tilting his head slightly. "No sense in talking business out here, eh?" His voice was casual, but the weight behind it was anything but. "Why don’t we step into the back?"

Campbell hummed, swirling the last of his whiskey in his glass. "Lead the way, then."

Tommy nodded, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray before pushing off the barstool. He adjusted his coat, already turning toward the hallway.

That was your cue.

You reached for the glass beside Campbell’s, fingers just slightly unsteady, just careless enough. As Tommy turned, you made a sudden, deliberate movement, just enough to send the full glass of whiskey spilling forward, drenching the front of his shirt and coat.

"Shit!" The exclamation left your mouth before he could react, and you snatched a rag off the counter, reaching toward him in a hurried, useless apology. "Oh, God, I’m so sorry, Mr. Shelby. I–"

Tommy jerked away from your touch sharply, his jaw clenching as he stared down at the spreading stain, his fists twitching like he was deciding whether to hit something or walk away.

When he looked up, his eyes were cold, cutting.

"Fucking useless," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Campbell to hear.

You flinched. Trying to sell it. 

Your hands tightened around the cloth as you stepped back, bowing your head slightly like you were expecting worse.

Tommy scoffed, shaking his head in disgusted dismissal before exhaling sharply, straightening his coat. He turned back to Campbell with a forced smirk, like this was just another inconvenience in a long list of them.

"Apologies, Mr. Campbell. I hate to waste more time, but I’ll need to change."

Campbell chuckled under his breath, casting you a side glance that made your skin crawl. "No need to apologize, Mr. Shelby. I quite enjoy the entertainment."

Tommy didn’t acknowledge Campbell’s remark, just let out a sharp breath, muttering something under his breath before striding toward the back, shoulders tense with barely-contained irritation.

You kept your eyes down as he left, hands still gripping the cloth, still playing the part.

The moment the door swung shut behind him, the air shifted.

Campbell exhaled slowly, leaning back against the bar, stretching out his fingers like he had all the time in the world. "Cruel man, isn’t he?"

You hesitated, just for a second– just enough to make it believable, before shaking your head weakly, giving him the reaction he was looking for. "I spilled a drink on him," Your voice was quieter now, unsteady. “That’s just how Mr. Shelby is.”

Campbell hummed, eyes sharp, calculating. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice like he was sharing some great truth you hadn’t yet realized.

"No, my dear," he said smoothly. "That isn’t just how he is. That’s who he is."

You swallowed hard, fingers twitching around the cloth. "It’s fine."

Campbell’s lips curved into something between a smirk and a sneer. "Ah, you wouldn’t be saying that if you knew what he was truly capable of.”

You hesitated again, just long enough for him to notice. That was what he wanted.

“What’s he capable of?” you asked quietly… weakly. 

Campbell tilted his head to the side daringly. “Things that would give you nightmares, my dear.” His voice softened, becoming almost coaxing. "I’ve seen the way he treats you. Like you’re nothing. Have you ever thought about getting back at a man like Tommy Shelby?"

Your breath hitched.

Slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet his, blinking once, as if the thought had never crossed your mind, until now.

The hook was set.

Now, all you had to do was let him reel you in.

…

The air inside Watery Lane was thick with cigarette smoke and whiskey, the dim glow of the fireplace casting long shadows against the walls. You sat at the worn dining table, the weight of the evening still pressing into your chest as you recounted every detail of your conversation with Campbell.

Arthur let out a sharp bark of laughter, shaking his head as he tipped back a drink. "Christ, love– you're a proper fuckin' spy now, ain't ya?"

You scoffed, shaking your head, but your fingers tightened slightly around your glass uncomfortably. 

Polly, sitting across from you, wasn’t laughing. She had that sharp, knowing look in her eyes, the kind that made you feel like she was peeling back your skin, searching for cracks.

"I don’t like it," she said, voice clipped as she tapped ash from her cigarette. "This game you’re playing with Campbell– it’s dangerous."

Polly flicked her gaze to Tommy. "And you? You’re just lettin’ her walk right into it, aren’t you?"

Tommy, who had been silent up until now, just listening, finally spoke, his voice low, certain, final.

"It’s the best plan we have. This is the only shot we have at getting ahead of Campbell for once." 

A hush settled over the room at that.

You exhaled slowly, your shoulders relaxing just slightly, but not completely. You were still trying to feel like you belonged here.

Arthur, still grinning, smacked his hand against the table. "Reckon we should give you a razor cap next, eh?"

John snorted. "Make her a proper Blinder, aye?"

"Enough!” Polly’s sharp voice cut through the room, instantly silencing John and Arthur’s amusement. She leaned forward, stubbing out her cigarette with more force than necessary, her gaze locking onto Tommy.

"I mean it, Tommy. I don’t like this. It’s too dangerous."

Tommy exhaled slowly, fingers pressing against his temple before he finally met her eyes. "We’ve been over this, Pol."

"And I’ll keep sayin’ it till you listen." Her voice was firm, unwavering. "You’re putting her in the middle of something she has no business being in. You think Campbell won’t see through this? You think he won’t turn it back on her the second he gets the chance?"

Your chest tightened at her words, but you stayed quiet, watching the exchange between them.

Tommy’s jaw tightened. "We’ll handle it, Pol." His voice was calm, but there was an edge beneath it– the kind that meant the conversation was over.

Polly’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t push further. Instead, she turned her gaze to you, her expression softer but still carrying that same weight. "Be careful."

You swallowed, nodding once. "I will."

Tommy leaned back slightly in his chair, letting the tension settle before he sighed, rubbing his temple. "It’s late."

You took that as your cue, standing up. "Right. I should go."

But before you could even push your chair back properly, Tommy stood up as well. He didn’t say anything, just reached for his coat, shrugging it on like it was second nature.

Arthur smirked into his glass. Polly just watched Tommy closely, her fingers laced together on the table. John raised a brow. 

Tommy ignored them all, tilting his head slightly toward the door.

You hesitated before falling into step beside him.

As you moved toward the door, Arthur leaned back in his chair, smirking over the rim of his glass.

"G’night, Doc," he called, amusement laced through his voice. "Try not to get into any more trouble, eh?"

You huffed a quiet breath, shaking your head as you pulled the door open.

Arthur’s chuckle followed you out, but you barely heard it as you stepped into the cold night air.

Tommy was already a step ahead, hands tucked into his coat pockets, his stride easy, unhurried but deliberate.

For a moment, you considered saying something, asking why he kept doing this, why he kept walking with you even when he didn’t have to.

The night air was crisp and quiet, the distant hum of the city settling into the darkness around you. Tommy walked beside you, his steps measured, thoughtful, but there was a weight in the way he carried himself tonight– like something was pressing against his ribs, like he had something to say.

Finally, after a long silence, he exhaled sharply, his breath curling in the cold. "You know this plan is dangerous."

You didn’t hesitate. "I know."

Tommy’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept walking, his gaze fixed ahead. "Campbell isn’t a fool. If he figures out what we’re doing–" He stopped himself, shaking his head slightly.

You swallowed, your fingers flexing inside your coat pockets. "I know."

Tommy scoffed lightly, shaking his head as he took out a cigarette. "He won’t just throw you in a cell and be done with it. He’ll make an example of you."

Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers pressing gently against his shoulder, stopping him mid-step.

Tommy’s entire body stilled. The shift in him was immediate, his breathing slowed, his posture tensed, like he wasn’t used to being touched like that. Like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

"I know," you repeated.

Tommy shook his head, muttering something under his breath before looking at you again, his voice lower, more measured. "You don’t know what he’s capable of–”

“You’ve told me." 

Slowly, he looked at you, the sharpness in his expression cracking– just for a second.

You swallowed hard, voice steady. "I know the risks, Tommy."

His lips parted slightly, but you didn’t give him a chance to interrupt.

"And I still want to help."

Tommy’s throat bobbed with a slow swallow, his gaze flickering between your eyes.

You let your hand drop, taking a breath. "I care about your family. About what happens to them. And I care about what happens to you."

His shoulders tensed beneath his coat, his expression shifting.

You weren’t sure what he was thinking, what calculations were running through that sharp mind of his. But after a long moment, he exhaled slowly, turning away slightly, running a hand over his face.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter.

"I wish you didn’t."

[girlyyypawp]

Tear drops on the dining table

"You think a house runs by itself!? Everyday I work DAY AND NIGHT like a dog to make this house into a home and this is how you repay me??" You said, voice filled with agony and frustration.

" I..." He holds eye contact with you for a moment before turning away.

" Are you fucking serious? How much effort does it take to ACTUALLY be present huh?" You point your words at him with sharp, arrow-like precision as you hit him on the chest with the rolled up newspaper.

" All I ask..." You pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing "All I ask is for me to not be the only one present in this marriage."

" I'm... trying sweetheart, but you know work keeps me busy." This time he looks at you, really looks at you—hoping that somewhere deep down you might still forgive him.

A smile breaks into your face as you break character and tell him-

"Man I was hoping you would be more of a bitch."

" Well I'm trying but it's hard to be a bitch to my girlfriend when we're playing pretend husband-and-wife darling" He says while chuckling.

"....This wasn't intense enough, do you think we should go for a scene where you cheat on me-"

Before you can finish your sentence, your words register in his mind as a scrowl develops on his face.

" I would rather not even think about it, let alone enact it with you"

"Man...you're boring as hell, - 1000 aura."

" My apologies for being a good boyfriend and not arguing with you much."

A moment of silence passes by as you tell him your next move, which to your dismay, doesn't gain his approval.

" what if you were my step-"

" fuck no"

" I could be stuck in the washing machine-"

" Sweetie we have a vertical one"

Am image of you being very unsexily stuck in your tall ass washing machine comes to your mind as you cringe at thought. You rack your brain as you try to come up scenarios to act out.

"... What if you were my teacher?"

" Weren't we supposed to be fake arguing rather than enacting porno scenarios?"

" C'mon be a little sex positive dude" you tell him as you latch onto his arm.

" Ain't nothing positive about your sex life" He snorts.

Now this is not how you imagined it to go when you suggested a teacher role play, here on the dining table with your books laid out, which you had done so to make it more immersive, being oblivious to what effect it might've had later on.

"How the fuck did you pass high school?"

You grip your pen a little tighter as your boyfriend, now chides you for doing your work wrong. At first you were happy he was getting into the whole teacher thing but you hadn't assumed that he would ACTUALLY start teaching you.

Vietnam War flashbacks come back to you as he ask you

" When was the Harappan civilization found?"

" I- uhh"

"Let me give you a hint." A sigh of relief leaves your lips, thankful at his mercy-

" WHEN WAS THE HARAPPAN CIVILISATION FOUND?"

He yells the same question louder as if doing that will make you remember the date.

As you sit there, with your notebook filled with tears of not remembering the fucking date of an age old civilization, you make a mental note to yourself to never ask him to role play with you ever again.

LMAO I rlly dk wtf I just wrote but I hope yall like it😭❤️💀

Reader wanted to fake argue with the boys since they're such green flags that arguments are rare 😭💀

[plethorawrites]

I'm back to my once in a blue moon Roy post. And again, I can't stop thinking about how any person he dated HAS to be approved by Lian.

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

It doesn't matter how much Roy Harper likes you or how perfect he thinks you are, if Lian doesn't like one of his partners, he'll break up with that person the next day.

He obviously waits a while to see if he even likes you enough to introduce you to her, but once he makes that decision, it's nerve wracking. He wants her to approve. He really does. And you want her too as well. He drones on about her constantly. Basically the entire first date was him relating every question you asked him back to her somehow.

Favorite place to go? The zoo, because Lian loves it. Favorite food? Grilled cheese, because he makes it for her so much he got hooked. Favorite color? It changes when hers does because everything she owns switches shades too. But he's partial to the color closest to her eyes.

And you're just as excited and nervous to meet her, knowing exactly how important she is to him. Lian is a good judge of character, she can know instantly if someone is wrong for her dad and she doesn't want them around him.

With you, it's the same as all the others. She's standoffish, curious but hesitant, asking you questions that only seem to have bad answers the way all kids somehow manage to do. And you're panicking, admittedly, not only at the questions, but at seeing Roy slowly deflate when he realizes how judgmental his daughter is.

At some point he excuses himself from the room for a moment, either to take a call, or try to take a breath because he's suddenly thinking about ending the relationship. But the second he walks away and both you and Lian can see the disappointment in posture, you both soften. Mostly her.

"...He works a lot," she told you, almost like a deterrent.

You nodded softly. "I know."

There was a pause, her princess crown falling a little bit. "Things with mom didn't end well," she mumbled.

You fixed her crown. "I know that, too." Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear you scooted closer to her on the couch. "I don't want to replace your mom, Lian. I just...want to love your dad."

She looked up at you. No one he brought home ever said the L word before. Not unless it was in some patronizing way as they talked about her while squishing her cheeks.

Her lips quirked, fighting a pout. "He's always busy," she repeated with emphasis. "I don't even see him for a week or two." She knew why, of course, and never blamed him. It still hurt.

Things suddenly clicked for you, realizing Lian was less worried about you, and more worried about you stealing her time with him.

"Well...maybe when he's gone, you and I could go somewhere? Do you like the aquarium?" You suggested hesitantly, watching her furrow her brows in skepticism as she nodded. "And maybe when he's back, we could all do something too, like a movie..." She seemed to relax a little, still pouting. "I'm not trying to steal him from you. You're the most important thing in his life, you know? You'll always come first."

...

A while later, Roy had all but prepared his typical break up speech, planning to tell you he liked you a lot but needed to take care of Lian and her needs first before focusing on himself. It hurt more this time, though, rehearsing it, than it usually did.

He walked back into the living room, freezing when he saw you braiding Lian's hair, a blanket pulled over her lap as she clicked the buttons on a remote.

"Oh, there you are," you said, glancing up. "We were going to watch 'Brave', do you want to join us?"

He blinked a few times, glancing at his daughter to ensure she wasn't just pretending. Then again, she never went along with anything she didn't actually want to do.

Roy nodded slightly, sitting next to Lian, squishing her in-between you two as she found the movie on the TV.

"You should make us popcorn," she practically demanded, starting the movie and glancing back at you as you finished her hair. "He makes really good popcorn."

You nodded curiously, giving her a small smile. "You ever tried it with M&M's in it before?"

Her eyes widened, head snapping towards her dad as if already asking for it. "O-okay, yeah, I'll check if we have any," he muttered, standing up, sparing a glance over his shoulder as he saw you pulling a blanket over Lian's lap while she passed her favorite princess crown to you.

It seemed she did approve, this time.

[everyones-doormat]

STAY

PART THREE kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: sae-byeok never let people in—until she met you, ji-yeong’s roommate. You don’t ask for more, you just stay. And for someone who’s always been alone, that changes everything.

warnings: none

Sae-byeok started lingering.

Not just showing up more often, but actually staying.

At first, it was just for meals. A late dinner, a quick snack, sitting with you and Ji-yeong in the living room pretending she wasn’t interested in whatever ridiculous drama was playing on TV.

But then, she started staying longer.

You’d wake up in the morning and find her still there, curled up on the couch, using her hoodie like a makeshift blanket.

Ji-yeong had stopped questioning it after the third time, just tossing her an extra pillow and muttering, “You should just move in at this point.”

Sae-byeok never responded to that. But she never denied it either.

Tonight, you came home to find her alone in the apartment.

Ji-yeong was out—probably with some bad influence, doing something illegal. But Sae-byeok? She was sitting at the table, toying with the cuffs of her jacket.

You frowned, setting your bag down. “Where’s your shadow?”

She glanced up. “Out.”

No explanation. No details. Just out.

You huffed, moving to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. “And you? Just decided to break in again?”

She held up Ji-yeong’s spare key between her fingers. “Not breaking in if I have this.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, you leaned against the counter, taking a sip from your drink. “You eat yet?”

She shook her head.

You sighed. “Alright, sit tight.”

She watched as you grabbed ingredients from the fridge—what little you had left—and started putting together something edible. She never asked for food, but you knew she’d accept it if you gave it to her.

“You know,” you mused, stirring the pot, “most people would just text before showing up at someone’s place.”

She didn’t respond right away. Then—

“Would you want me to?”

The question made you pause. You turned, finding her watching you with that same unreadable expression.

It wasn’t teasing.

She was genuinely asking.

You tilted your head. “No. Not really.”

Something in her gaze shifted—softened, just a little.

You smirked, turning back to the stove. “Just means you’re stuck with me feeding you whenever you do show up.”

A pause. Then—

“…Guess I can live with that.”

You didn’t turn, but you swore you could hear the tiny smile in her voice.

-

Later that night, after you’d eaten and were both sitting on the couch, Sae-byeok spoke again.

“You never ask questions.”

You glanced at her. “What?”

She was leaning back, her arms crossed, gaze fixed on the ceiling. “You don’t ask about me. Where I go. What I do.”

You hummed, resting your head against the cushion. “Would you answer if I did?”

She didn’t respond.

“Exactly.” You sighed, shifting to get more comfortable. “You don’t owe people explanations just because you exist. You wanna tell me something, you will.”

For a while, she didn’t say anything.

Then, in a voice so quiet you almost missed it—

“I like that about you.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t say anything.

Just let the words settle.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was getting harder to ignore.

The way she gravitated toward you. The way she never outright said she liked being around you, but never left either.

The way she sometimes stayed so late that she ended up falling asleep on your couch—small, quiet, curled into herself like she was trying to take up as little space as possible.

Ji-yeong had noticed too.

“You’re so obvious,” she muttered one night while Sae-byeok was in the bathroom.

You raised a brow. “Obvious about what?”

Ji-yeong gave you a knowing look. “You like her.”

You scoffed, leaning back into the couch. “No shit. I let her eat my food, don’t I?”

Ji-yeong rolled her eyes. “Not like that, dumbass.”

You didn’t respond.

Maybe she wasn’t wrong.

-

The next time you saw Sae-byeok, she was waiting outside your building.

It was past midnight. Cold. The kind of night where most people would be inside, cuddled up in bed.

But she wasn’t.

She was leaning against the wall, hood pulled up, hands shoved into her pockets. She looked up when you approached, eyes scanning you—like she was making sure you were okay.

“You’ve been out here long?” you asked, unlocking the door.

She shrugged. “Not really.”

Which meant probably.

You sighed, pushing the door open. “Come on.”

She followed without hesitation.

Inside, you tossed her a blanket as you kicked off your shoes. She caught it easily, settling into her usual spot on the couch.

You didn’t ask why she was here. You never did.

But this time, she spoke first.

“You don’t care?”

You glanced at her. “About what?”

She shifted slightly. “That I never tell you things.”

You studied her for a moment. She wasn’t looking at you, but you could see the tension in her shoulders, like she was bracing herself for something.

For what, you weren’t sure.

“You tell me what matters,” you said simply.

That got her attention.

She finally met your gaze, something unreadable in her expression. “And if I never do?”

You shrugged. “Then you don’t.”

She blinked, like she hadn’t expected that answer.

You sighed, stretching your legs out. “Look, Sae, I don’t need your life story. I don’t need you to explain yourself. I just—”

You hesitated, then exhaled. “I just like having you around. That’s it.”

She stared at you for a moment.

Then, without a word, she pulled the blanket tighter around herself and leaned back against the couch.

She didn’t say anything else that night.

But when you woke up the next morning, she was still there.

-

<3

[sirhamburrger]

rin itoshi has never been good with words.

on the field, his actions do the talking - precise, ruthless, confident. but being good in spoken language doesn't have anything to do with the way his tongue seems to freeze whenever he even goes anywhere near that three-word phrase.

so late at night, bathed in the glow of his laptop, he pours his innermost thoughts into unsent emails, knowing he’ll never have the courage to send them. when he's stressed, when he's exhausted, or when he could really use some of your love. (at least, what he imagines your love might feel like.)

so he writes.

"you make the world feel less suffocating." delete.

"i think about you a lot, a lot more than i should." delete.

"i love you."

backspace, backspace, backspace. delete.

and tonight is just like any other night, except the events of the day are weighing a little too much on him. a too-narrow victory on the field, a bruise to his ego.

he's written a veritable essay. he could scroll at full speed for five whole seconds and he still might not reach the end. his finger hovers over the backspace key, as it always does. but exhaustion weighs on him, his mind clouded from training.

send?

his hand slips in slow motion -

click.

sent.

no. oh, no, no. no.

rin stares. his breath stills. a sickening wave of panic crashes over him as reality sets in. his heart pounds against his ribs his hands fly to the keyboard. maybe he can delete it? no, it's only going to be deleted on his end. unsend it? no, no, it's way past the fifteen second window, and the option is long gone. maybe -

a notification pops up.

you have one (1) unread email.

how long has it been? three minutes, max?

he shuts his laptop. stands up. walks out of his room like running from it will erase what just happened. but like the universe's cruel version of a joke, his phone buzzes in his pocket almost immediately.

he ignores it. then again. and again until he's had enough. he groans, utterly mortified, dragging a hand over his face before finally pulling it out.

[y/n] : did you send that email to the wrong person? [y/n] : it was kinda sweet ngl [y/n] : rin? You : you read it? You : like, all of it? [y/n] : well, i'd say i'm a pretty fast reader.

his grip tightens around the phone. his ears burn.

You : it was just practice You : sorry to bother you so late at night [y/n] : it was no bother lol [y/n] : if only guys sent me emails like that [y/n] : i'd be swooning immediately

he feels a sense of relief, suddenly. or is it more like a crushing weight on his chest? he can't really tell. after saying a quick goodbye to you, he flings his phone on his bed, exhaling heavily. better you don't know about his feelings than he gets his heart broken before he's ready for it.

idly, his hands reach for the mouse, and he clicks on the unread email.

his heart stops.

it's from you. a reply to his - his vulnerability.

FROM: thetrueynln@gmail.com TO: itoshirin0909@gmail.com SUBJECT: RE: [no subject] dear rin, i wasn't sure how to start this, so i figured i'd just... start. first of all, i read every word. i'm not entirely sure i was supposed to, but i did. and i need you to know that i’m glad you sent it - even if you didn’t mean to. you say you’re bad with words, but rin, the way you wrote? it didn’t feel like that at all. it felt real. raw. like i was looking straight into your heart, even though i know you’d probably rather die than let me do that. so, should i say something back? or hould i pretend i never saw it? you didn’t exactly give me instructions, and knowing you, you’re probably freaking out right now, debating whether to block my email or delete your entire existence. but before you do that - before you try to run from this - I need to tell you something. the way you see me? the way you write about me? rin, i don’t think you realize that i see you the same way. i love you too, rin. more than i could ever express. for your perfections, but also for your perfect imperfections. i think my hands are cramping up now, so i'll end off with this: if you ever decide to write for me - or to me, whichever - don't delete it. because i'd like to hear what you have to say about me. i might have some words of my own to share, too. with love, y/n

his phone pings again, a singular text from you lighting his lock screen up.

[y/n] : see you in school tomorrow! get some rest, okay? [y/n] : <3

rin's heart stumbles in his chest, then soars.

maybe - just maybe - this unfortunate mistake wasn’t really a mistake at all.

rin itoshi writes love letters to you in his email drafts but deletes them knowing he’ll never have the courage to send them to you

[a99jazzybean]

Why do we Keep Playing These Games?

Chapter 5: Queen of Hearts

Ch.1/ Ch2./ Ch.3/ Ch.4

synop: College TA au

Jayce Talis... He's your unrequited sworn enemy. You are the object of his obsessive affections. After discovering your disdain toward him, He decides to win your heart... Through playing games. Winner gets to make the loser do whatever they want. You'll take him up on the bet, but what will happen if he wins?

words: 5.7K

includes: jaycexfem!reader, angst, fluff, kissing, yearning, betting, massages

a/n: I think I have a better idea of where I'm wanting this story to go. Hope you enjoy a bit of angst.

As your eyes glazed over while reading a textbook, you heard groaning and shuffling by your side. Glancing in your peripheral, you saw Viktor shift uncomfortably in his seat. Occasionally he would huff out in frustration or pain, wincing at the feeling. You softly shut the book and turned to him.

“Are you doing alright?” You asked, concern laced in your eyes

The man beside you paused, taking in the worry on your face. While he wasn’t one to enjoy pity, it was clear you were genuinely concerned for him. He sighed, as he attempted to move his leg into a comfortable position. As he did, another sting of pain shot through the limb, causing the man to hiss and grind his teeth. Normally he would be able to fight through the discomfort, but today was quite the unpleasant flare up. Feeling like a pinched nerve somewhere, though he couldn’t figure out where. 

“It’s nothing. Just a bad flare up.” He huffed as he pressed his fingers into his thigh, attempting to find the source of the sharp pains. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Again, no pity laced in your voice. Though he wasn’t surprised. You never treated him as someone to be pitied. 

“Not really, I left my pain meds back at the apartment. And Jayce is really the only one that can help massage it out.” That had you raising your brow. Viktor chuckled lightly at your questioning gaze.

“He’s a very sweet man.” He returned his leg to the most comfortable position he could with a groan. “You would know if you ever listened to me about his positive traits.” He gave you a pointed look. 

You huffed in annoyance. Viktor and Mel had both attempted to make you see reason when it came to Jayce. The two always pointing out his acts of kindness. Though you knew of his kind ways, it was something that added to your annoyance. Since you were unable to truly rationalize your disdain for a man that was totally selfless in his actions. True altruism seemed like an impossible feat, yet Jayce managed to be the one person to prove you wrong. 

“During the summer between our sophomore and junior years he took massage therapy courses at a community college.” Viktor said.

“Really? Why?” That was a silly question. As Viktor continued to shuffle uncomfortably, you understood why.

“Because he wanted to help me.” Viktor stated, a soft smile on his face. “He knows I’m not one to ask for assistance, but he’s still always there when I do need help. He just wanted to add more to his arsenal of aid.” 

“You’re not one to particularly enjoy people going out of their way for you…” You had witnessed Viktor’s sneers of irritation when others had attempted to “assist” him when it came to his disability. It was a bit of a surprise how willing Viktor was to accept Jayce’s help.

“He didn’t do it because he felt sorry for me. He did it because he cares. Again, something you would know if you actually listen to me about Jayce.” Viktor sighed, as if it was exhausting to continually reiterate this point to you. “That man is breaking his back, bending over for other’s needs. Including yours.” His amber eyes gave you a pointed look. 

Avoiding his gaze, you grumbled to yourself. Sure, Jayce probably was a sweet person. Scratch that, you knew he was, but there was some damned prideful part of you that didn’t want to acknowledge it. In hopes that if you pretended you weren’t privy to that information, you could feel better being a jerk to the man. It didn’t work, especially now when you knew how he felt about you. Now there was a bitter taste of bile in your throat as you thought of the man’s unending kindness that you continually rejected. 

Viktor’s eyes continued to watch you. Studying your response to his statements. It was cute, how frustrated you got about this situation with Jayce. Viktor didn’t really know the full reason why you despised his partner. This whole “enemy” thing was definitely a facade hiding your true feelings. If you truly hated Jayce in the ways that you claimed, then you should have hated Viktor as well. Instead, you had befriended the man. A curious thing, the way your mind justified your feelings. 

“Well, that’s very kind of him.” You said, conceding to the truth. Yes, Jayce was in fact a caring person. 

“It is.” Viktor left it at that. 

You returned to your textbook, unsure of the energy in the air. Somewhat tense, yet comfortable as you allowed yourself to accept new truths. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next Monday had arrived. The first day of the school week where you helped aid Heimerdinger with Jayce and when you and Jayce would play your next game.

Fall was slowly taking over the summer heat. Cool breezes were more common than the stale humidity. Leaves had just begun turning yellow and orange. A pleasant change as you no longer sweated on your way to the physics building every morning. 

As you enjoyed the cooler air on your walk, someone sidled up to you. Though you didn’t turn to him, from the size of their frame you could tell it was Jayce. Sandalwood scented cologne wafted in your direction as the man moved as close to you as he could. With his closer proximity, you turned to look up at the man by your side.

“Good morning!” He said cheerily.

“Morning.” You replied. “You’re too happy to be up for an 8 am.” 

“That’s why I got you this!” He held out a coffee cup. The scent, catching your attention.

You reached for it, breathing in the smell of the fresh brew with a sigh and content smile. The action made Jayce’s heart flutter. He enjoyed the way you enjoyed simple pleasures. 

“Thanks. How much do I owe you?” You went to reach around for your wallet.

The man waved you off.

“It’s all good. It’s on me.” He gave you a bright smile. 

“You sure?” 

It wasn’t unusual for Jayce to go on coffee runs for your TA group. You would pitch in funds, but it seemed like more often than not, Jayce would find a way to cover the tab. While it was a nice gesture, you didn’t particularly enjoy feeling as though you owed someone something.

“You’ve bought like the last five coffees I’ve had.” You gave him a questioning look.

“Have I now?” Jayce feigned ignorance. “I never counted. Just wanted to do something nice for a friend.”

“Right.” You continue to hold his gaze with your own suspicious one. Turning away first to sip at your coffee. Of course, it’s perfect. Just the way you liked. You glanced at the man again, a glint of anticipation in his eyes. 

“Thank you, Jayce. It’s pretty good.” You swear you hear him release a sigh at you saying his name. Gaze softening as he continued to look at you. 

A pang of hurt struck your chest. You avoided his gaze, instead focusing on the coffee cup in your hands. Why? Why? Why was he always so nice? When you were acting like an ass to him. Your fucked up attempts to push away someone who just wanted a connection with you were coming to bite you in the ass. It was beginning to hurt.

Viktor and Mel were fine as your friends, but why not Jayce? 

In frustration, you gripped your coffee cup a bit hard. The lid popping off, spraying a splash of steaming hot coffee onto your hand. 

“Shit.” You hissed. 

Thankfully the only victim of your mishap was your hand. Jayce had managed to catch the lid before it hit the ground. He reached for your coffee cup to put it back on, then placed it in your hand once more.

“Is your hand okay?” He asked, a look of concern furrowing his brows.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” You let out a sigh. The pinging tightness remained in your chest. “Sorry, I’m such a clutz.” 

The worried look remained on his face. He reached for the hand that you had slightly burned. Hesitantly, you allowed him to look over the backside. His fingers lightly brushing over your skin, making your face hot. There wasn’t any damage, just a small red splotch. 

“Might sting a bit, but nothing too bad.” He lightly patted your hand and let it go. Again, another pang hit your chest. 

“Yeah.” You croaked. A waver in your voice making Jayce pause.

“Are you okay?” There it is, a moment, one that you could allow yourself to embrace for once. To maybe let him see some vulnerable part of you. One outside of the games you play. 

“I-I’m fine. Thanks for asking though.” Alas, you weren’t ready. Not yet, not when there was that damned prideful part of you that didn’t want to concede. 

At the very least you could thank him for caring. Perhaps it wasn’t enough, but it was what you were willing to give. 

“Okay. Well, I’m here if you want to talk.” He gave you a soft smile. One that added to the ever growing pain in your chest.

Instead of answering, you nodded. A small smile of your own on your lips. 

During Heimerdinger’s first period you felt Jayce’s eyes on you the entire time. He was trying to get a read on you. It was obvious that you were lying about how you were feeling. Both of you knew you were a shit liar. He wondered why you still tried to lie though. Despite your obviousness, you did your best to conceal parts of yourself. Parts that he desperately wished to learn more about, to understand.  

The heat of his hazel eyes never left you. Even when students came to him with questions, his eyes kept flitting to you. To see if any part of you would crack and reveal an opening. But none showed up. You managed to keep up your mask for the period. 

It was obvious that you were desperate to get out of the class. Twitching hands and shuffling feet giving away your need to run. You did your best to avoid catching Jayce’s gaze. He didn’t hide his intense staring, concern still deeply etched onto his face. You pretended not to notice, but it wasn’t working very well. He knew it, you knew it. Despite just getting to know you recently, the man could read you exceptionally well. 

It was fine though. Again, Jayce was patient. So far his patience seemed to assist him. Ever so slowly you had allowed him in. While he wished for more, he was willing to wait. Of course he was, it was you after all.

The rest of the day trudged on. Before you were about to head to your office hours, Heimerdinger asked for your assistance. 

“Would you be able to come to the library with me? I have to pick up some textbooks for the next two weeks of class.”

Ah, that was right. There was a specific text that the professor only used a section of and didn’t feel it necessary to have students purchase it. In order to ensure students actually received it, he took it upon himself to reserve the library’s copies.

“Sure Professor, I do have my office hours in about thirty minutes though.” You warned.

“Oh, we’ll surely be done sooner than that. Besides, I believe Mr. Talis shares the same time slot, so a little tardiness shouldn’t be an issue.” He gave his classic twinkling giggles that had you smiling. The Professor was certainly quite the character. 

You followed the shorter man to the library. He waved and greeted students and faculty on the way there, red cheeks pulled into a bright smile. Trailing behind him, you nodded at the passing people with a polite smile of your own. 

Heimerdinger had managed to reserve around 200 books, and you happened to be his packing mule apparently. While he did aid you in stacking the books on a cart, you did most of the bulk. As you wished to move the job along faster, you grabbed as large of stacks as you could. One particularly large stack would be your undoing. The weight sending a shock up your spine as you lifted with your back instead of your legs. Thankfully you managed to grit your teeth through the pain to avoid dropping the texts. Through the sharp pains in your back, you continued to pile books onto a cart. Sighing with relief, you plopped the final stack down. Attempting to stretch out your back to no avail. Groaning, you grabbed the cart and began pushing it to the physics building. Heimerdinger cheerily following behind you. 

Each step toward the building sent more pain up your back. It was going to be a long night. You groaned at the realization that you weren’t going to be able to lie down for at least three hours. Just the thought of you sitting hunched over a table helping a student sent more pain up your spine. 

“Is everything alright?” The professor’s high voice broke you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah. Just pulled my back.” You grunted, pushing the heavy cart forward.

The man tutted.

“You know what they say, ‘always lift with your legs!’”

“Thanks, Professor…” 

After dropping off the textbooks at Heimerdinger’s office, you made your way to your own office. Dreading the next few hours as your back continued to grow more and more sore. The heavy weight of your backpack doing nothing to relieve the pain. 

Groaning, you trudged into the office. Jayce looking away from the student he was working with as you walked inside. The look on your face indicating the discomfort you were feeling. The man found himself furrowing his brow in worry once again. 

“You’re late.” He tried to lighten the mood with a bright tone.

“I was helping Heimerdinger.” You sighed as you sat down, attempting to warp your back into a comfortable position.

“A likely story.” He teased. 

“Save the interrogation, Talis. You have a student that needs assistance.” You sighed again. 

Jayce grew more concerned. Normally you would gladly partake in banter with the man. Something must truly be wrong if you were shrugging off the chance to be snarky. The man decided to table that discussion till he was done aiding the student with him. 

To the his dismay, he didn’t get an opportunity to speak with you till after your office hours. A steady stream of students had kept you both busy for the entire time. Jayce had kept his eye on you though, his concern growing as he saw your demeanor grow more frustrated. 

The pain in your back had you a bit grumpy and short tempered with students. Many times you found yourself holding back a snarky comment when they would mess up a problem on a practice test. You had to continually remind yourself to be kind despite how irritated you were feeling. 

When the final student left the room, you let out a sigh of relief. The action making Jayce raise his brow. You never behaved this way with students before, he was slightly concerned. Still, he had something to look forward to. 

The man locked the office door, catching your attention. Right, it’s game night. This time it was Jayce’s turn to pick the game. Based on your mood, he decided to go easy on you. From his backpack he pulled out a deck of cards. With deft hands, he began to shuffle them. Your eyes watched as he expertly maneuvered the cards. Enjoying the way he showed off small tricks with his fingers. 

“Enjoying the show?” He asked, a teasing glint in his eye.

“Mhmm.” You decided to be honest. It really was impressive. “What are we playing?” 

“Old Maid.” The light smile that was on your face dropped into a look of annoyance.

“Old Maid? Seriously?” It felt almost insulting, his game of choice. 

“You look like you needed an easier game today.” He said pointedly.

He was right. Anything that involved true strategy would have you floundering. The pain in your back seemed to be the only thing you could pay attention to. Fine, you’d accept the children’s game. 

“The game doesn’t last that long though.” You attempted to stretch out your back with a groan. It did nothing to help.

Jayce paused his shuffling.

“Are you doing alright? You’ve been off all night.”

“I’m fine.” You lied. 

“Please stop.” He sighed.

“Stop what?” You wondered where this was going. 

“Stop lying to me. I’ve told you before, you’re a shit liar.”

“My back just hurts. That’s all.” You said. Though it was clear it was bothering you more than you let on. 

“We’ll do best two out of three. How’s that sound?” The man changed the subject for you. It was obvious you didn’t want him to pry.

“That sounds great.” You said, attempting to be cheery. 

Jayce picked out three queens from the deck and set them to the side, then he began to deal out the cards. You picked up your hand, meticulously grabbing the few pairs you had managed to get. Jayce laid down his pairs in front of him in neat stacks. He had four and you had three. You didn’t have the queen though, so you at least had that going for you. Hopefully Jayce wouldn’t keep the poker face he was currently wearing. 

“You go first.” He said, motioning you forward.

Hovering over the cards your hand slightly shook. You couldn’t lose again. As your fingers trailed over his spread out hand, you watched Jayce’s eyes. Aha! You caught the slight shift as you reached the second to last card on the right. Instead, you pulled one from the middle. Breathing a sigh of relief as you grabbed a seven of clubs. Perfect, you had the seven of spades. With a cocky smile, you set the pair down in front of you.

Jayce chuckled at your competitiveness. Even with a game of chance, you still wanted to be seen as a fierce opponent. 

The two of you continued to pick at each other’s hands. Jayce hadn’t realized you had caught his tell and was growing more anxious as the majority of your cards were paired up in front of you. He held seven in his hands. The old maid he kept shuffling around, hoping you would slip up and grab it. Alas, to his disappointment you had managed to avoid the card. When it was over he was left with the queen of hearts. It felt as if the card was taunting him. No matter, there were still two games left. 

This time you shuffled the deck. While you weren’t as dexterous as Jayce, you still caught him staring at your hands. A small smirk danced on your lips as he continued to watch you. A comfortable silence had rested in the room. It was nice, you found yourself liking these game nights a bit more than you expected. Sure, the last two times you’ve lost, but playing with Jayce was kind of fun. 

“You ready to get creamed, Talis?” You asked smugly. 

“You wish.” Jayce said, trying to hide his nervousness. 

If you won, he was toast. He had no idea what you had planned for your wager. It could be something nice, maybe. But he wasn’t holding his breath on that. 

You dealt out the cards and repeated the process of picking out pairs. Despite your thorough shuffling, you found you had managed to gather seven pairs. 

“Oh no, absolutely not.” Jayce practically growled. “There’s no way you didn’t cheat.” 

“Jayce, you’ve been sitting in front of me this entire time. Staring at my hands, might I add. When would I have cheated?” It was almost cute, his anxious demeanor about the prospects of you winning. 

“Besides, you know I have the old maid. Doesn’t really matter how many pairs I get if you don’t grab her.” 

Grumbling, he conceded. You motioned for him to pick a card, doing your best to keep your face emotionless. Though you were a terrible liar when speaking, you had managed to secure a decent poker face. Something that very much bothered the man in front of you. He reached for the middle card and sucked in a breath. It was a three of hearts. He sighed with relief as he paired it with his diamond card. 

“You seem a bit tense.” You chuckled.

“You’ve already got a win in, I can’t have that happen again.”

“And here I thought I was the competitive one.” His clear frustration had you wondering about his wager. “I wonder what’s on the table for you to be so persistent to win.” 

Hazel eyes grew dark as they peered over the cards at you. The look was enough to have you shivering and clenching your thighs. Surely he was planning something that would wreck you. You didn’t know if that frightened or excited you. 

It was clear to you that your last game night had impacted you. Something new stirred in your belly when it came to Jayce. Something you didn’t know if you wanted to explore or not. If he won you had a feeling you wouldn’t have much of a choice. So, you obviously had to win.

You were so close. Just two more pairs and getting rid of the old maid. 

As Jayce reached toward your hand, you held your breath. His fingers twitching above his card of choice with hesitancy. This was it, the moment of his downfall. You didn’t let your face betray you. The man plucked the card out.

“Shit.” Again, the queen was taunting him. 

His eyes narrowed at you as a smug smile was on your face again. He shuffled the maid into his remaining few cards. There was still a chance he could win. 

Reaching for Jayce’s hand, you bit your lip. Doing your best to read his face without him noticing. And there it was again, the flitting of his eyes as you reached for the old maid. Instead you snatched a different card, making the man groan in frustration. 

You placed your final pair in front of you, feeling somewhat accomplished. Finally, you had beaten Jayce Talis. The man stared at the queen in his hand in shock.

How? How did you beat him at a children’s game?

“You have a shit poker face.” You teased. 

“What?” He swore he kept himself perfectly composed.

“You’ve got an easy tell.”

“And what exactly is it?” He pried.

“Nuh uh, I gotta make sure I keep the advantage. Especially if we play more card games.” You smiled. 

While he was upset at the loss, he couldn’t help but smile back. He loved when you genuinely smiled. The way your eyes crinkled and shined with enthusiasm. The way your lips pulled at your cheeks, looking oh-so kissable.

“So, what were you betting on?” He asked. 

It was then you realized you hadn’t actually thought on it. You were sure he was going to win again, so you didn’t put much thought into what you wanted. Then, it hit you. The pain in your back returning as your distraction had ended. You recalled the recent conversation you had with Viktor. 

“Viktor says you took massage therapy courses, is that true?” You ask, eyes looking at his hands. 

“Um, yeah. They had a specific course to aid in relieving nerve pain.” He raised a questioning brow at you.

“I know what I would like.” Another strike of pain made you groan. “You have to give me a thorough massage.”

That had both of Jayce’s brows raised. He thought you were going to make him take your workload from Heimerdinger's classes, instead you were offering him the chance to touch you again. If anything, this was an opportunity that Jayce wouldn’t pass up. 

“You sure that’s what you want?” His voice buzzed with excitement. 

“Don’t be so happy about it.” You groaned in pain again. “I just pulled my back really bad and need some relief.” 

“I will gladly provide that relief.” Jayce’s eyes were practically sparkling with anticipation. Then they grew dark. “And I can provide other forms of relief too.”

You scoffed at the man’s forwardness.

“Don’t push it, Talis.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

He raised his hands in a surrender, then placed them on the table to push himself up. You took that as your cue to pack up your bag. Before you could grab it, Jayce had snatched it up from the floor.

“I don’t want you hurting your back even more.” He shoved the pack over one of his shoulders and carried his own bag in his hand. The muscles in his arms flexed. The action distracting you for a moment. Sometimes you forget how impressive the man’s physique was. 

Jayce smirked, catching you staring. A red blush dusted your cheeks. God, he wanted to kiss you again. 

“C’mon, let’s get you home.” Jayce nudged his head toward the door. 

The walk back to your apartment was completed in silence. Crickets chirped and cicadas whirred in a symphony of nighttime. It was quite a pleasant trek, minus the occasional pang in your back. Jayce noticed how stiff you were walking. 

“Do you want me to give you that massage tonight?” His brow furrowed with concern. A look you were growing used to seeing on his face. 

“Nah. I’ll take it tomorrow evening though.” You yawned. It was getting pretty late, and you didn’t think you could stay up much longer. 

“There’s nothing I can do?” Jayce pushed lightly. He really hoped you’d let him help at least a little bit. 

Sighing, you conceded. It would probably be a good thing for him to at least decrease the ache somewhat. You weren’t sure how much you would be able to take tomorrow. 

“You can at least start, I suppose. Get the knot out, or whatever.” 

Jayce nodded enthusiastically, making you let out an amused huff. The man was never subtle. 

When you reached your apartment you paused. Jayce had never been in your home before. You didn’t know how you felt about that. While you weren’t messy, the place could do with some TLC. Though why did you care about what he thought? 

“Everything okay?” Jayce waited patiently for you to unlock the door.

“Uh, yeah.” You shook off your embarrassment, and opened the door. 

The first thing the man noticed was the smell of your apartment. It was so… very you. You had decorated the space almost perfectly to the way he had imagined it. A mishmash of cozy items and eclectic art on the walls. Potted plants near windows and the sliding door to the balcony. Fairy lights strung on the ceiling leaving a warm glow in your living room. 

Jayce toed his shoes off and placed both the bags he was holding down. Sighing with content as he looked around your little home. It felt wrong, allowing him into such an intimate space. 

From between his legs, Jayce felt soft fur pass through. He watched as a small cat sauntered over to you. Mewling for you to pick it up. Despite the pain in your back, you obliged in your furry friend’s request. Grabbing her and giving her a kiss on the head, her eyes slowly blinking in content. The sweet action making Jayce’s heart melt. 

“I didn’t know you had a cat.” He said.

“Really?” She’s my phone screen.” You lifted your phone to show him a picture of your cat playing with a bell toy. 

Jayce walked over, hand lightly stretched out for her to sniff. The cat in your arms tentatively sniffed, then nuzzled her head into his palm. He took the opportunity to scritch behind her ears, eliciting a gentle purr.

“What’s her name?” He had just noticed the close proximity to you. A blush creeped to his cheeks as he realized that you weren’t making any attempts to distance yourself from him.

“Sedona. It’s a town in Arizona. Has the most gorgeous sunsets. My mom took me there when I was young. She always said that she thought the name would be fitting for a pet.” You smiled down at the sleepy cat. “So I decided for my first pet, that’s what I would choose for a name.”

“It fits her.” He said. 

“Yeah, I think it does.” You looked up at him. His soft gaze on you making your heart stutter. 

This wasn’t right. Allowing him in so easily. Yet… you didn’t want to stop. 

Glancing at the microwave clock you realized you needed to get ready for bed soon. You let Sedona down with a groan, reminding Jayce of the reason why he had been invited in in the first place. 

“Right, massage.” He said. 

“Since we’ll make it quick, does the couch work?” You asked. 

“Uh yeah. I do have a massage table back at my place. I can bring it when we do the full thing.” 

“You just have one of those on hand?” You chuckled.

“It was required for the course, and folds easily enough so I kept it.” He shrugged his shoulders then motioned for you to lay down on the couch. 

You laid down on your stomach, wincing as the pain in your back flared. 

“Is it alright if I move up your shirt?” He asked, voice gentle. 

“Yeah. Do what you need to.” You said. 

Although you couldn’t see him, he nodded. 

He pushed up the back of your shirt, then placed his palms on your back. They were pleasantly warm. 

“Where exactly is the pain?” He asked. 

You did your best to blindly point to where it was. Jayce followed the direction of your index finger, tracing along your back. The movement making you shiver. 

“Right here?” He asked, adding a little pressure.

“Yes.” You groaned.

He added more pressure and hummed. 

“Yeah you’re real tight.” He said, unfazed at the double meaning. 

You were glad your face was pressed into the cushion, or he would see it bloom bright red. 

Jayce methodically worked out the deep knot in your back. Careful not to hurt you with too much pressure. It felt really good. He clearly took his studies seriously, and you were enjoying it greatly. A bit too much it seemed, when you let out a moan as he loosened up a tight area. 

Your hand clamped over your mouth. From above you Jayce chuckled, reaching for your hand. Moving it away from your lips. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. You should hear what Viktor sounds like.” Though you couldn’t see him, you could hear the smile in his voice. 

Jayce continued to work out the knots he could in the short amount of time that he had. When he was done, your back was already feeling better. While it wasn’t back to 100%, it was at least something. 

Before ushering him out of your apartment you stopped him with a hand on his chest. Feeling his heartbeat speed up at your touch. Biting your lip, you tried to find something to say before he left. 

“Um, thank you.” Was all you could manage.

He smiled softly. Your eyes kept shifting, you didn’t know if you could look at him. Afraid of what you would feel if you did. A warm hand lightly grabbed your chin, moving your face up to look at him. There was that look of concern on his face again. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow.” His voice was soft, as if he was afraid a louder tone would make you scurry away. It probably would, as you were filled with a crushing fear. You didn’t know why, but you felt wrong, this felt wrong. So why weren’t you stopping? 

“Is that okay?” He tried to keep your attention on him. 

The frazzled look in your eyes was making him more concerned. It looked as if you were beginning to spiral. 

Sighing out a long breath you closed your eyes. Allowing yourself to collapse onto his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you. Keeping you grounded. 

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, though you didn’t know what you were apologizing for.

Jayce tightened his embrace around you, laying his head on top of yours. He didn’t know what to make of this. While part of him was ecstatic that you were showing him more trust, a different part of him continued to grow more worried for you. For now he could provide you some comfort.

A soft hand caressed up and down your back, reminding you to breathe. As you gulped down deep breaths, you began to slowly pull away from him. Avoiding his gaze, you lightly pushed off of his chest. The lack of contact making Jayce’s heart ache, but he didn’t want to distress you further. 

“S-sorry.” You mumbled again.

“What for?” He asked, voice still soft. 

“I don’t know. For something, everything.” You couldn’t stand to look at him. “I don’t know.” 

Jayce reached for your face again. Coaxing you to look at him. Your heart jolting as you locked your eyes with his. The smile on his face making you soften. 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He leaned towards you, making you stiffen. 

Soft lips placed a chaste kiss on your cheek, leaving your face hot. But you realized that wasn’t what you wanted. 

In a moment of impulsiveness, you gripped the collar of his shirt and pulled him back toward you. Pressing your lips against his. Making his eyes widen as yours fluttered shut. He allowed himself to give in, returning the kiss. Your lips molding easily with his. Tongue swiping at his bottom lip. A light gasp from the man opening his mouth enough for you to trail your tongue inside. A groan rumbled in his chest. 

As soon as it had started, you made it stop. Quickly pulling away from the man with a gasp. Why did you do that?

Jayce didn’t know what to make of it, so he just allowed himself to enjoy your impulsivity. 

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” You said.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” This time he leaned forward, lightly kissing you. And you let him, savoring the way his lips felt on yours. 

After Jayce left you stood at the entrance of your apartment in shock, fingers tracing over your lips. Replaying his kiss over and over. 

[imsogonesposts]

My Hero

|| ao3 || Finnick Odair masterlist || an: this kinda hurt to write ngl 😭 || requests are open !! ||

summary: Finnick Odair was known for playing hero. That’s why he was always saving you, both metaphorically, and physically. (5 times Finnick saves you, and one time you can’t save him) (wc: 4080)

warning: nightmares, canon typical violence, mention of blood, no happy ending, i think thats all

1.

You tried to calm your rapidly beating heart and your too-loud breaths as you woke up. You had had a nightmare, reliving the events of your Hunger Games from years ago. Except, somehow the memories were worse. Distorted to make what truly happened on those never-ending days into something more violent, more gory. 

You tried to ease yourself, not wanting to wake up the boy next to you, but the thing about Finnick Odair, was that he always seemed to know when something was wrong with you- even when he was asleep, it seemed. 

He turned in bed as you covered your mouth, attempting to stifle your heavy breathing. He wrapped an arm around your waist, lightly rubbing your side as he quietly, asked “you okay?” 

You stayed silent, trying to pretend you were asleep, but even half asleep, Finnick could tell that something was wrong. 

He softly whispered your name before repeating his earlier question, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you quietly replied as he sat up, using his arm to support his weight as he looked over you. 

He softly repeated your name again as you turned over to look at him. You imagined your eyes were stained red from crying, your hair was probably a mess too, but Finnick didn’t seem to mind. 

“Hey, what happened?” He asked a finger lightly tracing your arm. It was a comforting gesture, and right now, it was one of the only things helping to ground you. 

You’re not back in the arena, you’re home, in bed, with Finnick. The dream wasn’t real, this is.

“Bad dream,” you whisper as he frowns. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks as you shrug. 

“I was back in the arena,” you quietly reply. “But everything seemed worse. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Finnick instantly shakes his head no. “Don’t be sorry, I don’t mind. You know that,” he whispers, moving his hand from your arm to lightly cup your face, thumb lightly rubbing your cheek. “I never mind, I just like taking care of you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He asks as you shrug. 

“Hold me?” You quietly ask as he nods. 

Finnick lowered himself to the bed as he pulled you atop him, your head on his chest, right over his beating heart. It was a calming sound, it always was, and his hand tracing up and down your back only added to the comfort he was trying to bring you. 

“I’d hold you forever if you wanted me to,” Finnick whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he continues to trace your spine with one hand, the other moving to play with your hair. 

2.

The TV was playing in the living room, but neither you nor Finnick were paying any attention to it. You were reading as Finnick laid in your lap, asleep, as Caesar Flickerman showed the citizens of the Capitol Katniss Everdeen’s wedding dress options. You prayed that when you and Finnick eventually got married, your wedding wouldn’t be nearly as publicized as the “star-crossed lovers of District 12’s” were. It would be nice to have something for yourselves for once. 

“That’s right, this year will be the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games and that means it’s time for our third Quarter Quell,” Caesar suddenly announced, pulling your attention away from your book, and onto the screen. Neither you nor Finnick were old enough to have witnessed a Quarter Quell before, but you had heard stories. Namely, what notto do- the stories of Haymitch Abernathy’s games and the consequences of his win had been told frequently as a cautionary tale, warning to not do anything too extreme to win your games, so long as you wanted your loved ones to live to see another day.

You watched as President Snow made his way across the stage, a boy dressed in white closely following behind him.

You knew that a Quarter Quell most likely meant more work for you and Finnick as victors, you knew that you wouldn’thave liked whatever cruel Quarter Quell idea the original game makers had come up with seventy-five years ago, but nothing could have prepared you for the words that left the president’s mouth. 

“On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.”

You felt your blood turn cold as you looked at the sleeping figure atop you. Chances were, you and Finnick would be going into the arena again. Chances were, you would be going in together. And chances were, they wouldn’t let two tributes out of the arena again. 

“Finnick,” you whisper, lightly shaking his shoulder to wake him up. He smiled as he opened his eyes to be met with your face. You hated how quickly his smile dropped when he saw the look of concern etched across your own face. 

“Hey, hey, are you okay? What’s wrong?” He asks, sitting up as he turns his body to face yours, his hands almost automatically reaching for yours. 

“They announced what would be happening for the next Quarter Quell,” you whispered, avoiding his gaze as you focused on the chipping paint on the wall beside the couch. Finnick had kept putting off repainting it, and now, who knew if you would ever get to see it fixed. 

He squeezed your hands as he noticed your refusal to meet his gaze. “That bad?” He jokes, panic instantly filling his body as he watched your eyes begin to water. “Hey, hey, don’t cry,” he whispered, gently taking your face in between in hands as he began wiping the tears of your face with his thumbs. “We’ll get through whatever it is, I promise.”

He was so sweet you could cry even more. You really didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but you had to tell him at some point. 

“Finnick,” you start.

“Yeah?”

“For the Quarter Quell,” you sniffle, “they’re gonna put two past victors back into the game.” You pause as you watch him think over your words. “They could send us back in,” you whisper, watching as his eyes narrow and shoulders gotense.

“What?” He questions as you nod. 

“I don’t want to go back,” you whisper. “I don’t want you to go back.”

He didn’t want that either. He didn’t want either of you to ever have to step through that arena again, he wouldn’t wish such a cruel fate to his worst enemy.

“I’ll figure something out,” Finnick whispers, pulling you into a hug as you cry into his shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” he whispers, rubbing your back and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “We’ll be okay.”

He wasn’t sure how true his words were, but as of right now, his main priority was calming you down and holding you, letting you cry it all out into his embrace. 

3.

The first thing you hear after sleeping in the arms of the man you love, is Katniss’s voice yelling “Run!” You could feel Finnick instantly tensing up, sitting up as if ready to fight an enemy, only to be met with a wall of fog. 

While it was obvious that neither you nor Finnick knew why you had to run from something as harmless as fog, Finnick still began pulling you up, pushing you ahead of him as the two of you ran away from the fog with Katniss and Peeta in tow. 

“What is it?” You heard Peeta ask. 

“Some kind of fog. Poisonous gas,” Katniss replied as you all continued running. 

You could feel the fog slowly catching up to you all as you began to feel a burning sensation in your body. It was on your arms, your legs, too many places for comfort. All the while, Finnick was yelling at the three of you to “keep moving.”

You had wanted to listen to him, you truly did, but slowly it began to feel as if the burning was doing much worse than causing some pain. It was targeting your nerves, making it close to impossible to run without stumbling and twitching.You had wanted to stop for a break, but Finnick had pushed you forward as he ran back towards Katniss and Peeta to help them, as Peeta could barely move due to his earlier injuries. 

You could barely feel anything but pain and worry as you fell down a hill, a few feet away from a body of water. Pain from the fog, and worry that Finnick might not have made it out of the fog, that he might have fallen there, and that you may have lost him forever. 

You wanted to thank every star in the night sky when you, weakly, lifted your head up to see Finnick, Katniss, and Peeta roll down the hill. All injured, but all alive. 

“Sweetheart?” Finnick, weakly, called out, lifting his head as much as he could to look for you. 

“I’m okay,” you replied. 

He let out a slight nod before laying his head down again, mumbling out a small “good.” 

You kept your gaze on him, watching as Katniss and Peeta carried him to the water. You would have been worried by the sounds of anguish coming from him if it weren’t obvious that the water helped with the poisonous gas, otherwise Katniss and Peeta wouldn’t be able to move as much as they were. 

“Hi, baby,” you hear after a few minutes, looking up to be met with Finnick’s warm smile. “I’m gonna take you to water and help fix you up, alright?” 

You weakly nod as he picks you up, carrying you to the water as he gently placed you in the water, waiting as you returned to your normal look. 

“Better?” He asked as you nodded. 

“Are you okay?” You asked, eyes going over his body looking for any signs of injury. “You definitely got the worst of it.”

Finnick shrugged with a smile as he tilted your chin to look up at him. “I’m okay because you’re okay,” he whispered before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

4.

You had been talking with Johanna when you had noticed Katniss running through the forest like a woman gone mad yelling one word, one name, over and over again. “Prim.” 

You ran after her, finally catching up to her as you watched her shoot a bird down, her shoulders still slightly tense. 

“Katniss?” You whisper, so as to not startle the girl. “Are you alright?” 

She nods at you, taking the arrow out of the bird as she wipes it clean. “I’m okay,” she replied. “I thought I heard my sister, but-“ 

A loud scream cuts her off. A scream that sounds like a voice you know all too well. 

“Finnick?” You yell, running into the forest, Katniss quickly following behind you. Finnick had been talking with Wirus, Beetee, and Peeta when you left. Had he gone chasing after you and ended up in danger? Did another past victor find him? One that wasn’t in the alliance?  Was he okay?

The screaming seemed to grow louder as you kept yelling out for him, and yet you couldn’t find him. It wasn’t until a bird fell on your feet that the screaming stopped. 

Oh, it wasn’t really him. And thank god for that. 

“It’s a jabber jay,” Katniss explains, “Finnick’s probably still okay, the Capitol’s just playing a trick on us. It’s not real.”

You pick up the bird with a shaky hand as you nod. Her reasoning made sense, it all made sense, you just had to calm yourself. 

Finnick was okay. He was okay, and you would both escape the arena together. Safe and sound. 

You nodded once more as another scream filled the forest. A deeper voice calling out for Katniss’s help. 

“Katniss, we have to go,” you tell her, pulling on her arm as you try to drag her away from the screaming jabber jays that began following the two of you. And with that, Finnick screaming for your help again. 

It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real. 

As you half drag, Katniss away from the birds, you finally catch sight of Johanna, Finnick, and Peeta waving at the two of you. Thank god he was okay. Finnick was shaking his head “no,” making an X symbol with his hands, Peeta and Johanna yelling at the two of you, though no words leaving their mouths. Strange, yes, but right now you just wanted to be held in Finnick’s arms as he assured you he was okay.

Katniss and you ran closer to them until you both suddenly ran into a wall, so transparent you couldn’t even see it. You both landed on the floor, looking up to see Finnick’s hand placed on the clear wall, mouthing the question “Are you okay?” You nodded “yes” even though your body ached from the impact of the wall. Johanna began hitting the wall with her ax, but it was obvious her attempts did little to damage it. You were stuck. At least until the hour was up. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, suddenly remembering the girl you were supposed to protect. Katniss nodded as she sat up, moving to closer face Peeta. 

You give Finnick a knowing smile, silently telling him, “see? I told you they were real.”

He only rolled his eyes in response, the hint of a smile tugging on his face before he winked at you. You swore you could get lost in his eyes.

That was, until, the jabber jays found Katniss and you. Slowly, one by one, they began sitting on nearby branches and rocks, before opening their mouths, screams pilling out. Some yelling for Katniss, some for you. You heard the voices of all that you loved: Finnick, your parents, your friends back home. 

You watch Katniss attempt to shoot the birds down, but you knew it was pointless. The game makers probably had anendless amount of jabber jays at their disposal. You wished you could help, but every second the voices seemed to onlygrow louder and louder. You covered your ears, closing your eyes, in hopes of blocking them out, yet that barely did anything. 

It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real.

Finally, the hour passed, and Finnick kneeled beside you, rubbing your back to let you know he was there. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he whispers as you uncover your ears, finally opening your eyes to be met with his comforting green ones. 

“You’re okay?” You quietly ask. 

He nods. “I’m okay,” he tells you, hand still rubbing your back. “Are you okay?” He knows you’re probably not okay, he can see it in the way breathing, in the fear in your eyes, in the slight shaking of your body, but he wants to take things slow, he wants to help calm you down. 

You shrug at his question. “There were jabber jays,” you told him. “They sounded like you screaming, I thought something happened to you.”

He can feel part of his heartbreak at that as he slowly pulls you into a hug. “Oh, baby,” he whispers, kissing the top ofyour head. “I’m okay, I’m right here,” he begins rubbing your back again as you move your face into the crook of his neck. 

“I heard my parent too, Finnick,” you mumble against his neck. “And my friends back home…it was horrible.”

Finnick wished nothing more than the ability to take the pain away from you. To have been in your place instead so you wouldn’t have to go through such a thing. Or better yet, kill President Snow for ever helping with these games and foreverything he has ever put the two of you through. 

“They’re safe back home, sweetheart,” he whispers, kissing the side of your head. “They always interview the family, I promise you your family is safe at home right now, okay?” 

You nod against him, letting his warm embrace calm you. 

5.

“Good morning,” you say, lightly shaking Finnick away from his nap. 

He only groans in response, mumbling something that sounded like “let me sleep.” 

You brush hair off his forehead with a laugh before whispering, “I’m sorry, but I need your help with something.” 

This time, he peeks an eye open, finally meeting your gaze. “Is everything alright?” He asks through a yawn, one of his hands moving to rub up and down your arm. 

You nod in response before replying, “there’s a spider in the corner of our room, can you get it out?”

Finnick can’t help but laugh, sitting up and taking in the small room you and Finnick have grown to call your own in District 13. It wasn’t much, you only had a nightstand, a bed barely big enough to fit the both of you, and a small shaky desk, but it was enough. You were safe with him, you were both out of the arena, away from President Snow, you were both married now, and that was more than enough for him. 

“You mean to tell me you won your Hunger Games, and you can’t manage to kill a spider?” Finnick asks with a laugh, wrapping an arm around your shoulder before pulling you in to press a kiss to the side of your head. 

“It’s not funny,” you grumble, leaning into his touch as he laughs again. 

“You’re right,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to the side of your head before getting off the bed, “it’s hilarious.”

“It’s near the desk,” you inform him as he nods, ripping a blank page out of the notebook that sat on the desk, picking up a discarded cup, placing the cup over the spider, and sliding the paper under the cup. 

“Can you get the door, sweetheart?” He requests as you get up with a nod. 

He kisses your cheek as you hold the door open for him. “It feels like you’re always saving me,” you joke as he laughs with a nod. 

“I happen to like saving you,” he easily replies. “I can be your knight in shining armor,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and walking out of the room to discard of the spider. “And it makes me feel useful,” he calls out before you close the door with a laugh.

+1

It was a strange thing. One moment, you were holding hands with Finnick, him making jokes to ease your ever-growing nerves, you laughing along as if his attempts were working. Finnick wasn’t stupid, though, he knew his attempts to calm you weren’t working, but no matter how much he tried to convince you, you insisted that you had a strange feeling in your stomach. A bad feeling that something wasn’t going to work out right today.  

One moment, he was swinging your joint hands back and forth, the next the two of you and the rebels were running from the mutts chasing you all. The mutts who stood tall like humans, chasing you with their almost reptilian-like tails, their hollow dark eyes, and their razor-sharp teeth. You could still feel Finnick’s hand in yours as you ran to the main sewer.

If you were a more selfish person, a smarter person, you would have found a way to stay back at District 13, and with that, find a way to convince Finnick to stay with you. Say something like you wanted to have as close to a honeymoon with him as you could back in District 13. Back in your almost too-small-to-move room, back in your slightly worn-out bed. Back home, safe. Without having to see so many people who were part of the rebel group die such a cruel death. Nothing about this was fair. Not one bit. 

You would close your eyes, will all of this away to be just another bad dream as you wake up safe in Finnick’s warm arms again, but every time you close your eyes, you were reminded of those who lost their lives due to the rebellion. The rebellion that you wished more than anything would just end already. Boggs, Jackson, Leeg One.

You feel something, someone, push you towards a ladder as the smell of blood, and roses, and death fills your nostrils. 

“Climb,” you hear Finnick instruct as you nod your head. 

“Finnick-“

“Climb,” he repeated, his tone more stern. “I’ll be right behind you, I promise,” he says, pressing a quick, haste kiss to your lips as he pushes you towards the ladder again. “I’ll be there soon, baby,” he tells you, turning around to fight off more of the mutts with the trident Beetee had recently crafted for him. You barely register your hands pulling you up the ladder, nor the bottom of your shoes pressing against the ladder as you make your way up. 

One second, Finnick’s lips are on yours, the next, you're atop a platform, watching the rest of the rebels climb their way up, save for one. 

“Where’s Finnick?” You ask before you hear the sound of screaming. The sound of his screaming.

It was like you were in the area again, back with the jabber jays taunting you and Katniss with the screams of those that you loved. Only this time, it wasn’t a distorted audio. This time it was real.

“Finnick!” You yell, making your way back to the ladder. You had to help him, you had to save him. He’s done the same for you countless times. You had to help him, you had to-.

A pair of strong arms pull you back, holding you tight so you wouldn't be able to escape. You thrashed against the person, Finnick’s screams of pain only further motivating your escape as the person, Gale, tells you, “No, he’s not coming back up.”

You didn’t want to believe him. Right now, your heart was overpowering any rational thought as you tried to escape from Gale’s hold. You had to try, you couldn’t let Finnick die. Not like this. Not with so much pain. Not in the water. It may not be the ocean water that he loved so much, but it was water nonetheless. He can’t die, he couldn’t, but especially not in the place he had always considered to be like a second home to him. In the place that would help calm all his racing thoughts, the water which he had practically grown up in. It wasn’t fair, nothing about any of this was. It wasn’t fair that either of you had to enter the Hunger Games at such a young age, that either of you had to go through those horrid games again years later. It wasn’t fair what the Capitol put Finnick through, it wasn’t fair that now he was so far out of reach.

You watch Katniss take out the Holo from her belt, whispering the word “nightlock” three times before releasing it to the sewer. To the mutts. To Finnick. 

“Katniss no,” you choke out through a sob, but the explosion had already happened before you could finish your plea. That’s when Gale finally releases you, letting you sink to your knees, as your sobs overtake you. 

“We can’t stay here,” Katniss suddenly says. You feel Cressida come to your side, rubbing a hand up and down your back to soothe you. The same way Finnick used to. 

That’s when it hits you: you’d never get to feel his touch again. Never wake up in his arms, hear his voice, have him next to you as you both drift off to sleep, you'd never get to tell him you loved him again. You didn’t even get to say it againbefore climbing up the ladder. 

You barely register Katniss and Peeta’s argument as Cressida helps you up, leading you to god knows where. You were only half there mentally, though you doubted anyone could truly blame you. 

Finnick was gone. The weird feeling you had in your stomach was right, and in the most cruelest way possible too. 

“I didn’t even get to say bye,” you croak out through a sob as Cressida continues rubbing her hand up and down your back. Though, it would never bring the same comfort that Finnick’s actions used to. 

[shipper4everships]

BuckTommy Fluffebruary: Day 27

~Affectionate bantering/teasing~

It had been their thing from the very beginning.

- Double Americano, please. Tommy places his order with a polite smile. The barista scribbles his name on the cup and heads to the register to ring it up when suddenly— - Wait! Don’t charge it! Evan bursts into the conversation and turns to Tommy. - Are you seriously going to keep pretending to be all tough again and drink your coffee black?

Tommy shifts his embarrassed gaze from the barista back to Evan. - Hey, but I am tough! - Tommy protests, almost offended. - Sure, sure,-  Evan giggles. - That’s why you sneak up to the counter afterward and grab sugar packets when you think I’m not looking.

Tommy raises his eyebrows, looking as insulted as possible. - I don’t— Okay, maybe once. - He finally gives in. - Of course, that’s what I thought. - Evan pats his shoulder affectionately, then turns back to the barista. - Be a dear, scratch the Americano and make him a Vanilla Latte. Double syrup.

Tommy rolls his eyes and grumbles under his breath the entire time until he gets his order. He takes a sip - and drinks it like it’s the most divine beverage in the world.

…

They never missed a chance with each other.

- Actually, you have to admit it, - Tommy declares in a tone reserved for undeniable truths. - I’m the superior cuddler. 

- What? - Evan practically jumps at the statement. - Pfft, please! Look at me! He gestures dramatically, pointing at himself with both index fingers. - I’m basically a human-weighted blanket.

Tommy raises an eyebrow. - You? You fidget too much, Evan! - he argues gently. - Hey, I fidget from an excess of love and excitement!

Tommy just snorts at the excuse. - You know, that’s the weirdest excuse I’ve ever heard, and yet… Fine, you win. Tommy throws his hands up in mock defeat as Evan cheers victoriously.

…

They love every second of it.

- Rise and shine, love. Tommy gently touches Evan’s shoulder to wake him. He’s just come back from the kitchen, where breakfast for two is already waiting.

- Mmm. No. A disgruntled mumble emerges from the pillow. - It’s too early.

- Babe, it’s 11 a.m. Tommy smiles softly, looking at his sleepy boyfriend and trying again, brushing his fingers through Evan’s tousled hair. But Evan just turns away, rolling over to the other side.

- Exactly, - he mumbles. - Basically dawn.

Tommy snorts at the claim. - You’re ridiculous, - he teases, but there’s nothing but fondness in his voice.

- And yet you still love me. Evan finally turns back to him with a sleepy, soft smile, and Tommy leans in to kiss it - confirming his words.

…

But not everyone can handle it.

- Ugh, you know what? I’m happy for you guys, but sometimes, you’re just unbearable. - Eddie sighs in frustration. - You act like an old married couple, you know that? It’s ridiculous.

- Eddie, don’t exaggerate. - Evan grins smugly. - You’re just jealous! - he teases, sticking his tongue out.

Tommy just smiles to himself.

Married couple?

Well. Considering that little velvet box hidden deep in his closet, waiting for its moment…

Maybe Eddie isn’t so wrong after all. @bucktommyfluffebruary ❤️❤️❤️

[sturniololuvz]

i love the "more important" story im not the one who asked for it but can u do a chris version and his 2 year old daughter was always sitting in the living room Playing with her Barbies and whatever she can find until she randomly started crying one day from how lonely and bored she got and he spent the whole day spoiling her??

okayyy!

“Daddy’s Got You”

Chris Sturniolo x daughter

Chris had always known being a single dad wouldn’t be easy. But no one ever told him about the little things—the way guilt would creep up on him when he was busy, or how his daughter’s tiny, happy giggles could make any bad day disappear.

His two-year-old daughter was everything to him. And though she was usually content playing by herself while he worked or filmed, he started noticing a pattern—she was always sitting alone in the living room, surrounded by her Barbies, stuffed animals, and whatever random toys she could find.

Chris would glance over between takes, watching as she babbled to herself, occasionally looking around like she was waiting for someone to join her. It tugged at his heart, but she never complained.

Until one day, she did.

Chris had been editing a video at the kitchen counter, music playing softly in the background, when a small sniffle caught his attention. He turned around, confused, and his heart broke at what he saw.

She was sitting in the middle of the living room, her little hands gripping a Barbie, but tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her bottom lip trembled as she let out a quiet sob.

Chris was at her side in seconds.

“Hey, hey, baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, scooping her into his arms.

She buried her face in his hoodie, her tiny fingers gripping onto him like he might disappear. “I-I don’ wanna play ‘lone no more,” she hiccupped.

Chris felt his chest tighten. He had been so busy lately—editing, filming, working—that he hadn’t realized just how lonely she’d been feeling.

Guilt hit him like a truck.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “I’m so sorry. Daddy’s got you now, okay? No more being alone.”

She sniffled against his chest. “Pwomise?”

Chris pulled back just enough to wipe her tiny tears away. “I promise, my love. We’re having a Daddy-Daughter Day starting right now.”

And he meant it.

For the rest of the day, Chris spoiled her completely.

They had a tea party on the living room floor, where he wore a pink tiara and pretended to be a princess. Then, he let her do his makeup with her little playset, even though she kept poking him in the eye with her tiny brush.

When she got hungry, he made her dinosaur-shaped pancakes for lunch because why not? And after eating, he took her to the store and let her pick out any toy she wanted—she, of course, chose another Barbie, plus a stuffed unicorn that was almost as big as she was.

By the time they got home, she was beyond happy.

Chris carried her to the couch, letting her snuggle into his chest as they watched her favorite movie. He ran his fingers through her soft curls, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“You know Daddy loves you more than anything, right?” he murmured.

She nodded sleepily, gripping his hoodie. “Love you, Daddy…”

Chris smiled, holding her close. “I love you more, baby.”

And from that day on, he made damn sure she never felt lonely again.

[jhoneybees]

Dancin' in the moonlight

Hey!!! Just a little blurb I whipped up tonight lolll(it's 11:30pm) Hope you lovelies are doing well and hope this cheers up those who are a bit under the weather like this has for me :) Love youssss❤️

Inspired by:

Characters: Late 60s!Elvis X reader

Warnings/triggers: Nothing I'd sayyyy

Tags: @hooked-on-elvis @atleastpleasetelephone @theelvisprincess @i-r-i-n-a-a @thelonelyheart @polksaladava @iloveelvisss

_____________________________________________

Slamming his book shut, heavily. Elvis rips his reading glasses off of his face with a tired sigh.

“Elvis?” You call with slight concern, watching as he shuffles around under the covers next to you. Pulling at the sheets to bring them up to his chest like a grumpy child would. “What's wrong?”

He glances your way for a split second, huffing out through his nose as his shoulders slump. He groans. “I can't focus.”

Your eyebrows knit together. “Can't focus?”

“It’s been a damn long week and all I wanna do is rest but- Damnit! My mind ain't resting!”

Hearing the frustration in his voice, you hum quietly in a soft, comforting response.

Letting him breathe for a little bit after his outburst.

“Did you have some butch?” Your voice, gentle and quiet as you ask if he had a warm glass of milk since that sometimes helps him to wind down.

Elvis scoffs. “I've tried everythin’.”

After that, you start to think.

He definitely did have a long week. Back and forth from home to the recording studio and flying from one place to another. You do feel bad about how exhausted he gets. He never seems to catch a break.

“What about we go dance in the moonlight?” You suggest, playfully out of nowhere making Elvis turn his head to look at you with one eyebrow raised.

“D’ya know what time it is, girl?”

You shrug, smiling cheekily. “Come on, it'll be fun.” Flipping the silky blankets off your legs as you slip out of bed. Your feet pad along the carpet to the record player in the far corner of the dimly lit room.

Elvis shakes his head, amused. Seeming to forget what he was upset about. “Whadya doin', honey?”

“Getting ready to dance in the moonlight.” You reply, simply. Flicking through the little collection of records Elvis likes to keep. Pulling one out to observe.

“Dancin’ in the- honey, what are you on about?”

You place the record on the player and carefully lift the needle onto it. Gentle cracks fill the still silence of the bedroom and you begin to make your way to Elvis' side of the bed before a nice, cheerful beat starts to play.

We get it almost every night~

“Darlin' what are you doin'?” Elvis asks with a small chuckle, confused why you're tugging both of his hands.

And when that ol’ moon gets so big and bright, it's a supernatural delight~

“Come on! Let's dance in the moonlight!’ You encourage with a giggle, full of playfulness.

He clicks his tongue with a shake of the head and soon Elvis gives in and groans as he gets up.

Everybody’s dancing in the moonlight~

Resting your hands around his neck, you start to sway your hips and tilt your head from side of side to the music. Laughing at how Elvis is starting to laugh at your antics.

Elvis forgets how you can always cheer him up. No matter what the problem is.

Dancing in the moonlight! Everybody's feeling warm and right — it's such a fine and natural sight

Everybody's dancing in the moonlight~

“Yer nuts, ya know that? Absolutely nuts!” He says, giving you a pretend knowing look. Holding the small of your back with one hand and the other squeezes your small one as you two swing around the floor, gracefully.

You turn your nose up, proudly. “And you love me.” Shooting him smiley eyes filled with love and sparkles.

His heart melts.

“I do…I sure do.”

We like our fun and we never fight — you can't dance and stay uptight, it's such a fine and natural sight

Everybody's dancing in the moonlight~