#side note before i used to only be able to cry when watching a movie/ tv show but then my sibling made fun of me Several Times for it

[crunchycrystals]

feeling SUPER bad rn but i cant cry for some reason

[forwhomthewordsflow]

Sleeping Conditions

steve harrington x fem!reader

18+ ONLY MDNI!!!

warnings: established relationship, some allusions to smut, reader has breasts, fluff, fluff, more fluff, some anxiety

author's note: i felt the need to validate my own specific sleeping conditions with this little blurb that ended up being longer than expected...we're not high maintenance! we just wanna sleep!

word count: 2.6k

The weatherman had jovially warned the city of Hawkins this morning about a bit of rain that was supposed to roll in later on in the evening.  A slight drizzle, just enough to water the grass but nothing to worry about.

Except, the weatherman seemed to have underestimated today’s weather, because you were currently sat down on the couch at your boyfriend’s house watching the torrential downpour that was occurring outside his living room window. 

Normally, this would be cause for celebration.  An impromptu sleepover at Steve’s house! Yay!

But you were not celebrating, no.  You were sort of freaking out, actually.

You’re able to fully recognize how strange it is for someone to have such specific sleeping conditions in the way that you do, but what are you supposed to do?  It’s the only way you can really get a good night’s rest!

In your perfect world, you’re in your room where the thermostat is set at 69.  There is not one light source in sight, you even make sure to throw a t-shirt over the tiny light on your alarm clock.  Alone in your completely pitch black room, you’re able to sleep comfortably in just a pair of comfy panties.  You love the way your two blankets, duvet, and jersey sheet set feel on your bare skin. 

 In order for you to be able to fall asleep the pillow under your head has to be just right, you have to have a slightly flatter pillow parallel to your body, your smallest blanket has to be tucked between your legs in a specific way, and the blankets have to be adjusted based on how hot or cold you feel on that particular night.  

When plans are made for you to sleep somewhere else, you always make sure to bring your two pillows and your smallest blanket, but you still can’t seem to sleep that well unless you’re really tired. 

It’s really a lot.

So naturally, with all of this in mind, you’re freaking out about having to stay the night at Steve’s house tonight. 

You love him, you really do, but your relationship with him is still relatively new.  You’ve only spent the night together a handful of times, and those nights of sleep for you were always aided by the effects of one too many drinks at the Hideout with friends or a passionate night of lovemaking. 

You’ve never had a normal night in with Steve before.

And he is so excited about it.

Steve’s been craving any ounce of domesticity with you that he can get.  Sure, he’s made you romantic dinners before and you’ve come over for movie nights a bunch of times, but it’s never been just a normal sleepover.

He can’t wait to watch you go through your night routine, to cuddle up with you in bed as you both fall asleep, and then to wake up to you tomorrow morning.

He was all too excited to alert you to the fact that you wouldn’t be able to drive home safely tonight, and that you’d most likely have to stay the night with him.

-

You’re thankful Steve hasn’t noticed how anxious you’re becoming as the night goes on, because he’s so sweet that you could cry.

He watched you through the mirror as you brushed your teeth together side by side.  

The huge grin on his face made it hard for him to get to his back teeth, but he’d gladly sacrifice one night of dental hygiene for you any time. 

He sat on the toilet and gazed adoringly at you as you washed your face and brushed your hair.  

Steve was happy that the travel sized toiletries he’d purchased for you a couple weeks ago were being put to use.

You took a longer time than you normally would in an attempt to delay the inevitable, but Steve was on an opposite mission.

When you were finished in the bathroom, Steve ran into his bedroom to fix up his bed and lay out a t-shirt for you to sleep in. 

You stood there nervously, holding the t-shirt in your slightly shaking hands.  You know you won’t be able to sleep in this, but would Steve be comfortable with you sleeping practically naked?  He might take it as a sign that you want to have sex or something, but you’re feeling much too anxious to get into that headspace right now.  

Steve notices you standing at the foot of his bed, staring down at his faded Hawkins Athletics t-shirt in your hands.

“Everything okay, baby?”

Your head shoots up to meet his eyes, quickly trying your best to wipe the upset look off of your face.  You nod your head and smile over at Steve.  

Steve shoots you a warm grin, he’s not convinced that you’re totally fine, but he’s assuming you’re just a little nervous about the storm or staying the night with him.  

You retreat back into his bathroom to change out of your clothes and into his t-shirt, which Steve finds a little odd.  He’s seen every square inch of your body, and you’ve certainly changed in front of him before, but he shrugs and goes back to fluffing his pillows for you.  

Meanwhile, you’re taking comfort in the smell of Steve on his shirt, holding it up to your nose and taking deep breaths over and over hoping to calm yourself down.

So what if you can’t sleep tonight?  You’ve definitely survived through sleepless nights before.

But Steve would definitely notice if you couldn’t sleep.  He’s so caring and attentive.  

That means that he’ll be awake worrying about why you’re not asleep, which keeps him from getting any sleep, and then you’ll both just be awake and miserable all night long.

Maybe you should just pretend to fall asleep until he actually falls asleep.  

You’re startled by a gentle knock on the door.

“Sweetheart?  I’ve got the bed ready for us.”

You take one more deep breath, exiting the bathroom to envelope Steve in a tight hug around his chest.

He stumbles back a bit at the force of your affections, but is quick to wrap his strong arms around you with a warm chuckle into your hair.

“Ready for bed?” he asks you.

You sigh into his chest.  “As I’ll ever be.”

-

After half an hour of cuddling with Steve, you’ve given up on all attempts to get comfortable.

It’s not that you weren’t comfortable in Steve’s arms, far from it.  The feeling of his naked chest rising and falling against your back and his thick arms surrounding you was possibly the only thing keeping you from crawling out of your skin at the moment. 

Steve’s felt your irregular breathing and squirming for the past ten minutes, but he didn’t want to distract you just in case you were on the cusp of falling asleep.  It was the slightly irritated sigh you let out that let him know that something was wrong.

You knew you shouldn’t have sighed like that, but you couldn’t help it.  The pillow under your head wasn’t right, the blanket on your legs was too warm, and you could feel the tag on Steve’s t-shirt resting at the back of your neck.  You felt Steve’s arms tighten just a bit around you, you had hoped he’d been asleep.

“Hey, you okay?” he whispers into your ear.

“Y-yeah, yeah I’m okay,” you answer, “just trying to get comfy.”

You feel Steve rise to one elbow behind you and you turn your head to look up at him as he clicks on the lamp on his nightstand.

“What can I do to help?”

The sweet, adoring look on his face is what causes the dam to break, and your eyes fill with tears.

Steve is instantly alarmed, rushing to hold your face gently in one of his big hands.

“Baby, baby,” he coos, “Hey, what’s wrong, huh?”

You roughly wipe your face with the heels of your palms, and let out a trembling breath.

“It’s nothing, Steve.  Let’s just go to bed, okay?”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow together as he frowns down at you.  “Baby, I’m sorry but something’s obviously wrong.  Tell me what it is so I can fix it.”  He brings his hand back up to your cheek and lets his thumb stroke your skin back and forth soothingly.  You decide to let it all out.

“It’s just that–I can’t sleep here.”

Steve looks at you confused.  “I–you’ve slept here before, right?”

“I mean, yes, but also no.  It’s all so complicated Stevie.”

He sees that your walls are starting to come down with the use of your favorite pet name for him.  He loves when you call him Stevie, it’s only when you’re being soft and sweet with him that you use it.

“Just tell me what’s bothering you, baby, please.  Maybe I won’t think it’s so complicated.”  Steve strokes the hair next to your ear and speaks to you in his lower, warmer, sleepy voice.  It’s like a balm to all of your worries.

“I have these very specific sleeping conditions at home.  If it’s not just right, then I can’t sleep.”

Steve nods his head.  “What kind of conditions are we talking about?”

You take a deep breath, readying yourself to lay it all out on the table in front of Steve, hoping and praying that he doesn’t think that you’re some kind of high maintenance freak when it’s all over.

“I can’t sleep with a shirt on, it feels weird on my skin.  And I can’t sleep without my pillows from my bed.  Or my blanket between my legs.  And I feel all hot and itchy and it’s usually so cold and dark in my room.”  You’d been ranting while making an effort to not meet Steve’s eyes, worried at what you might see there.  When you finally do look at him, he’s hard to read.

“I know it’s a lot and it’s probably too much and I’m probably too much and-”

You're interrupted by Steve placing his pointer over your lips to silence you.  The firm stare he’s fixing you with commands of your attention.

“First of all, you are not, ever too much.  I can handle anything you throw at me, baby.  I swear.”

The edges of your lips quirk up in the beginnings of a smile, Steve takes his finger from your lips and goes back to holding the side of your face.

“Why didn’t you tell me about all of this before we laid down?”

You huff softly and look away, embarrassed to have been so scared to tell him about your anxieties when he’s obviously the greatest, sweetest, most understanding boyfriend on the planet. 

“I guess I was just nervous that you’d think I was high maintenance.”

Steve scoffs.  “You’re saying this to the guy who used to wake up an hour earlier for school in the mornings so that he could do his hair every day.”  Steve playfully growls into your neck when he says this, and you can’t hold back your giggles.

He looks at you, still stroking your hair, and smiles before planting a kiss on your lips and pulling away with a ‘mwah.’

“What can we do to make it better, hm?”

You think for a bit, and then sheepishly ask, “Would it be okay if I slept without my shirt?”

Steve blushes and blinks at you a few times, shocked that you’d even feel like you had to ask.

“Of course, baby.  I’d never say no to that, c’mon now.”  You both sit up, giggling softly as he helps you take your his shirt off.  Steve seems to be trapped in a daze, his eyes glazing over as he takes in all of your newly naked skin.

“What’s next?” he slurs, still staring at your chest.  You laugh and playfully shove his shoulder, breaking him out of his trance.

You look around at the bed and his room, biting your lip while you think of how else to make yourself more comfortable. 

“Do you have any extra pillows maybe?” you ask, bringing your knees to your chest and resting your chin on top of them.

Steve does a quick survey of his room, then remembers that he might’ve seen some in his closet.  He darts out of bed and makes his way over to his closet to search for them.

You take this opportunity to bask in the love you have for him.  In the warm light of his lamp, you watch as the muscles of his upper body flex and ripple while he rummages through his closet.  You can’t believe that this beautiful man is not only yours, but that he’s going through all of this effort just to make sure you can sleep comfortably with him in his bed.  You’re so unbelievably lucky.

Steve turns around to triumphantly hold up two pillows for you to inspect.  

“Which one?” He asks. 

“Both, if that’s okay.”  He nods and hurries back over to the bed, pillows in hand.  You take one and place it on top of the one you had been laying on, trying to copy the fullness of your pillow at home.  You take the second pillow and place it between your legs, for your right leg to rest on top of.  You’d always loved sleeping on your side, but hated the feeling of your thighs sticking together.

Steve tries to be good, but he can’t help himself from watching your naked breasts move while you readjust the pillows to your liking.  He feels a warmth in his chest as he observes you making yourself comfortable in his bed, and he wishes for many, many more nights like this.  

You adjust the blankets around your leg so that your leg isn’t completely covered, and you finally lay down with a huff.  

“Better?” Steve asks as he leans over to turn his lamp off.  He’s happy to slide behind you once again, relishing in the feel of your bare skin on his.

“I think so.”

Everything is fine, really.  It’s just that the pillow in between your thighs keeps slipping away.  Ugh.

“You think so?” Steve tickles your side with his fingers, he loves the sound of your girlish giggles.

“It’s just the pillow between my legs.  It won’t stay put.”

Steve takes a breath, assessing the situation.  He doesn’t really have any other throw blankets lying around, and he makes a mental note to buy some more before the next time you come over.  Then, he gets an idea.

“Can I try something?”

You turn your head towards him and nod, curious about what his idea is.

Steve takes the pillow from your legs and pulls it out from under the comforter, tossing it at the end of the bed.  He then grabs your right thigh and lifts it a bit.  You begin to question his plan, but then you feel the warmth of his right thigh sliding between yours.  Steve hikes his knee up a little higher on the bed, so that his thigh fits snuggly in between your legs.  

“Oh,” you say, cheeks heating up at the feeling of his thick, muscular thigh against your core.

You adjust your hips a bit, and then at last relax into Steve’s embrace, comfy at last.

Steve laughs smugly, “Is that alright?”

“Mhmm,” you murmur, smiling and already feeling sleepier by the second.

“Goodnight sweetheart,” Steve whispers into your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“G’night Stevie,” you reply.

The last thing you feel before drifting off into dreamland are Steve’s arms tightening around you, holding you as you sleep soundly all through the night.

taglist <3

@josephquinnsfreckles @the-fairy-anon @anukulee @yujyujj @littlebebebunny @meetmeatyourworst @lalalala-melmosworld @someantics

[faemingi]

𓇢𓆸 solace in us

ateez! song mingi x reader ᡣ𐭩

summary; your boyfriend comforts you thru health concerns and fertility issues

pairing; song mingi x afab!reader

word count; 2.2k

tags; comfort, fluff, grief

trigger warnings; infertility, reproductive illness !!

notes; personal to me — ♡

ᡣ𐭩

my dream had always been to be a mother.

and after meeting mingi, that desire grew into an aching need. the thought of us blossoming into such a testament of our love as that filled me with not only joy for my own dream, but euphoria at the thought of getting to be the person who makes him a father. he was young, i was young, but i had never met anyone with as much love to give as he did, and i felt in my heart that he could and would be the best parent.

he was aware that i was no longer on any form of contraceptive, and while we weren’t purposefully trying to conceive, we weren’t actively trying to prevent it. it wasn’t really a thought for either of us, and the way we were intimate was never careless nor with the sole intent to get pregnant. but we both shared the idea that we wanted a family together in the future, and my greatest hope was that i would be able to surprise him with the news that he was going to be a father.

i sat beside him on my couch, my chin resting against my knees as my thighs were brought up to my chest. he was sleepily watching the movie we’d put on an hour prior, but my drowsy eyes could only focus on him. he was unaware of my staring at him, and i giggled quietly, causing his attention to turn to me.

“what?” he asked, blissfully ignorant to the fact that i hadn’t been paying a bit of attention to the TV. his bare, clear skin without makeup adorning his eyelids, playful concern spreading across his face as i struggled to answer. i shook my head, unsure of why the bliss i felt was causing me to laugh.

“i just love you,” i said softly.

his bashfulness caused the soft pink of his cheeks to darken, while i knew he wasn’t shy about his affection, but just flustered when i professed my adoration for him unprompted. he reached out, pulling me against him, and i snuggled closer into his chest. his scent was so comforting, welcoming, him. i hated the way that his presence made me sleepy from how safe i felt, because i wanted nothing more than to stay awake 24/7 showering him with kisses and praise.

he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “i love you more than anything.” another kiss, his lips against my hair longer this time. “anything.”

we fell asleep on the couch that night.

•

the next day, i was sat on the bathroom floor. i was struggling to keep quiet, but devastation was debilitating me, and stifling my sobs was becoming more and more difficult by the second. mingi was still here at my apartment, but he was in the other room, and in his usual fashion i knew he was waiting patiently impatient for me to return.

it was the fourth time my late period came with not one, but two negative pregnancy tests, and the knowledge i had of my cycle had made it almost impossible for the timing to have been wrong. i wrapped the plastic tests in toilet paper and shoved them down into the trash can, and stood up to wipe my eyes. splashing my face with cold water, wiping my nose, trying to convince myself it was okay, nothing helped. every time i felt a sliver of peace, it was broken with the reality of the circumstances. it took forever to catch my breath and gain the courage to return to mingi’s side.

when i opened the bathroom door, however, he was standing directly behind it, staring at me with a worry and fear i had never seen in his eyes before.

“what’s wrong?” he asked. “you were crying?”

i felt paralyzed, my blood frozen cold in my veins. we were both too nervous to speak.

he finally reached out, taking my hand in his. “please, please tell me.”

i didn’t want to speak, it felt as though i couldn’t. “i… i’m sorry for worrying you —”

he reached up to wipe a tear from under my eye. “talk to me. that’s what i’m here for.”

“my… my period was late,” i stuttered out. “but i took two tests and they were negative.” my voice broke at the end of my sentence. i hated that i felt so broken up over this. his love and his presence was more than enough, my happiness wasn’t reliant on being a mother.

“oh,” he pulled me into him, breathing out a sigh of relief and sadness. “baby, it’s okay.”

“no, it’s not,” i sniffed. “i feel so broken.”

“you’re not broken.” he rubbed my back and he squeezed me tighter. “you are so perfect.”

i cried into his shirt for a while longer, and as perfect as he is, he was there with me until i got through it.

•

my new doctor had ordered testing. they wouldn’t have been as concerned, if symptoms outside of not getting pregnant hadn’t also been present. bloodwork, ultrasounds, MRIs. the results were all to be discussed with my doctor at once, and i waited anxiously as the days passed before i met with her.

mingi clutched my hand, rubbing his fingers on my skin reassuringly, my knee bouncing rapidly. i had protested him being present for this appointment, yet he expressed the need to be there for me, and while he respected me immensely, i decided that his accompaniment would be beneficial in the long run. and i was right, as the news delivered by my doctor made my brain pull the parachute cord, and i was outside my body for the entirety of our conversation.

if he was upset, he masked it well, as he held my hand and took care of speaking to the doctor on my behalf. it was hard for me to cry in the presence of medical professionals, so i was frozen, the lump in my throat aching so bad i thought i might throw up. the doctor’s professionalism came across as apathetic, though the sadness in her eyes at having to share the results with me was apparent. bicornuate uterus, external endometrial adhesions, fallopian blockage, hydrosalpinx… she couldn’t fathom how the pain was tolerable for me, or how these things hadn’t been caught sooner. she was apologetic. she said she was sorry the health care system and medical industry had failed me. she said we could discuss other treatment options at a later date when i was ready. for now i was being put on a form of birth control, hormonal drug, contraceptive to help the symptoms and shrink the growths.

back in the car, mingi held me, and i cried.

•

when we returned home, my heart broke at my inability to be present for mingi, but i went straight to bed. i laid down, my blinds closed and the lights out, and covered myself with my blanket. it was cold in my apartment, beginning to rain outside, and i knew that the cool air would be a comfort as my tears burned my face.

the hum of the air conditioning overpowered the sound of footsteps, and i was startled by mingi joining me in bed.

“you don’t have to -”

“i want to,” he interrupted.

his arms slid around me from behind, pulling me close into being his little spoon, and he held me tight, resting his hand under my shirt, right on my lower belly between my hips.

as soon as his warm fingers spread across my skin, i couldn’t stop the tears. he pressed a kiss to my back, his forehead against my shoulder. “i wish i could take your pain away.”

i sniffed. “i’m glad that you don’t have to.”

his lips were warm against my skin, his voice soft and quiet. “baby, i hate to see you in pain.”

i struggled to speak. “i won’t be able to make you a father.”

i felt him take a shaky breath, and he gently grabbed my arm to turn me over and face him. he had taken so much initiative and cared for me so much in the short while that i’d been struggling, so i didn’t resist when he wanted to speak to me directly. i just didn’t want to see his face knowing i was causing him to cry.

but when i looked at him, he was giving me the saddest smile, tears welling in his eyes. “and i won’t be able to make you a mother,” he said, touching my face gently. “it’s not your fault. i wish so badly that i could give you the same.” he leaned forward to kiss my forehead. “but we have so much time and so many options.”

i felt unworthy of such love and kindness. “it makes me feel so worthless,” i said. “i knew something was wrong. i just didn’t expect it to be that bad. i didn’t expect my body to be that fucked up.”

he traced his thumb along my cheekbone to wipe a tear away. “it’s not fucked up. nothing about you is fucked up. it is not your fault.” he kissed my nose. “today, i love you more than i ever have. and there is nothing worth more than your love to me.”

•

he wasn’t in bed when i woke up the next day. i figured he had stepped out briefly for something, but i didn’t question or worry. he had a habit of leaving without waking me if he thought he’d be back before i got up for the day.

i checked the time, though, and it was almost noon. i sleep a lot when i’m sad. and i sleep so deep. i could barely keep my eyes open.

mingi held me all night, until i was able to relax. my heart still ached so heavily in my chest. but the panic was gone. i was left with exhaustion and absolute despair. it wasn’t because i felt like my purpose was to be a mother, or that my happiness relied on it, or that i was failing mingi. it was because i was sick, my body was broken, and i had a chronic disease inside of me that made my future unclear and scary.

that was the worst of it. the infertility was just the icing on that cake.

i heard the front door open, and got tense at the same time that i felt comfort from mingi’s return. he was quiet as he moved about the kitchen, his movements gentle and silent for — what i KNEW was — my sake. he would’ve parted the seas for me, had i asked.

i didn’t hear him walking towards the bedroom, yet i heard the sound of a small bell jingling, and stayed still to listen closer. it couldn’t have been his keys, but i was unsure as to what it could’ve been otherwise. i hadn’t heard a sound like it before.

just as i sat up, a little gray and white kitten with a bell hanging from her collar came running into the room.

my mouth immediately fell open in shock, throwing the blankets off of me to join the kitten on the floor. i got to my knees to get a closer look, and behind the kitten followed my sweet mingi.

i looked up at him in awe, and he grinned happily.

“you didn’t,” i said. he joined me on the floor, crossing his legs, sitting right beside me.

he lifted the kitten up and set it in my lap, and i held my hands up, unsure what to do, but the little baby curled up on my lap and stared up at me, bright blue eyes looking calm and curious.

“it’s a girl,” he said. “i had been wanting to surprise you for a while but… after yesterday, i figured it was the right time.”

“oh, mingi,” i whispered, reaching down to pet her. she immediately began purring and leaning into my touch. seeing her up close, i realized her collar was a pink bow, the little gold bell jingling quietly with every movement. i looked back at mingi. he was looking back at me with such love, but also waiting intently to hear about how i felt. “i love you so much. i don’t know what to say.”

“are you happy?” he asked, his concern for my wellbeing so endearing i wanted to melt.

i nodded, reaching out to pull him in, and kiss him softly on his lips. “i am so happy. this is the most amazing thing you could’ve done for me.” i took his face in both hands, looking him in the eyes. “i love you.” another kiss.

he laughed quietly, kissing me back.

“so many things are uncertain,” he said. “and all we can do is wait it out. but i hope that one thing you never question is how much i love you. how in love with you i am.” he reached out to pet the kitten in my lap. “and now, she can be a testament to that.”

he became engrossed in petting her, talking to her sweetly, but i couldn’t look away from him. he was so loving, and so giving, and so perfect. it would take me an infinite amount of lifetimes to ever begin to repay him and it still wouldn’t be enough. i would be forever indebted to his selfless devotion, yet all he asked for in return was my presence. my affection. my love.

and song mingi will forever own my heart. ♡

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Explosion of Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: stepping on a mine, thinking you're gonna die, thinking the love of your life is gonna die, angst, fluff at the end

Summary: Fury has you and the team going through a minefield to look for lost data the Soviets left behind. Your scanners pick up most of the mines, but luck has it that you step on the most dangerous one of all.

Squares Filled: explosion (2020) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: I realize that landmines explode as soon as someone makes contact with them, HOWEVER, this is my story and it's fiction so I get to make the rules and I say only when the pressure is relieved do they explode like in the movies.

x

Miles of wasteland stand before you, acres of land that are charred from the explosions that happened between the Soviets and US Intelligence. The Soviets stole data with the intention of selling it to assassins and killers, so Fury tasked your team to go collect that stolen data. When the Soviets knew the Us was closing in on them, they scattered the data across acres knowing it would take them forever to try and retrieve it.

You’re about to step foot onto the charred land when Bucky stops you.

“Look at this.” He points to a sign a few yards away. “This is a minefield. Be careful. I don’t really wanna clean bits and pieces of the team.”

“Should we turn back?” you ask. “We only have technology scanners for the area. We can grab mine scanners.”

“No, we’re already here. Just be careful. Our scanners should be able to detect them.”

“Easy for you to say. You can fly,” you joke with Tony.

The land is so large that you have to split up on your own. Tony’s right, the scanners you have are able to detect most of the mines. Some of them are hidden so you’re not going to touch those areas if you don’t know if there is a landmine or not. Everyone is connected with earpieces so you can communicate if something is wrong, so you’re just listening to the casual conversation some are having as if you’re taking a walk in the park instead of through a deadly minefield.

“Are you and Laura finally taking that vacation you’ve been talking about?” Natasha asks.

“Yeah. Cooper is old enough to watch the other two. I was thinking of taking her up north.”

“I think she’d like that.”

You scan the ground as you walk slowly and find one of the boxes buried containing data. You kneel and dig the box up before plugging your flash drive into the data box. Once it’s done downloading, you take it out and continue to search for other data boxes. Your scanner is picking up most of the landmines but there is one patch of land that is coming up blank.

Stupid you walks right over it thinking it’s safe. You step onto fresh soil and hear something click from below you. You pause and look down to see what you stepped on. It’s buried underneath the ground but you can definitely feel something under your foot. Since this place is so big, there is no one around you to help you. No one knows you’ve stepped on one. No one knows you need help.

Your first instinct is to run like hell and hope you can survive, but you’ll only have a second before the mine goes off. Tears start rolling down your cheeks at the thought of dying. You’re still young, you still want to see the world, get married to the love of your life, and live life to the fullest with him by your side.

“Hey, guys?” you sniffle and wipe your tears even though more fall. “I’m in trouble here.”

“What’s going on?” Bucky asks in concern.

“I stepped on a mine.” Everyone becomes alert. Your body shakes in fear and your voice cracks under the pressure. “What do I do?”

“I’m on my way. Don’t move,” Bucky says. Only Bucky comes to your aid because he doesn’t want to put anyone else at risk of stepping on a mine. Bucky can see just how terrified you are when he gets to you. “Doll, you’re gonna be okay. Don’t worry, I got you.”

“I don’t want to die,” you cry.

“You’re not gonna die. I promise I won’t let that happen. Take some deep breaths for me, Doll.” The first and second ones are shaky but the third and fourth ones are much smoother. “Good girl. You’re doing great. Keep doing that. I’m gonna dig the mine out so I can see what we’re dealing with. This won’t explode. I’m just digging around it.”

“Okay,” you sigh shakily.

Bucky gets on his knees and uses his knife to dig out the soil around the mine. Tony, Rhodey, and Sam fly over to see how bad the situation is while the rest of the Avengers make their way back to the start of the minefield.

“What’s going on here? What do you see?” Sam asks Bucky.

Bucky digs out enough soil to see exactly the kind of mind you stepped on.

“It’s a bounding mine.”

“Shit,” Sam sighs.

“What does that mean?” you panic.

“Nothing--”

“Don’t bullshit me, Bucky. What does that mean?”

“It’s a more deadly mine than the others. It shoots the main propeller about four feet into the air, and metal shards fly out of it over the span of six hundred feet. It’s very deadly.”

“Can you disable it?” Steve asks over comm.

“No.”

“Oh, God,” you cry and cover your mouth. You take two deep breaths to calm yourself down. “Bucky, get the hell out of here.”

“Like hell, I’m leaving you.”

“Bucky, please,” you whimper and take his hand. He stands to his full height in front of you. “I don’t want to die but I don’t want you to die more. You need to get out of here. There’s no use for this mine to take both of us out. Tony, get him the hell out of here.”

Tony is about to take Bucky when your boyfriend holds up a hand to stop him.

“Wait. Can I at least get a kiss goodbye?”

Instead of giving him a verbal answer, you pull him close and kiss him like it’s gonna be your last. He slides his hand into your hair and grips it gently so he can control the kiss. He kisses you in a way that makes your head dizzy. The kind of kiss that makes you forget about everything but the feel of his lips.

If he’s gonna kiss you one more time, may as well make it memorable. You pull away from him and open your eyes to study the shade of blue in his. You expect him to pull away and leave your side but you frown when he doesn’t. You look down to see him standing on top of the mine and you are free. He must have switched positions with you while kissing you.

“No, what did you do?” you gasp.

“I promised you I wouldn’t let you die.”

“No, I’m not letting you do this!”

“Tony, get her out of here.”

As soon as Tony’s hands are on you, you’re fighting him.

“No! Bucky!” Tony grips you tightly and flies off with you in his arms. The image of Bucky gets smaller and smaller until you can’t see him anymore. As soon as Tony sets you down, you’re running toward Bucky. Steve jumps into action and practically tackles you to the ground. “No! Let me go! Please! Bucky!!!”

“Y/N, stop fighting.”

“No! You gotta let me go. I have to be with him!” Suddenly, an explosion happens and you sob loudly. “NO! Bucky!!”

You fall to the ground in a fit of sobs at the loss of your boyfriend. Steve’s arms are still wrapped around your body to prevent you from going after him. As soon as one explosion happened, another one followed suit, and another one, and another one. The air is covered with thick smoke that is very hard to see through so you’re not sure if Bucky is even alive.

Everyone is silent for their fallen friend. The only thing that can be heard is your heartbreaking sobs.

“Look, I see something,” Clint points out something in the smoke.

You look up and see something emerging from the smoke. Once the smoke clears, you can see Bucky walking toward the group with his vibranium arm in his flesh hand.

“Did you really think I was gonna let a mine take me from my girl?” he coughs.

The spikes on his body open to welcome his arm and he locks it into place. He whips his arm around to make sure it’s on properly, and you scramble out of Steve’s arms. You run into Bucky’s arms and cry against his chest. You’re too overwhelmed to say anything but hug, kiss, and embrace him. When you’ve calmed down, you pull away from him and slap him in the chest.

“Never do that again!”

“I had no choice. I knew I could have survived but you wouldn’t have.”

“You could have at least told me that!”

“I didn’t know if it was gonna work or not,” he says quietly.

Everyone got what they needed from the minefield, so you head back to the Compound. You haven’t said one word to Bucky after leaving the minefield, and he hates when you give him the silent treatment.

“Doll, please talk to me,” he begs. He follows you into your shared bedroom, and you quickly head into the bathroom. Before he can join you, you close the door and lock it so he can’t get in. Of course, he can get in with his metal arm but he’s respecting your privacy. “I’m sorry, but I had to save your life.” He rests his forehead on the door and he can hear you crying softly inside. “Y/N, please come out.”

You don’t. He sits on the floor right outside the bathroom door and waits for you to come out. He sits there for hours waiting patiently for you to come out of the bathroom. When you do, you take a seat next to him on the floor.

“What we have is a partnership, Bucky.” You look into his eyes. “Your life isn’t fully yours anymore. You have my heart in your hand so if you die, then so will I.”

“The same thing goes for you, Doll.”

“If you would have told me what you wanted to do, I would have been more likely to go along with it. You have to be better at communicating. I will do the same.”

“Okay, you got it. Do you want to watch movies for the rest of the night?”

“Yes,” you smile.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[idyllicwillowtree]

How Much Love

Genre: Steve Harrington x fem!reader / gn!reader; angst with fluffy ending, hurt/comfort, established relationship

Summary: Steve has a migraine attack but he’s too stubborn to take care of himself.

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: one curse word, non-descriptive vomiting, migraine symptoms, chronic pain, crying, one use of Y/N, dumb joke, p*rn reference?

Author’s note: I know the migraine thing has been overdone but idc :) I'm pretty sure this could be read as gender neutral but you can lmk if that's not the case

Enjoy!

Main Masterlist

Steve knew he shouldn’t have gone to work. The second his eyes opened he knew it was going to be a rough day. The persistent throbbing on the left side of his face and the twist of nausea in his stomach would be enough to convince anyone else that they should take it easy.

Not for Steve though.

He’s done this dance before. The battle in his mind of not wanting to waste one of his precious sick days or if he should stay home and take care of himself so he can make it through the next day. He usually sucked it up and went with the former.

I’ve had worse before, he’d rationalize to himself. I can handle it.

His true motivation for leaving the comfort and warmth of his bed was the date he had planned for you two. Steve went all out with flowers, chocolates, dinner reservation at Enzo’s, and concluding the night snuggled up on his couch watching a rented movie.  

But the customers kept coming. Steve could've sworn they were all there, not to rent a movie, but to exacerbate his migraine attack. Tired mothers bringing in their screaming babies, a group of smelly teenagers, and a boisterous man who was trying to convince Robin that The Godfather was the greatest movie ever made. That’s not even mentioning the flickering fluorescent lights that Keith refuses to change the bulbs in.

Robin began to take notice once Steve kept bumping into the shelves as he put away tapes around the store. She watched as he mustered up enough strength to pick up a stack of returned tapes and mindlessly put The Muppet Babies in the Horror section and something called I Dream of Weenie in the kids section.

  By 4:30, he was absolutely fried.

“Go home, dingus,” Robin ordered.

All Steve could muster was a small grunt from his spot at the register. His forehead was pressed to the cool counter, toned arms wrapped around his head, trying to keep as much noise and light out as possible.

The bell on the door of Family Video was the final nail in the coffin. People have been coming in and out all day but this time the ring pierced through the side of his head like a burning knife, swiftly penetrating his brain and twisting it for good measure. 

Steve’s back stiffened as he sat up too fast, stomach turning when he ran blindly through the store and into the bathroom before emptying out the contents of his stomach. He tried not to think about when the last time the toilet was cleaned as he kept his face in the ceramic bowl, spitting out the rest of the sour bile coating his throat.

Steve barely heard the door creak open through the throbbing in his head and the ringing in his ears, but he did notice the light in the bathroom turn off. “Go away, Robin,” he croaked out. 

The disobedient footsteps continued towards him. He just wanted to be left alone, feeling too vulnerable in this state. He felt embarrassment twist in his chest at the thought of not being able to handle a simple headache.

A cold hand landed on the back of his neck and began to massage lightly. It felt comforting but Steve’s mind was rejecting it, “Robin, I said-”

He finally lifted his heavy head, half opened eyes widened slightly as he met your concerned gaze, only for him to start welling up. Steve’s lip trembled as it failed to keep a sob from escaping.

“Oh baby,” you whispered. “Not feeling good?”

Steve hung his head the best he could with his stiff neck and shook his head in response.

“It’s okay, Stevie. Try not to move your head too much.” 

You squatted next to him on the nasty bathroom floor and gently brought him into your arms. You let him cry into your shirt, gently rubbing soothing circles on his back and neck. Steve knew that crying would only hurt his head more, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t understand the emotions he was feeling yet, but he knew he was relieved to see you show up. Like a superhero, there to heal and protect him from any harm.

“I’m here now, baby. Let’s get you home, okay?”

_______________________________________________

Steve was so out of it he wasn’t sure how it happened, but the next thing he knew he was snuggled in a cocoon of pillows and blankets. He peeled his eyes open and recognized the dark ceiling of his bedroom.

You were puttering around the room, tidying up a little so Steve would have one less thing to worry about. He admired how natural it looked for you, knowing where everything goes and even avoiding the loud creaking spots on the floor. Steve had the sudden urge to reach out but you tucked him in so well he was having trouble slipping his arms out.

His grunt of protest over the blanket entrapment alerted you and you were by his side in an instant.

“What is it baby?” you whispered gently, “you need some water? Or a new ice pack?” 

Only when you removed the cool washcloth from his forehead did he notice the satisfying chill. He must have been practically asleep when you brought him home because he really doesn’t remember anything.

“What time is it?” Steve croaked out.

He leaned into the kiss you pressed gently to his cheek before you answered, “almost midnight.”

“What?!” Steve immediately went to sit up, but in his weakened state you were easily able to push him back down. “We had reservations!”

“I know, Stevie. It was really sweet of you to make plans but nothing we can do about it now,” you tried to reason. “We need to get you feeling better.”

“But I-”

“Stop that,” you demanded, still with a quiet and gentle tone, but it was still enough to cut him off. “Let me take care of you, Stevie. I know you feel bad, but I want to take care of you.”

Steve wasn’t sure if you meant he was feeling bad because he was sick or because of the immense amount of guilt he feels whenever he sees himself as a burden to others. Probably a little of both.

“I just…I was looking forward to tonight,” Steve muttered tiredly. “And this stupid chronic thing just always gets in the way and I don't…I don’t like asking for help.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he was making much sense but your smile showed him you understood. Your expression was soft and comforting as you gently raked your fingers through his hair. “Steve, I love you. All of you. Every single part of you I just adore. It doesn’t matter if those parts are feeling bad or good, I’ll always be here,” you stroked his cheek gently with the back of your hand, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. “I like caring for you Steve. It makes me feel good. So don’t worry about burdening me or anything like that, okay?”

Steve felt his lip tremble again but managed to gulp down his sobs this time. He whispered a quiet, “thank you” before fully relaxing. He lazily pursed his lips, silently asking for affection, which you happily fulfilled. You moved in close and kissed his lips as a way to let him know you will support him during this tough time.

Once you were leaned back you said, “now, on a scale from one to ten, how bad does it hurt?”

“Mm…Eleven.”

“No, it’s Y/N.”

Silence engulfed the negative space until a curious Steve peeled one eye open, only to see your shit-eating grin. He knew you’d be frozen like that until he laughed, but your expression was usually funnier than the joke.

He puffed out a laugh through his nose before shutting his eyes again. “That was horrible,” he said.

“Maybe, but at least I got you to smile,” you said smugly.

“Mm you sure did,” he praised you lightly. “Now c’mere. Cuddling is the best medicine.”

It’s called ‘chronic pain’ for a reason. Sure you can dull the pain with medications and treatments but it’ll always be there. Sometimes all you have to do is deal with it and ride it out,  but it makes it so much easier when there’s someone there who loves and supports you. 

Love may not be able to cure all kinds of pain but Steve thinks your love comes pretty close.

thank you for reading!

Main Masterlist

[magisland]

chapter XXXI : always and forever

wc: 1k words

lua’s note: this chapter happens a couple years after the last chapter

seokmin, who was resting between your legs, his head laying down on your stomach, sighed and closed the book before turning his head upwards to look at you

“so, what do you think? did you like it? give me a review like you’re reviewing a movie on letterboxd!” you said looking down at him, nervous and curious about his opinion on your book.

“okay, but can i be truly honest? youre not gonna get hurt?”

you nodded, “yes you can, bring it on, i can handle it”

“okay, but you asked for it!”, he said while sitting up to be able to talk to you face to face, “i loved it. i really did”

“really?”

“of course! i loved the way you showed how you started lacking confidence about not sharing a string with someone and how you got the confidence back. i think you really wrote it so well and really put your heart on it, this book shows your thoughts in such a transparent way and i think it shows your vulnerable side, but also your strong side as well, it made me feel like i was reading your journal and not a book, which can be a good or vad thing depending on who’s reading it.” he placed his hand on his chest and chuckled, “but i liked it. i also loved the way you wrote about how our string can be invisible for ourselves just like other people’s string is invisible for us and how you put in your book our conversation about our love being a secret that the universe doesnt know about. i really, really, really loved your book, yn. im proud of you”

you smiled, holding back your tears, “im so glad you loved my book, honestly it was such a crazy experience and journey writing this book and, since at some point the book tells about our story, your opinion is really important to me. at first, i thought you were going to say negative things about the book”, you chuckled.

he put a strand of your hair behind your ear before wiping away the single tear that was starting to run down your cheek, “youre so talented. im sure people are gonna love your book”. he hugged you, caressing your hair as a way of trying to soothe you since you began to cry, “they better be happy tears”, he said softly.

you chuckled, still crying, “yeah.. they’re happy tears. im really happy about my book, about my life in general and about us… i would never replace one single thing about my life, i couldnt be happier”.

he hummed softly while laying you down on his lap and holding your hand as you two began to watch the sea, the comfortable silence filling the air. you kept watching the sea, but seokmin’s eyes were glued to your hands, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

seokmin cleared his throat and spoke up, “uh.. yn?”

“yea, minnie?”, you said still watching the sea.

“i think the universe knows our secret now”, he spoke quietly.

“huh? what you mean?” you looked up at him, seeing his watery eyes and then followed his gaze, only to find your fingers intertwined with his and a string around your pinky fingers. your eyes widened, “what the hell?! how did- when did that happen?!?”

“i dont know,” he sniffed, “it wasn’t there when we were reading the book!”

“did we… did we just made each other our soulmates?”

“i think we did!” he chuckled between his sobs, “i didnt know this could happen”

“i guess we can choose our soulmate. come here,” you hugged him, letting him rest his head on your shoulder, “i would spend the rest of my life by your side regardless this happening or not. i already knew youre my one, but i guess the universe also knows that now. our love is not a secret anymore”

seokmin nodded, trying to calm down so he could speak without any problems, “i.. i dont know how, why or when did this happen, but im so happy it did. i love you so much, yn”

“i love you too, seokmin”, you leaned back to look at him, cupped his face and smiled at the sight of your loved one crying with a smile on his face, it was clear about how much love he has for you just by the way he looks at you, like youre a diamond, like you’re the only thing that really matters to him, “i love you so damn much”

you kissed him, placing your hands around his neck and he wrapping his arms around your waist. the kiss was slow, soft and full of love. once the kiss was broken and he rested his forehead against yours, looking down at your hands

“i cant stop looking at it. im totally mesmerized” he sniffed and smiled, caressing your hand, “cant believe now youre really my soulmate… people are never going to believe us”

“our friends will”, you said smiling.

“youre right, our friends will”

“you know, i think ill need to write another book now”, you chuckled, “another best seller? wow, my girl will become the best writer ever. not you arent the best writer ever already, you know”, he pinched your cheek and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“you spoil me way too much”

“maybe i do and ill probably spoil you even more since now i know its gonna be us always and forever”

“thats true.. its gonna be us always and forever ”, you said and kissed the back of his hand before laying your head back down on his stomach. you didn’t know how did that happen, maybe the universe was testing out you too or maybe you changed your destinies. you werent sure of anything but the fact that you love seokmin more than anyone could ever imagine, that his love is the most important thing in your life and that this love will last forever.

THE END

lua’s notes: and with that, invisible string comes to an end! i want to thank everyone who read it, interacted with it and enjoyed it. i really means the world to me!! im still thinking if i should post an epilogue or not so let me know if you would enjoy invisible string having an epilogue! also, let me know if you liked the smau, it can be as a comment or as an ask. your opinions about the history itself, the characters or the end are always welcomed 😁 thank you for supporting my work and i hope to see yall here again for my next projects. love you ❤️

prev - masterlist

INVISIBLE STRING

in a world where when you turn 18 you share an invisible string with your soulmate that only you and your respective soulmate can see it, seokmin, also known as dokyeom, is an actor in the musical theatre world that doesnt have a soulmate and keep it as a secret. meanwhile, yn works in a bookstore and doesnt seem bothered at all by the fact of not sharing a string with someone. is it possible to change the destiny and find your soulmate even tho you dont share the invisible string with anyone?

[herozdiary]

Hey, can I request a comfort fic where Reader helps Simon after the crash?? Like just some fluffy moments between the two if that’s ok :)

Your still the same

Simon x reader

This diary entry contains…fluff|mentions of car accident|blood|Established relationship|Mentions of depression and poor mental health|short

A/N:MY NOSE IS SO STUFFED I WANTED TO RIGHT MORE BUT I NEED TAKE A NAP BUT HOPEFULLY YOU ENJOY THIS!

He didn’t feel human anymore.He lost his ability to walk.He didn’t remember how felt at first.he felt nothing in his legs.

He still had you though!You stayed by his side during the whole healing process.You comforted him when he would cry about not feeling human anymore because he can’t walk.

You made him feel better by just being there with him the night of it.You didn’t care if you had to sleep in a shitty ass hospital chair.You would do it 30 more times if you needed to.

when Simon was finally released,He had to resort to doing online school as a way of finishing up college.You helped him with his work if he needed it and you would basically spend the night every day at his apartment.

He was so thankful to have you.You did everything you could.Clean,Cook and helped him bathe.It was a tough process for him but he managed on because he had you by his side.

He remembered the time you had helped him make his mom’s special chicken Alfredo.You never understood what was so special about it but Simon insisted that is was special because his mom added just a pinch of hot sauce and for some reason he found that special.

You didn’t put up much of a fight as you helped with pouring and mixing while Simon sat and instructed you on what to do.You ended up making it just like the way his mom used to make it which caused him to slightly cry before finishing and licking the plate clean.

He also remembered when you had gotten a pack of stickers from a dollar store to decorate his wheelchair so it didn’t look so boring.You placed the colorful stickers everywhere that needed some color.

“Do you really need to put hello kitty and her weird friends all over my wheelchair?”Simon asked as he watched you work.you shot him a glare before huffing.

“Yes!and her friends aren’t weird!they are actually very interesting and just for you saying that I’m gonna make you rewatch the entire hello kitty fairy tale series with me!”You say as you place the last sticker on his nose.

He grumbled before sighing in defeat.by the time you were done Simon had nearly fell asleep.You stood up off the ground and clapped at the results of your work.

“Simon! I’m finished!!”You exclaimed as you grabbed your phone and took pictures of the sighting for yourself.Simon admired his new wheelchair before smiling at you.

“I guess it looks better than a plain old wheelchair”He replied before pushing himself back and forth to see how it looked.”See now your boring plain old wheelchair is now hello kitty and her amazing friends themed!”You say as you smile.

Simon let out a small sigh at the memories before looking around the empty apartment.You had ran to go get his favorite snacks for the movie night you two had set up.He looked over at the book he never had time to work on since you had distracted him from the bad thoughts.

So what if the book was supposed to help him?it barely did and your company and silly antics was way better then some silly old book.Simon made a mental note to lock it away in the closet to dust up and be forgotten about.

He had you,You were the only thing able to distract him from the hell he was in.

[butididntpourthewhiskeys]

50 Things I'm Convinced Taylor & Travis Do - End Game Edition 🏈❤️‍🩹🍂

Yes, I have tried being normal about this relationship. No, it didn't work. Don't take this too seriously. Just a little bit of fluff on this cold Sunday 🥹📚

Taylor sending Donna selfies of herself with Travis with the caption “we miss you!"

Travis walking around her house with Olivia on his arm going “she’s my favorite. now i know, she’s my favorite.”

Travis saying “You too” when the flight attendant on Taylor's jet tells him to enjoy the flight

Travis buying Taylor cough drops at the airport because there’s 13 inside, and the flavour reminded him of her

Taylor not being able to watch old The Voice Kids episodes anymore because it breaks her heart when the kids cry when they’re sent home.

Travis randomly ordering her lunch from a local sandwich shop whilst she’s rehearsing because he knows she forgets to eat and then gets lightheaded 

Taylor being used to a random sandwich and a diet coke being passed to her by her team and not even asking whose idea it was for her to take a quick lunch break 

Travis finding a note in Taylor’s phone from July with all his green and red flags listed, and quickly noticing that the red flags column only consists of “psychopath: eats pineapple on pizza"

Travis always folding his clothes neatly together whilst being in his own little world when unpacking his suitcase 

Travis texting Taylor to ask what her room service coffee order is whilst she’s in bed next to him talking to Tree on the phone 

Taylor waking up at night to Travis being unable to sleep and him murmuring “I just realized Donkey Kong is bullshit. He’s a gorilla, not a donkey. Our kids won’t play that game, it’s just too confusing.”

Travis never leaving the house without a pack of gum or mints in his pocket

Taylor grinding her teeth at night and Travis gently waking her up whenever she’s doing it with her face pressed against his chest, reminding her to wear her Invisaligns, and her replying with a tired “thanks, baby” before opening her mouth to put them in half asleep

Taylor being silly and placing her index finger on his nose whenever he naps, asking him to say “oink” 

Travis wanting Taylor to get a dog and naming it “Donut”

Travis having a favorite pen and not letting Taylor touch it 

Taylor asking Travis to run his hands through her hair when she’s too restless to fall asleep after the show 

Travis always waking Taylor up if she decides to sleep past 3pm and peppering her face with kisses 

Scott refusing to call Travis any other name than “Trav” 

Taylor occasionally asking Travis to hold her hand when she’s got trouble falling asleep and feels anxiety rising in her chest 

When Taylor moves away from him in the middle of the night, Travis always wakes up and pulls her back to him, mumbling “Where do you think you’re going, get back here,” with his eyes still closed

Whenever they haven’t seen each other in a few days, Taylor asking Travis if it’s okay for him to share his pillow with her as she feels too far away from him on her side of the bed

Travis kissing the pad of her thumb whenever her hands are on his face as the sun rises 

Taylor mumbling “stop being so hot” whenever he flips his pillow to the cool side at night

Taylor before shows always promising Travis that she’s fine and no, she doesn’t want to talk about it, even though he knows minutes later she’ll be spilling her guts, listing off everything that could go wrong.

Travis always explaining to Taylor that his clothes need “a pop of color” and “a pop of swag” because “no one can be sad with a pop of color and some swag”

Taylor squeezing his bum when he walks by the bed to charge his phone, and her mumbling “tight end” 

Travis always sending dozens of picture into the group chat with Taylor’s family, making sure to take a picture of any eras tour movie banner he sees, every Taylor Swift mention at the airport, even sending them selfies of himself with a picture of her on the cover of some trashy magazine 

Travis always being the last one to sit down at the table whenever they go out to dinner with her family as he doesn’t want to intrude

Scott texting Travis the latest NFL odds and Travis pretending like he didn’t know and thanking Scott for the update 

Travis always noticing when Taylor gets nervous, because her chest starts heaving and she starts picking her finger nails whilst she’s in the car, which he always stops by grabbing her hand and leading it to his mouth to give each finger a gentle little kiss 

Taylor always apologizing to Travis whenever there’s fans screaming as soon as they see the two together 

Travis dancing around the hotel room in his boxers singing “Olé Olé Olé Taylor” whenever she doesn’t want to get up for her flight in the morning 

Taylor not struggling to fall asleep or doze off in his arms at all, because she’s never felt safer with anyone, no matter where she is: bathtub, airplane, car seat, sun bed, couch, hotel bed, whirl pool, dinner chair.

Travis thanking Scott and Andrea for doing the dirty thirty-four years ago and Taylor hitting him hard on her birthday 

Taylor having a note on her phone with baby names that start with a "T"

Taylor sometimes secretly wishing she’d never had written a love song for anyone before Travis 

Travis just randomly staring at Taylor whenever she speaks and her not noticing, but Andrea just smiling at him quietly 

Travis always asking Taylor to say “three thin thieves” whenever she’s wearing her Invisaligns in bed, and him dying laughing every time 

Travis being able to sense whenever Taylor is about to get emotional or upset over something, and his left hand automatically wandering to her lower back, and the other one to her right hand because he can't stand any space between them when she needs him.

Taylor waking up sweaty at night from a nightmare, and Travis pulling her closer with his eyes still closed going “I got you. I got you, baby.”

Taylor asking Travis to turn up the TV real loud when she’s going to the hotel bathroom in the morning and him overdoing it so that they both end up yelling at each other to communicate through the noise 

Travis whispering a low “oh, i love you so much” whenever Taylor turns around at night and opens her eyes confusedly for a second 

Travis claiming the little curly strand of hair on her bangs “his” whenever she’s sweaty after her show 

Taylor laughing while answering emails in bed because she hears Travis singing “big reputation, big reputation” over and over again in the shower and it sounds absolutely horrible

Travis watching her perform and just shaking his head over and over again because he can’t believe how talented the woman who he wakes up next to every day really is. 

Taylor and Travis both being worried to leave the cats alone with his dogs because they both know that her cats will outsmart the doggies and find ways to scare them

Taylor holding up one of Travises giant sweaters in front of her mom while doing laundry and saying “have you ever seen something like this? king kong. I'm dating the king kong.” 

Travis sometimes waking up at night and watching Taylor sleep whilst making sure their noses touch gently. Gently enough to make sure she won’t wake up.

Taylor running into Travises arms after each show, kissing him with a giggle on her face and him whispering a gentle “my angel” against her lips without anyone else noticing.

[secretsmutcorner]

Moonlight

1818 words | The dragon’s toy (sequel to Ground down)

Content | NSFWhump (with objects), begging, sleep deprivation, starvation, forced to work, crying, escape attempt, recapture, falling/being dropped, beating, victim blaming, mention of throwing up

Notes | The elf is so brave. Sadly they're not in an action movie but in a whump story.

Taglist | @i-walk-on-the-dark-side @echo-goes-aaa @scoundrelwithboba

Things would not get better.

The realization slowly settled into the elf's bones as each day was as horrific as the last, with never a break to recover, or wrap their head around everything that had happened.

Or even really adjust to the fucking toys the dragon kept shoving into them. Every evening, without fail, when the pain started to fade into being bearable even when moving carefully, the toy they had been forced to wear would be replaced with a bigger one. Sometimes in the mornings too, when the dragon decided for reasons the elf couldn't fathom they were ready for it.

It seemed pleased with the progress they were making, while the elf felt they were trapped in a horrible, never-ending, looping nightmare.

It enjoyed the way they screamed and cried when the replacements happened, too, they were certain of it, though that never seemed to matter in the moment--their pride never outweighed the agony of it. It enjoyed the way they begged for just a little more time to get used to it. It laughed at the way they crawled away, once more barely able to move at all.

They never seemed to get enough rest, not when the pain wouldn't let them sleep half the night, nor enough food--they had, themself, had to carry a fresh bag of food up to the lair from the altar when the time came, struggled under its weight and against their pain, when the dragon could have carried it up with perfect ease. It was, again, plain bread and grain and a few vegetables. Beetroot, which they had always hated, but they couldn't afford pickiness now.

And then, of course, they were expected to satisfy the dragon whenever it desired--which was often. Most mornings, they were awoken by being yanked out of their poor excuse for a bed, dragged before the dragon--or worse, onto the dragon--and forced to perform whatever degrading acts it felt like. Despite its promise to leave their other holes for later, they were sure it pushed deeper into their throat every day; they no longer knew whether it was sore from screaming, or from the rough treatment.

Inbetween, they dragged their exhausted body through the lair to clean. There always was something to do; never again did they dare to steal a moment of rest, even if every part of them begged for a break. Sometimes the dragon watched them move about, always awkward from trying to avoid the pain inside of them, no matter how little it helped. Sometimes it laughed at them.

All in all, there never seemed to come a time when they would be more fit to make their escape.

So they decided that tonight, under the helpful light of a full moon that would hopefully keep them from breaking their neck on the mountain path, would be the night.

They realized they had never been more terrified of anything in their life.

They were so tired. But they could not stay. This couldn't be their life.

The toy the dragon had worked into them in the evening was so large it gave their thinner and thinner belly a bulge. It was unnatural, it was horrible; it was barely visible now, but it would get worse from here on out, they knew it. They were haunted by nightmares in which the dragon had lost its patience and fucked them apart, stabbing right through them, and this? This only gave them more fuel.

The dragon was asleep. It had to be asleep.

Like they had in that first night, they worked the toy out of themself--they couldn't run like this. Like in that first night, it was agonizing.

They felt hollow when they were done, as if the thing had permanently carved them up, left them open to invasion.

They held back sobs, letting their tears fall quietly. Quietly, they put down the toy.

The dragon was asleep. It had to be asleep.

They tried tiptoeing, then found, with all their aches, it was easier to quietly move on all fours, like an animal. What was a little more degradation?

They made it to the lair's entrance.

The dragon was asleep. It had to be asleep.

Before them, the mountainside rolled down, bright ash and smooth coal shining in the moonlight.

If they could make it to the trees below, they could hide. They would be safe.

Their heart was beating so fast and hard it might shatter any moment. For too long, they remained frozen in terror.

Then they escaped.

They wished they could run, but the path was too steep and dangerous for that. Their way down was agonizingly slow, and any moment they feared they would hear the flap of wings. They had to force themself to keep their eyes on the path. If they fell and hurt themself--well, hurt their legs--it would be over.

When they reached the first trees, they could hardly believe it.

They cowered under the thick canopy of an overhanging shrub, pressing themself against its stems. They had made it. They were hidden, they were safe.

Tears burned in their eyes. They would go home.

They gathered themself, and moved to find their way between hte plants.

That was when the stretch of light forest ahead of them burst into flames.

Their hand flew to their mouth to suffocate a scream. The suddenness of the fire left no doubt as to its cause, and now, now they heard the wingbeats. They dragon was circling above.

Smoke filled their nose as they sobbed, barely breathing.

The fire rushed up the slope toward them, and they were left with no choice. Ancient instincts kicked in, and they fled the flames into the open, barren land further up the slope, even as they cried with terror of what they knew they were running into.

They didn't make it more than a few steps into the open before it dove down upon them. Before they could do more than scream, they were grabbed by the ankles and hoisted into the air, the dragon's grip bruising as the earth fell away, away, away.

They screamed as they soared further and further up, from terror and from the pain of being whipped into the air like this.

And then the dragon dropped them.

Time seemed to slow as their mind balanced on the precipice of fainting, and the overwhelming urge to struggle for their life when there was nothing they could do. This was the end-

Then the dragon's claws slammed into their body again, yanking them out of their path to the ground with terrible force. Something cracked in their ribcage. The dragon flipped them around until it had them by the ankles again, and they screamed, they didn't want to fall AGAIN-

The speed and the dark and the terror confounded their senses eonough they didn't know where they were, or where they were going, until they were dropped once more, and this time slammed into the ground after a much shorter fall. Somehow, they managed to cover their head as they rolled over several times. Their whole body most be bruised.

But it was not enough.

The were hit hard in the side, hard enough to fling them against the nearest wall, where they stayed crumpled down, hoping against all hope it was over now-

Something struck them along their whole curled-up body. Then again, and again, over and over until they were screaming, barely managing to intersperse words, "Please" and "Mercy" and "I'm sorry" as if they stood any chance to be heard.

They weren't the awful, but controlled clawstrikers they had suffered before, they realized--the dragon was whipping them with its tail.

And it kept going, until all words had left them, until their voice was hoarse and broken. Each blow slammed them into the rock wall they had collapsed again.

The horrible thought occurred to them the dragon might simply beat them to death.

Eventually, though, it stopped. Every part of them was bruised and battered.

But even that was not enough.

"I was granting you mercy," the dragon growled as they helplessly laid on the ground, sobbing weakly. "But you have lost that privilege."

They had not managed to make sense of the words by the time it grabbed their face, and their yelp was choked off by an object forced into their mouth, forcing their jaws wide--into their throat-

They couldn't even scream as they gagged on it. It was too far in, they had to get it out, their throat was working desperately to expel it, it was all they could do not to throw up--they scrabbled uselessly at their face, the fear of punishment momentarily forgotten over the feeling of suffocating-

The dragon strapped the thing securely in place. They could feel a buckle close too tightly at the back of their head, feel drool already running down their chin. It couldn't stay there, it couldn't stay there-

"Oh, your throat is working. Unlike you when you can get away with it, hm?"

Without further comment on the tears streaming down their face, even on their hand trying to find a way to pull it off their panicked mind couldn't, it pinned them to the ground belly-up once more, and in a moment, they knew what would come next.

This time, they couldn't even scream as their cunt was forced open again, forced to give way to too big an intruder.

They felt a faint spark of gratitude it was still not actually fucking them, and that was almost as bad as the rest of it.

When the toy was shoved in all the way, stretching them past their limits, the dragon flipped them over. They would have screamed again from the way the floor pressed against their bulging belly, pressed against the toy inside them, if only they had a voice. But they were still struggling just to breathe--if only they could beg for mercy, they would do anything, this was worse than everything-

Then their ass was forced open. Another fresh, sharp pain, another intrusion, and they could only cry and cry as the dragon worked yet another toy inside of them, competing for space in their poor abdomen--they could feel it pinch the tissue against the one in their cunt, they couldn't take this it had to go out-

The dragon fixed a chastity belt around their loins. It dug into their nascent bruises, but that wasn't the worst of it.

They couldn't take this-

"There we go. Is this what you wanted, little toy?" The dragon looked down at them, trembling with pain and fear before it, pleading for mercy with their eyes as best as they could.

As if they could ever hope for any.

A terrible grin revealed the dragon's sharp teeth. "You do look lovely, all stuffed like this. I can't wait to watch you clean tomorrow. Now sleep, for however much of the night you've left for yourself."

[cookstorys]

hi I just found your blog and your the only one that I’ve seen that does outerbanks. If it’s not to much trouble could I request a rafe Cameron x sunshine male reader, were he wants to be a better person because the guy he’s crushing on never have up on him.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙼𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝙼𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛

_____________

Character- Rafe Cameron

Show/Movie- Outer Bands

Warning- Rafe being crazy 😝☝🏾, haven’t watch outer banks in a while so I had to remember what I could 🕴🏾, sunshine reader showed a lil dark side at the end😰

Author Notes - Im genuinely so sorry for the long wait, you’ve been waiting so long and you’ve been so extremely patient, thank you! Part 2? 🤭

Females dni

_____________

The time was 2:45 am. Granted the [hair color] haired boy should’ve been in bed enjoying his weekend but when he got a worrying text from his friend he awoke immediately. On your way to his location, you could only imagine what he had gotten into. For all you knew he could’ve killed someone. God, you hoped he didn’t kill anyone.

You slowly pulled up to a boat dock. Putting your car in park your heart almost immediately fell to your stomach. You’re the mayor’s son, alone in the dark, with nothing to protect yourself but a rusty pocket knife. ‘He’s your friend, and you love him’ you mumbled to yourself. After a few more minutes in your car, you nervously got out. Your footsteps were the only thing that could be heard as you hurriedly walked toward the docks.

If there wasn’t a light pole near the end of the dock you wouldn’t have been able to identify Rafe at the end of the dock staring down at his reflection. Slowly walked towards him, not wanting to scare him. Once you’ve beside him you spoke. “It’s pretty nice out huh?” His head snapped to look at you, obviously startled at your presence. “You came?” You chuckled at the dumb question. You gently shoulder-bumped him with a smirk. “What else are friends for.”

His stomach fluttered with butterflies. Friends. He could never quite get used to that word. He huffed out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Do you… do you think I’m a bad person?” Your eyes pulled away from the stars to observe his face. His eyes twinkled with sorrow, and his lips stayed still, as his jawline clenched and tightened. You concentrated your eyes back on the shining moon. “Everyone’s a bad person in some way. Yes, some out-way others. However, no one’s completely a good person. Not to mention what makes someone a bad person?” You could feel his confusing eyes land on your calm persona. “I’m lost.” He replied.

“Think of it like this. Someone who steals is considered a bad person correct? But what if they’re stealing to pay for their mother’s medical bills? Some might say stealing is stealing, he belongs in jail. Others might say he’s stealing for genuine reasoning so it’s ok.” Rafe chuckled at your tiny morale rant. “So, does that mean I’m a bad person?” Rafe asked and for the first time that night, you looked at each other. “You tell me, Rafe, are you?” His eyes purposefully pulled away from yours, clearly trying to not say something.

“I don’t know,” he cried. “I’ve been trying to be a good person to make you happy, but I can’t keep this up.” He burst into tears. You pulled him into one of your amazing hugs, his head rested on your shoulder as he continued to cry. “I almost drowned Sarah [name], my fucking sister. What the fuck is wrong with me.” He sobbed. You tried to keep your calm composure but the newly learned information took you aback but you refused to show it.

You pulled him away from your touch, taking his head between your hands. “You listen to me Rafe Cameron, you are not a bad person. Just someone who’s made mistakes. Now answer me this…is she dead?” You asked shaken up. “No, Topper stopped me before I could do anything more.” He answered finally calming down. “Good, Rafe where is Topper exactly?” Rafe had to think for a second but finally answered. “He should be at his vacation house until his dad’s back from business.” You smiled at this newly learned information, pulling Rafe back into a hug.

“Ok, remember Rafe I’m always here for you.”

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐘 ꒱ 변의주

summary : after a stressful work day, you come home to a sweet date and confession from euijoo

genre : fluff, slight-angst, jpop-idol!ej x afab!reader tws : slight mention of misogyny, minimal angst, language author notes : ej loml word count : 1.4k

you felt a physical ache shooting down your spine, your legs hurting every time they'd press against the pavement. you sighed, shutting the door to your car and going to grab your things from the back. it had been an unusually stress-filled day; multiple people yelling at you and critiquing your dancing skills.

you knew being a choreographer wasn't an easy task, however multiple people—specifically men—would tell you that you weren't meant to be as successful as you were; more than you'd have normally apprehended. they told you that women weren't meant to choreograph men's dances. or that your moves were too promiscuous for them and fans would never appreciate the art because of it.

however, you knew you were good. hell, hybe hired you as a full-time choreographer, it just sometimes gets into your head on bad days such as this.

tears pooled in your eyes, blurring the backseat of the car as your trembling hands fished your bags from the leather. you slung them over your shoulders, grabbing at your keys and locking the door with a couple beeps. you felt tense, almost too much to move quickly, and your stomach churned whatever you had had for breakfast almost twelve hours ago now.

begrudgingly, you entered your apartment building and made your way to the ninth floor. the fluorescent lights mixing with your already blurry eyes made you practically blind as you fought with unlocking the door, your key-jingle echoing throughout the tunnel of a hallway. you swung it inwards to reveal the small mud-room, spotting an unfamiliar pair of nike dunks—too big to be your own—and recognized them as being the only other person who had willing access to your space: euijoo.

you felt a relief form goosebumps over your anxiety-splotched skin and you sighed out shakily. you set your things down and slipped your own shoes off. you didn't even realizing the smell wafting from, you presumed, where your kitchen was as you stepped into a pair of neatly placed slippers. before you had a chance to fully enter your own home, your smiling not-yet-boyfriend was stopping you. he blocked the end of the hall, shielding you from the mess you assumed he had made.

"did you set a fire?" you joked, watching his eyebrows furrow at you. his palms went to your cheeks and you leaned into the touch subconsciously. he examined your skin, shifting your head from side to side without words.

"what?" you asked when he let you go. "do i look funny?"

"not particularly," he stated, making you scoff in his direction as a smile broke out across his lips again. "but, were you crying?"

you didn't think any tears had slipped out of your eyes but you were also too busy noting the pain that coursed through your body to notice the streaks that had painted your cheeks. you knew it was no use to deny what was obvious to him—never being able to slip anything past the man that was oblivious to almost everything but you.

“yeah,” you revealed, a puppy-frown adorning his lips at your words. “it was a stressful day. i’m sorry if you had something planned for us, i’m just really—i don’t know…” your eyes began to well again, forcing the faucet to twist. “upset?”

“it’s okay,” he stated, pulling you into an embrace that warmed you as you cried quietly into his shoulder. “you can tell me it all, and after that we can watch a movie—also, you know i can’t cook to save my life—i bought your favorite pizza.” he pushed you back by your shoulders, grabbing your cheeks and wiping the tears away. "does that sound okay? do you want to do that?"

the gentle aura of euijoo was almost intoxicating—suffocating you in a comfort that had your senses calming down as if he was a sedative.

you could see the stars—scratch that—touch the stars with him. you knew he’d give you anything you could ever dream of. he’d be your night in shinning armor if that’s what he knew you wanted; however he’d settle for being the shoulder you leaned on for comfort, the arms you fell asleep in, the ears that you confided in. he’d settle for anything if it involved you.

he didn’t ever make you feel like your trivial worries weren’t worthwhile, and you knew he wouldn’t even speak over you if you began to rant. so, in the hallway of your apartment, you let the tears and words fall freely. “euijoo, why does working have to be so hard? this industry is so fucking ruthless—i swear i’m just trying so hard to make a living. i have rent due, and i need this dance for enhypen to be perfect otherwise it’ll be problems for me. but i don’t know if i can keep up with this lifestyle anymore. i don’t even know if i want to.” it felt a million times better to finally admit what you’ve been thinking of. “dancing isn’t fun anymore. it’s not the same as when i first started. it’s too much pressure now. i just want it to be enjoyable again. i just want to be happy when i choreograph, but i’m just not, and i don’t know why.”

he kissed the tip of your nose gently, staring with—if you didn’t know any better—love in his eyes. you huffed, feeling an honest bit of irritation rise within you; you didn’t know why he had to be so perfect, standing in your hallway, holding you close, thinking of only you, when there was literally billions of other people on this planet. but you also knew that, despite your self-consciousness, he’d reassure you a thousand times over that you were more than enough to him.

“you… you’re so goddamn perfect,” he put both his hands up defensively. “i don’t even deserve you—to come home to you.”

your wording had made a slight blush creep over his features. he knew what he had planned for your impromptu stay-at-home date, he knew that he desperately wanted what you subconsciously spewed out, he knew that it was becoming irritating not being able to call you his girlfriend when asked what the two of you were.

he never much cared for labels until it came to you. he respected your proclaim to take things slow when you first started whatever this was, but nevertheless he was only human and he thought you two were moving too slow at this point.

he took ahold of your hand, dragging you to the kitchen in an attempt to get you from ranting about how much you cared for him (because it ultimately flustered him.) and, honestly, you were grateful because, from the time you had began work until this exact moment, you hadn’t eaten anything besides some applesauce your grandmother had made and sent you from america.

“babe, the food is getting cold. i know i said i’d listen and then we could eat, but i’m starving—i’ll listen, but i gotta eat before i die.”

you laughed, watching him sit in the chair he self-proclaimed was his, and take a slice for you and himself. sometimes you forgot that he was just a man at the end of the day, a simple creature in its’ purest form, but at least he didn’t forget to feed you.

you took the pizza, putting it down on the plate he’d set up even before you’d gotten home. “it’s okay, i feel better now.”

he looked up through his hunched position, mouth full. “you do?”

“yeah,” you admitted, letting a moment of silence resonate. “you make me feel better so… thank you?”

he giggled, almost shyly, burying his face in the food once again, in an attempt to stop from professing his undying-love for you right now, instead of at the right time.

he finished his pizza as you had just began to eat, a comfortable silence falling over the apartment. he had the same loving look in his eyes, a deep-shade of pink flushing your upper-cheeks. you felt, what seemed like relief in his presence—a calmness that you believed you could never grow tired of. to you, he was perfect. you were convinced you could never see him any other way. he wasn't your boyfriend, but he had already ingrained himself into your personality.

you two complimented each other the way lovers in a fluff-filled romance movie would, the way constellations and wishes did, the way the sun and moon did. you had to practically swallow down the church bells that threatened to ring every time he'd catch your gaze.

all you two had to do was finally make it official, and after the feeling he instilled in you, you thought it couldn’t possibly be as hard as people made it seem. euijoo kept you breathing like he was the air that filled your lungs. the daily-anticipation always filled your heart to the bittersweet brim, only waiting for the day when it would overflow—though, in the past, maybe you were both too shy to ever say anything—but now, you could see the surface tension at its max.

“euijoo?” you asked cautiously, wiping your lips on a napkin as his attention refocused. he hummed sweetly, causing a small chuckle to escape your lips. you both knew that he was lovesick for you, bewitched, head over heels, but neither of you jumped to admit it.

silence took over, your chest caving slightly as you two locked eyes. you swear he could read your thoughts, and you weren't as scared of that as you used to be in past relationships. you wanted him to know everything you thought about him.

“i love you.”

“can i be your boyfriend?”

you spoke over each other, and then neither one of you jumped at the others proclamation, literally too stunned to speak. you just stared at each other like if you looked away the other would disappear.

his eyes grew ten-times their size. “y-you love me?”

however, you had decided to speak against his words once again. “you can be m—you go first, im sorry.”

“i love you, too.” he stated, making your lip pout-out at the way he looked so goddamn adorable. “i wish I would’ve done this sooner, oh my god, i had this whole thing planned out and—“

“it's perfect—you’re perfect. i love you more than the word love could ever insinuate.”

“you can’t ever stop saying that now.” he shook his head like he couldn’t believe it. “seriously? how’d i get so lucky?”

it was rhetorical, though you still felt the desire to refute it. he was mad that he hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend sooner, your claim only making his stomach swarm with butterflies. he was in love with you before he even knew what love for another person was, but now he was convinced it would never feel the same if it wasn't you.

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[paigegonerogue]

Dialogue Styles and The Last of Us

There are many different ways that media handles dialogue, but in my observations they can usually be sorted into three different categories: Poetic, Witty, and Real.

There are more complicated and technical ways to look at it, but most shows have one that is the main “style” of dialogue.

Poetic Dialogue: People talking pretty, basically. It’s unrealistic, but speaking in metaphors or beautiful words can make you cry or give you chills.

Many monologues use poetic dialogue. Think of Luthen’s “revolution” speech in Andor or Silco’s “drowning” speech from Arcane. Period pieces or fantasy media also tend to use poetic dialogue.

Witty Dialogue: Dialogue that’s funny or smart. It’s also unrealistic, but really fun to watch!

Most good comedies most often use witty dialogue, like Community, Arrested Development, and Brooklyn 99. As do dark comedies like Succession or Aaron Sorkin Dialouge like the Social Network (that movie fucks, btw).

Realist Dialogue: Pretty self explanatory. Realistic Dialouge that sounds like how real people talk.

Examples of good realist dialogue include The Bear and Better Call Saul.

(Quick side note: Realist Dialogue isn’t indistinguishable from normal conversation. Usually dialogue and the way people talk is very different. Real dialogue just captures a more natural and raw way of speaking than the other examples.)

So what category does The Last of Us fall into?

Well, here’s the interesting part. I would say that the game and the show fall into different dialogue categories.

I would say that the game falls into the ‘Witty’ dialogue type, while the show falls into the ‘Realist’ dialogue type.

The show also occasionally dabbles in Poetic Dialogue, like Bill’s speech to Frank at the end of ep 3, Joel’s “I’m failin’ her in my sleep’ speech. If you’ve watched Chernobyl you’ll know that mixing real and poetic dialogue is a Craig Mazin specialty.

While both, like most pieces of fiction, have moments of all three (like the show absolutely has witty moments and the game has poetic ones), their main styles are different.

While there are many ways that you can see the differences in dialogue styles, but the starkest contrast is the way Ellie talks.

In the game you can definitely see the Juno-esque origins of Ellie that people have speculated about. She talks with this quickness, even in dramatic moments. She’s always got a quip or a joke or something clever to say (though you see less of it in the final part of the game).

In the show Ellie talks more like a real teenager. She’s clever and a she’s funny, sure, but she also gets flustered or doesn’t know what to say. She says the wrong things or rambles or she blurts stuff out and she sounds young in a way that game Ellie doesn’t.

You can see the difference most clearly in scenes very similar in both the show and the game, like when she shoots the man in Kansas City/Pittsburg, or when she wakes up in David’s cage.

In both these scenes you can definitely see show Ellie a bit more flustered, a bit more scared, and a bit more young.

TLOU HBO was able to use it’s medium to increase the realism of the story (something I’ve talked about before), and a way of doing that is to change how the characters themselves speak.

There are many other examples, but these are definitely some of the clearest.

But while the way they talked changed, the characters stayed quite consistent with only a few very intentional differences, and I think it’s awesome, and a testament to how strong the characters were, and how the writing in the show is that it doesn’t feel too jarring or separate. At the end of the day they’re very different, but both absolutely play to their strengths as a medium and I think that’s pretty cool!

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Afraid

Prompt: You've reached your breaking point and decide to break up with Gibbs. He comes home to find a note from you and tries to change your mind.

Note: So much angst, you might cry. 😭

You walked through the house one more time, remembering all the memories made in each room. The numerous dinners eaten together in the little dining room while talking about each others day. The movies watched late at night in the living room on the outdated tv you aways gave him shit about. And the deep meaningful talks you both had down in the basement as he sanded some piece of wood and shared his expensive Bourbon with you. Memories that didn't happen very much anymore and had been replaced with dinners by yourself and an empty bed as he locked himself away with his tools and alcohol.

You placed your hand written note down on his workbench where you were sure he would see it before picking up the discarded USMC hoodie next to it. Bringing it to your nose, you inhaled the warm musky scent you'd grown to love and closed your eyes, holding back the tears. Taking the hoodie with you, you went back upstairs and put it in the box of your things before carrying it out and placing the spare key under his porch mat, locking the door behind you.

You drove to your own home, an hour an a half away, dropped your box on the floor by your shoes and curled up on your coach, now wearing his hoodie and burying yourself in a thick throw blanket. You turned the tv on to some show but couldn't focus on anything. Consumed by heartbreak, you finally let the tears fall and the sobs rack your body. You cried until your chest and head hurt, the blanket and hoodie sleeves absorbing everything, and your eyes becoming heavy from exhaustion. Only then were you able to give your racing brain a break as you fell asleep.

-----

Your phone ringing woke you up, the living room dark except the light emitting from the tv that was still playing. Looking at your phone screen, you saw Jethro's contact photo and your heart clenched. Wanting nothing more than to hear his voice, but knew if you talked with him, he would convince you to come back, you sent the call to voicemail. A few seconds of silence went by before your screen lit up again.

You declined the call again and threw your hands over your face, trying not to start sobbing again. A minute later a different ping sounded and you brought the phone in view.

Jethro - 1 Voicemail

You unlocked your phone and pressed the play button, listening as Jethro's voice sounded from the other side.

"Y/N....Please just answer my call.."

His voice sounded defeated and tired.

"...Look, I get why you left and I'm sorry...I just can't let this be the last of us...I need you see you. I'm on my way...just please open the door for me."

You looked at the time. 1:22am. You thought about grabbing your car keys and leaving before he got there but where would you go? Just drive aimlessly around until you thought he went back home? You could just ignore him when he knocked at your door, pretending you weren't home. Unless he decided to use his own spare key he had for your place.

You didn't get a chance to make a decision before a soft knock sounded at the door, making you jump. How was he already here? A moment went by and another knock.

Hesitantly, you got up and went over, looking through the peephole and seeing Jethro standing outside, still wearing his work dress shirt, the top few buttons undone and his hair disheveled, telling you he had been anxiously running his hand through it. He went to knock a third time but you opened the door.

He stood there, blue eyes staring at you, pain clearly showing through. You took in not only his appearance that looked like he hadn't slept in weeks, but also the faint smell of whiskey coming from him.

"I made you cry," he stated sadly, reaching his hand out to caress your cheek but you turned away, letting his hand drop to his side.

"Can we talk about this at least?"

You grew irritated at his words, quickly replying, "We have talked about this Jethro. Multiple times. And you shut me out like I'm not important enough to talk to, but you seem to be able to talk with Sloane just fine."

He sighed and rubbed his face, not saying anything. Tears stung at your eyes, knowing his visit was going to be a waste of time and hope.

"Like now. You can't say that you want to talk about it and then clam up. I'm done waiting for you to give me something- anything to work with. Good bye Jethro."

You went to close the door on him but he stopped it with his hand.

"I'm sorry. I know I shut you out. I know I shouldn't. But I'm scared Y/N. I'm scared that if I let you in, really let you in, I'm gonna love you like I loved Shannon. Or more. And then what if something happens? What if I lose you like I lost her? Like I lost Kelly? You saved me from my worst, if I lose you, I wont be able to handle it. I can't go through that again."

A few tears fell from his eyes as he ranted, almost in a panic. You'd never seen this side of him before, so vulnerable, so distraught.

"Being with you has healed that hole in my heart since losing Shannon and Kelly. You've made me feel greater than I've ever felt in so long. You're the reason I wake up and fall asleep with a smile. I don't have anyone like you Y/N. You're my everything. Please don't leave me. Please."

You couldn't stand seeing him in such a state, practically begging you with tears in his eyes. You opened the door and pulled him in, hands cradling his face. His eyes closed at the gesture, tentatively holding you by the waist.

"I know you're scared Jethro. I'm scared too. Every day you put your life in real danger. I've never loved someone as much as I love you and just the thought of losing you breaks me. I'm not as strong as you when you lost the girls. But I'm willing to take the chance, knowing the risk. Because you're worth it. We're worth it. I just need more communication from you. Tell me what you're feeling, what you're going through. Doesn't even have to be all the time, I just need something."

The last part came out as almost a whisper as you pressed your forehead against his, your hands moving to rest on his chest, silence now taking over. He pressed a kiss to your head, and pulled you into a complete embrace.

"Ok."

The two of you stayed like that for minutes, calming your breathing as your tears dried before he pulled back, wiping your cheeks. You did the same for him and gave him a small smile, getting one in return.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, voice hoarse with emotion. You found it endearing hearing him ask for permission.

"Please."

He brought you in close, kissing your lips firmly, as if it was the last kiss he'd get from you. You sighed into it, a wave of relief washing over you that the fight was finally over with.

When you two pulled back, he looked over at your makeshift bed on the couch before back at you.

"Is there room for one more over there?"

Instead of answering, you took his hand and led him over, waiting for him to take off his shoes and lie down first before settling in next to him, fitting perfectly in his arms as the tv continued playing. You felt a deep sigh escape him as his body relaxed. It wasn't long before the both of you were fast asleep, holding onto each other tightly.

[dc418writes]

Before It’s Too Late

✨Pairing: Andy Barberxblack!reader

Summary🪄: Andy gets a special visitor to help remind him what’s important

⚠️: a good amount of angst in this one, allusion to divorce, couple bad language words, ends in fluff tho (bcus I’m soft and it’s the holidays☺️)

A/N🎙️: hey guys! Hope you like this idea I had based on a Christmas Carol. Also this is an au where Laurie and Jacob don’t exist

*Disclaimer!: although collage was made by me, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found on Pinterest

Looking down at his watch, the ticking face reads 11:01 pm as Andy locks the door behind him and the security system later beeps from its activation. The bottoms of his dress shoes tap along the wooden floor stepping further into the dimly lit home unsurprised to find it quiet and seemingly empty.

It’s a greeting he’d grown accustomed to these last few months having worked constant late nights that sometimes ran into early mornings.

“Left a plate for you in the fridge if you’re hungry. Hope you had a good day ~Love, Y/N” The note read resting in front of his usual seat at the head of the table; sending a pang of guilt to his heart. If he had a choice of course he’d want to be home with his family being able to eat and laugh together.

But as the District Attorney, his work was never really done until the case was closed, which could take months to years. Plus this job made it possible to provide for his family, the most important thing to him.

Slowly climbing the stairs to avoid its loud creaks, he first stops at his daughter’s door gently pushing it open to check on her as he always did when arriving home late. Finding her bed made and untouched only means she’s next to you in their bedroom; more than likely on his side to “protect” you from any monsters hiding in the closet or under the bed.

“Daddy don’t worry, I watch over mama,” Marlow would state confidently whenever he’d call saying how he wouldn’t be home until late that night. Each time his lips would curl into a soft smile at how thoughtful she was already before thanking her for taking such good care of you.

The light from the tv flickers along the room with the screen still playing some animated movie. Both you and Marlow fast asleep as you snuggled close with arms wrapped around each other. Her little Starry Night flashlight on the bedside table making him quietly chuckle as he steps closer to place a kiss on her curly head then yours.

“You’re home,” you tiredly whisper beginning to stir with barely open lids.

“Yea, I see you two had a sleepover.”

You turn to gaze at your baby with a sleepy giggle, “She tried waiting up for you, but didn’t make it 30 minutes. Let me put her to bed-,”

“No you two stay. I still have work to do.”

“Andy it’s nearly-,” you carefully shift to look at your phone, “one in the morning and you’re still doing work? Just save it for later and come to bed.”

“Honey this is a big case. The more I work the sooner we’ll get done.”

That was a lie. If that did happen, you knew he’d only find something else that needed to be done. Or more evidence would somehow be found that either added to, or discredited, his argument thus leading to more work.

“Andy, you’ve been working on this case non-stop for over a year. If that really were the case, I’m sure you’d be done by now,” you sigh.

“Y/N-,”

“I’ll see you in the morning. Unless you leave before we get up. Again.” He doesn’t get the chance to say anything more as you turn your back to him; choosing instead to face your still baby girl peacefully resting all this time.

Sighing, he places a final kiss to the back of your head with a quiet, “Goodnight,” before he’s quietly leaving again to return downstairs to his office. And you’re left alone for yet another night, silently crying yourself to sleep worried about the future for you and your husband.

-

With a low groan, Andy lifts his head from the desk combing his fingers through his unruly hair. A yawn slipping past his lips as he tries to stretch the kinks and cramps from his back. He had every intention of coming to bed, but he’d found a hole in the plaintiff’s argument that’d surely help them come one step closer to a possible close.

That hot streak led to three more hours of typing before he finally crashed while reading over his work. Uncomfortably so as he rubs at the knot sitting at the base of his neck.

There’s a giggle outside his door followed by little Marlow popping her head of wild curls in with a wide smile on her lips. The room brightening with her cheery entrance as usual. “Hi daddy!”

“Morning busy bee,” he smiles opening his arms so she’d join him in his chair. Her small arms linking around his neck to kiss his cheek as he holds her close. “Good job looking after everything last night.”

“Monsters stayed away. I had my flashlight.”

“Morning Andy,” you softly smile entering with his favorite mug. “Marlie made you coffee.”

“Thank you sweetheart. Daddy really needed this after the night he had.”

“Later, we make cookies for my play. Right daddy?”

“Wait, tonight? I thought that was this weekend?”

“Nope, tonight. I reminded you yesterday on your lunch,” you sigh sitting on the edge of his desk with arms crossed in front of you. You already knew where this conversation was going from the remorse in his cerulean eyes.

“Sweetheart I’m so sorry, but I’m not gonna be able to make it. I’ll be downtown.”

“But…you promised.”

“I know I did-,”

“You never break promises daddy!,” she pouts with big brown eyes glossy from incoming tears.

“Well sometimes-,”

“You lied!”

“Marlow enough, alright?! I have to work, there’s nothing I can do to change that. Mama will be there to record it and I’ll watch it with you later,” he sternly replies further upsetting the five-year-old. She quickly wiggles out of his grasp and down to the floor now reaching out for you and your comfort.

“Y/N don’t. I’m not in the mood for I told you so.”

“You can’t even give us one day Andy? One?!” For the sake of your daughter, you try to keep your voice calm when everything in you was currently ready to erupt.

“Whadaya want me to do honey, hm? Quit?,” he asks tossing aside some folder filled with papers. “Fine. I’ll quit and everything I’ve worked for; this house, our comfortable life where neither of you want for anything, that’ll disappear too.”

“We want you! Your daughter wants her father as more than a glimpse she’s lucky to see everyday, and I want my husband back.” Frustrated tears burn your eyes before rolling down your cheeks as you gently rock your daughter hiding her face in your neck. “If all we really cared about was the material stuff, we wouldn’t be having this conversation for the millionth time.”

Guilt eats away at him once more silently watching the both of you leave his office. He desperately missed his girls too. Coming home to his energetic baby girl excited to tell him about her day or play dress up. Your vanilla and caramel scent latching to his nostrils anytime he’d steal a kiss from your soft lips. Lying next to you with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as if you’d easily vanish if he let go.

But this job required a lot of his time. It was something he and you knew from the beginning, even when he was still just a practicing lawyer in that small law firm. What could he really do about it?

“Honey,” he calls rising from his chair to follow your trail. “Honey wai-,”

Stepping in the hall, the once warm and furnished home is now dark and somber. The walls bare of the framed pictures you’d taken over the years and air cool from the draft circulating through the empty abode. His thick brows furrow as he hurries through the house once his, opening all doors in a frenzy trying to find his family. “Y/N?! Marlie?!”

“They’re gone Andrew,” a voice booms from overhead causing the attorney to twist about while looking towards the ceiling.

“W-Who said that? Where’s my family?!”

“Relax they’re fine. Honestly much better now you’re not there.”

“I’m only givin’ you one more chance. Show yourself and bring my girls back now!”

“Well, I can’t really do either of those seeing as I’m a ghost and need to teach you a lesson before I send you back.”

“A ghost..,” Andy repeats full of amusement with hands on his hips. “Mhm right. Marlow Anais Barber no more games alright? You got me, now come out with mama.”

“Andy I’m telling you, they’re not here. You’re about to lose your family and I’m here to help.”

“How when I can’t even see you? And what are you? My guardian angel or something?”

“No, and with that attitude I’m glad I’m not,” the voice replies making him glare at the ceiling. “They’re only called for life or death situations. I’m just your standard spirit guide.”

“This is clearly a stress dream,” he mumbles to himself beginning to pace the floor. “I haven’t slept well for pretty much the whole year and now it’s getting to me. Yea that’s it.”

“Alright I see you’re just set on being difficult, so let’s begin.” Mouth set with his reply, the words immediately escape him being whisked through what felt like a tornado. Wind taking his breath as he tried to scream until his feet were back on the ground.

“What..t-the hell..was that?!,” he asks clutching his chest trying to regain his normal breathing and heart rate.

“Us traveling through time. Now hush and pay attention.” It finally registers that he’s outside his home partially decorated with Christmas lights and figurines. The ladder securely placed against the house as past him stapled the string of lights just above the gutters.

“This was years ago. Our first time decorating the house,” Andy softly smiles watching his former self carefully climb the ladder to stand on the roof instead. “Y/N said I was overdoing it, but I wanted everything to be perfect for-,”

“Let’s go check on daddy yea?,” he hears past you say to a then one-year-old Marlow tightly bundled in your arms as you walk out the front door. “Andrew Stephen Barber? Please tell me you’re still alive.”

“I am honey,” he chuckles pausing to look down at you. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

“Accidents happen. Did you know the holidays are the busiest time of year for hospitals?”

“I did not.”

“Well they are. So please be careful and refrain from making me a widowed, single mother anytime soon.”

“I promise you I’ll make it back inside, just like I promised my busy bee she’d have her own, personal Christmas Wonderland. Yes I did,” he coos down at the giggling, wide eyed little girl. “And daddy always keeps his promises.”

“Aww,” the spirit states from overhead. “What happened to you Andrew?”

“What do you mean? I’m still that guy.”

“Rigghhtt. And who was on the roof this year? And last year?”

“Alright, I’ve been busy,” he admits scratching the back of his neck. “This is a huge case that’s taken longer than expected so I haven’t had time like back then. That Christmas was during a…kinda dead period. Before my DA campaign. Then my ultimate acceptance. Things won’t always be like they are now though.”

“Yea, long as you get your priorities straight.”

He scoffs, “My priorities are straight.”

The winds of the tornado gather and build again, causing Andy to tense and brace for how his body would be tossed from here to there. It’s much smoother this time though, and he feels like he’s simply floating in the clouds before being gently placed on a carpeted floor.

“Hey, I uh think I’m getting used to-wait…could you have done that the first time?!”

“…you really need to relax before you give yourself an aneurysm Andrew.”

Rolling his eyes, he turns recognizing some pieces of furniture in the condo. His infamous chair he’s had since before he was married. That floor lamp he bought thinking it added sophistication to his place, but really didn’t look right with anything he had.

This wasn’t his old apartment though. He could tell from the pictures of Marlow on the bookcase and the impressive flatscreen mounted on his wall.

“Where are we?”

“The future. Since your priorities are so straight.”

A knock on the front door nearly has him moving to answer, if not for the startling shout of “coming!,” from the older man making his way down the hall.

Disheveled gray hair on his head and throughout his beard, he had to be in his mid to late 50s. Maybe early 60s even. He looked good for his age though, still able to move around well with arms and legs that still showed some of the strength from his youth. But the energy around him conveyed sadness. Flickers of loneliness and pain in the dull neutrals and silence throughout the modern residence.

“It..it’s me,” he whispers in shock sitting in the nearby barstool as he watches his older self finally open the door with you waiting on the other side. You still looked the same, just as beautiful as the day you first met and seeming to have only aged a couple years compared to him. Your eyes weren’t as bright though. No longer filled with that happiness usually there whenever you’d look at him.

“Andy,” you politely nod. “I um honestly didn’t expect you to be home.”

“Thought I’d take Christmas off for once.”

“I’ve been working Christmas all those years?,” he wonders to himself.

“Maybe even spend some time with busy bee,” he lightly chortles ushering you in before locking the door.

“She’s actually staying with her friends in LA this year. Last time we talked, she mentioned possibly making it for New Years, but knowing her she’ll probably just hang out there. Get some more work done with her internship.”

“Oh..r-right. Good for her,” he painfully smiles moving towards the kitchen.

“Plus you know holidays haven’t really been her thing since we-,”

“Yea I know. Not like I made things any better after either, always missing pick ups or our scheduled days together.”

“Yep..A1 priorities.” The spirit’s sarcastic tone doesn’t phase Andy, being more focused on the conversation in front of him.

“What’s that?,” he asks taking a break from making his PB&J to point the butterknife towards the bag in your hands.

“Oh, your Christmas present from me, Marlow, and Curtis.”

“Curtis? Who’s Curtis?”

“Dreamy blue eyes. Body of an Adonis. Bit rough around the edges but so incredibly sweet and caring-,”

“That’s not answering my question alleged spirit guide.”

“How’s he doing? Well both of you..y-you guys I mean,” he stutters going back to his sandwich.

“Good. He surprised me with a fire pit in the backyard and tickets to Fiji,” you softly smile.

“Hm,” he nods thoughtfully taking a bite.

“She always talked about wanting a fire pit in the back. Right off to the side far enough back that Marlie would have enough room to play without the risk of her getting hurt.”

“If only you were the one to get it for her,” the spirit tsk’s.

“Sure those tickets are to Fiji and not Fuji?”

“Andy don’t.”

“I’m just looking out for you,” he replies briefly holding up his hands. “Didn’t know a handyman’s salary allowed for exotic trips.”

“It does when he has his own business, and has had said business for a few years now. I swear it’s like you’re always trying to find something on him.”

“Because I barely know him! One minute it’s just you and Marlow, next thing I know you’re getting married and he’s moving in!”

“I tried to get you to meet him multiple times! But it was always the same, ‘I’m working.’ ‘Can’t I’m in a meeting.’ ‘Out of town with a witness.’ You just never wanted to meet him and, don’t pretend like it’s anything else.”

“Excuse me for not trusting some random guy to play father with my child!”

“Maybe he wouldn’t have to if you stepped up!,” you shout surely loud enough his neighbors would hear.

Andy himself felt that hit to his gut. Or maybe it was some joint reaction between him and his future self.

Sighing, you quickly wipe under your eyes catching any tears before they had a chance to fall. “Andy I didn’t come here to argue. It’s the holidays and-,”

“No I’m sorry. You’re right..I was a shit husband and turned into a shit father who only thought about the next case,” he humorlessly chuckles. “No wonder Marlow buries herself in work. Seems to not want anything to do with her family. She learned from her old man.”

“Why are you showing me this?,” Andy asks with a quick sniff; wiping away his own set of tears. He didn’t know when he started crying, but it seemed as if they’d never stop falling. “I’d never do that to them.”

“You’re already doing it Andrew. The late nights at the office and broken promises. If you continue down that path, this is your future.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Good, then fix it.”

-

Opening his eyes, he’s surrounded by the darkness of his home office making him breathe a sigh of relief as he sits upright on his couch. Your voice instructing Marlow to be careful when removing the cookies only causes his smile to widen, nearly slipping as he rushes towards the kitchen to see his favorite girls.

“Daddy!,” Marlow waves with her free hand. Her giggles and shrieks filling the two-story home as he picks her up to cover her face in kisses. “Beard tickles daddy!”

“I thought you were at work? You’ve been in the office this whole time?”

His only answer is to press his lips to yours with all the passion and love he’s neglected from you. Gently nipping at your bottom lip before going in for round two, you have to clutch his shirt to keep from buckling.

Marlow silently giggles occasionally peeking through her fingers covering her eyes.

“Y/N I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he sniffs pressing his forehead to yours. “For putting my job before our family. For treating both of you the way I did. I swear I’ll be better just please don’t give up on me.”

“I appreciate that Andy, but are you okay? You sound kinda mad baby.” His eyes sparkling and skin having a joyous glow, you hadn’t seen your husband like this in a long while.

“I’m good honey. So good,” he smiles pecking your lips once more. “And I’m home the rest of the month. No more case or late nights, it’s only you two.”

“You’re coming to the play daddy?!,” his daughter excitedly bounces in his arm.

“Yep! And tomorrow we gotta go pick out mama’s Christmas present,” he winks at you.

“Andy wait, can you do that? I mean of course we want you home, but-,”

“I’ll email Phillips and the rest of the team to let them know I need a break. They’ll be fine, plus the interns are there.”

“What if it’s not?”

“Then tough. It’s almost Christmas and I need to be with my family.”

You can only lovingly gaze at Andy as he talks more to Marlow about what all they can do during his break. The little girl growing more excited with every idea he suggests and you silently thankful for your Christmas miracle.

“What’s got you like this?,” you ask tightening your hold around his waist. Your chin propped on his firm chest with a giddy smile on your lips.

“A very needed wake up call,” he smiles pecking your nose before moving to the top of his baby girl’s head.

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[satelliteddie]

you can let it go (matilda) - s.h.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader (ft. the kids!)

summary: steve struggles to acknowledge his found family when his biological family is so disjointed

content warnings: absent parental figures, suppressed trauma, shitty family lives, found family

word count: 4.7k

author’s notes: okay so hear me out, in this fic everyone is okay and S4 pt. 2 just did not happen the way it did….let them all be alive and healthy, okay???? also: steve finally has the cry of the century…. But he's earned it.

You were riding your bike to the sound of "It's No Big Deal"

And you're trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels

Nothing about the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming 'til now

So you tie up your hair and you smile like it's no big deal

Even if you paid him, Steve would still not be able to tell you who taught him how to ride a bike. He was pretty sure it was his mother… He thinks so. Although it could have been some distant relative at a family party years ago; however, the last time the Harrington’s had one of those Steve was under the age of ten. So remembering who taught him how to ride a bicycle was a long gone memory. As Max glides by on her small skateboard, Steve wonders who taught her how to skate. Did they make her wear a helmet? Did she have someone to hold her up? Did she ever fall so hard the wind got knocked out of her? Max dips into the Harrington’s drained pool and attempts some trick Steve can never remember the name of. He holds his breath the entire time Max is on the board, worried about every turn she takes. Steve shakes his head at the sound of your voice from the back door, “C’mon all of you! Inside! I’m starting the movie with or without you!”

Steve stands from the lounge chair near the edge of the empty pool, his eyes still lingering on Max. She kicks up the end of her skateboard and catches Steve’s eyes, “you okay?” Steve offers Max a small smile and nod which Max in no way believes, but she continues into the house pulling Lucas and Eleven with her. Dustin, Mike and Will are not far behind, arguing over whether or not Eddie would let Will into Hellfire next week (Dustin swears he would, but Mike isn’t convinced….Steve knows Dustin’s right, but keeps that to himself). Steve watches all of them pile into his house with you ruffling their hair as they pass you. You turn your head to him, tilting it as you watch Steve. He still stands next to the lounge chair, just staring off into the house. You step outside and shut the door behind you, quickly you walk across the backyard to meet Steve by the pool. When you approach, his eyes flick back to meet you as he blinks away his thoughts.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” Your hand rubs his forearms that remain at his side.

“I- uh, nothing. Nothing. I’m fine,” Steve shakes his head, his words jumbled in a laugh. “I’m fine.” He brings his arms up to wrap them around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest. Steve rests his chin on the top of your head momentarily before he turns his face down to press a kiss to your hair.

“You don’t have to be fine all the time, Steve.” You mumble into his chest, but Steve doesn’t respond, he only holds you tighter. You inhale his scent, rubbing your hands up and down his back. His muscles release their tension under your touch, and Steve wishes he could stay here forever. “Steve,” you pull your head back to look directly at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“It’s no big deal, honest.” He pulls his right hand to place it between you, his pinky lifted in the air. “I promise.”

You shake your head at him, giggles leaving your lips. You loop your hand around to meet your pinky with his. Steve links your fingers together and brings the jointed hands to his mouth. He presses several kisses on the back of your hand, flashing a smile in your direction. It’s not a Steve smile that you’re used to; it’s a forced smile to try to comfort you. It doesn’t reach his eyes, light up his whole face, or even create a dimple in his cheek. It’s just a fake smile to try to get you to stop worrying about him…which worries you even more.

“C’mon,” Steve releases your pinky and brushes your hair behind your ear. “The kids are waiting.”

You can let it go

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

And not invite your family, 'cause they never showed you love

You don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up

The living room is covered with empty chip bags, crushed soda cans, and extremely sleepy preteens. Dustin, Mike, Will and Lucas have taken the floor, spreading their limbs across two open sleeping bags and countless blankets. Max and El lay on opposite ends of the couch, their legs tossed over each other. Steve watched over them all with kind eyes, his mind racing with more ideas on how to make them comfortable at his house. He leans his head against the recliner, watching as you open one last blanket and lay it over Eleven. The kids slowly fell asleep at different times during the movie, all of them completely exhausted from school and fighting monsters constantly…but here? Here they’re safe, comfortable, and happy. Steve makes sure of it. After setting the blanket down, you carefully step around Dustin on the floor to reach Steve. You lean down and place a kiss on his forehead, “let’s go to bed”. Steve glances around to take another headcount of the little ones. Henderson, Sinclair, Wheeler, Byers, El, and Max. “They’re all here,” you smile down at him. You squat down to meet his eyes, “they’re safe. We’re still going to be here, but you deserve to sleep in your bed. Not in a chair.” Steve reluctantly nods, knowing you’re right and stands up from the recliner quietly. He steps over all of the kids and counts them all once more before following you upstairs.

[Steve], you talk of the pain like it's all alright

But I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead inside

You showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days

It's none of my business, but it's just been on my mind

Steve leans against the sink as he brushes his teeth, watching you intently through the mirror. You comb your hair with your fingers, humming along to the theme song from the movie you just watched. Standing here, in his shirt, Steve feels his heart swell watching you do the most normal things. He’s so head over heels in love with you that anything and everything you do is the most interesting thing he’s seen all day. You feel his stare and you look up at him through the bathroom mirror. You offer him a small smile, which he returns (the toothbrush still hanging from his mouth). Steve leans down, turning the water back on to rinse his mouth and toss the toothbrush aside. You step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek to his bicep. You turn to kiss his arm, looking at him again in the mirror, but he’s already looking down at you. “I love you,” Steve mumbles, his eyes scanning over every feature on your face. You tilt your chin up to him as he leans down to kiss your mouth. Steve sighs in the kiss, relief and love literally pouring out of him. You pull away from his mouth with a smile that consumes your features, “I love you more”. He still only offers you a sweet (but forced) smile. Running a hand down his arm, you link your hand with Steve’s and pull him out of the bathroom and to his bedroom.

The bedside lamp is the only light on in the room, the small light barely illuminating the walls. Steve shuffles around to his side of the bed, pulling his shirt over his head and leaving it somewhere on the carpet. You crawl under the covers on your side just as Steve does the same on his. You open your arms, inviting Steve into them and he wastes no time to press his body to yours. You lay on your back, left arm tucked under Steve’s body as his chest is pressed to yours. Your right hand runs over his shoulder blades and down his back, humming peacefully. Steve is still admiring you as he rests his chin on your ribs, but you can tell his mind isn’t here. You move your hand from his back and trace your fingers over his cheeks to rest your hand on his jaw. “Steve,” you whisper, moving your thumb over his skin. He blinks and averts his attention back to you. “Where’d you just go?”

“Nowhere,” he glances down. “I’m here with you.”

“No you’re not. You’ve been lost all night,” you frown at him. “Did something happen?” You ask, still moving your thumb across his jaw.

“No, no,” his worry comes across in his words. “I just, I was thinking about my parents tonight.”

“Did they call?” You ask and Steve sarcastically laughs at your innocence.

“No baby,” he takes his left hand to smooth out the frown lines between your eyebrows. “They never call.”

“I’m sorry,” you trace his jaw into his hairline, massaging his neck gently.

“It’s not your fault. Hell, if I didn’t have you I don’t know what I’d do,” Steve confesses. “They’re just so,” he groans. “They’re so shitty. I nearly died, several times, last year and they didn’t even notice.” His eyes are glossy, but he shakes his head trying to suppress the tears. Steve moves his face away from yours again, because he’s positive if he looks at you again he’ll break. Steve lays his head down, resting his cheek on your chest; you keep your hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. Releasing a deep sigh, you lean up just enough to kiss Steve’s forehead. He glances up at you through his thick eyelashes, his hazel eyes watery. “Steve, you deserve better than them. I’m so sorry,” you whisper against his skin.

You can let it go

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

And not invite your family, 'cause they never showed you love

You don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up

Your words hang in the air for just a second before you hear Steve sniffle against your chest. Turning your head you try to look directly at him, but he hides his face even further into you. You feel your shirt slowly getting wetter as if raindrops had splashed onto it. “Steve,” you try to move his face away so you can see him. “Baby?”

“I’m so— fuck. I’m so sorry,” Steve sits up and off of you quickly. Steve clumsily moves himself to lean against the headboard; he wipes his hands over his face trying to hide his tears from you. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get them to stop falling. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this,” he hiccups in between rubbing his eyes. You pull yourself up and reach out to pull his hands away from his face. The tears still run down his face, his cheeks are flushed and his chest is tense. You swipe your thumbs under his eyes gently, catching any more tears; keeping your hands on his cheeks, you tilt his face up so he looks directly at you. “You don’t have to be sorry. Don’t ever apologize,” you whisper. “I’m here, Steve. Stop trying to hold onto all of it. You can let it go.”

This breaks him. Steve’s head swirls from your words and the floodgates open before he’s even given them permission. A sob wrecks its way out of his chest, Steve bends his neck curling into himself as he cries. You wrap your arms around his arm, resting a soft cheek on his shoulder. Steve has no control of his emotions anymore, he’s lost all awareness of how to stop his tears. He wants to scream and curse at the top of his lungs, not just about his parents… but about everything. His mind is one big mess and it has been for years. Steve worries he’s scaring you, but when he blinks away his tears just for a moment he’s relieved. You’re still curled up next to him, arms linked as you press kisses to his shoulder repeatedly. He hears you murmur: “it’s okay” and “I’ve got you” in between kisses. Steve runs his hands over his face once more before holding onto your head. His fingers smooth out your hair at the crown of your head. You tilt your chin up to him as you climb in front of him. Steve immediately pulls you into his chest, needing nothing more than to hold you. You wrap your arms around his torso as he slides down onto his pillow. Both of your limbs have tangled in one another as you lay on the bed. Silent tears still flow down Steve’s cheeks, splashing onto the sheets. No words are exchanged between the two of you, but it’s all that Steve needs. An occasional sob builds up in his chest every few minutes and you let him release it without judgment. You stroke your hand over his chest pressing kisses to any part of him that you can. Steve pulls in a deep breath and tries to level out his breathing, but fails. You frown as you watch his face crumble again under his emotions. Steve turns away from you, giving you his back trying to hide himself again. He’s beyond embarrassed that he’s fallen apart like this in front of you. Steve doesn’t even cry when he’s alone, but he’s just too exhausted to hold it in anymore. Steve has always had a rough home life with his parents, tonight was just the final straw that broke him. Seeing the kids in his house and caring for them so much makes him wonder how his parents could be so clueless. His parents always treated him as another one of their responsibilities on a check list, never a living breathing son who just wanted their affection. “Steve,” you place a soft hand on his back. Your fingers hold his shoulder as you turn him to face you. Again, you find yourself wiping away his tears as he cries. You run your fingers through his hair and place his head on your chest; Steve grips your shirt desperate to get his sobs to stop coming. “I got you,” you hold him as close to you as you possibly can.

You can see the world, following the seasons

Anywhere you go, you don't need a reason

Cause they never showed you love

You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

Steve’s cries have subsided, but he still clings to you like you’re the only thing keeping him here– which Steve is convinced you might be. Steve lifts his head from your shirt, now saturated in his tears, and he nuzzles his face into your neck. “Thank you,” Steve whispers against your skin. You brush your hand over the back of his head. Steve lifts his face again, his eyes flicking down to your lips momentarily before he leans down. His soft mouth melts into yours effortlessly. His skin and lips are sticky from dried tears; his mouth tastes like mint as he sucks your bottom lip. Steve releases it carefully before he places one more kiss on your mouth. He trails his lips over your face which causes you to giggle as his stubble ghosts your skin. Steve cocks his head at you with a raised eyebrow. “It tickles,” you grin, your fingers scratching over his slight facial hair. Steve smiles slightly, kissing the inside of your palm near his cheeks. He sighs and leans down again, “thank you for being here.”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” you tell him. Every fiber of your being means every word.

“Nowhere else?” Steve tilts his head in disbelief. “You wouldn’t rather be in, I don’t know Europe? Australia? California?”

“Are you going to be with me?” You ask, your fingers finding their place in his hair again.

“Of course,” Steve smiles. This time it’s almost a classic Steve smile; the creases in his cheeks appear and his eyes crinkle slightly, but it’s not a full Steve-smile yet.

“Then it doesn’t matter where we are. As long as you’re with me,” you brush a stray curl away from his forehead. “We can see the world.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s eyes scan your features. He needs this to be true.

“Yeah,” you trace shapes onto the skin of his arms. “We could follow the seasons, see them in different places. Soon the kids will be all grown up and they won’t need us. We can go anywhere, we don’t need a reason.”

“I would hate to leave them,” Steve admits. “But I know I don’t have to be sorry for doing it on my own.”

“You won’t be leaving them. You’d be doing what is best for you. You’ve earned that.” Steve nods in agreement as he leans down to kiss you again.

You're just in time, make your tea and your toast

You framed all your posters and dyed your clothes, ooh

You don't have to go, you don't have to go home

Oh, there's a long way to go

I don't believe that time will change your mind

In other words… I know they won't hurt you anymore as long as you can let them go

The sun rises slowly, its rays breaking through Steve’s windows. He groans as the light pours into his room causing him to stir in his sleep. Steve tosses an arm over you, pulling you to his chest again. Even in a deep sleep, you sigh happily as your bodies tangle together. Steve presses a sleepy kiss to your temple while closing his eyes and taking in your scent. You smell like vanilla, honey, and home. Steve can’t help but continue to pepper kisses across your hairline. You turn in his arms to face him as you fully wake up. Rubbing your eyes, you blink up at Steve, “morning handsome.”

Steve groans, his eyes still shut but his lips still tracing your face. “I don’t want to get up,” he mumbles.

You run a gentle finger over his features; his cheeks are soft and imprinted with marks from the sheet, his lips are as perfect as ever, but his eyes are puffy and look like they would burn when opened. You frown as you tilt Steve’s head down to meet yours. You press featherlight kisses to both of his eyelids, Steve’s hands grip your sides even tighter as you kiss them. He blinks slowly as you back away from his face, his hazel eyes squinting in a small smile. “Do we have to leave this bed? Can't we just stay here?” Steve asks before shutting his eyes again and flopping over to lay on top of you. You wrap your arms around him, loving how his weight feels on you. It’s like a security blanket.

“We could, but we have 6 always-hungry teens downstairs right now. I should work on making them breakfast,” you sigh. Steve leans up and brushes your hair from your face.

“You’re too nice to them,” Steve whispers. “They can fend for themselves and make cereal.”

“Oh really?” You raise an eyebrow at him, “who invited them to a movie night and sleepover at their house?? Mm?”

“I don’t remember,” Steve mumbles, a blush covering his cheeks. You playfully roll your eyes at him and slide out from under his weight. Standing from the bed, you grab one of Steve’s sweatshirts from his closet while Steve throws on a tee shirt and sweatpants. Steve presses one last kiss to your head before the two of you leave the room. You’re only a few feet outside of Steve’s room when you hear whisper-yelling from downstairs. “Shh!” Max’s voice carries through the house, “you’re going to wake them before we’re ready.”

“Who cares, they have to get up anyway.” Mike responds.

“Mike,” El warns and you can only imagine the glare she shoots at him. Steve turns to you with curious eyes, his eyebrows furrowed as he listens to their conversation.

“Where does he keep the syrup if it’s not in the cabinet?” Dustin asks, “Jesus Chr- it’s in the fridge? That’s a crime.”

You giggle in agreement with Dustin and Steve narrows his eyes at you. “It’s better that way,” Steve mumbles as he takes your hand. The two of you step downstairs and peer into the kitchen. The long, wooden dining table is covered in all sorts of breakfast materials. Eight plates are placed along the edges of the table with utensils and cups. There’s a stack of toast in the center of the table with an entire stick of butter melting next to it. Steve is convinced the kids toasted a whole loaf of bread, but he doesn’t mind. His eyes scan over the kitchen to find the kids all focused on the task at hand. Max is flipping pancakes on the stove top, with Eleven holding a plate for her to drop them onto. Lucas and Will are focused on how to work the coffee machine; both of their faces scrunched up in confusion as they stare at all of the buttons. Leaving Mike and Dustin to dig through the cabinets for syrups, seasonings, and other dishes. You and Steve stand next to one another as you watch the scene unfold before you; neither of you know what to say or why the kids decided to make breakfast. They’ve never attempted anything like this before on the multiple movie nights they’ve had. Steve’s eyes race all around the room, he tries not to intervene when he thinks Max is too close to the stove. You rub your thumb over his hand and give him a small nod. Steve steps fully into the kitchen causing the titles to creak under his weight. Dustin is the first to notice your entrance, giving you a wide-toothy grin. The girls turn around next, but Max is the first to talk:

“Hey, you’re just in time!” She smiles gently, flipping a pancake in the pan in front of her. “We’re making you breakfast. Make your tea or coffee, whichever you want. Oh! And your toast!”

Steve feels his chest begin to swell again and his eyes are heavy. He’s overwhelmed with this feeling of home and family. He can only imagine what it would be like to have a real family of his own. Will my kids make me breakfast like this? He wonders as he sits at the dining table. Would they do it for Fathers Day? Christmas? Thanksgiving? His brain races as he watches the kids finish each of their tasks before taking seats at the table.

“Go,” Eleven offers a stack of pancakes. “Eat!”

You can let it go

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

You can start a family who will always show you love

You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

You can let it go

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

You can start a family who will always show you love

You don't have to be sorry, no

Everyone devours their breakfast as you all sit around the large kitchen table. Dustin and Steve argue over whether or not pancakes or waffles are better, which divides the table. Steve, Eleven, Mike, and Will are team waffles; leaving you, Dustin, Lucas, and Max on team pancakes. Max nudges your shoulder as the boys continue to bicker about breakfast foods. Her eyes scan over Steve who sits next to you at the end of the table. “Is he okay?” She whispers, “I worry about him.”

“Me too,” you reply with a frown. “I think he’s okay now, but we’ll all be here if he isn’t.”

“He’s lucky to have you— I mean we all are lucky to have you,” Max smiles. “I just wanted to help him,” she glances around the table. Empty plates and sticky syrup coat the table top, leftover toast and pancakes still in the center. “My mom always made me breakfast when I wasn’t feeling the best and I thought it might help him. I could tell he just wasn’t right yesterday,” she pushes around a strip of bacon on her plate. “He just kept looking at me like I was going to, I don’t know—”

“Disappear?”

“Yeah,” Max nods. “He’s good. We can’t let this place ruin him. We’re his family now—”

“Henderson, I don’t know what is so hard to understand!” Steve interrupts. “Waffles hold the syrup. That’s the point of the hole-things!”

“Hole-things? Seriously,” Dustin rolls his eyes. “Can you talk some sense into your boyfriend please,” Dustin asks you, waving a flippant hand at Steve. Steve lays a hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb over your soft skin. He smiles at you quickly before you speak up, “Dustin, I’ve tried. He’s helpless when it comes to his breakfast opinions. First cold syrup—”

“Jesus Christ, I forgot about the syrup!”

-✩-

The dishes pile up in the sink, but Steve doesn’t care. He lets all of the kids toss their plates and forks aside so they can leave for whatever they have planned. You stand close to Steve as he watches each of them leave on bikes (and skateboards). Steve’s arm snakes around your waist, pulling your back to his chest as he rests his chin on your head. You lean into him fully, feeling completely content. Max turns to you and gives you a gentle smile, “Thanks for having us, Steve.”

“Anytime,” Steve calls out to her. “Thanks for breakfast!”

“Anytime,” she says before pushing off on her skateboard to follow the others. You watch as she catches up to the boys on their bikes before the group disappears over the hill. You and Steve still stand on the front steps, Steve presses a kiss to your temple.

“Feeling better?” You ask, trying not to pry. Steve mumbles in your hair and turns you to face him. You reach up and brush a fallen strand of hair from his forehead, and then run your hand down to rest on his jaw. He leans into your palm before kissing your hand. “Much better,” he whispers. Steve glances over your shoulder to where the kids had just disappeared. “I’m glad they were here. Those little shits are the closest thing I have to a real family.”

“They are family, Steve,” you tilt his focus back to you. “As dysfunctional and crazy as they are….they’re a family who will always show you love.” Steve’s eyes scan over your face before he brings his mouth down to yours. The kiss lasts for only a second before Steve breaks away in a full smile. A Steve smile. His eyes are crinkled, a blush keeps onto his cheeks and his perfect lips are pulled into a grin. You smirk back at him, your heart swelling from seeing a real smile from Steve after so long. Steve’s hands find your waist again as he rests his forehead on yours, “thank you.”

You know there’s no need to thank you, but you nod anyway. Steve pulls away from you to look right into your eyes, “so you’re really team pancakes, huh?”

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

i love domestic!steve, when is it MY turn! apologies for any errors but I uploaded this from my phone bc I’m on vacation okay byeeee

next in the series: “cinema” - s.h. x reader

✭ masterlist  ✭ requests 

-meg

[e-spexially]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑼𝑪𝑲𝒀 𝑶𝑵𝑬 | 𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑵𝑰𝑪𝑲 𝑶𝑫𝑨𝑰𝑹

synopsis. a retrospective look at the events that led Lorraine Cortez, Victor of the 68th Hunger Games, into the Quarter Quell with Finnick Odair.

pairing. Finnick Odair x fem!oc

part. 2

warnings. movie canon, angst, hunger games typical violence, family tension, enemies to lovers, angst

Inside the District 4 Justice Building, Lorraine picked at the skin of her fingertips anxiously. Occasionally, one bled.

Cecily said that she would volunteer. She said she would. If it had just been a fleeting idea or fantasy, she wouldn’t have voiced it. Lorraine replayed the moment they called her name. She laughed. She actually laughed, thinking the whole thing was just dumb luck, pure chance. And the screaming, she furrowed her brows in embarrassment as she thought of herself screaming and kicking as they tried to pull her from the crowd. Getting nervous? Lorraine could forgive Cecily for that, but in turn, making her look like a scared little girl? She wasn’t sure how she’d be able to move past it.

There was no use in feeling angry at the girl now, not when she needed to be focusing on what she would say as a farewell to her parents and sister. Being from the same family, she and Devon were allowed to be in the same room for the final goodbyes. They stood in opposite corners of the room, not speaking. The silence made her nervous, as it always did.

“Is Vidia coming?” Lorraine tried. Devon didn’t respond, only shooting a glance at the door that stood between them and the Peacekeepers. Lorraine hoped that his steely gaze was just a tactic to save face and not something permanent. She needed him now more than ever. 

The door flew open and their family rushed in. Lorraine’s resolve nearly broke at her father, red in the face and choking in sobs. Her mother rushed to Devon and pulled him into a tight hug. Lorraine was pulled into the same hug by her sister, who whispered into her hair.

“Make sure you eat plenty of food before the Games,” Charlotte advised. “Putting on some weight will keep you going for a while. And water, find water as soon as you can.”

Lorraine soaked up the other girl’s advice, hoping that maybe it would be enough to save her. Charlotte had watched the Games closely every year, making note of the strategies that worked and the ones that didn’t. If anyone knew what they were talking about, it was her. 

“Just stay safe, please.” Charlotte broke the hug, her wishes for Lorraine’s safe return indicating that she had already picked sides, so to speak. Their mother was holding Devon by his shoulders and whispering something that Lorraine couldn’t hear, even with their close proximity. He was beginning to show a semblance of emotion, it looked like disbelief or even fear. Still, it was so faint that she was merely guessing.

She rushed into the strong arms of her father and allowed herself to fall into him. It took quite a bit of effort not to cry then. Lorraine couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him behind, to walk home from the docks without Devon to reminisce about the day’s catch, or without her to pack the lunch that fueled long hours of pulling heavy nets onto his boat. But most of all, she couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him alone with her mother now that the buffer between them was two layers thinner. Now that Lorraine wouldn’t be there to join him two blocks away at the Shores after they argued.

“You’re a strong girl, Lory,” the man’s broad chest vibrated with his words. “You’re half mine, after all.” He tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a gasp.

“Dad, only one of us can come home–” said Lorraine, voice cracking ever so slightly. Her father squeezed her tighter.

“I know,” he said. It was all he could think about. “I know. But I don’t want you to think about that, I don’t want you to be afraid.”

It was easier said than done, but it was all he could say to keep from thinking of it himself. The girl clutched onto him as he tried to pull away. This was goodbye, after all, and she had to make it last. The thought of never seeing him again only made her hold him tighter. She likely wouldn’t have let the man go, had it not been for the Peacekeeper that reminded them of their decreasing time.

Their parents switched places and Charlotte joined her father in saying goodbye to Devon. Lorraine was about to tell her mother that they didn’t have to hug if she didn’t want to when she was cut off by the woman throwing her arms around her. Though the act lacked a certain warmth, it made up for it in a kind of desperation. She was taken aback by this and wrapped her arms around her mother hesitantly, looking at Charlotte with confusion. The other girl only gave her an uncertain glance. Finally, Lorraine stopped trying to decipher the hug and started to embrace it. She tried to imagine herself outside her own body, watching the woman and herself. She pictured the curve of their arms and backs as they held one another and tried to burn the image into her brain. For a moment, she felt superior to her brother. He didn’t receive an embrace nearly as long as this one. Her mother shook, roughly wiping her eyes out of Lorraine’s line of sight. When the woman finally let go, she wore a watery smile and fixed her daughter’s hair with gentler hands. 

“I love you, Lory,” her voice was firm as the nickname she never used escaped her lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Lorraine said with a soft, but unsure expression. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t wondering where all this was coming from, but there were worse goodbyes to have.

“One minute.'' The Peacekeeper stated from outside.

Her father cupped Devon’s face and looked deep into his eyes.

“I don’t care what you have to do,” he shook the boy slightly, just enough to let him know he was serious. “You protect your sister.” Devon nodded with a clenched jaw. Finally, the man pulled him into a hug and Lorraine could make out a choked sob from her brother.

Their father requested they join hands one final time, but soon the minute was up and the Peacekeepers opened the door, harshly ordering the three visitors out.

The family rushed to be close once more, but they were separated by the other guard until nothing remained but scattered “I love you”s and outstretched hands. Panic grew in Lorraine as they pulled her sister out of the room and closed the door. Devon’s face was pale and he looked shaken by the entire ordeal.

Lorraine’s eyes shot to the door hopefully as it opened again, maybe they decided to give her family more time. Instead, she was met with the gray, glassy eyes of Vidia. Poorly, she tried to hide her disappointment. Vidia was Charlotte’s friend, not hers. They got along well enough, but she knew the dark-haired girl was only there for Devon.

She was by his side quickly, adjusting the clasp of his necklace that had shifted to the front. “I’ll tell my mom to call her brother so that he can help your dad,” she said calmly. “He’s been looking for some seasonal work anyways.” 

The word lingered in the air like breath on a cold day. 

Seasonal. Temporary.

“Tell him the pay is good,” said Devon evenly. “Or so I hear, I didn’t make it to full time.”

Vidia shook her head. “You will, when you come back.” Lorraine had started picking at her fingers again, trying to make it seem like she wasn’t listening.

“Vidia, come on,” to Devon’s credit, he tried to keep his voice hushed. “The Tributes from One, Two, and Three are going to be ruthless and I only have a year’s worth of training under my belt.” Lorraine thought back to the year in question.

Devon came back home the first day, griping about the other children that he encountered at the academy and how they were arrogant, and how he hated them all. He carried that attitude to this day, always scoffing at the mention of people like…well, like Finnick Odair. But he didn’t stay for very long since that was the year that Vidia’s father drowned and Devon had to take his place working for their father, one of the better-known fishermen in District 4.

“You don’t need training,” the tall girl snapped. “Look at you, I mean you’re built for this!” And built for it, he was. But then, Lorraine thought, that was the problem, wasn’t it? 

The Peacekeeper barked the time from behind the door, making Vidia drop the topic at hand.

“I love you,” she smiled as brightly as she could, hoping to lift his spirits. “Please think of me every night, before you go to sleep.” She made it sound so easy, to just go to sleep and think of anything other than surviving. Lorraine wondered if this was the case.

It was a television show before anything. How much of it was staged, who was to say it wouldn’t be as Vidia suggested? She felt a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up to see the other girl had moved to stand before her.

“I want to wish you the best of luck, Lorraine.” Vidia smiled softly. It wasn’t a wish for her victory or her safe return, but more so that her death would be swift and painless. Lorraine understood and tried not to hold it against her.

“Thank you, Vidia.”

“Time’s up.” Vidia gave Devon a kiss and left the room gracefully, the way she did most things.

The ride to the train station felt like an eternity and Devon still hadn’t said a word to Lorraine. He felt incredibly distant and the barrier that was Freesia Fallows didn’t help. She sat between them, watching herself apply gloss to her eyelids through a round compact mirror. Lorraine replayed her last interaction with her family, hoping that this would turn it into a vivid memory. What advice had Charlotte given Devon? Did she even think he would need it? What had her mother said to him? She pursed her lips thoughtfully, wondering if it even mattered now.

Once they arrived, they were bombarded with cameras and reporters. Flashes of light blinded Lorraine as her picture was taken too many times to count and she caught sight of herself on the TV screen above her. She looked like some scared animal which made her angry. All the effort it took not to cry and for what? For her to look weak and helpless anyways? Devon’s face hadn’t changed since they left the Justice Building and she envied his ability to look completely put together, even when he wasn’t. Just another thing he’d gotten from their mother.

Once the cameras had been given enough of them to air later for the replay, they were brought into the train and the buzz of the reporters became muffled as the door closed with a hiss. Three sofas were arranged tastefully in the train car, resting on a dark red carpet. The windows allowed light to flood the space and Lorraine could almost feel safe, had it not been for the sudden start of the train as it picked up speed.

“You each have your own sleeping quarters and a new wardrobe waiting for you!” Freesia smiled. She seemed proud of the train, as if she had built and furnished it with her own two, green-gloved hands. “Get comfortable, we’ll be at the Capitol in the morning. I will call you for dinner.” The woman was about to settle into a plush sofa when Devon spoke.

“Where’s the restroom?”

“Oh, your lavatory is in the next car, just down the corridor!” The boy nodded.

“Thank you.” He hurried in the direction she had pointed, looking pale now. Freesia didn’t look very concerned, but Lorraine rushed after her brother. She entered his bathroom just as his breakfast came back up and left him hovering over the toilet seat. His breathing was ragged, making her nervous that he would be sick again.

“Devon?” He didn’t say anything. She made her way over to him, ripping a piece of bath tissue from the roll on the counter and handing it to him. Devon wiped his mouth with a shaky hand.

“I’m sorry,” he shut the toilet seat and sat back against the wall. “I just didn’t think anyone wanted to clean up Mom’s soup back at the Justice Building.” Relief flooded Lorraine at his words and she allowed herself to take a deep breath, knowing now he hadn’t been ignoring her after the Reaping. She smiled before kneeling, the soft material of her dress the only thing between her skin and the cold tile floor.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m starting to feel it too.” After the reaping, a sickly feeling had made its home in the pit of her stomach and Freesia’s mention of dinner didn’t do her any favors. She would do her best to heed Charlotte’s advice of gorging herself before the Games, but it would be a challenge.

“Where do you think they’ll put us?” Devon said after a long silence. Lorraine was caught off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“For the Games,” he specified. “What do you think the arena will be like?”

She hadn’t really thought about it. All she had been focused on was how nervous she was.

“I hope it’s a beach, like back home,” her voice was dreamy, as if she knew it wasn’t likely. It was almost never something so serene, the Gamemakers usually opting for some harsh terrain. “What about you?”

“I hope it’s somewhere cold,” Devon mumbled. “You can work with cold, you can’t escape the heat. Not really.” Lorraine tried not to show her discomfort as she thought of the cold. She truly hated it.

“Devon, about what Dad told you,” she changed the subject to what her mind found more pressing. “I’ll understand if‒”

“Don’t do that, you’re going to bum me out,” he looked up at her. “Look, I’m going to do what I can to protect you, but you have to learn to protect yourself too. We’ll train together and fight together, for as long as we can.” Lorraine nodded, feeling a bit better now that some form of a plan had been discussed.

She found her cabin not long after and inspected the chest of drawers. They were empty save for one, which held spools of thread in every color imaginable. Next to them was a pair of gleaming metal scissors, in which she could see her own reflection. It was hard not to instinctively pick herself apart now that there was no one here to confirm if she looked suitable. She slammed the drawer and avoided the full-length mirror that stood in the corner. The bed she dropped down on was soft, far softer than that of the one she had at home. It was uncomfortable even to sit on.

There was a knock on the door. When she approached it, the door slid open with another quiet hiss, revealing Freesia and her cheerful smile that never seemed to leave her. It made Lorraine uneasy.

“Dinner is ready,” Freesia moved aside, opening a space for the girl. “Your mentors are excited to meet you.”

Lorraine had nearly forgotten about the mentors. She knew Finnick would be at that table, waiting for Devon and for her, there would be Mags Flanagan. She didn’t envy Devon in the slightest, knowing full well she wouldn’t be able to concentrate if Finnick Odair was her mentor. With a sigh, she moved into the corridor and let Freesia lead her to the dining area.

Her breath caught in her throat when she entered the room and caught sight of him. He was in a dark green shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows as he spoke to Devon. Her brother looked agitated to say the very least and she knew it would be a tense few days before the Games. She sat in the chair next to him and looked ahead at the older woman in front of her. She was a small woman with curly gray hair and a warm smile that managed to calm Lorraine’s pounding heart.

“If I don’t go to the Cornucopia, then where the hell do I go?” Devon demanded of Finnick.

“Anywhere, just not the Cornucopia,” Finnick replied, crossing his arms with a shrug, “not in the beginning. There will be supplies within reach of you by your platforms, those can always come in handy.”

“Those are almost never valuable.”

“They are if you know how to use them,” returned Finnick, matter-of-factly. “Besides, the supplies you want will find you eventually, whether it’s from a dead Tribute or a sponsor. That is, if you’re alive long enough to receive it.” He found that last bit particularly funny and let out a snicker before stabbing a fork into his serving of mashed potatoes. Mags tried to share his amusement, but looked more apologetic, similar to a mother with her difficult son. Devon let out a huff as he started eating as well, finally noticing his sister.

“We’ll have plenty of time to discuss strategies in the Capitol,” Freesia spoke from her spot at the head of the table. She wasn’t really eating, mainly moving her food around her plate. “Let’s all get acquainted first. Devon, you know Finnick,” her tone was nervous, as if she was afraid they would begin bickering again if she addressed them. “Lorraine, this is Mags. She mentored Finnick, which means she knows just what you need to win!” The table was silent as she said this.

“What are your strengths?” Finnick asked. Lorraine’s eyes flicked to Mags, who also waited for her answer.

“I’m fast,” she replied. “Mainly in the water, but I can run fast too.” This was true, she was an exceptionally strong swimmer, one of the strongest in her class. As far as running, she always managed to be ahead of even Charlotte. That was a feat in itself. This was her only real asset in the arena, she hoped it would be of some use.

“We can work with that,” Devon reassured her. Finnick’s eyes never left Lorraine.

“Let’s hope so.”

They sat at the table in silence for the next hour, Freesia doing her best to fill it. Just then, the television announced the beginning of the Reaping playback. Lorraine rested her head in her left hand, covering her eyes. Maybe if she didn’t watch it, the rest of them wouldn’t see it either. Devon nudged her.

“Pay attention, we need to see what we’re up against.” She groaned and sat up to watch the program. Out of the twenty-two other Tributes, she only tuned in for a handful. The District 1 boy was a large, intimidating figure with angry eyes and clenched fists. His glare felt as if it was coming straight through the camera. Chassi, the girl from District 6 was tall and dark haired, similar to her fellow Tribute. He looked melancholy and Lorraine felt his emotions very strongly. After the District 4 Reaping was shown, her face flushed with embarrassment at her screaming. 

“Well, she certainly looks excited,” Claudius Templesmith teased. Caesar Flickerman let out a good-natured laugh.

“I’m sure it’s just some good old Reaping jitters!” His cheery tone did little to hide his amusement. When they called Devon’s name, the two let out shocked gasps.

“I have to say, I did not see that coming,” Caesar said, looking to Claudius for a reaction. “But now, look at this young man! That courage of his is to be admired, even though it may not run in the family.”

Lorraine stood from her chair suddenly, making Devon turn to her. She wanted to be out of there and back to the uncomfortable bed down the corridor.

“Lorraine, they’re just playing their parts,” he tried to reason with her. “What they say doesn’t mean anything.”

Finnick shrugged. “That’s not entirely true.”

Devon shot him a glare before turning back to his sister. “Lorraine, just calm down.”

“No,” she said firmly. “I’m going to bed. Enjoy your show.”

“Don’t be so blue Lorraine,” Finnick gave her a smile that could have made her melt, had his tone not been so patronizing. “Everyone likes an underdog. Or, so I’ve heard. I’ve never actually had the misfortune of being one.”

Not wanting him to see her upset any longer, she stormed out of the room.

-

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