#so I’m thinking five feet down but like. MY LORD!!!!!!

[crybaby-bkg]

I started crocheting my first blanket today and my hand hurts so unbelievably bad and I’m not even a quarter done with it 🫡🫡

[lordprettyflackotara]

fill the void || fred weasley

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+

It felt odd in a way, being alone for the first time.

Usually you were surrounded by your fellow Slytherins, the smell of cigarettes and cologne something your nostrils had grown accustomed to. The sound of vicious insults or bitter rants making a nest in your ears. The sight of scowls with liquor in their hands, their knuckles typically bruised and bloody.

But right now, all of that was gone. The air in the courtyard was clean, the breeze blowing past you providing you with the smell of the earth. Your sights were centered on a giant oak tree, as well as the moon that dimly illuminated the area below. It was an odd change, your surroundings being so settled. You couldn’t help but wonder what you would’ve become if you hadn’t been placed in Slytherin. Maybe yellow would’ve suited you better.

It wasn’t that you despised your housemates, even if they were a group of misfit toys. Mattheo protected you, Theo tutored you, Draco was always glued to your side. It wasn’t them that troubled you. It was what wearing the sickening shade of green meant. Submission to the dark lord. Following the ideology of pureblood nonsense. Especially being one of the only prominent girls, there was always the lingering question who’d you marry and reproduce with.

Yuck.

“Am I interrupting?”

You didn’t need to turn around. You’d recognize a Weasley’s voice anywhere. “Unfortunately not,” You admitted. You hated to admit you knew which Weasley twin it was, a lanky Fred Weasley plopping down beside you on the concrete steps. He stretched out his long legs, mere inches separating both of you. “Is there a reason you’re perched out here instead of doing shots with your friends?” Fred asked. How could you explain why? Oh yes, I am having an existential crisis because of the fact my dress is emerald. Want to go inside and split a chocolate frog?

“Where’s your other half? Didnt think you two separated,” You quipped, brushing off his question. Fred took the hint, leaning back on his hands. “Currently snogging Angelina Johnson,” He answered. This caught your attention, your head snapping to look over at him. “The chaser that wiped the floor with Blaise last season?” You asked. Sometimes you forgot how small this dreaded University actually was. Fred nodded, shrugging. “Aggressive on and off the field, just the way George likes em,” He replied.

You snorted. “Ahh yes. Makes sense a Weasley would enjoy being slutted out,” You snickered. It was too easy of a jab. Fred began to man spread, his long legs in your personal bubble. “I wouldn’t be so hasty little serpent. A few of us know how to put a brat in their place,” He smirked. The cocky motherfucker winked, heat dashing across your cheeks. You must be in a different dimension. There’s no bloody way a Weasley made you blush. “You’re cute when you blush,” Fred praised. He couldn’t help but notice how good you looked in the moonlight, the beams highlighting your features.

“Are you complimenting me Weasley?” You questioned. You avoided his gaze, trying to ignore the fact your heart skipped a beat. “Obviously not, i’m flirting with you,” Fred replied, unable to control the smile creeping across his lips. You were just so easy to tease. “What makes you think you can flirt with me?” You asked, turning your head to look over at the ginger. He shrugged, meeting your firey gaze with ease. “Perhaps it’s because we’re in the same boat, sitting out here alone in a bloody courtyard while the yule ball is less than five hundred feet away,” Fred explained. You audibly scoffed. “Weasley’s can’t afford a boat,” You spat.

Fred chuckled at your insult, your venom harmless to him. “Considering you’re out here I think it’s safe to say your boat has sank. Guess we’re on the same island together then,” He replied. You couldn’t help but find his facial expression smug. “Great,” You grumbled. You rested your chin on your knees, contemplating your life decisions. Fred sighed. “Well, if my presence really isn’t that valued i’ll relocate,” He said. He began to rise to his feet, your body doing a one eighty. You didn’t realize your hand was gripping his wrist until it was, desperately holding him in place.

“Sit down Weasley. I-,” You paused, looking up at the ginger. “I’d prefer it if you stayed.”

Fred grinned down at you mischievously, resuming his place beside you. “Figured you’d say that. Just wanted to hear you say it,” He gloated. You slapped his arm. “You’re unbearable. You know that don’t you?” You grumbled. Fred couldn’t help but laugh. Your annoyance was adorable. “You seem to like it,” He replied. You frowned as he stood up in front of you. “Do not,” You argued.

“Do too.”

“Do not!”

Fred extended his hand in front of you. The faint sound of classical music could be heard over the stillness, the wind having faded out. “Care to dance?” He asked. The choice was standing right in front of you, demanding an answer. You could say no and continue moping on the stairs. You could say no and go back inside, all eyes on you once again. Or you could say yes, potentially having a good time with a boy you didn’t belong with. Dancing with a Weasley? Draco would have a field day with this one. But Fred’s hand never looked more appealing than it did in that moment.

Hesitantly you took his hand, allowing him to bring you to your feet. Even in heels he easily towered over you, the ginger not hesitating to bring you close to his chest. “You know you can drop the bad girl act with me, I won’t tell,” Fred said, guiding you back and forth. You were an awkward dancer, despite the endless ballroom dancing classes your parents put you through. “It’s not an act,” You argue. Fred looked down at you, his face painted like he knew you. Like he could see right through your hollow shell.

“Sure it isn’t. And i’m not the best prankster in Hogwarts,” He quipped. You slowly spun you around, giving you time to catch up as you almost tripped in your heels. “You’ve really got quite an ego, don’t you Weasley?” You asked. Fred grinned as he pulled you back close to him. “Thats a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?” He asked. You glared up at him. “I think not,” You argued. Even though your words were laced with venom, you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed his touch.

So gentle but so assertive, guiding you. Your mind strayed away, imagining him guiding you a different way. Guiding you to take his cock, to ride him until the sun came up. “Hey? Are you listening little serpent?” Fred asked, his voice coming back into frame. You blinked a few times, trying to regain your composure. “Sorry, what?” You asked. Fred slowly guided the dance to a stop, the song ending. You couldn’t help but wish it’d last forever. “I was asking what you’re thinking about,” He said.

You could feel yourself turning red, your filthy thoughts flooding to the forefront of your mind. You felt tongue tied, unable to confess your dirty fantasies. “Ohh, I see,” Fred said. You couldn’t bear to look at him in the eye, embarrassed enough to be in this position. You felt his slender fingers slide under your chin, guiding you to look up at him. You allowed him to guide you, his eyes boring into yours. You liked that, allowing him to guide you. Even if he was supposed to be bad for you, his touch put you on cloud nine.

“Do you like that? When I guide you? Take control?” Fred asked, his voice dropping an octave lower than before. You could’ve dropped to your knees in an instant. “Maybe I do,” You replied, not wanting to cave, not just yet. Fred leaned down further, pressing his lips against yours. His lips were warmer than you thought they’d be, filling the void inside of you. The void that craved approval and validation. His lips provided all of that and more. He guided you towards the giant oak tree, pinning you against it.

The sharp bark scraped at your back, a groan escaping your lips as Fred’s refused to stray from yours. You raked your hands throw his hair, pulling at the roots roughly. Fred whined into your mouth, smirking as he pulled away. “Cute,” He murmured. His eyes flickered behind you, ensuring no one was around. “As much as i’d love to make you squirm, we can’t do much here,” He whispered. You pulled him back to your lips, sliding your tongue into his mouth. You couldn’t get enough, your body craving him.

“That eager, are we?” Fred asked, pulling you back in for another kiss. You gently bit his bottom lip, pulling it towards you. “Fuck me, at the very least Weasley,” You ordered weakly, your body betraying the attempt at dominance you were spewing. Fred grinned mischievously. “Turn around for me pretty girl,” He purred. You did as asked, his large hands pushing you against the tree. You could hear the clinking of his belt, your core throbbing in anticipation.

His large hands pushed up your dress, pulling your panties to the slide. “You’re lucky we’re in the courtyard, otherwise i’d make you beg and scream for me to fuck you,” Fred purred. You felt his tip brush up and down your folds, a moan escaping your lips. One of Fred’s hands flew to your mouth. “Gotta keep quiet little serpent. Dont want anyone to hear you being a whore for a Weasley, do you?” He taunted. He pushed himself inside of you slowly, your body feeling like it may split in two.

“You’re fuckin soaked for me,” Fred mused, placing a sloppy kiss against your shoulder. Your moans were muffled by his hand, your walls struggling to accommodate his size. “I’m bigger than Malfoy aren’t I?” He asked teasingly as he bottomed out inside of you. You grabbed onto his wrist, yanking it away from your mouth. “In your dreams Weasley,” You spat, whimpering as he bucked his hips ever so slightly. Fred began to suck at the side of your neck, harsh enough to leave a hickey. “Dont leave marks on me,” You argued, moaning as he began to thrust into you. Fred released your neck with a pop, satisfied as the skin began to turn purple.

“Whys that? Afraid your boy toys will find out you’ve let me in between your legs?” Fred asked, beginning to pick up the pace. His pace was brutal, his hand flying back over your mouth to muffle your sinful noises. “When they ask tell them. Tell them how I ruined you. How a Gryffindor made you cum in a courtyard like a dog in heat,” Fred huffed. He continued to viciously snap his hips into yours, his cock abusing your g spot with each thrust. You moaned his name into his hand, gripping one of his wrist and the tree for support.

“You’re so fucking tight, so perfect,” Fred groaned into your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He removed his hand from your mouth, his hands taking their rightful place on your hips. “I’m going to make you cum on my cock. You understand me? You’re going make a mess for me,” Fred ordered. His orders were hypnotizing, your legs beginning to shake as he held onto the fabric of your dress. You could feel the knot inside of you tighten, a familiar feeling coming.

“Please make me cum Freddie, fucking please,” You pleaded, your orgasm coming faster than you’d like to admit. Fred chuckled, fucking you mercilessly against the tree. “There she is, there’s my sweet whore. Go on, cum for me,” He panted. You squeezed his wrist tightly as you came, euphoria washing over you as you came on his shaft. Your legs trembled, threatening to give out on you at any moment. You felt Fred’s hips stutter, the ginger pulling out of you.

He guided you onto the ground, your bare knees hitting the dirt below. You stuck out your tongue, allowing Fred to cum inside of your mouth. “Holy shit,” Fred moaned, watching as you swallowed every last top. You both sat there for a moment, your highs subsiding as you soaked in what you had just done.

“Hey y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna grab a butterbeer sometime?”

“Shut up Weasley.”

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

This doesn’t get a title because I’m confused

Disclaimers: The only character I own is the reader insert!

Author’s Notes: I think I got possessed, I don’t even like Sam 😭 like in the slightest 😭

But pretend season 8ish Sam has season 2-3’s hair for the sake of that’s the season I’m on lol.

Icons by @gosling-girlx !! She’s a genius!

Anyway, all notes are appreciated!

Content/Content Warnings: 18+ ONLY! Minors do not interact, this is NOT for you.

This fic is extremely spicy, sort of can’t-stand-each-other sex. Reader’s AFAB & uses she/her pronouns, only physical description is of her being shorter than Sam. There’s oral (both m and f receiving) and unprotected piv which frankly only exists in the books- wrap it before you tap it!! Oh also they’re both pretty mean to each other… you’ll see.

Again, I think I got possessed when I made it-I sincerely can’t stand him- but hope you enjoy it!

**************************************************** Working with the Winchester Brothers is a gig like no other. Cas and I are more tagalongs in the operation these days, Cas demoted to resident healer and I to stay at home mom, apparently.

One accident (authors note: one possession & a year long recovery for a spinal injury retained from said possession) had apparently rendered me useless to the boys. It’s not all bad- I’m relatively close with the older one, Dean, since we’re both hoes for a good time and good movies/music. And before the accident, I was happy to kill evil sons-of-bitches with Dean any day of the week.

And of course, Castiel is a right sweetheart- showing him new human things is the sweetest experience in the whole wide world.

But you know what ruins the laughs and the nice moments? The younger brother. Sam “Little Shit” Winchester.

I don’t know how he found himself upon the moral pedestal he crafted for himself, but lord I want to remove his kneecaps and slap him with them. Little baby giraffe looking shit.

I don’t like the way he acts, plain and simple. Between the way that he treats Dean and the way that he talks so condescendingly to me- I’m about two seconds from starting a fight every time we’re in a room together for too long. He seems to feel the same way. It’s helpful in a hunt- both of us are smart enough to concentrate that anger towards our monster of the week instead of each other in the field- but now, when there’s no field to take the anger out on? Dean’s had to break up at least 3 almost-fights, and I’ve only been back on my feet for a couple months.

***

The boys looked especially pissy coming home today- they’d grumbled something about a “stupid fucking vampire bitch,” and went their separate ways, Sam to the med bay and Cas trailing Dean like a golden retriever.

Great. Looks like I’m on Douchebag Duty.

***

“What’s your problem?” Sam snaps as I tug the thread on his stitches a little too roughly.

“My problem, you dick? I’m the one that’s stitching you up right now, why don’t I just let you bleed out?” I retort, yanking on the surgical needle with the string attached to a particularly nasty cut on his upper arm. Cut’s an understatement- it’s really a bullet wound. I’m just too proud to have pity for the jackass.

“Yeah, your problem!”

I set down the needle at that, my fists clenched at my sides. “You’re a whiny little bitch who can’t sit still and shut the fuck up for two minutes! That’s my problem.”

“I think you’re a little too high and mighty there, princess,” he scowls, standing up to full height, presumably so that he can use his stature to literally look down at me.

“Yeah? Look who’s talking, Mr Morals,” I seethe, staring up at him. I snatch the needle, on my tiptoes, and hastily finish the stitching on his scar, while standing up.

“Out,” I spit as I cut the thread.

“No,” he retorts, glancing down at me through long lashes and stupidly overgrown bangs.

“What? Is five minutes away from your big head too much to ask?” my hands are on my hips. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of staring up at him, so I stare at whatever’s eye level. He’s wearing a bloodied white tank top, which is not doing much for the whole vibe we’ve got going on right now.

He bites his lower lip, still looking down through his annoyingly long lashes. And my dumb ass is attracted to it, apparently.

“Get. Out,” I say, anger laced in my words.

“No,” he says through clenched teeth. I start to turn away, as if giving up, before pulling a Dean Winchester and turning back around on my heel, punching him in the abdomen. He grunts, keeling over. “Ow!”

“You should’ve listened, you ass,” I say, looking down at him. He looks pathetic, his eyes gone wide and pretty in pain. I shouldn’t be into this, not one bit.

Keeled over, Sam is at eye level. Our gazes lock, his hazel eyes boring holes into mine, searching for something. I don’t dare waver, looking back at him with just as much intensity until he surprises me, leaning in and crashing his lips to mine. He roughly grabs my face, holding me close as he forces his tongue into my mouth, exploring. I hate how easily I give him access, I hate the way I let out a gasp against my will. By the time he pulls away I’m already leaning back in. He smirks, humoring me for one more kiss.

“How do you like me now?” he says cockily, lips plush and pink from the kisses, hazel eyes blown out by lust.

“I don’t,” I mutter, pushing him back so that he’s forced to sit on the med bay bed. His legs are spread wide, and of course I fit perfectly between them, much to my distaste. I kiss his jawline, using mostly my teeth so that it scratches as I go, especially once I start on his neck, biting and sucking dark marks everywhere I see fit. He’s into it, little breathy whimpers further fueling my unfortunate attraction to him.

“Take off your shirt,” I tell him, stepping back and smirking at how this time he leans into my touch instead of the other way around. He thoughtlessly pulls the hem of the ruined fabric over his head, throwing it to the side, exposing an obnoxiously fit physique and an anti possession tattoo. There’s little scars everywhere, and something deep down urges me to kiss every single one of them, but that can be later.

“Take off yours,” he tells me.

“Why?” I ask, trying to play smart.

“Cause if I have to be shirtless you do too,” he says.

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Better think of a better retort next time, Winchester,” I say as I take off the oversized concert tee I had been wearing.

“Bra too,” he orders, cocking his head to the side as he looks me over.

“Who made you the boss?” I ask, already unclasping my bra.

“I did,” he says, far too cocksure.

“We’ll see about that,” I grin, letting the lacy fabric fall to the ground as I lean in to kiss his damnable hot mouth. This time I take control, taking pride in the little noises he makes.

“I’m gonna suck your dick,” I say crudely, not bothering with pleasantries.

“Go right on ahead,” and I can tell there was meant to be spite behind those words, but it quickly fades away into sighs as I start kissing down his pecs, his abs, lightly scratching anywhere I can find with my nails. I hate how hot the heat between my thighs is, but at this point, I can’t help it, especially as I sink to my knees, nose perfectly level with his crotch.

I take his belt into my hands, grazing over the obvious tent that lies underneath it. He throws his head back at that, biting back a curse.

“What’s the matter Sammy?” I tease.

“Shut up,” he grumble, words morphing into a proper moan as I graze over the tent again.

“Uh huh,” I agree, tugging off his leather belt and yanking down the zipper of his jeans.

“Boxers? I had taken you for a ‘Tighty Whities’ girl, Sammy,” I mused, doing my best to work him up even more.

“Sto-,” he starts, immediately losing his words as I free his cock from his confines, pulling his boxers down to his knees.

You know, just cause a guy’s a big guy doesn’t always mean that everything’s proportionate. Sam’s six foot five-ish, long and lanky with lean muscle. And naturally, because everything about him is meant to spite me, his dick also fits the physical bill. My mouth waters, and the only prospect that excites my overly-horny self more than having it in my mouth is having it in my slick soaked pussy. And I will, if I have anything to say about it.

“Oh Sammy, you’re a big boy, huh,” I taunt, running a hand up and down his shaft slowly. He moans in agreement, no more fight left in him. It’s too easy.

I let go of it, ignoring the bead of pre cum leaking down as I move to kiss his thighs, grazing my teeth on them like I did on his neck. He seems to like it, legs moving in towards my mouth. Finally I move my mouth towards where he obviously wants me most, rubbing the bead over his tip with my thumb. I’m a little wary about taking the whole thing, but I’m sure as hell going to try.

I start simple, kitten lips around the base, licking a long stripe up the underside before wrapping my lips around the head, and he moans, a little too loudly. I brace my hands on his thighs before taking a deep breath through my nose and forcing myself down far enough that my nose is touching neatly trimmed hair. Thankfully my gag reflex is still gone-it’s been a minute- as I hold him there for a moment, before starting to bob my head up and down, testing the waters. He whimpers and whines, and it’s pathetic, and I’m far too into it, unable to do much else than keep up my ministrations.

One of his big hands find the back of my head, fingers weaving into my hair. I don’t think he does so with intent of forcing me to move, but the idea is so hot that I lock eyes with him with my mouth on his cock.

“What? You want me to fuck your mouth?” he asks, panting. And once he says it out loud I get impossibly wetter, and I moan yes, unable to nod at all with him buried as far as he’ll go.

“Damn, you’re a slut,” he grins, and I moan in agreement before he starts moving my head slowly. Forward and back, forward and back, before I lock eyes with him and he gets the hint to take it harder, hips starting to thrust meeting my throat as his hands push. I just keep sucking, doing my best not to choke as involuntary tears leak out. But it doesn’t hurt, not at all. If anything I’m just doing all I can to not start rubbing on my own sensitive spots.

Before I know it his whimpers get louder and his whines get needier, and he grits out “I- I’m going to-“

So I release him with a pop, taking a hand and rubbing up and down his length furiously before he bursts. Once he does, with the most pathetic whimper yet, I get my mouth right back on him, taking every drop of his hot release down my throat. When he’s done I stay there, opening his mouth so he can see that there’s nothing there.

“God, you’re such a slut,” he mutters, echoing what he said before as he catches his breath and pulls me up by the hair- gently.

I shrug cockily, moving back as he stands up.

“Strip and have a seat,” he lazily demands as he puts his perfect cock away.

I roll my eyes but comply, taking off my remaining clothes so that I’m left in all my glory.

“You’re gorgeous, y’know that?” he compliments, a moment of tenderness as he crowds me against the bed so that I’ll take a seat. I blush, letting him hoist me up so that my ass is on the edge of the dinghy bed. “My turn,” he grumbles, voice low and hot against the column of my neck. He’s even rougher than I was, nipping at every square inch of skin that he meets, sucking dark marks down the side of my neck and over the tops of my breasts. I’m like a bitch in heat, responding to every touch in ways I can’t control- pornographic moans, leaning into his touch. He’s pulling on my hair to give himself more access, and I’m starting to worry that I’m soaking the bed. His mouth continues to work wonders, especially as he travels southwards, playing with my breasts.

He’s mean, outright biting the one and pinching the other, and it’s just what I need. I tangle my hands into his annoyingly long hair and tugging, not missing the way he moans into my chest.

Finally, finally, he gets down on his knees. He rests his chin on the bed, breath heavy on my heat. The sight of his head pillowed on my thighs as he looks up at me with those puppy dog, blown out eyes is enough to get me to come on the spot.

“This all f’me, princess?” he asks roughly, collecting some of the gratuitous wetness on two long, thick fingers.

“N-no,” I stammer, clutching his hair tighter. He bites back his moan in favor of a smug grin.

“N-no,” he mocks, turning to the side to bite the inside of my thigh, and I whine. “Uh huh, that’s what I thought.” His nose is eye level with my clit, and the only warning I get before he dives into my pussy is a small smirk that meets his hazel eyes.

“Fuck!”

He moans in between my thighs, setting my entire body on fire. I try to wiggle away from him, but it only takes one big, strong hand to hold my hips in place as he fucks his tongue into me, his nose rubbing on my puffy clit. It’s wet and it’s gross, but so, so hot.

He’s a little too good, knowing all the buttons to press that leave me tracking wetness all over his face, before taking two fingers and roughly pushing them into my core, giving me no time to adjust. They’re thick and long, and when he makes the come hither motion I know I’m fucked, doing everything I can not to gasp his name.

“S-s-oh my god,” I cry as he plunges his fingers all the way down to the knuckle every time, reaching deeper and deeper and rubbing on my g-spot. He’s too busy sucking on my clit to say anything, his attention overstimulating.

He adds a third finger, and that, combined with him tracing patterns on my sensitive bud, sends me straight over the edge with a an unintelligible cry.

Of course the bastard doesn’t stop, not until I’m physically shaking from the overstimulation, legs quivering, and on the brink of a second release.

He removes himself from my heat, laying his cheek on the inside of my thigh, looking up at me smugly.

“Good, huh?” he knows it was.

“Fuck you,” I mutter, voice weak.

“That’s what I’m getting to, princess. So impatient,” he taunts, standing up to full height again. Sam haphazardly wipes the slick off of his face with his forearm, not really caring how much he removes. He kicks off his shoes and socks before taking off his slacks and boxers in one go, revealing that gorgeous cock again. He stands before me, looking like some kinda statue of physical perfection. I have to physically close my jaw looking at him.

“Like what you see, princess?”

I stick out my tongue and blow a raspberry.

“Real mature, sweetheart,” he rolls his eyes. “You have a condom?”

I shake my head. “Don’t need one, I’m on the pill and I have morning after. Want you to fuck me and fill me,” I tell him honestly.

“God you’re a slut and you’re freaky? I’d never have guessed,” he mused, stepping between my thighs. I assume he’s clean as well since he doesn’t really… get out much.

“Yeah, that’s cause you’re not the brightest,” I tell him, scooting as close to the edge as I can without falling.

“Uh huh,” he says sarcastically, before picking me up and slamming my shoulder into a nearby wall, yet gently resting my back against it. Gentle with my injury, wow. Wouldn’t have expected it. I gasp, surprised by the sudden motion.

“Payback for the gut punch,” he explains.

“Oh yeah? I’ll punch you again if you don’t fuck me,” I say, a mean edge to my voice.

“Mkay,” he says, obviously not swaying either way as he aligns his tip with my entrance.

“Fuck me,” I order through a gasp, unable to wait anymore.

“Careful what you wish for there, princess,” he warns, before sheathing himself in me in one go.

Look, I can get laid whenever I want, especially back when I was on duty as a hunter. I’m no stranger to sex, and I have a decently high sex drive. If I can’t get some, then I always have backup- toys and vibrators, you name it.

But Sam? His dick was big in my mouth, but in my pussy? I feel like I’ve been split in two, my mouth is dropped in an o. But it feels so, so good.

“Move,” I demand after a few moments of adjusting.

“Say my name,” he cocks his head, pushing impossibly deeper so that he’s practically touching my cervix.

“Sammy,” I say with as much sass as I can muster, my voice high from the added pressure. I know he hates the nickname, it makes him feel like a baby. Because he is one.

“Nuh uh, princess. Say my name,” the pad of his thumb flits over my clit.

“Unh- Sam!” I moan, unable to stop myself.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Now ask me to fuck you. Nicely.”

“No.”

“Guess I’ll be on my way then,” he starts pulling out.

“No!” I whine.

“Ask nicely.”

“Sam, fuck me please?” I ask with as much sweetness and doe eyes as possible for me.

“You really are sweet when you’re horny,” he remarks, pulling back, before setting a brutal pace that has me raking my nails across his back and moaning his stupid name. He’s pounding into me with all of his might, sweat sheening on his brow.

It’s so hard that I can barely get any words out, and I hate it, but it just feels too good.

And of course, Sammy has enough words for the both of us.

“Fucking you dumb, huh? Got such a big attitude until I’m in you, just needed this dick,” he says, laughing meanly as I involuntarily clench at his words.

“What? You like me being mean to you? You get wet every time we fight?” a particularly hard set of thrusts accompanies each of the words in his third rhetorical question. I moan, not even sure of the answer. Probably? Maybe? Gah.

“Look at you, taking it like a good slut. You’re so tight and wet, and it’s all f’me,” his raspy voice starts slurring with lust. He brings one of his hands between us, finding my swollen clit and rutting on it, tracing patterns just as he did before with his tongue.

“S-Sam, it’s too much-,” I cry, unable to handle the overstimulation.

“Good,” he grins wickedly, before upping the ante both in thrusts and in rutting, unraveling me into a mess in his arms. I cry his name, helpless as I come down for the second time.

“So soon?” he tuts, not slowing his pace.

“Sh-shut up- ah-,” is all I can say as he gets impossibly rougher, chasing his own release.

“Gotta finish the job, princess,” he stutters, before growing more and more erratic. He’s got me on edge again as he does so, but mercifully comes before I can. I feel his hot release in me, filling me up just a little too full with his dick that he hasn’t yet pulled out.

Eventually he wordlessly puts me down, fingers plugging our mixed release in me. I can’t even complain- him keeping me full is unfortunately kinda hot.

“So…” he starts, looking down at me.

“Get out,” I interrupt.

“No,” he says, not moving.

This is going to be a long afternoon.

****************************************************

“Did you guys finally get into a bout?” Dean asks as we walk (re: stumble) out of the med bay and into the kitchen where he and Cas are sitting playing Uno, Bon Jovi playing in the background. “Oh- oh.”

Yeah, it’s pretty obvious the fight we got into. There’s no hiding it, even if we had tidied up our hair or faces- there’s scratches and bruises everywhere. Whoops.

“Are you guys in need of healing?” Cas asks innocently as Sam and I sit down a chair apart.

“No, Cas… these are, uh, special bruises. The fun kind. And they’re everywhere, apparently… damn, Sammy.” Dean comments as he surveys his brother and I. Sam coughs, and I reach over to punch him from my seat away. He grunts, and then we all go quiet.

“So… all in favor of never talking about this?” I ask after an uncomfortably long uncomfortable silence.

“Aye,” say the brothers in unison. Cas also agrees after Dean elbows him. “Fantastic.”

[runningfrom2am]

in this life or the next

summary: It's the seventy-fifth annual Hunger Games, and you were just unlucky enough to get picked; but lucky enough for this Quarter Quell to feature pre-selected teams. You get paired up with District One's pride and joy, the one and only Rafe Cameron.

pairing: rafe x fem!reader

wc: 15k (oh my LORD)

tags/warnings: its the hunger games so like... yeah... violence and gore and stuff. definitely swearing, spoilers for the og Hunger Games movie I guess (but also not bc i changed it up a bit- you'll see), reader has a special talent that i won't spoil here, Rafe is lowkey a dick at the beginning, Ward being a shitty dad (what's new). also this isn't thoroughly edited bc.. its 15k words and i'm lazy.

masterlists // nav // requests

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a/n: hello lovelies!! oh my gosh i have been slowly chipping away at this for actual literal months, and i am so proud of how it turned out!! i’m really glad i could finally post it by my birthday!! (i’m 23 wtf??)

thank you so much if you're going to put in the time to read this, but it honestly means a lot to me that you've made it this far. reblogs and likes would be so appreciated and let me know your thoughts in the replies! i really, really hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it. let me know if you want a part two of what happens post games, bc i think i left it at a minor baby sized cliffhanger. anyway, i’m off to eat cake now! enjoy!

Staring blankly out at the crowd in front of you, you attempt to process the echoing of your heartbeat in your ears.

"I'd like us to give a round of applause for our brave, brave tributes this year, and wish them the best of luck in this year's quarter quell!" Your attention is drawn to the woman next to you, the District Five escort, Opal, dressed head to toe in bright yellow. A universally happy color- what a joke.

The crowd is mostly silent and you can't bear the thought of even glancing in the direction of your parents. You turn silently as you're ushered back into the building from the stage, tripping slightly over your feet as the shock sets in. People are talking, possibly to you, but you can hardly hear a thing. You almost made it. You were almost eighteen- one more year and you would have been free.

You were granted the briefest of goodbyes to your family, but you were tempted to even turn that down. An action you regret not taking as your parents walk into the room, your mother with tears already coating her cheeks and your father trying to keep a strong resolve for you and your siblings.

"We'll see you soon, Bug. Remember we love you," He whispers into your hair as you sob into his shoulder. You know he doesn't necessarily mean in this lifetime.

Your tunnel vision settles back in as you're walked out of the room, glancing one last time over your shoulder only to see your dad's shoulders shaking from his silent cries as he turns his back to you.

You are quickly pushed onto the train taking you out of District Five, ignoring the other three tributes and your mentors as they talk. You just stare out the window with tired, red eyes and say a silent goodbye to the home you're already sure you'll never see again.

"Y/N..?" The girl next to you says, tapping you on the shoulder and making you jump.

"Hm?" You hum your acknowledgment, looking at the girl beside you. She's only a year older than you, and you went to school together for years; Maisie, you remember.

"I just wanted to make sure you hear them," Maisie whispers, gesturing to Opal as she starts to explain what the premise of the games is this year.

"So," she claps her hands together, clad in tacky yellow gloves. "I'm sure you have noticed that this year there are four of you, and you'll each be paired up with another tribute to compete. Not necessarily from your own District, but, anything is possible, I suppose. The exciting news is that there's a possibility for two winners this year! You and your teammate will be given a score throughout the games, and if your score as the final two is above ten, you will both be crowned victors!" The woman says excitedly- like it's a good thing.

"And if we don't have over ten?" The boy sitting across from you asks flatly.

"Well... the games shall continue," Opal explains vaguely, but you know what that means. You've seen it before.

"Okay, well, how do we get a good score?" The boy asks.

"I-" The escort starts, hesitance clear in her tone as she's quickly interrupted.

"You kill people," Your female mentor answers. She's leaning her elbows on the end of the table, standing with a knife in her hand, spinning it around like it's some kind of toy.

Your eyes drop from her form, staring down at the table in front of you, suddenly remembering your glass of water and quickly grabbing it when you realize your mouth has gone completely dry just from the idea of what's to come.

You arrive at the Capitol in the middle of the night and despite this fact, the crowds are still there. You didn't expect this, even though you've seen it on the beat-up television in your living room every year. It feels less real, somehow, when you're the one getting pushed through the crowd, not knowing what to do besides give awkward smiles to people yelling your name.

Your room is beautiful. You've never seen anything like this, but you can fully customize it at will with a remote, and this level of technology fascinates you. You spend hours flicking through different images that can appear on the walls, surrounding you in another world. Exhaustion and the sound of an artificial thunderstorm put you to sleep with the remote still resting in your palm.

"Up, up, up, my dear! We've got a big day ahead!" Opal's cheery voice startles you awake from your less-than-cozy spot on the floor. "There's breakfast on the table then we've got to get you down to prep, so hurry up, please." She says, and just like that she's gone, no doubt off to wake the other District Five tributes in a similar fashion.

"You're going to be meeting your teammates for the first time today so you can train together- gosh isn't that just so exciting!" Opal claps as you all stand in the elevator. There's a silence that follows as you and Maisie just nod, not excited about the whole idea. You're about to meet someone who will either be spending the last days of your life with you, or be killing you themselves, and you're not fond of either.

"This way you'll get to train together first, which I do believe to be a very generous act on behalf of the game makers." She adds, making you roll your eyes. How considerate. The most you can hope for is someone who is capable, and preferably someone who isn't in the twelve to fifteen age range, having seen that there were several drawn from different districts.

You shift on your feet as you try to adjust to the uncomfortably tight catsuit they squeezed you into, covered in what must be sapphire and diamond rhinestones, pinching your skin with every slight movement. Gold accents line the seams of the suit, extending out into something that resembles wings and lightning bolts protruding from your back. District Five; power. You get it, but we're the diamonds necessary? You hardly take note of the varying outfits you're surrounded with from the other kids in your district, before Opal is guiding the four of you up the line of extravagant carriages you're meant to parade out on for the people of the Capitol to fawn over.

You take note of where all of the other tributes from Five are lead, guessing based on the order of carriages that Maisie got paired up with another girl from Eleven, and the boys somehow ended up paired together. There must be some sort of personal aspect to this decision, considering you have watched those two boys fight back home. You're last, and Opal looks at you excitedly as you follow her up, and up, and up- to the very front of the line.

"Surprise!" She grins, clapping excitedly as you approach the very first carriage. "Y/N, getting paired with a career is huge. Your odds are good already, your partner has trained his whole life- he even volunteered."

"Sucks for him." You mutter under your breath as you get closer, eyeing up the boy in front of you, wearing an almost matching outfit. All the rhinestones make sense now, blending power with luxury could only mean as much.

"Y/N Y/L/N, meet Rafe Cameron. He'll be your teammate in the games." She smiles as she introduces you.

"Hi." You say quietly, taking his hand as he holds it out to you to help you up onto the carriage.

"Hey." He mutters, avoiding your gaze. It's off to a rough start for him for sure, seeing he's being paired up with someone from an outlying district must be daunting, when for you it should be exciting. Rafe did volunteer, yes, but he doesn't want to risk any kind of attachment- despite what the people of the Capitol want for their entertainment. He wants to come out alive, he doesn't care so much about who he's with.

"Okay, Y/N, remember to smile, please." Opal reminds you and you nod, looking down at her as you hold onto the handle in front of you.

You promise her with a nod, willing to do almost anything at this point to win the favour of possible sponsors. Again, your odds look better next to a career on that front, as well.

Quickly everyone is cleared away from the horses and the carriages and you start moving, catching you off guard and you stumble a little, readjusting your grip on the railing. "Careful." Rafe says beside you, quick to reach out to steady you if you needed it. You think you see the smallest of smiles on his face, but that must have just been your own mind trying to find comfort in anything around you.

"I got it." You whisper, blushing slightly. You've been with your teammate for all of a minute, and you're already proving yourself to be clumsy.

The lights hit your eyes the same time all the cheering does, being the first carriage, it's already so loud you can hardly hear yourself think. You snap out of it quickly, plastering on a smile once you see your own face on a giant screen ahead of you, you don't even look like yourself anymore. Your eyes land on the screen adjacent to the one showing you, seeing Rafe as well. He's smiling too, clearly having headed Opal's advice, or his many years of training is getting to him and he's excited. You really don't know. Then his head turns, and you turn your head as well, making dead eye contact with him for only a moment before he's looking past you into the crowds, taking in the moment.

When you finally get out of the extremely public eye and back into the building you exited from, you feel like you can finally breathe again. Not fully, in the tight, rigid suit they had you dressed up in, but more than you realized you were with all that yelling in your ears and lights in your face.

"District Five, right?" Rafe asks you as you're both stepping down and you nod. "Jeez, you don't talk much, do you?" He follows up with, taking a water bottle from someone who's walking by with them.

"I talk." You reply quietly. "Just... not much to talk about at the moment."

"The shock? Yeah, that'll do it." He nods, taking a sip from the water bottle and holding it out to you. You shake your head and push it away, making him shrug. "Shitty bust when you're not a volunteer."

You just stare at him, taken off guard by the comment. "That being said..." He leans in closer to make sure no one else hears. "I've been waiting my whole life for this, so don't ruin it for me, yeah?"

You pull back away from him and just nod again, not wanting to get on his bad side already. He won't be the one to kill you, probably, but it would still be nice if you spent your final days without your teammate hating your guts. "Thanks, darling." He smirks, patting your shoulder and brushing past you to go to the elevators.

The next day, bright and early yet again, you have your first day of training. You're sure Rafe won't even need it, but you certainly will. Your mentor told you he will likely be using it to size up the other tributes, especially considering there is a staggering amount of them this year, and you will need to focus on survival skills. Only survival skills, if you had to pick one thing- and your mentor drove that into your head until it was all that was echoing in your mind when you entered the training center.

After the trainers speech which ironically tried to do the same thing, you beeline straight for the fire making station. You're shocked to see almost no one else listened, definitely none of the boys, mostly lining up to show off their physical strengths, likely to try and intimidate each other. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't working.

You look up as you hear echoing laughter coming from the other side of the room, eyes scanning over the wall lined with silhouette targets, and racks with an array of weapons before landing on your teammate, laughing away with the other career tributes over a joke you didn't hear. He's got a spear in one hand, leaning his weight on it as his head drops back with laughter. You shake your head to get back on task, rolling the rough wood in your palms in hopes of making a spark. Good to see at least one of you is having fun, especially in your final days.

After a few minutes you get it, sitting back into your calves where you were kneeling on the ground, taking a breath of relief as you're satisfied with your success. You glance around to see how others are doing, giving a small smile and wave to Maisie when you see her, reading a book about different edible plants and trying desperately to memorize every image. You watch as Rafe takes the same spear he was leaning on before, hurling towards one of the targets. A direct hit, right in the chest, slightly right of the centre. You jump a little at the sound it makes on impact, looking finally at the boy who threw it.

He's pacing, huffing and looking a little frustrated with himself. A little to the left would have been perfect, but it was a kill shot nonetheless. There would be no coming back from that, and you count yourself lucky that it likely won't be you in place of the target in the games.

You quickly put out your fire and try again, making sure you've got the hang of it. You'll sit here all day if you must. After three more successful attempts, you're satisfied for the day, deciding you'll return to that station tomorrow and try again. You get up and brush the dirt off your knees, trekking over to where they have supplies to make game traps. You've never done this before, but there's no better time to learn, especially since your teammate has shown no interest in survival skills so far today.

"What are you doing?" Suddenly Rafe is standing behind you, as you're once again kneeling on the ground attempting to get the trigger on your bladeless trap to work.

You jump a little, startled by someone talking to you. "Uh, trying to make a snare, I think." You answer, turning to look up at him.

"Looks good." He nods, crouching down next to you. "Uh, isn't there supposed to be a blade or a spearhead or something on that piece?" He says, pointing to it.

"Well, yeah, I just didn't want to stab myself by accident." You laugh slightly, trying the trigger again- and this time it works, snapping forward into his arm.

"Ouch, yeah, fair enough." Rafe chuckles, rubbing the spot on his arm where the wood made contact.

You just nod and begin to reset it to test it again. "What if you can't get any of this shit in the arena?" He asks.

"What, a stick?" You ask, hitting the trigger one more time, sending the stick into his arm again, which he had decided not to move.

"Ow! Yes, a stick. We don't know what it will look like." He rubs his arm, examining the trap you built closer now.

"Then we're screwed I guess." You joke, leaning back on your calves again, watching him dissect it piece by piece to figure out how it works.

"So, is this like, your thing?" Rafe asks, and you tilt your head at him as you think it over.

"My thing?" You ask, unsure entirely what he meant. "I've never made one before, if that's what you're asking."

"Really?" He seems shocked by this.

"Uh, yeah, really. Unfortunately for you, you got paired up with someone who has zero survival or combat skills."

Rafe looks at you, a smug grin crossing his features. "Ha ha, very funny." He clearly thinks you're joking, but you're definitely not.

"I'm serious." You say, confused as to why he doesn't believe you.

His smile falters, replaced with wrinkles of confusion on his forehead. "But- I just watched you look at the instruction book for no more than like, three seconds before sitting down to make this."

"And..?"

"If you've never done it before it's supposed to be harder than that."

"Well, I've seen other people do it on TV and stuff every year for like, ever." You shrug. "I've just got a good memory, I guess."

Rafe nods, looking at the deconstructed trap in front of him for a moment, thinking about the implications of this. How far does this go? Could he use it? He'd never dreamt of having to work in a team in his games, but maybe it would benefit him after all. "Come with me." He stands up, and you follow as he paces over to two big screens, covered with a large array of different symbols.

"Try this, I just want to see something." Rafe says, standing next to you with his arms crossed as you quickly look over the screen, reaching down toward the one in front of you. You notice quickly that the screens mirror each other, all the images placed in the same spots as they are above. You look up at your teammate briefly who nods at you and then you tap one, watching it disappear from both screens before you tap the matching symbol. It's a matching game.

Your eyes are locked on the top screen as you tap away at the bottom one, quickly making all the images disappear one by one. It takes you no more than a minute to get rid of them all, and then a timer appears on the screen replaying your every move in real-time. Forty-two seconds. Were you really going that fast?

"Neat." Rafe says to himself, nodding as he watches it replay on the screen. That was impressive, sure, but his mind is straining to find a practical implication for this in the arena. "Go back to survival stuff. Learn as much as you can." He settles on, turning and walking off back to where he was before, returning to combat training.

The four days of training fly by insanely fast, and that's likely due to your dread of what's to come. you've got through everything in survival no less than three times, and you're pretty sure last night you dreamt of plants and making a fire. Not surprisingly, Rafe has left you pretty much alone the whole time, but you did watch from a distance as he cycled through every weapon the training center had to offer, proving he's almost mastered every last one. Of course, with over ten years of training, anything less wouldn't make sense. What scares you is the other careers showing a similar skill level to that of your teammate, but he seems to be on good terms with them. Again, maybe this would be a good thing in the beginning of the games.

You sit down for your last day of making fires and fishing hooks, working solely on memory since day one, you're feeling pretty confident that the elements or exposure won't be what takes you out- but you don't know if that's a good thing or not. You just hope your death will be quick.

"Y/N, c'mere." Rafe is suddenly calling to you, motioning for you to join him in the combat area. Not seeing much of a choice, and not looking forward to another day of doing the same thing over and over, you listen.

You make your way over, avoiding the gaze of other tributes who are looking at you like you're about to make a fool of yourself. It's possible you are. "I want you to learn how to use this." He says as you walk up, holding out the handle of a knife to you.

You take it, turning the sharp blade over in your hand. "I thought you were the weapons master." You joke, looking up at him briefly.

"Well, I need you to make fires and shit so you have to stay alive somehow, and if we get separated or something I need to know you can at least defend yourself. These are good from a distance and up close, but remember that any weapon you have they can take and use against you. So keep distance whenever you can." He answers, pointing over to the target about fifteen feet away. "So, throw it."

You look over to where he was pointing, adjusting your grip on the handle as you nod, taking in the information he's dumping on you. He is probably right, especially since you don't think he plans on protecting you himself. Why would he? If you die, he can still win without you.

You lift your arm over your shoulder, closing one eye to narrow down your aim before throwing it hard towards the target, which the knife bounces off of and clatters to the ground. You and Rafe both turn at the same time to look at the group that's laughing at you, the clang of the metal on the cement echoing loudly in the vast space.

"Don't worry about them. They're not there." Rafe is quick to grab another one, handing it to you the same way. "Try again, this time, hold it like this..." He says, grabbing your hand and placing your fingers in the correct spots on the handle. "Keep your wrist tense and straight, don't flick it or anything. Yeah, like that." He nods, taking a step back.

You look over how you're holding it, committing the feeling and finger placement to memory before raising your arm again. You throw it again, and this time it sticks, but your aim is off and it ends up in the target's leg. You look over at Rafe, unsure if you're hoping for approval or just satisfaction. "That's perfect." He nods. "Not a death blow, but that'll buy you time to get away. which is all you need."

"Okay." You agree quietly.

"Would it help if you watched me?" He offered, already grabbing a new knife while you nod. "So, you want to follow through with the throw, your shoulders should end about here if you're doing it right. You get more power that way, and better aim." He explains, standing with one foot forward, parallel to the target.

You step back to watch his strategy, noting the way he held the blade and his form when he aimed to throw it. He lets it fly from his fingers as his shoulders fall forward, smirking to himself as it hits the bullseye circle, right in the chest.

"You got it?" He asks, standing up straight again. You nod in response and he's handing you yet another knife to try again.

You go back and forth for hours, not caring that you're keeping anyone else from practicing. You're not the best at it, but it's become muscle memory now, and every time it sticks, most of the time hitting the silhouette somewhere. You tried the moving targets briefly, the gold, pixelated figures running at you quickly. You were immediately overwhelmed, and Rafe ended up having to step in to help. He said after that the minimal skill you had would be good enough to get away, and that is all you would need. You just have to focus on that.

You didn't talk a lot, besides taking a few short breaks to gather the knives and his arrows as Rafe explained the pros and cons of every weapon they had present, showing you briefly how to use some of them. Mostly how to defend yourself against them. It's hard for him to sum up years of training in one day, but he's dead set on the idea that you won't need most of it- just having to focus on keeping the two of you sheltered and fed, he can handle the rest; hopefully.

You sit outside the training center next to Rafe, waiting for your name to be called. It was the youngest female tribute from his district first, so if you had to guess, you would be third and fourth to go, which doesn't buy you a lot of time to decide what to do to best show your skills.

"What are you gonna do?" You ask, whispering in the deathly quiet room.

"Huh?" Rafe hums, leaning closer to hear you better.

You clear your throat, before speaking this time, unsure if you were clear enough. "What are you gonna do? Like which skill?" You clarify.

"Oh, uh..." He mutters, adjusting how he's sitting as he thinks about what to say. "I'm just going to cycle through some different weapons, different distance targets, I think. My mentors want me to show like, a variety of what I can do."

You nod at this, making a mental note of that. Maybe you should do the matching game and then try the knives. Opal told you that you would be scored both individually, and as a team. You hope you won't bring down his score too much, since you know he's aiming high. You planned on going for a mid-level score, not to be seen as a threat but also not as an easy kill. A perfect six would be your ideal score. "What about you?" Rafe interrupts your thought process.

"I'm not sure." You answer honestly.

"You should do your survival stuff. That will improve our team score, if we show them we have strengths at both." Rafe suggests. That's not actually a bad idea. Your individual score will likely be lower, but that's a risk you're willing to take.

"Yeah, I'll do that."

You ended up scoring a six, the judges obviously not seeing you as any kind of threat. This is what you expected, though, and you were correct about your group score as well. Rafe and you together scored a ten. On his own, he scored a ten, so you hadn't affected it in the way you feared. This left you reeling over the idea of other tributes seeing you both as a threat as you stand in yet another extravagant dress, waiting in line to be called out for your interview. The games were tomorrow, and the last thing you wanted was to get in front of a crowd and subtly plead with them to let you live, to send you gifts, and to give you their sympathy.

So far it's been in the same order they called everyone for assessments yesterday, which means you would be next. Rafe stands behind you, arms crossed in a suit that looks more expensive than any you've seen back home in all of your life, but he looks comfortable in it. Your dress is once again covered in rhinestones, and your waist is cinched in so tight you can hardly breathe as it is, so you're not looking forward to going on stage.

"Our next tribute, welcome to the stage from District Five, Miss Y/N Y/L/N!" You hear the familiar voice of Caesar Flickerman calling you out and some guards usher you forward onto the stage, very briefly glancing over your shoulder at Rafe.

You're quick to smile as you turn back around, giving a small wave to the host and then out to the audience as they cheer for you. For a brief moment, you feel as if they don't plan on watching you die as early as tomorrow, you feel as if they're rooting for you. "Hi!" You say as you get closer and Caesar stands up to greet you, shaking your hand and giving you a quick hug before gesturing for you to sit down across from him.

You look around the large theatre, spotting every camera you can. Your family is out there watching, somewhere, and you know they'll see right through this show you have to put on. You wish they wouldn't. You can picture so vividly your living room back home, with your parents and siblings scattered across the couch and the floor watching you with bated breath, they can see you- and on some level, you can see them too.

"Miss Y/L/N. Thank you for being here." Caesar sighs, reaching out and patting your hand where it sits on the armrest next to you.

"Well, I didn't have any other plans for the night, so..." You shrug, making him laugh. Laughter echoes from the audience and you smile, hoping that your plan to win people over is working.

"What? A beautiful girl like you?" He asks after he's done laughing. "You weren't planning on spending some of your free time with your teammate?" As if you got even a minute of free time since you've been here.

"Well, I guess we'll never know." You chuckle, looking back at the boy where he stands in the wing, giving you a small smile.

"Now listen, Y/N, Rafe is..." He has to stop after mentioning his name as cheers erupt again, laughing as he waits for the audience to quiet down. "Your teammate is, as you may have guessed, a popular face in the Capitol right now. Are you feeling lucky about your pairing?"

Rafe crossed his arms as he watches intently, feeling smug about his odds, especially now knowing the Capitol's opinion of him. He knows his dad is back home watching, full of pride that his son has become a fan favourite.

"I am." You answer honestly. "He's very talented."

"And handsome, don't you think?"

"I mean, who am I to argue with the people?" You joke, waving your hand dismissively as you hear the cheers pick up again. "Besides, his looks won't save us. We will save ourselves." You add seriously.

Caesar nods in acknowledgment, showing that to an extent, he agrees with you. "Well, I hope that you are right, dear." He smiles, getting up to signal you've run out of time. You stand as well, taking his hand as he holds it up above your heads. "It was so lovely to meet you, and may the odds stay ever in your favor. Y/N Y/L/N, everyone!"

You smile and thank him quietly, waving to everyone with both hands as you walk across the stage to exit on the other side. You take a few deep breaths as you step into yet another waiting room, watching the screen as Rafe is called out right behind you.

Rafe sits down on the chair across from Caesar after his introduction, which allows a few moments for the audience to quiet down. He smiles proudly as he rests one of his feet on his other knee, bouncing his leg with anxiety. He hopes it's interpreted as excitement. "Rafe." Caesar smiles at him, sitting back down as well. "I'll be honest, I have been so excited to finally meet you."

"It's good to meet you too." Rafe grins, chuckling slightly at the few whistles he gets scattered from the crowd.

"You got a fabulous score, how are you feeling about that?"

"Really good, yeah. Obviously I've been waiting my whole life for this opportunity, so it feels amazing to see it all paying off." Rafe answers, focussing on keeping the confidence in his tone.

"We can tell, can't we?" Caesar laughs, riling up the audience again, making Rafe laugh to himself as he softly shakes his head. "Yeah, yeah. So, with all this planning you've been doing, how do you feel about getting paired up? You probably expected to be going in solo."

"I did, for sure, but I don't think this is a bad thing." Rafe admits.

"Oh, getting along well with your teammate?" Caesar asks, a hint of suggestion in his tone.

"Yeah, we get on really well." Rafe exaggerates your relationship a bit, knowing it will earn you more sponsors, and maybe keep other tributes away from you in the games. "At least I think we do, I'm not fully sure about her thoughts on me, though."

"You scored incredibly well together, despite Y/N having a fairly average score on her own. What are your thoughts and feelings on that?"

Rafe chuckles as he leans forward a bit, pointing out to the audience as he speaks. "Don't underestimate her based on the score. I won't give you any spoilers, but trust me, don't overlook her. She's got as good a shot as any of us. Maybe better."

Caesar makes a surprised expression as he nods. "Well okay! Does she have some sort of secret weapon we should be worried about?" He chuckles, gripping the armrests and looking around as the audience laughs.

Rafe just shrugs in response, smirking slightly, which you can tell the audience just eats up. You're trying to decide if this is good or bad for you, though, as you watch, gnawing at your nails in anticipation as you stare at the screen.

"Okay, alright, don't spoil anything then." Caesar laughs. "It'll make for a better show, and I can get behind that."

After a moment of waiting for the cheers to die down, Caesar speaks up again. "Rafe, if I can ask, I know your father has a lot of influence in your district- how is he feeling about your selection for the games?"

You furrow your brow a little bit as you look at the screen, finally learning something interesting about your teammate. If he's from a prominent family in District One of all places, that would certainly explain his attitude. Rafe, on the other hand, doesn't want to talk about his father at all- but of course they would bring him up.

"Yeah, of course." Rafe replies, shifting in his seat. "He's thrilled, it's a huge honour to be here, and to be the first out of his children to be chosen is really special to me. I just hope I can make him and my sisters proud, he's always encouraged us to volunteer."

"I'm sure that you will." Caesar smiles at him. "I hope I will have the honour of hosting one of your sisters on this stage one day, as well."

Your stomach churns just watching this. How can any father who loves his children want this fate for them? This was your father's worst nightmare. You watch as Rafe nods with a smile, and you can see behind his eyes that he doesn't want that, not at all.

The audience cheers as they both stand up, shaking hands before Rafe leaves the stage, a cocky smirk on his face as he waves and winks at the audience. Before Rafe makes it down to the waiting room, you're grabbed an escorted out, heading for the elevator back to your room.

You can't eat, but you know you should. This will likely be your last meal for a while. You decide on just taking a large bowl of fruit and toast to your room, trying to get it down slowly with all the nerves, while you have a bath. Your parents never let you eat in the bath. It's hard to get out knowing this is likely the last bath you'll ever have.

The morning goes by in a blur, you feel Opal's arms around you as she hugs you goodbye and wishes you luck. You know you'll need all of it. You stare down at the ground in front of you as you're pushed onto a plane, of sorts, along with all the other tributes. Once you're sat down, you look around at everyone else. You remember all of their names as you scan over their faces, but you wish you didn't. You get stuck on one of the girls from District Eleven, Hope, who was only thirteen.

She's shaking, and you can see that from where you're sat down the row from her. She reminds you of Rue, the tribute from last year. Her death was a tragedy, it broke the hearts of everyone outside of the Capitol and the career districts. Hope's curly hair sat in a bun on top of her head, and tears fell down her cheeks as she sniffled. She got paired up with a girl from Twelve- the lengths the Capitol will go to to make a mockery of last years games will never cease to amaze you.

"Hey, you look a little pale." Rafe whispers, leaning close to you. You didn't even notice him sit down on the other side of you.

You shake your head slightly, looking down at your knees. "I'm fine."

"Don't think about it." Rafe instructs you, holding his arm out for the tracker to be injected as a guard approaches with the device.

You wince as you hear it get shot into his arm and he chuckles, shaking his arm off to ease the sting. You raise your shaking arm as they hold their hand out expectantly to you. You don't know what it is they're putting in you, but you've never been fond of needles. This is a million times worse. "It's not that bad," Rafe tells you, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel pressure on your forearm, followed by a sharp, stabbing pain. You bite your tongue to keep from making a sound, dropping your arm onto your lap as they quickly walk away.

"What did they do?" You ask him, trying to keep a steady tone.

"It's a tracker, so they know where we are in the arena." He explains quietly. You were the only two talking, and you notice it's earning you glares from several other tributes. Rafe notices this as well, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms, taking this time to size everyone up.

The plane takes off, and before you know it, you're landing at the arena on the outskirts of Capitol property. You wonder if you're close to the ocean, not that you'll get to see it anyways.

You're paraded off of the plane, still trying not to let it show how afraid you are of what's to come. You make the briefest of eye contact with Maisie as she's pulled towards a different hallway, and neither of you have it in you to smile anymore.

"We've gotta get supplies, that's our first move." Rafe says to you as you're led out of earshot of other tributes, into your own hall.

"My mentor said to run." You reply quietly.

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head. "Your what, one mentor said that? Cool. I have fifteen that are still alive and well enough to show up every year. I think we should get supplies." He tells you firmly, but you know that will get you instantly killed, maybe not him, but you stand no shot. "Just stick with me if you want to live."

You just nod a little bit, glancing at him again briefly before you're directed into a separate room across the hall from him. His pedestal will be next to yours, which is a bit of a relief. Your stylist quickly instructs you to strip, and then she helps you into the uniform you assume you'll all be wearing. It's exactly the same as last year, you notice this quickly, but with a '75' logo embroidered on the chest where the District Twelve tribute had her pin placed. Katniss, you remember her name was. She had volunteered for her sister, and at the time you contemplated heavily on whether or not you would do the same. She was so, so close to winning- to getting to see her sister again, but she and the boy from her district, the final two tributes, ended up committing together rather than giving the Capitol their Victor. It was an admirable stance, but you couldn't imagine what that was like for her family, and his.

You step off the concrete floor once you're dressed, instructed to get into the pod that will lift you up into the arena; a glass elevator. Your stylist says nothing to you as they walk out of the room, the glass door sliding shut in front of you. Your knees get weak as you realize you are totally, completely alone, and likely no more than twenty minutes from dying. You think of your family, your siblings, your dad- and the last words he said to you. You'll see him soon.

Your thoughts are halted when the elevator starts to move, lifting you up as the ceiling falls away and you can see sunlight coming through. You squint and shield your eyes as you try to look up to get a better grasp on your surroundings before you can even see anything. Once trees come into view you're frantically looking around, trying to process as much information as you can, and quickly. It's exactly the same as last year, but from what you can tell, flipped in reverse, and made larger to accommodate twice as many tributes. Or everything on camera last year was flipped. There's a silver cornucopia in the middle with the timer that's immediately counting down and supplies inside and scattered around the field in front of you. Rafe is to your right, and a boy from Seven on your left. He scored a six, the same as you, so he's not the biggest threat to you immediately.

You adjust your stance, getting ready to run once the timer hits zero. In what direction, you don't know yet. Rafe wants you to run to the supplies, but statistically, the most deaths will happen in the next five minutes and you don't want any part of that. The supply bags and weapons spread out on the grass are all the same too, by the looks of it. The closest bag to you got picked up by the girl from Seven last year, and it didn't have much of anything helpful. If you're remembering right, it had a rope and some matches, and that was it. It definitely would be useful, but you know you can do better. There should be a bag four pedestals to your right, with a water bottle, an emergency blanket, a fire starter, a first aid kit, and a knife. Right now, that's the one you have to get to. That's your best bet.

Ten, nine, eight... The timer ticks down to the final seconds as you look over at Rafe, who's already looking at you. You point to the bag as your eyes land on it on the other side of him across the field, and he looks at you confused. He's closer, he has a better shot, but you know he won't take it.

Rafe is confused, following your finger and spotting the bag. Why would you want that one specifically? There are others closer, he doesn't feel like now is a time to be picky.

Four, three, two...

Your ears ring with shock as the clock reaches zero, and you're watching most of the other tributes booking it for the center. No one has seen your bag yet as you jump down, beelining across the field and narrowly brushing past Rafe in your move for the small backpack. He stops to let you pass, almost crashing into you head-on. He doesn't have time to worry about you, so he continues on his path to the middle, but he's lost time. Precious time that he doesn't have to lose right at the beginning of the games.

He gets into the bloodbath that the cornucopia has already turned into, looking back over his shoulder quickly as he grabs at any weapon he can get his hands on. He quickly has to sacrifice the blade he just grabbed when he hears footsteps quickly approaching from behind him, turning quickly and plunging it into the boy's chest. He doesn't think to look at who it was.

Cannon's echo around you, and you're counting how many internally as you get to the bag, reaching down to grab it as you run past, trying not to slow down. You look back over your shoulder, hoping to spot your teammate somewhere, but you can't see him. You're scanning the area, blocking out the blood you see flying and scattered along the silver metal of the cornucopia. You can hardly hear any screams over the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You can't help but watch as the girl from Three jumps on who is supposed to be her partner, a girl from Twelve, snapping her neck in a second. Within moments, she just drops to the ground next to her- another cannon following. That makes a strong incentive for working in teams. At least Rafe won't betray you early on.

You freeze up for a moment, stopping to scan your surroundings. You still can't find Rafe, taking in the number of bodies scattered around the cornucopia and a few tributes running into the tree line. At least some people were smart. Something flies past your head, making you jump back a step as you look up ahead of you. Within an instant, you're being tackled back by the body of the boy from your district.

"Y/N, fancy seeing you here." He chuckles darkly while you try and fight him off.

"Don't!" You squeak out, him pressing his forearm down against your throat on the ground.

"I've wanted to do this since the second they called your name." He growls, shoving you down again.

"We can help each other, Jack..." You say weakly, clawing at his arm.

"You don't need me. You've got your career boyfriend- and whatever your secret weapon is." He scoffs. "You don't have a secret weapon, Y/N. He's bluffing and he won't convince us."

You gather all your strength and knee him in the crotch, scrambling to get away as he fumbles for just a moment. "God- you are a bitch!" He shouts, grabbing for your ankle just has you pick up the knife he had thrown at you. You grip it the way Rafe had shown you, quickly shoving it into Jack's leg. You just needed to get away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" You exclaim, backing away quickly. Jack doesn't say another word, cutting his losses and getting up to make an escape for the woods. You hope he ends up okay.

You make your break for it as well, running back towards the woods as you once again scan your surroundings for your partner.

Suddenly you're on the ground, having run straight into the side of one of the pedestals and falling over it. You yelp with the sudden impact of the ground, scrambling to get up and continue when suddenly someone is grabbing your jacket, slamming you into the pedestal again. You scream, trying to shove them off, but they're much stronger than you. "Jael! Wait, wait- Jael!" You make out your own voice yelling the boy's name, which makes him falter. He's the oldest tribute from Eight- he seems shocked you even know his name.

In the moment when he loosened his grip, he jerks forward and then falls over you, a cannon booming making you gasp as you panic to get away. Rafe is quickly running towards you, slinging the bow he just used over his shoulder and yanking the arrow out of the boy's back. "Y/N, let's go!" He shouts, motioning for you to follow him as you continue toward the tree line, both of you keeping an eye on what's happening behind you as you disappear into the woods.

"Let's stay close, but not too close," Rafe suggests as soon as you feel safe enough to slow down, your chest heaving with the exertion of energy and boost of adrenaline. He glances at you briefly, then does a double take. "You okay? Are you hurt?"

You shake your head, coughing to ease the stinging in your throat. "I'm fine. You?"

"Good," Rafe answers, slowing his pace to match yours.

"We, uh, I think we should go the other way." You say, looking around to try and mentally place where abouts you are.

Rafe stops and furrows his brow at you, seemingly frustrated by your resistance. "Why does it matter?"

"The arena, it's the same as last year. Exactly the same. Just, scaled up a bit." You explain. "We should head south, that's where the river is. We'll need water soon."

Rafe laughs slightly, his demeanor changing as he places his hands on his hips and looks at you. "No shit," He says, truly surprised and impressed that you could tell. A lot of the games tend to look like this, and he would never notice a repeat arena down to the rivers if it punched him in the face. Your 'secret weapon' is already paying off. "And you could tell that right away?"

"Yeah, I mean, I guess so. The bags were all the same, everything was laid out the same. I bet there's a river down south." You nod, having a sudden realization. "We should get to that cave- the one the tributes from Twelve holed up in last year. That'll be a good, stable shelter. We can pretty much wait it out." You say, starting to walk in what you believe is the right direction.

"No," Rafe replies, making you stop in your tracks. "Unless you want me to have to kill you in the end."

"Oh, right." You forgot about that part, keeping score. "We're still going to need somewhere to sleep, though."

"Yeah, we'll find it anyways." Rafe nods, carrying on in the direction you started heading. You follow a few steps behind, keeping a bit of distance in the somewhat awkward silence that fell over you two after his comment about having to kill you.

You walk in the thick of the woods for about an hour before you feel like you're reaching the river. You can feel it under your feet, the soil is slightly softer, and the trees a little more green.

Cannons interrupt your thoughts a few times in the hike, totaling up to twenty-three by the time you reach the riverbank. "You were right." Rafe chuckles, mentally disparaging any skepticism he faced during the long, quiet walk.

"Thank god." You giggle, dropping your bag and crouching down to dig through it, hoping for a water bottle. You were right, everything you expected was accounted for.

"Why that bag?" Rafe says, already sitting down on the rocky water's edge to rest for a moment.

"Huh?" You question, unsure you heard over the shuffling of the bag while you zip it up.

"You pointed to it, during the countdown. Why did you want that one?"

"Oh, uh, like I said they all looked the same as last year, and I hoped I remembered what was inside." You say, laying down to reach into the water and fill up the bottle.

"Were you right?"

You nod with a small smile, sitting back up and holding the bottle out to him as you cross your legs.

"That's actually insane." Rafe shakes his head in disbelief as he takes it, downing just about everything in it before handing it back.

You take it and refill it again for yourself. "I'll choose to take that as a compliment."

Rafe wouldn't admit it, but at this moment as he's watching you drink, he's grateful that he got paired up with you. But now, that it's been shown on national television that you know the arena in and out, he wonders what obstacles the gamemakers will desperately throw your way.

"We should keep moving. I feel like a sitting duck out here in the open, I don't like it." Rafe mutters, checking his attitude as he stands up. You're quick to fill up the bottle again, following behind him yet again as the arrows in his quiver rattle together against his back walking over the rocky and unstable terrain, knife gripped tightly in his hand.

You wonder to yourself how he's feeling about leaving behind his predestined alliance of the career pack, but with the factor of most of them being paired up with other districts, it was already too unpredictable. You wouldn't have stuck around either.

The sun started to set as you followed the river upstream. You didn't want to settle without some kind of shelter, and you were committed to finding that cave before you could relax. You could tell that Rafe had the same idea, his steps ahead of you gradually picking up speed with the bow still gripped firmly in his palm.

"It's a beautiful sunset." You speak your mind before thinking, desperately wanting to fill the silence.

Rafe just hums in response, looking up only briefly before training his gaze once again on the ragged rocks at his feet and continuing on. "What's it like in District One?" You ask.

"Fine." He replies coldly. You aren't sure what you expected, but this response was pretty on par. You knew you had almost no chance of survival, so it would at least be nice to get to know the person you spend your final days with, even if he would be the one to kill you in the end.

"I've never been, but I've heard it's... nice." You've only ever heard about it from the perspective of other bitter individuals from Five, jealous of the cushy lifestyle everyone knew they must have lived.

"Yeah." Rafe agrees, clearly not wanting to discuss it.

"What are your sister's names?" You ask, deciding to push a little bit. It's not like he can kill you just yet.

Rafe sighs, but answers anyways. "Wheezie and Sarah."

You're shocked that he answered at all, but you could tell in his interview that he has a soft spot for them. "Cute." You nod, smiling to yourself. "Is Wheezie a nickname?"

"Yep, it's short for Louise."

"That's adorable." You grin, shaking your head.

"Hey, look. There." Rafe says, changing the subject and pointing down the rocks, where there's a small opening under a ledge.

"That's it!" You exclaim, deciding to drop the topic of his sisters in favour for finding your shelter for the night. You rush past him, watching your step as you climb down into the small cave.

Rafe quickly draws his bow, slowing down and peaking into the cave and bracing himself for your screams. How could you be so careless in a game like this? He doesn't understand your lightheartedness, your somewhat positive attitude, and your ability to make small talk despite the circumstances. "Hey, careful!"

"It's perfect!" You call back out as you look around, and Rafe steps down carefully, looking around more carefully than you had. He relaxes once he's satisfied that there's nothing down there waiting to kill you.

"Nice, okay." Rafe nods to himself, and you both get to work making a small fire near the entrance, hidden from view.

You take off your jacket and roll it up, using it as a makeshift pillow as you lay next to the fire, staring at the orange flicker of the flames you made.

Rafe is sitting across from you, knees tucked up to his chest as he does just the same. His mind is absolutely reeling- he needs to find something to eat, and soon. That will be the first thing you'll do in the morning, he'll have to employ your help to find something edible. "How are you with making traps?" He asks.

"I can do it." You reply, sitting up and leaning on your elbow so you can see him. "I'll set some up in the morning."

Rafe nods a little bit. He already knew you could, of course, but he's wondering about the logistics of how they work. "So like... hypothetically, would they work the same if you made them bigger?"

"Like... human-sized?" You ask, catching on to what he's suggesting. It's not ethical- but nothing about this game is. For you, this would definitely be preferable to fighting other kids to death over and over again.

Rafe nods, adjusting how he was sitting and crossing his legs.

"Yeah. I can't see why not." You answer. "It would be harder since I've never done it, but I think it could work."

"Then I say we try it."

The next day, you wake up as the sun rises and the light beats down on you from the entrance of the cave. You didn't sleep comfortably, that's for sure, waking up twice throughout the night to the sound of the cannon. That's twenty-seven. You wonder how many teams have already reached their ten-kill quota, you imagine someone in the career pack already has. Both times when you were startled awake, Rafe was standing at the cave entrance, bow drawn as he squinted into the darkness, hoping that whoever was out hunting other tributes wasn't nearby.

You sit up slowly, stretching out your tired limbs as you look over to see Rafe, fast asleep with a blade in his hand. You should let him sleep, and get to work on finding something to eat, and making some traps.

You grab one of the knives Rafe somehow collected from the bag laying next to him as quietly as possible, sneaking outside and taking in your surroundings. The sound of the river flowing and the smell of morning dew was amazing- you wish you could truly enjoy it in different circumstances.

You quickly get to work tracking down something to eat, landing on a few different plants you know to be edible. You're trekking through the woods near your cave when you come across an apple tree- making you pause as you look it over. It looks out of place- and maybe no one got close enough to it in the games last time that you wouldn't have seen it, but that seems unlikely. It must be new; it makes for the perfect place to try and set up a trap for the next hungry tribute who would be unfortunate enough to wander too close to your hideout.

You're digging a hole in the ground with your hands, avoiding the roots of the tree and sticking in some sticks you sharpened when you hear a twig snap behind you. You freeze, hoping that by some miracle, it's just an animal. You slowly turn your head to try and look, picking up the knife from the ground next to you and holding it tight.

"Just me." Rafe's voice relaxes you, and you stand up, brushing off your knees.

"You scared me." You admit as he takes to looking down into the hole you just dug.

"That looks... awful." He chuckles, patting your shoulder. "It won't kill, but it'll slow someone down enough that I can finish the job."

You nod slightly, staring into the dirt as well. You hated the idea that you were crafting something intentionally to bring harm to another person, but realistically you have no choice. "We'll set up more, along the riverbed and closer to the career pack. We can't monitor them all at once, though- can you make more fatal ones next time?" Rafe asks, pointing back towards the river to accentuate his point.

"That depends, how many arrows can you spare?"

The next few days saw the death toll rise to thirty-six. You kept track every night, scratching their numbers and names into the walls of the cave despite being able to remember anyway. You viewed it as a small memorial, Rafe saw it as a timer ticking down to when he'd have to kill you.

Your first trap had worked on one person, their screams of pain from a cut-up leg summoning your teammate back to the apple tree. He insisted you stay behind as he finished what you started. You had to reset several other traps as well, closer to the cornucopia.

Rafe would never admit it, but he was really starting to like you. He didn't want to hurt you- he was worried the traps wouldn't do enough. The passive approach you so preferred wasn't what he expected, and he knew his dad would be disappointed in him. But Ward would never understand.

He sighed as he poked at the fire with a stick, leaning his head back against the rocky wall of the cave, another cold night ahead of you.

You had your head laid on his lap, his thigh replacing the thin material of your coat that you had been using the last few days.

"How old are your sisters?" You ask out of nowhere, prompting him to look down at you. He had thought you fell asleep a while ago.

"Why does it matter?" Rafe replies, and you just shrug a little bit.

"Gives us something to talk about."

"Fifteen and Eleven." He relents.

"Hey, me too." You smile a little to yourself.

"You have sisters?" Rafe asks. He never asked much about you- he didn't really want to know, in the case he had to kill you.

"Yep. And a brother." You nod, sitting up a little bit. "He's older though, he aged out last year."

Rafe finds himself clenching his jaw. He can't hear that- to see you as a little sister. He doesn't want to imagine what it would be like to see his sisters face the same fate. "Lucky guy." He says quietly.

"Why? I thought it was a privilege, and all that." You chuckle.

"Well, yeah, but not for most. For the outlying districts like you."

"At least you get it." You agree. "How does it feel? Now that you're here, I mean."

"Scary." Rafe admits, throwing caution to the wind now with what his father will think. "Not what everyone tells you it'll be like."

"Is that because of me?" You ask after a few moments, and he nods slightly.

"Not in a bad way, though. It's just different. I expected to be on my own, to die alone, or kill my allies if I had to. Now... I don't know that I have to. Or if I even could." He can practically hear his father shouting at their large screen at home, or storming out claiming he was an embarrassment. He was told his whole life to never show weakness, to 'be a man', but now, at the end, that doesn't matter to him.

"I won't take it personally." You giggle softly, voice shaking as you try to make light of it. "My family won't either, I don't think. Maybe my dad, at first, but eventually he'll understand. They'll forgive you." You try and ease his mind, knowing that in the case that Rafe does win without you, he'll have to face your family in the next month or so during the victory tour.

"I wouldn't ever expect him to." Rafe tells you, tossing his stick into the flames now. He feels sick hearing you talk about it like it's inevitable- but if he has anything to do with it, you'll be coming home with him.

"They're good people." You assure him.

"Don't say that." Rafe chuckles, shaking his head. "I would never forgive myself."

"Okay, fine. They're awful. Just... the worst." You smile, looking up at him and resting your chin in your hand.

"That's better. Thank you." Rafe laughs, poking your forehead and gazing out onto the river as the flames illuminate the water.

In the morning, you're awoken to something brushing your leg. You groan and roll over, head landing once more on Rafe's extended arm underneath you. At least he was finally getting some sleep, pretty much unable to close his eyes since you set foot in the arena. You feel the brush again, followed by something moving on your arm, several things, suddenly, and your eyes fly open and look down when you remember where you are. You let out a scream, scrambling to sit up and pushing yourself back against the wall.

Rafe wakes up quickly, scrambling for the bow next to him when he realizes it won't be any help. You're surrounded by and quickly almost covered in a sickening combination of snakes and spiders.

You're still screaming, trying to shove the creatures off of you. "Come on- come on!" Rafe is yelling at you, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the exit. You don't get the chance to grab your back and you regret that as you're jumping into the river in attempt to get the spiders off of your skin and out of your clothes.

You're breathing heavily as you come up for air, and Rafe is quickly there, brushing his hands over your hair to make sure every last spider is gone. He looks back at the entrance of the cave, chest heaving like yours as the bugs and snakes spill out of it. It sends a shiver down his spine- he was never a fan of snakes.

"I guess that's the gamemakers telling us enough was enough." He sighs, gently pulling you towards the shore again a safe distance away. "Are you bit?" He asks once you're a safe distance away.

"I don't think so..." You reply, hiking up the ankles of your pants to look at your calves and over your bare arms as you sit on the shore. "You?"

Rafe shakes his head, doing the same. "It was probably just a warning. We have to move." He quickly lowers his pant leg over the puncture wounds in his leg, hoping you didn't see. If it gets worse, he'll tell you. The bite itself didn't hurt much, so if it's going to be fatal, he's glad he won't have to hurt you.

Rafe helps you up, leading you up towards the tree line. "They probably want to push us in toward the other tributes, I think we should go with it before they throw something worse at us." You, the two of you now left with nothing but what you had on you, along with Rafe's bow and a few spare arrows.

He nods. "It's our best move anyways. How many tributes are left?"

"Twelve including us." You answer quickly. "There's Avril, a boy from six, Maisie, she's from my district, most of the careers I think are still in it but not their teammates," You begin to rattle off the list,

"I don't want to know names." Rafe cuts you off, and you understand why. He's been doing all the dirty work, and part of you knows it's because he's hoping to have time to learn names and feel guilty about it later. Right now, he can't afford to see them as human.

"Right." You agree. "It doesn't really matter, anyways."

"Do you know scores?" He asks, walking alongside you now.

You nod, beginning to list off all the remaining tributes and their scores, from lowest to highest. The lowest being you- and the highest being ten, shared by Rafe and a boy from district two.

After hearing two more cannons that day, and checking all the traps you had set, you're circling back to the river to be near fresh water before you set up camp again. You don't have your water bottle anymore, or anything to set up any kind of shelter with, you do your best. You set up a fire, Rafe insisting that if it draws other tributes to you so be it- he's ready for this to end just as much as you, but you don't want to rush into your death or an ambush. It's safe to say you won't be sleeping tonight.

You didn't sleep, but at least, curled up under a tree, the night sky was beautiful. The stars seemed realistic, and you wondered if somehow they were real. Between the two more cannons that struck overnight, you still wondered if you were somewhere near the ocean, or somewhere closer to home. While you're sitting next to each other in a peaceful silence, both admiring the vastness of the night sky, you hear a ringing sound coming from above.

Rafe quickly stands, reaching for the small silver pack with a parachute before it hits the ground. He's quick to open it as you stand up, looking into the container. You grab the small card, tilting it into the light of your fire to read it.

For our Y/N,

Keep fighting. Please come home to us.

Love You Always, Dad

Tears form in your eyes almost instantly, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. "It's just a water bottle and some kind of granola bars... or something." Rafe says, turning the water bottle over in his hand.

He looks up at you, frowning when he sees how upset you look. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." You quickly shake your head, wiping your eyes. "Uhm, it's from my dad."

The fact that your family could spare enough money to send you something in the games at all was amazing to you. You heard horror stories of the astronomical prices of trying to send something from outside of the capitol, without the status and funds of a sponsor.

"Oh." Rafe replies, handing you the tin and bottle now, taking the card from you gently. He reads it over slowly, and over and over again. His family had seemingly endless amounts of money, and they had sent him nothing. He knew his father viewed it as cheating, and that you shouldn't need any kind of help to win. If he loved him, though, that wouldn't matter. He should be willing to do anything he could to keep his son alive. The way your parents did.

"My mom made these." You sniffle, grabbing a small bar from the container in her hand. "They're my favourite, she only makes them on birthdays or special occasions." You explain.

"That's... that's really nice." Rafe says, putting the card back in the tin. He doesn't know how to handle this, or what to say.

You smile sadly as you sit back down against the tree, placing the tin on your lap as Rafe joins you. "Here." You hold the bar out to him.

"They're for you." Rafe shakes his head, pushing it away.

"They're for us." You insist, holding it out to him again. "They wouldn't have sent two if I wasn't meant to share."

"Thank you." Rafe smiles genuinely, for the first time in weeks as he takes it. He's starving, having eaten only small amounts of meat and plants over the last week or so, so he's quick to take a bite. It's sweet, more so than he expected. He never thought he could enjoy sugar this much.

"No wonder they're reserved for celebrations, hey?" You giggle, having intently watched his reaction.

Rafe nods. "Yeah, it's really good. Super sweet." He says, mouth still full. You grin, satisfied as you take a bite of your own.

The night flew by so quickly, you're feeling as though it must have gotten shorter. The sunrise went by fast too. You're guessing the gamemakers and the viewers were getting antsy. To be honest, you were as well.

Renewed with your energy the sugary baking your parents had sent, you set about gathering food and water, while Rafe goes on to check a few of your traps to see if they needed to be reset. He could do it on his own, but he liked watching you do it, working the ropes between your fingers and tying intricate knots, pulling back on the stick used to trigger the arrow. By the afternoon, having taken a mental note of the amount of cannons that had fired. It was a few, at least. You must be getting down to the end. He prayed it wasn't you, but the cries of some kind of mutts in the distance right before the cannons lead him to believe that you were fine- but he should be getting back soon anyways.

You were wandering down to the water, reluctant to leave your camp, but you knew water was a priority. You were just filling up the new bottle when you heard a scream. It sounded like a boy. You quickly look back over your shoulder, noticing it was nearby. Toward the apple tree. You stand slowly, looking around as you attach the water bottle back to your side with a carabiner, reaching instead for the knife Rafe had left with you. God, you hoped it wasn't him. The absence of a cannon gives you hope, though.

You quietly head in that direction, watching your step so your presence isn't detected. When you get closer to the tree, you hear crying. Painful crying, as you're faced with the reality of the trap you set.

You watch from behind a tree as the boy from eight tries to pull his leg up from the ground, screaming out again as the sharp sticks dig into his flesh. You should go get Rafe- you feel guilty, but you can't kill him yourself. You turn quickly, and before you can get a step away you're face to face with one of the other careers- a sword held up against your neck.

"Don't move." Blake says, a smile that can only be described as evil spreading over his lips.

You try and scream out for help, hoping Rafe was still in earshot but a hand is quickly covering your mouth. "Not yet." He whispers, shaking his head. "We've got a plan, it'll be fun. You wouldn't want to ruin that, right?"

As Rafe gets back to your small camp, he expects to see you there waiting. He scans the trees above him, wondering if you had climbed up for some reason. He calls your name when he doesn't see you, brow furrowed. You definitely should be back by now. As he's heading down to the water to look for you, he hears a cannon, which at this point wouldn't bother him- if it wasn't for the scream that followed after. It was you. No doubt in his mind that it was you. With his bow drawn, he's moving quickly towards where he heard your voice, throwing caution to the wind.

You scream again, crying as the tip of the sword is dug into your shoulder, laying down next to the apple tree. You can't help it- but you don't want their trap to work. You don't want Rafe to come, so you bite your tongue until you taste blood, hoping to keep quiet. "It'll only get worse for you if you don't scream, Y/N/N." Blake scolds you, digging in the blade more. "He has to hear you." He adds through gritted teeth.

You hear a twig snap just outside the small clearing, and Blake is quickly turning to look with the sword still pinning you to the ground. "Rafe it's a trap!" You shout, hoping that it's him.

Rafe steps out then, into full view with his bow drawn as he aims at the boy in front of him. When they first met, he knew they would have been good friends if they met anywhere else. "You won't shoot me." Blake chuckles, and Rafe quickly readjusts his grip.

"I will." Rafe says sternly, pulling the string tighter as Blake moves the sword to hover over your chest. Over your heart.

"If you shoot, the last of my energy will go into killing her. I don't think you want that." He shakes his head, smiling smugly.

"I don't care." Rafe says, making your heart clench. You know that you're friends, at the very least. He does care. He's bluffing- you have to believe that.

"If you didn't care you would have shot me already." Blake calls it, and Rafe tenses up, looking down at you only briefly.

"Then what do you want?" Rafe spits.

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted you to watch." Blake shrugs. "Just makes it a little more fun, you know? But don't worry, you'll be next." You know he just wants to prove himself, somehow, not having scored as high as Rafe did. You wonder if his family was somehow similar- that he needed some kind of approval that he thought he might find through sadism.

Rafe looks down at you again, and you just nod, tears streaming down your temples to your ears. He quickly readjusts before letting the arrow fly, planting straight in the shoulder that held the sword as you quickly roll over, slicing across your chest and shoulder in the process. It was well worth it.

Rafe fires another arrow into his chest, not taking any risks and the cannon quickly follows as he rushes to your side.

"Are you okay?" He's asking, hands hovering above you as he's kneeled next to you, unsure what to do.

You nod, still biting into your tongue as blood continues to slide down your skin, dampening your now torn up clothes.

"It's not that bad." Rafe says, looking over the cuts as best he can, but you wince when he pulls the fabric away. "You're gonna be fine, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah..." You mumble, letting your head fall back against the brush below you. Rafe is quick to take his coat off, using it to push down on the deepest part of the wound on your shoulder, trying with his other hand to apply pressure to the rest of it. You try and focus on your breathing, rather than the pain, but it's hard when a significant amount of weight is being applied to your shoulder and chest.

"I'm sorry, I have to." Rafe tells you, jaw tense as he lifts his coat to check whether or not the bleeding has slowed. You didn't even realize you were crying.

After a few minutes, he's lessened the pressure a bit, still holding the fabric firmly over your skin. "You could have ran." You mumble, voice hardly above a whisper.

"I wasn't gonna leave you." Rafe shakes his head, gently peeling away his now blood soaked windbreaker.

"You at least shouldn't have saved me. Not much point in that, is there?" You smile softly, trying to sit up and Rafe is quick to help.

"There is. You have to win." He mutters.

"I'm not winning, Rafe." You smile sadly at him. "Infection will kill me if you won't, and if no one else does first."

"No, they'll fix you up. This cut will be gone in a week, the technology they have is-"

"Rafe." You grab his attention again and he looks up to meet your eyes. They seemed to suck in all the light of the sunset above the two of you, reflecting back at him in a way that makes his breath hitch. The thought is cut short, however, when you say something that breaks his heart. "Don't give me hope like that."

"Why? You're gonna go home. I mean it." He promises. "I'll make sure of it."

"I don't think we have enough." You remind him sadly, a small smile still evident on your lips as you reach up to cup his cheek in your palm. "I never expected to go home. I'm okay with that."

Your friend shakes his head softly. "That doesn't matter. You have your family to get home to, I read that note from your dad. They need you, I can see that. For me, these games are all I was raised for. I have nothing left for me after this." He admits, avoiding eye contact with you.  "I could never forgive myself if I didn't get you home."

Tears are forming in your eyes again as you look up at him. The world is watching, and in this moment of vulnerability you feel that more than ever- despite the quiet sounds around you being only the rushing water in the nearby river and the birds chirping around you. "You're a good person, Rafe." You smile at him, watching as he gently raises his hand to yours, grabbing it in his own. "I hope you know that."

In this moment, you settle on the idea that you would die for him. You never understood last years tributes, honestly, how they were willing to die for each other instead of getting home to their own loved ones, but now you do. Completely.

Without a second thought, you find yourself leaning closer, Rafe doing the same as he kneels next to you in the dark. Your eyes meet once more, lips only an inch from touching when you hear a howl in the distance, and you snap your head to the direction it came from. "The Mutts... Already?" You say, scrambling to get up and ignoring the pain in your shoulder.

"I- I heard them earlier, they sound far away." Rafe says, trying to calm you.

"You heard them? You didn't tell me?" You ask, frantically grabbing his bow from the ground and handing it to him as he goes to pull the discarded arrows out of Blake's body.

"I didn't think it mattered!" He defends, trying to hide the panic in his voice.

"There were four left last year when they sent them out. I think... yeah I think that's right. There's four of us. We have to run." You say in a panic, pulling on his hand. "Our best bet is making it back to the cornucopia."

"It'll be too open- can't we climb a tree or something?" Rafe says, following after you as you're running through the bush now in the direction of the open field.

"I don't know if that will work, but I know we'll be safe there." You explain like it's obvious. "We have to risk it- and if you can get to the others first, if they have the same idea, we'll be at ten."

You're out of breath already, adrenaline pushing you through as you hear scattered barking getting steadily closer after one more cannon. Part of you wants to stop, turn, and force Rafe to take the win if you couldn't have it, but with any hope left, you have to try and get back to where this started. The traps was an unfortunate choice in how you got your kills, because you couldn't keep track of how many since by the time you got around to checking them, the body's would have been airlifted off if it wasn't a misfire. If you had to guess, though, you were sitting at eight.

Rafe is running similar calculations in his head as he lets you lead him by memory straight to the field, mind short-circuiting as he sees the silver moonlight reflect off the cornucopia.

You sprint across the open field, blood pouring from your undressed wound again with the intense exertion of energy. Rafe doesn't pass you, though, despite you expecting that he would. You have tunnel vision as you make it to the metal structure, practically slamming into it before you can even stop. Rafe is quick to lift you and shove you up, both of you looking over your shoulders as you struggle to hold onto the edge, kicking the sides to hold yourself up.

You finally get up, reaching down to help pull Rafe up. He grabs onto your arm for leverage, mostly pulling himself up and you wince as you feel the tension from his weight in your cuts.

You flop down onto your back on the cold surface as he climbs over you, immediately standing up with bow drawn as he intently scans the surrounding area. He's only got the two arrows left, which makes him nervous if that's all he has to defend the both of you with.

You try to settle your breathing, which only lasts for a moment until the sky lights up with the recap. You miss your cave, where you could contribute to your memorial, especially seeing the face of Maisie flash above you on the sky while the anthem plays.

You close your eyes, just listening to the music now until you hear barking just outside of where Rafe can see, and you're quickly sitting up. He draws the bow tighter, aiming in the direction the howls came from just as someone pushes out into the clearing. Rafe is aimed straight at them, bow string pressed to his cheek. He's getting dizzy, and quickly. His aim can't fail him now, he doesn't have that option.

You watch them, in the dark you think it's the other boy from district one, and in your exhaustion you can't remember his name. You wouldn't dare say it, anyways. He's screaming for help, a call you know you can't answer, and you watch as they stumble on their feet, shoes and hands digging into the ground as they try to get up, just ten or so yards from you by now.

Rafe wants to shoot just then, it would be as simple as letting his finger loose and the arrow would fly towards its target. It would be a merciful end for the boy he's trained with for years now, only a couple years younger than him. The muscle in his jaw is aching from the tension he's put on it when he forces himself to let go. He has to do it, for himself, if he wants to go home.

He misses. The yelp of one of the mutts tells you it landed in a paw or back, and you look up at Rafe who's already drawn his second. "Rafe!" You cry out, pushing yourself up onto your feet and standing behind him now.

He hates to admit that your empathy has rubbed off on him. Watching you every night carving seemingly endless names and numbers into the rocks that lined the space you stepped in. He recalls waking up one morning and seeing your name and his carved in as well, closer to where he laid by the fire, his underlined and yours with a heart at the end. Like a signature on the top of a math test. He had wondered if you always wrote your name like that, and in this moment as he releases the bow again, he knows he has to find out for himself.

It happened so fast, the mutts knocking down the boy and the arrow flying from Rafe's shaky hands into where he should have been right as the cannon sounds. You don't know that it was Rafe's arrow that did him in.

"No..." You mumble, clamouring forward and onto your knees again to look over as the boys body is torn apart by the mutts. "You had to have done it. You had to." You say, trying to get a better view.

In a second, Rafe's arms are around you and he's pulling you back from the edge, sitting now behind you with his arms wrapped tightly over your body. "It's okay.. it's over." He mumbles, kissing the side of your head as the sunlight comes over the trees. He's fighting off the urge to vomit, everything spinning around him now.

You sit with him, gripping onto his arms and crying. Nothing is happening, so you must not have made it to ten. You feel sick- your heart is in your throat and suddenly you're really hot, moving away from him to look over the edge again, this time incase you have to throw up. You freeze, looking over to where the boy's body once was. The second arrow was in the ground. He missed again.

Rafe sees it at the same time as you. He sighs, hanging his legs over the edge. "Shit... Y/N, I'm sorry." He mumbles, gently reaching over to rub your back.

"No, no. It's okay." You insist, sitting up next to him. "I knew this would happen."

"I'll get you home." Rafe says, sliding down the side of the cornucopia before you can stop him. He stumbles the landing, swaying in his walk as he heads towards the arrow lodged into the dirt.

"Wait! Wait, wait, Rafe!" You're sliding down after him, running to his side and grabbing his arm before he can get to the arrow in the ground.

He turns to you quickly, hand on your cheek and he's pressing his lips to your forehead. "Sit with me?" He asks, knees already giving out as he falls to the ground.

You're instantly on the ground beside him, practically holding his head up with your free hand as you search him visually for some kind of injury.  "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"Uh, I guess so." Rafe mutters. "Snake bite. I think."

"You didn't tell me? I could have fixed this, I could have helped..." You ramble on, his eyes dropping shut now. "Hey, eyes open."

"It's okay. Just sit with me..." He says again, smiling weakly. "Wait with me... please?"

You nod, sniffling as you fight back the tears that want to fall. "Yeah, of course. I'll stay."

Before he closes his eyes, the music starts again and your eyes are drawn up to the sky after you notice Rafe is looking first.

Then, begins a similar slideshow of faces you recognize. Ten in total. Rafe's eyes flicker with slight recollection, remembering any kills he made himself and you gasp when you see Jack. Whatever damage you had done when he tackled you on the first day must have killed him. "Rafe.." You mumble, lowering your eyes to meet his. "I think we won."

Your point is accentuated by the voice of the head gamemaker over some unseen speakers. "Introducing the Victors of the Seventy-Fifth Annual Hunger Games!"

"We did it." Rafe laughs weakly, squeezing your hand.

You fully ignore the aircraft hovering down in front of you on the grass, turning your head to look down at him. You don't say anything, neither of you do, and you finally feel your lips against his. The kiss is bad, it doesn't really work when both of you are stuck smiling ear to ear, but you don't care one bit. The only thing that matters is that you got this chance at all.

Rafe pulls away from you slowly, using all the strength he has left to lift himself onto his feet as you steady him. "He needs help!" You shout to them, and you're quickly being lead onto the plane.

"They've got really good technology," You mock what he said to you just the day before. "It'll be like it never happened in a week, okay?" You chuckle, feeling waves of happiness, worry, and relief all at once as you quickly wipe away a tear with your free hand, other arm wrapped tightly around Rafe's waist to hold him up.

He laughs, and you lean into him more, your forehead against his shoulder as the aircraft door slides shut behind you.

taglist: @bookishbabyyy @madelynie, @whore-4-drewstarkey, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @saccharinesammie, @ietss, @maybankslover @redhead1180, @suzyheartsrafe, @wpdailyminimeta, @aegons-bitch, @rafegirly, @lovelyxtommy @dee127

[jrswritings]

Tingles and Giggles - Chapter Ten - Tyler Owens x Reader

Get caught up with Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, and Chapter Nine! Masterlist :)

Chapter Ten - You Look Like You Love Me

After Tyler got the fire going, which took him a good half hour, he came back inside to see you curled up on the couch with his flannel on. You had your elbow on the armrest and your head in your hand. He slid his phone out of his pocket and quickly snapped a picture of you that he would later change to be his lock screen photo. 

While you were catching up on some much-needed sleep, he went down to the tiny basement, which doubled as a storm shelter, to rummage through the deep freezer to see what you both could make over the fire. It was either hot dogs or brats, he just had to find them. 

You stirred hearing the commotion, rubbing your eyes and stretching your arms up. You glanced around the room to not see Tyler anywhere. You stood up and walked over to the side door and out by the fire. Since you had gone to the truck it had already cooled off outside a substantial amount where even being in his flannel was still comfortable. You saw two chairs set up and a cooler which you hoped was filled with beer. 

You plopped yourself down in the chair, peeking into the cooler and smiling when a 12-pack greeted you. You grabbed one out of the wet cardboard and popped the cap off and into the fire. The radio was playing softly behind you, but instead of an oldies station, it was a new country station. 

You grabbed one of the shorter logs that was still intact and propped your boots up on it, leaning back into the chair and listening to the male radio host announce the next song. 

“Up next is You Look Like You Love Me which was released recently by Ella Langley and Riley Green,” he said, fading the song in. 

You rocked your feet on the log to the beat of the song and took a drink of the beer. 

“I was all but 22, I think at the time, I’d been out on the road, lonely at night,” Ella sang, “And it’d been a while, so it was on my mind. Well, I saw him walk in, with his cowboy hat,  and I thought to myself, I could use some of that.” 

You didn’t mind the song, but you knew it had been overplayed since its release. After hearing it lord knows how many times, it started to rub off on you. 

“His boots like glass on a sawdust floor, huh, had moves like nothing I’d ever seen before, so I walked right up,” the song played on, “And I pulled him to the side, I handed that man a beer and looked him in the eyes, and I said, baby, I think you’re gonna wanna hear this.” 

“Then I told him,” you sang, “Excuse me, you look like you love me, you look like you want me to want you to come on home.” 

You sipped your beer and hummed along to the rest of the chorus, as you didn’t know many of the words aside from what you’d caught on the radio and online. 

You were so into watching the flames dance with each other, the crackling of the fire soothing your mind, you didn’t hear Tyler come out of the shack and up behind you. 

“Well, I was down at a local beer joint with a few of the guys, when this cute little country girl caught my eye,” Riley sang, “And boy, let me tell you, she was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen in a pair of boots.” 

“Well, she walked right up to me, handed me a beer, gave me a look like, let’s get out of here,” Tyler sang behind you, “And that’s when I realized that she was every cowboy’s dream come true.” 

You gasped slightly, Tyler’s all of a sudden appearance scaring you until he kissed your cheek. 

“Why must you do that, I’m too young for a heart attack!” You said, playfully hitting his arm as he walked over to the picnic table. 

“Because seeing you all flustered is cute,” he said, setting the hot dogs down, “So, a slight dilemma.” 

“And what’s that besides my spike in heart rate?” You asked, leaning back into your chair. 

“We have no buns or bread for the hot dogs, so hopefully you’re good with an un-bunned dog,” he said, grabbing the roasting sticks. 

“It’s food. I’d rather have an un-bunned dog than an un-dogged bun,” you said, sipping your beer. 

“Ain’t that the truth,” he laughed while walking over to you and grabbing himself a beer. 

“What are your plans for the rest of the night with me?” You asked, looking over at him. 

“I figured we’d enjoy some fire-roasted hot dogs, enjoy a couple of beers, star gaze then head back to Prairie Winds,” he said softly, “Then start all over again tomorrow.” 

“We’re doing all of this again tomorrow?” You asked, almost choking on your beer. 

“Only if you want to, darlin’,” he said, looking at you. 

“I wouldn’t mind breakfast again,” you said, “But I need to plan a trip to Texas to see my parents soon…” 

“You make it sound like that’s a problem,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Yes and no,” you sighed, “Every time I’ve been back they pressure me about them not getting any younger, how come I haven’t found someone, where are their grandkids.” 

“Well, you can tell them you’ve found someone,” he said with a smirk.

“I’ve tried telling them that before, they didn’t believe me since the guy wasn’t with me,” you said, “And in all honestly I lied to them to try and get them off my back before I snapped and lost it.” 

“When do you want to leave?” He asked, “I’ll even let you drive me Lil Blue.” 

“W-What?” You asked, spitting your beer out, “You want to go meet my parents?”

“Honey, let’s get this straight right now,” he said, looking you in the eye, “After that kiss we shared that got my heart beatin’ faster than when I’m in the middle of a tornado, I plan to spend the rest of my life on Earth with you and only you.” 

Your breath hitched listening to him, you never had anyone tell you that before and mean it. With how he said it and his eyes full of love, you knew he meant it. You smiled slightly at him and hung your head down, a couple of tears sneaking out from your eyes. 

“Hey, hey, now lil lady, why are you cryin’?” He asked, setting his beer down and coming to kneel on one knee in front of you. 

“I-I’ve just,” you sighed, then took a deep breath, “I’ve never had anyone say that to me in such a loving manner.” 

“Well you just did, and you better believe it,” he said, lifting your chin slowly with one hand and using the other to wipe your tears, “And you better get used to it because I will tell you every day if I have to.” 

“I really don’t know what I did to deserve such a wonderful…crazy, but wonderful man treat me like this,” you said, trying to laugh while holding back tears. 

“You were just bein’ you, baby,” he said, giving you a smile and a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“I was so wrong about you,” you said softly, putting a hand on his chest as he held his kiss on your head. 

“That’s a good thing, right?” He asked, chuckling. 

You softly laughed, “Yeah, it is, babe.” 

“I’m going to start roastin’ these dogs,” He said while standing up and walking to the table where the dogs were now semi-unfrozen. 

“Think you could turn the radio up a smidge?” You asked, getting comfy in your seat again. 

“Anythin’ for my girl,” he said, leaning over and turning the dial up slightly. 

“So you’d really come to my parents with me?” You asked, looking over at him. 

“In a heartbeat.” He said, turning around with a couple of hot dogs on each stick. 

“When would you want to go?” You asked, playing with your fingers.

“Whenever you’d want to,” he said, scooting his chair closer and holding the sticks over the flames. 

“I’ll talk to my mom later, but maybe next week? Just kind of get it done and over with?” You suggested, looking at your watch with it displaying 5:47 pm, “As I’m sure they’re already settling down for the night. Cattle farmer life and all.” 

“Just let me know so I can put Dani in charge of the team,” he said, smiling over at you, “We could stop by my aunts on the way if you wanted to since I’m meetin’ your family and all.” 

“If you wanted to, I wouldn’t want to overstep or anything,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck. 

“Darlin’,” he said, “What did we just talk about?” 

“Still, Ty,” you said, “It might take me a bit to work through all the trauma I’ve been through…” 

“I know,” he said, “Of course, I want you to meet my family because you are or will be a part of it.” 

“Okay, we can do that then,” you said, “Leave Monday afternoon or something?” 

“Sounds like a plan to me, baby,” he said with a smile, “I can’t wait.” 

Want more? Here's Chapter Eleven!

Taglist: @fanboyswhore9 @faith719 @ummmeg

[gaysindistress]

Limits of a Fae Heart - five

Pairings: Azriel x Reader Summary: With war looming over their heads, the Inner Circle is desperate for a solution. The one they found comes in the form of a resurrected female who’s fated to not only their Shadowsinger but once to their enemy as well. Word count: 3.4k Warnings: reader is AFAB, mentions of the female body/parts, cursing, sexual content (p in v), spitting but it's hot, choking, slight dom/sub vibes, I'm actually awful at tagging things but there's smut. for the love of all things holy, do not read if you are a minor. One | two | three | four | six

taglist: @dr4g0ngirl @isa1b2h3 @sidthedollface2

Cassian has made it known several times that the tension between Azriel and I is getting on his nerves. He’s not so casually told us to get a room many times since the morning he interrupted us. It’s truly only been a couple of days but with just the three of us to keep each other company, we’re all starting to go a little mad. 

Then again watching an abandoned camp for days on end because your high lord said so would do that to anyone.

By the fourth day of watching and edging closer to the camp with absolutely nothing to show for it, Cassian approaches me as I’m sitting by the fire, trying to warm my stiff body. He plops himself down next to me and lets out a dramatic sigh as he leans back on his hands. I don’t spare him a glance and he lets out another sigh. I look over at him to see him already giving me a playful but annoyed look. 

“Yesss?” I ask as I stick my hands closer to the flames.

“When are we going to be done with this boring stake out? The camp has been abandoned for close to a week now and unless I’m blind, there’s no reason for us to be here anymore.”

“If you’re asking to go home, just ask.”

“Fine, can I go home? You and Azzie boy can stay here and stare lustfully at each other all you want but I would like to go home and have a proper bath.”

Right on cue, Azzie Boy materializes out of a pocket of shadows and glances between the two of us. A hint of jealous shots down the bond as he takes in how close Cassian and I are. It quickly disappears as Cassian scoots over with a loud huff. 

“Well what’s your answer?” he demands lightheartedly and an arched brow.

Azriel narrows his eyes at his brother and sits across from us, the flames illuminating every inch of his sun kissed face. 

“I planned on going into the camp tomorrow and if I found nothing, then we could leave but I think Azriel and I can handle it ourselves,” I say looking from Cassian to Azriel, who’s already staring at me. He was probably wondering what Cassian was referring to but realization relaxes his face and he nods in agreement. 

Cassian claps his hands together, “Alright it’s settled then. Don’t kill each other and I’ll see you two tomorrow!”

It’s almost pitiful how excited he is to return to Velaris but it’s even more pathetic how quickly he’s on his feet and flying away. 

Azriel leans back against the fallen tree that lays behind him and props one leg up as his shadows drop an apple into his awaiting palm. He’s purposely staying silent; baiting me to initiate conversation and toying with me by pulling out his beloved Truth Teller and using it to carve the red fruit with impressive precision.

His shadows dance around me meanwhile a few brave and handsy ones find their way under my sweater and undershirt and nuzzle against my bare skin. I gasp at their snuggly behavior and go to shake them out when his voice stops me. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

“What does that mean?”

He chuckles as he eats a piece of apple off of the truth teller. “They don’t like when you push them away. Puts them on edge and then they don’t listen to anyone.”

I don’t heed his warning and shake them out anyways, causing them to let out a sound akin to a growl. They immediately find their way back under my clothes and practically mold themselves to my body so I can’t get rid of them so easily again. 

“Told you.”

“By the cauldron,” I groan as I attempt to swat them away, “tell them to leave me alone. They’re freezing.”

He stops his carving and looks at me curiously, tilting his head to the side slightly as his hazel eyes rake over me. “And why would I do that? They’re perfectly fine where they’re at.”

I send him an annoyed glare before I climb to my feet and walk towards the tent for another night of restlessness.

“Where are you going, sweet girl?”

“What have I said about calling me that?”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with an intense gaze and an almost feral smirk.

“And where does it look like I’m going? To bed obviously,” I say in a clipped tone and gesture to the tent. 

“No you’re going to lay there and flop around until the crack of dawn. Come here.” The shadows imprinted onto me do their singer’s bidding and push me back towards him. 

“Excuse me!”

He cuts off what was inevitably going to be a tepid attempt at a lecture from me. “Enough of that. Come sit next to me.”

With the shadows wrapped tightly around me and pulling at me, I don’t exactly have a choice but follow their lead. They finally ease up when I’m sitting beside him, almost shoulder to shoulder and he offers me a slice of apple. 

“What’s that look for?” he asks when I look between him and the slice with a scrunched up expression.

“When did you become so commanding?”

“You have a problem with it?”

I roll my eyes at the way his plump lips are turned up in a smile and are parted to show off his perfect teeth. “I have a problem with males who think they can tell me what to do. You of all people should know that doesn’t go over well with me.”

“Maybe but I’m not just any other male now am I?”

“Yes you are.”

I go to take the slice but he pulls it away, clicking his tongue at me. “Open your mouth, pretty girl,” he murmurs to me and I know it’s a challenge designed to test my resolve.

The nickname and his low timbre sets something ablaze in me and I know I stand no chance in beating my him. His win comes in the form of my lips parting to allow the sticky sweet slice to greet my awaiting tongue. He tracks my every movement, intently watching as its juice wets my lips and my tongue cleans it up.

“It’s my job to anticipate people’s next move but you?” Azriel says with a shake of his head and goes back to carving pieces out of his half eaten apple. “Just when I think I have you figured out, you do the exact opposite of what I expected. It should frustrate me but it doesn’t. Why do you think that is, sweet girl?”

“Maybe you’re bad at your job,” jumps out with my breathy voice and he blinks at me with an arched brow. “Perhaps it’s for the better if you find a new profession or stop treating me like one of your targets. You’ll stop disappointing yourself that way.”

“Now I never said that it was disappointing.” he chides and grabs my chin when I try to look away from his soul blazing gaze, “It keeps me on my toes, never really knowing what you’re going to do.” 

“You really are like every other male; needing to be challenged but not enough to make you feel lesser. You all have this need to control.” I whisper and let my gaze fall to his lips briefly, “I’ve already told you and quite frankly shown you that I’m not one to fall in line because a pretty face told me to.”

He searches my face for a hint of humor as he holds me in place. Testing me, he leans into me and when I think he’s going to kiss me, I let my eyes flutter closed only for him to draw back. From beneath my lashes, I see a feral smirk break across his face. 

“You think I have a pretty face?”

“That’s what you took from that?”

“Answer the question.”

“You’re infuriating beautiful and I hate looking at…”

Azriel silences me with a hungry kiss, our hands desperately searching for something to hold onto as our tongues collide against each other and drink in the other’s sweet taste. His lips are soft as they slide against my own while his hands feel jagged tangling into my hair. Cold metal presses into my scalp and I can’t say that I’m surprised he didn’t drop his beloved truth teller when he launched himself at me.

My hands find their place on his chest and the nape of his neck, slowly making their way into his mess of dark waves. The soft noises that rumble through his chest when I tug at his hair emboldened me and I sharply pull, forcing him to let me lead.

He does for a moment. That is until he is shadows that are still wound around me, something I forgot about, trace over the raised lines of my hidden wings. A whimper falls from me and Azriel hungrily laps it up using his shadows to drag me into his lap. My arms wind around his neck while letting out a surprised noise when I feel his confined cock against me. We break away and that’s when I realize my breathing is so heavy that I’m almost panting but Azriel is no better. He tilts his head up again to playful nip at my bottom lip, trapping it between his teeth before letting it go and kissing the red mark on it.

I hear myself whine at the loss of his lips and heated touch but I can’t find it in myself to care. I’m slipping into the abyss of lust that is between us and pulling tight at our bond and it feels absolutely amazing. 

He’s growing cockier by the minute much to my dismay. “If you’re this flushed after a few kisses, I can’t imagine how you’d look after I’m done with you.”

With a flash of silver in the fire light, the truth teller is safely tucked away again and both of his hands come to grip my hips. He dips his head to plant wet kisses across my jaw and whispers against the supple skin of my neck, “but tell me, pretty girl, do you want that?”

Words feel pointless, coiled in my throat and morph into something else while they come out in the form of broken whines. 

“Come on, beautiful, use your words.”

I quietly mumble “yes” and let out a high pitched whine when he sucks a bruise over my pulse. He mumbles something like “good girl” as his shadows engulf us and my back hits the cold mat of my bed roll with him slotted between my legs. 

Azriel continues his attack on my neck and I lean my head to the side to grant him more access but not without teasing him. “Couldn’t walk ten feet?”

He runs his tongue up the column of my neck. “Are you complaining?” he shots back with a bold flick of his tongue of my ear lobe before taking it between his lips, sucking and nibbling on it. 

“N..no,” I try to say as my body shudders when he starts to roll his hips into mine. 

I vaguely hear his voice but I’m too caught up in the feeling of his clothed cock pressing into my core. A forceful grip on my jaw drags my attention to the male above me; his wings are flared behind him while his shadows dance around the room and curl against the both of us. Those gorgeous dark waves fall around his sculptured face and he gazes down at me with those hooded hazel eyes. 

“Keep talking to me, sweet girl. I want to hear you no matter what, understand?

I barely nod and it’s not good enough for him. He squeezes my cheeks and doubles down on his original question, “I said ‘keep talking’. I need you to tell me that you understand. That you’ll stop me if it gets to be too much.”

“Yes! Gods, yes Azriel I understand!” I moan out, already running out of patience as I arch my back and roll my hips into his, matching his pace as best as I can. 

“That’s a good girl,” he whispers before continuing his trail of blazing kisses down my neck.

I go to drag my hands down his neck but his shadows are quick to grab them and pin them above my head. He chuckles at my frustration and feeble attempts to pull my hands free as he sits back on his hunches.

With only the fire light from outside to illuminate the tent, Azriel looks like a god above me. The power that radiates off of him commands the flames to perfectly bathe every inch of his taunt and towering body. His blue siphons shimmer in the dim light, reflecting my own pathetic state back at me. If I could I would’ve turned over so I wouldn’t have to see the satisfaction on his face as he gazes down at me completely at his mercy. He makes a disapproving sound as he gently takes a leg in his hand, caressing my thigh and calf before stopping at my boots.

“You’re not going shy on me now are you, beautiful?” He murmurs against my ankle, kissing each inch he reveals as he tugs off my boot.

“Fuck you,” I choke out when more shadows join in. They replace his warm touch when he’s moved on, kneading where his hands once were and licking at the places his kisses have grown cold. Being so thoroughly surrounded by him is intoxicating and I find myself going dumb before he’s even touched me.

“Already doing that, sweetheart.”

Gods this fucking male.

Azriel repeats his actions with my other leg and moves to my pants next. We watch each other with half lidded eyes as he takes his time unlacing them and deliberately brushes his long fingers against the bare skin at my waist. When he starts the painstakingly slow motion of pulling them down my thighs, the damned shadows crawl up my torso. They drag his sweater and my thin long sleeve up my body, helping me to pull it off before tugging my bra down to shamelessly play with my breasts, groping and kneading at the tender skin.

The Shadowsinger’s eyes are blown wide, leaving only black in the place of the golden hazel as he watches them play with me. A long sinful moan is pulled from me when the shadows tug at my nipples and it seems to snap him back to reality. He pulls my pants off completely and inhales sharply when he sees the rapidly growing wet spot on my underwear. His eyes flutter closed as the scent of my arousal invades his nostrils and when they open, a fire is blazing in them. He looks devastatingly handsome staring at that spot like it’s the first glimpse of water he’s seen after weeks in the desert. 

“Beautiful, absolutely beautiful,” he mumbles more to himself while he slides his hands up to my knees and lowers himself to lay on his stomach before me. Another pair of shadows wrap around my thighs, preventing them from closing when he lightly runs his fingers over my clothed core. I writhe and struggle against my restraints with a loud huff, halting the male between my legs. 

 “Talk to me, sweet girl,” he asks in an affectionate tone, searching my face as he rests his head against the inside of my thigh. The same soothing sensation strokes at our bond and my face flushes even more as I search for the words. “What do you want?”

Light kisses are littered on my thigh as I stutter, “more… I need more.”

“More what?” he asks, forcing me to say exactly what I want. As he speaks he les his warm and wet tongue drag across the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. “More what?” he asks again with a mischievous smirk taunt on his bitten lips as he licks directly over my covered slit.

“Touch me more, Az please.” It feels terribly pathetic to beg him and I’d cover my face if the shadows weren’t tightening their hold on my wrists. 

My mate immediately drags his thick tongue over the thin fabric covering my core and mouthes at me through it. He circles my hole before flicking the tip of his tongue over my clit. Desperate please build in my chest while my brain turns to mush having him so close to where I need him but just out of reach. It’s beyond frustrating and he knows it, smirking and chuckling at me in my disheveled and starving state.

Whimpers and whines grow into loud pleas and sinfully wanton moans as he works his tongue over the soaked fabric. After about the fourth time he nearly touches my clit, I start to realize that my wordless begging isn’t going to spur him into removing the offending piece of clothing. He wants words but I won’t let myself beg again just yet.

So I try the bond, sending every ounce of lust and desire that I have down to him. His only reaction is a slight quiver of his wings and an airy chuckle against my core. 

“Nice try, sweetheart but that wasn’t what i told you to do. Remind me, what did I tell you?”

He’s completely stopped using his tongue and has moved to dragging his fingers up and down my slit.

I throw my head back with a growl at the loss of stimulation. My heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest and I squeeze my eyes shut, willing it to calm down so I can think straight. The shadows are quicker than me and stop any thinking I may have done with another harsh pinch to each nipple.

“Until you can tell me exactly what you need, I’m perfectly happy to keep bringing you to the edge over and over again.”

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath. “Fuck me with your tongue, fingers, I don’t care. Just fucking get on with it already, Az.” 

“Now was that so hard?”

I go to snap at him however I’m cut short by him kissing the juncture of my thigh before he pulls my underwear to the side and lightly laps at my soaked folds. He starts slow, kitten licking and teasing me to gauge my reactions. With the shadows around my thighs, I don’t have a lot of range but I’m able to move my hips against his face enough to get some relief.

Azriel takes pity on me and his tongue, wide and rough, finds my clit the moment he licks a decisive strip up my core. His mouth becomes glued to me as he brings me closer and closer to the edge. That feeling in my lower stomach grows tighter when he sucks on my clit and pulls back to blow on it. Throwing my head back, moans fall unhindered and my hips start to move wildly against his mouth.

More shadows find their way around me, caressing and kneading everywhere they can touch. Some tangle into my hair, pulling at the strands while others grope my ass only adding to the bliss that is Azriel’s expert tongue working me into oblivion. 

He brings a hand up to let his fingers circle my hole, collecting my wetness before plunging two fingers in. He smirks against me after my hips falter and he slips his free arm under me, holding my hips up so he can bury his face into me even further. I whine and mewl as Azriel circles my clit and flicks it in time to the come hither motion he’s making with his fingers inside me.

“Az…Az, oh gods, I’m gonna..gonna cum,” I cry out. His shadows double down on their groping and massaging while he doesn’t let up eating me out like a man starved. He watches my orgasm crash over me through half lidded eyes and I try as best as I can to keep eye contact however my own eyes feel heavier than ever before. 

Azriel whispers words of reassurances and praises against my heated skin as he kisses his way back up to me. The shadows around my thighs loosen and draw light circles where their bruising grip once was. The ones on my wrists relax and caress the sore muscles from being held above my head.

“You did so well, sweet girl. So good for me,” he mumbles between labored breaths that mirror mine. I nod in agreement, cupping his face and pulling him down for a much slower kiss than before.

“So perfect, made for me…taking everything I give you,” he mutters against my lips. His wings shake out above us and mine feel like they’re about to do the same when one of the shadows dances over where they’re melding into my body.

He lets his body settle against me, once again letting his hips press into mine but now it’s unbearable. Im still sensitive and the feeling of his leather covered cock against me drags broken sobs from my chest. Like the teasing male he is, Azriel shushes me against my lips as one of his hands finds my thigh and urges my leg over his hip. With my leg around his waist, he moves us at a pace that makes us both moan into our kiss. He drops his hand next to my head while the other comes to rest on my throat, tilting my head back when he pulls away and drags his thumb over my puffy bottom lip.

“Such a pretty mouth,” he growls, staring lustfully at the way that my tongue swirls around the tip of his thumb. I suck at it and he pushes between my lips, allowing me to work it with my tongue like I would his cock. His eyes darken when I release it with a pop and a string of saliva connects us.

A heavy weight constricts my chest and pushes all of the air out of breath thanks to the tsunami of burning desire that Azriel sends to me. “Open up, sweet girl.” 

With our hips grinding slowing down and moving into a lazy, occasional jolt of pleasure, I obey. Without being told, I rest my tongue on my bottom lip, a silent agreement to what he’s about to do.

Azriel’s cock twitches against me as he spits into my mouth and I swallow it with a satisfied smirk. He curses under his breath and his cock twitches again.

And this is when we find ourselves in a rather unfortunate situation; he’s fully clothed while I’m bare save for my bra that’s been pulled under my breasts.

My pawing at his chest gives him the hint and he leans back to quickly rid himself of his leathers while his shadows keep me entertained. They flick and pinch at my pebbled nipples while sneaking down to rub me through my underwear.

The moment his clothes are off, I push myself up and climb into his lap to wrap myself around him. I kiss him like he’s the air that I need and he matches me in pace and passion.

Droplets of sweat race down his broad tattooed chest and his hair is messy and tangled. His arms, perfect matches to his chest, broad, muscular and tattooed are wrapped around me, keeping me in place as he ruts into me. He rocks his aching cock against my barely covered puffy and oversensitive clit while we devour one and other. His breath hitches in his throat when I grind down on him and my nails scrap against the base of his wings. 

“Do…do that again,” he whimpers into our kiss and I happily oblige.

I start with lightly dragging my nails against the base again before moving up the ridge of his wings. The barely there touch is enough to make him groan out and break our kiss to throw his head back in pleasure. I take my chance to assault his neck with my own kisses and bites when I repeat the motions to his wings. His hips stutter under me as my delicate touch combined with the hardness of his aching cock become too overwhelming.

Azriel groans out, frustrated that there’s still a layer of thin fabric separating us and seconds later, I feel the cold tip of the truth teller slice through my underwear. His shadows remove them from between us while he holds my hips in a bruising grip to rub my wetness against him. Back and forth, he drags the head of his cock through my folds, stealing desperate moans from my swollen lips. 

“Az,” I whine as I feel his thick tip catch against my clit, “please Az.”

He coos to me as if he’s being sweet as he continues to torture me. “Please what, sweet girl?”

“Fuck me Azriel,” comes out in broken sobs when he lines himself up and snaps his hips up, fully sheathing his thick cock in my warm heat. He waits for me to adjust to his size, only moving when I wiggle against him. He sets a brutal pace, fucking up into me in calculated and determined thrusts. The near painful hold he had on me is grounding as he pumps his dick into me and I cry out as pleasure starts to build into a second orgasm.

He pulls out only to guide me lay on my side to the bed roll and drags me against his chest, slipping in from behind. Wrapping one heavily tattooed muscular arm around my neck, he lets the other come to wrap around my middle and play with my puffy clit. The corded muscles are flexing as he holds me in place against him, ensuring that I have no choice but to take his thick cock. 

“I want everyone in Velaris to hear you,” he grunts against my ear as he sets a cruel pace from behind me. Downright sinful sounds fall from my permanently open mouth and his own beautiful sounds fill my ears when my core throbs and clenches around him.

“You can be louder, pretty girl,” he urges me while tightening his already unyielding grip around my neck. My hands sink into his arm, leaving red marks in their wake as I cry out, body trembling and writhing against him.

I tilt my head back to rest against his shoulder as we continue to move against each other. His cock drags against my walls in a painful way and my eyes flutter shut from the white hot pleasure it brings me. I’m pulsing around him and pleading with him to come with me. 

“Shush, pretty girl. Let me take care of you. Come for me, beautiful. I know you need to,” his breath feels like an inferno in my ear and I involuntarily moan at his praise. I know I can’t possibly be seen as anything other than a mess; tears streak my face and sweat collects in my hairline but none of that stops Azriel, my mate, from praising every inch of me. 

The last sharp thrust and caress of his tongue against my neck are what push me over the edge as my hands dig into his arm. His own release is almost upon him as his thrusts falter and he goes to pull out but my hand darts behind me and grips his hip.

“Come…with me.”

A dark chuckle rumbles through his chest, “you want me to come in you, pretty girl? You want me to mark you with my cum? Make it so every male who ever comes near you smells me? Is that what you want?”

“Yes, gods yes yes…please…come with me…please come in me.”

My begging sparks him to snap his hips even harder than before as he works us through our orgasms together. Both sweet and humiliating words continue to pour from his mouth between his kisses as he alternates between licking and biting at my lips. His arm loosens around my neck and shifts to cup my shoulder instead while the other grasps my hip.

“You did so well, sweet girl. So proud of you, took me so well,” he murmurs, nuzzling his face into my neck while our highs start to come down and our breathing slows. Finally our bond feels content; overjoyed that we are together and basking in the raw affection we have for each other.

I know that there is a part of it that won’t be satisfied until we accept it, until I accept him and offer him a meal that I made just for him. 

My heart skips a beat when that thought crosses my mind however this time it’s out of panic. What if’s and past traumas flash in my mind, no doubt flooding the bond with seemingly unwarranted anxiety. 

I try to pull away from Azriel but he holds me as he whispers softly from behind me, “Stay with me, my sweet girl. You’re crashing and you need affection right now. Let me help you through it.”

Panic sinks its talons into me even further, causing my heart to race, my breathing to grow too fast, the feeling of slipping into thick water without a way out to overcome. Tears spring from my eyes again and his voice sounds muffled even though it’s right next to me. 

“Breath with me.” His chest rises and falls against my back and my body falls into sync with it. The bond fills me with nothing but adoration and pure contentment, pushing away the crashing low I had begun to slip into.

“Good, just follow my breathing, just like that. You did so well, I’m so proud of you. Keep breathing with me and let me take care of you, beautiful. Let me give you the affection you need.”

For the first time ever in my life possibly, I feel safe. I feel safe in the arms of this mysterious Shadowsinger. I feel protected, cared for, and loved by Azriel, my mate.

[satorubrain]

Hey there! Anon with the confusing request. Basically Gojo is very extroverted and loud, and I wanted reader to be more introverted. I wanted some sort of fluff scenario with him and reader. Maybe she’s insecure because she’s more reserved.

So basically just Gojo with a more introverted reader. Someone who’s not as loud/obnoxious as he is. Does that make sense? I’m sorry I’m bad with words.

"okokok" "lalala"

Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Reader.

Tags: Fluff!

Synopsis: Gojo with an introverted s/o.

A/N: OMGG NO WORRIES ANON!! I was just confused about it last time and lord you couldn't have worded this req any better so dw you make perfect sense :D. And i hope you enjoy this! <3

"NO WAY YOU BOTH ARE DATING??" Nobara shrieked in utter disbelief while looking at Gojo in disgust at the sight of Satoru squishing your cheeks, showering your face with kisses while crying out loud his "love yous" in between every peck. If you weren't smiling she would've thought Gojo was harassing you. Honestly, how could this not shock her? You were so different. You were calm and collected and him? He was loud and obnoxious.

"Yeah" you answer. "We have been dating for..." you pause knowing Satoru would want to answer this

"FIVE YEARS!!!" He responded excitedly with a grin adorning his face as raises his left hand stretching out his fingers.

"I'm sure you have many questions, my dear but somehow we get along really well" You quell her all unasked questions and it indeed is remarkably evident that you both do indeed flow together harmoniously despite your clashing personalities.

Thinking about it you have always been like a match made in heaven ever since the day you crossed each other's paths.

Satoru is Satoru and his second name is annoying. Even on the day you met he introduced himself with a cocky grin and loudly enough you were sure the whole world could hear his name. But instead of finding that annoying, your brain malfunctioned thanks to his smile and made you think he's rather cute.

And it didn't help how he would chatter and talk your ears off whenever you were having stressful thoughts, distracting you from your worries. Him dropping simply little compliments- like "heyy good work y/n!" "oh- you look extra cute today!" "you take great care of students!" calling you "my trusted and reliable co-worker, y/n" when introducing you to someone he knows. Some way, somehow, he managed to get past all your fears and make a house in your heart.

Seeing how lost you were in your thoughts he decided to drag you out of it by placing a peck on your lips, earning a "gross" remark from Nobara, flustering you in the process.

"Do you know what's my greatest achievement?" he questioned Nobara while still clinging to you. But before she could even take a guess he announced proudly "it was making y/n confess!!"

"Oh-" you giggle, a blush tinting your cheeks recalling as you told how it went down. "It was him, again, somehow distracting me away from my overthinking replacing with his chatter. And I absent mindedly spoke."

"god satoru, i love you" much to your embarrassment, Satoru enacted your dreamy tone perfectly. Smacking his hand lightly at your mimicry, flustered, causing him to giggle and nobara laughed at your silly bickering.

But in reality, the situation was far worse for you. Your babble had brought his nonsensical talks to a pause for a couple of seconds before he dramatically gasped while covering his mouth.

"Satoru you did NOT hear that." you uttered. You felt faint as blood rushed to your head. You just wanted to bury yourself and die. DIE ALREADY.

"oh my god yes i did" he exclaimed.

"this cannot be happening" you murmured as you got up, hiding your face in your hand as you tried to flee the scenario. But he was quick on his feet too. Getting up as he extended his arm to hold yours before pulling you back and caging you in between him and the desk. Gently cupping your cheek, to make you look at him with a slight tremble of his hands.

"Hey, listen...." for some reason his confidence evaporated and he felt like an anxious teen but that didn't stop him from speaking his mind. "I like you too okay? I genuinely appreciate how you always tolerate me and my gibberish, how you always put up with my antics happily- i think our feelings are mutual here, alright? So, well, allow me to ask you out.... please?" it was unlikely for him to sound soft... and to perhaps plead? But what can he do? He was a man in love who had to shoot his shot NOW. And you were equally in love.

"Yes please, i- i would love that!" you reply nodding, feeling a bit giddy but better than before. After all, you trusted him and with Satoru, everything will turn out fine you think.

And not once did you regret your silly mistake.

[moonshine-nightlight]

Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Part Thirty

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding  that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing’s Wrong with Dale Chapter 30

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5][Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten]  [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve]  [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two][Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four][Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] Part Thirty [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

You blink at the woman for a few long seconds, trying to comprehend her words. “Excuse me? Did you just say Lord Dale has called off the wedding? Our wedding?”

“I…” The maid is at a loss for words in the face of your incredulity. She swallows. “Yes, my lady.”

There’s a rushing sound in your ears, like wind roaring. You stay perfectly still, your face blank as you try to think. That is not possible. It’s not. How could he do something like that? Why would he? You’d dealt with so many surprises, jumped over every obstacle, and handled every challenge. Why instead did you feel as though you had survived a trip at sea only to find your ship crashing into the pier while within sight of home? You feel numb.

Perhaps you are making some sort of expression because the woman grows paler. “I’m sure it is simply pre-wedding jitters, my lady,” she hurries to reassure you. “Lord Archibald will have him seeing sense before you can blink.”

“Best to continue getting you ready,” Ms Dearden says as she lays out your corded underskirts. You appreciate her practiced dismissal even if you fear there’s more at play here than she’s aware of. “Young men these days always get cold feet. He’ll be over it soon enough.”

“Yes, of course.” Your own voice seems distant to your ears, but your words are enough for Callalily’s maid to resume work on your hair. At some point she finishes and you’re helped into your underskirts. Your mind stays blank as you try to conceive of reasons for him to do such a thing beyond tiring of you and this whole facade. Distant imaginings of what your life would be like without the wedding crumble to fog. 

You’ve been so committed and focused on today that the news feels nonsensical more than alarming. How could the wedding not be happening? Did you just speak with your sisters? Has every moment of the last few weeks been in service of it? Are you not now suddenly dressed in your lovely yellow wedding gown? The person in the hand mirror looks as though they are marrying today.

The door flings open and Steward Bilmont hurries in despite the reproach from the women in the room at both his presence and the dramatics of his entrance. 

You only need to look at his face to understand that the situation with Dale has not improved since the first maid broke it to you. He opens his mouth to speak, but something about your countenance, or perhaps your lack of reaction, must inform him that you know something of the situation.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him, my lady,” Bilmont says, wringing his hands. “He’s not been this unreasonable in weeks. Lord Archibald has refused to put a stop to anything, but Lord Dale refuses to see reason. He’s barred the door to his chambers after Lord Archibald wouldn’t accept his words.”

“I see.” With careful fingers you put down the small hand mirror and begin to stand, adjusting your skirts as you do so.

It’s Miss Adir who asks, her voice filled with trepidation, “My lady?” 

“Excuse me,” you say, an undeniable calm spreading through your veins, as you cross the room towards the door. 

“Where are you going?” Steward Bilmont asks as you brush by him.

You realize your decision as you reply, “To speak with my betrothed. Please continue preparations without me.”

The maid who brought the news is the one who speaks up, as your hand closes around the door knob. “My lady, I don’t think—”

“Continue without me,” you cut her off, eyes snapping, because finally some emotion has made itself known to you and it is anger. You’ve worked so hard and been through so much. Dale thinks he can just put an end to it all mere hours before you’re to be wed? No.

“My lady…” Bilmont tries, his hand settling gently on your arm. He’s almost wincing, the look in his eyes resigned. As though he thought everything had been going too well and this was the inevitable shoe that dropped. 

You shake his hand off. “If Lord Dale wishes to call off our wedding,” some of that anger finally bleeds into your voice and you see the surprise in Bilmont’s eyes, “he shall tell me so to my face. Get out of my way.”

He obligingly steps back, hands hanging back at his sides. You don’t bother to observe the others' reactions, opening the door quickly, and letting it shut heavily behind you.

You walk briskly down the hall and towards the Northridge family bedrooms. No one else, servant or noble alike, crosses your path as you head that way. Not until you’re closer. You hear shouting and decide to peek around the corner, wanting to get the scope of the situation you’re walking into. 

“—utter foolishness!” Grandfather is shouting at Dale’s closed door with two guards flanking him. He bangs his fist on the door for good measure. “Do you wish for me to find your Grandmother? I’ve kindly not informed her of your idiocy, but I shall have to if you persist!”

There’s no reply from the other side of the door, not even a sound. Grandfather rattles the door knob to no avail, but doesn’t try anything further with the solid wood door.

He groans in frustration and turns to the guards. “I want to know the instant he leaves this room and if he does not within the hour, I shall have to inform Lady Deidre as promised.”

“Yes, my lord,” the guards chorus looked properly cowed by the threat, even if it isn't aimed at them.

Grandfather turns dramatically enough you see more of the original Dale in him than you thought possible and storms off. The guards take up posts on either side of the door, not baring it, but still present enough that you stay where you are. You’ve no desire to speak to them or to shout at Dale with them nearby.

You frown, unsure why but something doesn’t sit right with you the longer you look down the silent corridor. It seems…empty, or perhaps still, in a manner that makes you feel as if you are not where you should be. Not that your presence is unwanted, but as if you are lost. 

You study the scene more closely and find your eyes drifting towards the bright sunlight streaming through the windows and the faint light coming from under Dale’s bedroom door. After a second, you realize what is wrong with the light and shadow—both are completely still. Before, the maid had said both of them were shouting and you’ve never heard this Dale raise his voice except in a physical fight. If he were truly upset, or at least strongly emotional, there should be some evidence in the shadows, some unnatural movement.

You chance another glance down the corridor, but it looks utterly ordinary. As your gaze sweeps from further down where Grandfather disappears around a corner and then back closer to yourself they snag on the stairway down towards the studies and other meeting rooms. There’s no movement, but the shadows are deep and dark. There are no windows there, that stairway is more utilitarian than for show like the grand staircases in other places throughout the house, so that’s plenty of reason for the darkness, but…

You move as quietly and fluidly as you can towards that staircase, hoping not to attract the guards notice. You don’t want to talk to anyone except Dale. You don’t know what Grandfather would try to say to you given he is clearly trying to keep this news contained. He stopped attempting to prove anything with you since the attack, but you’re still not completely sure of what he thinks of you. Keeping your skirts just high enough off the floor and grateful your house slippers are soft and quiet, you make it to the stairs without the guards' notice.

Your footsteps are nearly silent as you hastily make your way down the flight of stairs. You’ve never given much thought to the amount of light that fills it, but surely it wasn’t this dark in previous mornings. Or is that simply your imagination? Is it just your hope that it means you can find Dale and talk some sense into him?

You peek out at the bottom, looking for anyone in this area of the house who might question one of the couple getting married wandering about alone. No one is present. An eerie silence permeates the corridor and like the staircase, it seems darker than it should be. You step out, eyes on the window that lets light in, but seems outnumbered by shadows.

Dale’s personal study is off a smaller side corridor from this hallway, in its own small tower. You think the upper floor might connect to his bedroom. Then there is the underground room, the real reason you believe the original Dale had requested his current quarters and this study.

There’s an oppressive aura that thickens the air as soon as you turn the corner and it builds the closer you get to his study’s door. You imagine that's partially responsible for the lack of others in this area, which in some ways you’re grateful for. You also manage to draw on its presence as fuel for your anger at such obvious overflow from his nature. The shadows under the door ripple, as if it were night and a lighted candle was guttering in the breeze, unremarkable except for the fact that it's closer to noon.

Cautiously, you reach out for the door knob. Grasping it firmly in your hand, you find that it's not locked as you had feared. The knob turns without effort and the door swings inside to reveal Dale’s study. The flickering shadows solidify as you step inside, eyes searching for Dale. 

You find him quickly enough, a trunk half packed of books next to him. Somehow you don’t think they are being gathered for your wedding trip. He’s by the window, back to you, but you can see tension in every line of his body. All the breath desserts you at the sight of him. All the words you could say dry up in your mouth. The door shuts with an audible click behind you.

“WOULD—” Dale whirls, his frustrated voice cuts off the second his eyes land on you. Abruptly all the anger in his face leaves him. Instead he practically deflates, merely gaping at you. To your surprise, he spins away from you. “What are you doing here?” he asks, voice pitched higher than usual. “I thought we were not to see each other until—” He doesn’t finish his sentence, his shoulders slumping.

You take another few steps into the room and clear your throat. “Yes, well, I’m fairly certain that the betrotheds laying eyes on one the morning of the wedding is of no consequence if there isn’t to be a wedding, hm?” You’re grateful that you’ve rediscovered some of your anger and your frustration to draw on for the strength to weather this conversation.

“I…” Dale can’t seem to think of an adequate response even as he refuses to turn around. 

Your heart constricts in your chest at this confirmation. “So it’s true?” You hadn’t realized how much you were hoping despite all the evidence to the contrary that once you found Dale he’d explain how it was all one big misunderstanding. “You’ve called off our wedding.”

He leans his head against the wall and says nothing.

“Dammit, Dale!” The words jump out of you, louder than you’ve ever spoken to Dale. “Look at me,” you say, your voice breaking. “If you’re going to do this, you’re going to look at me as you do so.”

Slowly, like a man condemned, he turns. Dale swallows, looking profoundly guilty. He murmurs your name, but you refuse to let his soft voice sway you and merely stare straight back at him. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

“My reasons are complex, but unchangeable.” His words are rote and his voice wooden. You imagine he said something like this to Grandfather. “I apologize.”

“I don’t understand,” you say as plainly as you can, tired of talking around topics and pretending to be sure when you aren’t. “Complex? How complex can they be that you won’t even enumerate them for me now. Please explain, justify, anything.” Dale just stands there and that anger surges through your blood. You take another step forward, your voice as stern as you can make it, “You owe it to me. Tell me why you are calling off our future.”

“I…” Dale starts before his blue eyes meet yours squarely for the first time since you arrived and he appears to shrink in on himself. He sighs a deep sigh, looking weary. “I could say any number of reasons, but you’re correct. They’re just excuses.” He pulls himself back up and braces himself. “In truth, I simply cannot bear to deceive you any longer.”

“Deceive me? About what? What can you not have told me that would cause our wedding to be canceled?” Panicked, wild scenarios begin to fly through your mind. “Did you marry someone else on your travels and they’ve arrived today? Have you been caught smuggling? Are you a wanted man? Did something happen this morning?”

Dale looks taken aback. He blinks at you. “Wha-? No, no—none of that.”

You feel some exasperation mixing with your frustration as he continues to talk around whatever he’s worried about. You’ve done this dance every day for weeks now and you are so, so tired of it. “Then what? I thought,” you swallow, hating how small your voice has gotten. You clear your throat and try again. “I thought you wanted this—wanted our marriage.”

“I do!” The words burst out of him, surprising you. How can he say so when he’s the one who is ruining it. He continues more quietly, as if the volume was what shocked you, “I do, but you don’t know…” He trails off again, looking away.

“Then tell me,” you plead, taking another step closer. Only another step or two and you could touch him. You could try in vain to keep him from leaving you. 

“I,” he starts, looking at you and away again. “A few weeks ago, there was a… I mean to say that I,” he begins again, obviously having difficulty getting the words out. At least you can see he’s truly making the attempt this time. “Well, not me, but he…” Is this something the original Dale had done that was coming back to ruin everything? That was what you hoped for, in a strange way, because at least it would mean that this Dale still might want you. That whatever prompted this was out of his control. That maybe you could fix whatever it was. “I care about you,” he finally says, his eyes bright, bright blue as they meet yours squarely once more and your breath catches at the genuine sentiment in his voice, “more than I ever thought I would, but I’m not who you think I am.” He takes another deep breath and says bluntly, “Dale of Northridge died weeks ago and then I possessed his body.”

Everything seems to screech to a halt as he stares at you, his eyes pleading with you to understand. Aside from the relief at finally hearing him say it out loud, you don’t. Understand, that is. “Yes…” you say slowly, nodding. “And…?” You’re still waiting for him to complete the thought. To tell you what he’s been building to. Prompting him seemed to help before. “Did you eat someone a few weeks ago and have just now been discovered? Did something you forgot come back to cause problems now?”

“What?” Now Dale looks nearly as confused as you feel. It makes you want to scream in frustration because he’s the one doing this—he has to be the one that knows what is going on. “No, I don’t think you understand.” He talks more slowly, like you’re not hearing his words right. “I’m not human, I’m a demon.” He once again appears to brace himself for your reaction, but you still don’t get it.

Maybe you aren’t hearing him right, but that’s never happened before. Is this some new demonic power or collateral influence? “Yes, I know,” you reply just as deliberately. You enunciate as you ask, “But what did you do that means we can not be wed?”

“You must not be comprehending my words.” He seems to be aware of the issue, getting frustrated himself. He runs his fingers through his long dark hair before he takes on a consoling tone, “I know it is a great shock to find out your fiance is now a demon—”

“What?” You stare at him because is that what he thinks you are getting caught on? You put your hands on your hips and can’t say anything except, “Of course, I know you’re a demon.”

“What?” He leans back, eyes wide. “No.” Dale shakes his head. “How could you know that?”

“Did you think you’ve been doing an exemplary job of hiding it?” The response bursts out of you before you can help it. Because no, this cannot be the conversation you’re having. It can’t be. “How about we begin with how the human Dale was obviously interested in demonology and black market dealing. How excited he was the night before this,” you gesture to Dale’s entire body, “happened. How sick you were after and your memory issues. The fact that you occasionally have more eyes than is proper and your influence on shadows and the claws. You’ve had a tail at times, for stars’ sake!”

“Oh.” Dale’s voice is small and his eyes big as he stares down at you, clearly at a loss for words.

You’ve seemingly found a well of words with which to rebuke him. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to conceal your nature?” You take a step forward, unable to contain your ire and incredulity. He takes one back. “It is not as easy as you must believe to distract people from wriggling shadows and additional eyes and all the strange things you say. Did you really believe I didn’t know? That you were hiding it that well?”

“Well, I don’t know.” Dale sounds more flustered than you’ve ever heard him. “Humans are so oblivious most of the time!”

“Not that oblivious!”

Dale throws his hands up. “Well, no one’s instigated a purge, have they? And Grandfather and Grandmother don’t know, do they?”

Your heart rate is slowly returning to normal and you grudgingly admit, “No. Although Grandfather did think I’d cursed you for a couple weeks.”

“He thought you cursed me?” 

“Yes!” you reply, exasperated that he didn’t even know. “After the hunt, where you did light knows what with the boar, he became convinced that I had cursed you or ensnared you with my ‘potions’. Perhaps while you were still recovering from your supposed illness. As a supposed practitioner of dark ritual or maybe even a summoner, he kept trying to exorcise me, which I had to make sure didn’t accidentally affect you.” When Dale just looks at you, obviously hearing this or putting the pieces together for the first time you can’t help, but feel as if you might be the one who has lost their mind. “You must remember when he practically threw a glass of holy water on us?”

Dale’s brow furrows. “…I did think that was a bit odd.”

You snort. “Yes, I would wager so.” Slowly, you realize you're laughing. You put a hand to your mouth but all it does is muffle the sound. Dale looks newly worried but you can’t stop. “I can’t believe you didn’t know that I knew.” Collapsing into a chair, you cover your face in your hands as you try to regain your composure. 

How is this happening? How had you managed to get so far along without realizing he didn’t know that you knew? Who does that say more about him or you?

After a moment or two, you sense him near you and he asks, “Are you alright?” He sounds so concerned, like he’s still worried the knowledge of what he is, even if it isn’t new to you, might be capable of breaking your mind or whatever he feared would happen.

“Yes, yes,” you finally sit back up, blinking in the light as you attempt to reassure him. “I will be. I simply need a moment.” Dale hesitates from where he’s leaning over you before turning to fetch a cup of water. Haltingly, he holds out to you. “Thank you,” you say as you wipe away the tears that had gathered in the corners of your eyes while laughing.

You sip it carefully as you pull the tattered remains of your composure around yourself once more. Dale watches you take the first couple of sips before he begins to pace in obvious agitation. He’s clearly waiting for you to finish the glass before saying whatever is so clearly on his mind. You’re content to take your time and make him wait after everything he’s put you through, seemingly without even realizing what you were doing.

After a minute, you set the glass down deliberately and Dale comes to a stop in front of you. “I don’t…” he starts to say before changing his mind. “If you know, then why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” you ask. He’s the one constantly doing incomprehensible things.

“Marrying me!” he says, rather emphatically, as though it should be obvious. He runs his hands through his hair. “Going through with this wedding! I don’t understand.” He sounds desperate to understand.

You feel of heat gather high on your cheeks, not having expected to have a light shown on your own actions so directly. “What do you mean? We’re betrothed. Getting married is the expected course of action.”

He gives you a flat look that says you’re not fooling him. “Try once more. I admit there were certain times where I did think you…” He looks at you, a distant look in his eyes as he remembers whatever particular instance. “Where I did think that you knew. Half a dozen times, I was sure you knew,” he continues, eyes intent once more, “but you didn’t do anything about it! You never revealed me or tried to exorcise me or even demand any sort of recompense for keeping it secret. You merely continued on as we had. You were still there, at my side.” He sighs and he looks so tired again. “And so I thought I must be wrong, that you couldn’t know.”

You're not sure what to say in the face of his conviction that you knowing what he is and you continuing to associate with him were so unlikely he’d discounted it out of hand. He made it sound like tolerating or using him was the most he’d expected. “I…”

“And you’re afraid of demons!” The words burst out of him. “So why would—?”

“I’m not afraid of you,” you reply because that’s certainly true. If the manner in which the shadows behind Dale are writhing in distress are any indication, the reassurance can’t hurt. You’re worried about how his nature makes life more complicated and what other people might do, but you’re long past the point of fearing he’d physically injure you on purpose.

“I heard you and Grandfather talking about Two,” Dale replies, as if that proves something. “How you feared them because of what they were. That night, when I remembered what I’d heard, I changed my mind again about what you knew.”

You stare at him before saying slowly, “Dale, I was afraid of Two because they were trying to kidnap and murder us. Their being a demon made them more dangerous, so yes, that made me fear them more than the others. You were who knows where fighting them on your own and I was worried about you.” If you thought Dale looked confused before, he looks downright confounded now. You keep talking, relishing in the opportunity to finally speak honestly about the attack, “However, you being a demon makes you stronger, which reassured me. I couldn’t say anything else because of Grandfather’s attitude, but I did not grow up in Northridge. I may not have met a demon before, but I didn’t live anywhere with the rigorous, studied suspicion and fear that Northridge cultivates.”

“The rest of the world is not Northridge,” Dale acknowledges having composed himself, “but it is not charitable in its view either. And it is not wrong in that opinion. I’ve been on the Surface before. No one has ever treated me in the manner you have after learning what I am. It was impossible to reconcile the person I got to know with someone who would want what humans understand demons to be.”

It’s not as though you can’t follow where he’s coming from. You haven’t told anyone else about what he is for a reason beyond just what Grandfather and Grandmother. You’d never even seriously considered telling any of your siblings because you know they wouldn’t understand. You want to ask further about the personal experience he’s alluding to but that isn’t what matters at this moment. “I…” You take a breath and finally say the obvious truth that you’ve never been able to say directly, even if you alluded to the sentiment right after the attack. “I do want to marry you.” Dale looks thunder-stuck. “Far more than I ever wanted to marry Dale before you took his place.”

“You do?” You’ve never seen Dale look so completely bewildered. “Why?”

“Because he was a selfish, mean, entitled prick.” The plain, honest words slip out without thought and Dale’s eyes widen. “Because you’re not. I like you.” You swallow and continue, “I think we get along well. I would have tolerated marrying him. You make me look forward to marriage.” 

It's a weight lifted to finally say those words, but they inevitably bring up your own confusion, your own lack of understanding of this Dale’s motivations and you can’t pass up the opportunity to ask. “But this is not just about why I have stuck to this facade. Why have you?” You still have no notion of what a demon might want. You’d only barely convinced yourself that Dale wanted this partnership since he was going along with it. He isn’t now. So perhaps you don’t know anything at all. “You could have stolen all you could from Dale and then disappeared to live your own life about a week after being here. You don’t have to be, to be,” you search for the words to define what’s he’s been doing, especially knowing he’s not been working toward the same end goal as you, “taking part in all these events, and playing dutiful grandson with Grandfather, Grandmother, or all the others.” You take a deep breath and add, with only a small shake to your voice, “Or being with me. Why are you still here?”

Dale opens his mouth, but no sound comes out as he stares at you.

Your shoulders slump in the face of his inability to give any reason, let alone a compelling one. “Although, I suppose there is no more wedding, is there? You’ve called it off, for all you haven’t left or told me why.” The prospect of the fall-out to come leaves you exhausted and hurt already. “I assume that leaving will be your next move.”

“No, no,” Dale starts to protest, “I…” Something changes in his expression as he searches for the words to say and this time, they come out steady, “Originally, I stayed because it was easy. I thought the best stroke of luck I’d had in my existence was when that imbecile broke himself opening an unguarded portal and I’d won the fight for his body.”

“Oh.” It had never even occurred to you that there might have been such an event. No matter what he does next, you’re grateful this demon is the one who won too.

“It’d been so long since I’d been up on the Surface,” Dale says wistfully. “I didn’t have a plan beyond getting here. I suppose, at first, I had considered taking what I could and leaving to make my own life. Except…” Your breath, your future hangs on that “except.” “I enjoy it here. Northridge, I mean, not just being out of the Depths. It’s somewhat impossible to know how much is experience and how much is borrowed memory, but I care for Grandfather and Grandmother. And for you. What is here in Northridge is more than I’d hoped for. A safe den, a loyal clan, a bountiful territory, an exemplary mate. Why would I go searching for better when it seemed I’d already found all I could want?”

“Truly?”

“Yes.”

Dale seems so sincere but that only brings your mind back to what prompted this conversation. “Then why are you trying to stop the wedding?”

“Because I thought you didn’t know!” he protests. “I told myself that since I’d never out-right lied to you, that was good enough.” He sighs. “But I realized if my only reason for not telling you who you were even marrying was because you might make a choice I didn’t want, that it was rather despicable.”

You can’t help, but ask the obvious. “Then why didn’t you simply tell me instead of calling the wedding off?”

“Because I’m selfish too,” Dale says, “and I couldn’t bear for you to know the truth and look at me like—.” He breaks off, shaking his head.

He’s returned to not meeting your eyes. Tension has crawled back up his spine to settle in his shoulders. His arms are crossed and he still seems one wrong word away from running. As if Dale’s still waiting for you to reject him. Perhaps you need to make up for all the times you didn’t speak up before. It seems like a fair concession if the hope blooming in your chest is proven true. 

You stand up from your chair, crossing the remaining distance between you and Dale. You place gentle hands on his forearms and they loosen under your touch. Carefully you push those crossed arms down until they hang by his sides where you can entwine your fingers with his. You take advantage of the height he has on you to look up into his eyes, not even surprised to find more than just two. “Well, I do know.” Those glowing blue eyes stare back down at you with the same hope reflected in them. “And I still want to marry you. If you do.”

Dale’s answer is immediate and earnest, “I do. I want that. I want the life we spoke of building more than anything else I’ve ever thought to want.”

You nod, a smile breaking out across your face. “Good. Go-” He cuts you off with a kiss, which starts out light but grows in pressure when you kiss him back. He tries to lift a hand to your face, but instead the back of your own hand still held in his touches your cheek instead. You pull back to see the pout he makes as he stares at his hand, obviously unsure of whether to let yours go or to keep holding on. 

The sound of a door opening above you followed by disgruntled voices pops the bubble of privacy you’d been enclosed in. You sigh. “While we still need to have a full conversation, I think it can wait for tonight at the least, yes?” Dale nods eagerly. “Then I must return to getting ready.”

“And I must assure Grandfather my ‘bout of childish insanity’ is indeed over. I’ve never seen him so furious.” At the look of surprise on your face, Dale smiles. “Regardless of what he thought before, Grandfather certainly thinks well of you now. He repeatedly told me that this would be the worst decision I ever made if I went through with it. He’s refused to even tell Grandmother, more out of fear for me than for her.”

High on emotion and relief, you giggle, too pleased that Grandfather spoke so strongly in your favor. “Did he?”

“Yes,” Dales says as he leads you to the study door. “And it's not as though I could provide a solid defense when I knew he was right.” He pulls you into a solid embrace before letting you go with a final kiss pressed to your forehead. 

You pull the door open without looking away from him, not able to resist asking for one last reassurance, “Your word that you will be there at the other end of the aisle?”

Dale smiles. “Yes, sana, I give you my word that I will let nothing stand in the way of our wedding, not even myself.”

[Part Thirty-One]

[yourmidnightlover]

i just saw a tiktok of the i carly episode where carly is running away from the nerdy guy bc he kept trying to kiss her and now i’m thinking bucky.

like you’re steve’s sister and you’ve always been seen as the stereotypical “annoying younger sister” while you have the stereotypical “crush on your brothers best friend.” no biggie.

he would come over all the time, hang out, watch movies, spend the night, whatever. sometimes he even came over just because he’s board and waiting on steve to get back from one of his courses or something.

he was nice to you though, as much as he liked to agree with steve that you were a nuisance. the soft smiles he gave you proved otherwise.

sometimes he would even invite you to watch movies with them, going as far as to wrapping his arm around you if you got scared during a particularly gruesome halloween movie marathon.

but there’s one day in particular where your government professor demanded your project be worked on in pairs and this guy was very persistent in being your partner. as soon as it was announced to be partner work, he was turning to you and writing down his number. you didn’t really get a chance to say no to the guy.

you think his name was john? Lord knows.

so there you were, upstairs in your room, trying to get a game plan for this treacherous project. well, the project itself wouldn’t be treacherous, but working with john would be.

“okay, so they want us to map out the different circuits in the-“

“yea, yea whatever,” he cut you off as you began writing in your notebook, taking your pencil and the paper to set it aside. “we both know that’s not why i’m here.”

you waited a breath, “actually, that is why you’re here. that’s the only reason i even talked to you,” you shrugged with your brows pulled together in confusion.

as much as you try to be a nice person, this guy had practically forced you to partner with him and you’d be damned if he’s going to assume your own intentions.

“sure it is,” he inched closer to you, his hand trailing up to your cheek before you got up from your chair and pushed him away by nudging his chest.

“woah there, buddy boy,” you scoffed as you backed away from him. “i dunno what signals you misread here, but i’m not into-“

“i’m not misreading anything,” he shook his head as he stepped closer to you. “i get it though; you wanna play hard to get. it’s cute, really.”

“i see,” he forced out a laugh. “this is a joke. not a very good one, but points for trying,” you gave him two thumbs up before pushing his chest once more with your fist. “now back away.”

he leaned in once more before you dodged out of his way, pushing him down and beelining for the door, screaming steve’s name in your wake.

“steve! stevie! he’s trying to kiss me!” you continued as you finally made your way to the living room where he and bucky typically resided.

upon entrance, there was no steve to be seen, but you heard johns footsteps following not too far behind. bucky, however, was there. he was already on his feet, making his way towards you in your panting state.

“what’s goin’ on?” one of his hands went for your shoulder, the other going towards your waist. “breathe for me, doll.”

“he’s trying to shove his lips on my face and i don’t want that,” you dramatically paraphrased.

his face went stoic at your admission before he turned towards the incoming footsteps. john froze as his sight landed on bucky. you swore you heard an audible gulp as bucky approached him. you were sure from john’s perspective he had augmented himself to appear more threatening. not that bucky needed it, he had plenty of muscle that when paired with the right look, he could be easily intimidating.

“i didn’t-“ john cut himself off as bucky stood right before him. “i swear, i-“

“are you trying to say you didn’t try to kiss her?” he cut john off. “are you calling her a liar?” he barely towered over the pathetic man, but with the way john was cowering bucky had seemed five feet taller than him. “my princess isn’t a liar.”

“no! no, i-“ he threw his hands up in defense.

“i mean, i get she’s gorgeous, but that doesn’t mean you get to do whatever you want with her,” bucky shoved his shoulder gently. “didn’t your ma’ ever teach you how to properly court a lady?”

“she-i’m sorry, man,” john panted out. “look, i didn’t know she was taken, like at all. i didn’t mean any-“

“i don’t care what you meant,” he swiftly grabbed his arm and turned john around, pinning it behind his back as he hissed out in pain. “i don’t ever want to see you so much as breathe near her again, got it?”

“yea-yes!” he nodded exaggeratedly. “i swear, man! i won’t be a problem!”

“good,” he used this time to usher him out the door, slamming it as soon as he turned back around.

“thank you, jamie,” you sighed as you plopped down on the coach where he had once resided. “i don’t even know why he thought he would be able to pull that off,” you scoffed as you shook your head, grabbing the remote and changing the channel.

“hey, i was watching a documentary!” he interrupted your thought process as he snatched the remote from your hands.

you chuckled lightly as you replayed the entire scene in your head. you kicked your feet up on the ottoman, trying to bite back a smile as you said, “so… you think i’m gorgeous, huh?”

he sighed as he plopped down beside you, his arm thrown on the back of the couch, “if you ever tell steve he’s gonna chop my head off.”

“well, as your princess, i can’t let that happen, can i?” you teased as you gently nudged his shoulder.

“look, that got him off your back, didn’t it?” his voice rose an entire octave as he threw his hands up in defense.

“he also thought i was taken,” you pointed out. “probably by you, might i add.”

“look, he got out of your hair, right?” you nodded. “then my job is done.”

“i’m just saying,” you sighed as you stared at the boring documentary he certainly was no longer focused on. “he’s probably gonna tell his friends. then they’re gonna tell their friends, and you get the point. meaning now everyone’s gonna think i’m taken by some strong, protective… guy.”

“what’s so bad about that?” he chuckled as he didn’t try at all to hide his little smile. “you don’t want people thinking i’m your strong, protective guy?”

“no, it’s just that-“

“sorry i’m late, buck!” steve rushed in the door.

you and bucky inched away from one another, which was odd. you weren’t doing anything, but it felt like you had crossed a line.

“debate went on so much longer this time, an argument broke out and then we had to recollect before final rebuttals and everything,” he rambled out as he plopped down in his favorite recliner. “so, how’re you guys doing?”

“we’re-“

“fine,” bucky cut you off. “we’re fine. nothing eventful. nothing happened. nothing at all, really.”

he turned to you with a slight smirk before turning back to steve.

oh, this was gonna be fun.

[trohpi]

killerqueen microfic [cross-posted on ao3]

@marauders-rarepair-fics • september 18: dragon • 996 words • CW: age gap (barty is 18, sirius is 22)

“Why, Sir Black,” Barty drawls, sleazy grin just as crooked and bloodied as his freshly broken nose. His eyes slowly trail down the length of Sirius’ armour before darting back up, uncanny green meeting steely grey. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Sirius ignores the flutter in his chest and takes his helmet off, tucking it under his arm as he shakes his hair out. He levels an unimpressed look at the boy on the floor. “I would ask if there’s something wrong with you, Lord Crouch, but I already know the answer to that particular question.”

“And I would say ‘Lord Crouch’ is my father, but I’m afraid ‘Barty’ is also my father so it appears I’m rather short on options.” The younger pointedly tugs at the binds around his wrists. “Now, if you would be so kind as to untie me, darling.”

“Yes, please do,” Rosmerta, the old barmaid who is the reason why Sirius came all the way here with Padfoot in the first place, says with a huff. She shoots a look at the knight that would put the fear of death in Magic herself. “Escort that scoundrel the Viscount calls a son out of my tavern. Now, please.”

“Of course, Madam,” Sirius says with his signature polished high-born smile while he grips Barty by the upper arm and yanks him to his feet. The abrupt movement pulls at his bound wrists and he grimaces, recoiling with protests on his lips. A warning kick to the back of his leg cuts him off.

“I apologise for him,” Sirius continues smoothly, ignoring the slight indignant squawk from Barty. Rosmerta watches on with a raised brow, expression somehow both amused and exasperated. “He lacks good form, despite his noble upbringing.”

“As if you were any better at his age,” she says dryly. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten the mischief you and Potter got up to. Would still be getting up to if his father wasn’t passing on the crown soon.”

“Oh, you know you miss us, Roz,” Sirius says, voice slipping from the courtly tone he’d put on to something more roguish and playful. The older woman rolls her eyes.

“I can assure you I do not, Mister Black. My tavern is far better off without spoiled youths starting fights within its walls.” She shoots a pointed look at Barty, who flashes her a shameless grin in lieu of a reply. Sirius has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back an inappropriate snort. Shockingly, his little brother’s annoying best friend can occasionally be funny.

Only occasionally, though. He still gets under Sirius’ skin like no other, and most of the time their interactions are thick with tension. James says it’s because they’re so similar, and that they would most certainly get along if they spent more than five minutes together without picking a fight. Sirius dutifully ignores him.

He clears his throat and puts his helmet back on. “Right, well, apologies again. We’ll be on our way.”

“You’d best be,” Rosmerta warns before leaving the corner of the tavern she’d banished Barty to, tied like a prisoner while she waited for someone to collect him.

She’d contacted the palace looking for Regulus, but James— the traitor— had taken his brother out for the day and refused to allow Sirius to come with. Teasingly said he could manage without his knight for a few hours, and if anything were to genuinely happen, well. Regulus could handle it with his magic.

Perks of being Blessed, Sirius had thought sardonically. You can publicly court your brother’s princely best friend without needing said brother’s protection.

Sirius makes quick work of the ropes on the young Lord’s wrists and drags him outside, into the bustling streets of Hogsmeade, the outermost village in the kingdom.

“What is the matter with you?” he hisses as they make their way through the crowd, periodically shooting a charming smile at the townsfolk who stop and stare. “Starting tavern brawls? Seriously?”

Barty rolls his eyes. “Don’t pretend you care, darling. We’re not friends. Don’t you have your precious Prince Potter to be guarding, or whatever it is you two do?”

“Stop calling me darling,” Sirius shoots back, ignoring the warmth in his cheeks. “And James is with Reggie, so it seems you’re stuck with me. You’re lucky I didn’t just leave you there when Rosmerta called.”

“Oh, lucky me. The handsome Sir Black came to save the damsel in distress. However may I repay him?” Barty faux-swoons into his side. Sirius bites his tongue.

“Padfoot’s just over here,” he says instead of the acerbic reply he’d wanted to, tugging Barty through an alley away from the throng.

“And you left your dragon here, why?

“Well, it’s not like she can fit in the streets,” he huffs as they round the corner and catch sight of her.

Padfoot’s magnificent, her iridescent black scales shimmering softly where the sun hits her. She’s curled up like a cat in the empty backstreet, massive head resting on a pile of old crates like a pillow. Big yellow eyes blink sleepily at their approach, only to widen when she sees who they are. Padfoot chirps happily and clambors upright, exhaling a soft puff of smoke.

“Hello, love,” Sirius croons, letting Barty go in favour of running his hand along her side. Her dense body begins to rumble with crackling purrs.

With a heavy clang, Sirius carefully undoes the chain around her back leg and double checks the fastens on the saddle.

“Alright,” he says after a moment. “Hop on. Do be careful, though. Padfoot is known to have an appetite for insufferably gauche bastards.”

“Why, I wonder how you’ve evaded being eaten this long, then,” Barty comments lightly.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Crouch.”

“Make me, Black,” Barty grins, a mixture of mirth, enmity, and some third thing Sirius can’t quite name swimming in those striking green eyes. Sirius swallows, throat dry.

“Just get on the damned dragon.”

[imagines--galore]

“I’m not jealous! It’s just… you’re mine!” with peter parker, please? he's the one saying it! thank you in advance! 🫶🏻

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Use of a curse word but that's it. A/N: So.......since there was no specification to which version of Peter we're talking about, I thought this fit the MCU Peter Parker more, so I hope thats alright!

"Well! I'd say that was a successful block party!" You stated happily as you entered the apartment you shared with your boyfriend. "We also probably gave Mrs Harris a heart attack by flaunting our relationship so openly." You chuckled as you referred to a resident living in your building who didn't think it was proper for a young lady to be living with a man when they were not married.

Peter gave a small smile, moving to put some leftovers you had gotten from the block party onto the small dining table you shared. You pulled off your shoes and sighed as you sank into the couch, glad to be off your feet. "Everything went off without a hitch, and I'm so glad I signed up for being in charge of the activities for the kids. They were a blast."

As part of the block party, you had contributed by making different fun activities for the younger kids to do while their parents went off to take a little time to themselves and enjoy the party as well. All day long you had entertained kids ranging from the age of five till twelve. You had been yanked in a hundred different directions by them the entire day, yet you didn't mind it. Playing with kids always brought you joy.

"You know? I'm thinking of signing up as a volunteer at the kindergarten nearby, it was so fun being around kids." You mused as Peter came to sit beside you. Turning your gaze to your boyfriend you gave a grin. "What do you think?"

You waited eagerly for his reply.

"Sure, if thats what you want." He said flatly with a shrug of his shoulders.

You blinked.

That was certainly not the response you had been expecting.

"Is everything alright Peter?" You asked, shifting slightly so you were sitting next to him, a hand on his shoulder.

"Everything's fine." He replied before pursing his lips tightly, as if physically stopping himself from saying anything further.

You shook your head. "No. Something is wrong. You've been acting weird all day."

"Oh so now you notice?!" You were taken aback at the sharp retort. Deciding to take the more patient route, one that you had adopted for the entire day given how you had been dealing with children you spoke in a soft tone. "What do you mean?"

Peter looked like he wanted to keep quiet, but with a small nod you hoped to encourage him to go on.

"Today was the one day we were supposed to hang out. Do stuff together and just spend time. And I was really looking forward to it since we've both been so busy the past couple weeks. But you spent the entire day on duty, after you said it would only be half a day. You spent the entire day playing with the kids and we didn't get to spend any time together."

He was breathing deeply by the time he had finished ranting.

Your mouth parted, your mind feeling a little fuzzy as you tried your best to catch up with what he had just said. Finally it all clicked into place and a wide smile of disbelief pulled at your lips.

"Oh my god! Peter! Were you jealous?!" You exclaimed, already feeling a giggle bubble in your chest, but you quickly pushed it down, not wanting to embarrass him further.

His cheeks were already turning red and panic shone in his eyes as he turned away from you. "I wasn't jealous!" He denied, crossing his arms over his chest and.....pouting.

Oh good Lord, he was pouting!

He looked so adorable.

"So let me see if I have this right, you, Peter Parker, Spiderman, savior of New York, are jealous of a bunch of kids because I gave them my attention for a day?" You asked hoping you would clarify the situation further. And also because you wanted to tease him about it.

As you spoke he suddenly stood, walking a few paces away before turning around to glare at you. "I'm not jealous." He stated, though the lack of conviction in his tone wouldn't fool anybody. "Its just....." He trailed off and looked as if he were struggling to find the words to say what he felt.

"You're mine."

A beat of silence which was broken by a sound that was a cross between a squeal and a giggle as you practically threw yourself in your boyfriend's arms. It was a true testament to his strength that he was able to catch you. He hardly had any time to recover from your sudden leap when you began to shower his face with kisses.

"You are so fucking adorable!" You emphasized each word with a loud smooch. You pulled back, laughing at the absolute dumbstruck look on his face, and the impressions of your lips that you had left behind. You had been wearing a slightly darker lipstick that you had kept reapplying throughout the day. He gave you a drunken smile at your sudden display of affection.

"I'm sorry if you felt neglected today." You said, arms wrapped around him. "How about I promise that you have my undivided attention for the next-" You glanced at the nearby clock. "Forty eight hours? I mean we have the whole weekend in front of us."

Peter seemed to have recovered from your affectionate attack as he hummed in contemplation. "Only if I get to choose the activities we'll be doing. I'm sure you're done with planning after today." He offered, a playful gleam in his eyes.

You grinned. "Deal."

To seal the little pact, you tilted your head back and kissed his lips, smiling as you felt him lean your entire body against yours, making you stumble back into the couch. Your body hit the soft cushions with a thump, but you barely noticed as you pulled Peter down with you, eager to sink into his embrace.

"All mine?" He whispered against your lips, before moving to trail down hot quick kisses along the curve of your neck.

"All yours." You whispered in a breathy tone as you felt the first buttons of your blouse come undone.

It was going to be a long night, yet you wouldn't have it any other way.

[axelsagewrites]

Could I ask about something fluffy for Halfdan the black from Vikings please for the V day creations 😁🥰🥰🥰🥰Thank you 🥰🥰🥰

Halfdan*Lofn

Pairing: halfdan x goddess!reader

Word count: 1352

Warnings: forbidden love, made up norse festival bc they didnt have valentines (or anything similar i could find)

Masterlist Here

Halfdan never felt the need to make friends. Not in the way his brother Harald did at least. Halfdan had drinking buddies, war buddies, hell even fuck buddies, but he did not see the point of befriending another lord just for his company. Though Halfdan was not the brother destined to be king.

Halfdan quite frankly didn’t understand why they even had to stop in this godforsaken village. So, when his brother told him they had to stay another five days to take part in their festival he found himself groaning and whining like a toddler.

The only reason he hadn’t abandoned his brother and went elsewhere was because of you. well, he didn’t know your name only your face. But the gods had made it the most beautiful face he’d ever seen.

When he asked his brother about the festival even Harald seemed to know nothing. your village had been named after Freyja so every year you would honour her but neither knew what to expect.

-

The bonfire was higher than any house with children dancing around the flames and drinks flowing freely with the adults. As Harald nursed his third cup his eyes fell upon you and finally, he felt like this may have been worth him staying.

You were sat alone, a few feet away from most on a fallen tree staring into the flames. Before he could think the alcohol had decided for him and he was crossing the grass towards you. “May I sit?” he asked, trying to act nonchalant but he felt an odd blush raise in his cheeks as you lifted your gaze.

Your eyes scanned over him for a moment in silence, from his tip toes to his hair, before finally you gave a small nod. “I’m Halfdan,” he said, breaking the silence once more as he sat down, and he felt relived you gave your name back. “Why are you sitting all alone?” he asked making you laugh a little, “What?”

“Nothing. I like someone who does not beat around the bush,” you said, a twinkle in your eye that made him blush again before your eyes returned to the fire, “I like to sit with my thoughts especially on days like this. Everyone seems so happy,”

“And you, are you happy?” he asked, his gaze fixed on you even if you do not return it.

However, he did notice the smile that tugged on your lips, “I can be at times,” usually he’d roll his eyes at an answer like yours, but this felt different.

“You never answered my question,” he said, and you hummed in response, “Why are you alone?”

“You were the first person to ask to sit,” you replied, finally turning to face him, “I think the better question is why did you?”

Up this close Halfdan could see the flames reflected in your eyes despite the fire being so far away. he could feel its warmth as if it was sat next to him, “I suppose I just wanted to meet you,” he said, his head becoming hazy.

“Are you well? you look like you may faint,” you said, brow knotting in concern.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, “It is very warm is it not?” he said, pulling at his shirt to fan himself.

He only stopped when you stood up, “Come with me. I know where you can cool down,” you said, and he did not need to be told twice.

He followed you down the hill the bonfire was on down to the edge of the shore where you slowly walked along as the breeze from the water finally cooled him down, “I’m not sure what happened,” Halfdan said when he finally felt he could breathe again.

Your smile almost took it away though, “It’s alright. Many become overwhelmed by the end of the night. The fire can burn awfully hot,”

“What is the fire for? I know your celebrating Freyja but why?” he asked, pausing in his tracks when you laughed softly.

You stopped as well and turned to face him, “We do not only celebrate her. well, I do not at least,” you said, turning your gaze to the sea, “We celebrate love. Freyja is of course only one of the three we celebrate,”

“And the other two?”

“Well one is Sjöfn though some rumour she is just Frigg in disguise,”

“Why would a goddess need to disguise herself?” Halfdan asked, suddenly very interested in every word you had to say. “Is she not the goddess of marriage?”

“She is. as well as prophecy and motherhood however sadly, love does not always lie in the marriage. That’s where the third comes in. Lofn,”

“I recognise the name,” he said though he could not place from when.

You chuckled however, “Many do. Few know why. She is protecting the forbidden love. The true love. The love that cannot always be, but you will never lose. She is who I celebrate on nights like these,” you said as your eyes turned to gaze back at the fire.

Halfdan felt a flare grow in his chest, “Why is that? I cannot imagine a man loving you and letting you go no matter the reason,”

Your lips quirked into a smile as your eyes turned to him, “I am not in a forbidden love. Not yet at least. Though I do find the notion romantical,”

“Romantical?”

“Romantical. Mesmerizing. Enthralling. Whatever word you choose. The notion of a love so strong it breaks the rules,”

“You do not like to follow the rules?”

“I do not see why I would,” you said.

Halfdan found himself cracking a slight smirk, “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he said before you decided it was finally time to head back to the fire. As you began to walk up the hill, he decided to ask another question, “Why the bonfire?”

“They say no matter how far you are from the flames you will feel them on your skin if you’re sat with your one love and if you feel a chill stood beside it then it is not meant to be,”

“Is that why there are so many girls sat around it?” he snorted when he noticed just how close to the flames some of them sat. you however chose not to respond to that, and it was enough to make him swallow hard. “Do you believe in it?”

“I do,”

“Why?”

“Because I know it’s true,”

“How?”

“I just do,” you said with a small smile as you arrived back to your original seat, “Your brother is looking for you,” you said, nodding over at the dark-haired man motioning to Halfdan to come over. “I’ll wait here,”

Halfdan sighed, “I’ll only be a moment,” he said as he stalked over to his brother.

“I was wondering where you went,” Harald said as he held out a drink to his brother, “Another?”

“I went on a walk,” he said as he took the cup.

Harald made a face however, “By yourself?”

Halfdan rolled his eyes, “No with…” he said, turning to point to you only to realise the space you once stood was empty, “She was right there,” he muttered before telling Harald your name.

Harald just shook his head, “You weren’t with anyone brother. I saw you walk up the hill yourself,”

“That’s impossible,” he muttered as his eyes scanned the crowd.

His attention was only drawn back when he heard Harald shiver, “You’d think that fire would feel warmer,” he said making Halfdan’s eyes widen.

His eyes turned to the bonfire, staring into the flames. He saw you through them like before but this time he did not see you on the other side. Perhaps he’d drank too much Harald suggested when he assured him no one had been sitting on that fallen tree. However, when Halfdan saw the tree standing unbent and unwavering the next day he knew he had met you. he just had not realised you were a god. A god who he could never love. It was all so romantical he thought.

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[lonelycowgirls]

Girl on Film

New Harry and Stella content! 🌟🎉 *the crowd goes mild*

I know it's been an AGE, but I've been working on this on and off for a while and I just wanted to get it out there, but it just wasn't happening...

But here it is – I hope you all enjoy as much as I did writing it, certainly made me feel some type of way 😏

Please like, reblog and follow if you enjoy it!

My asks are also open for feedback and ideas to how this universe can continue.

Nel xo

~

“So, I had a patient come in today, who I haven’t seen since her six-week scan, and she said I look good because I’ve put on weight?” Stella said in a questioning tone, pulling her hair back with her fluffy hairband.

“Oh, right,” Harry nodded, turning the corners of his lips down in consideration, then returning to carefully shaving his chin. Stella frowned at him in the mirror and crossed her arms, after popping the cap back onto her micellar water.

“Well, have I?” This was dangerous territory, the way Harry responded now would determine how the rest of their evening would go – and he’d never mastered the right way to answer these types of questions, no matter how many ‘man-to-man’ chats he’d had with his dad and his friends.

“Have you what?” He said, words coming out strangely due to his stretched cheeks as he ran the razor blades carefully across his skin. He heard Stella scoff. Wrong answer.

“Put on weight, you dickhead. Are you even listening?” She resisted the urge to shove his side so as to not cause him to cut himself.

“Oh, right, I can’t say I’ve noticed, bub.” He mumbled nonchalantly as Stella’s chin pulled in with frustration.

“Well, that’s great, a woman who barely sees me notices more about me than my boyfriend who I live with.” Harry rolled his eyes as Stella marched out of their bathroom. He leaned against the double sink unit they shared and hung his head with a sigh, some remnants of white, frothy shaving cream still covering his chin.

This was typical Stella, she knew it as well. Knew that she could fly off the handle at the slightest thing – like she was made of gasoline and just a flicker of a match could cause an explosion. He’d put up with it for a long time, when a few of his friends and family members had told him to leave and find an easier life, he’d considered it for a week at most and then looked at her face again and couldn’t imagine being without her – temper and all.

Harry was a chilled out guy, he liked to think that they balanced each other out. He’d act as fresh water poured over Stella’s flame whenever she got too hot, and Lord did she know how to get him wound up when he needed it.

Yeah, they were a delicate balance, but didn't she ever piss him off as well sometimes.

Once he’d finished up and brushed his teeth, he shut the light off in their ensuite and slumped back into the bedroom with his tail between his legs. Eyeing Stella, she didn’t look up from her book from behind her glasses. She eyed his back when he turned.

Harry pulled the duvet back, sliding in beside her and shutting his lamp off. One arm resting on the pillow above his head, he shuffled to get comfortable and sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Was I too skinny before?” Stella asked after a few beats, taking a break from staring at the words on the page — having been on the same sentence for nearly 10 minutes.

“What?” Harry made a distressed face, running his palms across its planes – he was hoping he could just go to sleep and she’d forget about it by morning. “Babe, come on.” He said, rolling to his side to look at her.

“What? I’m being so serious,” she replied, shutting her book and chucking it on her bedside table. “I need to know if I’m living unhealthily.” She flopped her arms down by her sides, looking up to the ceiling.

“You know you’re not though, Stell.” Sure, Stella was on her feet for 15-hour shifts at least twice a week, skipped breakfast and only managed an average of five hours of sleep each night, but she tried to eat well and work out when she did get time. “What’s this really about? Why are you so upset by what this random woman said?”

“Do you really not see it? You never noticed?” Stella felt vulnerable, even after all this time with him, she felt uncomfortable looking him in the eye.

“I don’t want this to come across the wrong way…” Harry came up to lean on his arm, looking down at her and running a hand across her body over the top of the duvet. She chanced a look up at him, skepticism clear on her face. “I haven’t noticed, because I don’t think about it.” Stella opened her mouth to retaliate, almost sitting up but being pushed back down. “Listen,” He warned with a look. “I don’t think about it… because I’m thinking about how I can make you laugh next. I’m thinking about how much I’m looking forward to next sitting down in the evening and having a cuddle whilst watching Love Island or old Four In A Bed episodes, or some new drama you want to watch. I’m thinking about how gentle and loving you are with the cats. I’m thinking about how lucky I am to be able to come home to you, to your hugs and kisses. I’m thinking about how comfortable and cosy you make our home. I’m thinking about how you’re the best friend I’ve ever had… and the only partner I’ll ever want.”

Stella pursed her lips to keep a smile from bursting across her face, Harry moved to remove her glasses from her face, leaning in to kiss her, but she moved her lips away just before they connected. Harry smirked at her with a mock frown in his brow – now she wanted to play.

“You are such a sweet talker…” She said quietly, running her fingers back through his thick hair. “You should write songs.” Harry nodded with a dumb look on his face, like she’d just said she’d discovered that water is wet.

“That’s actually such a shout from you.” Harry nodded, dimple protruding from his smirk. He leaned in to rub his nose against hers, but she continued to dodge his puckering lips.

“You know what,” she said, pushing him back by his shoulder, his eyes growing darker and lulling now, routinely running from her eyes to her lips and back again. “I think it’s because you’re not on tour anymore.” She perched on one elbow to mirror him, creating a level playing field.

“What are you on about?” Harry laughed slightly, trying to pull her into him by her hip even when she pawed at his chest in protest.

“Think I’ve gotten too comfortable, when you’re not here I’m actually conscious of how I look.” She was being honest, he could tell by the lack of smirk next to his own. He shuffled forward, taking her further in his arms — with minimal protest this time.

“I don’t know how to respond to that.” Harry’s voice came out muffled as he buried his face in her neck. She chuckled, rolling her eyes and scratching his scalp through his hair.

“Suppose I should make a bit more effort around you, shouldn’t I, really?” She commented, “You are Harry Styles™ after all.” He brought his head out to look up at her with a deep frown, bordering on disgust.

“Nah, fuck that shit. Sloth about if you want to. Do you, sister.” She smiled softly at him. “Doesn’t make me wanna shag you any less.” She threw her head back in a lazy cackle, and he took that opportunity to press a few kisses to her throat.

“Is that all I am to you… a hole?” She shook her head at him and tried to move, only for him to pull her closer again – damn Brad for those inescapable arms.

“Now, now... you’ve got two other holes which I’m also very fond of.” He smoothed his hands down her sides. “Even if I only got to be in one for about two and a half seconds… and the other one only opens on my birthday.” He pinched at her waist and she gasped, slapping at his arm.

“Got that right.” She said smugly, leaning forward to kiss him firmly on the lips.

“Mmm, now that you mention it,” He bit his lip, nose still grazing Stella’s. “Your arse has been looking a lot rounder... fuller.” He cupped it in his hands, so familiar with the way it felt.

“Stooooop.” She pushed at him, yet again, to no avail.

“Can barely fit it in my hands now.” He was exaggerating, easily grabbing a fistful.

“Harry.” She chastised, trying to roll away. He flipped the duvet off of the two of them, exposing her naked figure.

“Let’s take a closer look, eh?” He instead rolled her to her front, she cackled, accepting her fate and running a hand over her face. “Ah, yes, I believe the mandem would call this, a bunda.” He smoothed his hands up and down over the bare skin, she laughed louder at him pretending to inspect her.

“Stop it, you idiot.” Stella, covered her face in embarrassment as Harry manhandled her arse with his fingers, kneading the flesh like dough.

“No? A batty then.” He questioned, licking a stripe up a cheek and then digging his teeth in for a bite. Stella gasped, feeling a heat pool in her abdomen. She looked down at him then, arching her back to push her bum out to his face. “Oh, so now you like it?”

One thing about Harry; he could make Stella feel like a supermodel. She felt incredibly average in her everyday life, whether it was doing the weekly shop or working the wards. But she always felt undeniably sexy with him — even laid bare before his eyes. When he manhandled her like this, she felt the urge to set up a camera to push record, just so she could watch it back to see herself with him. See him work her up from an outside perspective.

She flipped her hair over to one side, biting down on her lip as he pressed open-mouth kisses all over her arse, feeling herself grow wetter and wetter. She turned her head to watch him again, loving the sight of her gorgeous man worshiping her. His eyes were closed, almost in a dreamlike state, as he pushed each kiss with a small groan and a wet smack.

Ghosting his lips up the crack of her bum, Harry spread her cheeks and spat in the gap, causing Stella to groan. 

“Mm, yes… get it wet, baby.” She sighed out, her voice taking on that velvet tone that had him driving his hips into the duvet. Unable to wait and knowing exactly what she wanted, Harry continued to massage her cheeks up and outwards while he went to town on her hole. He glanced up to watch her burying her face into the pillow, clutching it and groaning from her chest. Unlike when he went down on her up front, Stella could never look directly at him when he ate her arse. She loved it, but he knew she’d never straight up ask for it, so he’d have to take the lead to bring them into the position they were now in, so that she could enjoy herself without embarrassment.

Forcing her hips back into his face, Harry growled and brought his hand down with a smack, followed by a harsh grip, making her arch and throw her head back. Keeping his lips attached to her hole, he cupped under her hip bones and lifted until she was up on her knees, her sacred parts fully displayed out for him. Before he had a chance to get his own fingers on her, she was rubbing slow, deep circles into her clit, moaning from her throat, hair coating her face as she pressed into the pillow.

He smirked when their fingers brushed and moved back slightly to spit at her again, licking and smacking his lips against her puckering hole that was clenching in rhythm with her heavy breathing. Her fingers came to move in tandem over his on her clit, allowing her to guide her own pleasure.

“Fuuuuuck me, I’m gonna come, love your fucking mouth.” Curses tumbled from her lips but before she could reach the apex, she was flipped to her back. Harry grabbed her wrist as she bounced back on the mattress, hair a disarray and chest and face carrying a delicious flush, and placed it back on her pussy. She immediately began her furious ministrations again.

“Come, baby,” He ordered, lying on his stomach, face inches from where her fingers were flying, he spat on her once more to keep her going. “Let me see that pussy clench.” He held her legs open and she winced over the stretch pulling at her inner thighs. At last, silently screaming, Stella’s mouth went agape. Her chin dropping to her chest, eyebrows drawing in almost impossibly close and finally breaking eye contact as they rolled to the back of her head. “Yes, yes, yes.” He chanted, mesmerised.

Seconds of silence were finally met with a deep growl from her throat as her head fell back on her shoulders and she convulsed in ecstasy. Harry pulled her wrist away and attached his lips to her clit, sucking it like a sticky sweet. Every breath that escaped her lungs was paired with a small high-pitched moan, her nails digging into her boyfriend’s head while her hips rutted into his face.

Harry could tell she was coming down, after years of pleasuring her he knew her body almost as well as she did. He moved to press soft kisses across her labia, continuing up to her soft tummy, each full breast and up to her neck. Her ankles locked around his lower back as she draped her arms across his shoulders — feeling consumed and divinely pleasured. 

Harry rutted up into the backs of her thighs, “You’re such a little sex pot, aren’t you,” another rut, a moan from her, “could watch you play with yourself forever.” Another rut, “We should film ourselves.”

“Oh, yeah,” She sighed over a laugh, shaking her head. “Can’t imagine what could go wrong there.”

“No one will ever see, baby.” Harry whispered, darkly, running the tip of his nose up her cheek, pushing a kiss into her temple. “Wanna take you away with me, I’ve been in love too long… I’m too grown to be missing you… touching myself like a teenager over just the thought of you… your body… the way it feels… the way it responds to me… wanna have something to really remind me.”

It’s like he was drunk, all this mumbling, he was drunk on her. On them. It was all Stella could do but to lie back and take it, they didn’t even need to place him inside her, he just rutted until he slipped in, a soft gasp leaving her lips as he slid along her walls. 

She caressed the side of his face with the tips of her fingers, both of their bodies pressed together and rocking back and forth together. It was intense — Stella had never cried during sex before, but the feeling of burning behind her eyes suggested a first time for everything.

Harry’s pubic bone continued grazing her clit, so right that it was almost maddening. Stella couldn’t control her moaning, it was nearly too much. His strong hips sped up consistently until their breathing was mingling together in a tangle of hot air and she was clinging to him for dear life.

“Baby, baby, baby, fuck!” Stella squealed rhythmically as they rocked, “God, Harry.” She cried in disbelief and tried her hardest to keep her eyes on his, she couldn’t bare to miss a moment of the look on his face — just so enamoured, present and fucked out. They needed this so badly. She ran her thumb over his bottom lip. “I love you…” Stella was feeling every emotion, Harry had done what only he could, he’d stripped her walls and made her submit. “I’m beyond in love with you, Harry.” She breathed out with a moan that had Harry tearing up, but also speeding up. “I’m part of you.”

“Fuck…” Harry cursed, holding his mouth over hers and panting over the excursion of his hips, his masculine instinct kicking in. He was fucking her like an animal fucks his mate – like it was the last thing he’d ever do. 

When he finally came, it was with a juvenile whine as she held his chin between her thumb and fingers and clenched down hard, and she was reminded of her gentle and sensitive lover. She brought him down to kiss her and his repetitive, high-pitched moans vibrated on her tongue. Rolling off of her, they both laid with their arms splayed out, Stella’s head still resting on Harry’s forearm. She stuck her tongue out at the icky feeling of his come dribbling out of her, but could barely feel her legs to move to the toilet.

“You get sooo emotional when we fuck nowadays.” Harry panted, energy spent, droplets of sweat running back into his hairline.

“Shut up, I can’t help it.” Stella weakly hit his rising chest with the back of her hand, making him laugh. “Your dick triggers me.”

“Nah, I love it. Never change.” She smiled at that, rolling slightly to throw a sticky leg over his hips.

“Oh, don’t worry, this temper and batty isn’t going anywhere, baby.”

~

Read more from the Been There All Along universe here!

[benijbol]

Things Benjicot Blackwood would tweet;

A/N; Going insane waiting for uni to start so I'm taking my lack-of-a-schedule boredom out on writing stupid shit like this.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ✣ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

@/BenjiNOT: "Should probably update my bio to 'professional shitposter, part-time knight, full-time pain in Crispin Cole's ass.' Thoughts?"

@/BenjiNOT: "Here’s a meme of Otto Hightower looking like he just stepped out of a crypt. Oh wait, that’s just his face."

@/BenjiNOT: "Do you know how hard it is to keep an ancient household from crumbling under the weight of a million scrolls and zero actual heirs worth a damn? One of my cousins thinks he’s a literal tree. Like… a TREANT. I wish I was kidding." @/BenjiNOT: "Keep playing in my mentions and I’ll show up to your house with a raven that won’t shut up until you apologize. Consider it an emotional support bird."

@/BenjiNOT: "I just KNOW Lord Larys has an OnlyFans but instead of feet pics it's just like, random people's deepest secrets and blackmail material. Dude’s out here monetizing dirt like it's 4D chess. We’re not the same." @/BenjiNOT: "Finally went to therapy and the therapist told me that my ‘feud complex’ isn’t normal. Imagine paying someone to tell you that the Brackens aren’t worth your mental health. Not sure I can trust the process anymore." @/BenjiNOT: "So, the next family gathering is coming up and I'm trying to figure out how to get out of it. Can I just… fake an illness? The plague maybe? Will my auntie Blackwood buy it if i tell her I've contracted "Dragonscale flu"? probably not but It’s worth a shot. Anything to avoid another 3-hour lecture from my uncle about legacy. Literally nothing makes me want to die more than hearing a man say “legacy” in a serious tone." @/BenjiNOT: "Currently sitting at the Ravenry, watching my cousin (definitely Davos) try to court an actual tree. Guess I’m the only normal one left around here. If I start knitting it’s over for all of you." @/BenjiNOT: "So I took up candle-making. Accidentally summoned a minor forest spirit instead. Long story short, I think I’m married now. To a bush. And like, I’m fine with it? Anything’s better than dealing with my family at the next feast."

Probably tweets about it five days later at 3AM being like,

@/BenjiNOT: "I’m still thinking about that tree, though. Could it work out between us? I mean, it doesn’t talk back, doesn’t care if I drag Brackens or wear my cloak wrong… Y’know, for a bush, it’s low-key perfect?"

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ✣ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Bonus;

“Listen up, you utter knaves and simpletons,” he types furiously, the caps lock an angry beacon of rage. “If I see one more take about House Blackwood being ‘literally so irrelevant,’ I swear on the Old Gods, New Gods, and whatever pagan deity you’re praying to that I’ll hunt you down with a crossbow. And I’m great with a crossbow. Won archery tournaments before you were even a twinkle in your stupid House Bracken-supporting mother’s eye.”

[techs-goggles9902]

request for a Fox meets Fives in Clone Heaven and apologizes and they talk

Clone Heaven

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! SEE MASTERLIST FOR DETAILS!

Warnings: death, broken necks

Word count: 650

A/N: YES OMG I LOVE THIS I LOVE YOU ANON. I was walking home from graduation practice and I read this and I was over joyed!!

NOT A CLONE SHIPPING FIC. DO NOT TAKE IT THAT WAY, PLEASE.

The last thing he heard was a snap.

The last thing he felt was pain.

The last thing he saw was the mask. His eyes never left the visor that covered Lord Vader’s face.

Krk. That was the sound his neck made when his superior snapped it in front of his troops. His friends. Brothers.

“Fox…” A familiar voice calls out to him, rousing him from his… slumber? Fox cracks open his eyes with a low groan. With a couple slow blinks, he remembers what happened.

Vader.

Fox shoots up, his shaking hands clawing at his neck. The neck that should be snapped in half. Yet, here he is… somewhere between life and death.

He looks around, taking in everything. Soft grass is just barely illuminated by a setting sun, painting the sky a medley of colors. He’s still in full armor, minus his helmet, which is resting in the grass beside him.

A figure sits several yards away, overlooking the sunset, sitting on a somewhat flat rock. The man wears armor just like Fox’s, but it's plain white. He turns his shaven head so Fox can see his profile. An aurebesh 5 is tattooed to his right temple, accompanied with a Kaminoan medpatch on his head.

“Hey,” he says.

“Fives…” Fox’s eyes widen, his breath picks up, his hands get clammy. He killed him. Shot him square in the chest.

How is this possible…

“Relax, Fox… we’re both dead here. You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” Fives grins, patting the empty space on the rock beside him.

“I-I…”

Fives’ gaze softens, the sun hitting his amber eyes just right. “C’mere.”

Fox slowly gets to his feet, his hands shaking at his sides. He lowers himself down on the rock beside Fives.

“What… What is this place?”

“I don’t know… It’s pretty, though, isn’t it?” Fox nods, trying to keep from locking eyes with his brother.

“I’ve been here since… you know,” Fives continues. Fox knows. He knows all too well, having to live with the guilt of shooting your own comrade. In front of his squad, General Skywalker, and Rex. “You know… Echo’s alive. I don’t think you know him, but he’s one of my batchmates. He and I were the last survivors of Domino Squad, Fox. We all thought he died… but he’s not here. He’s down there… Everyone else is up here…”

“I… I’ve heard of Echo. Rex talked about you guys… all good things, ‘course.”

“I’d hope so,” Fives chuckles.

A few moments of silence follows.

“So… Ponds is up here? And Keeli?” Fox looks away from the sky, fidgeting with his gloves.

Fives looks at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners in sympathy. “Yeah… They’re here…”

Fox gnaws on his lower lip nervously. “Listen… about what happened, Fives-”

“Don’t worry about it, Fox. You didn’t have a choice. Good soldiers follow orders.” Fives puts his gloved hand on Fox’s knee, giving it a little squeeze.

“No.”

Fives gives him a confused look, about to pull his hand away when Fox grabs it and holds it tightly.

“Let me apologize. Please…”

“Fox, it’s not your fault.”

“I… I could’ve…”

“What? Refused the order, leading to a court martial? Fox, you had no choice.”

Fox’s jaw works, trying to find something to say. His grip on his brother goes slack and he drops his hand.

“I’m sorry, though…”

“If I accept your apology, will you finally rest in peace?” Fives sighs.

“Yes,” Fox says with no hesitation present.

“Fine… I forgive you for killing me. You’re dead, Fox, you shouldn’t be so tense. We get to be free of… everything.”

“Yeah but… I’m sorry.”

“You know what you should be sorry for? That haircut.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Fox runs his hand through his graying curls.

“You could’ve done anything with it and you got a mullet?”

“But it’s a good mullet.”

“Whatever.”

Taglist: @will-is-silly @dangraccoon @fionajames @sevdidntdie @skellymom @hellhound5925

Dividers by @ saradika

Let me know if you want to be added/taken off the taglist!

[midnightmorpher]

☀️🔔 The Chime of Gifts 🔔🌙

oh lord what is that title

Anyways! I needed a quick break from writing chapter 4 of “barging into your life” (I’m nearly done, but won’t be posting it until maybe 15th July?), so I decided to write what I hope to be a future scene in the story. Sorry it’s a little rushed at the end, I’m… pretty tired lol

It’s not necessarily going to play out exactly like this, but the core idea is there and I want to make it happen :3

⭐️ Context: You and Sun are working more or less peacefully with each other, you and Moon are getting along here. Starbite is a nickname they made for you: “Star” because duh, “Bite” because you’re bite-sized.

Guess who came up with which half of the nickname.

The last straw is when a piece of sundrop candy somehow found its way into your hair.

“Ick. Kids sure can be dang ninjas sometimes, eh?” you say to Sun as you soak the stick clump under running water, easing each strand out of the gooey sweet. “Looks like I’ll need to watch my back closer from now on.”

You hear a scoff from behind. “You think your eyes are the problem here? It’s not! Look at that rat’s nest on your head, I won’t be surprised if it swept up that sundrop all on its own.” He flicks a lock of your wavy hair into your eyes for emphasis.

“Oi, don’t do that,” you snap. The candy finally comes free and you chuck it into a nearby bin. “But… eh, that’s possible too. Whatever’s the case, I’ll just have to tie it up higher where it can’t touch anything, I guess.”

Your hair is essentially a veil-like mass of wavy keratin covering over half of your back, and you normally keep it tied up in a ponytail for convenience or leave it alone altogether. But you had underestimated the chaotic nature of thirty hyperactive children, so perhaps it’s time to upgrade to a hair bun instead…

A hand suddenly claps down on your shoulder. You squeak in surprise. “There’s no need for that!”

“Huh?”

Sun jabs a thumb at himself and puffs his chest out with pride. “Luckily for you, *I* happen to be a licensed hairstylist myself. I’ll help you tame that nest of yours, and even better, it will be free of charge! What do you say?”

You squint up at him, then at his lanky noodle-fingers. He’s dexterous, sure, but trusting his strength with hair that’s attached to your very delicate scalp? Eeeeeeh.

“That’s… That’s alright, buddy,” you say as you try to shuffle around him to the daycare doors. “But I’ve got it hand- Whoa!”

Your feet leaves the ground in an unpleasant lurch as Sun plucks you up around the waist without warning. It doesn’t hurt, but you still reflexively kick the person responsible. (Un)fortunately, your feeble human strength doesn’t make so much as a ding against Sun’s silicone-cased body.

“Sorry, I should have worded myself better! What I *meant* to say was, ‘You have no say in the matter and I *will* wrestle that unruly mess into a more acceptable style suited for the daycare if it’s the last thing I do’.” His lower eyelids pull up to match his smug smile, unfazed by how you squirm ineffectually in his grasp. “Does that clear things up for you?”

It’s clear that you’re not getting out of his one-handed grip *or* this situation any time soon, and you slump over dramatically in his fist. “Ugh, *fine*. Treat me like a baby, why don’t you.”

Sun wags his finger at you. “Ah, ah, ah. What did I say about accepting help from *friends?”*

*’Bloody hell.’* “That it’s rude to refuse,” you sigh.

“It’s rude to refuse for no good reason,” he corrects you. “But close enough, Starbite!”

His long legs allow him to stride over to the middle of the daycare in five easy steps, and you’re set down on the play mats with exceeding gentleness. The phantom sensations of his fingers buzz on your torso even when he releases you, and you hastily straighten out your uniform before he notices the growing warmth in your face.

“Now you sit your little self down there and wait while I go get a brush!”

Sun doesn’t give you a chance to respond before bounding off, a thick cable carting him off to his room high up in the castle prop. You plop down with a huff. *‘Honestly, what’s the point? I might as well get it chopped off if it’ll save the both of us the trouble,’* you grumble internally, even as you tug off the black tie keeping your hair up. Locks of hair spill over your shoulders.

Sun returns in no time at all, twirling a comically tiny wooden brush in between his fingers with deft movements befitting of a knife juggler. You don’t think it weird when he circles around to sit behind you - how else is he going to “style your hair”? - but the *sudden snapping of legs around the width of your crossed legs like a Venus flytrap* forces you to scooch backwards with haste, back thudding against a warm body. “Whoa, what the hell?!”

The back of the brush bops against your nose. “Language!”

“I’ll rephrase, then! What the *heck*,” you say, turning around to shoot Sun a frown. But it falters quickly when you realise just how close you are to him; your nose is practically brushing against his brightly-coloured chest, and you can feel the soft hums and vibrations of the machinery hidden beneath the soft silicone. “Um.”

“How else am I supposed to tame that mane of yours? You need to sit closer!” His lower eyelids pull up to complement the smug grin pulling at his mouth, and he leans over with an expression that you’d call almost *eager*. “Unless that bothers you?”

“It’s not that!”

His grin widens a smidge.

“It’s just that this *can’t* be an efficient position for hairstyling, dude. Aren’t you uncomfortable?” Surely Sun possessing arms nearly as long as yourself would make it easier to work at a distance.

… And there the grin goes, levelling into the flattest expression his face is physically capable of.

“… No,” he sulks. Why is he sulking? Isn’t he the one that wanted to do this in the first place? “Maybe your eyes *are* the problem here after all…”

Now you’re even more baffled. Is this even about your hair anymore?

“Never mind!” He turns your head back around to face forward, his grip on your temples firm but gentle, and you feel a pressure beginning to pull at your hair. You tense up, digging your nails into the denim material of your jeans in anticipation of the inevitably awful process of combing.

But that’s not what happens. He doesn’t immediately start dragging bristles through your hair; instead, you feel slender fingers card through your hair with a feather-light touch, methodical and rhythmic, only stopping when they hit a small tangle, which is swiftly dealt with a sharp tug. It stings, but only for a second.

This isn’t what you’d expected.

“At least you take good enough care of your hair,” you hear Sun sigh so close to your ear. Warmth bathes your back as he leans forward for a moment to comb back a stray lock of hair. “As surprising as it is.”

“‘Course I do.” You try to sound dismissive, but the brief contact just makes you sound breathless. Why did your heart flip just now? It’s not a *bad* feeling, just… different? It makes your insides squirm.

“Ha. Hard to believe when you treat regular meals as a suggestion.” You hear the sound of wood scraping against metal. “Lean forward a little.”

Alongside his instructions, you feel a palm wide enough to encompass most of your back push against you, and you comply, limiting your line of sight to Sun’s eye-watering pants and your own legs tightly tucked into a criss-crossed form. You purse your lips into a thin line when you feel plastic bristles press against your scalp, bracing yourself for the pain-

The hairbrush pulls through your hair.

You can’t hold back the surprised squeak that bubbles up your throat.

The brush stops mid-comb. “Does it hurt?” Sun asks.

“No! No, uh, continue. P-please.” You desperately hope he can’t detect the blush rising to the tips of your ears.

He hums, but thankfully doesn’t question you as he returns to running the brush through your hair. You can’t bring yourself to hate it no matter how hard you try; the shockingly delicate touch behind the repetitive brushes sends butterflies to your chest, making it difficult not to lean back and sink into the motion. It’s not an *un*pleasant feeling per se. Quite the opposite, really. You weren’t aware that having someone comb your hair for you can be anything *but* a torturous experience to sit through, until now.

When Sun sets the hairbrush aside after nearly a minute passes, you’re tempted to ask him to keep going.

“I’m going to start braiding your hair now, Starbite,” he announces, poking you in the ribs to get your attention. “Do you think you can *hold still* this time?”

Embarrassment momentarily overtaking your motor functions, you blurt out a flustered “No!”.

“Oh.” It makes you feel a little better about yourself that Sun sounds taken aback as well. “I see. Well, um… here you go, then.”

His left leg unfurls and crosses *over* your lap, and you realise that he’s offering you the poofiest part of his pants like it’s a plushie to distract you. Even worse, you find yourself seriously considering it.

*‘… Oh whatever. If Sun makes fun of me for this, I’ll just suck it up.’*

Mind made up, you wrap your arms around the offered leg and stuff your face into the soft material for good measure.

You hear Sun snort and mutter something intelligible, but any thoughts on it flies out of the window when you feel his fingers scratching against your scalp, gathering your hair in three separate bunches.

The sensation is more subtle, yet just as soothingly hypnotic as you feel each bunch being weaved around each other. The last dregs of tension bleeds out of your shoulders and you sink into the plush material under you, your eyelids getting oddly heavier by the second…

Maybe it won’t hurt to close them for a bit…

…

…

“All done!”

A hearty pat between your shoulder blades startles you awake. Awake? Shit. “I was sleeping?!” you gasp, scrambling to get off his plush leg as quickly as possible. You hear giggling behind you. “It’s not funny! Oh god, how long was I asleep? The daycare’s gonna open soon-“

A hand baps the top of your head, knocking you back onto your rear. You glower at Sun’s unrepentant grin.

“It’s been ten minutes, so take a breath, hm?” As he talks, Sun brushes loose strands of hair away and tucks them into your…

You pause. There’s a new weight at the back of your head, and when you reach around, you feel a tightly woven braid trailing down your back and ending with the black hair tie you normally use. The braiding technique is nothing special, but it’s something *new* and you’re entranced by it, running your fingers down the path of the individual dips and curves of each silky weave. You trace over something that doesn’t match your hair’s texture, and when you pull your new braid over your shoulder to take a look, you see a red ribbon intertwining in it like a bright streak of dye. A *familiar* red ribbon that ends with an equally familiar bell tied to the braid’s tail.

You shake it to make sure you’re not seeing things. Its pleasant jingle shatters that notion.

“Sun?”

“Yeeees?” Sun coos oh-so-innocently.

“This is your bell.”

“I’m aware.”

“Why? This-“ You catch yourself before you spit out something overtly rude. “I mean, thank you for the braiding, but why the bell?”

Sun’s face is unreadable for a moment, his sun rays turning *click-click-click* in a way that you know he’s deep in thought. Then they snap to a stop and he claps his hands together. “Because! I need *some* way to keep track of you, don’t I? With your special talent of getting lost in straight corridors-“

“That was one time!”

“-and inability to cry out for help-“

“I-I’ve been getting better at that, too!”

“-this will at least alert someone to your location if I can’t come fish you out in time.” Sun reaches around and dangles the bell under your nose. It rings loudly in the empty daycare. “I won’t be hearing any negotiation around this, either! It’s staying on no matter what!”

So in other words, it’s basically like you putting a bell on your cat, Muffin. You suppose any regular human will find this offensive, but you can’t bring yourself to say that when you see how carefully the ribbon is wound into your hair, imagine how Sun must have leaned over your back in deep concentration to tie the bell in your hair…

“Thanks, Sun,” you sigh, your ears flushing brightly. “For the braiding and the bell. It… it looks nice.”

Sun puffs up with pride. “Of course it turned out nice! *I’m* the one responsible for it, after all. Did you expect anything less?”

“Nah, that’s not it. Just…” You fiddle with the cold metal thoughtfully. “It’d be a shame to have to take this out at the end of the day. I don’t think I’ll be able to tie it the same way you do.”

Sun tilts his head to you with a knowing grin.

It’s obvious what he’s waiting for. “Do you think you can *help* me?” you ask, failing to smother the self-conscious grin tugging up your lips. “Please?”

“Oh, if you insist, then I’ll take time out of *my* busy, busy schedule to help you.” His long-suffering tone clashes with the gleeful glow in his eyes, as does the way he claps his hands together.

Your grin comes easier this time. “Thanks, Sun. I really appreciate it.”

His expression melts into something you don’t see often on him (*warm*) but he snaps out of it before you can dwell on it too much. He yells something about clean-up and dashes off to the craft tables while you follow hot on his heels, both sets of bells jingling in tandem with yours and Sun’s movements.

The topic of the bell mostly fades from the forefront of your mind, until Moon shows his mug late into the night.

You’re lingering around the cafeteria area, hours after your shift is supposed to have ended, waiting for Moon to arrive for your semi-regular “show and tell” session when you hear the telltale chime of a bell above your head. It takes you a moment to realise why it sounds weirdly echoey.

“Hullo, Moon,” you say to the figure descending from the ceiling. The mechanical whirr of unwinding cables precedes the twin red eyes illuminating the rest of his face, and he lands on the edge of the table with graceful precision, hunched just outside the light’s reach. “You ready for today? I got this book from my brother, it’s-”

Just as you turn to fetch it, an arm suddenly snakes out and snatches up your new braid with a harsh jangle. You freeze, eyes slowly travelling from the bell in your hair to his bare wrist. “Oh. Um. Do you like it? Sun offered, so…”

Moon doesn’t move an inch.

“I, um. This was a surprise to me, too! But it would’ve been rude to refuse, right?” His red gaze narrows at you, and worry starts to creep in your voice. “I-is this about your wrist bell? Did Sun not tell you he was giving this to me? Oh god, he didn’t, did he.” With cat-like footwork, he uses his cable to hop over your head and hover behind you, your braid still clutched in his hand. “MoOON!”

You try to pull it back, but a sharp tug forces your gaze to the table. You hear rustling fabric somewhere above your head. *‘He must be taking it back,’* you think. The notion saddens you a bit, but it *is* both Sun and Moon’s property to begin with. It’s their right to take it back anytime they-

Your braid suddenly slaps against your back with *twice* the weight than it first started. Moon circles back around to hunch before you again, eyelids pulled up in a mischievous gaze. “Eh?”

You pull the length of hair over your shoulder. At the end of it holds not one, not zero, but *two* sets of bells. You glance over to Moon, and his now bare wrists confirms the absurd reality you’re in right now.

“Moon?”

His head tilts with a questioning creak.

“First of all, thanks for scaring five years off my lifespan. Second, *why*.”

“Why what?” his raspy voice snickers back.

“You know what I mean! Why put another set of bells on me? One’s already enough to, er, call for Sun’s attention if I need help. I don’t need *two*.”

Oddly enough, the mention of Sun puts a definitively sour note in Moon’s grin. “… Naughty.”

You falter. “I’m sorry?”

“Sun. Naughty, naughty little *liar* misleading Starbite.”

“Liar? As in, he’s lying about why he gave it to me?”

He shuffles closer to you, grin widening a tick.

“I’ll… take that as a ‘yes’. But again, *why* the lying? Why give me the bells at all?” you ask, frustration leaking into your words.

Moon’s body shakes with silent laughter, completely unfazed by your scowl. “Sun’s a scaredy-cat~” he says in a sing-song voice.

“Oh, *is* he now.” You prop your elbows on the table and lean closer, eyebrows raising. “Okay then, why did *you* stick bells on me?”

“A gift.”

The lack of hesitation takes you off guard. “O-oh. Um. That’s… What’s the occasion?” Did you forget your birthday again?

“As thank you,” Moon says simply, any signs of mischief fading for a moment. “For staying behind to see me, and for bringing me new things to see everyday.”

Your jaw drops. “Seriously? You gave me something this important for a couple of books? Moon, it’s really no big deal, I *wanted* to do this. You didn’t have to-“

His eyes narrow into warning slits.

You try to protest some more, but all of your arguments die a pathetic death in the face of Moon’s stoic stare. “*Alright*, I get it, you can stop looking at me like that.” You fiddle with your braided hair, and the gentle chime spurs you to blurt out, “Thank you, I-I’ll take care of it. Promise.”

The warm glow in your chest spikes up to your face. If Moon’s spontaneous bout of giggles is anything to go by, it’s very noticeable. “Well, um! What about Sun? I don’t remember doing anything for him, so what’s his deal, huh?” you babble, the heat in your face growing worse by the second.

His grin turns absolutely predatory.

“Is he talking to you now?” you ask.

“Yes. Insists he did *not* mean it as a gift, and it is *not* for being so kind and patient with him for all these weeks.” If words could be eye-rolls, Moon’s would have popped out of their sockets by now. “Whatever you think he’s saying, it’s *not* that. His words, pinky promise.”

It’s so stupid. So stupid in fact, that you can’t hold back the belly laugh bubbling out of your mouth, and you hide your face before Moon can have more ammo to tease you with. “Oh my *god*,” you two are going to be the death of me,” you mumble into your hands. “But… thank you.”

You can hear Moon’s systems rumbling like a cat’s purr. You don’t see any outward reaction from Sun, but if you had to guess, it’d be a lot of huffing and puffing about making sure to take good care of your presents.

“Alright, enough of that.” You pull out the book from your bag. “Let’s get on with this so that you can start your patrols soon.”

The night passes by more or less as usual, with the exception of the comforting weight that accompanies you all the way back to your apartment. It’s almost like you have a piece of Sun and Moon with you…

When you go to bed, you make sure to carefully set both bells on your bedside table, where you’ll see them first thing in the morning. “Night,” you whisper before rolling over in bed, sleep overtaking you.