#this was your idea lol and it has been nothing but a joy

[girlscomehome]

the babysitter: revised

pairing: babysitter!abby x fem!reader cw: NSFW & MDNI… kinda… college!reader, Y/N use imsry, reader is a big family guy lol, not proofread. wc: 1.7k a/n: hiiiiii i was on hiatus for sooo long… so here’s a revised vers of the babysitter bc it makes me cringe and lowk this vers does too and it's a series… :p

“I-I know, Mom! I know! I’ll be home next break, I promise,” you shift the phone from your left cheek to your right, pinching it between your shoulder and ear to keep it steady. “I’m kind of busy right now… I’ll call you later, okay? Sorry!” You hang up quickly, stifling a giggle at her persistence.

She has no idea, you think to yourself, biting back a grin.

You stuff your phone into your back pocket and hurriedly shove an armful of clothes into an old, worn duffel bag. Grabbing a sticky note, you scribble, At parents’ house. Don’t eat my snacks. Love, the best roommate ever, Y/N. Slapping it onto your desk, you speed-walk out of the dorm, already pulling your phone back out to punch in your childhood home address on Google Maps.

Finally. After months, you’re home. You’ll get to see your brother’s chubby little face, and feel the warmth of Mom and Dad’s hugs. You missed this—being small, being here. Even your brother, who still wears those ridiculous Star Wars onesies, feels like a comfort you’ve been craving.

You relax your shoulders as your grip on the steering wheel loosens, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. In quick motions, you grab the spare house keys from the glove compartment, sling your duffel bag over your shoulder, and step out of the car.

As you approach the house, your eyes scan it with a mix of nostalgia and surprise. The pale blue paint has faded, the window sills are cracked, and the roof shingles look… tired. It’s only been a year, you think, your chest tightening. How do Mom and Dad look?

You twist the key in the lock as quietly as possible, ease the door open, and shut it with a soft click.

“Surprise!” you yell, dropping your bag with a thud and throwing your arms wide, expecting Mom and Dad to leap out in shock and joy.

Except… that’s not what happens.

Instead, you’re greeted by a tall, muscular blonde woman who looks like she could bench-press you. Her eyebrows shoot up, her blue eyes narrowing as she stands from the couch with a startlingly intimidating presence.

“Who the fuck are you?” she demands, her tone sharp, her stance defensive. She looks ready to throw hands.

“W-Wait! I’m Y/N!” you stammer, stepping back. Her expression hardens. “Y/N Y/L/N!” you repeat, this time emphasizing your last name like it’s supposed to mean something to her.

Her posture softens just a little. “Oh. Shit. Sorry,” she mutters, brushing a hand through her blonde braid. “I’m Abby. The babysitter. I forgot the Y/L/Ns had another kid.”

You laugh nervously, picking your bag up. “Yeah, I’m the older one. Where’s my brother?”

“Upstairs. Asleep,” she says flatly, gesturing toward the staircase. “I’m just waiting for your parents to get home.”

She turns away, plopping back down on the couch with a casual ease that screams confidence. Her cargo pants cling to her muscular thighs as she spreads her legs, leaning back. You can feel her eyes on you, sharp and assessing.

“What are you staring at?” she smirks, her voice low and amused.

You blink, snapping out of it. “Uh, nothing!” you laugh awkwardly, feeling heat creep up your neck. Without thinking, you sink onto the couch beside her, unable to stop yourself from stealing glances at her. Up close, her skin looks impossibly smooth, her features striking in a way that makes your chest tighten.

“Why’ve I never met you before?” you ask, your curiosity slipping out.

“Just moved here,” she replies, her voice husky. Her lips curve into a smirk. “You waiting for me to offer you a drink? From your own house?”

You laugh, relaxing into the cushions. The tension between you is almost tangible, and you’re desperate to break it. But instead of saying something, your body moves on its own.

You lean forward, closing the space between you, and kiss her. It’s clumsy and impulsive, but her hands immediately find your hips, grounding you. She pulls back just enough to laugh softly, her breath brushing against your lips.

“You’re bold,” she murmurs before kissing you again, this time deeper, hungrier.

Abby’s hands trail up your back, her fingers pressing into you just hard enough to make you shiver. She smirks against your lips when she feels you react, her grip shifting to your hips to pull you closer. The kiss deepens, heat pooling in your core as her confidence and control take over.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You know that. But it doesn’t stop you. Her lips are addictive, her scent intoxicating.

When Abby finally pulls away, you’re breathless, your lips tingling. Her gaze locks with yours, her eyes darker now, filled with something that sends a thrill down your spine.

“You’re something else,” she murmurs, her voice low and husky. Her hand brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, lingering against your cheek.

“I could say the same about you,” you reply, your voice softer than you expected.

She laughs lightly, leaning back into the couch, her fingers still resting against your hip. For a moment, the tension between you shifts, softening into something almost comfortable. You study her, the sharp lines of her jaw, the faint freckles across her nose, the way her braid hangs over her shoulder.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Abby asks, tilting her head slightly.

“Like what?” you ask, feeling your face heat up.

“Like you’re trying to figure me out.”

“Maybe I am,” you admit.

Her lips twitch into a smile. “Good luck with that.”

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway breaks the moment. Abby sits up straight, her head turning toward the window. “Shit,” she mutters under her breath.

“Is that my parents?” you ask, panic bubbling up in your chest.

“Yeah, that’s them.” Abby stands quickly, pulling you up with her. “You need to—uh—go upstairs or something. I don’t think they need to walk in on this.”

You grab your bag and rush toward the stairs, your heart pounding in your chest. Just as you reach the top, you glance back at Abby. She’s standing in the living room, adjusting her braid and smoothing out her cargo pants like nothing happened.

“Hey,” she says, her voice just loud enough for you to hear.

“Yeah?”

“This… isn’t over.” Her smirk returns, and it sends a spark of excitement through you.

You nod, turning away before she can see the blush spreading across your cheeks.

Once upstairs, you tiptoe toward your old room, pushing the door open as quietly as you can. The familiar scent of the space hits you immediately—laundry detergent and the faintest hint of lavender from an old candle on your dresser. You set your bag down, your mind still spinning from everything that just happened.

What were you thinking? What was she thinking? You press your fingers to your lips, still swollen and sensitive from her kisses, and flop onto your bed. Your heart is still racing, and the faint hum of adrenaline lingers in your veins.

Sleep doesn’t come easily, and every time you close your eyes, you see her—her sharp blue eyes, her confident smirk, the way her hands felt on your body. You toss and turn, trying to will yourself into calm, but it’s no use.

The next morning, you wake to the sound of voices downstairs. You blink groggily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before realizing one of those voices is Abby’s.

You slip out of bed and creep toward the top of the stairs, peeking down into the kitchen. Abby is standing by the counter, talking with your mom. She looks relaxed, a mug of coffee in her hands, her braid draped over one shoulder.

Your mom laughs at something Abby says, and you feel a strange twist in your stomach. Jealousy? Embarrassment? You’re not sure. But when Abby glances up and catches your eye, her lips curve into a slow, knowing smile, and your cheeks heat up instantly.

Your mom is mid-conversation with Abby, her back to you. Abby’s standing by the counter, a mug of coffee in her hands, her posture casual and confident as always.

You pause, suddenly nervous. Would they even be happy to see you? It had been so long since your last visit.

Before you can second-guess yourself, your mom turns around, and her jaw drops.

“Y/N?!” she exclaims, her voice a mix of shock and delight. She freezes for a moment, as if she can’t believe her eyes, before rushing toward you and pulling you into a tight hug. “What are you doing here? When did you get in?”

Your dad, who was flipping pancakes at the stove, turns around with an equally surprised expression. “Is that—Y/N?! Oh my God, kiddo, it’s really you!” He drops the spatula onto the counter and strides over, joining your mom in the embrace.

“I missed you guys,” you say, your voice muffled against your mom’s shoulder.

“We missed you too!” your mom says, pulling back to look at you, tears glistening in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming? We could’ve picked you up!”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” you explain, smiling sheepishly.

“Well, you succeeded!” your dad laughs, ruffling your hair. “This is the best surprise we’ve had in ages.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Abby watching the scene unfold. She’s leaning against the counter, her arms crossed and a bemused smile on her face.

“Oh, wait, Abby!” your mom says suddenly, turning toward her. “You haven’t met Y/N yet, have you?”

Abby shakes her head, her smirk widening slightly. “Nope.”

Your mom doesn’t seem to pick up on the undercurrent in Abby’s tone. “Well, Y/N, this is Abby. She’s been staying with us for the past few weeks, helping out with everything while your dad and I juggle work. She’s amazing.”

“Yeah, she’s been a lifesaver,” your dad adds, smiling at Abby. “We couldn’t have asked for a better helper.”

Abby shrugs modestly. “Just doing my job,” she says, though the glint in her eyes as she looks at you suggests otherwise.

“Well, Abby, you’ve officially met the whole family now,” your mom says, beaming. “And Y/N, you’re just in time for breakfast. Sit down, we’ll make you a plate!”

You glance at Abby as you take a seat at the table, your cheeks heating up under her gaze. She doesn’t say anything, but the way she looks at you feels like a secret—one your parents are blissfully unaware of.

[helluva-hazbins]

Came for the amazing writing and portrayal of not only Lucifer but your other characters and stayed for the same reasons and just how much fun writing with you is :3 I’m really happy we’re writing together and chatting more! I’ve always wanted to but have been too shy to reach out ;w;

"It has been my absolute pleasure and joy, my sweetest~"

[watchmegetobsessed]

UNMATCHED II.

A/N: soooo you guys were just as horny for a part 2 to this story as i was so here we are, giving in to the temptation. disclaimer, i know their behavior is giving red flag energy but lets just put that aside for the sake of the story now lol

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

WARNING: sexual content, age gap, student-professor relationship

SUMMARY: Harry has been trying his best to forget what happened with Y/N, he is set on never making the same mistake, but it seems like fate has different plans for him.

PART 1 | MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

That skirt. That goddamned skirt. That’s gonna be the death of Harry. 

And also the fact that she went back to that asshole. 

Sitting in the busy school cafeteria Harry has zoned out of the conversation at the table a long time ago, precisely when he saw Y/N stroll in wearing that short skirt with that dickhead she should have ditched already or better, she shouldn’t have even dated him in the first place. But now they are moving in the line with their group of friends and he has his hand on her waist and it keeps inching lower, just a few more inches and his hand could be slipping under her skir–

“Harry? Hello?” 

Stella catches his attention and he is forced to move his focus back to his colleagues at the table. 

“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” He clears his throat and keeps his eyes on his half-eaten sandwich in front of him. 

“What’s up with you? You haven’t been your usual self lately.”

“Just… tired. I’m behind with my research and have a bunch of papers to grade before winter break.”

“The joys of being a teacher,” Stella chuckles. “Don’t worry, it’ll get better with time.”

“Really?”

“No,” she smirks at him. “But you’ll care less.”

She soon returns to the conversation at the table and Harry finds himself looking for Y/N again. There’s no trace of her in the line, but he is quick to spot her at a table across the dining hall, sitting beside Dickhead who has an arm around her neck, keeping her close as he wants everyone to know that they are together.

And it irks Harry way more than it probably should. 

It’s been a little over a week since Stella’s Christmas party and also that very heated and very wrong kiss he shared with Y/N. That weekend was like hell, he kept beating himself over and over about it, cursing himself out for being so stupid and reckless. He still has no idea what came over him that let him make out with a student, but he knew one thing for sure: it couldn’t happen again. 

So when Y/N walked into the classroom before his first lecture early on monday he didn’t even let her speak before he got to the point. 

“It shouldn’t have happened. I’m so sorry for it, but I can’t undo it now. I suggest let’s pretend nothing happened, it’s for the absolute best. No one can know about it and it will never happen again.”

She seemed taken aback by his outburst, but after a bit of hesitation she nodded.

“Okay. Nothing happened. It must have been the wine.”

“Yes,” he agreed right away. “We both drank more than we should have and made a mistake.”

She flinched at his last word, but didn’t protest, only nodded, holding her textbooks tighter to her chest. She looked so sad, even disappointed that Harry almost wanted to take back what he just said, but he knew he couldn’t. 

“Are you… okay?” he dared to ask, but when she looked at him again, her eyes told nothing. 

“I’m fine. I’ll see you in class, professor.”

And she was out of the classroom before he could say another word. In class she sat in the back and not even once did she look at him. He knows, because he kept looking at her. 

He’s been trying his best to get her out of his head, but with not much luck. Not when all he can think about is how soft her lips felt against his, how insanely good she tasted mixed with the coldness of the night, how amazingly she fit into his palm, the curve of her neck, back, waist and hips… and how badly he wants to experience it again even though it’s the worst possible idea. 

Harry thinks he is going insane. Genuinely. 

He’s been burying himself into work, but his focus has been all over the place, so it’s been more like a waste of time. He is one of the last ones in the building today as well. Most professors left a long time ago, but the lights in Harry’s tiny office are still on as he is hunched over a stack of papers. When he has to read over the same line for the twentieth time he drops his pen with a tired groan and leans back in his chair. He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes roughly, until he is practically seeing stars. 

“Fuck,” he huffs, staring at the papers that are still waiting to be graded. Checking the time on his phone he is surprised to see that it’s already past seven.

He stands from his chair and steps to the window. The campus looks quiet at this time, only a few students are walking towards the dorm that’s next to the literature department’s building. It’s a wednesday night, the semester ends next week so some lucky students who have no more exams left in the year have already left for the holidays. Harry will be going home right before Christmas, he plans to use those few days of the break to work on his research in peace. 

From his window he sees part of the parking lot next to the dorm, it’s quite dark there, he almost doesn’t notice the figures sitting in the car closest to him, but a few heartbeats later realization hits him.

It’s Y/N and the dickhead. 

They are pretty far, but Harry can tell that they are in a heated fight, judging from how Y/N is gesticulating. Obviously he can’t hear them, but if he had to guess he would say she is shouting, from what he can see. 

For a moment he tells him to just ignore the scene, it’s none of anyone else’s business, let alone his. But when he sees the asshole slap his hands against the wheel several times, making Y/N jump, Harry is moving before he could second guess his actions. 

He practically sprints down that stairs, already trying to figure out how he’ll interject without appearing like a creep, but he forgets all his plans when he is marching towards the parking lot and sees the scene unfold from up close. 

At some point they must have gotten out of the car, because Harry catches the dickhead getting back into the driving seat, Y/N is crying and tries to stop him from shutting the door, but he swings it with such force that she stumbles forward, holding onto the handle. When Harry sees her almost fall to the asphalt he starts running, just as the car comes to life and he drives away so fast, he almost runs over Y/N’s feet. 

“Fuck you, Charlie! Fuck you!” She screams after the car, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Harry rushes over to her, grabs her by her shoulders and turns her away from the direction of the car. “Hey, what happened?”

She is gasping for air from the crying as she wraps her arms around her, those beautiful eyes that are usually filled with curiosity are now full of confusion and hurt. 

“Y/N, look at me,” he begs and she hiccups a few times before she finally looks him in the eyes. 

“H-Harry?”

He ignores how good it feels to hear her call him by his first name again and tries to focus on the situation.

“Yeah. Let’s get inside, okay? It’s freezing cold.”

She nods and lets him steer her towards the building and up to his office. By the time she sits in the old armchair in the corner of his office she has stopped sobbing, but her expression looks just as miserable as before. 

“I’ll make you a tea. Do you like tea?” he asks, stepping over to the tiny side table where he keeps his kettle and tiny tea collection with two mugs. She nods and he is quick to turn on the kettle. He grabs a chamomile filter and drops it into one of the mugs and while the water boils he hands her a box of tissues that she accepts with a quietly murmured thank you. 

When the tea is done he hands her the mug and sits in his chair, unsure what to say. He definitely did not plan to have her in his office anytime soon and definitely not like this. 

“Go on, lecture me about being with him,” she says at last, staring into the mug in her hands. 

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“But you’d be right.” She looks up at him, eyes still red from the crying. 

“Why did you go back to him?” he softly asks, not wanting to make her feel even worse. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, looking away again. “He could be convincing, I guess.”

“Hope you won’t believe him after this.”

“No,” she chuckles bitterly before taking a sip from the tea, leaning back in the armchair. “Not even the sex will convince me to go back to him.”

Harry’s muscles jump at her words. Not because he is such a prude, but because instantly he is thinking about sex… and her… and his body reacts involuntarily. Clearing his throat he crosses his legs and looks anywhere but at her.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” she chuckles softly, but she doesn’t seem sorry at all. 

“No, I… um…” Harry has no idea what to say. This feels like such an impossible situation, he is definitely walking on eggshells here and the fact that he is semi-hard does not help his case. 

While he is looking for the right words she places her mug to his desk and crosses her legs, a curious look playing in her eyes as she is looking at him. She appears calm and confident suddenly, like she wasn’t sobbing ten minutes ago. 

“I lied,” she then speaks up.

“About what?”

“I know why I went back to him.”

“Oh. Okay, why did you?”

She holds his gaze for one… two… three seconds before her lips part, then she hesitates for one more moment before answering. 

“Because I couldn’t go to you.”

A shiver runs down his spine at her words, his body is betraying him already, but he hangs onto the last bit of his rationality.

“Y/N, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t tell the truth?”

“We agreed that we are not talking about it again.”

“I’m not talking about that night. I’m talking about how badly I’ve been wanting you, but knowing I can’t have you I went back to Charlie even though I knew I shouldn’t have.” 

“Y/N…” His mouth is dry and he feels ridiculously hot even though the heating hasn’t been working too well lately in his office. He is clawing at the arms of his chair, trying to keep the remains of his cool, though it feels like he is hanging on a thread.

“I won’t do anything about it, don’t worry. And I won’t bring it up again.” She sounds different this time, the confidence has turned into what feels like disappointment and it lurches something in Harry’s gut. 

Standing she smoothes her clothes before looking at Harry, a tiny sliver of expectancy glistening in her eyes. 

“Thanks for the tea. I better get going.”

She is already moving towards the door when Harry jumps to his feet, entirely lost about what to think, do or say. He strides after her and just when she is about to reach for the knob, he grabs her other hand, stopping her mid action. 

But he has no idea why he just did that. His rationality is screaming at him, but with each passing moment he spends holding her hand, the noise gets farther and farther away until it’s lost somewhere in the back of his mind. 

Slowly, she turns her head, eyes taking in the sight of their touching hands before her gaze meets his. He instantly stumbles back, letting go of her like she was on fire, but she doesn’t seem surprised. Instead, she turns around and just stands there, with a calm, but determined look on her face. 

“Careful professor,” she then speaks up. “I might take your actions as a hint.”

“A hint…” he breathes out, almost mesmerized with her, he is convinced she’s put a spell on him, because he can’t move or think straight, he just keeps staring at her.

“Yes, a hint,” she nods shortly. “That you want me just as much as I want you.”

He swallows down a moan that almost slips through his lips at her words. His whole body is burning for her, palms sweating and itching to touch her and he can almost taste her on his tongue again, desperate to pick up from where they left off not long ago. 

The tiniest smirk tugs on the corners of her mouth when she sees just how much he is struggling and she takes it as her queue to push her luck just a bit further. She takes a step closer to him, but still leaves some space between them, wanting him to close those last inches. 

“You know you can have me.” She cocks her head to the side, blinking up at him innocently. “Right here, on your desk or in that armchair. I want to be your good girl and take whatever you give me.”

“Stop it,” he manages to breathe out, but all his strength is gone, it sounds more like a plea rather than an order. 

“What if I don’t?” she sassily questions. “Will you punish me?”

Harry whimpers. They both know he is close to breaking and she is not stepping down now and she’s determined to push him over the edge. Slowly she reaches up, drags a finger across her lips before moving then down, tugging at her shirt at her chest, revealing more of the exposed skin there, then she starts playing with the top button, all while keeping her eyes focused on him. He sucks on his breath, his gaze keeps switching between her eyes and what her fingers are doing. 

Then it pops open, revealing the delicious swell of her breasts and a bit of the lacy bra as well and he knows he is gone. 

“Close the curtain,” he simply orders and a sudden rush of excitement washes over her as she quickly moves across the room, drawing the curtains on the window and turning around she is expecting him to be in the same spot, but to her surprise he is right there and before she could say a word, his lips crash down on hers with such force she would have fallen back if he didn’t already have an arm around her waist. 

His other hand is quick to find its way to her throat first, then to her jaw, angling her head perfectly so he can devour her. 

He spins them around and she gasps when her ass meets the edge of his desk, still kissing her he pushes forward, blindly tossing everything on the desk aside to make room, something clatters as it falls to the ground but neither of them cares to even look. His hands are on the back of her legs and he helps her up until she is sitting on top of the desk. 

She eagerly opens her thighs and circles her legs around his hips, pulling him closer and when she feels just how hard he already is, pushing against her clothed center, she can’t help but moan at the sensation. 

“It’s a one time thing,” he pants when her fingers start to work on his shirt and his hands find the button of her jeans. 

“Sure,” she breathes out smiling.

“Just to get it out of our system.”

“Of course,” she nods eagerly, and a moment later she is tugging his shirt off his shoulders. 

Buttons come undone, clothes are thrown across the room and soon enough all of his focus is on her naked chest, his hands exploring the tender, heated skin before his head dips down and his mouth meets her hardened nipples. 

“Oh fuck,” she moans, head falling back as she has an arm around his shoulders, the other one planted behind her on the desk. All while his hands are tugging down her jeans, finally giving him the chance to touch her inner thighs, exploring the warmth and softness he’s been fantasizing about for so long. 

He gently bites on one of her nipples, making her back arch, burying his face between her breasts before he leans back to get rid of her jeans. She has a moment to admire his naked torso, all the tattoos he’s been hiding under his clothes, his pants are hanging around his knees and his erection is throbbing through the fabric of his underwear. She can’t help but smile at the sight, it’s surely one she’ll remember forever.

When her jeans are discarded on the floor he plants his hands on her thighs and pushes them wide open, revealing her drenched panties. He brings his thumb over the wet fabric, lazily drags it over her clit, making her tremble under his touch. Then keeping eye contact with her he pulls his chair under him, sits down and rolls closer so his face is perfectly lined up with her. With his eyes still locked on hers, he leans forward, moves her panties to the side and places a sloppy, open mouthed kiss to her throbbing clit, making her moan so loud, he digs his fingers into her thighs pulling back. 

“You need to be quiet,” he warns her and she just eagerly nods, watching him take her underwear off completely and go back to where he was a moment ago. 

Harry drinks up her taste, he licks, kisses and sucks on the right spots, making her see stars as her orgasm is building up. When she feels two of his fingers slip into her she grabs a handful of his hair, tugging on it. 

But right when she is about to tip over the edge he pulls back, leaving her in a heaving mess. Reaching into one of his drawers he grabs a condom and standing up he watches her lying on his desk, chest rapidly rising and falling while he rolls the condom on. 

To his surprise, she gets up and jumps off the desk, taking the initiative by pushing him down back into the chair and straddling his lap. His hands are quick to move to her ass as his cock wedges between her drenched folds. He hisses when she starts rolling her hips, making them both even more feral for what’s about to come. 

She leans forward and kisses him, her hand reaching down between them until it finds his cock. She gives him a few lazy strokes to which he hums lowly into her mouth. Then she stops her kisses, lips still brushing against his, eyes meeting again as she lifts herself up just enough to angle him underneath her and then slowly she eases down, letting him enter her inch by inch until she is filled entirely. She gasps at the feeling of her walls stretching around him and they both stop for a few moments, just savoring how perfectly they fit together. 

She plants both her hands to the base of his neck, kisses him again and starts moving her hips. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good,” he groans, locking his arms around her, fingers digging into her naked back and side as she starts to slowly pick up her pace, bouncing on him. 

When he starts thrusting upwards, meeting her movements, her head rolls back from how deep she feels him inside her, his tip reaching the perfect spot. 

“Yes, right there!” she gasps as he buries his head in her neck, kissing and sucking on the soft skin while keeping his rhythm. “I’m so close,” she breathes out, her hands raking through his messy hair. 

Wanting even more friction she adjusts herself and then starts moving faster and rougher, aching for the release. She looks down, her eyes meet his gaze and she just knows he is as close as she is. 

“Harry,” she moans and hearing his name fall from her lips is what pushes him over the edge.

Grunting, his thrusts get rougher and fall out of their fast pace, he pushes into her over and over again as he fills the condom and watching him fall apart helps her let go as well. He feels her walls tighten around him while he is still riding out the afterwaves of his own orgasm, her mouth hangs open, nails digging into his shoulders so harshly they surely leave marks. 

Then they both slowly come off their high and she leans forward, capturing his lips in a much softer kiss than the ones they’ve shared just minutes ago. He gladly returns, their lips melt together and his fingers gently roam her naked back while he is still inside her. 

They’re quiet when she moves off him and grabs a few tissues to clean herself up while he discards the condom. The clothes are picked up from the floor one by one and a sense of unsureness settles between them as they both get dressed. 

She was the only thing on his mind just five minutes ago, but now that the sex haze is gone, his thoughts start racing. What did he do? What will happen now? This shouldn’t have happened but still, he wants to do it again and again and again. 

As if she knew he was panicking inside, she steps to him, takes his face in her hands and pulls him into a long, passionate kiss that instantly makes him forget about everything else. 

“Don’t overthink it,” she whispers against his lips. “We’re adults.”

“I’m your teacher,” he hums.

“The semester is almost over. Grade my last paper and we’re done,” she simply says with very little care about his current status. But he is not that sold on it just yet, hesitation and worry is all over his face. “Did you not want it?”

“You know how much I wanted it,” he admits defeatedly. 

“Great. I wanted it too. And I want it again. So I’ll come by tomorrow again. You’ll bend me over that desk after I had your cock in my mouth, then tell me what grade I’m getting for the semester and we do it again after that.”

He is already feeling himself getting hard again. Deep down he knows he should say no, but he has no will left to fight with himself anymore. So all he does is nod and then kiss her. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, professor.” She grabs her coat from the floor and then walks out of his office like nothing happened. 

Harry falls into his chair and assesses the mess on and around his desk, staring at the spot where she was sitting not long ago. He knows he is making his biggest mistake ever, but sinning has never felt this good.

And right now he is willing to take this risk.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[sunsetchicane]

i love you, i'm sorry [QH43]

quinn hughes x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k

summary: two years after breaking things off with Quinn, you find yourself going to Game 1 of Round 2 of the Playoffs, completely unprepared to see the man you still harbour feelings for.

based off of: this is loosely based off of I Love You, I'm Sorry by Gracie Abrams

warnings: aggressive amounts of pining (like, probably annoying), two swear words, a few kisses, mentions of a breakup (so like, kinda angst? idk man), copious amounts of cheesiness, probably extremely inaccurate descriptions of the game, not great writing lol. let me know if i missed anything!

author's note: okay, i haven't written anything on here yet due to a horrendous case of writer's block and many hours of working. so, this is definitely not my best work, but it was a fun way to try move past my writing slump. i really do hope that anyone who reads this does enjoy! love, addi <3

Vancouver’s streets preserve memories well. You found that out when, even two years after things had fallen to pieces, you couldn’t go anywhere without seeing the two of you holding hands, sharing quiet laughs, and stealing kisses. You’d thought that after two years you would’ve been able to shake those memories off when they plagued your mind; but it was hard when he was plastered across banners and fans sported his jersey for half the year. 

He was making his name known throughout the NHL, and you couldn’t ignore the buzz around Quinn Hughes when the Canucks made it to the Stanley Cup Playoffs. 

After you and Quinn had broken things off, you had to find separate friend groups to belong in. The two of you had shared too many mutual friends. The group of ladies you did manage to find yourself among knew nothing about your past relationship with the captain of the Canucks. When the city was gearing up for the first round of the playoffs, even your friends couldn’t stop talking about the sport. 

You were standing outside, leaning against the railing on a BC ferry, returning from visiting family on the Island, when you received a call from your friend Lydia. You picked up without hesitation. 

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked. 

She immediately giggled, which honestly had you a little scared. “I have a surprise,” she said excitedly, the last word dragged out. 

You snorted. “Am I allowed to ask what it is?” 

“It’s a really big surprise, and you have to promise not to scream when I tell you,” she laughed, acting like a teenage girl again. It was one of the things you really did love about her – her ability to bring childlike joy with her wherever she went. 

“I promise not to scream, Lyd,” you assured her, hoping she was satisfied. 

She paused for dramatic effect, and you let her. You knew she was having fun with it. 

“We’re going to the first game of round 2 of the playoffs!” she squealed. 

Your phone nearly slipped through your fingers, almost lost to the sea. You stepped away from the railing, suddenly very glad there was no one on the deck with you. Your heart clenched in your chest. The last time you had been to a game was when you and Quinn had still been together. He wouldn’t even know you were in the crowd, but you would be painfully aware of him in the centre of the arena. 

“Okay, you’re even quieter than I thought you’d be,” Lydia commented, reminding you that there was someone on the other end of the line. 

You debated for a moment what to say. Would it best to just blurt out that you had dated Quinn Hughes and you were not exactly ready to go watch him play again? Definitely not. 

“Uh, yeah, I’m just surprised!” That wasn’t a lie. “How’d you get the tickets?” 

“My dad,” she said simply. “When I told him I wanted to go see the Canucks, he was suddenly the proudest parent in the world. You know how he is – once he gets an idea in his head, whether it’s planted there by me or not, he has to do it.” 

“Wow, that’s–that’s crazy!” you said stiffly, still unsure of how to act. 

“Yeah, and it gets better! We’re sitting right behind the Canucks’ bench!” 

You nearly choked on nothing. “What?” 

“I know, right? I don’t know how my dad managed it, but he did,” she told you, completely unaware of your stuttering heart. “Who knows, maybe we’ll catch some players’ eyes,” she joked, and you tried to force a laugh out with her. 

“Yeah, maybe.” What you didn’t add out loud was your brain screaming please no. 

After a few more minutes of chatting and you pretending to be completely sound of mind, Lydia said goodbye, telling you she would send the details soon. 

You pocketed your phone and leaned against the railing once more. You watched as the sun brushed the horizon, casting a beautiful pink against the clouds. Vancouver was getting close, and for obvious reasons, you were suddenly dreading it. You wanted to sit on the ferry until it returned to Vancouver Island. 

You sighed and rested your chin on your folded arms. You heard a faint buzzing sound above you, and lifted your eyes to the sky. A plane was coming to land at the Vancouver Airport. As it approached, you let yourself imagine it was Quinn flying back from Nashville, and you felt your heart tighten in your chest once more, because you were terrified to see him again, but also because you still missed him. Maybe you were scared to see him because you missed him. 

You dropped your forehead to your arms once more and groaned loudly, the ocean and the brightening city lights your only listening companions. 

When the morning of May 8th arrived, you found yourself unable to shake the anxiety that had made a home in your chest over the last few days. There was a tenseness in your shoulders that never left, and a squeezing at your heart that seemed relentless. 

The group chat you shared with your friends had been buzzing incessantly, the girls incredibly excited. Every now and then you made your fingers put a message out there that hopefully hid your anxieties from them. 

After much procrastination, you eventually made your way to your closet. After tugging on a simple pair of blue jeans, you reached towards the back of your closet. Your fingers closed around the unmistakable, thick material of the jersey. Taking a deep breath, you pulled it out. Your only Canucks jersey of course, had to be Quinn’s home jersey from two seasons ago. No one would know it was the jersey that he had pulled over his head before every home game. However, you knew. There was no C on the left side of the chest, and your mind was pulled back to the relationship you had shared.  

You often questioned why you and Quinn had even ended things. You missed him so much still, and you were plagued by the way you knew it had been the wrong choice. You had been growing apart as he was dealing with growing attention and expectations within his career, and a promotion at your own job had stolen your energy and attention. You had both been tired and short with one another, and eventually the tension built and had blown up in a terrible way. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force both the guilt and continued yearning out of your busy mind. 

When Lydia texted that she and the girls were on the way to your apartment, you reluctantly pulled the jersey over your head. The sleeves covered most of your hands, and the fabric fell past your hips and part way down your thighs. You pulled on a pair of shoes and left the safe space that was your apartment, locking the door behind you. 

Rogers Arena was packed and the energy in the building made you feel like you could start vibrating. You and your friends held hands so as not to get separated. You were glad when your friends made no comment on how tightly you squeezed their hands, or how sweaty your palms might have been. 

You were made significantly more nervous when you realised that Lydia had not been exaggerating about your seats. You were sitting right behind the bench. 

The arena was filling up steadily, and you sat there in between your friends, not speaking a single word. It had been a couple years since you had been here, and while you were very nervous, the familiarity came rushing back to you and it helped to slow your fast beating heart. 

If you closed your eyes, you could imagine Quinn smiling at you from the other side of the glass, and laughing when you blew him a kiss. 

You wrapped your arms gently around yourself, the once very stiff material of the jersey now very easily shifted and manipulated. You knew it didn’t smell like him anymore, but when you let yourself get lost in the feeling of his old jersey, it was like he was right there. You were wrapped in him still, and you doubted it would ever go away. 

You were shocked out of your own thoughts when your friends, along with the rest of the fans around you, started cheering. The Canucks and the Oilers were on the ice, starting to warm up. Your eyes searched the ice quickly, and gliding easily across the ice on the opposite side of rink, was the captain, the number 43 embroidered on his jersey, just like the one you adorned. 

Your own cheeks heated up when it really hit you that you were wearing his old jersey. You weren’t together anymore; what were you thinking? He could see you– what would he think when he saw you right behind his bench, wearing the jersey he had gifted you?

You suddenly wanted to throw up more than ever. He exchanged a few words with Elias, and laughed at something his buddy had said. Your heart ached in longing once more. You had missed his laugh so much. 

Quinn now had facial hair, something he hadn’t had when he was with you. His hair was longer, peeking out from beneath his helmet. He already seemed much more grown up. He looked like a captain, something who had become used to leading his team. Quinn had always been somewhat confident in his abilities as a hockey player, but it was easy to tell that he had really gotten used to his role on the team and had come into his own over the past two years. 

The girls grabbed your hands and walked into the aisle, just to get right up to the glass. Your face burned and you tried to hide behind some of your friends. You kept your heads down and your arms folded. 

Your friends held up hats and other paraphernalia that they desperately wanted signed by players. 

“Y/N!” One of your friends practically shouted. You suddenly noticed that they had all stopped cheering. You looked up to see them parted in front of you. 

Quinn was on the other side of the glass, looking right at you. 

Your friends shoved you up the glass, giggling and squealing. You nearly ran into the glass from the force of their shoves. Quinn laughed at you, his smile exactly how you remembered it. 

He pointed at the white Canucks towel in your hands and shouted, “toss it over!” The arena was so loud you were glad he had mouthed it clearly. You hesitated but threw the towel over. With one glove off and in the other hand, he caught it. He gestured to one of your friends to throw over the Sharpie she was holding. She did gladly, happy to be included. He caught it easily and started to write quickly on the white fabric. Your heart did flips while watching him, and your hands shook with nothing to hold onto. 

He finally capped the pen and threw both the towel and marker over the glass. You struggled to catch it, but thankfully, you managed to hold onto it. You held it flat before you. 

Meet me by my car after. Usual spot. Your breath stopped slightly when you saw a rushed heart drawn next to the words. You looked back up to see him putting his glove back on. He gave you a warm smile that set you on a fire from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. You took a deep breath and nodded to him. His smile widened slightly. Before he turned to skate away, you saw him mouth the words, “nice jersey.” You stuttered for a second, and he simply winked and turned. 

Your friends all screamed and crowded you, looking at the towel. 

“Usual spot? What the fuck is going on?” Lydia yelled over the noise, cackling. 

You just blushed and shook your head, returning to your seat with the towel gripped tightly in your hands. 

As the teams continued to warm up, you explained as quickly as you could that you and Quinn had once been together. Your friends, of course, were shocked but also very excited for you at the prospect of reuniting with him. You simply waved your hands in protest. 

“I don’t even know if he wants to get back together with me! He might just want to catch up or something… we’re cool now and I don’t want to mess anything up.” 

“Girl, please!” one of your friends shouted. “He drew a motherfucking heart and winked at you! Of course he wants you back.”

You all laughed and you embraced the next blush that warmed your cheeks. 

The players left the ice, and minutes later, the lights went dark. The deafening sound of nearly 19,000 people screaming almost broke your eardrums. Blue light filled the room, and you looked up to see what was playing on the large screens above you. 

You watched the intro video and let a nostalgic, giddy feeling overtake you. You couldn’t help but smile. 

The arena fell back into nearly full darkness. You heard the beginning of a familiar sound of twinkly guitar that dragged you right back to 2011. Goosebumps rose up along your skin all over your body. That was the last time the Canucks had made it to the Playoff finals, and you hoped dearly that they could get there again. The playing of Where The Streets Have No Name from their intro from 2011 made hope take hold of you.

You couldn’t help but raise your particularly special white rally towel in the air to wave alongside all of the other Canucks fans in the building. 

It had been surprisingly easy to get into the players’ parking garage. Despite it being two years since you had been in the building, you were recognized by several people, who let you walk wherever you wanted. 

Your friends had practically shoved you to go after the game, screaming after you to call them later. You had laughed and walked away, your steps lighter than they had been in a long while. 

You later found yourself standing by Quinn’s car. It was the same one he’d had when you had been together. Your hand brushed the shining hood of the car, and you could see yourself in the passenger seat, laughing at something he’d said as the two of you drove around downtown Vancouver. 

“Thank God you actually showed up.” 

You whipped around, seeing a freshly showered Quinn in sweatpants and a hoodie making his way towards you. 

You tugged on the hem of the jersey, your heart beating quicker and quicker with every step he took. 

He stopped in front of you, and when you looked up, you both spoke. 

“I love you.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. “You-what?” 

He bit his bottom lip before repeating himself. “I love you. I know it’s been two years, but-” 

“I love you, too,” you said quickly, blood roaring in your ears. “And I am so, so sorry. I never should’ve-” 

It was his turn to cut you off. “Don’t apologise, please. It’s not your fault.”

“Can you… can you please accept my apology, at least?” 

He smiled softly. “I forgive you. I’m sorry, too.” 

“I forgive you, too,” you whispered softly, your heart swelling with affection as you looked at him. You felt an intense relief flood your body. Your shoulders finally relaxed for the first time in what felt like years. He reached out and wrapped you in a warm hug. You melted into it, returning the gesture. 

“I missed you. So much,” you mumbled into his hoodie. 

One of hands gently scratched the back of your neck like he used to do. “I missed you, too.” He pulled away just enough to lean down and kiss your lips softly. Nothing had ever felt so natural. His playoff beard scratched your face and you laughed at the sensation, pulling away. 

“Not used to the beard,” you admitted, smiling widely. 

He smiled, too. “Yeah, what do you think? Should I keep it around?” 

You shrugged, leaning back into him. “Well, you’re very handsome either way.” 

“You think?” 

“Mhm. Your hair also looks very good. I like it longer like this,” you told him, ruffling his brown hair. He swatted your hand away and kissed your cheek. 

“Noted.” He looked down at me again. “Should probably get you a new jersey.” 

“Hm, you think I need the big ole C on here, Captain?” 

He shook his head, blushing. “Don’t call me that.” 

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him, bringing his head down for you to kiss. “Couldn’t help myself.” You grabbed his hands. “Congratulations on the big win, by the way.” 

“I can’t believe you came. I thought I was hallucinating or something when I saw you,” he told you honestly. 

“Well, I’m glad I came,” you admitted, running a hand through his hair. 

“You have no idea how happy I am right now,” he said, smiling wider than you had seen all night. 

You laughed, feeling pure joy in your heart. “I think I might have an idea.” 

[aerynwrites]

God Forbid

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

A/N: had this idea in my head and it wouldn’t leave so here you go lol. Sorry for the later than usual post but hope yall enjoy! Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: attempted SA, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, home invasion, breaking and entering, Simon saves the day as usual lol, gun violence, reader using a gun, soft at the end.

You can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips as you light the candle in front of you, the smell of vanilla and cinnamon hitting your nose once the wick catches and starts to burn. The windows in the living room connected to the kitchen are open, a gentle breeze shifting the gauzy curtains and bringing in the cool autumnal air. 

It’s the perfect day.

It’s a Saturday, so you have the day off work. The weather has been wonderful you’ve been listening to your favorite music as you practically glide across the kitchen most of the day baking or moving to tidy up the house. Even now, veggies sit half chopped on the kitchen counter, broth on the stove getting ready to boil and -

Simon’s coming home. 

That’s what made it the best day of all. 

He had texted you early that morning - long before the sun rose from the horizon. He said he’d be home around dinner time if all went well with flights and such, and you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered in your chest or the smile that split your lips. 

He’s coming home.

He had been away for six months this time - the longest he’s ever been gone. And while you were able to talk to him more often than usual, it just wasn’t the same as him being here. It never was. But you never complained. You knew what you were getting into when you started dating Simon - he had even tried to end things with you early on claiming you “deserve better than a ghost…”

But you’d shut him down and after some tears and reassurances on your part…he’d stayed. 

But it wasn’t without conditions. 

He tried to keep his work life separate from his one with you. He truly did. But being in the military - being part of the task force he was - it made him paranoid. After a year of trying to shield you from his own worries and fears, he couldn’t do it anymore. 

You’d been hesitant when he brought up the fact that he wanted you to learn to defend yourself. You didn’t mind taking the self defense classes he’d signed you up for, even going so far as to accept training from Simon himself. But when he brought up the fact that he wanted you to learn your way around a gun…you’d almost said no. 

But the flash of fear in his eyes made you relent. Something had scared him, and nothing scares him. So you’d agreed - silently grateful when he mainly insisted on you just knowing the basic like where they safety is, how to hold it and of course how to fire. 

“God forbid you ever have to use one,” he said, voice grim. “But at least now you know how.”

All of it was worth it though. 

The joy he brings you when he’s here and the joy you bring him vastly outweigh anything else. 

You smile to yourself again as you move back to the cutting board. 

God…you can’t wait to see him.

The next while passes by slower than you’d like, the giddiness of his arrival making the arms of the clock seem to move at a snails pace. But as you’re moving to dump the vegetables into the stew, you hear the telltale sign of a the front door knob jingling.

Excitement explodes in your chest and you’re heading for the door before you can blink. It still hasn’t opened, and you let out a small chuckle as you reach the door, imagining Simon fumbling with the keys and muttering curses under his breath. You reach for the door, unlocking it and pulling it open with a laugh.

“I didn’t take you for the nervous type, Si-”

Your words cut off abruptly when you come face to face with a stranger on your door step. Three of them, actually. Tall, muscular, intimidating military types that make a pit open up in your belly. Your fingers tighten on the door, closing it every so slightly as to lessen the opening into your home. 

“Oh, uh…can I help you?” You ask, fighting off the dread settling in your stomach. 

You can’t pinpoint where it’s coming from, but alarm bells go off in your head as the two men in the back glance at one another for just a moment, whispers you’re unable to decipher leaving their lips. 

The one in front is the one to respond, words laced with an accent that you immediately identify as Russian. 

“You can, actually,” he says casually, one thumb hooked through his belt loops while the other rests casually above the pistol on his hip. “We need to speak to a Simon Riley. Is he here?”

At the mention of Simons name you struggle against the instinct to freeze up. All of Simon’s warnings from the past flooding to the forefront of your mind. 

“If someone ever approaches you asking about me, don’t answer them. Ever.” His voice is firm. “They aren’t asking after me in a friendly way,  I can promise you that.”

You smile, trying to feign confusion.

“I don’t know anyone by that name,” you lie, palms getting clammy. “Maybe you have the wrong house? You might want to try-”

A heavy palm settling against the door cuts you off, the man in front of you looking down at you with an evil grin. 

“Come now, little one. Please don’t lie - it just makes things harder.”

Panic shoots through you in an instant, and before the man can react you slam the door closed as hard as possible, flipping the deadbolt in place as you run back through the kitchen to where you left your phone. 

Loud curses come from the other side of the door, and just as you reach your phone you hear wood splintering from behind you as they kick the door in. You see Simon’s name lighting up the screen on your phone and you answer as you grab the kitchen knife from the counter and move to sprint towards the back door. 

“Simon!” You cry out, bumping into the couch in the living room as you hear thudding footstep behind you. 

“You need to get to a gun,” his voice is steady, unnervingly so. He must have seen the men approach on the cameras he has installed around the house. “I’m almost there, love, please-”

You can hear the roar of the engine in his truck in the background as you approach the back door. It’s so close, just within reach, if you can just-

Your fingers barely brush the knob before a thick arm is around your waist and in half a breath you’re airborne. It isn’t long, but the shock of your feet leaving the floor, your phone falling from your hand as well as the knife, it makes the impact against the coffee table that much worse. 

Air is forced from your lungs as you tumble roughly over the wooden surface, the table toppling over as you crash to the ground. The vase that was in the middle shatters as it follows you, and in a strange moment of delirium you can’t stop the wave of disappointment hat washes over you as the daisies that were in it scatter across the floor. 

It doesn’t last long though, because soon your lungs burn for air that you can’t seem to inhale, your eyes move to see the man that had thrown you as he stoops down to pick up your phone, clicking a button and allowing Simon’s booming voice to crackle though the speakers. 

“I’ll fucking kill you!” He spits, vitriol lacing every word. “If you lay a fucking hand on her, I’ll kill you myself-”

The man above you tuts mockingly as he approaches you, and you manage to find the wherewithal to rise up, hands behind you as you try to scoot away from him. You notice the other men pacing lazily around the room, seemingly unconcerned with the helpless woman on the floor. 

“Now, now, Simon,” he jeers, “You mustn’t be so violent. I simply came for a chat, that’s all.” 

The man’s hungry gaze never leaves you, but you don’t deviate from your path backwards across the living room carpet. The end table at the end of the couch is your goal - more specifically the 9mm pistol in it’s drawer, loaded and ready to fire whenever necessary. 

In a moment of sheer bravery you jump to your feet, lunging for the table and its contents. The metal is somewhat familiar in your palm, and you manage to it raised at the intruder and the safety switched off, but before you can do much else a skilled fist knocks the weapon from your grasp and you don’t see where either goes as you’re tackled  to the ground by one of the other men. 

He’s heavy on top of you, squeezing what little breath you had from your lungs rough fingers tangle in your hair. You barely have time to react before blinding pain erupts from your head as it connects painfully with the floor beneath you - once, twice, three times until the assault stops. 

Unfamiliar warmth trickles down your face, pain blooming from your nose and out in a spiderweb of pain as the tears finally come. You can just barely hear Simon’s enraged curses over the phones speaker, the entire world muffled as fear and panic and pain set in full force. 

You’re going to die. 

The man on top of you moves just enough to flip you over onto your back beneath him, the world spins around you, not stopping when your body does, and you have to fight the urge to vomit. The main assailant laughs cruley from where he stands above you, letting out a low whistle.

“You’ve got one feisty bitch, Simon. I’ll give you that…” he trails off for a moment, completely ignoring the curses being spit at him from the other end of the line. 

He nods at the man trapping you, and without hesitation you feel his hands move down to the waistband of your jeans. 

“I was honest,” the leader drones on. “We’re not going to kill her,” he appeases. “But you’re going to wish we did.”

You can’t stop the wail that escapes from your throat as he undoes the button of your jeans, your eyes immediately moving to check your surroundings for something - anything - that will save you. you feel the hope slowly  drain out of you as you shove uselessly at the man on top of you, until a soft glint of metal shines at you from beneath the couch. 

The gun. 

In a moment of pure desperation, pure panic - a moment of life or death - the classes that Simon insisted you take, force their way through your panicked mind. In one quick movement you thrust your hips upwards, managing to just ever so slightly throw the man above you off balance just as you bring the heel of your palm up into his jaw with as much force as you can muster.

The impact startles him, you can physically hear and feel his teeth clack together from the force of the blow as he lets out a shout. You use his surprise to buck him off of you just enough to scramble to the right. The metal is cool against your burning skin and you turn just as you feel his hands on you once more. 

The crack is deafening and your ears are ringing once more as dead weight settles in top of you. a chorus of shouts ring out around you but you can’t react, the body on top of you effectively trapping you to the floor your only weapon pinned between your chest and his. 

You seem to observe the world through a fish bowl, the sounds far away and vision distorted as your mind tries to make sense of the visceral fear coursing through your veins. You hear more shouting, louder this time, and more gunshots and all you can do is close your eyes and cry as you wait for the inevitable. 

But as soon as it started, it’s over. 

Silence backfills what the ringing  in your ears doesn’t, until you hear a faint call of you name. 

It’s just your name over and over until the weight that’s on your chest lifts and your eyes fly open in panic until stormy brown eyes capture your own as calloused yet gentle hands pull you up from the floor. 

Simon…

More tears flood your vision at the sight of the man you love in front of you, a strong arm wrapping around your waist. You can see his lips moving though the haze, but you can’t understand what he’s saying the ringing in your ears still blocking everything out, your panicked mind still scrabbling for control. 

Simon reaches up, snapping his fingers next to your ears a few times until you start to register the noise, and when you flinch, he stops - letting go of you only long enough to shed his jacket and bring the soft fabric up to your face. 

“Simon,” you say, his name coming out on a sob.

He shushes you softly, wiping gently at what you realize now, is the blood trickling down your face. 

“I’m here love, you’re alright, you’re safe…”

Finally you get your limbs to cooperate, hands reaching out to clutch desperately at his shoulders, balling the fabric of his shirt between your fingers. 

“A-are they…can they-”

Simon shakes his head, eyes filled with regret and sorrow. “They can’t hurt you. Not anymore. Made sure of that.”

At the acknowledgment of their demise, you break down even more, but this time out of utter relief. 

“I’m sorry,” you cry, moving to shelter yourself in the familiar warmth of his chest, “I - I tried. They asked abo-about you and I tried to stop them but I-” more tears interrupt your words and Simon just holds you tighter. 

“You did good, love” he assure you, his own voice breaking. “Goddammit,” he mutters. “I knew this was a bad idea, I knew it - I told you-”

You just clutch him tighter, shaking your head. 

“Please don’t,” you shudder, fear gripping you again. “Please don’t leave me.”

He drops the jacket opting to wrap both arms around you, holding you tightly against him.

“Never,” He promises firmly, lips pressing to your temple. 

He continues to hold you, rocking side to side gently until your cries quiet and you’re able to take full breaths once more. Only then does he pull away, examining you quickly. 

“I called the team when I found out what was happening,” he says quietly, hand reaching up to cradle your cheek. “They’ll be here any minute to deal with…all this.”

You nod, wincing at the jolt of pain it sends through your head, making a frown tug at his lips. 

“Let’s go get you cleaned up, yeah?”

You nod again, gentler this time, and Simon goes to stand. However, you stop him before he can get up, and he looks down as you wrap your arms around him again. 

“I still love you,” you tell him softly, able to read his inner insecurities from a mile away. 

He freezes at your words, struggling to accept them before letting his shoulder finally fall. 

“I love you too.”

[chrisevansonly]

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲’𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

ʚ charles leclerc x female reader

ʚ nothing is more special than watching your baby boy take his first steps…and of course watching your husband get emotional that his little one is growing up…

ʚ no warnings, very soft and fluffy

ʚ i really wanted to write a dad!charles so here we are even if i still feel iffy about my writing lol, i hope you guys enjoy it! requests are still open for little blurb ideas, fics, smau’s etc<3

For parents there was never a greater joy than watching their child grow, learn and get more and more curious as they became older. For little Théo Leclerc who had just turned 9 months, he was proficient at crawling and getting into anything and everything, you blamed his father’s drive and determination on that. He was as curious as babies come, intrigued in anything his mother and father were doing, he loved playing with coloured blocks, reading bedtime stories with his parents at night, he was the definition of a blessing to both you and Charles.

“good morning chérie, smells delicious down here”

You smiled turning to press a gentle kiss to Charles’s cheek, a soft smile on your face

“morning my love, thought i’d make some pancakes, Théo has been loving them”

“his mother is an amazing cook can you blame him? where is he anyway, it’s too quiet…”

You laughed pointing over to the little area you had set up on your living room, toys and books spilled across the hardwood floor

“he has been quite busy this morning, haven’t you petit prince?”

Cooing slightly at the mini Charles in the corner he giggled looking at you, upon noticing his father he began to wiggle on the floor, slowly making his way over on his hands and knees

“es-tu impatient de me voir bébé!?”

Théo squealed happily, finally making it to Charles who was quick to pick up the happy baby, who’s hands rested on his father’s face

“Look at that happy face! He’s so cute it makes me want to cry…are you so happy to see papa?”

You laughed seeing the smile on his face as he wiggled around in Charles’s arms, coming over to press kisses across his face only intensifying it

“You are going to squirm right onto the floor if you keep doing that”

Théo only giggled, his hands grabbing at the now cooking pancakes that rested on his plate

“Papa will put you in your chair and you can have some breakfast okay my love?”

“Can’t have you hungry can we little worm”

Snorting out a laugh you turned to him

“Little worm?”

“Have you seen him when he does that wiggle? You should hold him when he does it, he’s like a worm”

Shaking your head you couldn’t help but realize that was probably a good nickname for your son, when he got excited there was no stopping that wiggle.

-

Théo was quick to finish his breakfast, never leaving anything behind on his plate, so while you cleaned up, you set him down gently on the floor, though he never really stayed in one place, so as your back was turned he had made it over to his dad who was sitting in the living room, cleaning up the mess baby tornado had left behind. Upon reaching the couch, Théo had grabbed onto the couch to stand up, gripping onto the fabric he got to his feet, letting out a squeal, instantly catching the attention of Charles.

“What are you up too bébé, sois prudent…”

On instinct he moved a bit closer before pausing when Théo began to take steps towards him

“Chérie, regarde ça! Théo marche!”

Quickly turning to look towards the living room you grabbed your phone, immediately walking over to film your baby boy, tears in your eyes as you smiled

“Bravo petit prince! Tu vas si bien!”

Théo giggled walking a few more steps before collapsing into his fathers chest

“He-He walked! Char…he-I can’t believe he walked!”

Joining your boys on the floor you couldn’t help but notice the little tears that rested on your husbands cheeks as well, taking your thumb and gently wiping them off his skin

“I can’t believe it…he-he walked right to me, please tell me you got that”

Nodding you showed him the video once again on your phone, getting to experience the moment all over again, Charles hugging Théo closer

“You’re growing up too fast…can’t believe you’re walking”

“Aw baby, he’s still little…don’t worry”

You kissed his cheek gently, a hand rubbing Théo’s back softly

“Tu seras toujours le petit prince de papa, n'est-ce pas?”

He giggled wiggling around a little bit for Charles to put him back down, watching as he began to crawl around once again

“I’m going to miss him as a baby…”

“I know you will, but we still have some time…besides, who said we have to stop at one?”

Hearing your words Charles looked at you, a slight twinkle in his eyes

“Je suppose que nous avons du travail à faire…”

You smiled shaking your head before pressing a firm kiss to his lips, only pulling away when Théo began to walk once again, only this time heading away from you both

“Well here we go…”

Laughter filled the room as you and Charles took after your now very quick baby boy, what you thought was fast at a crawl, seemed to be lightning speed now that he was on his feet.

You wouldn’t change anything for the world, you’re family was perfect, and you couldn’t be happier…even if your little one was growing up too fast…

[mrs-kmikaelson]

Our Song and Dance¹

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader Summary: You'd grown used to dancing the same dance over and over again, the victor's dance, but then you start dancing with Finnick Odair and you feel things you never thought you'd feel. So you let yourself enjoy the dance, even though you knew that every song inevitably came to an end. Warnings: super-duper-duper long, exploitation of minors, forced prostitution, unrequited love, complicated relationships, violence, death, mental health issues, canadian spelling lol, and i make up some names (lmk if i missed smth) Words: 19.7K

Masterlist | Part 2

a/n: i alr have this finished, but it was way too long to post in one part (as you can see) so i split it up into three parts. this one goes from pre-hunger games to right before the quell. had this idea in my head as soon as i finished thg, so i hope u enjoy!

Y/N Y/L/N, victor of the 67th Hunger Games. You were from district 4, one of the youngest victors that not only your district has ever had, but also all of Panem. Of course, you weren’t the youngest; that title belonged to none other than Finnick Odair.

A man you hated with a passion and, frankly, a man who didn’t like you very much either.

You could still remember the night you met.

Snow was droning on and on, giving a speech about something you couldn’t care less about. It was all lies, anyway, and you were only gonna end up in some rich man’s bed tonight, so you’d prefer to go through that interaction as drunk as you could be. With that thought, you downed the rest of your flute.

“Ah, careful, Princess.” Before you even saw the person, you knew it was him. His voice was so easily recognizable, even though you had never met, not even after living in the same district, then the Victors’ Village, or even at these little Capitol parties. 

Finnick.

You turned, a faux smile on your face that he fully reciprocated. “Snow wouldn’t want the Capitol’s pride and joy to be under the influence,” he said, teasing but with an undertone that put you off.

You didn’t give a damn what Snow thought, but you weren’t gonna say that, especially not in his own home. Instead, you gave him the smile you gave the rest of Panem and directed the topic of conversation away from the President. “I won my Games, Finnick. Trust me, I’m not a lightweight.” Oh, but you wish you were. You wish you could get so drunk that you’d forget who you were entirely.

A part of you felt bad: twenty-three other people died while you walked out of the arena, and yet you wanted nothing more than for your life to end. A part of you wondered if the great Finnick Odair ever felt this way, either, but it wouldn’t be good small talk to ask.

Finnick’s grin only widened. “Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

Your eyes just so imperceptibly narrowed. “Likewise.”

He started to walk away, but he suddenly paused like he forgot something, leaning closer to you. Your breath got caught in your throat when you felt his on your neck. Your eyes locked, and all of a sudden, you wondered how it was possible that you never noticed how beautiful his eyes were. 

“May the odds be ever in your favour, darling,” he whispered, and then he walked away without giving you another glance.

That night, Finnick didn’t leave your mind. It wasn’t until there was a resident of the Capitol lying on top of you that you stopped thinking about him. When you were in that position, you stopped thinking about everything, really.

When you walked out of your hotel room, done with your little job, Finnick was brought back to the forefront of your mind as your eyes met his. He looked like he was in the same state as you, also having been leaving a room. He looked surprised to see you.

You stared at him for a moment, but then you let yourself disappear down the hallway before he could say anything.

You knew what that meant; you knew it wasn’t his own room that he was leaving. When you got to your own room, you realized you were much more alike than you thought. You supposed that you couldn’t be surprised; Finnick was desirable, so of course Snow would put him up for sale.

You were in the exact same boat.

Since that night, you saw him in a different light.

You two didn’t talk when you got back home, no, but at your next Capitol event, you decided that you’d refuse to leave him alone, to leave someone who was going through the same thing as you to their own devices. That’s what you told yourself, but deep down, you just didn’t want to suffer in silence, either.

So you went and found him after a night with another Capitol pig. Standing outside, hands in his pockets, he looked so calm, but you saw a storm brewing in his eyes that only few could ever decipher.

You went and stood next to him, even though it was freezing cold out. He glanced over at you, and then his face became surprised, not surprise at you being there, but at you being there with him. Neither of you said anything; it was either that you were too afraid of a jabberjay overhearing or of yourselves. You just stood there in a comfortable silence.

You’d learn that, with Finnick, sometimes doing nothing could mean everything.

The two of you went on to do this every time you were there until, slowly, you graduated from just silence to holding each other. Oh, Finnick Odair was a cocky asshole, but when you were in the Capitol, he wasn’t him and you weren’t you. You were just two people that needed comfort, and that was enough.

You still didn’t talk, though, and when you were at home, you didn’t communicate at all. That was why you were surprised when you answered your door to see him standing on the other side.

Finnick went back to being Finnick, striding into your home without so much as an invitation. This caused you to roll your eyes, but they suddenly widened at his words. “Caesar Flickerman is on TV, saying that we’re dating.”

If you were drinking something, you would’ve spit it out. “What?” An incredulous look was painted onto your face.

Finnick, on the other hand, was a little more stoic, not exactly the charmer he was on television or in Capitol balls, but you could easily guess why—and if you hadn’t, then he was gonna tell you, anyways. “You know what this means.” He looked you in the eye, jaw clenched. “Two of Snow’s best—the Prince and Princess of Panem—dating? It’s the last thing he wants.”

“Finnick-”

“No, he won’t be able to sell us if we’re together, and if he can’t sell us, then he’ll start killing the people we love.” This was the first time either of you were even acknowledging the situation you were in.

You felt stung for some reason, even though you didn’t love Finnick—and he didn’t love you. But, deep down, no matter how much you tried to repress it, you knew there was something between you, so hearing him speak to you this way, like you were just nothing, hurt.

However, you got over your feelings quickly, the same way you always had. You moved your thoughts away from your heart and started thinking with your head. You were quiet for a second until you let out a soft gasp, like a light bulb went off in your head.

This time, you made eye contact with Finnick effortlessly. “What if this is exactly what we need?” You asked, a glint in your eye that he hadn’t seen before.

The blond scoffed. “I don’t see how our families dying is exactly what we need, Y/N.”

“No- no, Finnick, you already said it.” You grabbed onto his shoulders. “The Capitol- hell, everyone already thinks we’re the Prince and Princess of Panem. If we give them what they want, then- then we’d be unstoppable.” You paused to let him weigh in, but he only stared heavily at you, not a trace of what he was thinking on display, so you continued, “Snow and all of those Capitol motherfuckers will eat this shit up, Finnick. And then we’ll be free.”

You were trying not to show any emotion, either, but you couldn’t help it. At the mere thought of freedom, something you never thought was possible, you felt so many different things at once. While you were holding your feelings on your sleeve, Finnick was less easy to read.

But, in seconds, you knew exactly how he felt.

“We will never be free, Y/N.”

He walked out after that, leaving you alone in your living room. He’d never know it, but you stayed in that same spot for three hours, staring at where he once stood. His words had awakened something in you, the part of yourself that’d been thrown into the Hunger Games at only fifteen-years-old. 

At the time, you thought you were going to die. You were hopeless, but after you won, you realized there was hope after all. You could still make it. Even as Snow allowed your body to be violated, your mind to deteriorate, you still had hope. But Finnick’s words brought back that frightened little girl in you that you thought died.

You’d later realize just how lucky you were that he buried her again. He came back and told you that he’d do it, and as easily as he brought that little girl back to life, he drowned her.

It wasn’t easy at first, pretending to be in love. You didn’t know the first thing about it, but Finnick helped you as if he’d been doing it all his life.

“C’mon, Y/N, it’s gonna be fine-”

“No, it’s not gonna be fine. Caesar’s gonna call us out immediately- and if he doesn’t, then Snow will-”

“Y/N.” Finnick cut off your nervous ramblings with a stern calling of your name. Even him saying your name was still weird to you. You weren’t used to so much conversation with the victor, but now you were gonna have to pretend to love him. “We’re gonna be fine.”

You weren’t convinced, and he saw that with the twitching of your fingers. You knew Finnick was a great actor, and normally you were, too, but this situation was unlike any other that you’d ever been in. It was foreign territory for you.

“Look,” he grabbed onto your hand, “whenever you get nervous up there, you just hold my hand, alright? You’re not alone in this, okay? I’m right here.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say your heart skipped a beat. If you didn’t know any better, you’d even say you felt a spark when his skin met yours.

For a second, you pretended that you weren’t pretending. You pretended that you were holding hands because you were two kids in love, not because you had to survive. You pretended you were never in The Games, that you never killed so ruthlessly just to live without truly living. You pretended that you weren’t you, and Finnick wasn’t Finnick, and you were holding hands just because, not because you were about to go on TV and lie.

But that second ended far too quickly as you pulled your hand out of his grasp, nodding. “Okay,” you took a deep breath, repeating his words to yourself, “we’re gonna be okay.”

“Of course, we are. Now tell me again how we met.”

When the time came for the actual interview, you never let Finnick’s hand go.

The experience became more familiar to you as you went on. It was the same as any other show you’d put on for the Capitol. When you were younger, you dreamed of being a storyteller.

Now, you told stories of a life of yours that’d never existed.

Finnick and you were thrusted into the public eye, reciting the same stories day after day. It almost felt like it was actually real, and sometimes, you wished it was.

He’d look at you with a look of love in his eyes in front of all of the cameras, touching you tenderly. Oh, he was a wonderful liar. He even made you believe it for a second, too. But you knew that no such thing would ever happen.

Finnick Odair would never fall for a girl like you. Even if you were slowly falling for him.

During nights alone, you’d marvel at the turn of events. Finnick was once a man that you hated, but now look at you. You didn’t even know if you were faking it anymore. But it is fake, you’d remind yourself. He doesn’t love you, and you won’t love him.

You weren’t gonna let yourself love him. Truth be told, you were never gonna let yourself love anybody in the first place. Loving someone only made a new liability, a new weakness for the Capitol to exploit, but you could not love Finnick.

You’d been through a lot; your heart had taken many blows and survived, but you knew loving Finnick would only one day break it into a million little pieces. Still, it’s not like he made it easy.

You were lying in your bed- your shared bed with Finnick. Since announcing that you were dating, you moved in with him. You both decided it’d be easier to hide it all that way, easier for the public to believe, too. Sharing a bed was his idea—“just in case,” he’d said.

You wanted to object, but what would you even tell him? That you were afraid of falling in love with him? You would never even put the mere idea into his head. So you went along with it.

It was funny, though: you never went to bed alone, but that’s still how it felt. Being next to him, under the covers… it didn’t make you as warm as you hoped it would.

He didn’t live with anyone else. From what you gathered, Mags, your shared mentor, was his only family. His parents died of sickness early on; Mags took him in and kept him alive, all the way up until he was sent to The Games. Finnick didn’t get sappy with you often, but you knew that he couldn’t lose her.

What he was doing for Snow, he was doing for Mags. You thought Mags was the only person he cared about, but you learned that this wasn’t true. There was one other person who he was close to, who he’d do anything to keep safe. That person was Annie Cresta.

You met her once. She was beautiful and sweet, so you understood immediately why Finnick was in love with her. He never talked to you about her, but you could tell just from how he looked at her that she was the light of his life, even if she herself wasn’t aware of that.

Annie was good, the perfect girl for Finnick. She didn’t come with all the baggage you had, she wasn’t as rude, and she always knew what to say. You would’ve wanted them together, too, if it weren’t for the fact that Finnick was becoming your Annie. He was becoming your person, and so it killed you to know that not only was he in love with another girl, but he was also unhappy.

He’d never be happy with you. While you wished you could spare him the torment and just let him be with her, you had people you cared about, too, and he was now also on that list. So your job was to keep you all alive, not happy.

The door to your bedroom opened, interrupting your train of thought. You faced away from the entrance, but you knew it was Finnick. He had perfected soundless footsteps, even though you weren’t in an arena anymore. But you supposed you were still fighting for your lives, anyway.

He climbed into bed, letting out a big exhale when his back hit the mattress. You didn’t greet him, nor did he greet you, even though he knew you were awake. You’d gone through this whole song and dance already. You had to pretend in front of the cameras; you weren’t gonna do that in here, too.

The two of you were silent. This wasn’t a silence like before when you stood together in the Capitol after those horrible nights. This was a silence that was suffocating.

Things were never the same after you decided to go through with this charade. Maybe you were almost friends before, but now you were allies at most, just there to help the other survive. Oh, you wished you could be friends, but life was never so kind.

As if he could hear you begging for companionship, he whispered, “Y/N?”

Your breath hitched. “Yes?”

There was a beat of silence before his response. You wondered what his face looked like, but you wouldn’t dare turn around. “Can we- can we just be together tonight?”

Out of all the things he could’ve said, that didn’t even make your list. You sharply inhaled. Finnick didn’t sound like Finnick at all. He sounded small, and vulnerable, and scared, all states that he’d never let you see him in. But he was.

“What do you mean?” You didn’t turn around. “We are together.”

So unlike Finnick, he stammered, “No, I mean- can I- I want to hold you.”

If this were the dance you compared it to in your head, then you’d be stumbling over your own feet. He’d never asked about anything like that before. In fact, Finnick never even seemed to like you or this predicament much. Sure, you interested him, and maybe you were friends, but you knew that if he could’ve pick anyone else to dance this dance with, he would’ve.

You wondered what brought him to this point. Maybe it had something to do with Annie, but at that moment, you couldn’t bother thinking about it. He’d never know it, but you could never say no to him.

So you turned around and let him wrap his arm around you. But little did he know, you obliged not just to comfort him, but also yourself.

You’d fall asleep in Finnick’s arms every night after that. 

You’d always been so independent, so alone, that you forgot what it felt like to lean on someone, even if it was just for a little while in the dead of night. But when Finnick held you, sleep came easier and nightmares came less.

He had no idea that he became your knight in shining armour; he never meant to, but he did. Soon after you started “dating,” Snow left you alone. You still attended Capitol parties, still mentored kids every year, but you no longer found yourself in bed with members of Snow’s cabinet, and neither did Finnick.

It was easier once it stopped, but you still had to grapple with the pain of what had already happened to you; all of this didn’t even take into account The Games. Sure, you were done, but you still had to come back once a year and prepare a kid to kill or be killed. Nothing dredged up old memories like that did.

Doing it with him was what got you through it. When you lost a kid, Finnick was there to hold you and reassure you and himself that it wasn’t your fault, that you couldn’t have done much more to stop it. At times like those especially, you had to reel yourself in and remind yourself that, yes, he cared for you, but he wasn’t in love with you.

There were times that every bone in your body told you the exact opposite, that Finnick’s actions told you the exact opposite. Sometimes, he’d kiss you for the cameras and made you fall for it, too.

God, you were a team, such a great team. Would it be so horrible of you to assume you could be more?

You’d later realize that, yes, it was.

Because at the reaping for the 70th Hunger Games, Annie Cresta’s name was called and your little fantasy of a relationship with Finnick was shattered to pieces.

His usually calm demeanour was broken as he ran toward her as soon as you both got on the train, engulfing her in a hug and soothing her while she sobbed. You just watched from the sidelines, a frown on your face. You wished you were frowning because your dear friend Annie was just chosen to be in a fight to the death, but you were frowning because Finnick had never hugged you like that.

There were no cameras here; this wasn’t for show. He never looked at you like that when there weren’t any cameras around.

You felt like you were intruding on a private moment, even though you were just standing there, even though you were supposed to be his girlfriend, not Annie. A girlfriend would’ve probably cleared her throat, interrupted the interaction, but you couldn’t find the courage to do that.

Instead, you waited for the moment to end and walked over to her yourself when Finnick stepped away, giving her a tight hug as if she hadn’t just brought you to the brink of tears. But that didn’t matter. Annie could possibly die, so your little feelings for Finnick were pretty insignificant at the moment.

You tossed those very feelings to the side, directing all your attention to preparing your tribute. Finnick was trying to explain everything, but he was too worried, so you took over for him, pushing forth all your efforts while he focused on the boy that’d been reaped from your district.

You always tried your best with the tributes, always, but this wasn’t just any tribute. This was Annie Cresta, your friend and the love of Finnick’s life. You needed her to make it out of this alive—Finnick wouldn’t survive without her.

You gave her every piece of advice you could think of during that trip, digging through your memory for things you might’ve even forgotten. You wished you could help the boy in the same way, but there could only be one victor in these Games, and it had to be her.

Remember that these are games, Annie. Don’t worry about the killing once you’re in the arena; you need to treat it like a game, like the other tributes are just pieces that need to be knocked off the board, you told her. You hated every word that came out of your mouth, but she needed to hear it. She needed to overcome the shock now so she didn’t get choked up during the actual Games like you did.

When the time finally came for you to send the tributes off into the arena, you hugged yourself, taking deep breaths to try and calm down. You imagined that it was Finnick’s arms that were around you, but you weren’t gonna ask him to comfort you. He was the one that needed comforting, but you knew he wouldn’t accept it, so you didn’t offer.

Instead, you worked your ass off to get Annie sponsors, to get people to like her as if they didn’t already. You didn’t sleep for days, and neither did Finnick until he accidentally fell asleep for a few hours one day.

You both watched as she took the tips you’d given her, using them in her own way. She was small, but she was smart and she picked up on how to play the game quickly.

Only when the last tribute was dead did a sigh of relief finally leave you. Your shoulders slumped as you sat in front of the TV. Finnick’s muttering fell upon deaf ears as static filled your brain. She made it, you thought. She’s okay.

But that didn’t make life any more okay.

After all, nobody ever really won The Games.

“Annie- Annie, it’s alright-” 

“No, it’s not!” You heard something break, like it had thrown it to the ground. When you walked further into your house, your guess was proven right. Finnick and Annie stood in your living room, the former worried and the latter frantic, pieces of a broken vase all over the ground.

“Nothing is okay, Finn! Nothing! Do you hear me- nothing is okay!” The redhead was pacing around with your so called boyfriend trying to stop and calm her down. They were both so panicked that neither of them noticed you, and you didn’t announce your presence, either.

You only stood from the side, just like on that Capitol train. The Annie that went into that arena was innocent. She was eighteen, but she was still more of a child than either of you ever got the chance to be. Now that she won, she didn’t look so innocent anymore.

She wore a look that was so familiar to you. She was alive, but Annie had never looked more like a ghost of herself.

“Annie, please-” Finnick’s voice cracked mid-sentence. He kept trying to get close to her, but she moved away every time. The tears in his eyes made yours watery, too. You had never seen him look so broken, not even as you stood in the Capitol together those cold nights after being used.

If you weren’t sure of how much Finnick loved Annie, you were now.

“No, no, nothing is okay!” She screamed, tears streaming down her face. She suddenly stopped, letting out a sob before collapsing onto the ground. Finnick ran to her right away, pulling her close and rocking her as she repeated the same thing over and over.

You hadn’t even noticed you were crying until you felt the tear falling onto your cheek, wiping at it immediately and turning around to walk away as quietly as you possibly could. You weren’t gonna just stand by and do nothing while Annie fell apart and Finnick cut himself trying to put the pieces back together. You couldn’t.

You found yourself in the kitchen, putting a kettle on the stove to distract yourself. Your eyes zeroed in on it as you tried to block out the sound of Annie’s crying, trying not to cry yourself. At one point, you succeeded, because you couldn’t hear anything anymore.

You don’t know how long you stood there, but you were eventually broken out of your trance by a hand reaching out in front of you to turn off the stove, moving the kettle. It was only now that you realized how loudly it was whistling.

You turned to see the hand belonged to Finnick who now poured the hot water into your expensive tea cups. They were a gift given to you by a patron of the Capitol, an old man with kids and a wife. He was somewhat of a regular of yours, and so he gave you that tea set to try and make himself feel better for what he was doing, along with many other gifts.

You never told Finnick any of this. You wondered if he would so readily pull them out if he knew where they came from.

He wordlessly put the tea bags into the cups, sliding one over on the island to where you stood. Then he brought the cup to his lips, taking a sip of the scalding liquid like it was nothing. You ignored your disbelief and the rational part of your brain, picking the cup to do the same thing.

When the tea met your tongue, it burned, even as it went down your throat, but you still went back in for a second sip, anyway. This pain was able to distract you from all the thoughts bouncing around in your head, and so that made it feel like it was worth it. You wondered if this was Finnick’s logic, too.

You didn’t say anything for a long while, didn’t ask about Annie or where she went. You knew he must’ve known that you heard what happened, but he didn’t mention it, either. You assumed that she fell asleep.

You wished you could fall asleep so easily, too.

Your song kept playing as you both danced around the same topics, standing together silently as your world crumbled. You danced, and danced, and danced, until your tea cups were empty, but the song was still playing.

Finnick’s voice cut through the silence of your music effortlessly, even though he was still so quiet.

“Sometimes, I think she would’ve been better off if she died.” You slowly brought your head up to meet his eyes, but they were aimed at the cup in his hand. He looked nothing like the Prince of Panem, the charming man who always had something witty to say. No, he looked beaten down, just as lifeless as Annie. Maybe you looked as lifeless as you felt, too; maybe you were all so unaware of how broken you seemed.

You didn’t know what to say to his confession. So you didn’t say anything at all.

You’d never know where that conversation would’ve went, because in seconds, Finnick collected your cups, put them in the sink, and then he left you standing there.

His words from before echoed through your head. We will never be free, Y/N.

And maybe he was right.

Annie was back home, but she never really came back from that arena—none of you did. Hell, you were thrusted into a life you never wanted, a victor’s life, as soon as you were out. You thanked God that Annie wasn’t gonna have to go through what you did; the way she was spinning out made her undesirable. At least a good thing came out of her losing it.

Oh, you were starting to find a silver-lining with everything. You had to—otherwise, you’d lose it, just like Annie. You had to find some sort of good in this situation because, otherwise, what was the point?

Time supposedly healed all wounds, but you felt like you were still bleeding. You just learned to conceal it better than others.

Before The Games, you had friends. Now you really only talked to Finnick, and you two didn’t talk much, either. Every now and then, you’d see Annie and Mags, but they weren’t your people. And your family… well, how close could you be with them after what happened? You weren’t the same girl your mother raised.

She could barely even look at you anymore.

But you couldn’t think about any of this. If you did, you’d fall apart, and you couldn’t do that. You had a role to play, an image to protect—for your safety, for your family’s safety, for his safety.

You couldn’t afford to break down like that in your living room and throw things. You wanted to, so badly, but you didn’t have that luxury.

So your song kept playing, and you danced along with it.

Finnick’s walls went back up, too. His charisma was like a light bulb that briefly flickered, but it was back now. He was dancing, too. But, without even realizing it, you both held each other tighter at night, as if you were trying not to lose the other to the tornado that was your life.

However, when you woke up, you both pretended the tornado didn’t even exist.

Annie wasn’t one for pretending. Oh, she got wrapped up into the tornado the second she was declared a victor and there was no saving her anymore. Yes, she would’ve been better off dead, maybe you all would’ve been, but if you thought about this for too long, if you let the song stop, then you’d get caught in the cyclone, too.

You pretended for a year, attending Capitol galas with a smile on your face, getting interviewed right next to Finnick with his hand in yours, acting like you were the picture perfect couple. He spoke about you like he knew you like the back of his hand, but truth be told, he didn’t know you at all; he barely ever tried to. You didn’t blame him, though; it was hard to try to talk to someone when the music was so loud.

Then came the 71st Hunger Games, and you were mentors again. Meeting the tributes, it was almost like the music stopped- almost. The girl was quiet but angry, and she reminded you so much of yourself. The boy kept cracking jokes that she didn’t laugh at, jokes that were probably inappropriate for a time like this, but you knew he wasn’t doing it to be an ass. This was his way of coping.

He reminded you of Finnick.

Looking at these kids was like looking into a mirror. On the last day of training, he finally got a reaction out of her, made her smile with a faint blush on her cheeks. Oh, these kids should’ve been laughing together in the diner back home, not on their way to die.

They were too young and too innocent. It makes you wonder if things would’ve been different if you and Finnick had met before The Games. Would that have made soothed the heartbreak?

You didn’t know. But when you saw that boy crying as he held her in that arena, blood pouring onto him from her stab-wound, you knew that heartbreak was what he felt.

Too young. They were too young.

The boy died too. He didn’t even put up a fight.

These kids were just kids, and they died young.

Just like you and Finnick did.

You sat in your room at the Capitol, swirling your scotch around in your glass. It was a crystal glass so beautiful you knew it could’ve only been crafted by hand, but you didn’t want to admire it; you wanted to throw it at the wall.

Their names were Delta and Aalto. Aalto was the more talkative one; he said he dreamed of opening his own bakery one day, right in the middle of the district with food that everyone could afford and enjoy.

He’d never get to do that now.

And Delta- she didn’t know what she wanted out of life yet. She never got the chance to figure it out.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.

The door to the room opened, making you look up from the liquor in your hand to see Finnick walking into the room. He looked defeated. Of course, he was better at hiding it than you were, but you knew how to read him better now, after all these years.

The bed dipped as he sat down next to you. You held your glass out, almost like a peace offering, and he took it without much thought, downing it in one go.

You sat there together the same way you had many times before, not saying a word. But this time felt different. It felt like there was something you were supposed to say. So you turned to look at Finnick, trying to see if he felt the same weight, only to see that he was already looking at you.

You could tell just by his eyes that he felt it, too. He opened his mouth, then closed it like he’d lost his train of thought. When you met him, you never thought you’d see the day when Finnick was speechless.

Look at how wrong you were.

You opened your mouth after a few seconds, wanting to articulate your feelings in some way, but Finnick’s lips slammed against yours before you get anything out. Without thinking, you kissed back; it felt like second-nature to you.

This wasn’t the first time you’d kissed, but he had never kissed you like this, so passionately, not a camera in sight. He was kissing you like you were air and he’d been holding his breath for so long, like you were the treasure he’d been searching for and he didn’t want to let go.

It felt like nothing you’d ever experienced.

When you eventually pulled away for air and opened your eyes, you were brought back to the real world. There was something you were supposed to say. But you quickly disregarded it, pulling him back in for another kiss before he could notice the way you were looking at him.

Yes, there was something you were supposed to say. But you couldn’t put it into words.

So you hoped that this kiss said everything that you couldn’t.

You were both grieving, and you were both there. And you knew that Finnick didn’t like you like that, so you weren’t gonna get your hopes up. This meant nothing, even if it felt like everything for you when it was happening.

He was the only person you’d ever done anything like this with before. You did things with those people Snow set you up with, but that didn’t count. You were doing this because you wanted to. You didn’t know if this was his first time or not, but you weren’t gonna ask. You did everything but talk for the rest of the night.

When you woke up, it was still dark out and Finnick was still asleep. You stared at him for a few seconds, his fluffy blond hair that you messed up, his swollen lips. He looked so peaceful like this; you couldn’t bear to wake him up and ruin that, bring him back to this nightmare.

So you got up as quietly as you could, wrapping yourself in a robe and closing the door to the bedroom, walking into the living room. The rooms the Capitol provided the victors were beautiful, but never beautiful enough to make you forget about the ugly reason that you were here.

You sat on the couch, exhaling and leaning back. You were gonna sit there in silence, but your song kept playing, and the record was skipping, and you were starting to get a headache, so you turned on the TV.

Without having to change the channel at all, you were immediately met with the news, Caesar Flickerman’s face on the flat screen. It wasn’t long before you realized why he was so excited: the Hunger Games were over. Someone won.

Caesar’s attitude made your mood go sour. He was behaving like twenty-three children weren’t just killed. It didn’t matter if they died of starvation, dehydration, an animal, or actually another tribute—it was all murder, and the Capitol was the perpetrator. It disgusted you that there were people who found enjoyment in watching these Games, Caesar Flickerman included. They’d pretend to be sympathetic, but at the end of the day, you were all just circus animals to them.

The victor’s face came onto the TV, and you immediately recognized her from the rankings. Johanna Mason. Caesar kept talking, explaining how Johanna had managed to cause so many people to be enamoured of her, and you suddenly felt sick.

Snow was gonna jump at this opportunity. He was gonna use her, too.

You turned off the TV, going back to your room and getting back into bed like you’d never left. Your song came back on, and you went back to preferring to listen to it instead of your own thoughts. You weren’t gonna think about Johanna much longer; there wasn’t any point.

There was nothing you could do.

The next time you woke up and it was actually morning, you were surprised to see that Finnick was still there. While you were sleeping, he managed to snake his arms around you. 

You didn’t get up, even though there were Capitol duties to attend to.

You stayed in bed and pretended that you were a normal couple, that maybe Finnick actually felt something for you, that you weren’t in the Capitol right now, that the world wasn’t so fucked up, that you weren’t so fucked up. But you didn’t pretend for long, eventually getting up and facing the world that you didn’t want to be apart of but had been sucked into.

He didn’t tell you this, but he was pretending, too.

You both went to the gatherings you had to go to, talked to the people you had to talk to, kept smiles on your faces, and shook Snow’s hand, even though it made you want to puke. You endured it all—you both did. The Prince and Princess of Panem…

You realized it was true what they said, heavy is the head that wears the crown. This figurative crown was weighing you down; you wondered if it’d be so coveted if people got the chance to feel how you felt.

Then you went back home, even if it didn’t really feel like a home to you. It was still all you had. But Finnick kept surprising you.

Your dance suddenly changed. The song was still playing, but the dance was different, almost like that night you’d spent together had actually meant something.

You started having dinner together every night. Before, you often forgot to eat, but now how could you? You were beginning to look forward to your daily dinners; there wasn’t much more to look forward to in the life you led.

He made it hard for you not to fall even more in love with him.

You two still didn’t talk during dinner, but it almost did feel normal, like you were a family- like you could be a family.

And then the dance changed again, and that dream felt even more real.

You pulled your chair out at your dinner table, sitting down across from Finnick. You were both dressed “down” in more comfortable clothes, but you knew there was some people in the district that still couldn’t afford them. That bothered you, but when you had dinner, most of your worries were pushed to the back of your mind.

When you two had dinner, you just enjoyed the dance.

You were a few minutes into dinner when you noticed that Finnick wasn’t eating but he was staring at you. He hadn’t stared at you like that since when you first met, so curiously, like you were a secret he wanted to be let in on.

You couldn’t ignore his stare, even if you tried. However, you tried to act nonchalant. “Is there something you want to say?” You quizzed, twirling another bite of pasta like you were unaffected by his gaze.

Finnick responded in the same beat, so much like the Finnick that was charismatic and lively, not the quiet one you normally lived with. “Something I want to ask you, actually.”

“Oh,” you said, immediately kicking yourself at how stupid you sounded. “Well, ask away.” He didn’t need to be told twice.

“What’s your favourite colour?” 

You were caught off guard by his question, blinking like you were trying to figure out if you just imagined him saying him that or if he really did. He blinked back at you but never faltered.

“What?”

He repeated himself, slower this time. “What is your favourite colour?” You blinked again when you realized he was being totally serious. “You know, colours, like a rainbow-”

“I know what colours are, Finnick.”

“Ohhhh.” His eyes got big as if he thought you actually didn’t know what a rainbow was. “Sorry, you were just looking at me like I had said the most absurd thing you’ve ever heard. So what’s your favourite colour?”

You couldn’t stop the corners of your lips going up as his grin just got wider. God, you hadn’t seen him smile like that in so long. It actually looked real.

You thought about it for a second, looking right into his eyes when you came up with an answer. “It’s blue, not really dark or light either. Sort of green- it’s close to grey, too.”

He looked at you for a few seconds before blurting, “Y/N, that sounds like the least vibrant shade of blue I’ve ever heard of.”

You laughed. “It’s vibrant to me!” He laughed, too, shaking his head like you were crazy. That shade of blue that you described was more vibrant than any other blue you’d ever seen. You could never tired of looking at it whenever you looked into Finnick’s eyes.

When the laughter died down, you asked him the same question. “Okay, now what’s your favourite colour?”

He shrugged. “Don’t have one.”

You scoffed, “Oh, come. on. You have to have a favourite colour; you can’t be that boring.”

“That boring? I’m not boring at all,” he argued, a look of faux offence on his face.

You snorted. “I beg to differ.”

“I can make you beg a lot more if you don’t take that back.” Your eyes immediately went wide and, against your will, a faint redness spread on your cheeks.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he said, crossing his arms. He looked pleased at the reaction he got out of you. “Take it back.”

You scoffed again, but you weren’t sure if it was because of your stubbornness or because you wanted to see how far you could push him. “I’m not taking anything back.”

He just stared at you for a few seconds before flashing that famous smirk of his, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “Really?”

You crossed your arms, too, nodding. “Mhm.”

He chuckled. “We’ll see if you still feel that way in the morning.”

And then he spent the rest of the night showing you just how boring he wasn’t.

The day after, you didn’t wake up dejected but instead with a smile on your face. You didn’t get out of bed at all, staying in Finnick’s arms. You felt giddy, like a school girl. There were no thoughts of his lack of feelings for you, Annie, or The Games. You just laid there and enjoyed the moment.

It didn’t even feel like you were pretending.

When Finnick woke up, you did it all over again. You ended up staying in bed all day together, cancelling your plans.

And when the time came to get out of bed, to go back to the real world, the music didn’t go back to normal. It was more upbeat now. You kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the beat to drop, but it didn’t.

Finnick didn’t pretend like you two sleeping together never happened. In fact, you two kept doing it almost every day. You actually had conversations during dinner. You learned basic things about him that you hadn’t known in all of the time you were living together.

He made you laugh often. You stopped crying so much.

Is this what happiness feels like? you wondered. If it was, you never wanted anything different. Whatever Finnick felt for you, it didn’t matter. As long as he kept making you happy, it didn’t matter.

You were so in love with him that it stopped mattering if he reciprocated your feelings. You didn’t want anything to ruin this, what you had. Your relationship was the most special thing you’d ever had, even if you didn’t know what to call it, so you were gonna do your damn best to hold onto it.

The things he’d say in front of the cameras felt real, then the things he did when you were alone made you believe it even more. Whatever this was between you, it felt real.

So real.

You were stirring something on the stove when two arms snaked around your waist, tickling you, making a squeal fly from your lips. “Finnick!” You screeched, trying to suppress your giggles as you turned around. The culprit (who was shirtless) didn’t look guilty at all, a shit-eating grin on his face. You shoved his shoulder. “I am trying to cook us breakfast.”

He snorted. “Yeah, trying and failing.” You shoved him again, causing him to laugh. “I’m sorry, you can’t cook!”

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes. “I’ll have you know, I can cook very well, actually.”

He wrapped his arms around you again. “You know, you’re cute when you pout.”

“I’m not pouting!” You exclaimed, but a blush still arose on your cheeks that Finnick noticed right away. It was almost like he was always watching for those types of things, always trying to say or do something to get you red.

“You’re even cuter when you blush.” 

Your blush worsened, but you weren’t gonna give him the satisfaction of your defeat. “I’m not blushing. We’re in a kitchen, and it’s hot.”

He pulled you closer to him, grin widening. “Don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart, about your blushing or your cooking.” He glanced behind you. “Oh, look, burnt food.”

Your eyes went wide, immediately turning around. You groaned when you saw the brown eggs and the trail of smoke coming from them. “It’s all your fault, Finn, you distracted me.”

He gave your head a kiss, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “Sure, darling, whatever you say.” Luckily, you were turned away from him so he couldn’t see how your cheeks reddened. You still weren’t used to the pet names, even though Finnick seemed to adore them. “Let’s leave the cooking to me from now on.”

You lightly scoffed, “Whatever.” He kissed your cheek before you started walking away, planning to sit on the couch while you waited for him to cook the food. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was probably smug.

“Who messes up eggs?” he muttered under his breath once you were a few feet away.

“I heard that, Finnick!” you shouted, but he only let out a loud laugh.

You shook your head at him, plopping down onto the couch in the adjoining living room and turning the TV on, but it was really just background noise. You found it much more enticing to watch Finnick cook. The way he moved so swiftly looked effortless; he knew what he was doing, that was sure. And it didn’t help that he was shirtless.

You discreetly stared at him for a while—or, you thought you were being discreet. Without looking up from what he was doing, he teased, “You know that I can feel you ogling at me, right?”

You went red as a tomato. “Shut up, Finnick!” you shrieked, turning back to the TV as if you even knew what was playing. His laugh boomed and you turned up the volume to tune it out, only causing him to laugh even louder.

Even though you were thoroughly embarrassed that he’d caught you staring at him, a smile still found its way onto your face. Around Finnick, it was hard not find a reason to smile.

You’d be content if you didn’t do anything for the rest of your life but wake up to him every day.

You spent many more mornings like that together, and lunches, and dinners, and everything in between. You exchanged jokes and playful banter constantly. Finnick really did make your cheeks hurt.

But he knew when to be serious.

There were still nights when you’d wake up from nightmares, and he’d comfort you back to sleep every time. When you caught him in a nightmare, you’d try your best to repay the favour, even though that didn’t happen often. He rarely wanted you to see him like that, so he hid his nightmares, but you did everything you could to keep him happy while he was awake to make up for it.

When you went to the Capitol, all of the darkness crept back in, squeezing in through the cracks of the walls that you’d built—for both of you. But you kept each other grounded. You weren’t alone.

Once, he had to talk you back from the edge as you had a panic attack in the bathroom. He locked the door and stayed there with you until you calmed down. You told him that you saw someone you hadn’t seen up close in a while, an old patron, and that just opened the floodgates. You saw his hands ball up into fists; he tried to hide the anger on his face, but you saw it and you understood it. 

He was angry at the Capitol, and so were you. He’d been through the same things you had, and that made it so much easier to cope, to have someone that understood. He understood for you and you understood for him, and so when things were bad, they at least became more okay. As long as you were there for each other, things were okay.

Meeting Johanna Mason at a later event nearly brought you right back to the brink. Her family was dead, she’d told you. And you wished you hadn’t understood so fast. You wished that none of you ever had to understand these things, that you could’ve stayed kids for longer before childhood was ripped away from you.

It’s not fair, you cried to Finnick. He killed her family. She said no, and he killed her family.

He let you cry on his shoulder, rubbing his hand up and down your back as he whispered, I know. It’s not fair, I know. But it was the world you lived in, and, unfortunately, neither of you had the power to do anything about it, even though you were the so called Prince and Princess of Panem.

So you did what you could. You were there for Johanna like how you were there for Finnick when you still didn’t know him. Both of you were there for her, teaching her the moves to your dance so she could dance with you while you were all at the Capitol together.

She was brutally honest, maybe even rude to the average onlooker, but it was what The Games did to her. Finnick and you understood that, and that led to you both forming a friendship with her. Coping with other people, people who understood, was the best painkiller that not even money could provide.

The Games were the hardest, but you went through that together, too. You trained those tributes with everything you had. You tried your best, but sometimes, not even that was enough to keep them alive. Finnick and you would grieve together. At times, he was more rational than you, reminding you that it wasn’t your fault, that these were games made to kill.

Whatever you went through, you went through it together. The good days, the bad days, the laughs, the tears—you were together every step of the way.

Things went like this for years. You really were a team, and nothing could convince you otherwise this time. You loved him more and more each day, but you never told him that; you didn’t need to, and you didn’t need him to love you, either. Being there, being together was good enough.

Your song never got old. You were so in sync as you danced. Oh, you never would’ve thought that Finnick Odair of all people would not only make your life bearable, but also joyful.

You were fake boyfriend and girlfriend, and yeah those lines started to blur, but you also became best friends over time. 

Finnick and you lied together in bed, the TV going on in the background. Your head was on his chest as he pet your hair. It was your seventh time doing this mentor thing, but it never seemed to get easier.

Your tributes were promising, but they still died early on, even though you both got them as many sponsors as you could. Mentors were usually down in the lobby, talking to sponsors and watching The Games with everyone else, but after your tributes died, there was no point.

So you went upstairs, and you both just lied there. It was one of those times where neither of you had to say anything. You were together, alive together, and that was enough.

Listening to Finnick’s heartbeat could calm you down in any situation. You must’ve been doing something to help him, too, because his heartbeat was steady. You stayed like that for a bit until he moved a bit, murmuring under his breath, “What?”

He sat up, making you sit up, too, while he grabbed the remote, turning the volume up. You glanced at it and the scene immediately caught your attention. You heard the last bits of what the announcer was saying, that a rule about two victors was being annulled. Your brows furrowed; you must not have seen the part where any such thing was declared.

You recognized the tributes who you quickly realized were the last people left standing. They were the kids from district 12, the Girl on Fire and the boy in love with her.

You scoffed. “Of course, they want the star-crossed lovers to battle to the death.” You were about to turn away, refusing to indulge in the Capitol’s bullshit, but Finnick grabbed onto your arm.

“Wait.”

You stopped, turning back. The girl, Katniss, had a bow and arrow in her hands. Peeta was a few steps away from her. They were both staring at each other, Katniss looking like she didn’t know what do, but Peeta looked like he already accepted that he was going to die.

You didn’t want to watch this, watch two people fall apart on television, but for some reason, this had captured Finnick’s attention.

One of us should go home, he said. One of us has to die; they have to have their victor. Katniss was already shaking her head.

No. She dropped her arrow to the ground, walking forward. They don’t.

You tilted your head, but you understood what was happening when she pulled a handful of berries from her pocket. “Holy shit.”

Peeta grabbed her hand, rejecting the idea immediately, but she whispered, Trust me. He must’ve really been in love with her, because he did. She poured some berries into the palm of his hand, making you lean closer.

“You don’t think they’re gonna…” you trailed off, puzzled. There were people that’d killed themselves in past games, but this had never happened. There was always a victor.

Peeta hesitated, but looked sure when he looked back into Katniss’ eyes. Together? he mumbled.

She repeated his words. Together. She looked up for a second, and then you suddenly recognized the look on her face. This was a bluff.

They counted down from three, and just as they were gonna bring the berries to their mouths, the announcer frantically cut in, Stop- stop! He cleared his throat. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the winners… of the 74th Annual Hunger Games.

Relief flooded into Katniss’ eyes as she embraced Peeta in a hug. Shock flowed through you, and Finnick’s expression was no different.

Once you had processed the information, you couldn’t help the grin that grew on your face, disbelief and pride filling you at the same time. “They just screwed the Capitol.”

You turned to see him smirking. “Hell yeah, they did.”

And this made your Hunger Games experience just a little bit better.

Neither of you were surprised that Seneca Crane was found dead days later. He made a grave mistake, letting two victors win. Snow wouldn’t have that, and you could guess why.

What Katniss and Peeta did was causing chatter, sparking hope. People in district 4 were more hush-hush about it, but outlying districts, like 11, had gone into revolts. The Capitol must’ve been stressed, and knowing that brought you some sick form of comfort.

Katniss and Peeta were spinning their actions, making them out to be this act of love, like they couldn’t bear to live without each other, but you and Finnick saw right through it. After all, if there was anyone who could spot a fake relationship, it was you two.

However, the two love-birds flew from your mind when you got home. You were brought back to your little world, living life alongside Finnick. The urge grew to ask him what you were, if you were still in a fake relationship just like Katniss and Peeta or if this was real, as real as you felt it was, but you didn’t wanna mess up the one good thing you had going.

The truth was, you don’t know how long you would’ve made it without him.

Finnick was your lifeline, and he had no idea.

The next time you were at the Capitol, you were in the Presidential Palace for the so called biggest party of the year. It was always hosted right before the Hunger Games, so being there gave you many things to be anxious about.

But, like always, you concealed it, smiling and shaking hands with the people you came across, even as you were disgusted. Some of these people, the very people who paid for your body at sixteen, were there with their families. You wondered how they could have children and still do what they did.

You were a child, too.

Normally, Finnick would be there to calm you down, but he snuck off somewhere without telling you.

You were wandering around, trying to find him when a head of brown hair streaked with red came into your view. “Hey, Princess.”

A sigh left your lips, both out of relief that you found someone you knew and discontent at the nickname. “Hey, Jo.” You would usually make conversation with her, but you were pretty distracted, glancing around behind her. “Have you seen Finnick anywhere? I’ve been looking for him for a while now.”

When you looked back to her, a look you couldn’t decipher flashed across her face, but it was gone in an instant. “No, can’t say I have.”

For some reason, you got a weird feeling from her. It was almost like she knew something that you didn’t.

“Hey, why don’t we go grab a bite while we wait for him?” She suggested, gesturing to the buffet. “I’m starving.”

You shook your head, dazed. “I’ll catch up with you- I’m just gonna go to the bathroom.”

She perked up. “I’ll go with you.”

You were quick to decline. “No, that’s fine; go eat. I’ll be back in a sec.” She was hesitant  for reasons you couldn’t fathom, but she eventually nodded, agreeing to meet you later.

You walked through the halls, passing the bathrooms and not even sparing them a glance. You didn’t really know why you lied about where you were going, but in that moment, it felt like instinct. You trusted Johanna, but you were catching the same weird vibe from countless other people. All you wanted was to find Finnick and have him tell you everything was alright.

You didn’t have to look long before you found him, outside along with many other partygoers. But he wasn’t alone. Standing next to him was a man you’d just recently seen on TV. You just couldn’t remember his name.

You made your way over to them. They cut themselves off as soon as they saw you, not letting you overhear a single detail of whatever they were talking about. You stifled the reappearance of that weird feeling that was starting to feel a lot like suspicion. “Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen.”

Finnick waved you off, “No, it’s fine, sweetheart.” He pulled you into his side, kissing your temple. “This is Plutarch Heavensbee.” A lightbulb went off in your head as you looked to the man.

He was Seneca Crane’s replacement.

What the hell was Finnick doing talking to him?

“It’s an honour and a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N,” he greeted, holding his hand out. There was something about him that was throwing you off, not just your revelation of who he was, but you still shook his hand.

“Pleasure’s mine, Mr. Heavensbee,” you replied, smiling your umpteenth fake smile of the night. But you had an inkling that no one in the Capitol was as genuine as they seemed.

Plutarch didn’t try to stay and make small talk like the rest of the people you encountered at the Capitol, bidding you both farewell and wishing you a good night. Something told you his departure had something to do with your arrival.

Once he was out of earshot, you turned in Finnick’s arms. “Was that the new head Gamemaker?” He nodded, but didn’t offer any explanation. You furrowed your brows. “What were you talking about?” 

Finnick shrugged nonchalantly, but for some reason, he seemed tense. “He wanted to meet the youngest victor of The Games.”

You found that hard to believe, holding back a scoff. “Well, he didn’t seem too interested in meeting me.”

A smile arose on his face as he wrapped his arms back around your waist. “That is because you, darling, are not the youngest person to ever win.”

This time, you did scoff, but the tense atmosphere dissipated. “You’re a dick.”

“You love me.” Your heart nearly stopped, but you kept your composure. You did love him, more than he’d ever know.

You shook your head, acting unaffected. “C’mon, Johanna’s waiting for us by the buffet.” You tried walking away, but your faux façade of annoyance was broken by Finnick latching onto your hand and walking forward with you, chuckling.

And then the entire matter of everyone’s weird behaviour was pushed to the back of your mind.

Returning home from the Capitol was always peaceful, like a weight being lifted off your shoulders, but this time was unlike any of those other times. When you got home, the so called peace that the Capitol so delicately crafted was ripping at the seams.

The chatter from before, from when Katniss and Peeta defied the Capitol, was louder than ever. They had just gone on their victor’s tour, right before you left for the Presidential Palace, and they had apparently sparked a reaction in just about every district they visited, yours included.

You found out that district 4 had been in a revolt since Everdeen and Mellark came and gave their speech. The people were outraged. The news talked about seafood shortages due to bad weather, but the Capitol just didn’t want to let Panem know what was going on, that people were refusing work, that Peacekeepers were murdering innocent people left and right for the smallest of incidents.

When you were all caught up with what had happened, you were furious, too. You wanted to march out onto the streets and give the Capitol the finger, but Finnick pulled you back. 

“What are you gonna do, Y/N?” he questioned, not even giving you the time to answer. “You don’t even know.”

Your voice was vicious as you responded, a tone you’d never given him. You were angry, and you both knew you weren’t thinking clearly; you just didn’t care. “I don’t know right now, but I’m gonna do something, Finnick.” You tried pulling your arm away, but he was much stronger than you.

“I’m not gonna let you go out there and get yourself killed.” You could tell by his demeanour that he was angry, but not for the same reasons that you were.

You shook your head. “You of all people should understand where I’m coming from.”

His eyes went hard. “You must not know me well if you think I’d let my girlfriend kill herself.” That shut you up.

His girlfriend.

He called you his girlfriend.

You got over the shock and, suddenly, you were even more angry than before. While you could pretend all you wanted to that you lived in candy-land, the cruel reality was still there. Finnick didn’t love you. He was only playing with your emotions.

Tears built up in your eyes: sad tears, angry tears—they were everything tears. You felt everything. “I’m your girlfriend now?”

He scoffed, “Oh, come on, Y/N. You can’t be serious right now.”

“I am so serious right now.” 

At your deadpan, he finally let go of your arm, running a hand through his hair. A part of you felt bad that he was so stressed, but you were stressed, too. He looked like he was trying to figure out what to say when he looked back up at you. His voice was no longer harsh, but small. “Y/N, please.”

You swallowed. 

“I’m just asking you to trust me.” He grabbed onto your hands. “Please just trust me.” He was begging you.

“Trust you to do what?”

“I just need you to trust me, Y/N, please.” He held your hands tighter. “Trust me.”

Oh, it didn’t matter how angry you were, if your thoughts were set in stone. Finnick would still be able to mold you like clay. Every time.

“I trust you.”

There was something different about him, but you were too distracted to try and figure it out.

There were so many things going on.

You were with Annie when it happened. Oh, that must have been some cruel joke from the universe. You were walking through the town square, on your way to Victors’ Village with pastries from the bakery in your hands. You were slowed down by the all of the people congregating together, watching the screen.

President Snow was announcing the third Quarter Quell, and they were eating it up. You weren’t gonna do that, entertain his lunacy. You’d go the Capitol and play your role, but you weren’t gonna watch these broadcasts anymore. You weren’t gonna play along.

Finnick could explain it to you later so you’d be able to prep your tributes. The Quells were always made out to be the hallmark of The Games; they were always harder. You felt for whatever kids would have to go through them.

You felt a lot more once you realized who these tributes were gonna be.

You weren’t listening to what Snow was was saying, but his words cut through any sort of mental block you had. “On this, the third Quarter Quell Games, the male and female tributes are… to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district.” 

Your stopped walking as if you’d hit a wall, the stuff in your hands falling the ground, but it was almost like you didn’t hear it. You stopped hearing anything, not Snow explaining the condition or everyone’s gasps. Your ears rang. Everything was muffled like you were underwater.

You were done. You were supposed to be done. You went through those Games, you won, and now you were supposed to be done.

He was gonna make you go through it all over again.

You were so shocked that you pinched yourself, like you were a child and this was some nightmare, and even though you didn’t wake up, even though you knew you were awake, you were still caught in a nightmare that you’d have to die to escape from.

Your senses came back to you and you spun around, pulling Annie into a tight hug the second you saw the tears streaming down her face. She muttered the same thing over and over into your shoulder.

“This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.”

She couldn’t go through this again. The Games broke her beyond repair. She couldn’t mentor because of it; she could barely ever attend any of the Capitol parties you and Finnick frequented. She would die in that arena, either mentally or physically.

You couldn’t let that happen.

Your song played on a loop in your mind, making the decision for you. You were reminded that, even though your dance may have changed, Finnick didn’t love you. He loved Annie, and he would be destroyed if she died.

You couldn’t let that happen.

You couldn’t let Mags go back into the arena, either. He needed her. These were the only people he cared about; you couldn’t let them go through this.

Then and there, you decided your fate.

You were gonna be the one to go back into the arena, and no one was gonna stop you.

When you and Annie had made it to your house, ignoring all of the looks of pity thrown your way, Finnick looked just as beaten down as you, but not surprised. You didn’t have time to analyze that.

He hugged Annie first, shooting you an apologetic look, but you didn’t understand what it was for. You knew what Annie meant to him.

You weren’t so deluded that you’d believe you came before her. Besides, she needed to be consoled more than you did. You were calm. Annie was lost right now, but you knew exactly where you were headed.

That night, once Annie left, your clothes came off, and you and Finnick had the softest sex you ever had. It was gentle, and you let yourself feel loved one last time. You let yourself be selfish and have this one thing, just one last time.

You knew that the odds of coming out of that arena were slim, so you kissed Finnick like you were gonna die the very next day. I just might, you thought. And then as you fell asleep in his arms, you pretended that everything was alright. You pretended that your dance wasn’t gonna end so soon, that you weren’t gonna sign your life away when you woke up, that Finnick really loved you, that he loved you just as much as you loved him. You pretended one last time.

The next day, you and all of the other victors walked to the Hall of Justice, escorted by a dozen Peacekeepers. There were so many male tributes. As terrible as it sounded, you were praying that it’d be one of them that was chosen, not Finnick. If he was, then you would throw away any chance you had of winning.

If he went in with you, then he’d be the one walking out.

Cassia Locke stood in the middle of the stage, in between the male and female victors. You found it funny, almost: you were victors, but now the Capitol was gonna rip that refuge away after they’d already taken everything from you.

Cassia was just another mutt in your eyes. She was district 4’s Capitol escort; she was meant to be an advisor, but she didn’t do that well, not for you or the other tributes you mentored. But you supposed you couldn’t be too surprised. Her job was to make spectacles, not survivors.

However, she almost looked human for a moment, glancing at the women sympathetically before she pulled out a folded paper from the bowl. You stood on edge; there were only three of you. Unbeknownst to you, Finnick also stood straighter in trepidation.

She cleared her throat, announcing, “The female tribute for the 75th Annual Hunger Games and third Quarter Quell is… Annie Cresta.”

Annie’s face fell, but you quickly stepped forward. “I volunteer as tribute.”

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Annie whispered, putting a hand on your shoulder, but you brushed her off and ignored her.

Cassia nodded. “Very well, then.” She moved back to the bowl. “Now for the males.”

You glanced over to see that Finnick was already looking at you, an unknown emotion written all over his face, though you realized what it was quickly. Betrayal.

You were confused why. If anything, he should’ve been relieved.

“The male tribute for the 75th Annual Hunger Games will be…” she unfolded the paper, “Finnick Odair.”

Your heart dropped. That wasn’t supposed to happen. 

The universe must’ve hated you.

Finnick’s mask was back on. Any trace of emotion on his face was erased and replaced with the cocky, charming façade that he’d perfected. He smirked as if he wasn’t just chosen for the most brutal “game” there ever was, like there was nothing to be worried about.

He was so good at pretending. Maybe even better than you.

You both walked toward the centre of the stage simultaneously, routinely. You’ve danced this dance before.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our tributes for the Hunger Games.”

Right after that, Peacekeepers came from the side, trying to grab at your arms, but you shook them off. “We know where to go,” you said. You don’t know if it was the your tone of voice or the look on your face, but they actually listened.

You were escorted into an inactive chamber, the same one you were brought to for your first Games. Memories flashed through your mind before you shook them away. You couldn’t get PTSD right before you went into this.

Finnick was stoic as he stared you, but before either of you could say anything, Mags and Annie came rushing into the room. Annie took you by surprise, immediately engulfing you tightly.

She was still crying, but manage to blubber out through her tears, “Why- why would you do that?”

You rubbed her back. “Annie-”

“Why would you do that for me? It was supposed to be me. Supposed to be me, supposed to be me.” She kept repeating herself over and over, shaking in your arms.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Finnick and Mags watching you. “It’s gonna be okay, Annie,” you told her, but you knew it was a lie. “I’m gonna be fine.” You weren’t.

As if she knew this, she only cried harder. You didn’t know what else to say, so you just kept rubbing her back, hoping that she’d calm down. Eventually, she stopped shaking, but tears kept flowing from her eyes like a waterfall. She tried to wipe them away, but they just kept coming.

She sniffled, going over to hug Finnick, then hugging you one last time before she left. “Take care of each other- please,” she asked, and you weren’t thinking of doing anything but.

You nodded, assuring her that you would do just that. Mags hugged you, saying the words she couldn’t express through her gaze. You could tell that neither of them wanted to leave, but they had to. 

Only one of you was gonna come back, and that was gonna be hard to come to terms with.

They left, and then it was just you and Finnick. The music kept playing, and playing, and playing, and you weren’t sure you could take it anymore. You didn’t want to hear this song ever again if it could be your last time listening.

If you could have it your way, you’d dance together until the end of time. But forever was never promised, not in the world you lived in.

The silence, however, felt like it lasted a forever in the moment, so you broke it. “Can you say something?” Finnick just kept staring at you in a way he had never looked at you before. The music got louder. Tears came to your eyes. “Please.”

Maybe he took pity on you, because he did say something. You just weren’t sure if it was any better than the silence. “Why would you do that?” His voice was cold.

You felt cold.

You swallowed. “Finn-”

“Why would you volunteer?” He stepped closer to you, so much venom seeping through his tone that you thought you were gonna be sick. “Annie was going to go-”

You cut him off, throwing your hands up. “You saw her, Finnick. She’s a mess.”

“She was going to be fine-”

“She can’t go through The Games again!” You shouted, losing it. Why was he berating you as if you didn’t just save the love of his life? “It would kill whatever part of her is left.”

“She would’ve been fine. You would’ve been fine-”

“God, why do you care about what happens to me? Annie’s gonna be okay—you’re gonna be able to come home to her and build the family you’ve always wanted-”

He snapped. “You’re my family!” You recoiled like he just hit you with his words. It was like you’d been doused in cold water. Finnick sighed, running a hand through his hair. There was a beat where neither of you said anything, letting his revelation soak in.

But you didn’t know what that meant.

When he spoke up again, his voice was quieter. He didn’t look like the Finnick that smirked up on that stage; he looked defeated, not triumphant. “You’re my family, Y/N. Don’t you get that?” He looked back up at you. “I could’ve protected Annie in that arena, and you would’ve been safe, here—not there with me.”

You shook your head. “There is no protecting someone in an arena- you and I know that best.” You let a tear fall, smiling sadly. “You’re gonna come home, Finnick-”

“Stop.”

“You’re gonna come home and you’re gonna live a long life with Annie-”

“Stop it.”

“You have people to take care of. I don’t.”

“Y/N, stop it.”

Another tear. “You deserve this-”

“Stop it.” Finnick grabbed onto your shoulders. You didn’t even know he got so close. “I’m not gonna let you die in there. Do you hear me? You’re not dying.”

“Only one of us is coming back, Finn. It’s gonna be you.”

You don’t know if your eyes were just really that blurry or if there were actually tears in his eyes, too. “No, you are coming home-”

“Finni-”

He grabbed you tighter. “We are both coming home.” The dam in your eyes broke, and all of the tears you were trying to hold came flooding down your cheeks.

Why was he saying these things? He knew it was impossible.

“We are both coming home, Y/N, I swear,” he promised, but these were promises he couldn’t keep. These were things he couldn’t control. Why was he lying to you- why was he lying to himself?

You wanted to say all these things, to scream, to tell him that it wasn’t true, that you were going to die. But then you remembered every other time you lied in bed together, every time you kissed and held each other. You’ve been lying to yourself all along, pretending you could have a future together when, deep down, you knew that wasn’t the case.

So you held everything in, pulling Finnick to you and hugging him with everything you had. You were gonna let him pretend, just this last time.

You were gonna dance together one last time.

You spent the entire train ride in each other’s arms, only getting up to eat and go to the bathroom before getting back in bed. You didn’t have mentors—you were the mentors. You’d been here before already, and that was surreal in and of itself.

You thought you already won. But nobody ever won, did they?

Those games killed everyone, victors included.

The press was insane, but just as you expected it. You were the Prince and Princess of Panem; they didn’t want to watch you die. Turns out, people in the Capitol did have hearts; clearly, they weren’t all too functional.

This visit, in more ways than one, was completely different from any other time you’d been in the city. Instead of the graceful show you normally put on, waving and smiling, you were much more mute. You were gonna die, anyway, so what was the point of continuing to be a puppet? 

Finnick was still his usual self, smirky and arrogant, but even his anger snuck through the cracks of his act. All of you were angry, all of the victors. You could tell just by the mere glances you’d gotten of them, by the news coverage. Nobody wanted to go into an arena and kill people, not even the Careers (who you’d admit were pretty crazy).

However, this was all still a show to the Capitol, with you as the unlucky cast. And the show had to go on.

You and Finnick were separated to be prepped by the “glam teams.” The first time around, you remember being scared, but now you were just bored.

You were sitting idly in the dressing room, waiting for your designer when a man walked in, making you raise a brow.

This was a designer, but not your designer.

“Wait, I know you.” You tilted your head as his face became more familiar to you. “You’re Cinna- you designed those outfits with the fire.”

Cinna nodded in a way that you perceived as both humble and prideful at the same time. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Princess.”

This elicited a bitter chuckle from you. “Please, call me Y/N.” You then stood up to shake his hand when your curiosity sparked. “Aren’t you Katniss’ designer?”

“Yes, but I’m also going to be designing your outfits, as well,” he replied. “The head Gamemaker requested it. You are the Princess, after all.”

The corners of your lips went up. Most people you met at the Capitol would beat around the bush, but this guy didn’t seem shy. It was refreshing. You teased, “Ah, and since I’m a princess, I get Panem’s best to dress me?” 

Cinna chuckled a bit under his breath, but didn’t confirm or deny your comment. He dived straight into his plans, explaining what he wanted to for you with a twinkle in his eye that you noticed most artists had when speaking about their work. “I want to stay true to the district 4 theme, but I want to make a statement.”

“Yeah, I had a feeling.”

He smiled. “We’re gonna show the Capitol that they can’t control you.”

And then your little smile turned into a grin.

Cinna did not disappoint. You were in a golden, long-sleeve, grid shirt with holes where the squares were supposed to be; your velvet skirt was a dark blueish-green, skin-tight; and atop your head was a golden crown, decorated with blue jewels.

Of course, it wasn’t a normal outfit, but you were gonna save the theatrics for the parade.

Finnick was around somewhere, likely causing trouble while you were walking around, looking for Johanna. However, you ended up running into someone else.

“Peeta,” you called, and he turned around. He immediately reminded you of Finnick, a mask of charm hiding him. Although Peeta had only been at this for a year, he already knew how to play the game, unlike Katniss who was rather unapproachable.

“Y/N,” he greeted. He scrambled for something to say for a few seconds. “I heard about how you volunteered for that girl. It was really brave.”

You hummed, almost sarcastically. “You don’t have to suck up to me—it’s not like I bite.”

He got red, making you stifle a laugh. “That’s, uh- that’s not what I meant-”

“It’s fine, I get it,” you waved it off. “It’s probably intimidating to be here around all of us, just a year after you won.” He didn’t say anything, just awkwardly smiled. “You know, you don’t have to be scared. You have a lot of power ‘round here; you just need to learn how to wield it.”

He gave you a confused look, so you elaborated, “There’s power in the masses, Peeta. The people here love you.” You paused. “Use that.”

A look of realization crossed his face, and so you decided that you said all you needed to say. He thanked you, but his mind looked to be elsewhere. You nodded, then walked off to find your carriage.

Sure, the Capitol could try and treat you all like pieces on a chess board, but if you got rid of the board altogether, then there would be no game to play. You spoke to Peeta to help him realize that. It didn’t matter if you were all meant to be on different sides; until you got into that arena, you were all one team, and you were gonna try your hardest to stop The Games before they began.

If that didn’t work, then you would just have to concede. One way or another, you would make sure that Finnick made it out of that arena alive. Peeta reminded you an awful lot of him, and while you would otherwise be rooting for him, you would choose Finnick if it came down to it.

You met Finnick at the chariot not long after leaving Peeta. He was shirtless, wearing a skirt similar to your top, rope around his wrists like bracelets. If you weren’t about to go into this stupid parade, you would’ve probably been making out already, but you were far too worried to think about that.

You had Cinna to thank for calming your nerves, giving you something to look forward to. Once the parade had started and you were coming through, you pressed the button of the device he had given you and then your top went up in flames, disintegrating until you were just in a black bralette, revealing the swirls of blue they painted on your arms, resembling waves. The rope around Finnick’s wrists caught fire, too, burning up until there was nothing there.

The crowd cheered, chanting your names. The faintest of smirks grew on your lips, but you really had to stifle your enjoyment when you saw Snow staring your carriage down.

What you did symbolized freeing yourself of the shackles of the Capitol, of these stupid Games. They could try, but they wouldn’t control you. 

You would’ve usually felt some sort of fear- hell, you were never so defiant just in fear of what they would do to you. But what more could they do to you? They were already going to kill you. You didn’t care anymore.

After the parade, you ran into Johanna who gave you a good laugh as she told you how she stripped in the elevator. You would’ve paid good money to see it, that was for sure. You also talked to a few other victors on your way back to your suite.

You’d been friends with many of these people for years and now the Capitol was just gonna try and pit you against each other. None of you were looking forward to that—you were friends. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t make any allies.

Alliances didn’t last forever in the arena, but they lasted long enough. Considering your status, almost everyone wanted you and your “boyfriend” as allies; they certainly didn’t want you as enemies.

The next day was spent at the training centre, a brand new one made specially for the Quarter Quell. The thought made you roll your eyes. The Capitol would spend their money on things like this and yet there were still kids out there starving. What kind of world was that? One that you were okay with leaving, so long as Finnick would remain in it.

On your way in, you passed Cashmere and Gloss throwing knives at holograms. They were good, you noted, but not better at it than you. Johanna was off practicing by herself—though you were sure that she was doing it more so to release her pent-up aggression. Wiress and Beetee, Nuts and Volts as Jo called them, were by themselves, much less violent than everyone else here and much more strategic. Finnick was tying knots, looking more bored than anything. And you… you weren’t doing anything.

You leaned back on a wall, watching the other tributes instead of joining them. You didn’t care about the rankings or making yourself look dangerous. You didn’t have anything to prove; you did that already, and you really didn’t need to “practice,” either.

You’ve danced this dance before.

However, not everyone was so aware of just how well you danced last time.

“Not practicing?” You turned your head, seeing the newest victor walking up to you, donning her famous hairstyle. The corners of your lips quirked up in amusement. 

She must have been told to make friends. You couldn’t imagine it was working out so well if she was coming to you.

“Don’t need to, Everdeen,” you replied, shrugging. “I don’t need the spotlight; got enough of that.”

She lightly snorted. “Yeah, I know what that’s like.” And you didn’t doubt that. Katniss had definitely captured the attention of Panem with her actions, and she certainly acquired the attention of the Capitol. Snow couldn’t have been her biggest fan.

In another life, you could picture you and her being friends, but you knew it wasn’t gonna happen in this one.

“You’re lucky, you know,” you said. You knew she didn’t see that way, and maybe it was a little bitter of you to say that, but it was true. At least she hadn’t been under the spotlight long enough for it to burn her like it’d burned you. 

She scoffed, “How so?” The girl had restraint, you’d give her that. She clearly wanted to say a lot more than that, but she was smart. She knew better.

You shrugged again. “You just are.” And you left it there. If she wanted all the dirty details about you, she could try her luck with one of the other victors, but you doubted she sensed the real meaning of your words. She hadn’t been dancing long enough to even hear the song yet.

A dramatic sigh then escaped your lips. “Ah, though I suppose even your luck can only run so far, Girl on Fire. So sorry about your wedding.” The sarcasm in your voice was toned down just enough that it wasn’t so evident but evident enough to make your point.

She gave you a tense smile, although you weren’t sure if any of Katniss’ smiles ever weren’t tense. “Thanks,” she responded with zero sincerity in her tone. “I’m sorry you and Finnick never had one, either. Would’ve been a real royal occasion.”

You hummed, smiling your royal smile back at her. The Kat has claws, you thought. But you didn’t really feel like standing here and trading subliminals with her all day; you’d have enough of that with everyone else, anyway.

You left it at that, going to walk away before pausing as if you’d forgotten something. “Tell Haymitch I said hi.” You gave her a once over. “He’s done a good job.” And then you walked away.

Finnick’s voice rang through your head: May the odds be ever in your favour, darling. You almost felt like recycling that line and repeating it to Katniss, but you had already messed with her enough. 

Your demeanour was in stark contrast of how you normally behaved. You may have been more agreeable or kind at home, sweet on cameras, but in this territory, you had an entirely different reputation. Sharp, cunning, unpredictable—ruthless. That’s the way it needed to be if you wanted to survive, or at least survive long enough to do what you needed to do.

So, you supposed that you had a mask, too.

You all did.

When you got back to your suite later in the evening, Finnick informed you of Katniss’ display with her bow and arrow, how she had renowned victors quaking in their boots, but people were even more scared of you, and you hadn’t even done anything at training.  

You basically had the entire pool of tributes to choose from for an alliance. You were choosing Johanna, of course, and Finnick already had his mind made up on his pick.

Making his way over to you, he tossed you something that you swiftly caught before sitting down on the armchair across from the sofa you were sitting on. You looked down, opening your hand to see a golden pendant, a medallion with a rose in the middle.

You raised a brow. This wasn’t a present. “A rose?”

“They’re a Capitol favourite.” Precisely why you hated them.

“Alright, and why are you giving it to me?”

Finnick brought his wrist up, showing you a golden bracelet made of vines while wiggling his fingers. “They’re gifts,” he told you, “from Effie Trinket and Haymitch Abernathy.”

You were familiar with both people. Effie Trinket was crazy, but that wasn’t the dominant thought on your mind. “Gifts for what?”

He answered, “They’ve brokered an alliance with us on behalf of Katniss and Peeta.” At that, you groaned, but Finnick readily cut you off. “This will be good for us, Y/N.”

“They’re brand new to this,” you countered. Sure, you liked the spark that the Girl on Fire had, and Peeta was quite the catch, but they only won a year ago. The Careers would be a better pick, even though you didn’t exactly like them, either.

“Yes, but they’re good; you’ve seen them. And the Capitol’s gonna love it, the two pairs of lovers together. C’mon, you know all this.” You did. You knew that this was one of the best avenues to take, but something in you was against it.

Maybe it was just that Peeta reminded you of the man you were in love with, and Katniss reminded you of yourself. But right now, you had to remind yourself to think with your head, not your heart. You needed to disregard your feelings and do whatever it took to win this.

To you, winning didn’t mean surviving this. Winning meant that Finnick did.

So, with a sigh, you surrendered, agreeing to this little deal. “So, these accessories are, what? Bargaining chips?”

He smirked. “No, they’re symbols. Katniss and Peeta have theirs, too.”

You chuckled, shaking your head and mocking, “So we’re in a little golden alliance, then?”

“It appears so, darling.”

After a little more conversation, Finnick and you headed off to bed, even though neither of you could really sleep. You held each other, though, and so the insomnia was bearable. He told you to stow the necklace away, that you were saving the objects for The Games. Apparently, Katniss and Peeta still needed a little persuasion for this, especially the former.

She was smart not to trust you, but she was equally as naive for the same reason. If you wanted to, you could be judgemental all day, but you didn’t have the time for it, so your mind didn’t linger on the subject.

When you were waiting to be assessed the next day with the rest of the tributes, your mind didn’t really linger on anything. You felt numb: not pleased, not sad, just numb. If you could pin-point an emotion, it had to be anger, but that feeling hadn’t left you since your first Games.

Finnick, on the other hand, looked no different, maybe even a little amused by the tension in the room, too amused for somebody who had to go back to the arena. But Finnick was always one to look a challenge into the eye and, instead of looking away, give it a wink. That was his persona while you were here, in the Capitol, so you’d let him indulge in it if that’s what made him feel better.

You’d do anything for him, even if he didn’t love you back.

He went into the room first. You didn’t know exactly what he was gonna do, but you knew that you were all basically doing the same thing. Plutarch Heavensbee may have been new, but even he knew who you all were. You’ve all shown your skills already, been here already, danced this dance already.

The song was getting old.

You were all giving your own personal fuck you to the Capitol.

When Finnick walked out, he flashed you a smirk that almost made you laugh. You stifled a smile as you walked into the room yourself, but it was quickly wiped off your face as memories played in your head like a movie.

You remembered the first time you did this, coming in and saying your name, scared out of your mind but ready to win, ready to impress the sponsors.

Now, you didn’t have to say your name. You caught their attention as soon as you walked in. You were the Princess. You needed no introduction.

It was funny, though, how that imaginary crown couldn’t save you from this.

The thought of your inevitable death was what fuelled you. You were known for your abilities with a sword, but that wasn’t what you reached for. You reached for the jug of gasoline and a lighter, immediately opening it and pouring in a circle in the middle of the room before stepping into it.

Then you looked right up at all of them and their confused faces, and threw the open lighter to the liquid in front of you, igniting a circle of fire around you.

You stared right at the head Gamemaker as you did it, expressionless. His expression told you that he got the message, or at least your hostility.

You would burn this place to the ground if you had to, even if you got burned while doing it. 

When the flames got smaller, you turned and stepped over them, walking out of the room without another glance or word to the Capitol mutts. As far as you were concerned, they weren’t worth your time—you were running out of that, anyways.

Once the assessments were over, all any of you had time to do was get ready for the show. Caesar wasn’t exactly a face you wanted to see right now. Maybe he saw his enthusiasm as a way of “calming the tributes down,” but it was really just his lack of empathy. You didn’t need him cheering and practically gossiping about your death before it happened. 

As much as the people in the Capitol liked to think of these Games as games, they weren’t. They were your lives. But you really could spend days obsessing over it, days that you didn��t have.

It was time to dance, and there was nothing you did better.

You were backstage, standing with Finnick and Johanna, waiting your turns. Cinna had made you very pretty. He was good at what he did.

You were wearing a dark blue dress with wide straps tied into blue bows at your shoulders and a sweetheart neckline. The bottom half was pretty fitted, but it was covered by a sparkly, golden, A-line, hoop petticoat made of the same material as your top from the parade, gridded with holes like before. And of course, your crown sat atop your head—Cinna insisted.

He really wanted to nail the whole Princess thing, milk it for all it was worth. And you let him, because his designs were great. Part of you wished you could’ve gotten more into fashion; now you’d never get the chance to.

You couldn’t blame Katniss for being so stand-offish. You’d be intimidated, too, if you were new to the club, watching from the sidelines. You, Finnick, and Johanna didn’t really seem all too approachable right now, either, even the ever so charming Odair. They were exchanging jokes and laughing at the interviews, mocking them, while you were rather stoic, observing the interviews watchfully.

Cashmere and Gloss went first, of course. They did theirs together since they were brother and sister. It was odd to you, how two siblings managed to get reaped together out of all the victors district 1 had, but you were paying more attention to the act they were putting on. 

Casmere was sobbing. She’s a much better killer than she is an actor, you thought, but the people in the audience clearly bought it. You’d give her credit, though; you were all trying your best to get this thing cancelled, even if that was highly unlikely.

Next came the two crazy Careers who made Gloss’ acting look world class. Then Beetee went on stage, using logic as a tactic rather than emotion. Smart, but logic wouldn’t sway President Snow’s wishes. The Capitol sent innocent kids off to die every year in a televised event to pay for something that happened years before any of them were born—logic was obviously not their strong suit.

Wiress went next, and that’s basically when you tuned out. She was pretty out of it, not really saying much. Finnick was going after her. That’s what occupied your thoughts.

“Hey, you alright?” Your were snapped out of your daze by the very man you were thinking about, as if he was reading your mind. Those blue eyes that you loved so much stared down at you, concern swimming through them.

Those ocean eyes. You could drown in them.

You cleared your throat, straightening your shoulders. “Yeah, I’m good.” He continued to stare down at you like he was completely unconvinced, but before he could say anything, they were calling his name.

He cursed under his breath then placed a soft kiss on your temple before having to walk out on stage, that famous smirk on his face. He was so good at that, at going from hard to soft so easily, cursing to kissing you.

He was good. He was real good, and he was a much better actor than any other tribute here. He was so good that he could make even you believe his performance.

You watched them from the TV backstage. “Finnick,” Caesar started. “As I recall, the last time we spoke, it was with your other half, who is here today.” The crowd cheered.

Finn nodded, smiling tensely, which you were sure he did on purpose. “That’s right.”

“You and the Princess have so graciously shared your love with us, and we have fallen in love with you both, perhaps as much as you love each other.” You and Johanna simultaneously rolled your eyes. Finnick, though, smiled to the cheering audience, mouthing thank you’s that no doubt made them swoon. “None of us know how to deal with the fact that you are both going into The Games- I certainly haven’t come to terms with it. Tell us, how are you dealing with this?”

You scoffed. If there was something the people of the Capitol liked to do, it was pretending that your tragedy was their own. They didn’t know even half of your pain, any of yours. 

Caesar practically shoved the microphone in Finnick’s face. He looked down, like he was thinking, but you knew he probably had this bit down pat already. “If I’m being honest, neither Y/N nor I have come to terms with it, either.” He now looked right to the camera. “What I do know is that I will do whatever it takes to protect the woman I love.” The crowd cooed as you looked straight at the TV, as if Finnick was staring into your eyes. “And if I… if I die in that arena, then my last thought will be of her lips… and how lucky I was to have met her and have had the opportunity to give her my heart.”

The crowd went wild and Caesar said something in response, but you couldn’t hear it. You were stuck staring into Finnick’s eyes, the eyes you fell in love with. Oh, he was so good. He could dance the dance so much better than you. Because everything he said, he almost made you believe that he meant it.

You blinked the tears in your eyes away when Johanna shook you, telling you they were about to announce your name. You put the mask back on, and it was your love for Finnick that made you do it. You were doing this for him.

An exhale left your lips as you waited for your cue. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, as our Prince exits, I have the honour of welcoming his counterpart to the stage. The winner of the 67th Hunger Games. The Princess of Panem. Y/N Y/L/N!”

The doors you stood behind opened and you walked onto the stage, a stellar smile on your face as you waved to the roaring crowd. You just had to play the role, and everything would be fine.

When the cheers died down, Caesar gave you a sympathetic look, or at least a look that he thought was sympathetic. “Now, Y/N, it is lovely to see you. You look stunning.”

“Thank you, Caesar. It’s always wonderful to see you. I just wish it was under different circumstances.” You glanced to the crowd, catching their pity. For once, that was the exact emotion you wished to inspire.

“Yes, I think I speak for us all when I say that this is not easy.” You tightly smiled, even though you really just wanted to flip him off. “We just spoke to Finnick, he has been quite expressive these past few days in the Capitol, but you, Y/N, you have not been as revealing. Please, we’d like to know what’s been on your mind.”

If Caesar really heard what was on your mind, then he’d be appalled. That wasn’t your goal, even though you’d greatly enjoy that. Instead, you had a different play.

The audience was very quiet in anticipation of your response. You sighed, keeping the tired smile. “I, um… I’ve had a lot on my mind, really. Finnick and I, we thought we had more time, time to get married and even have kids, but now it’s like that time has just been… stolen from us.” Collective awes resounded throughout the crowd as Caesar brought his other hand to his chest, like your words moved him. “It’s- it’s just not fair, simple as that. But I love him, and that love will survive, even if I don’t.”

The audience let their dismay be known while Caesar shook his head. “Oh, my dear, I have seen your love- we all have, and I know that it will never die.” You nodded in agreement, listening to everyone else agree with you.

The acting was easier than you thought it’d be. Maybe that was because it wasn’t all acting, not for you. You knew your role, and you knew it well, but your love for Finnick was not something you had to fake. It was perhaps one of the only real things you had left.

“Now, we are all in for an emotional night, so I’d just like to lighten the mood a little- is that alright?” You nodded again, though you wondered how he would’ve reacted if you didn’t. “Okay, now we all saw your display at the parade- isn’t that right, everyone?” He paused, letting them applaud. “Yes, it was magnificent. Would I be right in assuming that you have something similar planned tonight?”

“Oh, you’d be correct,” you responded, flashing a grin at the whooping crowd.

“Please, please.” He stepped back. “Go right ahead.”

You glanced at Cinna sitting front row before pressing the button of the device he gave you. The golden petticoat then went up in flames, seemingly “ejecting” the skirt of your dress, sending it from above your knees to your ankles as it went from skin-tight to flowy. The very bottom faded into a teal colour, like the sea.

The crowd’s cheers got louder than you thought possible. Caesar wowed, then raised his voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Princess of Panem!” You gave the crowd one last wave before making your way up the stairs to stand with the rest of the victors.

You were standing next to Finnick by the time the next tribute was called out and the attention was on them. To your surprise, he grabbed your hand, holding it tightly. But what really surprised you was the slight tremble you felt.

You looked up at him to see him already staring down at you. His mask fell a little, and instead of the at-ease Finnick you just saw, you were looking at a much more serious, stern version. You were confused by what could’ve brought this on, but then he leant down slightly, whispering in your ear, “I told you. I’m not letting you die.” When he pulled away, he didn’t look any less serious.

Oh, what a great liar he could be. There he was, making you believe in things that couldn’t possibly be true. You were going to die. You knew that, and you’d accepted it already. But Finnick hadn’t accepted it at all. He looked like he was believing his own lie.

You don’t know why this had shaken him so badly. Maybe he felt obligated to you, maybe he felt bad for you, but whatever it was, you weren’t gonna make it worse.

You could be a good actor, too.

For him.

You nodded, whispering back, “I know.” This looked to have calmed him down a little. He kissed the side of your head, and then the mask was back up. He kept his tight hold on your hand, and you let him.

You never know when it’d be the last time you held hands, and so you were gonna enjoy this while it lasted.

Even though this was an “emotional night,” as Caesar had dubbed it, you still got satisfaction out of everything the victors were pulling. When Johanna came on stage, she had a totally different approach than all of your sad acts and Beetee’s logic: she said what you all really wanted to say, giving the Capitol a loud fuck you.

You and Finnick had to stop yourselves from laughing amidst your shock. Caesar definitely wasn’t expecting that. You knew Snow definitely wasn’t expecting that, either. You hoped he was watching this right now, and you hoped that all of Panem could feel your outrage.

But if you were surprised by anything, it was the so called star-crossed lovers from district 12. Katniss’ wedding dress was a nice touch; she could’ve convinced even you that they were in love, if you didn’t know any better.

You weren’t the only one with a message to send to the Capitol with your attire. She spun around and her white dress was engulfed in flames, transforming into a midnight blue dress similar to yours. And when she lifted her arms, wings were revealed, and the smile on your lips widened.

“It’s a bird,” Caesar stammered in awe. “It’s like, a- it’s got feathers- it’s a bird- like a-”

You murmured at the same time as Katniss spoke up, “Like a Mockingjay.” You looked up to Finnick, seeing him already smirking. Everdeen was a lot ballsier than you thought.

“Your stylist certainly has outdone himself this time, hasn’t he? Bestowing not one, but two just astonishing looks upon us! What theatricality.” The attention was drawn to your designer. “Cinna! Take a bow.”

You were growing to like this man more and more, knowing that the Capitol must have hated him.

When the cheers died down and Katniss came and joined you all, the event was almost over with just Peeta left. You remembered the advice you gave him; you had high hopes for him, and he did not disappoint. 

He claimed he and Katniss had a secret wedding, reeled them all in, and then he added the cherry on top. “You know, Katniss and I, we’ve been luckier than most. And I wouldn’t have any regrets at all…” he paused, choking up, “i-if, if it weren’t… if…”

“If it weren’t for what? What, Peeta?”

“If it weren’t for the baby.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

The audience clamoured. You slapped a hand over your mouth to hide the upturn of your lips, feigning horror. Finnick was in the same boat, stifling a laugh.

Golden boy was smarter than he got credit for.

People in the audience stood up, shouting while Caesar tried to calm them down. They were calling for The Games to be stopped, exactly what you’d been trying to achieve all night. Caesar whispered something to Peeta away from the microphone, and he walked up the stairs to the rest of you, hugging his apparent wife.

Then suddenly, you were nudged by the person next to you, looking down to see their hand outstretched. You quickly realized what was going on and grabbed it. And then amidst all the fury, you brought your hands up together. Yes, they wanted you to kill each other, but you were all united in the same fight first.

It became obvious that Caesar couldn’t contain the crowd’s indignation any longer, so the anthem played, increasing in volume to try and drown them out, but your actions were still so much louder than words. 

That’s when the lights cut out.

But it would be a lot harder for the Capitol to snuff out the spark you all lit.

While you all did your best, your efforts appeared to be futile. Snow wasn’t against killing children, so you supposed that you all should’ve known better than to think that he’d cancel The Games for Everdeen’s baby.

However, it wasn’t completely useless. You had the public’s support. Sponsors wouldn’t be hard to get, so at least that was something. But all in all, The Games were still happening. One winner. Twenty-three of you would be dead, and you were going to be one of them.

Your last Games, you were relentless, selling your soul to stay alive. And you were gonna do it all over again, but this time, your objective wasn’t staying alive at all. It was making sure Finnick could make it home to Annie. 

Lying there in Finnick’s arms that night for what could possibly be the last time, you realized that you would die without ever having been loved by someone. You were with Finnick, and you loved him, but he didn’t love you back.

These last few days, you had been consumed by fire, knowing that you would burn everything down if it meant your lover would be safe, but it was like it was just hitting you that you’d been warming yourself up with a flame that wasn’t ever really yours.

You knew without a doubt that Finnick Odair was your soulmate.

But you weren’t his.

Tears pooled into your eyes at the thought, and so you quickly buried your head into his chest before a panic attack could came on. You calmed down to the sound of his heartbeat, the heartbeat that you personally would make sure didn’t stop until he was old and his hair was grey.

The next day was a blur between the hovercraft, having the trackers injected into you, and then being separated from Finnick. The only thing you really could remember was how he kissed your cheek before he left.

And then you were in the tube, rising up into the arena. You couldn’t get a good look at it. Every time you blinked, your Games flashed before your eyes. Sun, cold, dirt, blood, screaming, murder.

You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes as the announcer counted down. Pull yourself together, Y/N, you thought.

And then The Games begun.

Taglist: @honestlycasualarcade

[buckyshoneybunny]

Their Babydoll

WinterWidow + Shy!Stark!Curvy!reader 

Summary- Bucky and Natasha take a liking to the shy designer. 

W.C.- 2212 

Warnings- Smut, fluff, cursing, unprotected sex, oral (fem, reader), cum eating, let me know if I missed anything. 

A/N- I hope you guys like! Sorry if the smut sucks, I was tired lol. I know these fics are usually Bucky x Reader x Steve but I would want Nat more. Anyway I already have an idea for a new series and it includes Biker Bucky! Not proof read, all mistakes are mine. Hope you enjoy it my lovelies!  

Masterlist 

“Please Uncle Tony!” You beg for the hundredth time.  

“No,” he says, not even looking up from the device he was tweaking.  

“But-” 

“No,” he interrupts you.  

You stick your bottom lip out and give your best puppy eyes. It would always work when you were younger. Now though? 

“No”  

You groan and cross your arms. You smile to yourself. “You know, Aunt Pepper has been wondering what happened to her-” 

“Okay! Okay,” he sighs and pushes the protective glasses further up his nose as he looks at you. “There’s no need to bring Pepper into this.” 

You giggle and lean your hip against the table he’s working at. “You always were afraid of Aunt Pepper.” 

“I’m not afraid of her,” he huffs. “I just happen to have a healthy amount of respect for her.”  

“You’re afraid of her, Tony,” Bruce pipes up from across the lab.  

You giggle as Tony sends you and Bruce a glare.  

“Why do you even want to use the holographic interfaces?” Tony asks. 

“Because it would make designing floor plans so much easier! Using your tech would help me with the critical parts of my job.”  

“But you don’t even know how to use them.” 

“You could teach me.” 

“But I don’t hav-” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he huffs.  

You squeal and hug him. “Thank you, Uncle Tony!”  

He pats your arm, “Yeah yeah.” 

Most people didn’t know Tony had a sister; hell no one knew he actually had any siblings until you showed up with your stuff one rainy day. 

Freshly 19 and ready to make a name for yourself in the world of Interior Design, you’d moved to New York thinking this was the best place to do so. 

Your mother, Tony’s younger sister only by a few years, called to express her worry of you moving there and being alone.  

So, Tony being the ever so giving person he is, and a few not-so-subtle threats from your mother, told you that you could stay at the Avengers Tower. You were furious, ranting about how you wanted to make it on your own and didn’t need any help. But when he mentioned you’d get to meet and spend time with the Avengers, you quickly got over it. 

You were so excited to meet the Avengers, you’d always had a major crush on Bucky. You even wrote a paper about him for your history class in the 6th grade. His sparkling steel blue eyes taking you captive. You wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through his shoulder length brown hair, hoping it’s as soft as it looks. And you can’t forget those full, pink lips that could make a gal melt like butter on hot asphalt.  

But he was taken, by your second favorite Avenger, Natasha Romanoff. You definitely had a girl crush on her. She was so strong and skilled, every womans idol. She was the reason you tried and failed at learning how to fight. So what if you were thicker than the other girls? Yeah okay, you had thick thighs, a pudgy, soft stomach and flabby arms, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t learn some moves like the other girls. To be fair though, that instructor was a womanizer. 

He said, and I quote, that you’d ‘never make it anywhere in life looking like that’. Boy did you prove him wrong. You were one of the best Interior Designers in New York, you had a special touch that other designers didn’t have. And you loved your job, you loved bringing peoples dreams to life and seeing the joy on their face.  

You enjoyed it, but it wasn’t always easy. The meticulous planning, writing up contracts, getting a crew for certain aspects in and out on time could be grueling at times, but seeing the looks on your client’s faces when they’d see the finished product was always worth it.  

You had been worried when you first got to the Tower, worried the other Avengers wouldn’t like you. It was all for nothing though because they absolutely loved you, you were a part of their dysfunctional family now and they had no plans of letting you go. Everyone had really taken a liking to you, especially Bucky and Natasha. 

When you introduced yourself to them with your cheeks flushed, hands nervously fidgeting behind your back, and your shy little voice, it made Natasha want to wrap her arms around you and protect you from the world.  

But, on the other hand, seeing your long thick thighs on display, juicy ass just barely covered by the shorts you wore, and your tank top that hugged your curves just right made her’s and Bucky’s mouths water. That body paired with your shy, innocent demeanor made them want to swallow you whole. 

They had been happy just the two of them, rekindling their love once they both were free. They never thought about having someone else in their relationship, never wanted anyone else, until you.  

One knowing look and desire fill conversation later they knew they had to have you. They just had to be careful so they wouldn’t scare you away, and make sure Tony didn’t find out and do something crazy. He was very protective of you. 

So, the next couple of years were spent with heated looks, lingering touches, and subtle hints thrown at you that you never seem to catch. They were tired of this game of chase, frustrated and on a level of horny so high that they couldn’t fuck down no matter how hard they tried. Bucky was this close to fucking up against the closest wall, Natasha not far behind. But they’d soon get what they longed for.  

You studied your reflection in the mirror again. The thin strapped, black dress that stopped mid-thigh, and had a slit going up your left thigh, hugged your body perfectly. You wouldn’t normally wear something so revealing but Wanda said this dress was perfect.  

She’d said you’d definitely be getting fucked tonight. She may or may not have read Bucky and Natasha’s minds and knew this dress would make them lose it.  

Tonight was Sam’s birthday party, although his birthday wasn’t for two more days, he’d be in Louisiana visiting his sister so Steve wanted to throw him a party before he left.  

Making sure your curls were perfect, you sprayed on some perfume and put some black heels on and headed down to the floor the party was being held at. 

Natasha and Bucky were sat at the bar area, formulating a plan on how to make you theirs. Natasha wore an off the shoulder, floor length, blood red dress that fit her just right, with matching lipstick and heels.  

Bucky had a tailor-made, black suit that showed his defined muscles. His face clean-shaven, displaying his sharp jaw and his hair tied back in that low, sexy bun he’s always sporting.  

Natasha was the first to see you, choking on her drink as she takes you in, causing Bucky to follow her line of sight. His cock rock hard instantly. She bit her lip and one shared glance; they knew tonight was the night and they had just the plan to do it. 

You lock eyes with Natasha and she beckons you over.  

“Look at you, firefly,” she grins and you blush.  

Bucky whistles and looks you up and down. “You’d give poor old Steve a heart attack in that dress, doll. You look amazing.”  

“You think so?” You shyly ask. 

“Definitely,” Natasha adds.  

You begrudgingly do a shot with them after the persisted you do at least one to help loosen you up, even though they knew you didn’t like alcohol. They didn’t leave your side the rest of the night, not that you minded, you loved being the center of their attention. They were waiting for the perfect moment to sneak you away, that moment came after the cake and presents, everyone having gone back to drinking and dancing.  

Natasha loops her arm with yours. “So, firefly,” she smirks. “Me and Bucky were thinking of changing up our room, think you could help us?” There a devious sparkle in her eyes that you miss. 

Your eyes light up. “Yes!” You smile.  

They lead you away from the party and up to their room. Once inside Bucky locks the door. You look around as Natasha comes up behind you and puts her hands on your waist. She runs her nose up the side of your neck, taking in the scent of your perfume. You freeze. 

“Nat?” You ask on a shaky whisper.  

“Yes, firefly?” She nibbles on your ear, causing you to shudder. 

Bucky stands in front of you and cups your face, tilting your head to make you look at him. His lips inches from yours. Your follow-up question gets stuck in your throat. 

“Do you know,” Bucky starts, leaning forward to nudge his nose with yours. 

“How long we’ve been waiting for you?” Natasha finishes, kissing your shoulder. 

“What?” You ask through the already forming fog in your brain. 

“We want you, firefly. Will you let us have you?” She slides her hands up to just under your boobs, waiting for your consent. You whimper and nod. 

“Words doll,” Bucky says. 

“Yes,” you whisper breathlessly.  

Bucky smashes his lips to yours as Natasha cups your boobs, squeezing them. You moan and grab Bucky’s forearms.  

He steps back and takes his suit jacket off, instructing Nat to take your dress off. She slowly unzips the dress and pushes the straps off your shoulders. It gets bunched around your middle, you blush, insecurities sneaking up on you. She just pushes it the rest of the way down. 

Your hands itch to cover yourself but stop when Bucky lets out a deep groan. He whispers a fuck and reaches down to squeeze his throbbing cock. You let out a whine. 

“Get on the bed and spread those gorgeous thighs, doll,” he rasps. His eyes black with lust. Your bra and panties come off and you get on the bed, laying on your back and shyly spreading your thighs.  

Natasha moans. “Look at her Buck.” He hums and pushes the straps of her dress off her shoulder, revealing she had nothing on underneath. He groans and kisses her; she unbuttons his shirt. You whine, more slick coming out and coating your folds. They break apart and grin. 

While Bucky finishes taking his clothes off, Natasha comes beside you and starts to play with your breasts, pinching and tugging your nipples causing you to moan. Bucky, now naked, kneels between your legs, taking in the sight of your soaked pussy.  

“Already so wet and we’ve hardly touched you babydoll,” he taunts. You whine, the feeling of his hot breath causing you to shudder. 

“Don’t tease her Buck,” Natasha says as she takes one of your nipples into her mouth.  

She nips lightly at the bud as Bucky presses his tongue to your clit, you let out a high-pitched moan and grip his hair. As she teases your nipples, Bucky eats you out like a starved man, mumbling out how good you taste in between slurps and gasps of breath. 

Bucky can’t handle it anymore and stands up before you can cum. “I gotta be in you, doll, fuck.” He gets in between your legs and lines his leaking tip up with your entrance.  

He slowly slides in and your eyes roll back. He gives you a second once he bottoms out, letting you adjust. Natasha rubs your clit as he starts to move. 

“How does she feel?” She asks 

“S’fucking good, so tight, shit” He groans and pounds into you. 

Natasha oscillates between making out with you and sucking you breasts and leaving hickies. She keeps rubbing your clit. You grip the sheets, panting and moaning. Bucky angles his thrusts just right and you scream as he hits that spot inside of you that causes you to see stars. 

“I-I’m go-....gonna...” You can’t even finish your sentence. 

He speeds up his thrusts, “Cum, doll, soak my cock.” 

Your eyes roll back and your back arches as you squirt, soaking his balls, thighs, and the bed. His hips stutter as he cums unexpectedly, he rides out both of your highs, his cock not softening at all.  

Natasha motions for him to pull, when he does, she immediately gets between your legs and eats you out, moaning at the taste of your slick and Bucky’s cum. He groans and starts to fuck her. 

This goes on for hours, both of them pull orgasms out of you. By the end of it, you lay cuddle between them, exhausted. They say that they want you to be a part of their relationship, you agree, feeling like you’re dreaming. The two people you’ve had the biggest crush on actually wanted you to be with them, you couldn’t have been happier. 

When Tony finds out he whacks both Natasha and Bucky in the back of the head with a rolled-up newspaper. He also now carries a spray bottle with him for when y’all get a little too handsy.  

All in all you’re living your dream and you couldn’t be happier.

[lit3rallyll0yd]

dating the ninja: series (headcanons) | lloyd garmadon , jay walker x reader<3 ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

a/n: theres a word limit, and i dont have enough space to add all the ninjas in one whole post, so we're doing this in parts of two. hence; series! part one will be lloyd and jay :) also this is mostly my old writing, words may not be spelled correctly.

warnings: none really, more like i cant remember lol

just enjoy (╥﹏╥)

 · It took him so long to consider liking you. He's been through so much, especially after Harumi, he's scared to fall in love again. 

 · But he's been with you, even before Harumi and he knows you're not a bad person. He just has some trust issues her's trying t deal with. 

 · Harumi kinda broke him :/

 · After considering his crush on you, it was Jay and Kai's mission to make him confess to you. Nya was with you on the other end. You told her you liked Lloyd for while and she had the biggest, dorkiest smile on her face as she squealed and hugged you. 

 · When Jay confessed to her, she was speechless, she can only imagine the pain you feel not being able to tell the person you liked them. 

 · Confessing to you was the hardest thing he's ever had to do. He would stammer on his words, make weird Lloyd noises like groans or whines when he messed up on a simple sentence, and his face would be as red as a tomato. 

 · You felt stunned when Lloyd stood in front of you waiting for a response. You would say nothing but give him a hug and said 'I love you too, Lloyd.' and he had tears of joy falling from his eyes.

 · Nya, Kai, and Jay would be in the back hiding, spying on the too. When they say them hug and kiss each other on the lips, Jay jumped out a screamed "LET'S GOO!!" 

 · Durning the relationship, Lloyd would be the sweetest boyfriend even though he has no clue what he's doing. He wants to give you the world, but has no idea how to do that. 

 · He's also not the best with PDA. He's never received much as a kid, so he gets a bit jumpy when someone hugs him by surprise or when he holds someone for a certain amount of time.

 · Comic store dates>>>

 · He has no idea how to plan a date, so he normally asks if you want to go to the comic book store with him and you'll go from there.

 · One time a date ended with you both getting ice cream and taking a walk around the beach docks. Wanting to take a peaceful selfie of you and him and a sudden seagull came and snatched his ice cream right out of his cone, hitting him in the face.

 · You now have a photo of a burry Lloyd losing a fight to a seagull while your in the back scared but laughing at the same time. 

 · You taught Lloyd how to ride a bike. When he was still younger you noticed how little he knew about riding a bike, so when he grew you were able to show him and he got a little bit embarrassed when the guys found out.

 · When you both sleep, Lloyd's normally the first to wake up but he's  g r u m p y !!! 

 · He wakes up because of training and because of that he's kinda forgotten how to sleep in in the mornings. Hence why's he's so tired in the mornings and sometimes afternoons? 

 · He's also nervous to cuddle you while you sleep, but it's cute when they guys catch him snuggling into him like a cat in the mornings. He tends to cuddle into you during your and his sleep, it's so cute to catch. 

 · Did I mention he's a cat person? Lol

 · Run your fingers through his hair, tell him he's worth it, just make him feel proud of himself and he'll be wrapped around your finger just like that.

 · He's willing to do anything for you, do the same for him!

 · Non-stop kisses. Whenever he sees you you better be ready to be bombarded by kisses to the lips, cheeks, nose, and even forehead from the Lightning Ninja!

 · He likes to sneak up behind you and give you surprise kisses on the cheek. He loves seeing the way you jump forward when he scares you and when he sees that blush that forms on your face? He's gonna 'awe' at it and poke your cheek.

 · He was the first one to confess to you. It was actually not planned out even though he did plan it out with the help from Kai and Cole, but of course, it backfired during a 'date' Kai and Cole made up for the two of you.

 · He ended up blurbing it out all in one breath-

  · "Y/NITHINKYOURTHEMOSTAMAZINGPERSONINTHEWORLDANDIDONTKNOWWHATIWOULDOIFINNEVERMETYOU!YOURTHEBESTPERSONIHAVEEVERMETANDIWANTEDTOTELLYOUILOVEDYOUFORSOLONGBUTIDIDN'TKNOWIFYOUFELTTHESAMEFORME!SOIUNDERSTANDIFYOU-"

 · You shut him by placing a gentle kiss on his lips, pulling away, and giving him the sweetest of smiles. "I love you too, JJ." 

 · The amount of confidence he's got now because of that moment>>

 · Kai got a bit jealous when he was told Jay was able to get himself a lover before him, and Jay took advantage of that always giving you a quick kiss on the lips when Kai walks by, wrapping an arm around your waist during movie night and seeing the angry look Kai gave him. 

 · Jay never felt more pleased- PFT

 · Kai soon found Skylor and his jealousy was soon gone. 

· Dates happen more often than you think. He takes you to the movies, gets some food, but he's sometimes broke and only has enough for take-out and you both sit in your room in your apartment and watch some Netflix. 

 �� You both like to help PIXAL repair some of the vehicles. The Bounty is the main vehicle you repair. The Super Sonic Radar is also one of them and Jay adores the time you both have while PIXAL'S basically third-wheeling. 

 · If you go to school, Jay loves to walk with you. He'll offer to carry your bags, books, heck he even offered to carry you! 

 · When you make it to school, Jay acts like it's the last time he'll ever see you again.

 · 'Do you haaave to go? I'll be alone allll day without your cuddles." 

 · He gave you the cutest of puppy dog eyes, but you tried to endure it and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, "I'll be back later, Jay. Don't get your bolts in a knot!"

 · You came back and he tackles you, every daywhen you come home it's adorable.

 · His favorite place to kiss you has got to be your nose. The way it scrunches up is so cute he can kiss it all day. His hands are on your cheeks, but they're sometimes also in your hair or hands. 

 · He's a cuddle bug, if you haven't already known, he can hug you all day and he will! One morning he refused to remove himself from your touch, so he rolled onto your back and you struggled to stand up...but once you did you basically gave him a piggyback ride until it was time to train. 

 · For breakfast he just chewed on a piece of buttered toast and Zane was not pleased. He told Jay to eat a proper breakfast but Jay was too into the toast and your warm touch to listen to the Nindroid. 

 · Speaking of mornings, Jay takes up almost the entire bed it's so hard to share one with him, but you're able to somehow get some room, but his hand is smacking you in the face and his legs are tangled with yours. Thank god you are used to it.

 · When he wakes up there's drool on the sheets but he just wipes it down with his hands and turns back onto his back where he accidentally pushes you off the bed now he's awake when he hears a loud thud and you standing up with a scream causing him to scream.

 · You rarely cuddle in the morning because one Jay pushed you out of bed and two you're both wide awake. 

 · He uses such dorky nicknames like, what??

 · " Hey Cutie Patootie!  "Snuggle Muffin"   

       ( or if your a boy )

 · "Mister Man"  "Baby Boy"

 · He's cringe but that's okay 

[mxkyu--x9e]

hiiii!!!!!!!! could I request best friend chan who confesses his feelings for reader on live not realizing they're watching? Hopefully this makes sense lol

|:: The chat's view on love

Author's note: Hii!!!! Thank you for much for this request!! I hope I wrote this to your expectations!! Thank you so much,I'm sorry if it's not to your expectations because it definitely did not make me happy!! But I hope it's good enough.

Synopsis: With Bang Chan's live, Stays swarm in, asking questions and such..and one slip of his tongue revealed a big detail on his life...poor boy's crush.

Warnings: Idol! Bang Chan|| fem! Reader|| nothing really, sorry if it's pretty short.

"No, Berry is actually doing good!! She's with Hannah in Australia, what are you talking about???" Chan asked the live with confused laughter, as he continued to talk with Stays on his chat. Almost a good few millions, actually.

As he answered questions, laughing softly it wasn't too big on his thoughts to really think everything through and see if Stays psycho-analyze everything he said or did. As he read out questions for himself, while playing random videos of his own entertainment.

"Chocolate or cookies and cream? I'm sorry...I gotta say cookies and cream, it's too bitter for me to eat chocolate in ice-cream." he said, shaking his head as he laughed. "How is your best-friend doing??" he read, and god was he delighted to talk about you!

He also took the time to check your texts from earlier this day, telling him to eat something, as he felt butterflies in his stomach and warmth in his chest, it was just adorable at how much you cared for him.

It felt delightful to get your texts, he didn't know why, it gave him some sort of joy...sure it meant he loved you, you're his best-friend after all, since his trainee years , but this just felt different...

Different from last month...He had no idea when it began, was it when you broke up with your stupid situationship type of boyfriend? Or was it when you personally came to see him after his group won and treated them all to dinner that night...

Maybe it was the fact that you cared for him so deeply, you got along well with Hannah and Berry and his entire family, the fact you always got a good morning and good night text for him in a weird way, how you're always ready to comfort him or others, how you're always the first to support him...It came naturally for him to fall in love with you, how couldn't he??

"They're actually doing pretty great. They recently got me a brand new rice cooker after my old one broke and I was crying to them about it...And god, was it so sweet!! It has bears drawn on it." Chan told the viewers, most commenting about "how cute!" they visualized it to be, how they'd like him to "show it!", and others as he laughed and nodded,

"I will, I will...when I can...But yeah, they've been good. I was texting them today about the new beats I was making and they told me very gently and sweetly, "go eat, la!!" and it's so cute! They're so adorable!!" he said, laughing, as he pressed his lips together to stop the biggest, giddy smile reaching his lips...

"I seriously adore them, they're such an important person in my life and I don't think I ever want to...I don't think I ever want them to leave me..or be apart and I don't want us to drift apart..I might not be making sense, but it's tr-true." he said,

"I ADORE them..." he said, before his eyes glanced up to catch the camera, and he quickly added, "Like a friend, of-course" His heart skipping a beat, as he thought of you again..perfect in his eyes, almost perfect.

He might have not noticed, but Stays definitely did. Speaking from the heart, his irises slightly growing large as he thought of you, an uncontrollable smile on his lips, the one smile where his tiny dimples start showing up as he smiles... That's love...not just admiration for a friend...

And you definitely knew it was love as you stared at the live with bright eyes, feeling flustered already, your stomach cramping in as if on a roller-coaster, you couldn't control your own smile after hearing his honey-dipped words...

The Stays watching knew the warmth those words spread, even in them...Like blankets on a particularly hard day when you simply want to cry, like the warm soup after feeling bad about yourself in the past few days, like the productivity you feel proud of after not living up to your standards, like that one friend's text after you feel left out...

It was warm and it spread to Chan's veins as he glanced at his phone, smiling down, seeing it was yours as he opened, his eyes widening as he scanned the words...

Trying to hide his urge to scream in happiness...But he heard a ping, and he quickly turned back up at camera, eyes widening a bit more that he was still Live..as he reached and looked at his phone, before hurriedly smiling towards the live and Stays,

"I-uh-I gotta go, Stays, a little-...Uh. A littl-emergency, I'm late-late to practice!!" he said, hurriedly shutting off the camera and picking up his phone, his bag and running out to see you as he struggled to put on some shoes, rushing down his apartment...tripping over his own feet slightly as he ran, smiling down at your text.

"I love you too. More than a friend though :)"

© Mxkyu--e9e. I do not give permission to modify, translate, copy or repost ANY of my works. Reblogs are very much beloved!

[capquinn]

Do you have any of your own dad!quinn daydreams with him and Bug in the Amazon episode? Is he the type of parent to completely avoid her being posted or he’s okay with a small amount like pictures and candid moments

oh i've been waiting for this one!!!!!

Quinn’s online presence has basically become non-existent since he became captain, which makes total sense. When he does post or share something, it’s almost entirely about his career — the odd Insta story repost from the Canucks, like charity work or celebrating a teammate's milestone, or occasionally something promotional for the Canucks or NHL posted to his feed. I mean, we didn’t even get a summer dump this year, so it’s clear he’s become much more private. The idea of him posting something personal would feel so out of character now, you know? Honestly, I’d have to wonder if he was being held at gunpoint if it happened lol

With that in mind, I feel like dad!quinn would take that privacy even further when it comes to Bug. He wouldn’t post her on social media at all — there’s no way he’d want her out there for public consumption. Maybe he’d share the occasional snippet on a private or close friends Instagram story, but even then, he’d be incredibly careful about what he shows. Think faceless photos — like a shot of her little sunhat shielding her face as she sits on the dock at the lake house in the summer, or a picture she drew of him, proudly displayed on the fridge with a caption like, “she’s pretty critical of my stick handling.” Those little moments that mean everything to him, but he’d keep them just for the people closest to him.

With the Face Off stuff, He’d want to keep her out of it entirely, likely requesting that they not film her or include anything too personal, doing his best to protect that part of his life. Instead, there’d just be traces of his family in the background — things that suggest without showing. A toy box tucked into the corner of the living room, a teddy bear left on the sofa, a colouring book and crayons on the dining table, family photos on the mantle but filmed at a distance so nothing is truly decipherable.

At most, maybe there’d be one sweet, subtle moment near the end. Like a clip of him on the boat with Jack, wakeboarding, and you hear Bug’s tiny voice calling, “daddy!” from the dock. The camera wouldn’t even show her — just her voice floating across the water while the shot stays focused on Quinn. His reaction would say everything, though: his big, unrestrained smile, the way his eyes would light up as he waves back toward her standing beside you on the shore. It’d be the perfect glimpse into his life as a dad without crossing the line into showing too much.

They might ask him during the interview part of filming what it’s been like balancing being a captain and a first-time dad, and his lips would twitch into that soft, shy smile, his gaze dropping for a moment like he’s carefully choosing what not to say. His answer would be thoughtful yet still so reserved. Something like, “it’s been amazing. It’s definitely a balance — wanting to give everything I can to both — but being her dad is the best thing I’ve ever done. She's pretty great.” And I can just imagine his smile growing as he talks about it, like he’s holding back from saying more because he wants to protect that part of his life so fiercely. The cameras might linger on him for a moment after his answer, his expression so sweet and so vulnerable, almost distant, like he’s thinking about Bug back home, probably drawing another masterpiece for the fridge.

It feels like exactly the kind of balance Quinn would strive for — protecting his family’s privacy while still giving the smallest, most heartfelt window into the joy of what being a dad brings him.

[hunnylagoon]

Right Where You Left Me

Pt1: Coming Down With Me

Ellie Williams x reader

I once met a girl with skin like kiwi. Even the butterflies were drawn to her, landing on the top of her nose, the dip in her palm. But the kiwi stung my tongue, scarred my lips and made me bleed. I do not care. Cover me in your kiwi kisses, burn my mouth and scar my flesh. Bleach my eyes and dip my heart in lemon juice. Sing your sickly sweet words until my ears bleed.

Premise: You and Ellie were childhood best friends until you grew up. Funny thing about soulmates is that they tend to find their way back to each other.

Warnings: Angst / reader has religious issues / people are mean lol / best friends to enemies to lovers / roommate! Ellie

Part two here!

Part three here!

Part four here!

I know everything about you,

You know everything about me.

I had always been bound to the earth while Ellie danced with the stars in the night sky among delusion and dreams. Though, more so than anything, we were bound to one another.

Our parents were friends, even before we were born. They met at summer camp when they were teenagers, the same camp that Ellie and I were eventually shipped off to every summer. Of course, I have no recollection of when I was an infant, only stories that my parents shared with me; My dad told me that I learned to crawl backwards before I learned to crawl forwards. Joel kept a photo album of his girl.

I can't remember days of crawling around and babbling incoherently, but I can tell you what I remember.

Five years old- Kindergarten

Despite the air being unbearable hot, it was infused with excitement as Ellie and me set foot in the petting zoo. I had never seen so many animals in one place, my little brain was going nuts. Accompanied by the gentle hum of content animals, the aroma of straw, and the distant melody of joyful chatter, the petting zoo rang true to its rustic charm.

Ellie, with her auburn curls bouncing in the breeze, led the way, her eyes widened at the sight of a fluffy alpaca lazily grazing in the sunshine. I giggled as we approached a pen filled with adorable piglets, their tiny snouts sniffing the pure air far away from the dirty stench of the city.

Our parents, watching with affectionate smiles, guided us to the lamb enclosure where soft, woolly creatures nuzzled against tiny palms. Ellie's fingers gently traced the contours of a lamb's ear, and she couldn't resist a delighted squeal as she felt the velvety nose of a goat.

As the afternoon sun cast a warm glow on the scene, the families strolled through the meandering paths, passing by a pond where ducks quacked merrily. Ellie and I, hand in loveable hand, marvelled at the wonders of the animal kingdom, our hearts brimming with the pure joy of discovery and a blooming friendship.

Seven years old- Grade Two

On this particular day, Ellie and I had been messing around in her backyard; that's all we did on the weekends at that age, you couldn't get us to go inside. We spent the morning entwined in daffodils and hyacinth that Joel has so tenderly nurtured, careful not to crush the dainty flowers beneath our wild flailing bodies. 

We had the brilliant idea to paint rocks so we had been searching her yard for the perfect flat stones we had in mind. Ellie picked up a rock and immediately threw it back down, jumping away with a shriek.

This had piqued my curiosity (As well as Joels who sat on the back porch, watching us), I went over to where she stood petrified and found nothing more than a little snake staring up at her. I dropped the stones I had been carrying and bent over to get a better look at it, it was brown and had a few white vertical stripes cascading up its thin body. 

I slowly moved my hand outwards to touch but was swiftly interrupted by Joel scooping me up "That's enough of that kiddo." 

Nine years old- Grade Four

Joel's house garnered an expansive backyard and just past the old fence that Ellie and I had thrown one too many softballs at was a lush forest. I would always clamour up the wood fence and poke my little head over it to try and gather a glimpse of wildlife, Ellie usually had to give me a little boost. "Hold still!" She hissed with her arms wrapped around my torso to help lift me, my scrawny arms shook as I tried to pull myself up even further.

The wood rot of the ancient fence finally set in and with the both of us pressing our mighty weight against it collapsed with the fence. We heard the splitting of wood, I got the worst end of the stick, toppling over and putting my hands out to protect myself. I could've sworn that I heard my wrist break like a crunch.

While I did what felt like a three-sixty frontflip over the fence just for my small head to come down on the end of it with a solid smack, Ellie had just flopped on top of it, green eyes widening in shock when she saw my once straight arm now had an abnormal bump coming out from my wrist. "What's wrong with your hand?"

"I don't know I'm probably dying!" I screamed as loud as my voice could carry, that was the first time I had felt adrenaline run through my veins. "You killed me!"

"No, I didn't!" She retorted, scrambling off the fence and back up to her feet. She was clad in a Jurassic Park T-shirt that she practically was swimming in and those pink and orange plaid Bermuda shorts that any kid in the 2000s owned. "Dad!" Ellie yelled, calling for Joel.

I felt the tears welling up in my eyes and finally, I released the sob that had been building up in my throat. She was almost dumbstruck and just ended up kneeling and wrapping her arms around me in a hug.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." She muttered.

10 years old- Grade Five

Ellie had been practicing guitar the entire time I was at her house, Joel had gifted her his old guitar and she was so set on perfecting every cord, every half-hour she would ask for a song recommendation and then flip through the songbook she got to find it.

I was curled up in her bed reading The Hunger Games over again "Els, are you team Peeta or Gale?" I was always at Ellie's house, mine was too busy all the time; I had three siblings, Naomi and Aaron who were twins and two years younger than me and my brother Elijah who was three years older than me. I loved going to her house on Saturdays so I could sleep in and wriggle my way out of going to church. Even though her house was right across the street from mine and my parents would bang on Joel's door, he always covered for me.

"Uh," She was distracted by something in her songbook "Team Katniss?"

I nod in approval to myself as she isn't paying attention "You know who Gale reminds me of?" I ask and without Ellie giving me a response I answer anyway "Luke, I think I kind of like him."

Those are the words that get her to look at me "Ew, he's so weird."

"He's nice to me."

She wrinkles her nose in distaste then shrugs, returning to her guitar which sits awardly in her scrawny frame.

12 years old- Grade Seven

"Fuck!" I yell, kicking the grimy green dumpster in the graffiti-covered ally out of anger, though I kicked it a little too hard now my foot hurts I refuse to admit it "Fuck I hate them!"

Ellie leans against the brick wall on the opposite side of the alley, our bikes discarded on the ground while I hopelessly rant to my friend about my parents. She doesn't say much, just little nods of agreement. My parents had caught me skipping church and they laid into me, saying that I had no respect for them or god and whether that was true or not didn't matter, I was full of pre-teen angst and needed to call my friend to go for a bike ride around town.

"She fucking tore my room apart, I never see them get mad at Aaron or Naomi!" I drag my hands down my face before I look back at the dumpster and kick it again "Ow, cunt!" I'm now hopping on one foot while my knee bends my other leg and I hold my beaten red Converse, covered in doodles, to soothe the pain of my poor toes. It's moments like this that remind me why I love Ellie, because as stupid as I look hobbling around and cussing, she doesn't laugh at me even though I know she wants to.

After a little bit of me aimlessly yelling I finally wind down. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to remember those breathing exercises that we were taught at school assemblies. "Thanks for listening to me talk shit, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," She shrugs "I've seen you do worse."

This cracks a smile on my face, I turn my head and am met with the Jackson skyline, a beautiful pink sunset on the horizon "Sun's setting," I say.

"Sleepover?" Ellie asks.

"Sleepover," I confirm.

13 years old- Grade Eight

We were thirteen when our parents shoved cash into our hands and dropped us at the mall to go back to school shopping by ourselves for the first time. Every parent's nightmare was a busy mall so when they figured us old enough to venture into the dreaded foodcourt on our own, believed they were taking that opportunity. 

Ellie had bought a couple of T-shirts and hoodies here and there, not too particular about what she was buying, though I was very nit-picky over what I wore so I forced Ellie to judge every single outfit that I wore and rate it, she gave the same answer every single time "It looks fine."

"Cool but I don't wanna look fine, I wanna look pretty," I say in frustration, walking back into the dressing room to try on another outfit. Ellie is sitting in the fitting room on a pink velvet couch, arms crossed and waiting for me to finish. "How's this?" I ask, walking out of the changing stall and giving her a little twirl.

"It looks fine- I mean good, everything looks good on you." She sounds almost exasperated. Ellie's hair was still that vibrant auburn colour that my mother was obsessed with, it had yet to fade out into a duller brown with age.

"Really?" I perk up just the slightest.

"Yeah, you look really pretty." She gives me a little nod of confirmation. I know that she's only saying that because she wants to go to the food court and get a cinnamon bun but I believe her anyway.

14 years old- Grade Nine

We were just nearing the end of the second half of our soccer game. It was the tournament and we were only a point away from placing first in the league, the thought of it had kept me up all week I was running off of Subway sandwiches and Gatorade. 

Riley (the midfielder) swiftly passed the ball to me before she was surrounded by the other team's defence, I looked up to the clock and there were only seconds left in the match. I let my instincts take over, my parents forcing me into soccer since elementary school was not going to wind up useless. My footwork took me up the right wing just before the penalty box. 

I wasn't paying enough attention to notice the tall blonde girl in a slick back ponytail closing in on me. I hear Ellie shout my name and that's all I need to make this last pass, I barely even looked up before power-driving the ball to Ellie who was merely six metres away from me. I slipped onto the muddied field with that kick, watching Ellie waste no time to score our final goal the second her cleat touched the ball. 

The clock deadlocks and I drag myself off the ground running towards my best friend, I jump on her almost taking her down with me though she manages to steady herself. "I fucking love you!" I scream hugging her with all of the force I can muster. She hugs me in return, unable to get any words out between her laughs. The team is quick to swarm us, everyone is shouting about our well-deserved victory but not one person is louder than Joel in the stands.

15 years old- Grade Ten

Snow was falling as I stood in the foyer of the high school, still waiting for my date for the winter formal to arrive. Conner had asked me out weeks ago, we hadn't talked much since though I just figured that was because he was shy. I even left school early to get ready and spent hours meticulously pinning every hair into place and adjusting my navy blue satin dress so it would drape across my body in just the right way.

My sister, Naomi was an aspiring makeup artist so I let her dust my eyelids in silver glitter, I forced Warren to drive me. All of that was just for me to get stood up. Conner hadn't texted me all day, I knew he wasn't coming that didn't stop me from forcing denial on myself. "Hey," I heard a soft voice sound behind me, I wasn't surprised to see Ellie. Even though our parents were no longer friends, we were close as ever.

"Hi," My voice was hushed and feeble.

"The dance started an hour ago," She said, that night she had been wearing a white button-up with a pair of jeans and her hair half up. It was clear the dance wasn't as big a deal to her as it was to me. All she had done was ask Riley to go with her and call it a day. Despite her lack of effort, she looks beautiful as ever "I don't think he's coming," She said bluntly.

That's the exact moment I felt myself crack, tears welled up in my eyes and I lurched forward to hug her, flailing my arms helplessly to search for comfort "Then why did he ask me to go with him?" My sobs were drowned out by the sound of Kesha blasting in the overcrowded gym.

"I don't know, but he's an idiot for standing you up," Ellie holds me close and I never want her to let go "I wouldn't have ever done that to you."

16 years old- Grade Eleven

This is where things begin to fall apart. I found Ellie on the back porch of some random guy's house at a party. "I figured I would find you out here," I say, taking a seat next to her on the wooden steps, I hug my knees close to my chest.

"What's up?" Beside me, Ellie is unnervingly calm, she nurses a joint, taking a long hit and letting the smoke turn to clouds. 

"Conner kissed me," I say cutting to the chase

I can tell she doesn't like the thought, she hated Conner, ever since he stood me up at the winter formal but she bites her tongue "You guys gonna date?"

"I think so."

"Good for you."

"I don't know if I liked it," My eyebrows are furrowed, and I pull my knees in even further, inhaling the crisp autumn air and the smell of Ellie, she smells like cannabis, firewood and bar soap. 

"What do you mean?" Ellie puts out the end of her joint and tucks what remains of it into an empty Altoids container.

"Nothing," I dismiss it, "It doesn't matter, I just wanted to talk to you," Ellie had softened every burden for me since we were girls. "Um, so, my parents are sending me to boarding school next year."

"No, they're not-

"They are."

Ellie doesn't seem so calm anymore, she adjusts her body to face mine and she's so close I swear to god I could've counted every freckle on her face. "Why, what did you do?" The way she looks at me makes me wish that she was a boy.

"Nothing!" I retort "They think I'm straying from god, it's a Christian school." That was my code for 'they think I have a crush on you and I rather not get disowned by my super religious parents!'

"come stay with me and Joel-

"Ellie, please," I place a hand on her thigh "I don't think I can get away from this one."

That was at the end of September, it only got worse from there. I partially wished that I didn't tell Ellie that I had to leave, every time we hung out it just felt like words were hanging between us like birds on a wire and neither of us could say what we wanted. I forced myself to distance myself from her, I didn't know how else to handle my feelings. 

She would blow up my phone and come by my house even visit my work but I just told her that I was busy. I could tell that she didn't believe my excuses for a second, she had English with my new boyfriend, Conner and would get him to relay messages and notes to me.

It didn't get easier to ignore her, my family prying about where she had been. I never told my parents that Ellie was gay, though I know they had always had a suspicion and that's why they could never love her all the way completely, the way Joel loved me and looked out for me. My mom and dad liked that I swapped out Ellie for Conner, by February, my dad even started to call him son. 

In March Ellie and I had stopped talking completely, she gave up on texting me and coming by my house just for my siblings to lie about my whereabouts. It hurt to see the resentment gleam in her eye every time she passed me in the hallway. 

She didn't speak a word to me until the start of the summer bonfire which was custom in our town. If I had known she would be there I never even would have thought about going. I rather not rehash this awful night, not right now just know that it ended with some alcohol, a bit of blood in the sand and me telling Ellie 'I would pick him over you every single time.' Yikes, that's not a good look for me. I spent the rest of my summer burying her in the back of my mind until boarding school finally came upon me and I graduated with friends I didn't like in a place that didn't feel like home. 

I was sixteen then now I'm nineteen, no longer a girl but not yet a woman. Those were some key moments of our friendship. I'm not so sure why I felt so mature at the age of sixteen. I had taken a gap year and loved every minute of it, I backpacked in Australia, worked as a camp counsellor in the summer then left to work at a turtle conservatory in Bali, I was making pennies but the experience was worth it. 

I arrived at my new home sunkissed with Ellie far in the back of my mind. I didn't know much about who I would be rooming with, I had only spoken to Dina over a Zoom call who was a friendly girl with warm eyes and ink-black hair spilling over her shoulders. I just prayed that none of them were Craigslist killers.

It took me entirely too long to find parking, when I finally did, I grabbed two of my suitcases, unable to hold anything else, the rest of the boxes jammed into my car would have to wait. I read over the text that Dina sent me what seemed to be a million times to make sure I had the right address. It was a small-ish one-story flat with brown walls that had white accents along corners and the doorway with a wood-panelled gable roof. As far as college housing went, I was happy. It looked like something I would've made in the Sims when I was a teenager. 

I walk to the front door, the entrance is framed by intricately carved moulding, its details telling a story of craftsmanship and tradition. The wood, polished to a warm, inviting glow, exudes a sense of richness and history. I knocked on the door and heard a voice shouting that she would get it.

The door swings open and I'm met face to face with Dina "Hey!" She smiled "It's nice to meet you, I think you'll like it here," She held the door wide open, motioning for me to go in, and I obliged. "Let me give you a tour." Dina is clad in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt and her hair has been pulled back into a messy ponytail.

The layout of the house seemed somewhat odd to me, there was a corridor straight ahead when you walked in, the first room was the laundry room and contained the washer and dryer with some hampers and shelves of detergent and laundry freshener. "This is the laundry room, we have a wash schedule along with a chore schedule so we will put you on that tonight," Dina told me, I just nodded politely in response feeling a little too awkward and out of place to say anything. 

"Alright so this is the kitchen, there's a half bathroom beside it," She says, swinging her arms wide open for exaggeration I can see the chore chart hanging on the walls, it's written in chalk, and it is the laundry schedule. There are little laminated tags with each person's name on them, though I can't quite make out the names from where I am standing. The fridge is covered in postcards, magazine cutouts, polaroids, and bright magnets of papayas and flowers, I automatically assumed this was Dina despite not knowing the other roommates. The kitchen is open with no walls to hide it, the oven and dishwasher are built into counters against the walls as well as the sink which i spotless at the moment, there isn't a dining table but a kitchen island with stools. Past the island you can see the living room, there are two grey couches with decorative pillows and fuzzy throw blankets, a coffee table that looked handcrafted with care and of course a TV. 

Have I mentioned there are plants everywhere? Like everywhere. "Okay, so," Dina keeps on moving and I trail behind with my suitcases, over there is my room and Cat's and Abby's," She points to the left of the living room where there is a short hallway with three doors, one on each wall of it. "There's Cat now," She waves at her roommate.

Cat is relatively tall, she has black hair that's tied into a bun, and she's wearing plaid pyjama pants and a black tank top, I can see her abundance of tattoos. She has one sleeve of laurel cascading up her arm and the other is patchwork done right, each separate piece blends almost seamlessly into the next. "I like your tattoos," I say, not wanting to sit in any more silence.

She grins at me "Thanks, love," I nod in response to her, Cat looks down at the suitcases that I'm lugging around "Dina, take this poor girl to her room already."

"I was just getting there," Dina teases and motions for me to follow her "So over here is the bathroom and of course your room, I left your copy of the house key on your mattress," She opens it up. The bedroom is completely blank aside from the boxed bedframe, shelf, vanity and mattress that I had to send over prior. There's a built-in closet in the wall. 

I put my suitcases on the ground "I'm gonna grab the rest of my stuff from my car," I offer up a tight-lipped smile.

"Wait a second," She takes my hand and then knocks on the bedroom door parallel to mine. "I'm coming in!" Dina announces pushing the door open, there's a brunette girl hunched over her desk. My breath hitches in my throat when she turns around "This is Ellie."

I can see the panic that momentarily takes over Ellie when she spots me before it's replaced by a false coolness, "Hey," She says before turning back to her laptop and putting her headphones back on. It felt like my heart had shut down, why the fuck did I sign the lease?

"Sorry," Dina shuts Ellie's door "She's not the friendliest of the bunch but she'll warm up to you eventually," Dina walks to the front door with you Abby should be around here somewhere."

I had gotten so frustrated trying to set up my bed frame that I sheepishly left my room and asked for help, god bless Abby. She was putting everything together so easily, I watched her in awe as she finished adding the final screw to my bedframe. "Want help setting up the mattress?"

"Yes, please," I say, I grab one end of the mattress while Abby gets the other, she tells me to lift on three and I listen, she carries the majority of the weight but it still feels like an accomplishment on my part. "So does everyone here go to Northridge?"

"Yeah, except for Cat, she's a tattoo apprentice."

"Cool, cool," I search for words, "What are you majoring in?"

"Kinesiology," It makes sense, I could've called that by looking at the fit gym rat who was now sitting on my bed. "You?"

"Wildlife biology,"

"So you like animals and conservation and stuff?"

"Mhm," I nod "It's honestly kind of hard to not have any animals in my life." I was missing all my pets back home, when I wasn't with them I was working at a conservatory or at a summer camp where I took care of all of the horses, and Ellie's dog, Achilles.

"You'll get used to it, living with Dina is the same thing as living with an animal," She smiles and for the first time, I feel comfortable. Abby watching me with her blue eyes as I begin to unpack my abundance of boxes, I kind of just dump everything onto the ground because I can't remember which box has what, the first thing I search for are my coat hangers. I dump out a box with a bible, wall cross, and rosery and golden cross necklace from a box of random knickknacks. "You religious?"

"Kind of?" I question it myself "Not really, it's just my family, I packed that stuff to make my mom happy."

Abby nods "I get it."

"You do?"

She backtracks "No, but I can try to."

I shake my head, "I wouldn't try if I were you, I spent nineteen years trying to get away from it." I was sure other Christian homes were healthy but mine wasn't one of them, the way my parents obsessed over Jesus was honestly frightening.

"Hey, do you wanna come watch a movie when your done unpacking?" Abby asked, "Get to know your new roommates a little better."

I don't entirely want to, I wasn't ready to talk to Ellie. I still hadn't wrapped my head around the fact that I was living with her and that she was pretending she didn't know me, despite this, my words betrayed me "For sure."

I sat on one of the couches beside Abby, I made myself as small as I could, thinking that maybe I could make myself disappear. Cat and Ellie crammed themselves on the other while Dina took the plush armchair. I felt so out of place everyone here had relationships, I had one with Ellie before I severed it 'Grown Ups' was playing on the flatscreen though it seemed I was the only one paying attention.

The four girls all laughed and talked their way through the movie, Abby, Cat, and Dina would ask me a question here and there but I didn't know them well enough to pitch in. I kept telling myself that I needed to push through, if Spiderman could do it, so could I.

I didn't even finish the movie, halfway through I excused myself saying I was tired which wasn't necessarily a lie. It was difficult to fathom how well Ellie was playing it off, acting like she never met me. I walk into the bathroom, clean towel in hand, ready to scrub off the stress of today. Beside the mirror, I see a cardstock poster decorated with bright markers and doodles.

HOUSE RULES

#1 No underwear left in the bathroom

#2 Wash your dishes

#3 Break it? Tell Abby

#4 No smoking inside

#5 Privates are private!

#6 Pls don't drink and drive (We have a couch)

#7 Give your beloved roommates a heads up before having someone over

#8 This is a residence of women so the seat goes down!!!

#9 Respect the bedrooms

#10 Having sex? Keep it quiet

#11 NO DRAMA!!!!!!!!

#12 Follow chore and wash chart

#13 Don't eat what's not yours! (Without asking)

I finish reading the last bit and mutter to myself  "Wasn't planning on it." I run the water so hot that it feels cold and I'm quick to not use all of the hot water and have my roommates hate me on my first night here. Everyone has their little drawers in the bathroom, mine is empty aside from some floss and cotton pads that the girl before me left behind. I make a mental note to make use of my bathroom drawer tomorrow and fill it with makeup remover or conditioner, or something like that.

Brushing my teeth and wrapping myself in a strawberry towel that I had purchased at a craft fair, I open the bathroom door, I can see the light of the TV and the sound of chatter from the living room. However, I ignore it and make a B-line to my bedroom. Even though I had spent hours unpacking and pinning up posters it still didn't seem homey.

I slip into shorts and a t-shirt, leaving my hair as is and throw myself onto my bed. My towel is discarded onto my bathroom floor. When I turn on my phone I am bombarded my messages from my parents, my mother has probably sent me twelve Google pins to the closest churches, I answer her with a thumb-up emoji and settle into my bed to scroll through social media and see how much fun all of my friends are having. 

Fucking Ellie. She's plaguing my thoughts, I think of what I said to her and it makes me cringe, I want to smother myself with my satin pillow. I don't even have food to eat, grocery shopping wasn't something that I put on my priority list and right about now I was but Ellie, god, why was I such a dick? Because I didn't know what else to do- whatever, I was a scared teenager. What would you have done? Probably kiss her you lesbo.

Lord, it makes me sick to think about what could've been.

15 years old- Grade Ten

Ellie and I were sitting at a fire pit at her uncle Tommy's lake house. It was a Fourth of July party except we were the only teenagers there; everyone else was friends of Tommy and Maria or some distant relatives of Ellie's or children of said people.

After five years of practicing day and night, Ellie had just about mastered the acoustic guitar, she played and I sang, wrapped up in her flannel, I was tucked close next to her. 

She struck every cord perfectly and I began to sing absentmindedly, the song that had been carved into my brain. Ellie looked so insanely beautiful illuminated only by fire and the stars that hung in the sky, if it hadn't been a sin I would've kissed her.

Talking to her felt as holy as praying to god but I knew it was as sinful as worshipping the devil. 

If it was so wrong why was I born in God's image?

Her gentle hand strummed on the chords of the guitar, the same calloused hand that had once turned water into wine. Her laughter was the sound of a church choir 

I wish I told her how much I liked her but what would've happened if I did? What would my parents think, they would kill me. 

Part of me didn't care how my parents would react, if I spoke up, I could say goodbye to my inheritance and having college paid for. Maybe that was an unfair assumption to make on my part. Ugh. FUCK, I don't know, let's get to the next part of the story.

I couldn't sleep that night, I thought maybe a glass of water would soothe me, well I didn't really think that but I was hungry and thirsty and water was the only thing in that house I had the right to ingest. I figured that I could fill myself with water and zip to Denny's in the morning then grab some groceries.

Poking my head out of my door, I checked to see if anyone was still awake before gingerly taking hushed steps towards the kitchen, I was trying to be as light as Thumbelina. I hadn't noticed Ellie bumming on the couch, scrolling through her phone. 

"You cooking all of that non-existent food you brought?" She jeered. Oh, now she wanted to talk to me.

"I was gonna have some warm water soup for dinner and chew on pistachio shells from the cup holder in my car for dessert," I answer "I'm treating myself tonight." She didn't think it was funny at all, a few years ago she would've been cackling at my subpar joke, but now she just seemed unamused. "Sheesh, tough crowd."

She stays silent.

"You used to think I was funny," I say.

"I also used to think the tooth fairy was real."

"Harsh," I mutter. Turning the tap on and sticking a finger underneath it to test the temperature. I put my hummingbird mug underneath it and let it fill. "Hey, Ellie," She doesn't answer "Have you told them any bad things about me?"

She nearly scoffs "No, believe it or not, I don't talk about you, I don't even think about you," There's venom in her voice "You haven't crossed my mind since you walked through that door."

"Why are you pretending you don't know me-

"Because I don't fucking like you," She says it like it's so obvious and it honestly is in this moment "Just because you're pretty and you act like a sweet little Christain girl, that doesn't mean shit."

"I'm not trying to act like anything-

"Yeah, well it seems pretty insincere to me," Ellie seethed and I could feel a sting in my heart, I would do some pretty horrendous things for a time machine right about now.  I can tell that there won't be any salvaging for this, she hates me to death and rightfully so. 

This is where I give up "Okay, sorry," I grab my hummingbird mug and retreat to my room.

I endured four months of that.

Ellie was pushed to the back of my mind while I ran through classes and got a job as a waitress at a stake house. I did everything in my power to keep myself busy, to keep her out of my head but she was always there, she hung around like a song I can't shake, like I'm haunted by the melody. 

Some nights when the city decides to quiet down I can hear her play guitar, and I'll quietly hum along to it. Songs she used to sing for me, she now sings for another woman, another soul. I knew that she had girls over, but I never got to meet them as Ellie did everything in her power to pretend I didn't exist.

The only communication I got with her was in the roommate's group chat, and it was always brief.

Ellie: Having a friend over tomorrow night

D-manz: Friend? With benefits??????????

Kit-Cat: Nah they're hardly even friends, just benefits

Abs: Don't get her pregnant

Me: 👍

As long as I was with the girls, Ellie was not. She avoided me like the plague, it was like she despised my existence. If we go clubbing, she takes a separate taxi, petty if you ask me. The girls knew something happened between us but they couldn't pinpoint what it was. It was Dina's conspiracy that Ellie used to date one of my friends and broke her heart. While I bonded with Cat, Dina, and Abby, Ellie would pretend to like me. She would occasionally laugh at my jokes or ask how my shift was when Dina was in the room. 

Trust me when I say I would rather forget than dwell on it but it was impossible. I know that I'm nothing more than an obstacle to her, a stain on her bedsheets, a sore in her mouth, but she was still my diamond in the rough. I will willingly ignore all of her cutthroat words and her jagged edges. 

Because I know everything about us.

[avocado-writing]

Recently started play BG3, only on act 2 right now lol. I found your blog because this shit is my current hyper fixation and I love your writing. I was wondering if you could write how the BG3 cast would react to Tav haveing hanahaki disease.

Love you're writing!

Astarion

Oh, when he notices, he feels an odd lurch in his chest.

You’re in love with someone? Who? It had better be him, he’s put effort into seducing you.

When he works out that he’s the object of your desire he’s over the moon! And then… ah. But it is a disease after all.

A lot of intense emotions flow through him. Of course he loves you, he’d be a fool not to. But can he admit that to you? Open his heart enough to let you in?

He sees you hacking up blood red roses and thinks, gods, if a few simple words are all this will take to solve it, why wouldn’t he?

He sits down next to you as you wipe your mouth, all awkward angles and longing gazes. Not his usual suave self at all. You go to ask him what’s wrong, and he blurts out that he loves you like he’s under duress.

You blink, amazed if slightly mortified by his tone, but then your lips curl into a smile. When you kiss him your mouth tastes of rosewater. Never does another petal pass your lips, and never does Astarion regret his confession.

Gale

When he sees you bringing up Sussur petals, he panics. It’s affecting your magic after all. Slowing your spells and causing lethargy in your casting.

He throws himself into research. Night and day he’s in his books looking for a cure. He rarely sleeps any more. Not until he comes up with a solution for you.

You’re getting worse and he’s being driven mad by it. If he could find out who you love he could help, but he simply has no idea…

Silly wizard has no idea the solution is right under his nose. Always has been. Because of course he loves you too, wants nothing more than to hold you and have you as his.

It takes the rest of the camp pointing it out to him before he realises, and doesn’t know how he could be so dense… but he knows he’s the luckiest man in the world if you love him.

He confesses in the middle of your coughing fit. The petals stop immediately. He would seal the look of adoration you give him into his heart forever.

No more Sussur. No more problems. Just joy.

Wyll

He’s seen this a dozen times in his youth. Time and time again people have perished from their courtly love in a flurry of flowers.

When he sees it happening with you? Oh, he knows immediately what is happening.

Doesn’t believe you’d be in love with him… but then he sees the loving looks you give him, the softness in your eyes. It clicks into place rather quickly.

And when he realises, you best bet he’s making a move to cure you.

An immediate embrace. A kiss where he tastes the petals on your lips. Your eyes are wide, but your throat is clear.

“I love you,” he states, no hesitations, just facts. There will be time for great romance later, but right now he just needs to make sure you’re safe.

When he’s certain your condition is cleared, no more coughing, he embraces you long and lovingly. Tells you what you mean to him. And when you plan your wedding… there will be no flowers.

Karlach

Panics when she finds you coughing petals. She might have been in Avernus for the past decade, but she knows hanahaki when she sees it.

Corners you one night and begs you to tell her who you’ve fallen for. She’ll help you confess!! After all, how could anyone not feel the same about you? Anything is better than this, this purgatory of petals where love is being kept secret.

Your smile is wobbly when you tell her there might be a time span on this person’s love. She thinks, oh, Gale? Because of the orb?

It takes a moment for things to fall into place. The way you look at her. Like she hung the stars.

“Oh, fuck. It’s me isn’t it?”

You go to leave, she grabs you and holds you back. Pulls you into a kiss. Only stops to tell you that she loves you. Goes right back to kissing.

It’s then she decides not to die. To find a way to live with you, even if it means returning to hell. How could she abandon you, when you love her so much?

Lae’zel

She is so utterly confused when you start hacking up petals. Is it a disease? Some sign of weakness? It is certainly nothing that a gith has ever experienced, nor would fall foul of. They are too strong.

Lae’zel mocks you at first, like she mocks everything, but it’s in order to hide how much seeing you suffer hurts her. She is a fool to have affections for someone so weak.

… isn’t she?

One night she corners Gale (quite intimidatingly) and gets him to inform her of your condition. He tells her all about hanahaki, and she says she must find out who you are in love with and get them to return your affections.

Gale blinks. “Lae’zel… it’s you.”

Oh.

It takes her a moment to digest this. She leaves Gale abruptly (“goodbye then?”), finds you, and drags you to privacy.

“I have been told to cure your disease you need a confession of love. This is my confession.”

The petals do not stop as you cough. With a small smile, a little smug, you tell her she has to be more specific. She huffs and you laugh.

She tells you she loves you in every language she knows. It works.

Shadowheart

The most perceptive of the bunch, Shadowheart knows you are in love with her from the moment you cough up Night Orchid petals.

It’s not subtle that you’re sweet on her. But she doesn’t say anything in return - she’s a sharran, after all, and doesn’t know how you fit with her future of being a dark justiciar.

And then… she finds selûne, and it changes. All of it. Especially her view of you. She can open her heart without fear now and she wants to welcome you in it.

She takes you aside one night. Sets up dinner. A bottle of the wine you shared on that first night by the cliff. Takes your hand and tells you she loves you, as easily as if she’s commenting on the weather.

You stop coughing. The petals cease. Your face lights up. She knows she wouldn’t change this for the world.

[danikamariewrites]

Also I thought of a Liam or Xaden idea but maybe one of them falling for a Healer?

Always Injured

Liam Mairi x reader

A/n: since we don’t fully know a lot of the medical stuff in FW I just kinda made some stuff up lol

Warnings: mentions of injuries, fluff

For the third time this week Xaden was escorting Liam to the infirmary. He rolled his eyes at the blondes wide grin. “You’ve never been so…reckless before. What’s going one?”

Liam shook his head, keeping his eyes on the swinging double doors as they got closer and closer. “Nothing. Challenges have been so tough, right?” Xaden gives him a quizzical look, not believing Liam is having a hard time getting through obstacle courses.

He shoulders open the door while supporting Liam, walking him over to the closest bed. Liam lays back looking around the room for you. His eyes find you listening to your teacher intently as he tends to a ill-looking scribe.

“Ok brother, you are free to go.” Xaden follows Liam’s line of sight. Xaden let’s out a long oh and sends Liam a shut eating grin. He knew there would be teasing later but he didn’t care.

“Get better soon.” Xaden says in a light teasing tone as he exits the infirmary.

-

You saw Xaden bring Liam in. You wanted to go right over to him but you knew your professor would chastise you for leaving a working-lesson. So you stayed with the sick scribe. She just needed cold medicine but learning all kind of symptoms is important.

Once you professor dismissed you to check on other patients you headed straight to Liam’s bed. You gave him a small smile as he held his left wrist out for you to take his pulse.

By now he knew the routine. Liam had been in here practically every other day. “Should you really be a rider? The amount of injuries you get I might as well tie pillows around you.” You joke with him.

Liam let’s out a small laugh as your hands kept checking different parts of his body. When you pressed on his side he winced.

Pulling up his shirt revealed a nasty bruise on his ribs. Grabbing a salve from a nearby cart you scoop out some paste, warming it between your fingers before spreading it on his skin.

“That should help with the pain.” You say quietly. Over Liam’s many trips/stays in the infirmary you grew to deeply care for him. He’s a sweet guy and was always interested in whatever you had to say.

“Thank you,” he groaned out pulling his shirt back down. “That one looks bad Liam. You need to be more careful. I’d hate to see you truly injured.” You say gravely, crossing your arms.

Liam reaches out to pull your hand into his. He gives it a light squeeze and give you a boyish grin. “Don’t worry about me sweets. I’ll be just fine.” You roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, well your visits say something different.”

You give his hand one last squeeze before turning to walk away. Liam holds on tighter, slightly pulling you back to the edge of the bed. “Wait, please don’t go yet?”

Plopping yourself on the edge of his bed you narrow your eyes at him. Giving him a knowing smirk like you just figured out his secret. “Not all your injuries have been real.” You say matter of factly.

Liam’s face turns crimson and he looks down avoiding your gaze. “Well, uhh not all of them. Maybe like a headache or two.” He mumbles.

“Any reason?” You tease, poking at his thigh. You desperately wanted to say he has a crush on you too. If he does you would much rather spend time with him outside of this room.

He looks up at you, suddenly shy like he’s speaking to you about a very awkward medical matter. “I keep coming back for you. You’re amazing and I didn’t know how to talk to you, but now I do and I want to get to know you more outside of here.”

You grasp Liam’s hand in yours, taking him by surprise. “I do too Li.” His eyes go wide with joy. “Meet me tonight? At the Bell Tower?” You nod enthusiastically.

He lets out a sigh of relief as you stand. “I have to check in other patients.” You say quietly. Liam nods giving you that boyish grin again. “I’ll see you tonight.”

[yanderederee]

OnStage

ෆ Kuran Yotsurugi x reader ෆ

a/n: replacing y/n with yan/yannchan; I think it’s a cute alternative ~ please love kuran with me with this idea I’ve had in mind to write since day ONE♡

I was told reader has the same energy as Maxine from X(2022) … do with that as you will lol

part 2 in progress (?)~

✦ •·································•✦ʚ♡ɞ✦•··································• ✦

Blinking a few times to properly adjust the contact lenses you’d just put in, you watched the blurry vision of yourself in the mirror slowly turn into a clear image. Beautifully dolled up with lash extensions and not a strand of hair out of place. You’d had to admit, you looked immaculate.

Adjusting the last final touches of your lip liner and the thin straps of your outfit, you gave the duel image of yourself a wink and a mocking kiss before skipping toward the exit of the dressing room.

It was difficult to recall exactly how long you’d been working under the Yotsurugi, but due to your late father leaving behind such a massive debt, it fell to you to pay off the rest.

It wasn’t as heartbreaking as it sounded; adulthood wasn’t exactly as glamorous as you had imagined it would be, after graduating school. Finding work was hard— hard enough that even your own father with an already established career had to even lean upon the Yotsurugi family for financial support to help get by.

When he’d finally kicked the bucket, an accident that was surely his fault anyway, loan sharks from Ikebukuro became adamant on receiving their fair compensation. Obviously having nothing else to give them, you meekly offered to pay the debt off fairly, with good-old-fashion labor.

Luckily, the boss of the Yotsurugi’s Ikebukuro branch had been lurking behind, in case there had been any fall out. Having taken a good long look at you, he agreed to your offer with a weak wave to follow them.

It became clear you weren’t the only one who had been caught in this type of situation. While it was obvious the Yotsurugi were a big deal in the crime syndicate, they were evidently merciful. You heard from a few other girls working along side you that Kongo Yotsurugi had advocating for fair debt repayment with no interest. You were lucky it was them, and not some other shady loan-sharks who would kill you to settle the score.

And just as mercifully, you’d been offered a few different occupational options on how you could work yourself to freedom; dishwashing, waitressing, stage cleaner… but nothing payed quite as good as stripping.

It was your own choice to take the job. And even though you knew in the back of your mind it wasn’t really your choice, you were happy.

There was a joy; a rush of excitement and endorphins that made you absolutely shine on stage. The roaring cheers, the glittering lights and dancing rain of money every night truly made you feel alive.

You weren’t sure how much longer it would take to pay off your debt, but you couldn’t help wishing it would never end.

Having lost yourself in the pleasure of dancing once again, your chest heaved with deep breaths, heart beating a million times per minute. You smiled so wide, giggling to yourself when finally meeting eyes with some of your regular visitors. They were so happy to see you. And the feeling made you soar.

Waving a cutesy goodbye and a final shake of your ass to the roaring crowd, you skipped back behind the stage and accepted the water handed to you by another girl.

“You were amazing again today yanchan ~”

“I know right, she’s like a fairy with the way she spins around the pole! I’m so jealous~” another girl squealed, hugging you tightly and spinning you around.

“Aww thanks babes! Good luck out there Aya!”

You kissed the girl on her cheek before sending her off.

Over the course of your stay, you had made many close friends with the girls you worked with. Some came and went, but you always got along well with them all, and all the new girls came to view you as a big sister of sorts.

No matter how you got into this line of work, or how disgusting others may call you and your friends, you were living a life where you were finally happy. You felt fulfilled in the work you did, the people you worked with, the bed you slept in, and the food you ate. You never wanted for anything more.

Life was actually good.

Robing yourself in a cute short skirt and a puffy jacket, you came out to the VIP floor to order a quick drink before your next dance.

“Leeeeo~ drink pleeasse!~” you sang upon your arrival. The bar keeper looked your way, your cute display earning you a side smirk and a chuckle. “Even’in Yan. Good show just now, looking as brilliant as ever.” He complimented before picking through the liquor in front of him to conquer up your favorite weekday drink.

“I’d say,” added in a chuckling older gentleman sitting just a few seats over from where you sat. “Haven’t gotten this worked up by a dance like that before.”

You smiled at his sideways compliment, and lifted your newly gifted glass to the man. “Im happy you enjoyed it sir~ I hope to see you for my next dance.” You winked, and began scooting off the stool. Before your feet met the ground, the man had successfully grabbed your hand to stop you.

“Don’t bother, I know what you’ve got girl. And I like it. I’ll be sure to compensate you for all the money you’ll lose out on by skipping your next stage show. Come dance for me in a private room, won’t ya?” He looked down at you with a suggestive gaze. It wasn’t like he was bad looking, older men had their charm, especially the ones who frequented this night club.

But you weren’t interested in private dances. The glory of the job was the high you got from being on stage, not the money you got from it.

You smiled politely, confidently snaking your hand to play with his fingers, before sliding them out of his grasp. “Thanks for the offer baby, but I’m booked~ throw me a band on stage and I might indulge you in a drink and conversation once I’m done, ‘kay?~”

The gentleman narrowed his eyes, and toed down the stool, grabbing onto your forearm this time. “Not interested in seeing the same thing over and over again. Only way you’re getting my money is in a private room, catch me girly?” He grew closer, despite your trying to pull away. “I got lots of it. Enough to buy you out, if you please me well. Promise.~” he slurred in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Behind the bar, your bartender had already pressed the bouncer alert, acting cool. Clubs like these had rules—strict ones, after all.

You glared at the persistent man, loosing your gleeful attitude. “Not interested. I recommend taking that hand off me, ‘nless you wanna lose it, baby.” You spat sweetly back in his ear. The closeness sent shivers down his spine, but not with fear. He smirked at the excitement, thinking it was some kind of game. “I’ll take my chances.”

He tried pulling you with him, but before he has the chance to move a foot, a man with white hair and vibrant tattoos blocked the way. You immediately felt safe, heart pounding at the sight of your boss; Kuran Yotsurugi.

“Kuran!~” you sang happily, yanking yourself free from the older man, and hopped to hide behind your shirtless boss. “Sir didn’t wanna take no for an answer~” you pouted, but seemingly unphased, otherwise.

“And what was he asking?” He asked in monotone. “Wanted a ‘private dance’. Was giving me fuck-me eyes too… Made me feel grosss.” You answered, watching as the expression of the older man sink into fear.

“It wasn’t like that! She’s lying!” He groaned, trying to play it off as a misunderstanding. “Dancers these days are so full of themselv—-“ he began to ramble, before Kuran landed a solid right hook to the guest’s jaw. “Fact of the matter is you made one of my girls uncomfortable. That’s reason enough for me to kick you out.” Kuran squatted down to meet the man eye to eye.

“My girl said she said no, so the answer’s no. Simple. Understand?” He asked slowly, coming in close to make sure he was heard.

The man gulped, holding his face before nodding hurriedly. “I’ll be more careful in the future.” He accepted.

Kuran nodded back, and slapped the man on the back of the head before standing up. “You’re out. Don’t come back for a week. Make sure you learn your lesson, ‘n maybe then I’ll let you back in.”

Once all was said and gone, you giggled, clinging onto Karan’s arm. “Boss always comes to save the day~” you acknowledged, nuzzling your cheek against his shoulder before he sighs. He patted your head roughly, and pushed you off with barely any force. “Just maintaining the order ‘round here. Would’a done it for any of the other girls too.” He huffed. You nodded, perching into a bar stool again.

“I know~ that’s what makes me love my boss sooo much after all. He’s always so considerate and protective of us~ A hero, a man among men!” You rambled in praise, making a few of the other girls who came upon witnessing the scuffle giggle. “We all appreciate your hard work in keeping this club a safe place for us to work.” You sealed your long winded praise, and finished off the drink you ordered just minutes ago.

The other girls began to fawn in a similar fashion, thanking Kuran for his ruthless display of protection.

He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes at your rallied attention, and began walking away. “Shut up and get back to work.”

Despite his standoffish demeanor, you and everyone else knew just how good of a guy Kuran was, and aimed to please him however you could.

Your smile softened as you watched him walk off, yearning for the chance to truly express your gratitude, or the developing feelings of love you’d felt for him ever since he gave you this beautiful new life.

Blowing a kiss to him behind his back, you hopped off the stool, and skipped back behind stage to ready yourself for the final dance of the night.

[notjustjavierpena]

Oops, I accidentally sent the request before actually typing it, lol

Here we go again:

The family is away for summer vacation and reader bumps into an old high school boyfriend of hers at the beach while Javi is playing with the kids (making an adorable mess with sand castles), and he sees it at some distance and get super jealous about it, but only get to talk to her about it after dinner when the kids are asleep in their hotel room. Idk, something about that with obviously make up sex for reader to show him how much she’s all his and etc

Random thoughts, I know, but I’m sure you’ll be able to work magic with this

Sand

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Hi hi hi, and so sorry for the wait. I hope this fulfils your heart’s desires, my friend. Thank you for following my work ❤️

Summary: You bump into your high school sweetheart on holiday and Javier is not a fan.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, jealousy, javi is whipped for reader, dirty talk, piv sex, rough sex, bit of roleplay, creampie, use of papi, possessiveness, aren’t they just the cutest?

Word count: 3.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51262198

Sand

Children’s laughter travels through the air to meet your ears along with the sound of a soft summer breeze, making you put down the book that you’ve been holding in your hands. It’s impossibly sunny hence why you’ve decided to hold up the book, shielding its pages from the rays, and the skin of your back glistens with sweat. There are seagulls in the air, busy noises from families around you, and the therapeutic push and pull of the waves.

Beside you, you have a glass of strawberry lemonade and in front of you, you have a view of your husband enthusiastically digging moats around the various sandcastles that have been scattered across your chosen spot on the beach. You feel refreshed and relaxed; just how you’re supposed to feel on your vacation during the hottest days of summer. 

It had been Javier’s idea to go away for a week to your hometown. You are thankful for his suggestion because you would never have voiced your wish for a break out loud yet he had sensed it despite your silence. 

You’ve visited your parents, yes, but the majority of days have been spent on the beach where you’ve gotten some quality time with yourself. Javier has managed to tire out both of your kids with endless activities, and the evenings have been filled with long, slow kisses on the hotel room balcony. You have hoped for more but a shared hotel room means that you will have to keep everything PG-13.

“Look, Mommy!” 

Your thoughts are interrupted by Inés’ excited shout. She has placed seashells on the biggest of the sandcastles’ walls, making them imitate grand windows. 

“They’re beautiful, baby,” you praise adoringly. 

Lucas is by the shore with a bucket, filling it with water for the moats. He beams at you when he returns, and you smile right back at your beautiful boy. 

“Remind Papá to take a picture of you when you’re finished,” you say loudly for Javier to hear as well. He looks back at you, grinning with genuine joy and happiness but you’re too busy staring at his happy trail just above the hem of his bathing shorts. He notices.

“What’re you looking at?” He winks.

“Nothing,” you say back and shoo him, holding up your book for show, “Go keep an eye on your offspring, Dad. I’m very busy.”

The day continues. You manage to go through a few more chapters, occasionally watching Javier over the top of your book as he is enjoying himself. 

And then it is late afternoon but the sun is nowhere near descending yet. You are interrupted in your reading by a shadow above you, and you don’t manage to catch yourself as you automatically tell Javier off, “Honey. You’re standing right in front of the great big reading lamp in the sky.”

The shadow laughs and then you realize it isn’t your husband. You look up to stare at a familiar face anyhow, and your face grows hot. With quick motions, you put your book down and push yourself to stand.

“Jonathan!” You exclaim in what you hope is a calm and collected voice. You know it is a possibility, being in your hometown, that you run into your high school ex-boyfriend but it still catches you off guard. 

“You mean ‘honey’ right?” Jonathan jokes. You laugh politely and awkwardly, and despite the ring on his finger, Jonathan doesn’t seem to back down. He hugs you, splaying his large palm on your back - right under where your bikini top sits. 

Afterward, he gives you a once over with his eyes, and out of the corner of your eye, you spot Javier glancing in your direction. 

“God, you look well,” Jonathan continues, “Still in Laredo?”

“Still in Laredo,” you confirm, curling your toes into the warm sand. Jonathan looks almost exactly the same; blond, wide-eyed, and pale. He still sports a t-shirt with a print of a ‘70s band logo on the front that you remember him buying when it was cool. 

You realize that you haven’t done anything to make conversation, quickly adding, “And you? You haven’t aged a day.”

“Never escaped, teachin’ at our old school,” he shrugs. He eyes Inés and Lucas but only briefly, turning back to you when he realizes that you are here with a man too. Javier is throwing daggers his way but for once, he has no intention of interrupting which is fair since he would have to leave his children unattended for the time it took to play macho. 

“Course you are,” you smile genuinely. It suits him perfectly to be one of the people who keep the cycle of the quiet town alive, even if it is by simply replacing your old teachers, “And the ring? I couldn’t help but notice that we’re both married.”

Jonathan tells you briefly about his wife and kids. You don’t actually care, but he lights up as he speaks about his two daughters and that’s the most important thing in this whole conversation. He has a dreamy look in his eyes as he finishes, “And to think we thought it would be us.”

By instinct, you reach out to touch his arm and then you giggle softly because the image of the two of you getting old together is absurd. You have everything you need in Javier Peña… Who is fuming without you noticing.

You hug Jonathan goodbye and the rest of the afternoon is suspiciously quiet. 

*

Inés and Lucas fall asleep quickly, exhausted from the amount of fresh air they’ve breathed in today. Outside the sky is turning rose-colored from the evening catching up on you; the sunset will be long and beautiful. But you don’t want beauty with how much tension is between the two of you. 

You are brushing your teeth side-by-side in the hotel bathroom. It’s been a tight-lipped dinner. You honestly just want to go to sleep so you can start over tomorrow. 

Javier finishes brushing his teeth first. He waits for you, looking like someone who is contemplating whether to say something or not.

You finish brushing your own teeth just as he finally makes a decision, off-handedly throwing a remark at you.

“You sure were friendly with Jonathan earlier,” he says simply.

You let out a long sigh, stepping away from the sink after putting away your toothbrush, “Jesus, Javi, I knew this would happen.”

“What?” He leans against the sink.

“You don’t have to act like a fucking… I don’t know. It is every damn time a guy even looks at me - and it’s just not very attractive,” you are exhausted. 

“Excuse me for liking you to myself,” he looks away, “I like having you alone.”

You decide on something at that moment. 

“You already have me. Don’t you know?” You ask in a voice close to a purr. Javier raises a brow in annoyance, but you don’t give in to a fight so easily. Instead, you go to close and lock the bathroom door.

“Know what?” He asks impatiently.

“That you’re the only one?” You watch him standing against the sink counter. He doesn’t look as annoyed after those words but he still isn’t overly impressed with your actions earlier. There’s no way that he doesn’t know what clicking the lock means though. If only he knew the power you have over him, the power that you’re soon to make a display of. 

You cross the room to stand in front of him. You tilt your chin upwards to look up at his face but his eyes stray from yours the second you catch them. He can get so pissy sometimes, a part of the game, but you’ll take the challenge especially when you haven’t had his cock inside of you for a week. At this point, your core aches for him. 

Gently, you put two fingers under his chin and pull it down towards his chest so he is forced to look at you. Your smile is sweet as honey, “Thoughts of you keep me up all night sometimes. Hot and bothered, legs barely knowing what to do.”

There’s a pause where you can only hear his breathing matching yours. His pupils have blown wider, signaling desire for you. 

“What do you think of?” He finally gives in. 

“I think about all the ways you turn me on,” you tap his chin but then let your hand go down. It skims down his bare chest and over each ripple of muscle that quivers with each touch. 

“Yeah?” He murmurs. His eyes flick down between the two of you for less than a second when your hand hovers over his happy trail. The second you catch him doing it, your own eyes follow suit. It’s too hot to wear his usual pajama bottoms, so it’s so easy to spot that he is hard already, showing off the outline of his dick in his gray briefs. There’s a stain of precome. 

“Yeah, baby,” you don’t even hesitate, reaching down to palm the length of him. His breath hitches in his throat the second he is touched, and your voice lowers to a whisper, “All I do is fantasize about you. The way you kiss, the way you touch me, and mmm, the way you fuck me.”

“Mhm,” he hums softly in the way men do when they don’t really know what to say during their current state of mind. You have him scatterbrained with your touch, a moan falling from his lips and replacing the hum when you snake your hand into his underwear, wrapping your fingers around his cock to stroke him lazily. 

“You like this?” You ask but don’t give him time to answer since you tighten your fist around his girth. He forces a nod and you lean up to kiss his lips teasingly soft, “You really think I would ever touch another man like this? There’s no way. No comparison to how you look when I do it.”

“Go on and I might forgive the eyes you were sending him,” he tells you with a hint of edge in his voice. He sounds more desperate than confident, more wanting than he might want to let on. It fills you with self-satisfaction because you know that what you are saying about him goes for you too; you’ve ruined everyone else for each other. 

“I told you I was doing no such thing,” you reply. He pulses in your hand, precome sliding down over your knuckles when you make your fist a tighter fit, reminding him of what waits between your legs. You go a little faster, and Javier’s breathing speeds up. 

“Liar,” he challenges raggedly. 

“As if he could ever make me come as hard as you,” you egg him on, patiently waiting for him to lose control with you, “There’s only you, Papí.”

That seems to do something. Javier yanks your hand away, and you know the strength behind the action because he breathes the same way that he breathes when teetering on the edge of release. He has stopped himself but it’s only to enter your personal space more than you even thought possible.

He grabs at your hips almost violently, steers you backwards a few paces so he can flip the positions. Now, you are the one against the sink counter and it gnaws painfully into the small of your back. There’s an air of consideration for a moment as he checks in on you during the beginning of what can be regarded as playing with each other. You give him a dirty look, a small nod and he smirks back.

“Javi,” you mumble in fake confusion, reaching up to put your hands on his chest but you don’t get to do much because one of Javier’s hands comes up to catch one wrist after the other. It’s so easy for him to do, both because of his job and his physical superiority. 

He twists your hands behind your back and roughly shoves you down over the sink. He lowers his voice as he speaks, “You’re not gonna wake up anyone, are we clear?” 

“We’re clear,” you promise, finding his eyes in the mirror. If he touches you now, he’ll find you wetter than you have been in a long while. What is it about holidays and hotel rooms? Mixed with not having been able to touch each other since you have arrived here, it is a dangerous combination. 

“Te deseo mucho, amor,” he says softly and out of character. 

“I love you,” you reply. 

He dives back into the scenario. His other hand tugs at your cotton shorts, dragging them over the curve of your ass and down your long legs. You step out of them as soon as they lay around your feet. 

“I’m gonna let go,” he says and shakes your hands in his grip to indicate what he is talking about, “But only so you can cover your mouth for me and I can get out of these fucking underpants.”

He does as he said he would. You move to prop yourself up on your elbows, neck already having strained from the mere moments you’ve had to feel the cold porcelain against your chest.

Behind you, there’s shuffling. You cover your mouth as he enters you swiftly, jerking forward at the intrusion that has you panting damply into your palm. He fills you to the brim, stretches your cunt as only he can, and then he fucks you - hard, rough, and fast.

Your head spins, your knees bang against the cabinet’s front, and you try to strain the muscles in your legs so they don’t. He knows the ticking bomb that is your children sleeping soundly in the room next door, but he cannot help himself as he drives into you. He leans over you. 

“No one but me,” he growls lowly, “This little cunt belongs to no one else. She gets red and puffy for me, no? Filled up with only my come.”

“Sí,” you practically sing out but then quickly cover your mouth. He gets rougher with you then, each snap of his hips a reminder of how only he can make you feel like this. He is getting exactly what he wants, and he has you a moaning mess soon after. 

Your first orgasm tears through you after a rough pounding of your g-spot, sending shockwaves down your spine to burn at the base and throwing your upper body forward with such a force that you nearly lose touch with the floor, standing only on your toes as you clamp rhythmically down on Javier’s cock.

“That’s it,” he praises quietly, not relenting, “You can do one more, can’t you? Gotta remind you who makes you feel this good.” 

You nod through sobs. More, more, more.

Suddenly, he leaves you empty. The feeling has you on edge, makes you look at him over your shoulder because gaining eye contact in the mirror is somehow not good enough for the look of betrayal you want to give him. He takes a step back from you whilst panting frantically, gesturing to you by drawing a circle in the air, “Turn around.”

You straighten without thinking and flip around, so you are positioned as you were at the beginning of this. He seizes your hips, hands going down your thighs to grab at them and lift you up onto the edge of the counter. 

Your hand clasps around the back of his neck. He lifts your legs up to settle them around his waist, and then he guides himself back into you and continues fucking you with a force that has you lifting your free hand up behind you to brace yourself against the mirror. 

“Javi,” you whimper repeatedly, clutching at the curls at the base of his skull. He had wanted to cut it before summer came, but you are so glad that he did not. 

“Shh,” he soothes your growing cries and you know that he’ll make you come again soon, “Be quiet for me, baby.”

You don’t think he is quiet enough himself to demand such a thing from you. His stamina has always impressed you, but it’s the sound of his breaths that tears your own from your chest. Alongside the hungry eyes that bore into you, you don’t think that it’ll take long for this to reach its peak for both of you.

“I can’t,” you stutter a little more high-pitched than you intended.

“You have to,” he says with a hint of sternness but he cannot keep it up. Especially not, when he has to take the consequences of reaching down between your legs to thumb at your clit. 

You come so fast that you don’t even have time to warn him, and you cry. So loudly that he needs to kiss you to swallow the sound of you reaching your second, over-sensitive high. 

You throw your arms around him as he chases his own peak, whimpering at the hard thrusts he is giving you to reach his end. You hear him let out a drawn-out fuuuck as he spills inside of you. He pulses, settling deep inside you. He kisses you lazily. 

Everything goes quiet except for your shared breathing. You want to say something to finish the argument that almost never took place but a knock is heard on the locked bathroom door.

You freeze. Javier pulls out of you. The bathroom counter is a mess. 

“Mommy?” Inés’ little voice sounds anxious. You figure that it’s far from nice to find your parents’ bed empty on holiday.

“Just a second,” you say with a weak voice. 

“We’ll be right there, mí vida,” Javier says as well.

“What are you doing? Why is Mommy crying?” You hear her ask and Javier’s face twists in surprise for a moment before he starts laughing, burying his head in your neck as he holds you close. You slap his shoulder. 

“I’m not crying, baby,” you reassure. With a glare that’s anything but actually angry, you push Javier away from you to get cleaned up. 

“I have to pee,” Inés continues with a hesitant tone to her voice. 

Javier kisses you one last time, and you draw it out for a few more seconds than you have time for. It’s still romantic despite you holding a hotel towel between your legs. 

“One moment, mija,” Javier says and gets dressed in his briefs. He waits for you to dress too.

When you walk towards the door, he smacks your ass and you whip around to slap his hand away. There’s a grin on your face though, “Dog.”

“Go to bed, I’ll take her,” he just says.

.

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