#The people I nearly gave a heart attack to are the most likely of the bunch

[bowithoutadaemon]

Went on another "where is my package" walk around my building. This time I took notes to check off where I had asked someone.

Turn out one of the "not an apartment but actually an office" is not owned by the same company but a different one.

And I am not certain I actually asked the people I nearly gave a heart attack yesterday. Because when I saw them I was sure the person in the other apartment had said "I have your package" instead of "I have no package" (dein and kein are so damn similar).

I have knocked on their doors but no answer rn. Gonna try again in an hour so.

[autosarcophagy-avaritia]

Well. I am alive. I guess. So theres that much.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｐｌｅａｓｅ ｍｅ ♡

♡ Pairing: drug dealer!wooyoung x good girl!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/smut/playful enemies to lovers

♡ Summary: If there's one thing you've learned from having a criminal as a step brother it's this: Never, under any circumstance, get involved with a guy like him. It's messy, it's risky, and it almost always ends in tears. It's the #1 reason you've pushed Wooyoung away for so long but sadly for you he's sickeningly handsome and painfully persistent. A combination that was bound to break you down and today's the day.

♡ Word Count: 3.7k

♡ Warnings: san's your step brother (only mentioned), wooyoung's a criminal but a cute one, heavily tattooed woo, he low key/high key worships reader's body, kissing, oral sex (f receiving, reader's first time actually), fingering, a lil handjob, scratching, unprotected sex, a lil rough sex, cock riding, choking, creampie, pet names (baby, princess).

♡ A/N: Hello, my darlings. For whatever reason (he's super fucking hot) I've had a thing for Wooyoung lately. I'm also such a sucker for a criminal/mafia/etc boy who's super soft for reader and that's how we ended up here. As always, if you end up reading this I hope you have fun with it my loves. xoxo

The perfect sunny day. You’ve been waiting months for the weather to break and finally you’ve been blessed with one. Refusing to waste it, you’ve been relaxing by the pool all day. Occasionally you’ll take a dip, letting the cool sparkling blue waters wash over you, but mostly you’ve been right where you are now. Spread out on a lounge chair, your earphones blaring your favorite song as the sun sprinkles its rays across your soft skin. 

This is the most peace you’ve had in a long time and the preciousness of it isn’t lost on you. At any second your stepbrother and his “business associates” could charge through the front door, bringing chaos and bloodshed with them, but you try not to think about it. For now this sprawling villa is all yours and nothing can take that from you. Well, almost nothing. 

“What are you doing out here, kid?” Wooyoung asks, staring down at you through a pair of dark tinted sunglasses. 

With your eyes closed, you hum along to the music, blissfully unaware of his existence. Wooyoung takes a long look at you, his gaze scanning you from head to toe. In all the years he’s worked for your stepbrother not once has he missed an opportunity to observe your beauty and this is the opportunity of a lifetime to say the least. He prides himself as being a man who bows to no one but he’d get down on his knees just to beg for one nibble at that plush figure of yours. 

Pushing his glasses back to the top of his head, he leans in closer to that pretty face and shouts, “You should really be more aware of your surroundings!”

His breath skims your cheek and you open your eyes only to see the shadow of a man, his features obscured by the sun. “Aah, shit!” you scream, scrambling out of the chair and nearly falling as you do. 

Wooyoung cackles, reaching out to you in a half hearted attempt to offer some comfort. “It’s okay! It’s me!”

You snatch your earbuds out, your eyes adjusting to the brightness as you begin to make out who it is in front of you. “Woo?” you squint, “You son of a bitch! What’s wrong with you?” 

“Wait, I’m sorry!” he apologizes but you’re already raining slaps down upon him. Using the duffle bag in his hand, he holds it up, blocking a few of your hits. 

You maneuver around it, landing a half dozen more hits before you tire yourself out. “You don’t sneak up on people like that! You almost gave me a heart attack!” 

“I said I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to scare you, honestly. Come here, let’s make up” Woo opens his arms, approaching you for a hug and, as always, you shove him away. The rejection doesn’t even sting anymore, he just takes it as a part of your charm.

Eyeing the hefty bag in his hand, you fold your arms across your chest, eager to get him out of your hair. “Tell me what you want. Quickly.” 

“Well, I have this delivery…”

You throw a hand over his mouth, refusing to hear another word. The less you know the better. “San’s not here so you can go. Thank you. Goodbye.” 

With that you ease back down into your chair, ready to carry on with your day like this never happened, but Wooyoung’s not giving up so easily. Part of you knew he wouldn’t. 

Wooyoung scoffs, his tongue poking his cheek, “You know I can’t do that. Today’s the drop off date and I don’t miss my dates, not for anyone. Not even you, princess. So here…”

He holds the bag out to you and you shoo it away. The only thing worse than knowing what’s in that thing is having your fingerprints all over it. “Fine, I’ll show you where to leave it but get that thing away from me and don’t call me ‘princess’, got it?” 

You get up with a huff, pushing past him and storming towards the house. Wooyoung takes his time, lingering behind for as long as he can, too stunned by this perfect view of you from behind to move.

“So…” he says when he's finally caught up to you, “How’s work?”

“Fine” you snap, navigating the halls with little care for if he can keep up. 

“You still best friends with that girl, uh, Charlotte?”

“Scarlet and yeah, still friends.”

“How about your little boyfriend?” 

His mocking tone makes you roll your eyes and you throw back a sharp look at him as you turn down a hall lined with sleek, black doors. “Broke up.”

Wooyoung pouts, hand over his heart, “Ouch, sorry to hear that.” 

He may be offering his condolences but that slick grin on his face says otherwise. Wooyoung’s been trying to get with you for as long as you can remember. You’re far from oblivious to it and for his part Wooyoung’s been far from subtle about it. Being mean to him has done nothing to discourage it but you continue to try, hoping that one day he’ll get the message and back off. It’s not that you don’t like him. The truth is the exact opposite. The crush that Wooyoung has on you is mutual. So mutual that just the sight of him has your stomach in knots. 

With those gorgeous features and that silky dark hair, he’s your every fantasy come true but he’s also trouble. You’ve seen what falling for a guy like that can do to a girl and you refuse to spend your days crying while he rots in a prison cell somewhere. You just weren’t built for it but sometimes when you’re alone and his eyes are on you the way they are now, his gaze hotter than the sun itself, you contemplate letting your inner desires cave to your better judgement. 

Refocusing on the task at hand, you push the thought away. “You can put it in here” you say, opening the door to the guest bedroom. 

Wooyoung steps inside, waiting for you to join him, “You scared to come in or something?” 

“No, I just don’t need to. Closet’s over there.” 

“I’m kinda blind without my glasses. Help me out?”

There’s that smile again, the one that has you melting beneath that cold exterior. Giving in, you walk over to the closet, sliding it open for him. 

“Here.” 

Wooyoung tosses the bag inside and when he does you swipe his glasses away, inspecting them. “I know these aren’t prescription by the way.” 

He just shrugs, snatching them back, “Yeah but they’re cool, aren’t they?” Stepping closer to you, he slips the glasses onto your face, beaming at how adorable you look. “They look cooler on you though.” 

A tingly feeling comes over you at the realization that you’re wearing something of his. It’s such a silly, schoolgirl thing but it’s nice and you can’t keep yourself from enjoying it. You crack a smile, a rare occurrence, and Wooyoung’s face lights up at this new achievement. 

“Oh my god, did you just smile at me?” he teases, tattooed fingers extending to brush along your arm. 

You grab his wrist before he can, staring him down behind the pitch black lenses. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” you deny, forcing the cursed smile way, “You must be, I don’t know…seeing things.” 

Wooyoung laughs, inching closer to you until you’re pressed against the doorway, a thin layer of clothes the only thing separating your barely clothed body from his. Taking the glasses off of you, he shoves them in his back pocket, making sure your eyes are visible when he asks this. “How long are we gonna do this?” 

“How long are we gonna do what?” you ask, your pulse racing at his closeness to you. He’s even more attractive up close, not a solitary flaw in sight, and the dark shift in his demeanor only makes you swoon harder. 

Twisting his arm free of your grip, he laces his fingers between yours, his thumb drawing light circles on the back of your hand. “Go back and forth like we don’t both want the same thing.”

It’d be typical of you to pull away and it crosses your mind that you should but for some reason you can’t. Chewing at your inner lip, you try to avert your eyes elsewhere, “And what exactly is it that you think I want?” 

Wooyoung tucks a finger under your chin, tilting your face closer to his. Your lips are dangerously close to touching. One wrong or right move—depending on how you look at it—and they’ll meet. 

“Me” he whispers and your body tenses, giving away just how correct he is. 

“I…I’ve never said that” you stutter, flustered by him for the first time. You feel naked, your secret laid bare. How could he know? 

“Then say it now. Say you don’t want me and I’ll stop” he says, brushing your lips with his. 

His tongue peeks out, teasing the seam of your lips and they part for him instantly, granting him easy access to the warmth of your mouth. That’s it. Years of fighting this blown to bits by a simple kiss. Only it’s not simple at all. The motion of his tongue is like a whirlwind, sweeping you up in him and nothing has ever felt so right. 

Your hands float up to cradle his face, your touch more precious to him than anything in the world. He didn’t know you’d surrender. For all he knew you could’ve kicked him in the balls and showed him the door. But it was worth the risk to put to rest what felt like an eternity of pining. He needed to know and now that he does there’s no turning back. He couldn’t if he wanted to.

The kiss grows deeper with every motion of your lips. Time itself seems to stand still as you fall deeper into each other, a thin haze falling over your minds at the heaven of this indulgence. Slipping a hand along the curve of your hip, he reaches back to grab a handful of your ass, groaning at how deliciously soft it is. 

“San says guys like you are no good for me” you say, the aching between your thighs betraying the very concept of that. 

His fingers find the strings of your bikini bottom, tugging at the carefully tied bows little by little until the fabric falls away. “Let me show you how good I can be for you, princess.”

You bite down on his lip just hard enough to make him pay for calling you that again. Wooyoung grins, kissing his way down your body. He takes care to press his mouth against every inch of you. Your collarbone, your breasts, your stomach. By the time he’s down on his knees, his tongue dragging along the meat of your thigh, your body’s vibrating from the sensation of being devoured so fully. But there’s still more of you to taste and Wooyoung’s drooling at the sight of it. 

He glances up at you eagerly, tapping his left shoulder and you know exactly what he’s asking. You drape your leg over his shoulder, your thigh pressed right up against his cheek. Wooyoung’s always known you to be this bold, confident girl but a sudden shyness washes over you and he can’t even lie, it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. 

“Don’t tell me no one’s ever…”

You bury your face in your hands, shielding yourself from the truth of his statement. It’s not like you haven’t been with guys before but they were all too focused on themselves to give you the special attention you so intensely longed for. Now, with Wooyoung’s face hovering close enough for his breath to tickle your clit, you can barely keep yourself together. 

Wooyoung strokes your entrance, swirling his fingertips in the juices dripping from you. “That’s a shame. She’s so pretty” he groans, curling his tongue against your clit.

You tremble at the contact, walls clenching as his digits press into you, scissoring you open. Moans spill into your palms, the feeling of him licking between your folds too perfect for you to keep quiet. 

He reaches up to grab your arm, tearing your hands away from your face. “We’re all alone, princess. Let me hear you.”

Slurping harshly at your pussy, his fingers sink in deeper, your cushy walls swallowing them hungrily. The silver watch on his wrist clicks with every rotation, matching the rhythm of him pounding your core. He purses his lips around your bud, alternating the amount of pressure he applies to make sure you can’t possibly predict what’s next. 

Your body tingles from head to toe, pleasure creeping into parts of you that you didn’t even know it could reach. The room’s just quiet enough to hear your arousal swishing around on his tongue, the space between his fingers squelching as you leak down his hand. You’ve never been this wet before and that knowledge only makes you wetter. A part of you has always known that Wooyoung could give you exactly what you needed. It seems criminal to have denied yourself of it for this long. 

“Woo, aah, baby…” you gasp, hands clamping down on his shoulders when he hits your sweet spot. 

He leans back, lips glistening with your essence. “Did you just call me ‘baby’?” he asks, lightly petting your spot to keep your walls quivering, “Sounds so cute coming from you.”

Wooyoung picks up speed, moisture splashing on your thighs as his fingers dip in and out of your core. Your nails dig into his shirt, hips rocking to match his movements. The pressure building is so intense it makes you dizzy. Your brain’s so scrambled that you have to remind yourself to breathe. You arch with that next desperate gasp for air and he takes advantage of this new angle, sneaking a third finger into you. 

“Say it again” he begs, still lapping at your clit, “Be a sweet little princess and say it for me.”

“Baby…” you whine as your glossy eyes meet his, “My baby.”

Wooyoung’s been hard for you since he saw you by the pool and it’s only gotten worse with your arousal coating his tongue but the sound of your voice—floaty and satisfied—calling him yours does something special to him. Something that has every bit of blood in his body rushing to his cock, the throbbing of it against his zipper borderline unbearable. 

A switch flips on in your brain reminding you that, your current position aside, he’s the one wrapped around your finger and there’s something incredibly hot about that. He’s a man that’s committed crimes you’d never dare ask about. He’s been to prison more than once, made men twice his size wish they were never born, and all his heart desires is for you to want him. You might not know what it feels like to wield the power he has outside of this room but, if it’s anything like what you’re feeling right now, it’s no wonder he can’t let it go. 

Summoning all of your inner strength, you thread your fingers in his hair, tilting his head away from you. “Take your clothes off” you demand, sliding your leg down from his shoulder. You do your best to put on a strong front but your legs are turning to jello and it’s only a matter of time before they give out. 

Wooyoung rises to his feet, staring back at you defiantly. You think for a fleeting moment that he might not listen. Maybe your bossy act was over when you opened your legs. But your fears are quieted with two simple words. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

You can’t take your eyes off of him as he strips down, slowly revealing a toned body mapped with tattoos and a cock you can’t resist wanting inside of you. “Like what you see?” he asks, pretending not to notice you blushing. 

It’s distracting how pretty the head of his cock is, pearls of precum decorating the swollen tip. “I’ve seen better” you lie, prying your attention away from it. 

Wooyoung takes your hand, wrapping it around his length to let you feel it pulse. “Have you?” he teases, noticing how you mindlessly trace each vein, admiring the slight curve of his cock as you stroke it. 

You shake your head, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, “Can I ride it? For…research purposes.”

“Research purposes? Is that it?” he laughs, guiding you over to the bed. 

Pulling you down onto him, he captures you in another sugary kiss, untying your top to let your bare breast rest in his palm. You straddle his lap, your pussy gliding down his length as he toys with your nipple, the bud pebbling with every pinch. He grabs your ass, lifting you up until his tip is pressed right up against your entrance. When he lets go your body slams down onto him, the thickness spreading you so wide that you scream between his lips. 

“You said you wanted a ride” he whispers, raising his hips to meet yours, “Take it.”

Tiny spots of color litter your vision, a flash of heat catching you off guard as you do what you can to adjust to the stretch. Your lashes flutter away the moisture forming in the corners of your eyes as you sit up in his lap, hands splayed out on his chest feeling it rise and fall with every uneven breath.

“Ah, fuck, princess…” he hisses when your full weight settles onto him and he bottoms out, his tip kissing your cervix. 

Your pussy hugs him tightly, hips rotating to feel him in every way you can. Feeling him in your hand is nothing compared to having him between your walls. You cling to him, picking up on all the finer details. It’s as if your body wants to remember it. Commit it to memory so that the ecstasy of this fullness never fades away, even after he slips out of you. Not that he has any intention to. He’d stay here forever if he could, enveloped by walls as smooth as velvet, his senses overwhelming him like its his first time. 

“Anyone ever tell you how cute you are?” he asks, gently massaging your thighs. 

You pout, knees pressing into the mattress as you lift up a few inches, pausing your movements. “Just cute?” 

Wooyoung grabs you by the hips, slamming you back down, and the force of his thrust almost makes you fold over. “Cute. Beautiful. Gorgeous…” he hums, palms tracing your figure, “You’re everything I could ever ask for and I knew from the day I met you that I’d do anything to have you.”

“Even get on my nerves?” you tease, intentionally flexing your walls around him. 

A whimper escapes him, the shock on his face beyond amusing to you. “Now that was cute” you giggle, repeating your actions but this time he holds back, refusing to give you the satisfaction. 

Lacing his fingers around your neck, he gives it a light squeeze that warns he can go harder. “Don’t threaten me. Do it” you dare, scratching red marks down his chest.

Wooyoung doesn’t hesitate, tightening his hold on your neck with a controlled strength that makes you feel safe and in danger all at the same time. His free hand finds your clit, his thumb toying with your bud as you ride him faster.

The deprivation of air leaves you lightheaded, heightening the feeling of everything else and you find yourself zoning out. There is no room, no bed, no house. Only the two of you pushing each other further towards the edge. Wooyoung can tell when you’re right there, the stuttering of your hips giving away how close you are to falling apart. 

“You gonna cum for me princess?” he coos, thrusting into you. 

You bounce in his lap—a mindless, helpless, whining mess—and his brain’s eating itself alive trying to decide where to look. At all those pretty faces you make? At the way your body jiggles from the impact? At the place where your bodies meet to make all of those delectable sounds? His eyes dart back and forth, indecisive and needy. He wants to take in all of you but there’s not enough time for it. His stomach muscles are tightening, that familiar tension clawing at his insides. 

He flicks your clit faster, maintaining his hold on your throat until you arch one last time, a moan ripping from your throat even in the absence of air. He turns you loose, the air rushing back into your lungs as your high takes you under wave by devastating wave. You collapse onto his chest and Wooyoung holds you close, too hypnotized by the feeling of you soaking his length to brace himself for how quickly he comes undone. He erupts deep within you, spraying your walls in thick layers of warmth that only make you crave more. 

It’d be the lie of the century to say that sex wasn’t something you’ve always wanted from each other but that was never just it. You wanted what came after too. The closeness of having your bodies intertwined, basking in the afterglow with his arms around you. The softness of his lips pressed to your forehead as he whispers the sweetest things to you. 

“You know you’re mine now, don’t you?” he asks, lovingly petting your hair. 

“Oh, really? Who says?” 

He leans down to kiss you and any shred of resistance melts away. You are his. You should’ve been all along. Somewhere in the back of your mind your worries linger. What if he gets into trouble he can’t get himself out of? What if you lose him one day? But, as he stares at you with stars in his eyes, you can’t imagine the alternative of not having him at all.

[slvqtore]

⟢ pairing. george weasley x fem!gryffindor reader ⟢ summary. you unfortunately got paired up with george, the school’s most annoying person for potions class. ⟢ grumpy x sunshine. reader (sort of) despises george. reader being in denial. you fell first, you fell harder. ⟢ wc. 3,2k

“alright everyone, i want all of you to make any potion i’ve taught you this year so far. now, this is worth 20% of your grade, so i expect the best. and lastly, they will be done with pairs.” professor slughorn announced as he clasped his hands together. quiet murmurs could be heard, some students already had a partner in mind, others glanced around awkwardly, while some are even scared they might not have a partner.

you, however, are one of those people who already had a partner in mind. turning to hermione, you mouthed; “wanna be together?” she grinned and nodded happily, giving you a thumbs-up. but just as you turned your head around, your heart immediately dropped.

“boo!”

you yelped in surprise before quickly frowning once you saw who it was. “george! that’s not funny, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” you snapped, brows knitting in rage. and instead of apologizing, he laughed. of course he did. he couldn’t help it, he just loved seeing your face flushed with anger. “got ya good, didn’t i?” your jaw clenched as you smacked his forearm as he tried his best to dodge your attacks—while still grinning like an idiot.

though, professor slughorn didn’t even give you the chance to throw another attack at george, because apparently, he wasn’t done talking. “ah, don’t get too excited now! i will be choosing your partner.” professor slughorn added, causing everyone to groan, while some celebrated quietly. you, too, groaned with the others. “right then! let me see..”

professor slughorn then scanned the classroom carefully, slightly squinting from time to time. everyone held their breaths. “ah, yes—yes.. hermione granger you shall be paired up with dean thomas.” hermione nodded, for all she could think of was how grateful she was not to be paired up with a fellow slytherin as they had potions class with slytherin.

“pansy parkinson will be with.. let’s see here—ah, yes, lavender brown, that is!” and the list went on, and on.. ‘til it was down to the four of you; you, seamus, ron, and lastly, george. with each passing moment, your heart pounded loudly in your chest nervously. you prayed silently professor slughorn would pick ron as your partner. you suppose seamus would be fine, too. as long as it’s anyone but george.

“ah, george! you’d make an absolute pair for y/n!” and in that moment, you could feel your stomach drop. you grimaced as you sighed in defeat, already sensing his presence magically appear beside you. “uh-uh, don’t get any closer now.” you turned to your left, pressing your index finger on his shoulder to stop him from leaning in on you any further. “delighted to see me, i can tell.” he said with a smug smirk plastered across his stupid face.

you rolled your eyes as you ignored him, averting your attention to professor slughorn who was currently explaining about the rules and precautions. george, however, didn’t stop there. he continued and continued to pester you—a light tap on your quill, humming a ridiculous tune, whistling quietly.. you name it. and it made you lose your patience with each passing second.

“will you just shut up for a moment? i’m trying to focus here so that we don’t fail!” you whispered sharply at george, minding your voice as you didn’t want to cause a scene in front of everybody. “right, right. forgive me, love. don’t want us blowing up the dungeons.” he held up his hands in mock surrender, eyes wide filled with fake guilt. you groaned, dropping your head onto the table with a quiet thump in pure frustration and annoyance.

you didn’t know how long you could survive being in the same room with him for even one more minute.

and at last, class finally ended after what felt like decades. however, unfortunately for you, you still had a potion to make which automatically leaves you the whole day with george.

lucky you.

after a short and mildly painful discussion (mostly you trying to suggest literally anywhere else), you both agreed to work on the potion in an empty classroom in the dungeons, not far from slughorn’s classroom, a space just quiet enough to focus. it was apparently the old potions’ classroom, before they moved it 2 classrooms away for some reason.

“couldn’t we have done this anywhere else?” you asked with concern, hands filled with everything you needed to brew up a felix felicis; a potion also known as the liquid luck. george, who had a cauldron under his one arm like it weighed nothing, simply shrugged. “we could have. but then it wouldn’t be nearly as fun.” he quipped, glancing over so that his gaze landed on you.

a second, then two, then three.. but he wouldn’t stop staring at you, as if although he’s doing it on purpose.

“quit staring, would you?” you snapped, tilting your head so you’d be facing him. “why should i? you look absolutely stunning when you’re irritated.” his lips then curled in a playful smirk, clearly pleased with himself. but even after you scolded at him, he still wouldn’t stop staring. and for some odd reason, very odd actually, you felt your ears burn.

and to your dismay, he picked up on it. he then leaned in, far too close, until you could feel his warm breath against your ear. “is it just me,” he murmured, voice low and filled with mischief. “or are your ears turning red?”

“ew, get away from me, freak!” you shoved his face away as he erupted into laughter, no doubt that he was very much well entertained. you, on the other hand were beyond pissed—although, your burning face told otherwise. “you’re insufferable. no wonder you haven’t got a girlfriend.” you muttered, turning around the corner of the castle halls, indicating that you and george would be arriving anytime soon.

“no worries, you’ll be my first—and last.” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows as a cheeky smirk played on his lips. you simply rolled your eyes, letting out an annoyed huff. though, deep down you felt a tinge of.. something you didn’t want to examine too closely. embarrassed? flustered? perhaps. whatever it was, you refused to give it a name. “well, in order for that to happen is if you would’ve drugged me into taking an amortentia. (love potion).” you said dryly, shooting him a sideway glare.

“ouch, that was mean.” he clutched his chest in mock offense, as if although you had pierced his heart. you didn’t even bother to reply. instead, you pushed open the door open to the classroom, being immediately greeted by a cloud of dust swirling through the air. you waved your hands, attempting to clear it out with a grimace.

“lovely, ain’t it?” george said as he followed behind, setting down the cauldron with a loud clang on an empty table that echoed off the stone walls. you, too, set down your things on the table with a huff. your arms felt a great sense of relief the moment they were freed from the weight. “now, let’s get this over with.” you murmured, rolling up your sleeves as you flipped open advanced potion making.

george peered over your shoulder, “blimey, this looks cheerful.” the instructions were dense, annotated with tiny scribbles and warnings that left no room for error. “It’s notoriously difficult. slughorn said if we mess up even one step, we’ll end up with something closer to liquid disaster than liquid luck.” you stated, voice carried with caution, and just the slightest hint of dread.

and obviously, george being.. well, george, didn’t seem fazed at all. “guess we better get it right, then. i quite like my eyebrows where they are.” you gave him a dry look in return, clearly unamused by his lame joke. “ha-ha, very funny. though, you might want to say goodbye to them just in case.” you retorted before diverting your attention back to the potion. you flipped to the next part of the instructions, scanning each step carefully.

“alright,” you muttered, more to yourself than him, “looks like ashwinder egg’s up first.” george then reached for the jar, unscrewing the lid with a dramatic flourish. “here you go, love.” you’d be lying if you said your stomach wasn’t doing a small, ridiculous flip at the nickname. no matter how casually he threw it around.

snap out of it! this is preposterous, absolutely preposterous.

you snatched the jar almost immediately, shooting him a glare. “don’t—call—me—love.” you said through gritted teeth, using irritation as a flimsy cover for the heat rising in your face. “right, noted. i’ll be sure not to use that name next time, darling.” he said, grinning wickedly. you could feel your cheeks burn, and you weren’t sure whether it was because you were fuming, flustered, or embarrassed. or possibly, all three combined. you quickly raised your hand up, threatening to smack him as he ducked down dramatically to avoid your wrath.

“right, got it!” he laughed with a hand shielding his face. “sorry—won’t happen again.” still fuming with anger, you chose to ignore him instead, resuming whatever you were doing before, grabbing the next ingredient with slightly more force than necessary.

the cauldron bubbled steadily now, steam curling into the air as the mixture began to shift in color. you stirred precisely, counting the seconds under your breath, trying to refocus.

“need any help?” he inched closer, shoulders brushing against yours. he may not have know it, but just by this simple, yet affective gesture, your heart strangely started to beat faster.. and faster, until it felt like it might just explode.

you gulped nervously. “um, yeah. just keep stirring slowly for.. for about a minute, then.. heat the cauldron—yeah.” you didn’t know what overcame you, but you couldn’t even form a sentence without stumbling over your own words. and you felt like you wanted to die of embarrassment. never, never, in your life had you stuttered. and now you’re stuttering in front of george? how absurd!

you tried your best as to not have a full-on panic attack as you glued your eyes at the cauldron, determined not to look at him. “you alright there? you seem a bit wobbly,” he remarked, annoyingly delighted. you let out a forced-dry laugh, completely obvious that it was fake. “pfft, what on earth are you blabbering about? i’m fine.” your voice sounded more defensive than it ought to be.

he let out a small chuckle, “right, then.” with that, he turned back to the cauldron and began stirring while you distracted yourself by pretending to read the instructions. you were too busy with your thoughts that you didn’t realize that george was stirring in the wrong direction, and far too quickly—opposite of what the book instructed. “you’re doing it wrong, you prat.” you said, instantly reaching for the ladle.

you hadn’t quite realized it yet, but your hand laid atop his as you demonstrated him how to stir properly—clockwise, and slowly. at this moment, he wasn’t even paying attention to your blabber about why he should stir it properly and whatnots. his gaze was entirely fixed on yours.

“—and if you stir it counterclockwise while it’s still simmering, it’ll basically explode in our faces,” you finished, finally glancing up to meet his eyes, who were already on yours. the second your gazes met, you looked away in record time before quickly pulling back your arm as realization flooded. “i—sorry.” you quickly muttered an apology, cheeks as red as the color of your robes.

he blinked. “no—uh—‘s alright.“ for the first time since you step foot into hogwarts, never, ever, had you heard the george weaseley stumble over his own words. it was as if although just for the slightest moment, the ever-so-smug, unshakable joker had short circuited. “right, then..” you started, voice still tinged with awkwardness as you reached for the next jar, trying far too hard to act normal, as if the most embarrassing and awkward moment had just not happened. “next step is powdered rue. just a pinch.”

── .✦

around two dreadful hours later—thanks to a failed first batch, the two of you finally managed to brew a passable-looking felix felicis. you both leaned over the cauldron, eyeing the glimmering gold liquid that shimmered softly under the dim light of the dungeon. “well,” george started, exhaling as he folded his arms. “looks like we won’t be exploding today. bit of a shame, really.”

you gave him a tired side glance, arching your brow. “speak for yourself. i quite like my eyebrows the wat they are, thanks.” you said dryly, repeating the same sentence he’d thrown at you two hours ago. “ah, see what you did there. but c’mon, admit it. you had fun.” you snorted softly, picking up an empty vial. “if by fun you mean almost failing potions and having to spend two hours straight with you, then yes. loads of it.”

“you’re cruel. d’you know that?” he clutched his chest dramatically. you let out a small chuckle despite yourself, shaking your head as you began gathering the scattered ingredients on the table. see, he’d never admit this—but seeing you chuckle at his jokes instead of being annoyed with it, it made his chest flutter. you laughed. at him. and he clearly took it as a personal victory.

“was that a laugh i hear?” he quipped, nudging you slightly by the shoulders. “thank the lord! turns out you can laugh after all.” he added, a playful glint coating his eyes. you rolled your eyes, trying not to smile as you grabbed the last ingredient on the table. he mirrored your actions and grabbed the cauldron before carefully lifting the felix felicis. he then opened the door before you, giving a dramatic bow. “ladies first.” he winked, causing you to scrunch your face in disgust jokingly before you marched through anyway.

“graceful as ever,” he muttered, following close behind with a cauldron in one hand and the vial tucked safely in his pocket. the two of you didn’t exactly walk in silence. it was mostly filled with george humming a stupid tune and occasional remarks here and there, which to no one’s surprise—you ignored. but that for sure didn’t last too long since your patience was running out pretty quickly.

“one more word, and i swear i’ll—”

“what, hex me? throw your textbook at my head? honestly, worth it.” he wiggled his eyebrows, clearly unbothered, dare you might say even more entertained by your growing annoyance. “you’re unbelievable.” you muttered under your breath. if only your arms weren’t full, you would’ve smacked him by the head by now.

instead, you were clumsily hauling what felt like half the apothecary, ingredients clinking in your arms as you tried not to drop anything. “alright there, love? need a hand?” he asked once he saw how you struggled with the supplies. “i’m fine,” you lied, fully knowing that all you needed was someone to take even one jar off your hands before you shattered it all across the corridor.

“you’re many things but a great liar,” he chuckled lowly, grabbing two jars and a textbook from your arms before they could slip. you scowled, shifting the remaining weight with a huff. “i could’ve handled that.”

“oh, no doubt.” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm and mockery, to which you rolled your eyes at.

by the time you reached the grand staircase just below the gryffindor common room, you were exhausted, sore, and seconds from losing it entirely. one more flight and you’d be free—free from george, from potion ingredients, and from this absolute nightmare of an evening. you practically drooled just by the thought of your soft mattress on your four-poster bed.

however, your little thoughts were soon interrupted. because apparently, God had other plans.

right as you stepped off the moving staircase and onto the landing near the common room, your foot caught the edge of the step—stupid slippery stone—and you stumbled forward with a startled yelp, your arms flailing as everything threatened to spill out of them. george reacted fast, catching you by the elbow and steadying you before you could faceplant onto the floor.

“falling for me already, i see.” you immediately yanked your arm from his grasp with a glare, cheeks and ears flushed with heat from embarrassment and—unmistakably how flustered you were. “eugh, get your filthy hands off of me!” you hissed while also trying to maintain your balance. this, however, only made him laugh even harder.

and oh, you were pissed. not particularly because he’s made you a laughing stock, but more so because you were angry at yourself. it was so easy for him to get to you—you feel these unfamiliar and strange feelings whenever he’s around and you hated it. out of all people, why george weasley? that one person who never failed to irritate you, who lived to be a walking distraction, and who never took things seriously, quite the opposite of who you were.

“you know, if you wanted an excuse to collapse dramatically into my arms, you could’ve just asked.” you scoffed, bending to grab the jar that had rolled toward the banister before he followed soon after, helping you gather some of the things that had fallen.

once you gathered everything, you finally looked up, only to see george already having a ridiculous grin plastered across his dim-witted face. you could only groan upon seeing him, however as much as you despised it, that foolish smile never failed to make your stomach flutter.

── .✦

sleep didn’t come easily that night. you tossed and turned countless times, and no matter how much you tried, you just couldn’t get him outside your head. it was infuriating. you felt as if you were a madman. “stop, stop, stop!” you screamed onto your pillow, banging your head against it several times in hopes it could stop you from thinking about him.

thank god everyone here was a heavy sleeper, if not, they’d all probably be awake by now and you would’ve got kicked out in no time. you groaned in annoyance as your face sunk onto the pillow.

this is absolutely ridiculous.

you dramatically kicked your blanket off from pure frustration. “for goodness’ get out of my head!” you dragged a hand down your face. the more you tried to get him out of your head, the more he came. oh, you just couldn’t stop thinking about his stupid smile on his ridiculously attractive face, and that outrageous red hair that looked irritatingly appealing. and you really shouldn’t be thinking about his voice—all smooth and teasing and infuriatingly charming.

you groaned once more, flipping onto your stomach and muffling a scream into your pillow. “he’s not even that funny,” you whispered to yourself, and deep down you knew that was a big lie. “he’s not even that good-looking. in fact, he’s the worst looking weasley of all time.” you, again, tried so hard to convince yourself, but you obviously knew this was yet another big lie. you slammed your pillow over your head.

that’s it. you’ve completely gone mental.

[holyblonded]

lost and found | stargirl

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, barcelona femeni x teen!teader

summary: you get lost in the city of london, causing the team to panic

warnings: light angst i would say

notes: decision day is slowly approaching and i still haven’t figured out where i am going 💔

“You have your toothbrush?”

“Yes, Olga.”

“Your Switch?”

“Yes, Olga.”

“Did you pack your gum? I know you only like that specific brand.”

“In my front pocket, Ol.”

“And what about—”

“Ay!” Alexia’s voice cut through the rapid-fire questions as she appeared at the top of the stairs, suitcase rolling behind her. “The game is in England, not Australia.”

Olga shot her a glare. “I’m just making sure she has everything.”

“You’re acting like she’s going off to war,” Alexia huffed, joining the two of you at the door. “We’ll be back in three days. And you’ve asked her about her toothbrush three times already.”

“I just don’t want her to forget anything,” Olga argued, crossing her arms. “She always forgets something.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Alexia beat you to it. “She’s not a child, Olga. She’s sixteen now, not five.”

“Exactly! Sixteen! Still a kid.”

“I’m right here, you know,” you cut in, hands on your hips. “I can pack my own suitcase.”

Both women looked at you, then at each other, then back at you. “No, you can’t,” they said in unison.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not that forgetful.”

Olga raised an eyebrow. “Really? Last time you forgot your phone charger.”

“And your cleats,” Alexia added. “You had to borrow Lucy’s, and they were two sizes too big.”

Your cheeks flushed. “That was one time.”

Olga folded her arms, giving you a pointed look. “You also forgot your passport for the Madrid trip.”

“That was… also one time.”

Alexia snorted, shaking her head. “You nearly gave the whole team a heart attack when we realized at the airport.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Okay, fine. Maybe I forget a few things.”

“A few?” Olga scoffed. “You’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your body.”

Alexia laughed, reaching out to ruffle your hair. “Don’t be too hard on her. She’s just excited.”

You swatted her hand away, scowling. “I’m not a kid.”

“No,” Olga agreed, grabbing your suitcase and giving it a once-over. “You’re a teenager who needs to be reminded to pack her gum.”

You looked at her, exasperated. “I packed it! It’s in my front pocket. How many times do I have to say it?”

Olga narrowed her eyes, clearly not believing you. She unzipped the front pocket of your backpack, digging around before pulling out the pack of gum triumphantly. “Okay, good. You’re off the hook for this one.”

Alexia laughed, shaking her head. “Olga, you’re acting like she’s going off to college, not an away game.”

“Someone has to be responsible,” Olga defended. “Especially since you’re the one who taught her how to pack last minute.”

You grinned. “Yeah, Ale, you did teach me that.”

Alexia rolled her eyes, feigning offense. “I taught you how to pack efficiently, not forget half your things.”

“Sure, sure.” You gave her a cheeky grin. “Whatever you say, ‘last-minute queen.’”

Olga looked between you two, hands on her hips. “Great. Now there are two of you.”

You and Alexia shared a look before bursting into laughter.

Olga sighed, shaking her head. “Unbelievable. I’m surrounded by chaos.”

“Aw, come on, Ol,” you teased, nudging her arm. “You love us.”

She huffed, but her eyes softened. “Unfortunately, I do. Now, let’s get going before you two make us late.”

You grabbed your bag, giving her a playful salute. “Yes, ma’am!”

Alexia laughed, grabbing her suitcase. “Come on, chaos queen. Let’s go win a game.”

The three of you headed out the door, Olga grumbling about being stuck with the most forgetful people on the planet while you and Alexia shared a conspiratorial grin.

The plane had barely taken off, and you were already on your third lap around the cabin. There was just something about private planes that filled you with an uncontrollable burst of energy. Maybe it was the excitement of the upcoming game. Maybe it was the sugary snacks you’d snuck on board. Either way, you were bouncing off the walls, much to the team’s dismay.

“Estrella, sit down!” Patri shouted as you zoomed past her, nearly knocking over her water bottle.

“Can’t catch me!” you yelled back, leaping over Aitana’s outstretched legs as she tried to trip you.

Pina watched you with wide eyes, probably fearing for her life. “She’s going to bring the plane down,” she muttered to Marta, who just shook her head in resignation.

“You’d think she’s never been on a plane before,” Marta sighed, crossing her arms. “Does she have an off switch?”

“Apparently not,” Patri answered, dodging you again as you sped by, this time with a bag of chips in hand. “Estrella, those aren’t even yours!”

“Finders keepers!” you shouted, shoving another handful into your mouth as you took another lap.

Alexia’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. “Estrelleta. Sit. Down. Now.”

You skidded to a halt, nearly crashing into the seat in front of you. Turning around slowly, you met Alexia’s fierce glare. Her arms were crossed, her jaw set. She looked like she was about to lecture you into next week.

“Uh… just stretching my legs?” you tried, giving her your best innocent smile.

“Sit. Here.” She pointed to the empty seat next to her, leaving no room for argument.

You swallowed, trudging over to her like a scolded puppy. She waited until you were buckled in before giving you a look that made you shrink an inch. “You’re grounded for the rest of this flight,” she said firmly. “No more running. No more stealing snacks. And no more bothering the team.”

You opened your mouth to argue but were silenced by her raised eyebrow. “Yes, Ale,” you mumbled, slumping into your seat.

The plane hit a pocket of turbulence, jerking violently. You barely moved, used to the occasional bumps. But Alexia… she went rigid. Her hands gripped the armrests so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her face lost all color, and she looked straight ahead, eyes wide and unblinking.

You blinked at her. “Uh… Ale?”

She didn’t respond. Her breathing quickened, and she looked like she was about to pass out. The plane dipped again, and she grabbed your arm, fingers digging into your skin. Hard.

You yelped. “Ale! You’re crushing me!”

Her grip tightened. “We’re going to die,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

Your eyes widened. “What? No, we’re not! It’s just a little turbulence!”

“We’re going to crash. I knew it. I knew we should’ve taken the bus.”

“Ale, we’re over the ocean.”

She didn’t seem to hear you, her panic in full force now. Her nails dug into your arm as the plane shuddered again. You tried to pry her fingers off, but she was holding on with the strength of a hundred angry lions.

You looked around, desperate for help. Across the aisle, Lucy was watching, a smirk playing on her lips. You locked eyes with her, mouthing, Help me!

Lucy’s smirk widened. She leaned back in her seat, closed her eyes, and pretended to sleep.

Your jaw dropped at the betrayal.

You tried again to wriggle out of Alexia’s death grip, but she was unmovable, her eyes fixed on the seat in front of her like she was facing down her worst nightmare. “Ale, seriously, you’re cutting off my circulation!”

“If I die, you’re grounded forever,” she mumbled, voice trembling.

You groaned, slumping back in your seat. “If I survive this, you owe me so many snacks.”

Another bump, and Alexia’s grip tightened even more. You bit back a scream, deciding right then and there that you would never, ever run around on a plane again…. at least not when Alexia was onboard.

You walk with the team through the unfamiliar city streets, taking in the crisp air and the buzz of the city as you fall into step beside Aitana. Your hands are stuffed into your pockets, your head on a swivel as you soak in the sights. It’s a routine walk before the big Champions League match, meant to loosen up your muscles and calm any nerves.

The air is charged with anticipation, and you can’t help the bounce in your step.

Aitana’s talking about something, probably the opponent’s midfield setup or a funny meme she saw, but you’re barely listening. Something’s caught your eye. You slow your pace, the rest of the group moving ahead as you stop in front of a shop window.

Your heart skips a beat. Plushies. The cutest plushies you’ve ever seen. A row of them, perfectly lined up behind the glass, big eyes sparkling and tiny paws outstretched. There are kittens, puppies, even a little fox that looks just like the one you used to carry around as a kid.

You press your face against the glass, eyes wide. You need them. All of them.

You look over your shoulder. The team is a few paces ahead, their laughter echoing down the street.

Without a second thought, you slip into the store, the bell above the door chiming as you enter. You’re immediately overwhelmed by the sheer amount of cuteness in the small shop. Shelves upon shelves of plushies, each one more adorable than the last.

Meanwhile, Alexia’s heart is racing. She glances over her shoulder, expecting to see you trailing behind Aitana, your usual spot during these walks. But you’re not there. Her chest tightens.

“Has anyone seen Estrella?” she asks, voice sharp. Her eyes scan the group, counting heads. You’re not there.

Aitana turns, a frown forming. “She was right behind me…” Her voice trails off, eyes widening. “Oh no.”

Panic sets in fast. Irene’s head whips around, searching the street. Marta’s already jogging back the way they came, eyes darting from alleyways to storefronts.

“Estrelleta!” Alexia shouts, her voice echoing down the street. She doesn’t care about the stares from strangers or the worried looks from her teammates. Her chest is tight, her stomach churning. You’re gone.

Irene puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing tightly. “We’ll find her. She couldn’t have gone far.”

“She’s sixteen,” Alexia hisses, her voice cracking. “In a city she doesn’t know. Alone.”

The rest of the team is buzzing with nervous energy, faces pale and eyes wide. They’ve all seen you sneak off before, but never like this. Never without telling someone where you’re going.

“She was here just a minute ago,” Patri says, voice trembling. “I should’ve been paying attention.”

“We all should’ve,” Marta snaps, more at herself than anyone else. “Where the hell did she go?”

Alexia’s head is spinning. Images flash through her mind, dark alleys, strangers with bad intentions, you calling out for help and no one hearing you. Her heart races, her hands shaking as she digs out her phone. She tries calling you, but it goes straight to voicemail.

“Damn it!” She curses, panic twisting her gut. “Where are you?”

“We should split up,” Keira suggests, her voice urgent. “Cover more ground.”

“Agreed,” Irene says. “Alexia, you and Lucy check that way. We’ll go down the other street.”

Alexia’s moving before she can even think, Lucy at her side as they jog down the sidewalk, eyes scanning every corner, every doorway. She can feel her pulse in her throat, panic clawing at her insides. If something happened to you…

She shakes her head. She can’t think like that. You’re strong. Smart. But you’re also sixteen, and impulsive, and sometimes you don’t think things through.

Her chest tightens again. You’re also hers to protect.

“Estrella!” she shouts again, her voice breaking. “Where are you?”

Lucy grabs her arm, forcing her to stop. “Alexia, breathe. We’ll find her.”

Alexia presses her hands to her face, fighting back the tears threatening to spill over. She can’t fall apart. Not now. Not when you need her. Then, she hears it.

“Oi! Where’d you guys go?”

Her head snaps up. You’re standing on the corner, arms full of plushies, eyes wide in confusion.

Alexia’s legs nearly give out in relief. She rushes toward you, eyes blazing. “Where the hell were you?”

You blink, looking down at the armful of stuffed animals. “Uh… I saw these and…”

“You saw plushies?” Her voice is shaking, fury and relief battling for dominance. “You saw plushies and decided to leave without telling anyone?”

Your face falls. “I was gonna catch up—”

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Her voice cracks, and you realize just how shaken she is.

Your heart sinks. “I’m sorry, Alexia. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She exhales, her shoulders slumping. She pulls you into a tight hug, nearly crushing the plushies between you. “Don’t ever do that again,” she whispers, voice thick with emotion. “Don’t you dare scare me like that again.”

You nod against her shoulder, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I won’t. I promise.”

Irene, Marta, and the rest of the team catch up, relief washing over their faces as they see you safe and sound. Aitana looks at the plushies and bursts out laughing. “Seriously? That’s what you were doing?”

You sheepishly hold up the fox. “He looked lonely.”

Pina snorts. “You’re unbelievable.”

Alexia pulls back, wiping her eyes before anyone can see. “You’re grounded.”

Your eyes widen. “What? Why?”

“For making me worry,” she snaps, but there’s no real anger behind it. Just pure relief. “And for sneaking off like that.”

You open your mouth to protest, but her fierce glare shuts you up. “After the match, you’re grounded. No arguments.”

You sigh, but a small smile tugs at your lips. “Fine. But can I at least keep the plushies?”

Alexia looks at the fox, then at your pleading face, and finally relents. “Fine. But they’re staying in the hotel room. Got it?”

“Got it.”

She pulls you in for another hug, holding you tightly. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” she whispers.

You nod, hugging her back. “I won’t. I promise.”

As the team gathers around you, all joking and teasing, you realize just how loved you are. And as Alexia keeps you close for the rest of the walk, you understand just how much you mean to her.

[bluerosefox]

Gray and Graysons

One of the Bats has a secret. Something they never told to the others.

They were so very young but they have memories of a sibling, so small and tiny. They remember the burst of warmth they had in their heart when they held the tiny baby for just a moment.

But they weren’t allowed to keep them, their family couldn’t raise them. Money was tight, just enough for three but not for four, despite their shows always bringing in a crowd it was getting harder and harder for the world to be wowed by them in the new age and their sibling was too small and tiny and needed to be cared in a single place than for them to be on the road. Their lifestyle was not good for his tiny sibling apparently.

They had to watch as their parents gave his sibling away to people in suits, them promising to give his baby brother to a loving family when they find a ‘home’ for him. He watched his parents try to be strong only for his mother to break down once the car left down the road, his father holding her and apologizing, the rest of the circus troupe all silently coming over to give the heartbroken family condolences.

Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson had tears running down his face when he last saw his baby brother.

A brother he got to name before he had to be given away.

Daniel ‘Danny’ Grayson.

-x-x-

Dick never told the others. If anyone dug deep into his past they might find his brother’s birth records maybe, if someone got around to digitizing the paperwork for him but given the fact he was placed in the US childcare systems just a few days after his birth and the fact that Dick was still pretty young they most likely believed he didn’t remember his baby brother now. Not after so many years.

But they were wrong, Dick remembers. And he kept the secret close to his heart and memories.

And the only physical evidence he had was a single picture of him holding his brother, a smile on his tiny face towards their father who had taken the photo of them together. When he had lost his parents, lost most of the things that connected him to them, to his past in the circus that had been his whole life, had been taken from him in Gotham’s ruthless childcare system, he held on tight to the picture in secret. Hid it away from anyone trying to rip it from him, hid it from Bruce when the man took him in days later, hid it from Alfred despite how gentle the butler was towards him. He couldn’t, wouldn’t risk losing his photo at the time, he hadn’t trusted anyone and by the time he did he didn’t have the heart to reveal it.

So yes, the existence of his baby brother Danny was his most guarded and best kept secret.

So that’s why Dick, as Nightwing, nearly died from a heart attack when leaving a Justice League meeting he spotted a familiar face among one of the new engineers working in the Watchtower.

It was like seeing a young version of himself. Only, Dick could see that the young man was more than a copy of him, so much more than a clone. He held many traces of John Grayson but also had a bit more of Mary Grayson than Dick did. Small details that Dick foggely remembers taking note when he had held his baby brother.

“Hey, hurry up with that report Gray!” Shouted the head engineer from down the hall, his hand beckoning the young adult to come over.

“Coming! And boss, I told you Danny is fine!” Danny shouted back before hurriedly leaving a stunned Nightwing.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

The hero truly didn't like undercover work.

They didn't deem themselves to be very good at it, after all they were impatient. For the most part, observing someone else felt wrong, pretending to be someone they were not wasn't easy and now, they were in the busiest park of the city, watching the subject like some maniac.

Hating their boss for putting this stupid project onto them wasn't exactly helping them with anything but maybe, maybe, their frustration could make it clear how much they hated this.

However, they also knew their boss was spoiling them, the agency was spoiling them. They shouldn't have been allowed to complain.

They were the newest recruit and people seemed to adore them. The hero wasn't sent on any dangerous missions, nor was their training program particularly formidable. The hero was already used to being called the baby, even though they were way past twenty.

It wasn't annoying per se - the hero had expected to save a lot more people and be of more use, but that seemed far away from reality at the moment. They were being treated like a little sibling that needed protection.

They sighed.

"Don't you know it's rude to stare?" The warm breath against their neck nearly gave the hero a heart attack. They turned around and almost jumped out of their own skin (and over the bench).

"You-"

"Unless you're staring at me, of course." The villain seemed so horribly human in these clothes. They walked around the bench and sat down right next to the hero. One thigh on the other.

"You-" the hero repeated. They wanted to get up and arrest the villain, but their enemy was quicker. They put their arm around the hero's shoulders and pulled them close against them. Close enough for their cheeks to press against each other.

"Now, now. Not so hasty," the villain purred. The hero tried to get up again, but this time, the villain's hands dropped to their waist and pulled them back to their side. Ultimately, the hero decided to let it rest for now and find other means of escaping later.

"You've got some nerves, showing up here."

"Dunno what you're talking about, I was just taking a stroll and saw my lovely partner out here," the villain said. Their mouth curled into a smile. "Who are we stalking?"

"That's classified," the hero said. They put their hands into their pockets and let out another sigh that turned into gentle mist. The temperature had dropped overnight - a bitter reminder that winter came when it pleased.

"Oh, my. What a shame, maybe I could have helped you." They pulled the hero closer and leaned their head against the hero's. It reminded them of the shared childhood they craved to forget.

"I doubt it," the hero mumbled. "That subject is just a decoy. They gave me a random person to observe. Has barely anything to do with the case we are working on."

"Aww, are you still under puppy protection? What a waste of your talents, just imagine what the both of us could-"

"You know I am not going to join you, I've made that clear," the hero said. Their voice was sharp. "I've been waiting my entire life for this. So, what if I have to wait a little bit more? What if I am not taken seriously yet? I can endure waiting."

"Urgh, you are so lovely," the villain said. This time, they leaned their entire body against the hero's side, just like a cat that craved attention. They crossed their arms in front of their chest, hiding their own hands from the cold. "Don't let anything change the shape of your soul, got it?"

"You're awful," the hero whispered, but they let themselves relax a little. They didn't harbour any ill feelings towards anyone, not even the villain. Not anymore. They didn't want anyone dead.

They simply wanted to be seen. They wanted to be seen so badly.

"Don't get frustrated," the villain said. Their voice was calmer, maybe even more serious. "Your time will come. Good people always succeed. And you are inherently good."

"What about you?" The villain was still leaning against them. They probably truly looked like two lovers.

"Ahh, you know I don't like all those rules," the villain said. "Rules and regulations are so restrictive. I could never be comfortable with following orders. I have my own methods. My own goals."

They looked at each other. Both of them were older now, but it felt like they were kids again. Kids who had chosen different paths, yet they were irrevocably intertwined. The hero's cheeks warmed up.

"Can't wait to really fight against you," the villain said. "Motivated heroes are so difficult to chew up."

They turned and traced the hero's bottom lip with their thumb.

"Right?"

The hero's eyes widened, but the villain stood up quickly, stretching, as if nothing had happened.

"Anyway, enjoy those rookie days." They winked. "You need to prepare for our fights after all."

And just as fast as they had appeared, they disappeared into the park again.

[vrystalius]

The demon that stole my heart

Ever since you finally met the demon that places a stolen gift on your nightstand, you began to build a relationship with the demon you found out was named Gyutaro.

Pairing: stalker!Gyutaro x oiran!fem!reader

Here’s part 1, The demon that steals jewerly for me.

(Implied sexual assault from clients)

The demon kept visiting you every night, despite being discovered by you, and you are glad, incredibly so. Although he may look sick, starved, disgusting even, the demon, whose name you found out to be Gyutaro, made you feel safe. You heard tales from your Lady and the other oirans of your establishments about how more and more beautiful women suddenly either disappear or end their lives seemingly out of nowhere.

You listened the rumours about these creatures, how they seemingly only pick the most beautiful, how they stalk them before breaking into their bedroom while they’re asleep to devour them, how they walk on the rooftops to find their next victim… You never believed those things. Besides, you had real threats to worry about; not getting paid enough, being pretty enough to keep your job and drunken men to fend off that try to take advantage of you.

The demon you met was nothing like the descriptions you heard. Gyutaro is shy, kind, soft. He is incredibly insecure about himself, about how he acts around you and how he looks. Your visitor knows that he is beautiful, quite the opposite, but in your eyes you strongly believe that he is beautiful. Not only visually, but also the way he acts. You can’t help but smile everytime he hesitantly hands you over a small pouch filled another treasure he had prepared for you, his fingers trembling and eyes nervously watching for your reaction. Seeing a smile spread on your face makes him feel so incredibly happy and grateful being able to even exist within your vicinity.

In Gyutaro’s eyes, you are a goddess. A blessing from the heavens, something he desperately needs to hide from his sister, or else she might get the idea of devouring you. He could not let that happen, ever. You are too pure for this like of work and it infuriates him everytime when he watches another costumer enter your bedroom, while he is forced to sit on top of a roof, silently listening and making sure that you are safe and not attacked in any way. Gyutaro scratches, rips and tears his skin apart in jealousy the whole time. You should not be defiled like this, you’re pure, ethereal and the embodiment of beauty. You don’t deserve to be with a demon like him, but even less to be used by these men.

Gyutaro was curled up into a ball, nuzzling his head against your thigh while you held him. Your hand was slowly brushing through his way, separating matted strands while he was relaxing under your touch, melting by your affection. You were still in your “work clothes”, a kimono in a soft colour with golden accents and seams. He felt how expensive it must’ve been by the feeling against his cheeks alone. He never wanted to approach or touch you in fear of staining you in some way with his aura alone, but after touching your palm for the first time, Gyutaro instantly got addicted to the forbidden fruit.

“Gyu, the sun will be up soon.”

The demon cuddling onto you groaned in annoyance, opening his eyes slowly to glance up at you. His lips were formed into a large pout.

“C-Can I stay? In yo-your closet?”

You were slightly taken back by his request and gave him a small smile. You placed a gentle kiss on his nose, right onto his black marks. You know that your demon is protective of you, perhaps a little too much, but hiding in your closet while you serve clients might be a little too much. Besides, he’ll probably wont be able to bear listening to you and either scratch all his skin open, nearly skinning himself alive, or murder your client on the spot. You can’t let that happen, despite how much you hate being in the line of your work.

“No, people will notice. Besides, you won’t fit in it… you’re too large.”

Gyutaro’s pout grew, almost looking like an upset child. His eyes avoided yours while your hand brushed against his cheek, nuzzling against your warm skin, his lips placing light kisses all over before savouring everything about you for one last time. His eyes glossed over your figure, from your legs to your warmth thighs, perfect stomach, soft chest and the most beautiful face. Suddenly, Gyutaro gently bit down onto your finger, nibbling a little.

“C-Can I come by tonight a-again, pretty?”

His mouth was muffled by his teeth nibbling around your delicate fingers, placing sloppy kisses all over your hand.

“Yes, please. I’d love to.”

Gyutaro nervously smiled softly, finally letting go of you to move towards your window, his usual route of escape.

“I-I love you.”

You could barely hear him say those words, but they were there. Your whole face brightened up and a blush tainted your cheeks while watching him slowly open your window, avoiding looking at you.

“I love you too, Gyu.”

“M-Mhh.”

He whimpered quietly, hurriedly jumping away quickly to both escape the rising sun and to not allow you to see his blushing face.

💠

@starvedluci , I saw you getting excited about Gyutaro XD I hope it’s okay I’m tagging you like this, it just made me laugh out loud during lunch 😅

I need some kind of merch from him. I’m not sure if there are any plushies but I have seen some figures. I was at a convention this august where I saw a decently priced figure of him and one of Gyutaro + Daki in the hay thingie together (I hope you know what I mean) but I decided to get an Akaza one instead :,)

Anways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3 I am forever grateful for all your comments, reblogs and support. Thank you!

Here’s the The demon that.. Masterlist.

[nebulablakemurphy]

The Winner Takes It All (Part 2)

Summary: Moves and Countermoves AU in which the rebellion never happened and Haymitch is now mentoring his own child for the games.

Warning: 18+ ONLY MDNI Depictions of forced prostitution, a pregnancy resulting from it, and alcohol/drug addiction.

Part 1

“We need a minute.” Y/N tells Everest and Whimsy, once they’ve boarded the train.

Haymitch storms off in the opposite direction, his eyes cast downwards, unable to bear the sight of his son…his tribute.

Effie isn’t sure what to do either, excusing herself to her room.

Y/N shifts between feet, “make yourselves comfortable, ok? There’s plenty of food.” She offers, motioning toward the arrangement on the dining table. “Eat, drink-”

Everest sighs, “you can go, Mom. We’ve got it.”

Whimsy peeks up at her mentor, from the plush velveteen chair.

“Everything’s going to be ok.” Y/N insists, promptly exiting the train car to find her husband.

“You should eat.” Everest tells Whimsy, after the door closes.

“I’m not hungry.” The girl crosses both arms over her chest.

“It’s important to stay healthy for the games.”

“Why do you care? You’re just gonna kill me anyway.”

“I am not going to kill you.” Everest huffs, taking the seat beside her.

“Yet.” Whimsy bites out. “You’re not going to kill me yet.”

“Nobody really knows this, but I was named after the last word in a sentence my mom’s district partner couldn’t finish.”

“W-why are you telling me then?” Whimsy cries. It doesn’t matter, she’ll be gone soon.

“Because you’re my partner and that means something.” Everest insists, “I don’t want you to die and neither do my parents.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Look, giving you your best shot is a severe conflict of interest for them. But my parents are good people, you can trust them. District 12 tributes aren’t known for having a high success rate, but they were able to get Katniss out alive.”

“Even if you’re right about your parents, no one stands a chance against the sponsors you’ll be able to pull. The whole thing is rigged.” Whimsy whispers.

Everest leans toward her, “I think so too. But just because a game is rigged doesn’t mean you can’t win. All you have to do is understand what rules they’re playing by.”

“And what rules are these?”

“No holds barred. The winner takes it all.”

————————————————————————

“Haymitch,” Y/N finds her husband, double fisted in the bar car.

“Hi, angel.” He drawls, “shouldn’t you be fingering a tablet by now?”

“I need you.”

“I’m here.” Haymitch sets the alcohol down, closing the distance between them. “But there’s no way I’m getting through this sober.” He cups her face in his hands, “I need to think. Figure out what we can do.”

Y/N leans into his palm, nodding as she fights back tears.

“Snow’s expecting us to be beside ourselves, irrational. We can use that to our advantage.”

“What about Whimsy?” Y/N wonders. “We can’t sentence that girl to death.”

“You also can’t give her a fair shake.” A voice interrupts them.

Y/N startles, Haymitch pulling her tightly to his chest. Prepared to use his body to shield her own.

“Jesus, sweetheart. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Katniss. What are you doing here?” She hasn’t been to the Capitol with them in years. Rarely makes it beyond her front door without crippling anxiety.

“You can’t mentor that girl and you shouldn’t have to. I’m gonna do it.” Katniss lifts a shoulder, handing an open bottle of blue spirits to Haymitch. “This one’s all yours.”

“Thanks,” Haymitch takes a swig.

“Tastes like shit, by the way.” Katniss cracks a grin as she exits the bar car.

————————————————————————

Everest hasn’t slept in his parent’s room for years, so when he wakes to find them curled up on the floor of his room, he’s rightfully surprised.

He sighs, sitting up to stretch, still in his father’s suit from the day before. Oh, that’s right; this isn’t his room. “Mom,” he yawns. “Dad?”

Y/N stirs, in her husband’s arms. Focusing her puffy eyes on her son.

She’s been crying, Everest realizes. Probably most of the night.

“Are you ok, honey?” She asks, immediately.

“I’m fine,” Everest assures her.

“Haymitch,” Y/N jostles him.

“Hmm?”

“Everest’s awake.”

He grumbles out a string of profanities as he drags himself upright. “How are you?”

“M’fine.” Everest repeats, “you didn’t have to sleep on the floor.”

“We wanted to stay close incase you needed us.”

This is his parent’s worst nightmare. The one they’ve been preparing him for since his eleventh birthday. One they will never wake from. “We should probably head over for breakfast. We’ll be in the Capitol soon.” He knows this trek well enough.

By the time they reach the breakfast spread, Katniss and Whimsy are already eating. Effie is powdering her face in the corner.

“Morning.” Katniss greets them, “you look well rested.”

“Slept like crap, actually.” Haymitch informs her, “woke up with a kink in my neck.” He plops down in the nearest chair.

“Yeah, I meant Everest. You both look like hell.”

“Manners.” Effie scolds her.

Y/N forces a smile as she sits, “thanks, Katniss.”

“You should have a drink.” Katniss suggests.

“I’m fine.” Y/N sniffs, “just need a little coffee.”

“Sure.” Katniss isn’t convinced.

“We should talk about what to expect once we arrive in the Capitol.” Haymitch is quick to change the subject.

Everest is seated between his parents, picking at his helping of eggs.

“When the train stops, peacekeepers will come in and escort you to the tribute center. From there you’ll be separated into rooms for your prep teams. They’ll hose you down and get you ready for your stylists. After the tribute parade, we’ll meet up backstage and go from there.”

“Then we’ll start discussing strategy for the games?” Whimsy suggests, flicking through slides on the tablet before her.

Katniss swipes the presentation closed, locking the tablet screen and all but tossing it to the ground.

Haymitch bites back a grin. He’s always hated those damn things.

Y/N scowls at them, collecting the device. “Some tributes find it helpful to look over the strategies this way and make their own notes.”

Everest hasn’t taken the time to look over his own yet. But he always enjoyed his mother’s notes, the way they felt like an extension of her. When he was growing up and old enough to stay home with Aunt Madge, while his parents mentored the games; Y/N would leave him his own slideshow. Pictures of them as a family with hearts around him, or little blue stars, she’d drawn with her stylist. His sisters are probably flipping through their own shows right about now.

“Can I see?” Everest holds out a hand.

Y/N allows him to take it from her.

These images are very different than the ones he grew up with, no hearts. Lots of stars though and annotations. It must take hours to update each year.

The computer generated bodies move upon demand, to demonstrate each technique from every angle. This is his mother’s love language, one other tributes couldn’t understand.

“This is really helpful, Mom. Thank you.”

Y/N flounders, only one other person appreciated this particular gift and he is long dead.

Katniss pushes away from the table, without a word.

Peeta Mellark left a gaping hole in each of them, although Katniss would never admit that.

The rest of their morning is spent in quiet solitude. Until the telltale hum of the train engine comes to an end. They’ve reached their destination.

As promised, peacekeepers do come for Whimsy and Everest.

Before his parents disappear completely from view, he watches them depart the train, hands entwined. Haymitch presses a single kiss to Y/N’s knuckles before they set off in opposite directions.

————————————————————————

Y/N knows the house she’s headed for, she could find it in her sleep. Tungsten Pruit took a liking to her back before he could have her. Sponsoring her tributes year after year, buying her tapes.

The first night Y/N was offered up individually, Tungsten paid a cool million for her. But he’s never hurt her, and for that reason alone, a night with him is preferable to some of the Capitol’s more…colorful patrons.

Y/N knocks once before he answers.

“You’re expensive tonight, Little Minx.”

“More or less than a million?”

“More.” He swings the door open wide for her. “Come in.”

“Is this new?” She points to the settee.

The man wraps his arms around her waist. “It is.”

“I like it.” She allows him to sway her slightly, from side to side.

“About your son…”

“Mhm?”

“I’d like to sponsor him.” Tungsten’s lips brush against her jugular.

“That’s very kind of you.” She swallows down the bile creeping up her throat.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?”

“In my room.” Up the stairs, down the hall, last door on the right. Illuminated by candle light.

Finnick Odair.

————————————————————————

Everest hears the steady spray of water and scrub brushes. Cleaning the tributes behind the curtains beside him, as he sits untouched; twiddling his thumbs.

Eventually a prep team joins him. Standing nervously, shoulder to shoulder, at the makeshift room’s entrance.

“Uh, hi.” Everest waves, “I’m Everest. You’re here to get me ready for the parade?”

The smallest of the three, a girl with long magenta hair, nods.

“Alright, well here I am.” Everest lies back on the cool, metal table, covered by nothing more than the paper gown they’d left out for him.

Anytime he moves they jump, gasping as they remove their hands.

“Sorry,” Everest clears his throat, “tickles.”

“Are you uncomfortable?” The older woman asks, “we’re under strict instruction to make sure you are safe and comfortable at all times.”

“I’m fine.” Everest blinks up at the ceiling, “just treat me like you would any other tribute.”

No one utters a word, until Vanity burst in some time later.

“Where is he? Where’s my boy? Is he ready for me?”

“Vanity?” Everest narrows his eyes at her. “You’re not a stylist for the games anymore?”

“That’s because you weren’t in the games.” She rolls her eyes, their natural color eclipsed by purple contacts. “I’ve styled you from the day you were born, you think I’m going to stop now?”

Everest smiles, with a shake of his head. “Of course not.”

————————————————————————

Y/N and Finnick are left alone to redress.

“See yourselves out once you’re decent.” Tungsten shrugs on a pale yellow dressing gown before vacating the room. Closing the door behind him.

“I’m so sorry about Everest.” Finnick murmurs, reaching for his bottoms and pulling them up over his hips.

“Me too.” Y/N steps into her dress, zipping it closed against her side.

“Beetee has control of the comm system-”

“I can’t listen to any more of Plutarch’s planning and plotting.”

Finnick hushes her. “It’s not just Plutarch.”

“Was my son getting reaped part of his ‘plan?’”

“This wasn’t a part of anyone’s plan.” He continues buttoning his shirt.

Y/N is silent, buckling the strap of her heels.

“I saw Honey at the reaping.”

She blinks at him, helplessly.

“She’s beautiful.”

“I know.”

“What’s she like?” Finnick hasn’t seen the little girl in person since she was four. The age when Y/N and Haymitch stop bringing their children along to mentor the games. He only gets to see Capitol coverage, a picture or two a year, if he’s lucky.

“Kind and thoughtful and funny.” Like her other children, “too good for this world.”

Finnick’s lips quirk upward, into a lopsided grin. “Tell her Finnick says hi.”

“I will.” Y/N doesn’t want to talk about it anymore “How’s Annie?”

The love of Finnick’s life never blamed Y/N for anything. Still watching a little girl grow up, with Finnick’s smile and another woman’s eyes isn’t easy on her. “She’s alright.”

“And Mags?”

“She’s as good as she’s gonna be, honey.”

“Do you know who has Haymitch?” How bad is it?

“Synchrony.” Finnick says. “She’s harmless, I’ve seen her a few times. She probably wanted both of you, but no one can afford you tonight.”

“How much?” For the star-crossed lovers of District 12?

“Starts with a b, ends with an illion.”

“A billion dollars?” Y/N scoffs.

“Snow knew you’d want to be together.”

How long is he gonna punish me for what I did when I was fifteen?

“I got you something.” Finnick reaches into his back pocket, producing a bottle of pills. “They’re new. I know you don’t like to take anything, but these work well. Better than the others, you can still think clearly it just suppresses everything else.”

“Did you take one?”

“No.” He shakes his head, “I wasn’t going to take one if you couldn’t.”

He wouldn’t leave her in that room to be flayed open with no anesthetic as he watched, perfect numb. He learned years ago to separate himself from his body.

Having only ever been with Haymitch, who she outright adored, it wasn’t a skill Y/N had. So Finnick forced himself to remain as present as she was. Even though she never asked him to.

Together they created life, one he couldn’t be a part of. Sharing a love for each other that doesn’t belong. Sinful and messy. Bleeding into everything they touch.

The agent in charge of their audio feed removes his headset. Disposing of the evidence and moving leisurely through the mansion halls to the presidential office.

Snow looks up at him and curtly excuses his advisors. “Clear the room.”

They do as they’re told, latching the white double doors securely behind them.

The president arches a brow, expectantly.

“The feed from the Odair, Abernathy room was disposed of, Mr. President.” Agent Barton Clares reports. “I know you’ve asked to hear it before hand, but I-”

“I trust your judgment, Agent Clares. That’s why I’ve assigned you to this task. You understand the delicate nature of the situation and what would happen if these…details were released to the public.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Their images would be shattered and from there it would be their word against mine. People would die, the system would collapse.”

Barton nods.

“Was there any other information passed between them?”

“They were strictly discussing the child, Mr. President.” He lies.

“Very well. Were you able to get more information from the Nicholo girl?”

Cashmere. “No.”

“I’ll arrange for you to see her tonight then.” President Snow decides, with a sickening smile. “Do try harder.”

————————————————————————

Everest doesn’t see Whimsy again until they are mounting up for the parade.

His suit will send up sparks similar to a stick of dynamite. Her dress is a canary yellow silk design, which spreads like wings as she opens her arms.

“Woah.”

“There’s already been a girl and boy on fire.” Cinna says. “But that doesn’t mean you have to dress as coal miners. Let’s make them remember you.” He winks at Whimsy.

“You’re sure to have all eyes on you.” Vanity adds. “Make us proud.”

Everest nods, stepping up onto the carriage and squaring his shoulders. He notices Whimsy nervously fidgeting with her gown. “If you need more room for the wings, you can come farther this way.”

She nods, “thank you.”

The horses set off down the runway at a steady pace. District by district, the chariots disappear through the archway and into view of the audience.

Whimsy looks to Everest, once they are visible to the people, “now?”

“You first.” She deserves a moment to win them over.

She spreads her arms, revealing the unique design of her dress and the wings they never saw coming. More applause, whistling, white roses falling from the stands.

Everest can’t find his parents amongst them, he tries one last time before hitting the button which ignites his suit. The material sparks, like the lighted end of a burning blasting rope and the audience loses their minds.

Oh, to be Everest Abernathy.

————————————————————————

The elevator doors open once they reach the twelfth floor. Revealing the penthouse living quarters of the tribute center. It’s more lavish than Everest remembers from when he was small. With crystal chandeliers, a sizable dining table, sitting room and multiple projection screens.

“Woah,” Whimsy marvels, gazing up at the vaulted ceiling.

Katniss commandeers the room nearest the entrance. Locking the door behind her.

“Why don’t you both get settled in? Get some of that make up off before dinner.” Haymitch suggests, rubbing circles into Y/N’s back as she leans into him.

Whimsy takes the room across from Katniss and makes herself comfortable. Leaving only Everest and his parents.

“Where were you while I was getting ready for the parade?”

“Out scouting potential sponsors.”

“There’s a line out the door to sponsor me.” Everest narrows his eyes, “if I’m old enough to fight to the death, I’m old enough to know what’s going on here.”

Haymitch sighs, “leave it alone, Everest.”

The boy asks again. “Where did you go?”

“There are certain responsibilities we have while here mentoring.” Y/N explains.

“That’s bullshit!”

Haymitch holds up a hand. “It’s been a long day, we could all use a good night’s rest.”

“Is that why Honey-”

“Keep your voice down.” Haymitch seethes. “You’re allowed to be angry. Hold onto that, let it drive you. But this is bigger than any of us. We do what we have to, to keep our family safe. It’s not your burden to bear.”

“I just want to help you.” Everest murmurs.

“You can help us by staying alive. That is your only job. Do you understand?” Haymitch is cracking under the pressure, beneath the unimaginable weight of it.

“Yes,” Everest nods.

“How long have you known about Honey?” Y/N wonders.

“I don’t really know anything,” Everest purses his lips.

“If anyone found out…” about Honey, “it would come back to bite all of us.”

“I wasn’t going to tell anyone, Mom.” Everest breathes, “I just want it to make sense.”

“The things we have done will never make sense.” Y/N murmurs, “but that’s for us to live with. Not you.”

He would argue more, under normal circumstances. But right now, he can’t bear the thought of causing her anymore pain. “Ok.”

————————————————————————

What his father said is true, about the anger as fuel thing. If it weren’t for the proverbial guillotine hanging over his family’s head, Everest would be storming Snow’s mansion himself.

He loses himself in the sparring, nearly injuring the career boy from district 1. Cashmere’s tribute. “Are you ok?” Everest attempts to help him to his feet.

“I don’t think you should be out on the mat.” The boy slaps his hand away. “It’s bad enough that you’ve got immunity, you don’t need maim us before hand.”

“I wasn’t trying to maim you and I don’t-” the boy is gone before Everest can finish, “have immunity.”

Whimsy approaches her partner, carefully. “Do you have a weapon of choice? Or do you intend to kill with your bare hands?”

Everest shakes his head to clear it. “My dad said we shouldn’t demonstrate our skills in front of the other tributes.”

“Well Katniss said that’s a crock of shit so…”

Everest chuckles, “of course she did.”

“I don’t think it really matters what you do or don’t do at this point, there’s a target on your back.”

“You’re probably right.” He admits, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I can wield and throw knives, I’m pretty good with a sword or an axe. Not great with a bow, but I can shoot.”

“Very victor’s kid of you.” Whimsy reaches for the nearby sickle. “Do you know how to use this pointy hook thing?”

“No,” Everest laughs. “Do you?”

————————————————————————

Despite her initial hesitation, after three days of training. Whimsy receives a solid seven at her assessment.

“Good job.” The occupants of District 12’s sitting room rejoice, huddled together on the lavish couch.

“Told you.” Everest bumps her shoulder with his own.

“And lastly, Everest Abernathy, from District 12. With a score of…” Caesar pauses for effect. “Twelve.”

“Twelve?” Whimsy turns to him. “No one gets a twelve! Not even the careers.”

“Good thing we’re allies, right?”

Y/N leans closer to Haymitch, whispering to him, frantically. He listens, with a blank expression, all the blood having drained from his face. Running his hand up and down his wife’s back, over and over again, too hard and fast to be comforting.

Everest feels the erratic movement of the cushion beside him before he sees it. “Dad?” He places a hand over his father’s to still it.

“Yeah?”

“Are you ok?”

Haymitch forces a smile, “of course. We should celebrate.”

————————————————————————

“Now Everest, you know I have to ask. How does it feel to receive the highest assessment score ever given to a tribute?”

“Good, I guess.”

“You guess,” Caesar laughs. “So funny, our boy.”

The crowd joins in.

“How did you do it? Have you been training? Planning to volunteer perhaps?”

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, Caesar, but I was raised by Y/N and Haymitch Abernathy.”

More cackling.

“Was I planning to volunteer? No. But am I prepared for this? Yes.”

“Some might argue that victory is in your blood.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

“You’ve been on this stage since you were in diapers.” Caesar paints on a somber expression. Or perhaps it is a true representation of his grief. “It seems odd to say goodbye without knowing if we’ll see each other again.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Everest lays it on thick.

Caesar nods, as tears roll onto his cheeks.

“It was really nice knowing you, Caesar.” Everest takes the man’s hand. “It was nice knowing all of you.”

The crowd begins a tearful round of applause.

“It was nice knowing you too.” Caesar places his free hand over his heart, to still it. “Let’s hear it, one last time, for Everest Abernathy!”

Everyone in attendance is on their feet. A standing ovation.

Everest squints into the audience, against the harsh stage lights and finds his parents among them. Clapping for him. Proud of him. Scared for him.

When it is over, he makes a beeline for them backstage, flying into their arms.

“We’re so proud of you, baby.” Y/N runs a hand over his hair.

“That was perfect.”

————————————————————————

Everest’s last night before the games is spent with his parents hovering over him. “I’m going to bed.”

“Everest, wait.” Y/N stops him.

“Yeah?”

“Remember what we said about the arena. Once you’re inside, there isn’t much we can do besides send gifts from sponsors.“

“I know, Dad. We’ve been over this like ten times.” Everest smiles, “I got it.”

“A-alright.” Haymitch stammers.

“I’m gonna fight like hell, ok?” Everest promises, looking between his mother and father. “I’m going to do everything I can to come home to you, but if I can’t…. I need you to know that isn’t your fault.”

Y/N stares at her son with glossy eyes. How did we get here, my sweet boy? How did this happen?

“You are the best parents any kid could ask for. You loved me and protected me and taught me how to be a good person. That’s a rare thing in this world.” Everest reminds them. “I love you so much.”

“We love you more.”

“I know! I know how much you love me. I know how much you tried to prevent this from happening. I know how hard you’re fighting for me still. I saw it all. I know.” Everest’s voice cracks, “I’m your son. Nobody can take that away from you, ever. You’re my mom and dad. Nothing will change that.” Not life or death, or anything in between.

Everest is sandwiched between them again; and he welcomes it.

“I have something for you.” Haymitch says, after a long moment. Producing a token for his son. One that had once been his.

Everest stares down at the flint striker, secured on a yellow metal chain which is surely part of his mother’s token. Pieces of them together. Just like him.

————————————————————————

At some point the Abernathys must’ve fallen asleep on the sitting room sectional. Everest wakes long before dawn to a clattering near the bar cart.

“Shit.”

“Katniss?” Everest rubs at his eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was out here. Go back to sleep.”

“Don’t think I can now.” He admits, joining her at the opposite corner of the room.

Katniss stares down at the bottle in her hand, “your mom probably has something to help with that.”

“My mom has something to help with everything.” Everest chuckles.

“She’s been a wreck, your dad too.”

“I figured.” He blanches, “take care of them for me, will you? No matter what happens in the arena… knowing they have you helps.”

“Of course.” Katniss agrees, “but you’re not dying in that arena.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you and what you’re capable of. You’re going to finish what your parents started. What I failed to do.” Katniss tells him. “You’re going to win the games.”

“No one ever wins the games.” His father taught him that.

“You will. You have to.” The girl on fire insists, with embers burning in her eyes. “This is our last chance. Our last hope…is you.”

Everest sucks in a breath.

“When you hear that cannon tomorrow, run as fast as you can. Don’t be a hero. Take Whimsy with you, if you can. You haven’t made any other alliances, which I think is smart. It’ll be easier to do what you have to that way. You aren’t there to save them. You can’t. You’ll die trying.”

Everest nods.

“Focus on your surroundings. Find water, food and high ground.”

“I got that part.”

“Good, go get some more sleep. You’ll need it.” Katniss squeezes his shoulder, leaving him to it.

Part 3

Series Taglist: @lovely-waves @pookiei-bookie @derersketnoget @getawaycarsficrecs

[shintaru]

Tell me all the time not to worry and think of all the time that I'll have with you

m.list ♡ taglist ♡ inspired by

Vinny ~ @wthphe1n @prepchii

You were feeling down lately and couldn’t get yourself to do anything. Life was becoming too hard for you to handle in your current state. You were so exhausted, so worn out from trying so hard but barely getting by. It would be different if you got a break or if the cycle would end but it never does. You had gone on a walk to clear your head before you were ready to take on life’s hardships again. You lead yourself to Vinny’s without realizing his place felt like another home to you.

His mom was so kind and welcoming and she adored you and all his friends. When you walked in his mother greeted you and told you to tell Vinny when he arrived that she headed out to meet Jay Jo’s mother. You gave her the promise that you’d let Vinny know when he returns. You sit down to play with Jack, you bring him a toy, you always keep a treat or toy on you in case Vinny needs one for Jack. Sometimes Vinny lets you keep Jack for a bit when he knows he’ll be really busy and when you don’t want to be alone.

You sit on the floor and play with Jack rubbing behind his ears until you hear him purr. He swayed his tail back and forth slowly in delight as you continued rubbing his favorite spot. “You’re so cute” you say to him in a sweet tone. You hear the front door unlocking, alerting you Vinny has returned. Jack sprints over to Vinny’s direction and Vinny bends down to scoop him up and pet him. “Your mom let me in, she told me to tell you she is with Jay Jo’s mom” you say. “Why did you come over?” He asks.

“I had a toy for Jack and whenever I find myself feeling alone I somehow always end up here” you say honestly. You take it by his expression that he understands what you mean since he and Yumi broke up. He has opened up a little to you about how he had been feeling and you’ve opened up to him about some personal things in your life that you needed off your chest. “Do you need to talk?” He asks you to shake your head “No I just didn’t want to be alone today” you reply.

He doesn’t pry any further; he respects your decision to withhold from saying what’s weighing on your heart. “Well you’re in luck” he says turning to you with a funny look on his face “because I just came from the store and I got not one but two packs of ramen” he says holding the two of them up. “Yay I love when you make ramen” you say excitedly. He turns on the stove allowing the water to boil. He sits at the table and you both catch up until the ramen is ready to be cooked.

He is standing in the kitchen adding the ramen into the pot and adding the necessary ingredients. He stirs it until it’s fully cooked and ready to eat. You can smell the ramen from where you’re sitting making your stomach grumble. He puts the ramen in two bowls and walks over to the table handing you a set of chopsticks. You thank him and take the chopsticks and begin eating the ramen. “Vinny, your ramen is the best, food tastes so much better here” you say. “It’s just ramen…” he says blushing, making you laugh.

He still gets easily flustered when someone compliments him. It’s interesting to you he has this bad boy vibe he use to beat people up now he’s on the infamous sabbath crews team. He’s working with Juwon Ryu so yet deep down he’s very caring. You hate how so many judge him for his looks he’s the least judgmental and most understanding and considerate person you’ve ever met. Now he does have a temper but you don’t judge him. People are constantly in his case because he looks different. You'd have a bad temper too if that happened to you.

You both finish your ramen and Vinny tells you that you can spend the night. He nearly killed you for using his shower and borrowing his clothes. Literally you thought he’d have a heart attack when you walked into the bathroom and turned the shower on and came back out with his shirt on. You didn’t see the big deal, it's just a shower… but he was ignoring you like you insulted him or something. You decided not to worry about it and you slowly fell asleep after sliding under the covers.

Extra dedications @dzvelinaskebiyars @bfwooin @zyart-jpg @sanzuslutttt @sylith I hope it’s ok to tag everyone if you’re not ok with the tag please lmk 🩶🥹🦢

[chanelgrll]

Thank you for answering my question about the boundaries!! I don’t think this is crossing any that you listed, but ofc feel free to just ignore if this isn’t something you would be interested in writing 💕

Could you write Ronin and Reader who is squeamish/scares easily having a horror movie date?? I personally think he would eat it up, especially if Reader isn’t actually phased by him being a real life serial killer, but falls for every cheap movie scare lol.

HCs or FF format, up to you. Thank you!

A/N: ofc!!! also sorry guys for the slow pace unis been kicking my ass </3 I'll be uploading more once I'm done the next wave of exams BUTTTT here's a fic of this lovely ask

Eek a rat!!

You weren’t scared of Ronin.

Not when you saw the crowbar tucked into his case, or the stains of blood splattered on his skin. Not even when you opened your freezer once and saw something inside you absolutely should have screamed over, but just quietly shut the door again and made a mental note to stop storing your ice cream in there.

No. You didn’t flinch around the real stuff. But jump scares? Something with dramatic violin stings and predictable jump scares and actors making impossibly bad decisions in the dark? You turned into a human heart attack. Which is exactly why Ronin looked like he’d just been handed Christmas on a bloodstained silver platter when you suggested a horror movie night (It was Terrifier 3.)

“You sure about this?” he asked, already queuing up the the tape. You gave him a half-hearted shrug, trying to act casual despite the tight grip you already had on the throw blanket.

“Yeah, I mean—it’s fake. I can handle fake.”

Ronin snorted. “Oh really, must I recall how loud you screamed the last time we went to watch something, baby?”

“That was a very loud clown,” you muttered.

He leaned over, brushing his lips against your temple. “Mmhm. We’ll see.”

Fifteen minutes in, your legs were pulled up to your chest, blanket cocooned around you like a human burrito. Ronin hadn’t even blinked. “Don’t go in there, don’t go in there, don’t—idiot!” you hissed at the screen.

Ronin looked delighted. “You know it’s her house, right?”

“She saw the door open by itself, and she’s going down the stairs in socks. This woman has a death wish.”

“Technically I do that all the time.”

You turned to look at him with wide eyes. “Yeah, and I yell at you too.”

He raised his brows, mock-surprised. “Oh, my bad. Next time I’ll wait for permission before chasing someone into a basement.”

You elbowed him weakly, and he caught your arm, grinning as he dragged you into his lap like it was the most casual thing in the world. “Don’t worry,” he said, chin on your shoulder. “If anyone breaks in, I’ll go check the noise. Real slow. Shirtless. With no weapon.”

“Ronin.”

“What?”

You stared. “You’re so stupid"

The next jump scare hit while you were mid-sip of your drink, and you nearly launched the can across the room. Ronin actually paused the movie, laughing so hard he nearly fell backward off the couch.

“I hate you,” you muttered, face flushed.

“You love me,” he corrected, tugging you back against him like a smug little furnace.

Your heart was still hammering. “Why do people even watch these? You’re not even scared! You haven’t blinked in, like, twenty minutes!”

“Because I think it’s hilarious,” he said, nosing into your neck. “Also you get very clingy when you're scared. And I like it.”

You smacked his thigh. “You’re awful.”

He beamed. “I know.”

Eventually, the movie got dumber. The characters started splitting up. The acting got worse. You even started laughing a little, burying your face into Ronin’s hoodie every time the villain popped out in bad prosthetics or the fake blood looked like cherry syrup.

“You’re doing better,” Ronin murmured against your hair.

“Mm,” you mumbled. “Not so bad when I’ve got a real killer next to me.”

His hand stilled on your hip. “You say that like it’s comforting.”

You tilted your head, lips brushing his jaw. “It is".

He looked down at you and you ruffled his hair before turning back to the screen. But you shrieked like a banshee when a rat jumped out onscreen, and he lost it all over again. “Alright,” he said later, shutting off the TV and rubbing his eyes from laughing. “That’s enough emotional trauma for one night.”

You sagged against his chest. “I have never hated you more.”

“You say that,” he said, trailing his fingers up your arm, “but your heartbeat says otherwise.”

You groaned. “Ronin, if you’re about to try to make being scared hot—”

“Try?” he echoed, all mock offense. “Baby, I succeed.” You smacked him with a throw pillow and stayed curled up in his lap for another two hours anyway.

He grinned like it was love.

[bluethehuntress]

I’m a console player, so I can’t mod but hear me out:

The Crow casual wear in red silk/brown leather. Especially if the shirt is burgundy.

The thought inspired me enough to write a bit featuring my Rook (they’re mostly vague, though)

Rook/Lucanis

Except it’s just Lucanis starting to feel things lmao

Wine-Red Silk

Lucanis hates Teia.

Loathes is probably a better word.

And he has to direct it at Teia because he couldn’t be mad at Rook. Not when they’re practically beaming at the compliments of the group.

“Teia took my measurements a while ago. After the dragon attacks, she felt like she owed me something and asked if she could get me anything.” They shift some. “I asked for some clothes, ‘cus I lost most of what I had, and she practically gave me a wardrobe.”

And Teia - as a Crow and as an Antivan - would, of course, gift them with some sort of luxury. (Lucanis is pretty sure the woman doesn’t feel like it’s enough. However, as he’s come to know Rook, he knows they believe it to be too much.) Not only that, instead of the soft, cool violet or blue most Crows would wear, she’d given them red. The color of their home, and their people, the Shadows.

Typically, they wear the few sets of sleep clothes around the Lighthouse, switching between their gifted ones and the ones they’d kept.

Which brings him back to his current loathing.

Rook isn’t in their usual comfortable clothing. Instead, they’re in a wine-red silk button up with only half the buttons done and the sleeves rolled to their elbows. It’s perfectly fitted, defining the strength in their shoulders and hugging nearly point of them. The dark, gleaming silk also seems to brighten the color of their paint and tattoos, the rose-colored snake on their left forearm vibrant in comparison. The shirt is complimented with leather trousers only a shade darker than their own skin.

So Lucanis stands, with his mouth dry, his face warm, and his heart so loud in his ears that he can’t even hear what everyone else on the library is saying. Stands seething, because of course Teia’s expertise would make them look incredible in something so simple. ‘Maker, do they look good in red.’ And because part of him is envious he didn’t think to do that before they were prompted by her.

Rook’s close by, maybe two steps away, their attention focused more on the whole group than any one person. When their hand comes up to adjust their collar on the left side, he catches a glimpse of another tattoo in the same red as the other. The thought of pushing the soft silk aside to see what it is - to see if they have any others hiding under their-

He feels his face flush.

And he is now forced to confront the part he’s been attempting to avoid - that he likes them in such a way, something he hasn’t felt so strongly before.

There’s a tightness forming in his chest.

“Thanks.” To his surprise, there’s a flush of bashfulness to their cheeks. It’s hard to see under the joy their friends’ praise gives them. “Thought I’d switch it up a little, y’know?”

“Breathe, stupid!”

The sharp sound of Spite’s voice startles a gasp out of the assassin, and his vision swims a little as oxygen returns to his brain. And thank the Maker for his training, or that slip up might’ve been caught by everyone else in the room.

‘This is Teia’s fault.’

[redbleedingrose]

Rhys absolutely LOVES hip dips. Am I saying this because I have very prominent hip dips with thick thighs… yes…

I just want Rhys. That it’s.

Listen.... Do I have a firm belief that Illyrian males love their women chubby??? Yes. One thousand percent yes. NSFW 18+ in the last paragraph

Rhysand x Reader

Okay so listen, growing up... it was really hard to accept what you looked like. Your parents, particularly your mother, was always on top of you about your weight, harrassing you about the curves and extra chub on the side of your hips and arms. She always had something to say, and it really impacted the way you looked at yourself, the way you felt about yourself, and your confidence.

It took years to build up that confidence, and a lot of that is because of your extremely handsome mate if you know what I mean ;)

You were taught from a young age that males who look like Rhysand would never take a second glance at you, let alone even care enough to take a good enough first glance. But Rhys???

The first night he saw you, he couldn't tear his eyes away. He could feel his entire body alight with desire and need. The way your hair perfectly framed your full cheeks, your dress accentuating all of your curves, the plump of your breasts and the softness of your belly. The way your full hips swayed so alluringly to the music of the Starfall festival's different entertainers in the streets of Velaris. He just knew.

He knew everything and nothing all at once. Your pretty eyes locking with his darkened amythests. You couldn't believe you caught your high lords gaze. You couldn't even fathom you kept his gaze. You kept looking away, thinking he would have moved on to a prettier female, a thinner female. But there he was. Standing on the balcony of one of the famed restaurants of the Rainbow, looking down at you like you are the first and only star he has ever seen in a sky of darkness.

Every time you looked back, his eyes were on you. Only you. All over you, consuming you like a starved male. It was overwhelming to say the least, the most powerful high lord fixated so clearly on you. You did the only thing you could think, try to disappear within the crowd, to run home and hide away. It is what you have been taught to do all your life, make yourself small and hide away. Rhys didn't let you get too far though. Winnowing silently into a pace right next to you as you passed through the empty alley using a shortcut down to your little apartment on the Sidra, murmuring in a husk, "Leaving so soon, my pretty little peach?"

And you nearly tripped over, yelping from the heart attack he gave you. Your knees locked before you after frantically stepping back a foot, halting you from moving any further as you turned to face him, death incarnate, standing before you, a whole head a half taller than you with the darkness of the night seemingly rolling off his shoulders. The people of Velaris adore their high lord, night triumphant a common nickname for the male standing before you used by his commonwealth. But you can't help the anxiety that strikes your heart that begins to beat hard and fast enough, that you are nearly sure he can hear it with how he eases his hands up in surrender, violet eyes twinkling with the star of mischief eyeing at where your hand presses against your heaving chest. "My apologies dream, I didn't mean to startle you," an almost sheepish grin gracing his beautiful face, "You left in a hurry, and I wanted to make sure you were alright... safe."

Your shoulders drop a bit as you let out a sigh of relief, "I am fine, thank you Lord Rhysand, I was just --" "Rhys," he chimes softly, "Please call me Rhys."

You raise a brow at him, crossing your arms over your chest, making your cleavage even more tantalizing to the male before you. "Uh huh. Anyway, Lord Rhysand, as I was saying, I was just headed home. I've had a long night." The high lord chuckled at your sass, broad shoulders shaking as mirth filling his entire being as he shook at his head. His pretty little peach dream is fierce, Mother help him. "Let me walk you home," titling his head to the side as he shoved his tattooed hands into his pockets, trying to make himself appear less intimidating than the high lord he is.

Skepticism was clear on your face while you shifted on your feet, "Pardon, but don't you have better, more pressing things to do? You know, as high lord?" The handsome male shook his head again, this time, more firmly as he replied with conviction, "Not at all peach." You eyed him up and down again, trying to drink in aura standing before you, trying to analyze him for any hesitation on his part, and you couldn't see any. Letting your arms fall with a sigh, you nodded before continuing your walk silently.

And the rest was history.

It took years for you to give him your trust, your friendship, and even longer to give him your love. It wasn't that you didn't want to, but the fact that you just couldn't come to terms that someone like him, someone who looked as strikingly beautiful as him would want to spend time with you, would want to love you. And all throughout, you couldn't come to terms that the high lord found you attractive. It was an insecurity that raged like a fire constant and deep, a fire that couldn't be put out until decades into your relationship.

And in all that time, Rhys spent every second loving all of you. Even the parts that you hated, he couldn't get enough of. Your curves, specifically your hips, gods those hip dips, and your tummy. Your body made him feral inside. It was a drive he had, a natural instinctual drive, to make you his. Your body was that of a goddess, and he knew it. And he wanted to make sure you knew it too.

It started with small compliments here and there, about your hair, how it flowed perfectly and framed your face. Then, he moved to your face; how it glowed under the light of the stars, how your full cheeks looked beautiful when you smiled. He cautiously moved to your body. Adoring how you fit in your dresses, the way your hips would sway and the pudge of your thighs, how they made perfectly good cushions for his head to rest on while he whined about the difficulties of running the court. How your tummy was perfect in every way, how it made him feel so proud, that his girl was healthy and never had to worry about being hungry. He often thought about things like your tummy growing with his babes. How your breasts were so full and soft. He often thought that your tits would hold the best milk for his babes when he pumps you full of them.

And then he moves forward with making you feel more comfortable with yourself. Showing you that he can handle all of you, that he wants to handle all of you. He forces you to sit on his lap no matter where you are, whether it is at the dining table with the other inner circle members or out drinking in Rita's or conferencing with other high lords. Your throne is his lap. He also cherishes the way the chub of your hips feel under his hands, he handles them constantly. If he needs you to shift to the side or moves behind you, he will move you over using your love handles with a gentle tap to your ass and a kiss to the cheek.

The male is just needy for you.

He wants to grip at the meat on your thighs with his rough hands while you bounce on his large cock. He needs to see your soft tits and tummy giggle while he spears in and out of you. He wants to spread you out on the dining table and eat you out like you were his last meal. He wants to bury his face in your tits, suckling on your rock hard nipple while he pinches and rolls the other. He wants to leave marks all over the fat that sits above your hips, on your chubby thighs, on your neck and shoulders. He wants everyone to know and see who you belong to.

Anyway, yeah he is an utter slut for hip dips and for you.

(The other Bat boys and Vanserra Bros also love their females chubby)

Masterlist

[limegreenbunny]

Vi and the final nail in the coffin of her sisterhood with Jinx

Much has been discussed about the controversial decision of Vi giving up on Jinx and becoming an enforcer in season 2.

I realized, upon deciding I would like to do my own season 2 "rewrite", that it was going to be important for me to strip back the layers of what Vi's real motivations are (as set up in season 1), why she would consider her sister "dead" and what should have been her driving goal going into season 2.

Vi's main motivation should ALWAYS be her sister, whether out of love or out of hate, and whether she would admit this to herself or not. That's the only way to stay true to the story and themes set up in season 1. I don't believe the writers of season 2 had a good handle on this.

So here's the big question: Why was the final scene of s1 (Jinx's mad tea party/rocket launch party) also the final nail in the coffin for Vi and her relationship with her sister?

[Note: These are thoughts I developed before s2 aired but I did know that Vi was most likely going to become an enforcer, and I will be addressing this question in regards to what season 1 set up, (not the motivations that we must haphazardly guess at based on what the writers of season 2 gave us). I want to get these thoughts down on paper in preparation for my own rewrite of s2.]

Let's explore some possible answers:

The reason can't be that she is upset over the actual act of launching a rocket on the council. She doesn't like the council or Piltover, to put it mildly.

Is it just the wanton destruction that bothers her? Vi has already seen this behavior from Jinx, and while each time it pushes her farther down the path of "my sister is gone," since this attack is, again, against Piltover, it falls a little flat that THIS one would be the last straw, even though it's the biggest in scale.

Could it all be for Caitlyn because of the the death of her mother? I think this could be part of her motivation, however while Caitlyn has made an impact on her for the short time they've known each other it's still been only a VERY short time. Not enough for her to go back on her lifelong dedication to her sister. (Yet this appears to be the only consistent explanation for Vi's actions in season 2 which just doesn't work based on what season 1 set up).

I believe there is a deep personal reason for this scene to break Vi's dedication to Powder. Vi's last interaction with Powder was to hurt her physically and even worse to confirm all Powder's worst fears about herself (when before she was always the one to keep these fears at bay). Vi became a monster to her little sister. This is indirectly explained in the scene where she tells Caitlyn about their childhood monster game (the "real monster" could apply to four different people in the scene).

Next, Vi is taken to prison. She states that the only thing that kept her going was the idea that she could get out and find Powder again, presumably to make everything right again, to live up to Vander's dying request, to reverse the moment where she became her little sister's worst nightmare.

However, prison ends up being the place where she descends into the monster again and again. The show addresses the fact that she is regularly beaten by the guards but barely touches on what is found in Vi's prison log in the Council Archives minigame, that she regularly fights with and beats her fellow prisoners in some cases beating them nearly to death. It's definitely possible that some of these people deserved it but at the same time it points to a troubling pattern of Vi allowing herself to sink to these extremes, drowning her pain in violence.

"If only I can get back to Powder I can make things right. This monster that takes over sometimes, it isn't really ME. I have a good heart, I'll prove it once I'm out of here, once I find her."

Violet's quest to save her sister is as much about her own sense of self-worth as it is about Powder.

That's the key to the final sequence. That's why the tea party, followed by the rocket attack, was what broke their sisterhood. After everything Vi tried to do for her, JINX rejects VI. Jinx can see the truth, that they can never go back, and snatches away Vi's shot at redemption and the foundation of her self-worth. Just as the old Vi whom Powder used to rely on is forever changed, the innocent little girl that Vi relied on to still need her is gone. Vi needed Powder to save her from her own inner monster. And Jinx walked away. In many ways these final moments are a parallel to Vi's "Because you're a jinx" to Powder years before. 

And this should have served as a foundation for the next chapter in their story, one where they are enemies.

[momo-minomo]

Fic Fairy Friday: Tim and Damian Brotherhood

It's time for Tim and Damian! Man these two have had a rocky relationship. Most of the Tim fandom seems stuck on Damian's first appearance when he was homicidal and scathing to everyone and completely ignore his significant character growth. And Damian fans seem to either ignore Tim altogether or make him Bruce's most straight-laced soldier always playing by the rules which, have they even met Tim?! It can be really hard to find fics with these two either improving their relationship or just plain being brothers. So that said, here's ten of my favorite fics featuring these two!

The Fic Fairy Friday Masterpost

Trust fall by Ididloveyou_once

Summary:

‘Drake?’ Tim felt like he was choking. His throat was tight. He couldn’t swallow. ‘Damian?’ He managed. Damian was… here. At Kent Farm. Dressed in the too-big Batman pajamas that Dick had bought him last Christmas as a joke. And- And- Tim was wearing Kon’s t-shirt and his hair was messy and his lips were swollen and- He wasn’t ready for this- He wasn’t- He couldn’t- How had he been so stupid? Or: Tim comes out to Damian and prepares for the entire family to know by morning. It just so happens that Damian can keep a secret. Multiple, actually.

Momo's Notes: Spicy scene warning on this one between Tim and Kon! Tim is kinda traumatized from when his bio dad's reaction to him liking boys so seeing Damian at the Kent farm in the middle of the night while he's covered in hickeys nearly gave him a heart attack. But all that panic over is family finding out he's bi leads to some honestly really sweet moments of brotherly bonding between Tim and Damian.

an unplanned detour straight down by CarrionCarnival

Summary:

No one here has the right wing type for the sheer dive it would take to reach Damian before he hits the water like it’s concrete. No one here except Tim. - the Bats learn the hard way not to bring an unfledged vigilante to a midair battle

Momo's Notes: I've read this one dozens of times at this point. It's pretty short (under 5k words) but the way the author world builds so effortlessly with so few words is amazing. It's an AU where nearly all non-powered people have wings. On a mid-air mission to stop an alien invasions Damian (who's downy baby wings can't fly yet) falls. Tim is the only person there with the wing shape to maybe survive that kind of high speed dive. Tim and Damian awkwardly bonding at the end is perfection.

Yummy (I'll eat you right up) by iquirms

Summary:

Tim is very busy when the phone rings at work. He's been struggling to take care of Wayne Enterprises and going from Robin to something, it's a working process, and he's swamped in the backlog of work Bruce never did before he... Before. It's the Headmistress at Gotham Academy. A trip to his old school isn't what he wanted, but Damian's done something as as the only legal Wayne, he's got to go get him. Wonderful. or how one phone call changes the direction Tim and Damian are heading, and the aftershocks that come with it.

Momo's Notes: Please don't be thrown off by the title of this one like I was at first. I passed this gem up so many times (like an idiot) because the title made me think it would end up shipping them. It's actually a really good Canon Divergence AU where Lucius tagged Tim into the CEO role of WE before Tim took off to find Bruce. The extra responsibility delays his leaving so he and Damian actually get the chance to get to know each other and bond as brothers during the time Dick and Damian were doing the same as Batman and Robin. Bonus points for the amazing Janet Drake lore in there. I love it when writers make her a cold badass bitch that struggled with human emotions but honestly loved her son.

Hot Dog, French Fries by eggmacguffin

Summary:

Damian was not the sort of boy to mince words; perhaps he could get back to the Manor without alerting Drake to his compromised condition. It would be an exercise in espionage, he decided. or Truth Serum ft. Damian Wayne

Momo's Notes: This is a great one for Tim and Damian having the most normal brotherly relationship in the family even while living the weirdest of lives. Tim is so annoyed by Damian's very existence interrupting his patrol that he misses important signs that all is not right with his little brother. Damian stupidly suffers in silence rather than trust that his older brother won't use all this against him later.

Exit Strategy by smilebackwards

Summary:

Batman needs a Robin and Batman has a Robin. Tim is just extraneous now, vestigial. He’s a bandage over a healed wound. He doesn’t know what he’s hanging on to. Or: Tim didn’t expect his exit strategy from the Batfamily to involve quite so much bonding time with Damian over Wayne Enterprises bureaucracy.

Momo's Notes: Tim is convinced he's unnecessary and unwanted in the Batfamily but in his usual endearingly control freak way he can't stand the idea of leaving a mess behind for the family to clean up (or make worse) when he goes. Along the way he accidentally bonds with Damian (and also Jason). I wish there more fics like this one and Yummy where Tim takes Damian under his wing as a business and high society predator. They're the only two members of the Batfam who were raised to be wealthy princes with family legacies to inherit and I need more authors to explore that!

You'll Change Your Name or Change Your Mind by Samsamiam

Summary:

Tim Drake's journey to setting boundaries, learning to heal, and untangling the trauma Gotham gave him.

Momo's Notes: You wouldn't know it by the summary, but this whole series is full of Tim and Damian bonding. After another blow up with Bruce, and some badly timed commentary from Dick and Jason, Tim decides he needs some space from the family and his very dysfunctional place in it. He leaves Gotham to stay with the Titans but had no real intentions of bucking the status quo forever until it becomes painfully clear that with Tim's absence the role of emotional support/emotional punching bag Robin is falling onto Damian's shoulders. For the first time Tim plants himself in front of Bruce and FORCES him to back off and do better or else. He's determined to be a safe space for Damian to just be a 10 year old for once.

Gossamer Bonds by Solemini

Summary:

Tim hates spiders. Most children of Athena do, and with good reason. Given his druthers, Tim would have been content to simply avoid the little monsters for the rest of his life. Too bad fate – and Damian – had other plans. Or, in which weaving is Serious Business.

Momo's Notes: A Percy Jackson Demigod Au where Bruce is the favorite baby daddy for a lot of Greek gods and thus all of his kids except Damian is a demigod. This particular fic in the series focuses on Tim (child of Athena) and Damian (a human magic user). 10 year old Damian is doing what he did in canon, trying to oust a 14 year old Tim from Robin to take his place because his messed up assassin upbringing makes him believe that's the only way he'll have a place in the family. The fact that Tim is legitimately a blood son of Batman and was raised by him since infancy just adds to Damian's resentment and insecurity. The two end up alone against the homicidal bitterness of the monster Arachne and have to rely on each other to survive. Don't worry if you don't know the Percy Jackson series, it's not really necessary to follow this story. It's mostly just borrowing some of the lore of Demigods and a bit of the characterizations of the gods from it. As long as you know the Batfam and the basics of Greek mythology you're good to go.

The Wound Begins to Bleed by bowditch

Summary:

Now that Tim’s moved back to the manor, he just wants a few afternoons a week without Damian around. Funny how getting that was the catalyst for him becoming a better big brother.

Momo's Notes: Here's another example of Tim and Damian having the most normal sibling relationship of the family. Tim backs Damian's plea to volunteer at an animal shelter just to get rid of him for a few extra hours of peace and quiet. He's forced to step up and be a better big brother when he eventually realizes something is very wrong with Damian.

Into the Brighter Night by shoalsea

Summary:

When an unknown enemy threatens Robin, Gotham's vigilantes come together to keep him safe. Unfortunately, they're protecting the wrong Robin. Or: Tim Drake plans his own rescue. Things get complicated.

Momo's Notes: Finally a fic that's almost entirely in Damian's pov! A dangerous alien force threatens to obliterate anyone standing between them and Robin so the Batfamily (minus Bruce and Alfred who are out of town) scramble to keep their youngest safe. They failed to realize until it's too late that the case the enemy is referencing was before Damian's time in uniform. Damian is forced to deal with the fallout of Tim protecting him and the family slowly crumbling at the loss as they wait to see if Tim's insane plan will bring him back to them. Damian's slow realization of Tim's importance to the family, and to him, is handled really well. Bonus points for the sheer chaos and fun that the Young Justice crew bring to this. It's not often a fic is able to capture the unhinged badassery of YJ98!

I’d Mistaken the Truth for a Lie, but You Cared and You Saved Me by Chemical_Processes

Summary:

Tim's been fixing Bruce's mistakes since he became Robin. It only makes sense that he'd step in when it comes to Damian as well.

Momo's Notes: Short but so satisfying! Damian POV of an AU where he and Tim's first meeting goes VERY differently. Damian is new to his father's household and is half indignant and half terrified at how Bruce is treating him (not abusive, just emotionally incompetent as usual). Tim is full swing in his "manage Bruce/Batman to ensure his failure at being human/grief-fueled crashout doesn't destroy anything or anyone" era and isn't going to sit by while Bruce speedruns burning down another father-son relationship.

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐅𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader x jack daniels

genre: smut, minors dni, dude ranch au, modern au

word count: 7.7k

summary: joel challenges jack to make you into the finest there possibly is in two days.

warnings: threesome (mfm), mlm dynamics, some jealousy, outdoor sex, piv, oral sex, dirty talking

a/n: happy birthday @fuckyeahdindjarin 🎉 I hope you enjoy you slutty cowboys--both of them nearly gave me a heart-attack while writing ❤️‍🔥 this gif was made my the lovely @pedrorascal who I am so grateful for helping me out preparing your this bday surprise!

**dividers by @saradika

You take a breath and sneak out of the cozy room. It had been hard parting away from your cozy bed. The warmth provided by the hand-knitted blanket and the scent of delicious wood made you want to never leave. They’ve really done a great job decorating the rooms of the dude ranch. It still holds the Western theme you love, but it's also adorned with rustic charm, from the weathered leather furniture to the handcrafted wooden accents, creating a welcoming atmosphere.

It had been a couple of days since your arrival. You were tired of... well, everything and desperately needed an out. You wish you could say that it happened like in the movies— a divine sign that made you come here, but no. There was no divine intervention, no mysterious flyer sticking to your face. You had to do an endless amount of research to find the perfect place, and when you were done, you picked the ranch that had the least foot traffic. You were running away from people. Choosing the most touristy one would defeat the purpose—you wanted to be alone.

And you were glad that you did. The place was amazing. Surrounded by large mountains and wide fields. This place wasn’t so people would come and see what was what. It was an actual ranch with actual people working all the time. Accepting guests was the side hustle and not the other way around. 

There were two cowboys that you constantly saw: Joel Miller and Jack Daniels. Both charming, both handsome enough to make you want to scream. Jack had been personally assigned to you, but Joel was always around, watching, observing, and, of course, running his mouth. You’ve grown accustomed to their odd friendship... rivalry? It was actually kind of cute to see Jack turn all red whenever Joel said something to undermine him. And the other seemed to know that well.

Two talented cowboys. And you, who had no idea what the hell you were doing. 

Which is why you were escaping your room like some kind of criminal at the brink of dawn. Joel’s teasing wasn’t only reserved for Jack, you got your fair share as well and it was even worse when Jack chimed in—the two seasoned horse riders letting you know just how out of your element you were. You needed to train without those two constantly spitting quips your way.

You silently make your way to the stables and blindly reach out towards Honeydust, the palomino Jack had gotten you accustomed to. You gently guide her away from the other horses. The rose-pink light of dawn has begun to trickle through the open windows, painting Honeydust’s coat in a gorgeous hue. You regret not bringing your phone; you would’ve loved to show Jack and Joel later on.

“Alright girl,” you mutter as you pat the side of her face. She whinnies slightly and digs her hoof into the ground. “It’s you and me. Let’s show them how it’s done.” 

As you reach for the saddle, you smile to yourself. You might not be that good at horse riding yet but you did learn some things—like the value of a good saddle. You take a moment to inhale the scent of it— a mix of leather, hay, and a hint of earthiness.

Honeydust stands patiently, seemingly aware of your fumbling attempts to secure the saddle. You take a deep breath, remembering the lessons Jack patiently gave you about saddling up. Slowly but surely, you manage to get everything in place. As you tighten the cinch, you feel a sense of accomplishment. A week ago, you hadn’t been able to do this. Maybe you're not a full-on cowboy, but you're determined to learn the ropes.

With the saddle secured, you grab the reins and lead Honeydust out of the stable, into the cool morning air. The sky is a canvas of pastel colors—blues, pinks, and golds blending together as the sun inches higher. It's a breathtaking sight. You pat Honeydust on the muzzle and press your cheek against her, watching the sky.

“Isn’t it beautiful,” you whisper to her. “Honestly I’m gonna hate going back. It’s been a couple of days and I’m already attached to this place.” 

Honeydust snorts and shakes her head. You smile wide as you pat her again, “You’re right. No room for sentimentality.” 

Mounting Honeydust, you settle into the saddle, adjusting to the feel of it beneath you. The quiet creak of leather is drowned out by the sounds of the waking ranch. Birds chirp in the distance, and you take a deep breath, your lungs filling with the fresh scent of the outdoors—

But then you’re slipping. 

And then falling. 

With a loud, sharp gasp, you find yourself unexpectedly upside down beneath Honeydust's belly. Panic sets in as you register the proximity of her powerful legs, your eyes widen, your heart pounding loudly in your chest. Honeydust remains still, your body still miraculously hanging to the saddle. 

Your heartbeat starts to slow, you take a deep breath. You’re fine. You’re okay. You just forgot to fasten one of the belts. 

“Need any help there, sweetheart?” 

Fuck. Busted. 

“I’m fine,” you answer, emphasizing the latter. Jean-clad legs come into view. “Just. . . trying a new riding style.” 

“Is that so?” Joel drawls, amusement dripping with every word. “And what would you call this one? The hangin’ fool?” 

“Rude.” 

His hips cock to the side and you see him placing both hands on his narrow hips, “Would it be better if I called it the hangin’ beauty?” 

“Yes actually, it would.” 

Your cheeks warm as he steps closer. You try not to stare, or perhaps that’s just you lying to yourself, but whatever your true intention was your eyes linger right over his crotch. Even with the thick jeans and the belt buckle, you know he’s packing underneath there. You can especially tell now since this is the closest you’ve ever been to it. Your mouth waters. Your brain delving further into sinful imagination when his low chuckle echoes in your ear. 

“A’right then beautiful, let’s get you out here.” he stops for a beat, his knuckles brushing down the outer part of your leg. You shudder, your legs tighten around Honeydust. “Unless you wanna show me this new ridin’ style of yours?” 

“You know what, I think I’ll take a rain check on that.” your voice is shrill and pitchy. Your eyes start to throb. “Especially since all the blood in my body is currently in my head.” 

“Oh shit—Okay, just gimme a sec.” he slides his hands under your armpits. “A’right now let go.” 

“What?” 

“Just let go, sweetheart. I got you. You’ll be okay, promise.” 

With a sharp breath, you close your eyes and loosen your legs. Joel's arms wrap further beneath yours, drawing you closer. You feel the tightening of his biceps, feel the huff of his breath against your cheek. He takes a step back and suddenly unbalanced, he falls backward, pulling you along.

With a huff, Joel lands on his ass, and you find yourself comfortably nestled against his chest. It takes you only a second for your gaze to find his. You hold your breath and so does he. His hand pleasantly curls around your waist, keeping you from moving away. His chest is firm under your own, your nipples tightening when you shift a bit, the graze of fabric makes you shudder. 

His other hand comes to brush a strand of loose hair behind your ear. You swallow not once but twice. The warmth of Joel’s palm cradles your cheek and a slow breath exits your lungs. 

“You a’right?” 

“Y—Yeah. . . thanks for helping me out.” 

“My pleasure.” His voice is deep, hoarse even, and it scratches your ears just right. You find yourself drawn to him. Your eyes dropping to his lips and back up to meet his heavy-lidded gaze. His lips part. The divot in the middle of his bottom lip more prominent than ever. You lean in without a thought, he mimics you, coming in closer and closer. Your chest heaves. Your heart beating madly against your chest. 

“What the hell are you two doin’ canoodling here?” 

You jerk away, your eyes lingering on Joel long enough to see the disappointment in his gaze. His eyes close slowly and he takes a ragged breath. Shifting slightly you see Jack holding a hay bale. His eyes are narrowed, his brows knitted together as his gaze flits between you and Joel. You chew the inside of your cheek, embarrassment heating you from the inside out. 

“We ain’t canoodlin’,” Joel answers, agitated. “I found her hanging upside down under Honeydust’s belly. Who’s fault do you think is that?” 

Jack’s mouth opens and closes, his cheeks suddenly flushed. His gloved hands tighten around the hay as he pushes it up his arms. Then finally, with a softened gaze, he turns to you. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you reply, your heart currently beating in your throat. “I just forgot to fasten the other side of the saddle.” 

Joel squeezes your waist and you’re suddenly hyper-aware that you’re basically on his lap still. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. You have a shit teacher.” 

“Excuse me?” Jack’s tone is enough to have you scrambling off of Joel’s lap. If looks could kill, Joel would be dead right now. On your feet, you move towards Honeydust, and with great comfort, she nuzzles your chest. Joel smiles lazily when Jack drops the bale of hay and walks up to him. “You better take that back, old man.” 

“Yeah?” his eyes glow with mirth. “Make me.” 

Involuntarily you cover your mouth with a hand. Is it bad that you’re secretly enjoying this? The amount of testosterone in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife. 

Joel slowly gets up, as if he has all the time in the world, and faces Jack. He’s slightly taller than the latter, smile still tugging at his lips as he tilts his head ever so slightly down. Jack’s nostrils flare. 

“You want me to knock you out in front of our guest?” 

“I’d love to see you try.” 

Joel takes another step closer, his chest nearly flushed against the other, he jerks his head to the side and places his hands on his hips. You swear you see Jack’s skin darkening with a deep shade of red from his chest to his neck. His jaw is wired tight, the muscle there twitching. 

“How about this,” Joel grins. “You manage to make our sweet girl here a full-on cowgirl in two days and I’ll eat my words right outta your hand, Whiskey.” 

Jack huffs and clicks his tongue, “Don’t call me that.” 

“It’s your name isn’t it?” 

“It ain’t and you know it.” 

“Your parents shouldn’t have named you Jack Daniels,” Joel rolls his eyes, “Do we have a deal or not?” 

You hold your breath when Joel extends a hand. Jack’s eyes briefly find yours, his fingers twitching. The morning chill is still in the air and despite it, beads of sweat appear on your skin. Two days. Two days and you still don’t know how to put on a saddle right. With a small shake, you attempt to warn Jack but that only makes him smile. 

He turns to Joel, “Deal,” he answers, taking his hand. “Two days. Be ready to eat your words, old man.” 

They shake on it and as they do Joel gives you a not so subtle wink. It reminds you of just how close the two of you were a mere couple of minutes ago. You avert your gaze, suddenly shy to face him, and think about what might’ve happened if Jack hadn’t interrupted. 

When Joel leaves, Jack lets out a long sigh and turns to you. 

“You slipped, darlin’, really?” 

“In my defense, it was early.” 

“Fuckin’ hell.” He shakes his head but you see the way his lips curl upwards ever so slightly. “Anyway, wait for me here and I’ll be right back. We gotta get you into tip-top shape because I ain’t gonna lose to Joel.” 

“I warned you, you know,” you softly kick the dirt with the tip of your boot. 

Jack’s tongue moves over his bottom lip, a shudder crawls up your spine and heat pools between your legs. He grips the bale of hay and throws it over his shoulder. 

“That’s why I accepted the challenge, sugar. No guest of mine is gonna leave here without feelin’ like they can conquer the world.” 

“Jack this is impossible I’m never going to get the hang of this.” 

“With that attitude you sure ain’t gonna.” 

With a crooked smile, Jack watches as you draw your shoulders together and stomp your boot against the soil. The lasso is tight between your fingers, the tips of which are chafed from turning the lasso again and again in an attempt to loop the rope around one of the wooden posts. He tilts his head to the side when you turn to him, a pleading expression etched onto your beautiful face.

"This is never going to happen," you huff. However, instead of keeping his eyes locked on yours, his gaze drops to where your flannel hugs your breasts, the poor buttons struggling to keep it all together. His cock swells at the thought of licking them, sucking on your hard nipples while the sweetest noises flee from your lips. "Jack?"

He doesn’t hide the fact that he’s been staring at your gorgeous tits, he drags his gaze back slowly, his smile only growing upon seeing your parted lips and glazed eyes. “Yeah, sugar?” 

“We’re never going to win this thing with Joel,” you say and he doesn’t fail to notice how breathless you suddenly are. “How am I supposed to learn to do everything a cowboy can in two days? Seems a bit unfair.” 

“Not everythin’,” he struts towards you and peels the lasso from your fingers. “We just need to cover the basics. No one is expectin’ you to catch a knife in mid-air with a lasso.” 

Your brows furrow, “What? You’re saying you can actually do that?” 

“‘Course I can,” he chirps back. “Unlike you, I’m a top-notch cowboy.” 

His heart breaks a little when he sees how defeated you look, with a small nudge to your shoulder, he draws your gaze back to him. “Want me to show you again darlin’?” 

“Sure but I’m not sure it’ll do me any good. I’m horrible at this.” 

With a reassuring grin, Jack steps back, unwinding the lasso he took from you. He takes a moment to adjust the coils and then demonstrates the art of lassoing, the rope flying through the air in a graceful arc before landing perfectly around a wooden post.

“You see, it's all in the wrist,” he explains as he smoothly tightens the loop, making it look deceptively easy. He repeats the motion a couple of times, each throw precise and controlled.

“You know who’s really good at this?” he asks, returning his attention to you. “Joel.”

You snort, “I feel like that man is good at everything. But I’m not sure why you’re telling me that.”

“Well, you know who used to suck at it—me.”

“You?” you raise a sole eyebrow, and a teasing smile touches your lips. “You who can catch a knife in the air, supposedly, that is.”

“It takes a lot of practice, sugar. That's what I’m tryin’ to tell ya. I sucked at it. Couldn’t even do one loop. Then the old timer helped me out.”

“Joel?”

Yup," he says, noticing your shock. He had been shocked too when the man had shown him how to properly do it. It was both amazing and terrifying. Jack had never had someone care about him enough to actually show him how it's done instead of letting him struggle on his own. "And eventually, I got the hang of it. So will you.”

You smile wholeheartedly and take the lasso from him, “Thanks, Jack. I. . . I appreciate it. You actually really respect him, don’t you? Despite all the banter and arguing.” 

“That’s just how I show love, darlin’.” 

“You never argue with me.” 

His eyebrows tilt up, along with the corner of his lips. You avert your eyes as you loosely hold the rope in your hand, the exercise quickly forgotten. Jack closes the distance until there's only a breath of space between you two. He entertains the idea of lifting your head by the chin, forcing your gaze upon him, but he refrains. He wants you to listen to him and oblige.

“Look at me, darlin’,” His eyes shine with delight when you do, he leans closer. “You want me to fight you?” 

Your brows furrow, your lips forming the most adorable pout, “No. Of course not.” 

“You sure?” This time he does cup your cheek to keep your gaze fixed on him. His pinkies move towards your neck, drawing soft patterns up and down your skin. You visibly shudder, a soft breath escaping your lips. “I see how you watch when Joel and I start to bitch and moan at each other, sugar. You sure you’re not into it even a little?” 

He knows your answer. But he allows you to giggle and escape his hold anyway. “You’re ridiculous,” you say and as a response Jack wants to touch on the fact that you can’t look at him anymore, however, he’ll allow you to escape him for now. 

“Come on then, now that you got your giggles on, let’s see you at least pull in one of those cones.” 

While you attempt to just do that, Jack ends up regretting teasing you because he ends up thinking about Joel instead. It’s hard to admit that the constant bickering is the obvious telltale sign of something more. And he knows there’s something. Joel only weaponizes his tongue when you’re around. Or someone else for that matter. But when it’s just the two of them it’s different. It’s lingering touches and heavy scotch-filled conversations. Sometimes Joel would even whisper so he wouldn’t wake the others. Jack shivers as he remembers how Joel’s lips felt against the shell of his ear. Downright sinful. 

It always remained at that, however. Touches and looks and talks. Nothing more and nothing less. 

“Jack,” you say, your voice drawing him away from thoughts he’s happy to be drawn away from. “How did you end up here? Like with Joel and the rest.” 

“It’s not much of a story. I was lookin’ for a job and came here lookin’ for one.” He lifts his hat and combs his hair back with his fingers. “I actually met Tommy first. Joel doesn’t like the hiring process and says his younger brother is a better judge of character. I met him after I was hired. Then I met the little munchkins.” 

“You mean Sarah and Ellie?” 

“Yes ma’am I do,” he reaches forward, letting his fingers nearly brush yours. He chuckles, "I also know what you're doing, so stop stalling and throw the damn lasso already."

You take your bottom lip between your teeth and all Jack wants to do is pry it away from the sharp edges, "Oh, are we arguing? Should I add this moment to my journal?” you manage to lock your gaze with his, a grin spreading across your face. “Does this mean you love me?" 

He takes a step closer, leaning ever so slightly into your personal space. A hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, he breathes, "How 'bout this? You throw that rope, and I'll kiss you, sweetheart. Then you’ll really know what I feel."

Your eyes widen, "You’ll... excuse me?"

A wicked glint in his eyes, he quips, "I'll kiss you, full-blown on the lips. And believe me, it'll be my pleasure to lay one on you."

"Just throw the rope? Aren't you selling a bit short?"

Jack takes another step towards you and you can feel the heat radiating from him. His voice low and husky, he counters, "Fine then, manage to actually lasso something, and then I'll kiss you."

"You're mean. You said you'd only do it if I threw it." You challenge him by taking a step closer and he’s delighted to see it. 

Cupping her face in his hands, he grins, "Changed my mind. And you have yourself to blame for it."

With all his heart Jack wishes for you to make the throw. Something primal and ugly in him finds extreme joy in being the one to kiss you first. He hated to admit it, but his heart broke a little when he found you and Joel together, lips almost about to touch. He hated feeling like an outsider. Especially when it came from Joel.

With a determined glint in your eyes, you take a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Gripping the lasso in your hands, you start to swing it in a circular motion above your head. It’s sloppy and uneven but he can see how much care you’ve put into your stance. Jack watches intently, noting the way you shift your weight from one food to another, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

As the lasso gains momentum, you release it at just the right moment. It sails through the air, forming a perfect loop. Jack's eyes follow its trajectory, silently urging it to find its mark. The loop descends gracefully, and, with a satisfying thud, it settles around a nearby plastic cone and you pull it towards yourself, the plastic moving with ease. 

A triumphant grin breaks across your face as you complete the throw. “I did it,” you gasp in a low tone, panting. Your head suddenly snaps towards him, a shit-eating grin plastered over your perfect lips. “I DID IT!”  

Jack only smiles as he leans in and cradles your face in a rush. He crashes into you, lips meeting yours in an eager, lingering kiss. He teases the seam of your mouth with the tip of his tongue. Just a brief preview of how badly he wants this to happen. His hands slip to your ass, kneading the plump flesh, his cock stiffens at how you moan into his mouth. You press against him and Jack can’t help but roll his hips to feel more of you. It’s been so long. Too long since he felt something warm and tight around his cock. 

He parts away by dragging his lips down to your chin and from there to your neck. He nips at your pulse, feeling it beating against his mouth. 

“Jack,” you breathe. “I—Wow—” 

“Kissin’ is one thing I’m better at,” he chuckles deeply into your ear. “Among other things.” 

He holds you by the neck and gently pulls away. He can’t get enough of the expression you’re giving him; pupils blown and lips slightly parted. Your chest heaves heavily, your pulse beating wildly under his palm. Jack brushes your lips together, smiling upon hearing you whimper. 

“Now, throw that lasso again and I’ll give you another kiss.” 

And it all comes down to horse riding. You should be surprised but you’re not. 

The sun was finally setting over the ranch. A subtle chill settling at the base of your snake as the sun went down. It had been a tiring day full of lasso throwing, ax throwing, and knotting. Your back ached and when the final challenge finally befell you all you wanted to do was go back to your room and sleep. The only thing that gave you an ounce of energy was Jack’s proud smile after every challenge that was won. Joel seemed genuinely impressed. And you were genuinely surprised to find yourself acing every task. Seeing how smug Jack got made your heart flutter and stomach draw tight. 

The two of you had done a lot of kissing that day. It hadn’t gone any further but deep down you really wanted it to. 

You feel a deep sense of Deja Vu when you find yourself staring at Honeydust with a saddle in hand. You take a deep breath, fingers tightening around the leather. The open air gives you a sense of calm, the cloudy sky a pleasure to gaze upon.

Jack touches the small of your back, goosebumps rising across your skin at the gentle touch, “You got this darlin’ don’t worry so much.” 

You briefly glance at the track Joel and Jack had set up for you. Wooden fences stand tall at various intervals, creating a series of jumps that make you sweat just by thinking about them. Your eyes linger on the strategically placed cones that form a zigzag pattern. 

“Honestly no matter what happens I’m impressed,” Joel cuts in, cupping Honeydust’s cheek. Your gaze moves deftly from the track to the man standing before you. As always, he looks amazing in his red and yellow flannel. “You’ve done well sweetheart.” 

“Maybe you should just forfeit and accept we won then,” you answer, smiling. Joel shakes his head. 

“Someone is sure of herself.” 

“Hell yeah, I am.” 

“Look at that,” Jack pipes. “Soundin’ like a true cowboy already.” 

You expertly secure the saddle onto Honeydust's back. The leather feels cool beneath your fingertips as you tighten the straps, ensuring a snug fit. Adjusting the stirrups, you make sure they're the perfect length for your legs. As you stand beside the horse, you can feel the intensity of Joel and Jack's gazes on you. Their eyes trace the curves of your movements, a subtle tension lingering in the air.

With everything in place, you take a deliberate breath and swing yourself onto the saddle. The leather creaks slightly under your weight as you settle into position. Honeydust shifts beneath you. You catch Joel's gaze, and a sly smirk plays on his lips. His eyes linger a moment longer than necessary, you let out a puff of air, your legs tighten around Honeydust..

"Remember, just go with the flow. You and Honeydust are a team," Jack advises and with that, you head off. 

Gently nudging your heels against the horse's side, you urge Honeydust into a graceful gallop around the track. The steadying thud of her hooves pounding against the dirt creates a harmony that molds with the song of the wind, transporting you to a place of serenity. Each hurdle makes your heart jump with excitement. The jumps seem impossible at times. As you zigzag through the cones, you can feel Honeydust's muscles tense and relax under your hands, transitioning from one step to the next with the gracefulness of a dance—

A sudden jolt disrupts the rhythm, and you find yourself tumbling to the ground. You let out a deep groan as your back hits the earth and with the corner of your eye, you see Joel taking hold of Honeydust’s reins, calming the poor palomino. Jack’s face comes into vision a second later. 

"You okay, darlin'?" When you nod and begin to get up, his worry turns to frustration as he glances at Joel. "This was supposed to be about teaching, not pushing her to the damn limit."

"I didn't mean for her to fall, Jack. So don’t act like that was my intention."

“No, your intention was to make me look like I don’t know what I’m doin’.” 

Jack, eyes still glued on Joel, helps you up. Your head is still spinning a little from the adrenaline rush but other than that you feel fine. Your eyes flitting between both men, your stomach twists and turns at how they’re both glaring at each other. This time is different from the arguments. This time they both genuinely look like they’re about to explode. Joel has his jaw tight while Jack has both hands in tight fists. “Guys. . .” 

"Why you gotta make everythin’ personal?" Joel snaps, ignoring you all together. “It was just meant to be a harmless bet.” 

Jack's eyes narrow, he tears his hand away from yours and your heart drops, "You're the one who makes it damn personal by goadin’ me all the damn time."

“That’s. . .” Joel’s eyes grow soft, his demeanor changing entirely. You watch the furrow between his brows relax, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly. “I’m—” 

“Can it,” Jack hisses through gritted teeth and raises a hand. “I don’t want your apology, I just wanna go. Unless you think I’m gonna be bad at that too.” 

You reach out, head still spinning, your fingers graze the back of his jacket and he slips from between your grasp. You part your lips to call out to him. To tell him to come back. But Joel takes a hold of your hand and lowers it with the shake of his head. 

“I know where he’s goin’. Let’s go.” 

“Are you telling me he has a brooding spot?” 

“He does.”

The sun had set. The crickets now singing under the starry night, but Joel can't focus on any of it. He can’t because he might’ve actually screwed everything up for good this time— which would be typical of him.  

After months of contemplating whether he should take the next step or not, he’d finally made Jack snap. That had never been Joel’s intention, obviously. But he wasn’t the best at flirting. Never had been. And when Jack came into his life, all fresh faced and a lashing tongue, he couldn’t help but fall for him a little. 

You’re walking just a little bit behind him, trying to keep up. He can feel you staring at him. Your eyes curious like a newborn gazelle’s. 

“If you stare any harder I’m gonna start blushin’ sweetheart.” 

“I’m. . . I wasn’t. . .” 

“Sure you were,” he sighs. “It wasn’t my intention to be hard on him you know. It just. . . sorta happens. I care a lot about him and I just want him to. . . “ He clamps his mouth shut. What was he supposed to say? How he was hoping that all the teasing would finally push Jack into his arms? How he wanted to do more than touch Jack when he knew no one else could see. 

“You want him to. . .  what exactly?” 

“I don’t know,” he says through gritted teeth. “It’s complicated between us.” 

“You both have a crush on each other and don’t know what to do about it. It’s not that complicated.”

Joel’s mouth opens and closes— then opens again. “And how the hell do you know that?” 

“Because he talks about you a lot,” you answer with a soft smile. “He said he cares about you. And about your opinion.” Joel’s eyes narrow as you rub the back of your head, your eyes dropping to where you would be taking your next step. “I just don't know where I fit in all of this.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You and I almost kissed,” you say finger moving between you two. “Jack and I actually kissed. And well. . . I don’t want to get in the middle of anything. It might be a bit sudden but I like you guys, I care about you, and want you guys to be together if that’s what you want.” 

“It’s not your job to worry about us.” Joel huffs, his guilt gnawing at him. “But I get what you mean. We. . . we didn’t intend to put you in that position. I can assure you this wasn’t some twisted game we were tryin' to play. I can't talk for Jack but I care about you. And I care about him if that makes sense. But I fear that me being emotionally constipated might’ve ruined it with him. He gets mad every time I open my mouth.” 

“That’s because you tease him all the time and honestly he’s not doing any better than you.” Joel’s eyes go wide when you suddenly cradle his cheeks and bring his face towards your own. “And you haven't ruined anything Mr. Miller. You just need to tell him exactly what you’ve been telling me.” 

“You think so?” 

“I know so.” 

Before he can reach he feels the soft touch of your lips. You kiss him slowly—tenderly. Joel follows your lead, parting his lips, he allows you to slip your tongue inside. He sucks on your tongue, enjoying the way your body presses against his. 

When you pull back, you’re completely dazed.

“Now what was that for?” he asks.

“To keep everything even” you answer, smiling. “Now let's go get our brooding cowboy.” 

It doesn’t take long for that to happen. They find Jack sitting on the ground, his back pressed snugly against the wooden fence. He’s staring at the stars. The gentle light streaming down his face and down his neck, Joel’s heart skips a beat at the sight and he feels as though he can’t breathe. 

Only when they walk closer does he notice the bottle of whiskey. He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a swig, Joel’s eyes follow the way drops of amber trickle down his sun-kissed skin. 

All Joel wants to do is lick the bitter drop off of him. 

The two stop before him. Neither of you knowing what to do or what to say. Joel attempts to apologize by parting his lips and that is the exact moment where Jack finally meets his gaze. 

“I know,” he says curtly. “Sit.” Jack extends the bottle of whiskey. Joel, without a word, sits down and takes the bottle. Just as he’s taking a swig, he notices you’re about to leave.  Thankfully Jack stops that from coming to fruition. “And where do you think you’re goin’? Sit your ass over here.” 

Joel almost cackles at how shocked you look. With the tiniest yelp escaping your lips you sit down right next to Jack. Taking a mouthful of whiskey, Joel extends you the bottle. You take it and chug it down immediately—Jack snorts and finally Joel feels comfortable enough to laugh alongside him. 

“Calm down darlin’, it ain’t runnin’ away.” 

“Sorry,” you hiccup, shoving the bottle into Jack’s chest. “I’m nervous.” 

“Well, don’t be,” Jack sighs and his head falls back against the fence. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I—” 

“We know,” Joel says with a fond smile. He throws his arm over Jack’s shoulder and cups the back of his head, his hat tumbling to the ground—it was now or never. 

For the first time, Joel brings their faces together without the tease of what he might or might not do. He kisses Jack tenderly, softly. Just like how he wanted to treat him during all those nights they were alone together. Jack digs his fingers into Joel’s shirt, nails nearly biting into the skin. Much to Joel’s surprise, the other man tastes sweet. Their tongues move together, still unsure but eager to explore. 

When Joel opens his eyes ever so slightly, he sees you staring in awe. 

He nearly breaks away laughing. But also, he can’t really blame you for your expression. 

It really does feel magical. 

You hold your breath. Every nerve ending you have is buzzing with want and arousal. The space between your legs pulsing as you watch Joel tilting his head, slipping his tongue through Jack’s eager lips. Deep down you feel like you’re intruding. That this is a tender moment that should just be between the two men but you can’t help but stay there, like a deer in headlights, watching.  

You shudder at the sound of Jack moaning, his hands grip Joel’s shoulder and host himself up the older man’s lap. He grinds down, swallowing Joel’s gasps, he parts away, a trail of saliva connecting the two. You’re still holding your breath. The tips of your fingers numb, your brain a whirlwind as it registers the sight before you. 

“Stupid old man,” Jack rasps, tilting his head to the side. “Gettin’ all sappy.” Then his heavy gaze finds your struck ones. He reaches out and in a dream-like state you take his hand, his fingers hastily close around your wrist and tugs you towards him. Your gasp is caught in your throat when he kisses you. The taste of Joel and whiskey still heavy on his tongue. 

A hand that doesn’t belong to Jack trails up the curve of your ass and squeezes. A choked-out moan drops from your lips only for Jack to shove his tongue between them. He sucks on your tongue and nips at your bottom lip all the while rolling his hips over Joel’s lap. 

“God, look at you two,” Joel groans, giving your ass another firm squeeze before moving his attention to Jack’s spread thighs. “I want to watch you eat that pretty pussy up, Jack. Bet you want that too. . .” 

Joel palms Jack’s cock through the denim, stroking him with a smug smile. Jack parts away from your lips with a whimper. His chest heaves. “Yeah,” he gasps, staring into your eyes, and his hips jerk, chasing the heat of the other’s palm. “Want you to make a mess of me, sugar.”

“Please,” you answer albeit not really needed. Your body falls back to sit on your heels, Joel crashes his lips against the younger cowboy’s, drinking the noises in like a starved man. He rips his flannel open while straightening himself, the momentum of the movement forcing Jack to grip Joel’s shoulders. He slides off of Joel’s lap, the kiss breaking when he directs his full lust-addled attention to you. 

His gaze is enough for you to start struggling with the buttons of your jeans. You kick them off in a rush and before you can take off your shirt Jack is already laying you down upon the soil, the stars above blinking down at you with mischief. Joel sitting close, pulls your head so you’re nestled comfortably above his lap. His hands cradle your face, thumbs stroking your skin gently. It’s a complete contrast compared to how Jack is. He slides your panties to the side, the pad of his thumb resting right above your clit, he stares at your from between your spread-out thighs. 

“Fuckin’ delicious,” he mutters right before delving in. He drags his tongue slowly up your folds while tenderly stroking your clit. Your back arches off of the earth, your eyes fluttering closed as he goes back down, only to kiss you tenderly. He takes his time with you. His jaw moving and tongue teasing your fluttering entrance. Your breath catches in your throat, your chest rattling, Joel shushes you while praising Jack at the same time. 

When your eyes finally open, you find Joel looking down at you. His thumb traces the underline of your bottom lip and moves down until he reaches the hem of your flannel. Flattening his thumb over your stomach, he pushes the fabric up until he exposes you to the sky completely. He cups both your breasts and smooths his fingers over your tingling nipples. 

“So hard already. . . you must really like what he’s doin’ down there huh?” 

Tears stinging the corner of your eyes, you nod. Your silent reply is answered with a sharp bite to the inside of your thigh. Your body jolts, a gasp of pain rattling your throat. Joel smiles. “I think he wants to hear you, sweetheart.”

“I love it,” you moan and as a reward, he pinches your nipples. 

“Good girl.” 

Jack presses his tongue deeper, your body clenching at both the words and the movement. He groans into your cunt, the bridge of his nose brushing your aching clit deliciously as he swirls his tongue. Your stomach coils tight and you push more of yourself into Joel’s palms, your mouth drops wide. You want more. You need more. You want them both to take and take and take—take until you forget your own damn name. 

“Joel. . .” you breathe. He looks down at you curiously. “I want to suck your cock.” 

Jack stops only for a moment before his eyes flutter closed and loses himself in you. Vaguely you can see the way he grinds down, a groan reverberating between your legs. Joel sucks in a breath and exhales from his nose. “You sure?” 

Your answer is ready on your tongue, and as soon as you give it to him, he expertly unbuttons himself. The tip of his cock pushes against your lips and your breath hitches. Precome smears over the soft flesh, your tongue darting out for a taste, you end up tasting from the source instead. Joel’s hips stutter. 

“Holy fuckin’ hell,” his hips jerk a second time, this time thrusting himself deeper into your mouth. You feel him leaning over, a second later you understand he’s reaching for the other man who is working you toward your orgasm. “Jack com’ere—Let me taste her.” 

Jack doesn’t make Joel repeat himself and unwillingly pulls himself away from between your legs. Your tongue swirls around Joel’s cock as Jack kisses him deeply. He licks himself deep into the older man’s mouth, stealing a moan deep within Joel’s chest. While Jack steals the breath from Joel’s lungs, he pushes two fingers into you with ease. Your eyes rolling, you take more of Joel into your mouth, prompting the other to instinctively thrust deep enough to make you choke around him. 

He parts from Jack with a gasp, “Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart, choke on it.” he says through gritted teeth. Both men look down at you with dark eyes, the shadows caused by the moonlight caress their backs, deepening every crease of their faces. You shudder. 

You’re surprised to see Jack dipping down, lower from where you’re sucking Joel’s cock, he sucks the tender skin of the base, and the sound that Joel makes almost feels inhumane. 

But Jack doesn’t linger. He pulls away from both of you, his torso tall between your legs, he strokes himself at the sight of your mouth full of the man he admires. 

“You like having your mouth full, darlin’? Such a dirty girl allowing two men to have you like this out in the open.” 

You whimper and nod, eyes flooding with tears as Joel shoves himself deeper. Spit and precome trickle down from where his cock stretches your lips. 

“Fuckin’ filthy,” Jack says giving himself a firm squeeze before swiping his palm over the head of his cock. With his other hand, he follows the contour of your leg, reaches all the way to your hip. “You’re ‘bout to feel much fuller.” 

He shoves himself inside you with a single thrust; your channel tightens around him, a moan escaping your throat. Your mouth is pulled away from Joel briefly, gasping for air, before he pulls you back. He adjusts his hips and slides back into your mouth, kneading the back of your neck.

“You feel that? How hot and wet you are? Both of us stretching you?” Jack's voice is gruff as he thrusts into you; your eyes close as pleasure radiates through your body, your skin left tingling. You can hear Joel moan and pant in the background, his cock throbs above your tongue and you hollow out your cheeks.

Your eyes flutter as Jack's cock glides in and out of you; his plunges getting deeper with every thrust. You feel overwhelmed by both of them. You’re left breathless and spinning. You feel only them and nothing else. 

You grip onto Joel to keep yourself teetered to the moment as Jack's movements become more desperate, Joel matching him thrust for thrust. With each gasp, Joel's cock slides further down your throat. 

The tightness inside your body grows; waves of pleasure cascade through you. The pressure builds and builds and builds—You’re so close you can taste it. Jack presses a palm over your mound, adding pressure as he draws quick and tight circles around your clit. Your throat convulses around Joel’s cock and he pulls out, his length resting comfortably above your lips. You breathe heavily against him, his cock slick and warm on your skin. 

“Atta girl,” he coos. “Just a bit more. . . Show us how pretty you look when you come.” 

You feel the pressure between your legs mounting with each hard thrust from Jack, your moans becoming louder and more desperate. Joel encourages Jack to go faster, and with each plunge you feel the tension in your core build higher and higher. 

And finally the coil snaps. 

Your whole body trembles and shakes. Your orgasm still rolling over your body like a violent wave. Jack pumps his hips into yours as he digs his hands into your hips. He keeps thrusting relentlessly, pushing himself as far in as he can before he pulls out. His jaw goes slack, cock gliding over your mound, he spills over your skin. You shudder at the trickle of his seed. 

Joel’s cock slides across your lips, teasing you. Your tongue darts out and quickly wraps around him, you tilt your head to take in all of his length. You push your mouth onto him, bobbing your head up and down until he groans. His hips buck erratically and at the same time you feel the touch of Jack’s mouth against the side of your neck. 

You swallow everything that he offers you, savoring every moment of the taste of him. You stay close to him until his breathing returns to normal, his thighs shaking underneath you as he pulls out. 

“Holy shit,” Jack chokes out as he collapses on top of you, head right above your chest. Joel wipes the sole tear that had escaped you eye and smiles. You bring his palm to your lips and kiss the rough skin. 

“It’s going to be hard walking away from all of this,” you whisper, shuddering when Jack’s mouth moves against the side of your breasts. 

“Who says you have to walk away?” 

You don’t have it in you to go into the details of your life and how you have to go. Or entertain the idea that maybe the things that you thought were important aren’t as essential that you thought after all. It’s pure chaos and right now all you want is to feel their warmth against your bare skin under the stars. 

For now, you are content and feeling grateful for the two amazing men who coincidentally made themselves an inseparable part of your life.