#mixing with a feeling of disgust and sickness

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

L Lawliet x Reader: how L handles pregnancy

Wrote this because I need fluff! Enjoy!

Lets get one thing straight, L would never expect himself to be a father

He's too busy

He's too closed off

He's too much of a target

But, on the other hand, he thought the same exact things about dating before he met you

And all you've done is bring him more joy and peace than he's ever experienced

On the other other hand, babies were entirely different

He couldn't find himself growing attached to a clump of cells, or a screaming raisin with hands

They were a lot of work, and while he had plenty of free time when he wasn't working, when he was he had to be able to devote himself to it completely

They also were loud, and smelly, and entirely uninteresting

But...you did want one very badly. He's not stupid, he can see how you look at toddlers on the street, or ads for baby bottles, or women pushing strollers

It was something you gave up in silence when you committed yourself to him, along with things such as weddings, and settling in one spot, and seeing your family often

All of that to say, his narrow success with the kira case has given him much to think about considering what he wants, what you want, and the value of his own life

He could have died

He could have died.

And what would you be left with? He didn't give you very many options, he's accidently turned you into quite the dependant person

it was the day he sentenced Light Yagami and all of his accomplices to death that he set up a will concerning everything to do with you, essentially setting you up for life. You don't know about this.

Weeks later, something that almost seems like fate strikes. You come to him, nervous, holding a pregnancy test.

You didn't want to alarm him, but your period was late, and most recently you've been experiencing morning sickness.

Turns out you're pregnant, about 4 weeks given the symptoms.

Now, you were standing in the doorway of the bathroom, test in hand, wide-eyed. He can't tell what it is, fear or excitement, or a mix of the two, but you're looking to him for solutions

"L...look..."

"What do I do?"

It's the first time he's been at a true loss for words.

It was a very good question.

What do you do?

"What would you like to do?"

He knew it wasn't that simple, but it would be nice to know your thoughts

"I...I don't know..."

"Would you..." he almost didn't want to ask

"Would you like to keep it?"

And then you were crying

it took quite a while to calm you down

But after a good, long talk, it was decided

You would keep the child

He doesn't know why he agreed or offered

He doesn't find himself to be good with kids

Maybe it was because he wanted something other than cases to do

Maybe it was because he wanted you to be happy

Either way, it wasn't a particularly good reason

In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have agreed so easily

no matter what, he was now determined to at minimum be well-read

you found that within a week, he was bombarding you with facts and questions

"Did you know ginger tea is extremely helpful with nausea? Would you like to try it?"

"The fetus should be about the size of a grain of rice, if we've calculated correctly."

"Are you feeling any tenderness around your breasts, or any mood swings?"

by the second month, he's asking questions you couldn't possibly answer

"How often did your mother pump breast milk? It would be useful to know about any aunts or cousins as well."

"They say a woman's intuition is the best tell of a baby's gender. I'm not one for superstition, but...do you have any feeling one way or the other?"

"It should be about the size of a raspberry by now."

As endearing as it was, his excitement could get a little tiring, especially when these questions were asked at 12 in the morning

That said, he more than made up for it with his patience

every time you rushed to the bathroom to throw up, he was padding after you to hold your hair and rub soothing circles across your back

Every time you had the oddest, frankly disgusting cravings, he was there to bring you pickles wrapped in ham and pepper jack cheese, or fill the sink with dishsoap so you could obsess over the smell while you ate ice

every time you sobbed over the fact that the puppies in the adoption commercials were "too cute to live in a place like this," he was there to run his fingers through your hair and assure you that puppies don't understand social injustice

he, to his own surprise, enjoys watching your belly grow, and your body change to accommodate the life inside

He swears you're glowing

In his own head, of course

He's also keeps you on a very strict schedule

at least 9 hours of sleep, three meals a day, all with the proper vitamins and proteins to support your health

You swear he worries too much, which he quickly bites back with a cool, "many things can happen during pregnancy. We must keep our odds high."

he's made part of his routine resting his head on your stomach every night before bed, with the excuse that he enjoys your fingers on his scalp

To his surprise, about 4 months in, he feels something

Like a little push, tiny and right against his face

"Oh, the baby kicked," you cooed

"Fascinating..."

Ever since then, he's kept his hand or face on you any time you sit down

When the gender reveal comes, you don't have anyone to celebrate with, besides Watari

You decide to do a cake reveal just between you and L

"What do you want? A boy, or a girl?"

"I want a baby."

Typical of him

You let him do the slicing, and at the first peek of blue, you were already screaming

"It's a boy! L, its a boy! We're having a baby boy!"

L knows you well enough to know either sex would have the exact same reaction

Despite his indifference, the reveal does solidify how real it all is

He would have a son

His son, baking inside of you, right now

It's jarring to think about

months later, 5 to be exact, L was rather nervous

"Do birth defects run in your family?"

"C-sections?"

"Have you been hydrating properly?"

You have to reassure him every time that things will be okay

It's best to distract him with questions of your own

"Do you think he'll have your eyes?"

"What should we name him?"

"I bet he'll be just as curious as you are."

The night your contractions start is the night he finally gets to put everything he learned to use

He and watari take you to the nearest hospital, go-bag and carseat already loaded, all while you pant and moan about the pain

Getting you settled in the hospital was the easiest part, luckily they had an available room

The hard part was watching someone he loved go through so much pain

The total time you spent in labor was 12 hours

L held your hand all the way through, even if he's sure you probably broke one of his fingers

"I read breathing slowly is helpful with-"

"SHUT UP, I'M PUSHING A GODDAMN WATERMELON OUT OF MY CUNT"

Needless to say, you didn't really care about facts while in active labor

When the baby finally escaped, L made sure he was handed to you as soon as possible, after all skin to skin contact is highly important for bonding

It was covered in blood and gunk and all other things, by any objective view it was utterly disgusting

But the moment it was cradled against your chest, all wrinkled and small and helpless...

He felt overwhelmed with more love than he's ever felt before

Pure, unending love

Somehow, there was a creature on this earth he loved more than you

When it was finally time for the baby to be taken for cleaning and check-up, he only sat beside you, still holding your hand, quietly waiting for his son to return

"L...we have a baby..."

"We do."

"How do you feel?"

"How do you feel?"

"...answer the damn question, I just gave birth."

"I'm worried for the future. But hopeful, as well."

When the baby finally returns, and he's offered the chance to hold him, he panics, just a little

What if he drops him?

He has to support the head

Remember to support the head

And the body as well

And don't hold him too tight

Or too loose

It isn't until he's actually in his arms that L can relax

Just a tiny thing, with a mess of black hair at the top of his coconut head

And when his son opens his big, black eyes?

L will do anything and everything for this child

For his son

[earthsparked]

Unsurprisingly, Rung’s the first one to notice.

When Rodimus announced the Lost Light would be bringing on a cohort of humans as some kind of security advisors, or something, the mechs had responded in various ways. Mutters of resignation, irritation, curiosity. Whirl had been…Whirl.

We probably shouldn’t leave the humans alone with him, the ship’s psychiatrist had worried, the third time the mech had made one of the organics freak out with his jokes (“jokes”) about squishies, about the various graphic ways their entrails would gum up his inner workings. Half the poor dears outright disliked the mech, and many of the others were understandably terrified of him. What else were they supposed to think, when his only interactions with them were threatening to some degree or other?

So when every mech’s EM field tightened with concern one day in Swerve’s, watching as an overcharged Whirl swaggered up to where the newest member of their organic crew was chatting with Rewind, Rung vented softly and expected more of the same.

Only -

You blinked at the rather direct, messy threats coming your way by the big blue flier the others had warned you about. And chuckled.

You’re forgetting the bones. You guys always forget the bones.

The slag does THAT mean, squishy?

A knock of your knuckles on the table, as Swerve keeps cleaning the same glass over and over, watching this go down, clearly about to ask Ultra Magnus to intervene the second this crosses the line…

You laugh outright under the glaring optic. See, right there. We’re not just viscera. We have an internal bone structure! So when you step on me, it’s not going to be a squish. Not just a squish, anyway. More like a CRUNCH, and a gooey ooze, and some screaming of course. Then a drip, drip, drip -

You dip your fingers in your drink and let drops of it patter to the table, in imitation of that red fluid that is and isn’t like energon at all.

Whirl just…stares. You smile at him, earnest, a little playful. You know what you’re doing, clearly, but there’s nothing cruel to it. Your strange, alien, yet strikingly comparable EM field - which you supposedly can’t even sense, how odd - is as open and straightforward as any he’s encountered. You’re engaging. With Whirl.

Neurodivergent, your mental health records had said when he’d looked them over. He’s no xenopsychiatrist, he’d protested to Rodimus, but after being pushed into reading your species’ own research he has to admit the similarities between your kind and his are so striking, nearly unsettlingly so…

He can’t help thinking, what a lovely word the humans had made.

That differences exist and minds diverge, and it’s not wrong. It’s not stigmatized - or shouldn’t be, the humans say. It could make an old mech like him reminisce on the horrors of Functionalism, the crimes of their past…compared to that lovely word, neurodivergent.

So he knows that Whirl is being confronted by a species, or at least one member of a species, who diverges. Who sees differences as something to embrace. You’re still smiling up at Whirl as he snaps out some further defensive threats, but Rung sees it. Hears it. Wonders at it.

Fine, you can be Crunchy, he snarks, and after a few more vague insults, goes to pick a fight with someone more his size.

You make a face and try to explain as he turns away that Actually “crunchy” has a certain connotation in my society, and I’m definitely not “crunchy.” Uh, but I guess I’ve had worse nicknames. Bye, Whirl! you call, unperturbed. Nice meeting you! I like how blue you are by the way!

Do you realize that you’ve managed to get under the fractious mech’s plating?

Do you see the way Whirl looks over his shoulder as he’s finally getting dragged off to the brig for starting another fight - looking to see if you’d been watching? The same way he tosses out a joke, Hey Eyebrows - looking for a reaction.

Rung sees it, and nurses his drink, and wonders what might happen if he slips a datapad to you about empurata.

[classyrbf]

THIEF IN THE NIGHT! — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...toji broke into your house hoping to steal some jewelry or even find some cash, something quick and easy to make his escape with. But when he found he you in your bedroom, cute panties on, tank top slipping off your shoulders, he knew right then and there he found something much more valuable

INFO...thief!toji x fem!reader, we jumping straight into it, dark content, dub con, fantasy roleplay between toji and reader, reader is sick and twisted just like toji, reader referred to as ‘fleshlight’, rough sex, choking, degradation, finger sucking, hair pulling, toji wearing a ski mask, doggy, full nelson, creampie, reader almost passed out, squirting, free use (?), name calling, anal, spit kink, fucking you in a headlock, a lot of really disgusting shit bc why not, freaky asf y’all pls be warned, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

“Nnngh! Ah! Ah! Fuck!” You scream into the mattress, your panties ripped and discarded on the floor. His large hand presses your face into the mattress, brutally thrusting into your poor cunt, his dick splitting your open. “Oh my god!” You scream, gripping the wrinkled sheets below you.

“Tight little cunt keeps sucking me right back in,” he cockily smirks, his fingers threading through your hair, harshly pulling your head back. The fabric of his ski mask brushes against your cheek, his heavy breaths hitting your skin. His hips snap against yours, each thrust jolting you forward, the bed creaking under your weight. “You wanna get fucked stupid, don’t you? You’re nothing but a whore. Letting some strange man in a mask fuck you…how pathetic. Did you need to get fucked that bad, huh? Huh?” He mocks you, plunging his fingers in your mouth and pushing them down your throat.

Your eyes are rolling into the back of your skull, barely able to hold yourself up. Your legs are weak, his thick cock plunging in and out of your leaking cunt. You should be terrified, not turned on, not ready to cum, not dripping wet when you think about his cock down your throat . Maybe you really are a slut. You are. You are and you know it. Toji pulls his fingers from your mouth, his hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing it. The last thing he expects you to do is smile, a mix between giggles and moans leaving your lips. You’re twisted, but fuck does it make his cock throb. “Nasty bitch,” he groans in your ear, choking you harder.

“Mmmm, fuck!” Your teeth catch your lower lip, what feels like electricity shoots through your body, your skin feels like it’s on fire. “Use me. Use me, please,” you whimper, nodding your head at him as if he needed any confirmation to do anything to you. Quickly, he pulls you off his cock, tossing you on the bed like rag doll. His broad chest heaves up and down, staring at your limp and sweaty body, your tank top still halfway on. “Done already? I said fucking use me!” You taunt him. “Come on and fuck me. Fuck me or I’ll do it myself while you watch—”

His hand wraps around your throat again, quickly shutting you up. “Shut the fuck up,” he growls. “Wanna get fucked? Right?” He easily tosses you around, pulling you on top of him. He laughs, “don’t fight me now, no, no. I’ll fucking break you.” His arms hook under your knees, pushing your legs so far back that he’s able to lock his hands behind your head. “Can’t get away now.” He angles his cock towards your entrance, positioning you just right as his bulbous head pushes past your folds.

He starts bucking his hips into your poor cunt, bullying each inch inside without remorse. You can’t help but watch his cock reappear and disappear inside of you. “Ah, ah, yes, yes! Fuckkkkk!” Your eyes are rolling back again, his cock pushing up against your sweet spot over and over, dragging against your g-spot. Your pussy squelches around him, juices dripping down his shaft, only making it easier for him to fuck you at such a grueling pace.

“Look at you, can barely talk. So drunk on my cock like a fucking whore.” He sucks in a breath, growling when your pussy clenches around him. He frees one of his hands, reaching down to rub your neglected clit in messy circles.

“Ahhh!” You scream, hips jolting at the added pleasure that makes your toes curl. “Shit, shit, shit!” Stumbles from your mouth, it’s all you can say before you’re squirting all over his cock. Clearly gushes from your cunt, body quivering in his hold. His pace doesn’t falter, still unforgiving and ruthless.

“That right, squirt all over that fucking cock.” He continues to rub your clit, dragging out your orgasm and turning your brain into complete mush. “Wanted me to use you, right? Don’t start crying now.” He huffs, sweat clinging to his skin. He feels that spongy spot inside you, purposely rubbing and thrusting into it, the way you’re crying out is like music to his ears.

“It’s so deeep! Oh my god I’m gonna fucking squirt again!” You’re barely able to catch your breath, body shaking once more as your pussy gushes, soaking Toji’s thighs and your bedsheets. “Nghhh, yes!” You wickedly smile, entranced by how his dick pumps in and out of you.

Suddenly, he pulls out of you, pushing flat onto your stomach. His rough hands, grope your ass, spreading it. He gathers his spit, letting it slowly drip from his mouth and right onto your asshole, rubbing it in with his thumb. “Gonna use this pretty little ass all I want.” He smacks your has hard, the sound echoing off your bedroom walls. “Get her all nice and wet. Spread your ass for me.” He orders, and you listen without a second thought. His spit drops on your ass again, smearing it in more. “I ain’t gonna be fucking nice, so cry and scream all you want, I don’t fucking care.” His swollen head prods against your tight hole, pushing against it.

A pained sigh escaped your throat, feeling him stretch you open. “Ah!” You hiss, your face scrunching up. His spits once more, rubbing his tip against your hole before trying again. Once his head pushes through that’s all he needs to slam his cock right into you. “Owwahh,” you cry, gripping the sheets below you, trying to get used to unfamiliar feeling.

“Shut up.” His bicep wraps around your head, essentially putting you in headlock while he fucked you. His hips pressed up against your ass, yet again no remorse in his actions. “Keep your ass spread,” he barks in your ear, gritting his teeth. He chokes you harder, feeling warm drool spill from your mouth and onto his arm. “What a perfect little fleshlight you are,” He lets out a breathy chuckle.

As his cock pistons and out of your ass, your vision slowly starts to fade, on the verge of passing out. You’re barely staying awake, wanting to feel every millisecond of pleasure, greedy to cum and feel every thick inch of his cock. He takes quick notice, watch how your eyes roll back on their own and your body falls limp without you making a sound, he loosens his grip a bit, allowing to breathe. “Don’t you fucking pass out on me.” He smacks your cheek a few times. “Keep that ass spread no matter what!”

Your eyes shoot open, choked out moans barely escaping. Your poor pussy is throbbing, needy for some attention but god does getting fucked in your ass almost feel just as good. Your nails claw at his forearm, needing to grab at anything just to feel some type of stability from his ravaging thrusts. The familiar feeling begins to build up in the pit of your stomach, making it harder to hold back. Are you really going to squirt from getting fucked in the ass? Yes. Once again you’re shaking underneath him, your juices soaking your bedsheets below.

He lets out a good laugh, seeing your cunt clench around nothing as you cum. “Look at that, cumming from getting fucked in the ass…dirty slut.” He removes his arm from around your head, your screams and moans more audible as your face falls into the mattress. “That’s right, fucking scream.” He pushes your head down, baring his teeth while he fucks you like a wild animal.

“Please! Please!” You don’t even know what you’re begging for, your mind is scrambled, high off lust. Maybe you were begging for him to fuck your cunt again. You weren’t quite sure. All you know is that you needed him, needed his cock. It’s what consumed you right now. “Please, put it back in my pussy! Oh god!”

In one swift movement he flipped you onto your back, slipping his cock from inside you. “Beg. Beg like you fucking mean it.” He holds your hands above your head, running his cock up and down between your folds, nudging against your swollen clit.

“Nnngh, please put it inside my pussy again. I wanna feel you, I wanna feel your thick cock inside me, stretching me. I need you to cum in me, fill me up completely. Ruin me.” Those last two words were all he needed to hear from your pretty lips. His cock filled you up all once, earning a cry from you. He began moving at a rapid speed, hands latching onto your hips, pulling you onto his cock. You looked up at him through thick lashes, fighting the urge to pull his mask off and see who was really under there, but you didn’t. “Kiss me,” you said barely above a whisper.

His lips crashed onto yours, hungry, messy, needy, sloppy. Your tongues swiped against each other, pulling back and lolling out your tongue for him to spit on. He gladly did so before pulling you back in for the kiss, biting at your lower lip. His thrusts grew sloppier with more need, his orgasm approaching quicker than he anticipated. “Ohhhh, fuckkkk,” he drawled, focusing on the way your wet cunt squeezed around him. He quickly pushed your legs back, mounting you and putting you into a mating press, an optimal position for creampies. “Take all this fucking cum,” he snarled, slamming his hips into you one last time before his spurts of his cum painted your walls.

“Yes!” You smiled, giggling as you watch his head fall forward, his abs flexing and body twitching the longer it lasted. You gasped, “I can still feel it going.” A lazy smile tugged at the corner of your lips, jaw falling slack when he slowly pulled out of you. Heavy breathing heard from you both, the smell of sex and sweat in the air.

He watched as it slowly dripped down your ass, almost like he was signing a piece of his artwork. “Desperate fucking whore.” He grabbed your jaw, glaring at you. “If you tell anyone about this, I swear.” He warned.

“Swear what? That you’ll fuck me stupid again?” You teased, unafraid of what he may actually be capable of. “If so, please do.”

“You’re fucking twisted,” he responded. There was few seconds of silence before he spoke again, “but god, do I fucking love it.”

feel free to support me <3

[pythonmoth]

cw: violence. torture. waterboarding. hurt/no comfort.

> i haven't written in a long time. it's good to be back.

× framed traitor f!reader x lt ghost. poly tf141.

Part 1

Traitor.

That's what Price thinks as Simon and Soap drag you from the table, nearly choking on your food as they give you no time to understand what's going on.

Alarms ring in your ears as you force the piece of stale bread down your throat, trying to stand on your feet but they're taller than you, so your feet end up dangling, useless. You take a deep breath, your voice shaking as much as you are.

"What's going on? Is this some kind of sick joke?", you ask, looking at Simon, desperate to find an explanation for this other than the anger and torment in his eyes.

Simon doesn't answer. Nobody does. Soap's grip tightens, but he doesn't say anything, his expression hard.

No.

No.

You can tell they are not joking when you realize they're taking you downstairs. Sweat rolls down your face, fear creeping from the base of your neck to your toes, making you snap. You beg them to tell you what's going on, to explain why you're being dragged down there. You kick and struggle, a sob ripped deep from your chest as you start screaming, begging for a reaction. And then, pain.

Tears fill your eyes when it's Simon who hits your stomach with his fist, effectively shutting you up. You can smell the blood from past tortures mixed with bleach, and, distantly, the scent of forgotten wet rags. There's something salty in the air, and that's when you freeze, the pain in your stomach becoming nothing compared to the fear that grows in your chest.

They know you.

You've been with them for nine years. They know your fears.

"No. No. Please. Simon, Johnny— Please, please, please" you beg, sobbing as you can't do anything but go limp and heavy in their grip, doing the best you can to keep them from tying you to the chair. But it's useless.

Stars and colors dance behind your eyes as a fist connects with the side of your chin. You wonder if it would be better if they made you pass out right now. Maybe if you bite your tongue, it could—

"Gag her" Price tells them.

He's trained you for nine years.

He knows you.

You try to bite down on Johnny's fingers as he stuffs your mouth with an old rag, but it's difficult when your senses are unfocused after such a hard punch. The rag wet and disgusting, the scent and the taste making you sob again, shaking your head, your eyes big as you look at Simon.

Please.

Then a wet rag is pressed to your face. You inhale sharply as cold buckets of salty water are dropped right on your face, the cloth making it impossible for you to breathe. Salty water fills your lungs, making you choke and cough around the gagging rag.

You can hear questions, accusations, but you're paralized with fear, with pain and grief.

Grief.

They've been your friends, your family for so long. It's impossible to tell if you'll live through this. It's impossible for you to think of them as anything but monsters.

You know they usually did this with traitors, with enemies when it was necessary.

And you know they never enjoy it.

You've scolded Simon for smoking so late at night, you've had so many drinks next to him when he can't even speak. Simon often flinches awake from nightmares, startling you and then sharing quiet nights side to side.

You know this.

But then Simon hits your face again, taking the rag out of your mouth, and you can't find the love you have for him. It's expelled from your body with each hard cough, with each drop of blood falling from your nose.

"Did you not hear me?" Price demands, his arms crossed. "I'll ask one more time, then."

Smack.

Your chest is heaving, the fear so paralizing you can't even feel each punch as much as you should.

"What did you tell them?" Price continues, not looking one bit anxious for you to answer. He stands in front of you, his feet dry despite the salt burning your lungs.

"I don't know what you're talking about" you manage, looking up at Price, your eyes wide and bloodshot.

With a hard yank on your hair until your head is thrown back again, you're gagged once more, and the rag is pressed to your face. The salty water keeps on filling your lungs, unable to breathe, unable to cough around the gag.

You can't say anything. You truly don't know shit.

Hours later, when it becomes clear you won't speak, Price kicks you across the chest, hard, and the chair flips back.

You're tied up to the chair, exhausted and wet, your lungs burning with salt.

Memories of you as a child, nearly drown to death by your cousins, fill your mind. It had been a good day, until it wasn't.

Simon had held you when you told him, kissed you, and tucked you in for a good night sleep.

Johnny managed to make you crackle when you told him, patting your head, and saying your cousin had awful skills.

Now, there's nothing. Nothing but pain, and the burning in your lungs.

The door springs open, and the three men leave.

Only then do you close your eyes, passing out.

Masterlist | Part 2

buy me a coffee

[kthologue]

head over heels – jason todd

synopsis. jason todd is smitten and everyone is tired of it 

contents. fluff, ooc?, so much banter and pining its painful, like can they just kiss already

notes. short moments i had written but decided to combine into one fic. maybe i'll make a pt 2. not proofread...

There have only been a few occasions where Jason’s family has seen him smile. And even then, it was usually a sick smirk as he wreaked havoc on his enemies. So, imagine their shock when they watch their brooding, battle-hardened brother smile at you, of all people.

You.

His sworn enemy. A dramatic title, sure, but fitting. Ever since the two of you met, you had butted heads at every opportunity. Your strong personalities clashed and neither of you were willing to back down. In fact, you had become a fixture in each other’s lives. Two forces of nature neither could ignore.

And right now, the storm was brewing once again.

"You were in my territory again, asshole!" You jab a finger into his chest, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him.

Jason scoffs, arms crossing as he looms over you. "Your territory? Last time I checked, Bruce took it away after that drug ring went out of control. Don't think you can handle it alone, sweetheart."

Your jaw drops. "Excuse me?!" Your voice pitches up, outrage and disbelief mixing together as your hands curl into fists at your sides.

On the sidelines, Dick nudges Damian toward the exit of the Batcave. "We should go before it gets violent."

"That, or they're finally going to kiss," Tim mutters, eyes glued to the scene. It’s like watching a car crash– horrific, yet impossible to look away from.

Jason doesn’t acknowledge them. He’s too busy watching you, his entire focus drawn to the way your face contorts in frustration, how your lips part as you struggle for a retort.

"You heard me," Jason says, tilting his head slightly, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "You were wounded when we found you. Wounded, and alone."

You huff, crossing your arms as if that could protect you from the memory. "I was fine."

Jason gives an exasperated laugh, running a hand through his hair. "You call a gunshot wound fine?"

"Just a gunshot wound," you correct, jaw tightening. "Nothing new around here."

"Just a gunshot wound?!" Jason repeats, incredulous. "I had to carry your stubborn ass out of there!"

"I didn't ask you to!"

Jason exhales sharply through his nose, nostrils flaring. "Yeah, well, it’s not like I wasn’t going to!"

The argument should feel tense. But instead, there's a crackling undercurrent, something unspoken lingering in the space between you.

What you don’t see, what everyone else in the Cave does is the way Jason is looking at you. Not with his usual scowl, not with the biting irritation that fuels your bickering, but something softer. 

A smile ghosts across his lips. It’s subtle, but there nonetheless. Like a cat discreetly preening under attention, soaking in every word, every ounce of energy you throw his way.

And the moment his siblings notice, chaos erupts.

“Holy shit,” Tim whispers, eyes wide.

Dick sucks in a breath like he’s just witnessed something forbidden.

Damian, ever the blunt one, sneers. "Disgusting."

Jason barely notices. He’s too busy watching you, fighting the way his lips twitch up again as you huff and look away, cheeks a little warmer than before.

“You are absolutely insufferable, Todd.”

His smile widens, “You know you love it.”

Turns out, you and Jason can't even be within a fifty mile radius of each other without making everyone around you feel strangely uncomfortable.

Dick makes a mental note to never let the two of you spar again. At least, not with an audience. Whenever you and Jason were in the same space, the rest of the world might as well not exist. And the tension. It was painfully suffocating.

The Batcave was dead silent except for the sound of heavy breathing and the sharp clash of fists meeting blocks. Everyone had been watching for the past twenty minutes as you and Jason fought, your movements sharp and teetering between training and an actual fight.

To be fair, no one expected the two of you to take it easy on each other. You never had before.

Jason wiped his mouth with the back of his hand after you landed a solid hit to his jaw. Instead of being pissed, though, he grinned. It was a dangerous thing that made your stomach do an annoying little flip.

"Not bad," he admitted, rolling his shoulders.

You smirked. "Starting to sound impressed, Todd."

Jason lunged, and before you could dodge, he swept your legs out from under you. You barely had time to brace yourself before your back hit the mat, the air leaving your lungs in a sharp exhale. In the next second, Jason was above you, his body caging you in, pinning your wrists down on either side of your head.

And suddenly, everything felt different.

The heat between you wasn’t just from exertion anymore. The way he was looking at you with his weight pressing down just enough to make your breath catch, it wasn’t just about winning a fight.

"Not starting to," Jason murmured, voice lower now, more serious. "I’ve been impressed."

Your throat went dry.

You could feel everyone’s eyes on you, but you didn’t dare look away from Jason. His pupils were blown wide, chest rising and falling against yours, and… 

Oh. Oh no.

He was smiling. And it wasn't a smirk. It was a real, genuine smile.

And worst of all, you found yourself smiling back.

The two of you stayed locked in a daze until you heard a cough in the background, a sharp reminder that the two of you were not alone. It knocks you out of your trance.

You take his short moment of weakness to headbutt him, leaving the male in a daze. Without wasting the split second advantage, it was your turn to pin him down.

“I guess I could say the same for you,” you shrug. “Could be better, but satisfactory.”

Jason groans at the impact of your forehead on his, “Has anyone ever told you that you have a hard head?”

“Yeah,” you snort, looking down at Jason. “You.”

Jason lets out a breathy chuckle beneath you, eyes still unfocused from the headbutt. "Yeah, well. Doesn't make it any less annoying."

You shift slightly, keeping his wrists pinned to the mat, and his grip tightens under your hands. It was instinctual, a sign that he isn’t actually letting you win. His chest rises and falls beneath yours, warm despite the cool air of the cave.

And then, there it is again. That rare, infuriatingly soft smile that no one ever sees.

You freeze for half a second. It’s barely noticeable, but Jason doesn’t miss a thing. His smirk stretches just a little wider, eyes gleaming in that way that makes your stomach twist.

"What?" he drawls, voice lower now, amused. "Distracted?"

You shove off him with a huff, standing up as fast as possible. Jason barely has time to react before you're already a few steps away, arms crossed, pretending like that moment didn’t just happen.

But Jason is still on the ground, propped up on his elbows, looking far too pleased with himself.

Dick, who had been trying very hard to mind his business, sighs dramatically. "For the love of God, just kiss already."

You whip around, glaring. "Gross! Nobody asked you, Grayson!"

Jason, still grinning like an idiot, finally hauls himself to his feet, rubbing the spot on his forehead where you hit him. "Y'know, for someone who acts like they hate me, you sure do love touching me."

You glare at him for enabling their behavior. "That's not true, and you know it."

Jason steps closer, slow, deliberate. Not enough to be threatening, but enough that the air between you tense again. Enough that you feel the heat radiating off him.

He’s still smiling.

Your breath catches.

Jason tilts his head. "Something wrong?"

You curse under your breath, shove past him, and stomp out of the Batcave without another word.

Jason watches you go, still rubbing his forehead, still smiling.

Tim exhales, shaking his head. "That was painful to watch."

Jason just chuckles. "Yeah," he mutters to himself, grin still lingering. "It was."

2 a.m. stakeouts were the worst.

It was cold and boring, the kind of hours that made you question why you even did this hero thing in the first place. To make matters worse, you were stuck on patrol with Jason, so there was no semblance of peace in the quiet Gotham night.

By the time you and Jason finally wrapped up surveillance, both of you were starving. There wasn’t a debate about it, just a silent agreement as he gunned his motorcycle toward a late-night diner on the outskirts of Gotham.

Now, you were sitting across from him in a vinyl booth, watching in mild horror as he absolutely demolished a double bacon cheeseburger.

"You eat like you just got out of prison," you observed, idly stirring your milkshake with a straw.

Jason wiped his mouth with a napkin, raising an eyebrow. "And?"

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your shake. "Nothing. Just surprised you have manners at all."

Jason chuckled, low and warm, shaking his head. And then, before you could process it, there it was again.

That damn smile. It was the kind of expression no one ever saw on him. The kind of smile that didn’t belong to Gotham’s deadliest vigilante.

The kind of smile that, apparently, only appeared when he was with you.

You felt your pulse stutter in your throat, caught completely off guard.

Jason must’ve noticed, because his smirk returned instantly, cocking his head, surging with a newfound sense of confidence. And you're not sure if you like that. "Like what you see?"

Your mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. "You wish."

Jason leaned back against the booth, arms stretching over the seat as he regarded you with amusement. "Yeah," he said, way too casually, "I do."

You nearly choked on your fries, “Geez, Todd. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were flirting with me.”

Jason raises an eyebrow.

“And if I was?”

“I would have to check to see where the real Jason is.”

“He’s right here.”

You eye him suspiciously. 

Jason watches you carefully, his smirk still in place but not as sharp, not as mocking. There’s something else there. It’s something you can’t quite place, something that makes your pulse stutter.

"You’re acting weird," you say, pointing a fry at him. "Where’s all the unnecessary aggression? The brooding?"

Jason exhales, shaking his head. "Maybe I just don’t feel like fighting tonight."

You raise a brow, popping the fry into your mouth. "That’s a first."

He leans back against the booth, arms stretching lazily over the seat, but there’s tension in his shoulders, in his fingers tapping idly against the vinyl. "Yeah, well," he muses, eyes flicking to you, "arguing with you is exhausting."

"You love arguing with me," you counter easily, leaning back to mirror his posture. "You start half of them."

Jason hums, tilting his head as if considering it. "Maybe," he allows. Then, after a beat, "Maybe I just like getting a rise out of you."

Your breath catches for half a second. 

Jason’s watching you now, really watching you, his gaze too steady, too knowing.

You force a scoff. "So what I’m hearing is, you’re an instigator."

Jason grins at that, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "You always read too much into things," he says, but there’s no real bite to it. If anything, he almost sounds amused.

Your stomach twists uncomfortably. You blame the fries.

Silence stretches between you, not awkward, but charged. There’s an awareness now, a shift in the air, like something unspoken lingers just beneath the surface.

Jason looks at you, and for the first time tonight, his smirk fades—not completely, but just enough.

Just enough that the teasing falls away. Just enough that you catch a glimpse of something softer.

Something terrifying.

You don’t know who looks away first, but when you do, your heart is hammering a little too hard against your ribs.

Jason clears his throat, reaching for his drink. "So," he says, back to casual, back to easy, "you gonna finish your fries or what?"

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you push the basket toward him. "Knock yourself out, tough guy."

Jason takes one, popping it into his mouth. He doesn’t say anything else, but when you glance at him again, there’s that damn smile.

It’s subtle, but it was just for you.

Across the comms, Dick sighs, exasperated but entertained. “Do they have any idea we can all hear them?”

[rongloa]

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 (𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞) — m. grayson drabble

𝐰𝐜. 630

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. doormat behaviour (not really you love him), fluff but it’s barely there, a tiny bit of angst but that’s because i can never be happy

𝐚/𝐧. i think if i knew mark, i would know. and i know it’s not acceptable to let someone walk over you and not tell them why you’re doing it, but he’s going (and been) through a lot. amen my children

You could never tell him that you know.

You act surprised when he runs off mid-conversation, mouth half-open like the girl who doesn’t understand why her newly dubbed boyfriend just vanished behind a fast food joint. You’ve practiced that look in the mirror, just in case. Ran yourself through how a girlfriend that didn’t know would react, even picked your friend’s minds. “How would you react if your boyfriend disappeared on a date?”

Their answers weren’t all that bad, mostly a mix of disgust and frustration— there was a random calm one that had you worried about how she was doing with her boyfriend.

But what would you say, really?

“Hey baby, I’ve known you’re Invincible for months now. I saw the blood on your shirt before you had time to change. I recognized your voice when you saved those people downtown. You leave handprint shaped bruises on my hips and back when you’re exhausted from superhero-ing.”

He’s not good at hiding things. Not from you anyways. Not when you know the way his voice cracks when he’s lying. Not when you’ve memorized the shape of every bruise he forgets to cover.

But still—you let him think he is. If not for your own sanity, then his.

Some days, you almost tell him. You think—this is the moment—when he crawls through your bedroom window because he’s too tired to go home. His hair is windswept, cheeks and nose a flushed red from the biting winter breeze, and because you quite literally watched him fight with his supersuit beside your flowerbed of lillies.

But then he says the thing that makes your heart soften into mush and your resolve to do the big reveal slips through your fingers like air. “I just needed to see you,” he mumbles it into the bare skin of your shoulder, teeth catching the smallest bit on your collarbone. Still trying to smile for you.

You wrap your arms around him like you’re trying to hold in all his jagged pieces. Kiss the side of his head, even though his hair’s sweaty. Feel the way he leans into you, like you’re gravity and he’s tired of orbiting alone. Drag your fingertips along the dips and bumps of his spine like you can stitch him back together.

“I’m right here,” you whisper. I always am.

You always are.

Sometimes, you think he knows. That he’s just waiting for you to say it. Like you’re both holding guns at your sides, fingers resting on triggers you’re too afraid to pull. It’s funny, in a way that makes you sick, how he can take punches from gods and aliens, bleed in space, crash through concrete walls—and yet he flinches at the thought of one human truth, one from a girl who bakes him cookies and kisses his bruises like they’ll fade faster if she means it hard enough.

You’ve seen what this life does to people. You’ve seen blood drip onto your doorstep and gotten calls at 2:00 a.m. that make your heart stop. And still—still—you stay. You pretend to be normal. You laugh when he makes dumb jokes, you hold his hand when his lip is split, and you say you’re okay when he forgets your birthday because he was off-planet. You stay because someone has to, because you don’t think anyone else would. You don’t do it out of pity, out of selfish love.

You are in love with a boy made of breaking points. A boy who holds the sky in his hands and still doesn’t know how to hold you without trembling.

And yet—you don’t break.

One night, he falls asleep with his head in your lap. He’s heavy. Warm. So real, it makes your ribs ache. Those long dark lashes are shadows against his bruised cheekbone, and he sighs in his sleep like he’s letting go of something he doesn’t even know he’s carrying. Like even being a Viltrumite isn’t enough to guarantee forever.

You run your fingers through his hair. Soft, gentle strokes, like turning the pages of a book you’ve read a hundred times but still love. A soft coo, a name that you roll over your tongue like the sweetest brown sugar, “Mark?”

He stirs, lashes fluttering even though his eyes can barely stay open. He hums, gravel-soft.

You nod, even though his eyes are already fluttering closed again. “I love you, baby.”

He smiles, and it’s so soft you feel it in your bones, feel it crack something hidden deep behind your sternum. Then he settles back into the plush of your thighs, trusting you with himself—his love, his secrets, even if he doesn’t know you already carry them all like a second heart.

You don’t need to tell him.

Not yet. Not for a long time yet.

Not when he already does these things that make you feel like you’re the only thing holding him down.

[ama3003]

Silver Springs

Character: Haymitch Abernathy

Requested: No

Type: Angst/ (A bit of Fluff)

Summary: The tragic yet beautiful love story of a District 12 Victor and a Capitol Princess.

Song based fanfiction: Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac

A.N: I haven't read Sunrise on the Reaping, so please, No Spoilers. It's a Female!Reader. Also it's really long lol whoops.

You could be my silver spring Blue-green colors flashin'

Most Capitol kids couldn’t wait for the annual Hunger Games. It was the highlight of the year—dressing up as their favorite tributes, pretending to fight, and cheering on the bloodshed like it was just another sport.

But your family was different. They understood the Games weren’t just about people killing each other. It was the raw, unrelenting violence—too much for children to witness. That’s why your mother and father refused to let you and your younger sister watch, no matter how many times you begged. It was hard, though, knowing your father was one of the arena makers. But even he agreed it was too much for you to see—at least, not yet.

It wasn’t until you were fifteen that you finally saw the Games. Your sister, at thirteen, was still too young in their eyes, but after years of asking, you finally convinced your father to let you watch. Your mother was reluctant, but your father, almost too eager, finally gave in. It was his favorite pastime, after all.

You sat in front of the screen, hesitant, unsure of what to expect. The moment the Games began, you knew you’d made a mistake. The bloodbath at the Cornucopia was enough to turn your stomach.

This wasn’t entertainment. These were children, kids just like you, fighting for their lives. Fighting for survival. The thought of it made you sick. How could anyone watch this, let alone cheer for it?

You hated the Games. Hated how your friends, even your own family, seemed to feed off the violence. The spectacle of it all disgusted you, and for three days, you refused to watch, unable to stomach the brutal chaos. But then, your mother asked you to bring your father a drink—such a simple request, nothing special—until you walked into the room and saw him.

There, on the screen, was a flash of blonde—Haymitch Abernathy, District 12’s tribute. He wasn’t like the others. You could feel it the moment he snapped. The rawness, the desperate anguish in his eyes when his friend died. He wasn’t just surviving the Games. He was broken. And you couldn’t look away.

That was when it happened. A pull, something you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t pity, it wasn’t just sympathy—it was something deeper. His pain, his strength, his defiance against the system, it all drew you in. You found yourself on the edge of your seat, barely breathing, as you watched him fight—not just for survival, but for something far more fragile. Maybe hope. Maybe revenge.

And just like that, you were hooked.

As the days wore on, you found yourself more and more absorbed. Your father noticed, too, but it wasn’t for the reason he thought. It wasn’t because you were becoming one of those Capitol kids, eagerly watching the bloodshed. No, it was because you were clinging to the hope that Haymitch, that broken boy from District 12, might just survive.

You prayed, each day, that he’d make it. You wanted him to win, not because of the Games—but because you couldn’t bear the thought of him becoming just another casualty of the Capitol’s cruel entertainment.

Day six came, and your heart was in your throat. The thought of watching it all unfold was unbearable, but you couldn’t tear yourself away. You needed to know if he made it. Needed to know if he could fight his way out of the nightmare.

And you realized, as the games dragged on, that you weren’t watching to see who’d win—it was because, in that moment, the boy from District 12 was the only thing that kept you from giving up on the Games entirely. The only thing worth watching.

“Father, what are they doing?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of shock and fear as you watched the District 12 pair discuss splitting up.

“There’s only five left, my little star,” your father replied, his voice quiet but firm. “Friends don’t want to hurt each other. All we can do is hope that someone gets to them before they do it to each other.”

Hope? That’s all you could do? Hope that the one you’d been watching—your tribute—wouldn’t die? You couldn’t accept that. The odds weren’t in his favor, but you weren’t about to let that be the end. Not without trying.

“Do you think I could send him something?” The words slipped out before you could stop them. You could feel your heart pounding as you spoke, watching your father’s face change.

He shook his head almost immediately, the lines around his eyes tightening. “You know I don’t do that. Not with my position.”

You hesitated, but the urge to help him was too strong. “I know... but he’s my favorite. It’s my first Games... I just thought... maybe it would be nice to give him something, you know?”

Your hands fidgeted nervously in your lap, betraying how much this meant to you. Your father had always avoided sending gifts to tributes—after all, he helped design the arena, and it was frowned upon for him to interfere. It felt like a long shot, but at this point, anything felt better than doing nothing.

He must have seen the desperation in your face because he stared at you for a long moment, his gaze sharp, searching. “I see what this is.” He raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got a little crush on him, don’t you?” You remained silent.

He sighed, rubbing his temples, and then his expression shifted. “I don’t think that little crush is going to win, my dear,” he said softly, almost gently, but there was a sharpness to his words. “So I think you should start looking at others.”

His words stung, but you couldn’t let it deter you. You needed to get this to him. You could feel your face flush with frustration, but you forced a sad smile. “I know, Dad. But I was just hoping I could give him a toy. Something small. Something that could keep him busy before the end. Every kid deserves to be a kid, at least being that close to death.”

He stared at you, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if he would cave. But then he sighed again, resigned, and nodded. “Alright. What do you want to send him?”

You breathed a sigh of relief and quickly whispered the idea in his ear. You wrote a quick note, and then, with all the sincerity you could muster, you looked up at him. “Please, Dad.”

You gave him your best puppy-dog eyes—the same ones that always made him relent—and he finally rolled his eyes with a playful smirk, defeated.

“Fine. I’ll get it sent,” he muttered before walking out.

You waited, heart in your throat, as the camera panned over to Haymitch, perched alone on a cliff, staring into the distance. He looked like he had given up. His posture was slouched, and his eyes were hollow with defeat. It hurt to see him like that.

But you weren’t giving up. Not yet.

And then, there it was—the parachute. You held your breath as it floated down toward him, delicate and slow, carrying your small offering.

He reached for it, opened the package. Your heart raced as he pulled out the small bouncing ball. He stared at it for a moment, annoyance flashing across his face. Clearly, he was expecting something different. Something more useful.

Then, he unfolded the note and read it:

‘Sometimes things just bounce back out of nowhere. Trust your gut – it’s gotten you this far. I believe in you. – Star’

He scoffed, bouncing the ball on the ground in irritation. This was what sponsors thought he needed? A toy?

He sighed, then threw the ball off the cliff with force, clearly hoping to see it disappear into the abyss.

But then it came back. Bounced. Right back to him.

He froze, staring at the ball in disbelief, then threw it again. This time, with more curiosity. It bounced back. Again.

And again. He caught it, his face shifting from frustration to realization.

Looking back at the note, his eyes narrowed. Trust your gut.

And that’s when it clicked.

It wasn’t just a ball. It was a signal. A clue. There was something there—a forcefield. It was the only explanation.

He took a deep breath, nodding to himself. Maybe the odds weren’t so hopeless after all.

I would be your only dream Your shinin' autumn ocean crashin'

The ballroom hummed with the usual crowd—an ocean of glittering gowns and sharp suits. The air was thick with forced laughter, the kind that never quite reached the eyes.

Haymitch was tucked away in a quiet corner, nursing a drink that was far too strong for his age, trying to drown out the noise.

It was his Victory Tour party—supposed to be a celebration. But Haymitch wasn’t celebrating. He hadn’t asked for this. He hadn’t asked to be here, surrounded by people who didn’t have the slightest clue what he’d endured.

His gaze swept across the room, lingering on the faces—smiles too wide, too perfect. It made his stomach twist. This wasn’t his world. None of it was.

He’d survived the Games, sure, but the real battle felt like it was just beginning. He was already dreading the next few months—endless speeches, the same tired handshakes, pretending he wasn’t counting the minutes until he could escape back to District 12.

Survival had a price. And right now, it felt like a cruel joke.

For the last fifteen minutes, Haymitch had blended into the background, unnoticed by the crowd, their attention elsewhere. For once, he didn’t feel like a spectacle. But then—tap. A hand on his shoulder.

Instincts kicked in. He grabbed the wrist before he even realized what he was doing, his fingers tightening around it. When he looked up, ready to snap, he froze.

There you were—standing there, a nervous little smile on your lips, already looking like you regretted interrupting him. And something in your eyes made him pause.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice soft, almost apologetic. “That was really stupid. I hate when people touch me, and I figured… well, I guess I didn’t figure... after everything you’ve been through, you’d probably hate it too.”

He stared at you for a moment, still holding your wrist, but slowly let go, his fingers relaxing. You weren’t demanding anything. You weren’t fawning over him like everyone else. You weren’t telling him how amazing he was for surviving the Games, or how lucky he should feel to be here in the Capitol. You just seemed... real.

You stepped back, folding your arms behind your back, unsure of what to do next. An awkward silence stretched between you until you spoke again.

“I just wanted to introduce myself.” You held out your hand. “I’m Y/N.”

Haymitch stared at your hand for a moment. He hesitated, but there was something about you that made him push aside his usual cynicism, if only for a second. He took your hand, his grip a little rough, a little unsure.

“I’m Haymitch,” he muttered, pulling his hand back quickly. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation. He just wanted to be left alone. The drink in his hand was the only thing that helped him pretend, just for a little while, that none of this mattered.

But you didn’t leave. You stayed there, watching him, waiting. Then, you asked, “Aren’t you a little young to be drinking?”

A bitter laugh escaped him, sharper than he intended. He glanced at you, eyes narrowing, but it wasn’t malice—just exhaustion. “After everything I’ve been through, I doubt anyone’s gonna care if I drink at sixteen.”

“I guess you’re right,” you said quietly, but the words felt heavier than they should have. A beat passed before you hesitated and then asked, “Can I drink with you?” The question slipped out before you could stop it.

You’d never had alcohol before. But tonight, with your father off in his political world and surrounded by people you didn’t care to speak to, you just wanted something—anything—to make you feel less out of place. And Haymitch seemed like he could use someone to talk to, even if he didn’t realize it.

He actually laughed—a sharp, bitter sound that caught you off guard. “You?” His voice dripped with disbelief. “The little Capitol princess wants to get drunk with District 12?” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “Oh, right. Because I’m a victor.” His eyes met yours, intense, cutting. “Is it to gloat to your friends? Or maybe to get in my pants? Because newsflash, sweetheart, I’ve had hundreds of people coming up to me for everything and more. So no,” he spat, voice low, dangerous. “I don’t need some drunk Capitol girl to go home to Daddy and get me killed for it.”

You blinked, stunned by the harshness of his words. You’d never been spoken to like that before—so blunt, so cruel. It felt like a slap in the face, but worse—because you couldn’t figure out what you’d done to deserve it.

Haymitch didn’t care that you weren’t like the others. He didn’t care that you’d felt a flicker of empathy for him, wanted to reach out, to connect. He was too wrapped up in his own bitterness to see it.

And you… you felt vulnerable, exposed, but you didn’t want to force him into a conversation. You weren’t going to beg for his company.

So you did the only thing you could think of. You swallowed your pride and, with quiet sincerity, said, “I’m really sorry about your friends. I just wanted to tell you that. The Games... they’re horrible. It’s not fair for any of you. That’s all. I’ll leave you to it.”

You turned to leave, but before you could take a step, you heard him speak again.

“Give me a whiskey on the rocks,” he said sharply, voice commanding.

His hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. The grip wasn’t harsh, but it was firm—insistent. You met his eyes, surprised by the sudden shift. His face was unreadable for a moment, then he gave you a half-smirk, something in his eyes that might’ve been humor—or maybe just resignation.

“Let’s drink,” he said, almost like an invitation to something he knew he didn’t want, but couldn’t refuse.

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him right. But you couldn’t back down now. You gave him a small, almost nervous smile, and after a beat, you sat down beside him.

The bartender placed a drink in front of you, the amber liquid shimmering under the low lights. You stared at it for a moment, unsure of what to do. You’d never tasted alcohol before.

Haymitch raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “You’re really gonna drink that?” he asked, a challenge in his voice.

You gathered every ounce of courage you had and took a sip.

The second the liquid hit your tongue, your stomach lurched. It burned like fire, sharp and bitter. You coughed violently, gagging, your face flushing with embarrassment. “What the hell is that?” you gasped, struggling to catch your breath.

Haymitch’s rough hand landed on your back, giving you a couple of quick, reassuring pats. “Atta girl,” he said, his voice low. For a second, there was something warm behind the edge of his tone. “You’re okay.”

A glass of water appeared in front of you, and you eagerly drank it, trying to wash away the burn. You looked back at Haymitch, still incredulous. “How do you drink that? It’s like drinking fire.”

He laughed, a sharp, mocking sound that was somehow more comforting than anything else. “After you play the Games,” he said, lifting his glass in a half-toast, “this? This is nothing.”

You stared at him for a moment, still catching your breath. "I guess you’re right," you murmured, trying to regain some composure. You’d expected to feel awkward, but now that you were sitting next to him, something about it felt oddly... real.

That’s when you noticed something strange. Haymitch was bouncing a small ball off the space between his legs, the rubber making a quiet, rhythmic sound against his chair.

"You still have it?" you asked before you could stop yourself, your voice softer than you intended, filled with curiosity.

Haymitch looked up at you, and for a split second, there was something flickering in his eyes—something unexpected, almost vulnerable. He didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on the small ball in his hand.

“Well, it did save my life,” he said, holding it up between you. “I was mad at first, thought it was stupid... But this little thing... It saved my life.” His voice softened, weighed down by the truth. “I wish I could meet the person who gave it to me. Even just a ‘hello’ and a ‘thank you.’”

You found yourself staring at him, a tightness forming in your chest. There was something raw about his words, beyond the anger he wore like armor. For a moment, the bitterness faded, and you saw the scars beneath it—the real Haymitch.

A pause lingered between you, heavy with unspoken understanding. You felt his eyes on you, the weight of them like a quiet pressure. Then, almost instinctively, you smiled—a small, soft thing that you didn’t try to hide. It wasn’t grand, but it was real.

“Hello,” you said, almost as if offering more than just a greeting.

Haymitch didn’t quite understand at first. His brows furrowed in confusion, but then, slowly, something shifted. His gaze darted from the ball back to you, and the realization hit him with almost comical force.

“You’re Star?” His voice came out incredulous, as though he couldn’t believe it. There was disbelief, yes, but also something else—a warmth, an unspoken gratitude.

You nodded, your smile growing shy, almost embarrassed now. "Yeah. I am. My dad calls me little star. I wanted to stay hidden."

He stared at you for a long moment, the silence between you thick with everything left unsaid. Then, bit by bit, his surprise faded, replaced by something softer, more genuine. A half-smile tugged at his lips as he nodded, accepting something that had been held back for too long.

“Hello… and thank you.” His voice was quieter now, no sarcasm, no bitterness—just the raw honesty he kept hidden beneath his rough exterior.

And in that moment, amidst the noise and chaos of the Capitol, something shifted between you two. The crowd, the flashing lights, the hollow smiles—they all seemed to blur into the background. It was just you and him, two people in a corner, sharing something no one else could understand.

The silence lingered, but it was comfortable now. You found yourself humming softly, the melody flowing out before you even realized it.

“What song is that?” Haymitch asked, breaking the stillness. He leaned in slightly, his brow furrowing in mild curiosity.

"Just something I’ve been working on,” you replied, your tone lighter now.

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You’re a songwriter?"

You hesitated for a second, then nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Trying to be. I hope one day I can be a famous singer and songwriter.” There was an edge of longing in your voice, a quiet dream that had always seemed out of reach. “But for now, I just need someone to listen to my songs.”

For some reason, those words hit him harder than he expected. Maybe it was the way your eyes sparkled with quiet hope or the vulnerability that slipped through your smile. Maybe it was the way you wore your dreams so openly, like they were part of you.

Without thinking, he said, “I’ll listen.”

His words hung between you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. You weren’t sure what surprised you more—the promise itself or the sincerity with which he spoke. Either way, it made you smile wider, a real, unguarded smile.

You nodded slowly, warmth spreading inside you like sunlight. “Thank you.”

And just like that, in the midst of a Capitol so full of lies and pretense, you found a little spark of something real—something you hadn’t even known you needed until now.

So I'll begin not to love you Turn around, see me runnin' I'll say I loved you years ago Tell myself you never loved me, no

It had been five years since you met Haymitch that fateful night, and in all that time, he became more than just a friend. He was your anchor, your constant in a world that never stayed still.

You were his star in the darkness. A rare gem in a place where everything felt fake. The Capitol was suffocating, and he loathed every moment he spent there, but seeing you—seeing you made it bearable.

For Haymitch, you were the first face he needed to see when he arrived, and the last one before he left. There was something about your presence that steadied him, that made him feel like he wasn’t completely lost, like he could survive the next battle, whatever it was. Being a mentor had taken its toll on him, and he had two things he relied on now: alcohol and you.

And you had become so much more than a friend. You were his escape and his comfort.

At eighteen, you had your first hit song, and since then, your career had skyrocketed. The Capitol adored you. You were their Princess, the one everyone wanted to hear, to know.

You performed regularly, your songs filled with emotion and truth, and people clamored to figure out who you were singing about. But you kept that secret locked away. You couldn’t bear to let the world know the truth—it was your perfect bubble, and you weren’t ready for it to burst.

Haymitch, however, was a different story. He knew everything about you. He was your first fan, your most honest critic, and your confidant. You needed him in ways you never thought you would need anyone. He was always there to listen, to help, and to offer feedback. Your songs were written for him, in a way. He inspired them, made you feel like you could pour out your soul without fear.

You had fallen in love with him long ago, but you’d never said it. You never dared to, because you were certain he didn’t feel the same. He’d been through too much, and you didn’t want to risk losing the friendship you both shared. So you kept your feelings hidden, wrapping them in the lyrics of your songs, in the quiet moments you shared together.

Tonight, you found yourself in your apartment with him again. Your songbook spread out in front of you, and Haymitch was leaning over it, scribbling notes and offering his usual feedback. He was so comfortable here, so at ease with you.

“I like this verse,” he said, his voice low as he underlined the lines in your song. You leaned over his shoulder to see which part he was referring to, your hair brushing his cheek, a closeness that made your heart race, even though you’d been here countless times before.

"Which one?" you asked, a smile tugging at your lips as you poured yourself a glass of wine and handed him his usual drink.

“We’re two broken stars that the world can’t hide,” he read aloud, glancing at you. You nodded, humming the words softly as you sang the line for him.

“I think my favorite is this one,” you said, pointing to another part of the page.

“They’ll never understand, they’ll never see, how your pain is my pain, how you’re saving me.”

Haymitch stared at the words for a long moment, his expression softening. “It’s absolutely beautiful,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “You, sweetheart, are a beautiful genius.”

You smiled at him, warmth flooding your chest at the compliment. “Do you like the song?” you asked, your voice a little unsure.

“Of course I do.” He took a sip of his drink, leaning back in his chair. “This is amazing. It’s going to be a hit.”

He paused, then added with a wry grin, “Though you’re definitely not helping with the ‘boyfriend’ situation you’ve got going on. Everyone already thinks you have a secret boyfriend.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Definitely do not,” you said, nudging him with your elbow. “You would be the first one to know.”

“I really can’t imagine you with someone,” he muttered before he could stop himself. It was true, though. He couldn’t picture you in anyone else’s arms. Not after all these years, not after everything. He’d come to rely on you so much that the thought of anyone else being close to you—really close to you—filled him with something he couldn’t quite name.

You raised an eyebrow. “Ouch. I’m offended,” you teased, though you couldn’t help the slight flutter in your chest. “I get it, though. I really can’t see myself with anyone either…” You paused, meeting his gaze.

“Oh, shush.” He rolled his eyes, though there was a faint blush creeping up his neck. “You have every man at your feet.” You shook your head, letting out a small laugh. “Please. You’re a beautiful and talented woman. Everyone either wants to be you or be with you.”

You stared at him for a long time after that, your heart pounding in your chest. “And on which side are you on?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, Haymitch didn’t answer. He looked at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips, as if he was wrestling with some unspoken desire. Finally, he shook his head, his voice rough as he replied, “I... I don’t know. I can’t imagine you with anyone else, but I also can’t—”

“Cross that line?” you finished for him, your voice catching in your throat.

He met your gaze, and for a moment, everything around you faded. It was just you and him, the years of friendship, the quiet longing, the unspoken words hanging between you.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I can’t cross that line.”

You swallowed hard, your heart aching in your chest. “But what if I want to?” you whispered.

His eyes darkened, and for the first time, you saw the conflict in them. “Then we’d both have to admit something we’ve been denying for years,” he murmured, standing up and walking over to the window, looking out at the city below.

You stood up too, taking a few steps toward him. “What’s that?”

“That we’re both terrified of what’ll happen if we cross that line,” he said, turning to face you, his voice almost a whisper. “Because if we do, there’s no going back.”

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. You took another step toward him, your heart pounding so loudly you thought it might burst. “Haymitch…” you whispered, your voice trembling with the desire you’d kept locked away for so long.

He closed the space between you in a few swift steps, his hand brushing yours, then cupping your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

And then, slowly, he leaned in.

The moment your lips met, it was everything you’d both been avoiding, a collision of longing and restraint, two hearts breaking through the walls they’d built around themselves.

It was gentle at first, a tender exploration of what you’d both kept hidden. But as the kiss deepened, it became urgent, as if you were both finally giving in to the desire that had been simmering for so long.

When he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, you were both breathless, both trembling.

“I’ve wanted that for so long,” Haymitch whispered, his voice raw, “but I didn’t know how to make it real. Didn’t know if you felt the same.”

You smiled softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I’ve always felt the same.”

And in that moment, everything changed. The line you had never crossed was no longer there. It was just you and him, tangled in a world of your own.

Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me I know I could have loved you But you would not let me

It had been a few years since that first kiss—the one that had changed everything. You still remembered the way his lips had felt against yours—hesitant at first, then warm and sure as his arms had wrapped around you. It was the kind of kiss that made the whole world outside disappear, leaving only the two of you. And nothing had been the same since.

You and Haymitch had come a long way since then. The world didn’t know the truth—the truth about the quiet moments, the shared smiles, the stolen touches in the dark corners of the Capitol. They had no idea that Haymitch was even in your life. He was your constant, your anchor, the one person who always knew how to make everything feel okay.

Tonight, you were curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs as you looked over the lyrics for your next song. You were on your third glass of wine, trying to find the perfect words for the melody in your head. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t focus. Your mind kept drifting back to Haymitch.

He was in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets. He’d promised to make you dinner, but that usually meant the whole process involved a lot of cursing and muttered complaints. You smiled to yourself, knowing exactly how the evening was going to go.

“I swear, every time I try to make something, it turns into a disaster,” he called from the kitchen, his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

“You say that every time, Haymitch,” you teased, not bothering to look up from your notebook. “But I’m pretty sure you’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not exaggerating,” he said flatly. You heard a loud clang, followed by a frustrated grunt. “This pan's out for me. I swear it’s cursed. Maybe we should switch. I’ll be the famous pop star, and you can save us from this kitchen disaster.”

You chuckled softly, setting your pen down and glancing toward the kitchen doorway. “You need me to come rescue you?”

A long pause followed, then a familiar, exaggerated sigh that made you smile even before he spoke. “I think it might be beyond rescue at this point,” he muttered, his voice tinged with a reluctant laugh. “But yeah, I’d appreciate the help.”

You stood, the blanket slipping from your lap as you walked into the kitchen. Haymitch was standing by the stove, glaring at the pan as if it had personally wronged him.

The mess around him wasn’t much better—spilled ingredients, an open box of pasta, and the unmistakable smell of something burning. Or maybe it was just the wine you’d been sipping. Either way, it was chaos in there.

You walked over to him, your hand gently landing on his shoulder. “Maybe I should take over before you set the whole place on fire,” you teased, trying not to laugh.

He glanced up at you, his expression softening for a brief moment. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he muttered, leaning back against the counter with a sigh. “If I had to cook for myself every night, I’d probably starve.”

You grinned, nudging him with your shoulder. “Well, lucky for you, you’ve got me. Cooking’s my thing, remember?”

He chuckled quietly, his gaze lingering on you, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world outside didn’t exist. There was just this little space, the two of you, and nothing else mattered. In this tiny corner of the Capitol, you didn’t have to pretend to be anyone but yourselves.

As you started to take over the cooking, Haymitch moved to stand behind you, slipping his arms around your waist. It was the kind of touch that had become second nature, yet it still made your heart skip every time.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low and warm against your neck, “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

You froze for a moment, your fingers pausing over the counter. You hadn’t expected that. But when you turned to meet his eyes, they were soft, and there was a sincerity there that made your heart flutter.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but your voice gave you away.

He didn’t respond immediately, instead meeting your gaze like he was weighing his words. For a moment, he seemed lost, and you could see the vulnerability in his eyes that he rarely let anyone see.

“I don’t deserve you,” he finally whispered, his voice barely audible. “But I’m damn glad I have you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Without thinking, you reached up to gently cup his cheek, grounding yourself with the warmth of his skin. “You do deserve me, Haymitch. More than anyone I know.”

He held your gaze for what felt like an eternity, his expression unreadable for a moment before he leaned down to kiss you. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t a fiery, desperate kiss. It was slow and soft, like he was savoring the moment. You did the same. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his breath.

“I love you,” he whispered, so quietly it could’ve been drowned out by the soft hum of the record player in the background. But you heard it. And you felt it in every part of you.

Your heart stopped for a beat, the weight of his words filling you up. You couldn’t help but smile. “I love you too, Haymitch,” you said, your voice muffled against his shirt. “I’ve loved you since that first kiss. And I’ll love you to our last.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. “You’re a godsend, you know that?”

You pulled back slightly, meeting his eyes again. His gaze was full of so much love, it felt like it was lifting you off the ground.

“We’ve been hiding for so long,” you murmured, your fingers tracing lightly along the edge of his jaw. “I just want everyone to know how much I love you. How much we love each other. I want the world to know that you, my beautiful District 12 blonde troublemaker, are the muse behind every song I’ve written.”

Haymitch laughed, his expression amused. “Beautiful District 12 blonde troublemaker, huh? You sure know how to flatter a guy.”

You smiled up at him, loving how playful he was, even in moments like this. “Well, it’s the truth. You’re my muse. The reason for every lyric, every note. And everyone deserves to know that.”

His expression softened, and he brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your skin. “The Capitol isn’t ready for that, sweetheart,” he said gently. “We can’t let them see this. Not yet. You being with someone from District 12 would start a riot. I can handle myself, but I don’t want you to have to worry about it.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words settling in. “I know. But maybe someday, when it’s safe, I don’t want to hide anymore. I don’t want to keep this secret.”

He smiled, his hand gently cupping the back of your neck, his thumb brushing against your skin in slow, soothing circles. “We’ll get there. When the time’s right. I promise.”

You leaned in and kissed him again, this time deeper, more certain. It wasn’t about anyone else right now. Not about the Capitol, or the world beyond your little apartment. What mattered was that it was just the two of you, in this moment, safe and away from it all.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips, and he smiled, kissing you back with that same quiet intensity.

“I love you too, sweetheart. More than you’ll ever know.”

And in that moment, you realized that this love—the secret, hidden love you shared—was all that truly mattered. Nothing else in the world could compare.

Was I such a fool? I'll follow you down til' the sound of my voice will haunt you Give me just a chance

You were about to turn thirty, and apparently, that meant people had a free pass to get all up in your business about when you were going to get married.

It wasn’t like you could really get mad at them. You found yourself wondering the same thing sometimes. You’d been with Haymitch for almost a decade now, and every time you tried to broach the subject of marriage, he’d change the topic like it was some sort of game.

You didn’t get it. You were secure in your relationship—deeply secure. You loved him. He loved you. What was the hold-up? You didn’t want to be just another Capitol couple with a glittering wedding and a big spectacle, but you also didn’t understand why he kept dodging the conversation. Marriage was a way to make your relationship real in the eyes of the world, something more than just whispers behind closed doors.

But not for Haymitch. And so, you just kept pretending the question didn’t bother you. You smiled through the constant barrage of nosy questions.

“Do you have someone special in your life?”

“When are we going to see little Y/n’s running around?”

“Thirty’s almost here—when’s the wedding?”

It wasn’t that you didn’t want those things. You did. You wanted a future with Haymitch, a life together. The more they asked, the more you felt the pressure tightening, even though you knew it wasn’t something they could help.

And then there were your parents. Especially your mother.

“I don’t get it,” your mom said one night, running her hand through her hair in frustration. “You have so many options, Y/n. So many good men. You could’ve been married years ago, but now? You’re getting older, and the good ones—they’ll be gone soon. I can’t just sit here and wait forever for you to make up your mind.”

You sighed, leaning back into your chair. “Mom, we’ve been through this before. I’m handling it.”

“Handling it?” She gave you a pointed look. “You’ve been saying that since you were twenty-five. It’s not like there’s a shortage of men who’d love to marry you. You could have any of them.”

Your patience was starting to fray. You loved your parents, you really did, but you hated that they couldn’t understand.

“I don’t want any of them,” you shot back, trying to keep your voice calm. “I don’t want some Capitol bachelor with his polished smile and perfect life.” I want Haymitch.

Her eyes softened, but the frustration still lingered. “Look, I understand, but—”

“No, you don’t,” you interrupted. “You don’t get it, Mom. I’m not looking for a perfect life. I’m looking for the one that feels real.”

Your mom opened her mouth, clearly ready to argue, but your father finally spoke up. “What your mother’s trying to say is, maybe you’re not really opening yourself up to the idea of someone else. We’ve been talking with the Crane family, and—”

“I’m not marrying Seneca Crane,” you said before he could finish, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Your father raised an eyebrow, trying to hide his surprise. “Well, not Seneca. His older brother, Cassius. He’s a few years older than you, and he’s been the Head Gamemaker for a while. He’s a good guy, Y/n. We’ve worked with him before. You can trust him. The Crane family is well-respected.”

You crossed your arms, your heart sinking. You’d met Cassius before. He was kind, charming, but he wasn’t Haymitch. He wasn’t the man you wanted to spend your life with.

“No,” you said firmly. “I’m not doing this.”

“Y/n,” your father said gently, leaning forward. “Cassius is a good man. And your marriage would be a big deal. It would bring both our families joy, not to mention the whole Capitol. You’d be the ‘It’ couple, Y/n. Even President Snow would likely attend the wedding. This could be huge for all of us.”

You shook your head, the lump in your throat growing. You didn’t care about any of that. You didn’t care about appearances, about being the Capitol’s ‘It’ couple. You cared about him.

“I don’t want to marry someone for the sake of a good match. I want to marry for love.”

Your father sighed, looking helpless, while your mother was now giving you that look—the one that said she was done.

“Little Star, we’re just trying to make sure you’re not closing yourself off. We want what’s best for you. We just want you to be happy.”

You stood up, the weight of their concern suddenly too much to bear. “I’m not doing this. I’m done talking about it.”

Before they could say anything else, you grabbed your purse and headed for the door. You needed to be anywhere but here, away from their expectations, their pressure. The only place you wanted to be was with Haymitch.

You needed him. His arms around you. His voice, his presence, his unspoken understanding of you.

You kissed your parents on the cheek quickly, not trusting yourself to say more, and walked out without another word. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, you could feel the tension start to ease, knowing that soon, you’d be with the one person who did understand. The one person who made it all feel like it was going to be okay.

Haymitch. Your Haymitch.

When you finally made it to your apartment, you immediately noticed the bag slung casually on the couch and the open bottle of whiskey sitting on the coffee table—his whiskey. He’d arrived. Haymitch was here.

You quickly made your way into the living room, and there he was. Sitting on the couch, bottle in hand, swirling the amber liquid, lost in thought. His weary eyes lifted when he heard your footsteps, and for a second, everything else in the world disappeared.

“Haymitch…” You said softly, a smile creeping onto your lips.

He didn’t speak immediately, just set the bottle down on the table and opened his arms for you. You ran to him without a second thought, collapsing into his embrace. His scent—whiskey and something else that was unmistakably him—wrapped around you like a familiar, comforting blanket.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered, burying your face in his chest.

Dinner came and went, the two of you falling into the comfortable rhythm you always did. The kind of quiet that spoke louder than words. But after, when the dishes were cleaned and the night had settled into the soft hum of your apartment, you found yourself nestled on the couch again. His fingers gently threaded through your hair as you laid your head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat grounding you.

This was your place. Your perfect, stolen moments together.

“Haymitch…” you said, your voice quiet, almost tentative. He hummed in response, the sound low and soothing.

“I’ve been thinking,” you continued, lifting your head slightly to look at him. “What if you stayed?”

His hand froze, his fingers stilling in your hair. He didn’t say anything at first, but you felt the tension in his body. He didn’t even need to speak for you to know what was coming.

“…here in the Capitol,” you added, trying to push through the nervous lump in your throat. “You come back every year, and I’m sure if we tell the public, they’ll let you stay. They would. They love you here. You could have your own life—our life. Together.”

For a long moment, he didn’t speak. And in that silence, you felt your heart start to sink. You knew what he would say. You always knew. He couldn’t stay here. Not for you. Not for anyone.

“I can’t see myself living here full-time,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You understood. You did. You always had. He hated the Capitol. He hated everything it stood for. You couldn’t blame him for that. It wasn’t fair to ask him to be part of it.

But still, you couldn’t help but try. “What if I went to District 12?” The words spilled out before you could stop them. “I can always come back here for performances, for everything I need to do, but… I’d be with you. We could be together. I can make it work.”

“I don’t think you’d like District 12,” he said, his voice sounding almost sad as he looked at you.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “Well, I’ve never been. And I want to be wherever you are.”

There was a pause. A long one. He didn’t speak. And you waited, holding your breath.

“And if you don’t want to live here and you don’t think I’d like it in the districts… where do you suppose we live when we get married?”

There. You said it. You let it slip. That word. And as soon as it left your lips, you saw the shift in his expression, the subtle stiffening in his shoulders.

“We are going to get married, right?” Your voice cracked, just slightly, betraying the vulnerability you didn’t want him to see.

The silence in the room felt like it could suffocate you. His eyes were downcast, and you could feel your stomach drop, your heart pounding in your chest, as the weight of the moment settled over you.

He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s not that I don’t want to marry you,” he said, each word weighing on him like an anchor. “I just don’t see myself getting married… in general.”

And then it hit you. Like a punch to the gut. You could barely breathe.

“Not even to me?” You whispered, unable to stop the words from tumbling out.

He met your eyes then, and you saw the pain in his gaze, the unspeakable regret. His hand fell from your hair and he looked down at his lap, fingers twitching at his sides.

“I love you,” he said softly, his voice breaking as the words left his lips.

“And I love you…” You responded, your throat tight, tears starting to sting your eyes. “But I want to marry you. I want to have kids with you. I want to be a family with you. And I thought you wanted that too…”

You could feel the tears welling up, but you held them back as best as you could. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me,” you whispered, barely above a breath, your voice breaking.

His face contorted in a mixture of frustration and helplessness. He closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to make sense of everything. But there was no sense to be made. Not in this. Not now.

“I can’t do it.” His voice was barely a murmur. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks despite your best effort to hold them back. “Cassius Crane wants my hand in marriage,” you said, your voice shaking. You couldn’t stop yourself from adding the words. “I said no. I said no because I want you. I want us. Please don’t take that away from me.”

His eyes snapped open, but they were filled with the same sadness as always. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I can’t give you marriage.”

You stared at him, disbelief washing over you. “Dammit, why not?” You snapped, your voice rising despite yourself. “Am I not enough?”

“God no,” he hissed, his hands suddenly gripping your face with such force it made your breath catch. “Of course, you’re enough. You just… you don’t understand.”

“Then let me understand,” you cried, the words tumbling out of you like a dam breaking. “Talk to me. Stop running away from this.”

But he couldn’t explain it. Not in a way you could understand. Not the way you needed to.

“I can’t!” He yelled back, his voice breaking, the emotion raw. “I just can’t. I can’t let you be part of this world. This world that’ll just take everything from you. You don’t have to face it. You’ll never have to. And I can’t let that happen to you.”

“I want marriage. And I want kids.” Your voice was barely a whisper now, a soft, desperate plea. “I want to share that with you.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, and it almost shattered you.

“Please,” you whispered, grabbing his face, your hands shaking. “Just talk to me. We can talk about it. What are you scared of?”

You looked into his eyes, searching for something—anything—to give you hope, to give you an answer. “We can talk about marriage and kids later then. But can we at least go public?” You tried, your voice almost pleading.

But you could see his answer in his eyes. You knew. It was a no.

“What does that mean for us then? I’ll do anything to make this work. But how?” You felt your voice quiver as you said the words, the hollow ache in your chest growing by the second.

And then he spoke, his voice barely audible, full of sorrow.

“I think you know what that means for us,” he said, looking down, tears welling up in his eyes.

You shake your head, your breath coming out in broken sobs. "No. Haymitch, no..." Your voice cracks, desperation choking the words as you try to grasp onto something, anything, to stop the inevitable.

He reaches out and gently caresses your face, his touch soft, like he’s trying to wipe away the pain, but it only seems to deepen the ache in your chest. “You deserve to be happy,” he whispers, his voice strained, like the words are as heavy as stones in his mouth.

You look at him, helpless, and your voice trembles with all the emotions you’ve been trying to keep bottled up for so long. “I’m happy with you,” you cry out, the tears flowing freely now, unstoppable. “I don’t need a wedding, I don’t need kids... Hell, we don’t even need to go in public. We can stay like this. Just don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me.” You feel the words spilling out in a frantic rush, your grip tightening on him as if you can hold him together with just your hands. “Please...”

He pulls you into his arms, his embrace tight, almost desperate. But it’s not enough. It never feels like enough. His tears fall too, mingling with yours, his voice breaking as he speaks. “You don’t want that. I know you don’t. And I’m so, so sorry...” His words are a confession, a silent admission of the things he’s never been able to give you. His body shakes slightly, as if the weight of what he’s saying is slowly crushing him, but he can’t stop.

You cling to him, holding onto him like a lifeline. “Please... don’t leave me. We can work it out. We can fix this,” you cry out, the words coming from a place deep inside, where your love for him feels like it could tear you apart if it doesn’t come out. You can't breathe without him. You can't imagine a world where he's not there beside you, where his touch is just a memory, fading with time.

He pulls back, his hands trembling as they hold your face, his eyes full of sorrow. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I shouldn’t have made you wait. I should’ve been honest with you from the start, but I didn’t want to hurt you. And I know I’ve already done that, but... I can’t give you what you need. What you deserve.” He pauses, his gaze distant, almost lost. “You deserve to have the most beautiful wedding, to have a family, to give your children everything you’ve dreamed of.”

The pain is unbearable. You feel it twist inside you, but you can’t stop, can’t let it go. You can’t let him slip through your fingers, not like this. “Have it with me,” you beg, your voice raw with emotion. “Let’s have that life. Together, Haymitch. You deserve that too. We deserve to be happy... We deserve to be a family. Please...”

You see the shift in him, the way his shoulders tense, how his expression softens into something painful, something almost regretful. But it’s too late. His voice is low, barely audible as he speaks again, the weight of his words sinking into your skin. “My family died many years ago,” he whispers, the words like shards of glass against your heart. “And I will not go through that again. I can’t. I won’t.”

You reach for him, your heart shattering. “Haymitch... I don’t want to have that life without you. I can’t...” Your hands tremble as you touch his face, your tears falling onto his skin, but he doesn’t look at you. He can’t.

“You’re going to be fine,” he says softly, almost like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. “You’re going to be happy. You’ll find someone who can give you everything you need. Someone who can make all your dreams come true.”

“But I love you,” you cry out, your chest aching with the rawness of your words. It’s all you have left. You can feel him breaking, too. You can see it in his eyes, the way his walls are starting to crumble, just like yours.

He kisses your forehead, and for a moment, everything feels like it used to—perfect. Safe. But then the moment ends, and reality crashes back in. His voice cracks as he speaks again. “And I love you more than you’ll ever know,” he whispers, his lips pressing against your skin with a tenderness that feels like goodbye. “And that’s why I need to end this. It’s not fair to you, to keep you here, to give up your dreams of being a wife and a mother. You deserve someone who can give you everything you want, everything you need.”

You shake your head, the words sticking in your throat. “I’ll do anything for you,” you whisper, your voice desperate. You feel it—this is the moment. The one where everything changes.

He stares at you, his eyes wet with unshed tears. He needs to be strong. For both of you. And you know that, even as your heart is cracking open. “And I’ll do anything for you too,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, but there’s finality to it. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He pulls away then, and your heart feels like it’s falling to the ground. You reach out, but he’s already stepping back, grabbing his bag. The weight of it is almost too much to bear. His footsteps sound so hollow against the floor. You feel like you’re suffocating, but you can’t move.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, his voice cracking, before he turns and walks to the door. You can’t stop the sob that rips through you, can’t stop the way your chest burns as you watch him go.

You hear the door close behind him, the sound of it echoing in the emptiness of the apartment, and then—silence. The silence that he’s left behind. The silence that feels like a void in your heart.

He’s gone. And with him, a part of you is gone too.

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me I know I could've loved you, but you would not let me I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice

Haymitch absolutely hated being in the Capitol. He couldn’t stand the fake smiles, the bright lights, or the smell of wealth and excess in the air. He needed to be at least semi-plastered to survive it, but even then, it barely helped.

It had been years since he walked out of your life—since he made that decision to never look back. Walking away was the worst thing he’d ever done. The loneliness that followed was a constant ache in his chest. Life without you? It wasn’t life at all. It wasn’t worth living.

But he couldn’t just leave. Not entirely. He had to stay for District 12. They needed him as their mentor, even though he felt like he’d failed them. He couldn’t abandon them, even if he already felt like he had.

The 70th Hunger Games were upon him, and Haymitch found himself waiting in the crowd for the tribute interviews. His flask was clutched tightly in his hand, his stomach already knotted at the thought of the upcoming disaster. He had seen it all before, and this year would be no different—he’d be cleaning up someone else’s mess again.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the voice of the announcer boomed across the stadium, “Your Master of Ceremonies, Caesar Flickerman!”

Haymitch’s eyes narrowed, and he rolled his own eyes at the sound. He hated these events. He hated the whole thing.

“Welcome! Welcome! Welcome!” Caesar’s voice was almost too bright, too fake. “The 70th Annual Hunger Games! How marvelous!” The crowd roared with excitement. “Are you excited to meet your favorite tributes?” More cheers. “I am too! But before we get to that, we have a very special surprise for you all.”

Haymitch took a long swig from his flask, bracing himself for whatever ridiculous Capitol guest they were about to unveil.

“And now,” Caesar’s voice grew even more enthusiastic, “please put your hands together for the most beautiful and beloved couple of the century, the genius head game maker, Cassius Crane, and the brightest star in all of Panem—Y/N Crane!”

Haymitch froze. His heart hammered in his chest, and the world around him seemed to fall away. He hadn’t expected this. Not in a thousand years. You—you—were here. He hadn’t seen you in years, not since that night. And he had worked hard to avoid you ever since.

When you and he were in the same vicinity, it was like a silent agreement: you went one way, and he went the other. You kept your distance. He kept his.

But now, here you were.

The crowd erupted into applause as you stepped into view. There you were, as stunning as ever. The Capitol lights made your skin glow, and the smile on your face was everything he remembered—warm, bright, perfect. Your hand was firmly entwined with your husband’s, and they looked so... complete. Together.

And then Haymitch’s eyes fell to the ring on your finger. The simple band, a symbol of a life you’d built without him. His throat tightened, his stomach lurching.

“My dears,” Caesar greeted, his voice dripping with his usual fake charm. He shook Cassius’s hand and kissed both your cheeks, pulling you into his world of manufactured affection. “Thank you for joining us.”

“Thank you for having us,” you replied smoothly, your voice calm and collected. You sat down beside Cassius, your fingers still intertwined with his.

“So,” Caesar crossed his legs, settling into his seat with his signature grin. “How’s married life treating you?”

Cassius smiled at you, the picture of a perfect husband. “It’s marvelous,” he said, his gaze never leaving you. “She’s an absolute dream. I thank my lucky stars every day for her.” The crowd melted at his words, a chorus of "Awws" echoing through the stadium.

Haymitch had to fight the urge to roll his eyes, his fingers tightening around his flask. Perfect. That was exactly what you had. The life you always deserved. A life he couldn’t give you.

You smiled, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “It’s amazing,” you added, your voice steady. “We just celebrated our fourth anniversary, and we’re still going strong.”

The words stung. You were happy—with him. And Haymitch had no right to be angry. He had walked away.

But it still hurt. It hurt more than he cared to admit.

“And how are the kids?” Caesar’s voice cut through the haze of bitterness in Haymitch’s mind.

You lit up at the mention of your children, and Haymitch’s heart sank further.

“They’re absolutely perfect,” you said, your eyes glowing with pride. “Cassius Jr. is three, and Aurora just turned one.” You handed a photo to Caesar, who held it up for the audience to see. “Here they are.”

The crowd awed at the picture, and Caesar’s voice grew even more syrupy. “Oh my! Look at these precious babies!” he said. He turned the photo towards the audience, allowing the cameras to zoom in. “Where are our babies? We need to see them!”

Cassius grinned like a proud father, looking down at the photo with a soft smile. “Well, funny you should ask,” he said, his voice filled with pride. “Because we have some very special guests for you all.”

And with that, the nanny walked on stage, carrying both of your children. The crowd went wild, and even Caesar seemed overwhelmed with excitement.

Cassius Jr. was placed in his father’s arms, and Aurora was handed over to you. You smiled at her, holding her with tenderness.

“Can you say hi, Junior?” Cassius asked, holding the little boy up for the crowd.

“Hi,” the boy said, and the crowd erupted in cooing sounds.

Haymitch’s chest tightened painfully, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from you. From your perfect life. From your perfect family. He never should’ve walked away.

Caesar, still fawning over the family, turned to the crowd. “What a surprise! These children are so beautiful. Obviously, they come from the most beautiful parents. I really should be thanking the gods for putting you two together—our Head Game Maker and our beloved Pop Princess!”

The crowd laughed. The cameras flashed. You smiled. And Haymitch... well, Haymitch was dying inside.

He should’ve been the one standing beside you. He should’ve been the one holding your hand. But he wasn’t.

And that, more than anything, felt like the hardest part to bear.

“So, what comes next? Should we expect a new album soon?” Caesar asked, his voice practically bubbling with excitement.

You laugh softly, the sound genuine and warm. “Actually, I think the new album will have to wait for a little while longer. I’m sorry.” A playful glint flickered in your eyes as you turned to your husband, smiling brightly. “Because…” you said, your hands gently resting on the curve of your stomach, “I’m pregnant.”

The words sent the crowd into a frenzy, their cheers so loud they seemed to rattle the very air around them. The lights above seemed to shine even brighter as you spoke, as if the Capitol itself was celebrating this new chapter in your life.

“Are you trying to kill us?” Caesar exclaimed dramatically, throwing his hands in the air with a wide grin. “How far along are you?”

“I’m about three and a half months,” you replied, your voice calm and steady, but there was a joy in it that couldn’t be hidden. As you sat back down, Cassius immediately took your hand again, his fingers wrapping around yours possessively.

“Well, congratulations are definitely in order,” Caesar said, his voice full of warmth. “I love having new babies to love. Don’t you?” He turned to the audience, inviting their enthusiastic response.

Haymitch’s heart clenched in his chest, but he didn’t look away. Cassius—your husband—seemed so perfectly at ease, as though he had everything figured out.

He was the man you had chosen, the man you had built this life with. The thought of you raising children with him, his children, twisted something inside Haymitch. And yet, here he was, an outsider, holding a flask instead of his family.

Caesar turned back to Cassius. “So music is clearly on the back burner for now, but what about you, Cassius? You’ll still be the head game maker, right?”

Cassius squeezed your hand, his voice deep and full of care as he looked at you with a soft, loving gaze. “Actually, I’m planning on bringing my little brother Seneca into the role. This is our third child, and I want to be there for my wife.” His hand briefly brushed over your stomach, his eyes filled with affection. “We both want our children to be raised with both parents in the household, so I’ve decided that this role can be split. I trust Seneca completely. I can promise you that the future Games will be even better than before.”

Haymitch’s grip tightened around the neck of his flask, his hand shaking ever so slightly. He stared at the two of you, the image of the perfect family.

You, so radiant, your life so beautifully mapped out, and Cassius—Cassius—the man who had everything Haymitch had once dreamed of. The love you shared, the life you built, it was all so perfect. And Haymitch was nothing. Not to you. Not to anyone.

And then the children. They were perfect, too. Cassius Jr. looked like a miniature replica of his father, with that proud, confident smile, but your features were there too—the nose, the smile. And little Aurora. She was the image of you, small and delicate, with your sparkling eyes and soft skin. It was everything you’d ever wanted, everything you deserved.

And Haymitch had let you slip through his fingers. He had ruined it.

He should have fought for you. Instead, he pushed you away. And now, here you were, with everything you ever wanted… without him.

Haymitch felt the weight of his decision crush him all over again. He knew, as he sat there in the back, nursing his flask, that he had failed you. And no matter how many years passed, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, it would always hurt. The ache in his chest never went away. Not even after all this time.

But then, as if the universe itself wanted to rub salt into his wounds, your eyes found his.

The breath left Haymitch’s chest in a strangled gasp. He saw it—the moment your body stiffened, just the slightest, your smile faltering as your gaze locked with his. The recognition. It was there, in your eyes. He could see the way your heart gave a little lurch, the way your face softened ever so slightly.

You hadn’t forgotten. You never had.

For a long moment, neither of you broke eye contact. Haymitch couldn’t read your thoughts. And, in some strange way, he didn’t want to know. Because if he did, if he truly understood just how much you still carried for him—he might lose the fragile control he had left. You had moved on. You had built a life without him. And as much as it hurt, that was the reality he had to accept.

You broke eye contact when your son reached out for you, his tiny hands stretching towards you. You immediately pulled your eyes from Haymitch’s and went to him, your arms instinctively wrapping around the child. The bond between you and your son was undeniable, and Haymitch couldn’t tear his eyes away.

He watched as your fingers gently played with your son’s hair, his content little face snuggling into you. For a brief, bitter moment, Haymitch smiled—though it was more out of sorrow than anything else. He had lost. He had lost you, and now, there was no going back.

Caesar’s voice interrupted the fragile moment. “Thank you to the Crane family for joining us tonight. It’s been an absolute pleasure. To close this segment, would you two be so kind as to share a kiss with us?”

Cassius and you stood together, your children in your arms. Cassius’s free hand wrapped around your waist, his palm resting on the curve of your stomach. He pulled you into his arms, and in front of millions, he kissed you—a soft, tender kiss that was filled with a love Haymitch could never understand.

The crowd erupted in applause, but Haymitch barely heard it. He only saw you. Your smile. Your joy. And the knowledge that it wasn’t for him.

As you pulled away from the kiss, your gaze didn’t even flicker back in his direction. It stung, but Haymitch accepted it. You had moved on. He had no place in your life anymore.

What he didn’t know was that, even as you smiled at Cassius and turned your attention back to your family, you watched him. You watched him as he slowly turned his back on you once more. It was subtle, but the familiar ache tightened in your chest, too. You told yourself, over and over, that you had made peace with the life you had. You had built it, you had chosen it. And yet, as he walked away, it felt like another part of you slipped away with him.

He drained the rest of the flask, the burning liquid doing nothing to ease the ache in his heart. Turning away from the stage, Haymitch made his way to the exit, the weight of the decision he had made years ago pressing down on him with crushing force.

He had told himself time and time again that never turning back had been his biggest regret, but now he knew it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Because, in the end, it had led you to this. It had led you to happiness.

And, for that, he could never regret it.

With a final glance at the memory of your smile etched in his mind, Haymitch walked away—away from you, away from everything. His heart shattered with every step. And for the first time in years, he knew what it truly felt like to lose you.

Forever.

But as he walked, he knew deep down that he’d never truly escape you. The haunting image of your smile, the sound of your voice, the way you had looked at him that night, would linger in his mind like a shadow.

Even as he tried to drown it with another drink, the memories would cling to him, relentless and unforgiving. Every corner of his mind, every moment in the day, would be haunted by you—by the love he once had and lost. And for the rest of his life, no matter how much he tried to move on, he would carry you with him.

You were the one thing he could never outrun.

[venusbyline]

Hear me out! Just hear me out!

Alicent sending Teen! Innocent! Sister to Oldtown to receive proper training in being a Lady of the Realm and Wife. ( so they have to be apart for a year ) And Teen! Aegon being so desperate for his Teen! Innocent! Sister when she returns, with still a month before they can marry, that the little pervert leaves her ‘gifts’.

Cumming in her panties, humping her pillow, leaving books about consummation on her bed, cum soaked small clothes, lacy chemises that he wants her to ‘wear’ for their wedding night, etc.

Like a sick twisted cat leaving a dead animal as a gift.

But, when she brushes it off / ignores it as she’s been taught it’s ‘improper’ to retaliate or acknowledge it as a Lady / his future wife. He takes it further, dangling over the ledge of improper and proper etiquette while in public.

Accidentally brushing against her when walking past - even though there is plenty of room, hugging her from behind - only to subtly grind against her when she kneels down to pray in the Sept, whispering all the sick and twisted things he’s gonna do to her when they marry in her ear.

 What do you think?

Oh Gods that was sooo hot, I love it. Honestly, I'm so obsessed with teen!Aegon being a disgusting pervert or a pathetic whiny boy.

Pls guys keeping sending me your horny thoughts about HOTD characters!!! 🔥🔥

⚠️: Targcest (older brother/younger sister), underage dry humping, exhibitionism, dubcon, virginity kink, corruption kink, young!Aemond mentioned.

I admit I do not think teen!Aegon's patience would last long. He is been without his little sister for a whole year, having to settle with just fucking whores and forcing himself on random servants. Now that she is finally back, he NEEDS her so much. Poor boy just wants to fuck her virgin cunt until she cries and squirts all over, but the sweet girl is being even more stubborn and prudish than before, and Aegon gets so mad at Alicent because of that.

When his sister simply ignores all of his perverted gifts, Aegon stops trying to convince her and starts acting dirtier. He will caress his sister's inner thigh under the table during family dinners, even when she looks at him so confused and innocent. He will rub his hardness against her body when they are near each other, ignoring the embarrassed looks from the servants and the way she tries to push him away, or even the disgusted and frightened look on Aemond's face when he walks into his older brother's chambers and sees him cumming in one of his dear sister's underwear to give back to her later — Aegon had to convince Aemond not to tell their mother or Ser Criston. Actually, Aegon convinced the stubborn younger boy with an agreement that he could even let Aemond eat their sister out after Aegon was already married to her. Now, little Aemond is a mix of shyness and arousal, so excited for this day too.

Anyway, Aegon soon loses the brief of control he had left when he goes looking for his younger sister and finds her kneeling and praying in the Sept. Fuck, he wants to rip that green dress of hers and take her right there, so the Seven can see that plump little cunt blooding and dripping onto the sacred ground. Aegon does not care about the good manners she learned in Oldtown; he does not want a religious puritanical wife like their mother. He takes advantage of her distraction during the prayers to kneel right behind the innocent frame, his slender fingers covering her pretty mouth before she can scream at the sudden touches. The smell of lit candles increases Aegon's arousal even more. The boy looks like a hound, rubbing himself against the young princess, nibbling on her earlobe.

"I should fuck you right here, sweet sister. For all the Gods to see me take your innocence..." Aegon growls the whispered dirties, feeling his long silver hair getting sweaty, hips humping her from behind. He uses his free hand to lift the silk green dress, enjoying the pleasure of her warm skin against his. She whines muffled protests, however, the older one just ignores her pleas for a while. "I have tried to be patient with you. But I cannot wait any longer, I want to fuck you until your tight cunt is all raw, reddish and dripping with my seed. I am going to get you pregnant even before our wedding ceremony."

Maybe he could have really done all of those things? Of course. But I bet his heart softened a little when she started begging, crying his name like a innocent child. Then, despite the frustration, Aegon limited himself to continuing to rub his thick cock against his sister's ass, squeezing her breasts over her clothes. The boy takes the opportunity to cum on her soft skin, slapping her buttocks and kneading the flesh there afterwards, a silence but sick promise that even if he will control himself to wait one more week, he will fuck the girl all the time after they are officially married.

[sh1-n0bu]

I just saw elf bf post and id like to suggest for your consideration: elf bf learning what kink is and learning that he has some very unorthodox (for an elf) interests. Maybe he is intrigued by crossdressing, cuckolding, or exhibitionism/voyuerism because the idea is so taboo to an elf. Maybe he wants to try bondage or total power exchange because he’s always been told that partnerships are always equal (or that elves are better than humans) and submitting to a mortal partner makes him feel rebellious (but at the same time he feels safe because the person dominating him is his partner who he trusts). Maybe he has a praise kink because he doesn’t often get told “you’re a good boy and I’m proud of you.”

So many options! I wonder what you’ll do with them? 👀

ouuhhhhh anon this is such a big brain thing, lemme crawl inside ur skull

elves, by the standard of the world so far since nearly the beginning of time, has always been deemed as the ‘best’ race to ever walk the lands. tall, regal, elegant, fairest and wisest eternal beings who don’t even get sick. wounds heal quick unless they’re mortal, or of the broken heart. they don’t tire easily nor are they quick to fall. the perfect race

so what happens when said perfect race falls in love with the imperfect one? when an elf falls in love with a human? and said relationship is taken seriously between said lovers, bound for eternity together, blessed by the stars and the moon? well, you get something like you and your elf husband, a human and an elf, happily married

and extremely happy in the bedroom too

as the most perfect race, elves always had a certain amount of ego to themselves. it’s not so high and mighty to the point they could die if they fall from said ego’s height, but it’s always there. it’s like an instinctive feeling, akin to how humans are instinctively stubborn and passionate. too emotional. and due to their ‘perfection’, elves barely get any words of hostility aimed towards them unless it’s by a few passing dwarves or their kin who had been angered. praise has always been a normal thing to fall upon their pointy ears, so much so they count it as the norm

so for an elf to being into degraded, it is rare and frowned upon. why would the most perfect creatures require any words other than the highest form of acknowledgment? but your husband was into it. and you too, to certain extent. whispering filth into those cute, pointy twitching ears of how disgusting and vile he is to enjoy having human hands on him gets his cock hard in his pants within milliseconds. calling him a slut for moaning out loud when you simply grasp his hair has him rubbing his thighs together, feeling the familiar aching heat in his groin. and stars, have mercy on him when you lean in, strong arms caging him from behind between your warm body and the table as you spit out, “pointy eared whore” into the skin of his neck, hot breath sending shivers down his body. by that point, your elf husband’s all but clawing at your clothes, hopping onto the table all too eagerly as he spreads his legs for you

crossdressing is a mixed feeling for the elven race entirely for one, they are just such an eternally graceful beings to the point it becomes hard to tell the difference between some of their genders and two, their clothes share a lot of similar things. long, flowing clothes made of the finest materials any hands could ever touch

but your hubby loves it! the soft and frilly skirts, the smoothness of the dresses or even the breezy laces and provocative bras and thin underwear with straps to keep them up on the flesh of his hips. and don’t even get him started on his love for the ‘dancer’ outfit. the long loincloth like skirt, the golden chains at the sides to keep them perched on his waist and the tiniest bras possible paired with the mouth covering cloth. your elf husband is your private entertainer for the whole night, swaying his hips, twisting his hands and running them over the curves of his body as he gives you the most shit eating grin underneath the mouth cloth, makeup covered eyes narrowing hypnotically at you

it wouldn’t last too long on his lips when he’s being fucked in the very same outfit, being forced to keep the skirt to the side by his hands so you wouldn’t get it dirty for his next dance. not like it ever happens, your elf hubby’s a little crybaby, whining about how mean and rough you’re handling your dancer, sobbing fat tears about how your rough human hands were leaving bruises on his soft, creamy skin

owh lawddd the amount of times he pulled you to the side, into an empty room or behind some particularly huge tree when out on a walk so you could fuck him behind it has lost count. exhibitionism seems to be one of his favorites since he loves it so much, giggling about a quickie or “i promise, i’ll be silent this time” when you both know it’s not true at all

keep his one leg up with a hand hooked under his knee, pushing his chest flush against the cold marble walls or the bark of the tree for him to cling for stability while the filthy wet smacks of your cock constantly squeezing into his tight hole fills the area. just as loud as the whimpers of your pointy eared husband, whose ears twitch and droop so cutely. who bites down onto his hands and knuckles to shut himself up to no avail, always stuttering out “r-rough..! sho rough♡︎! can’t—can’t haaagh h-hold it i-eek hiigc! c-can’t hold it in ’nymoowr♡︎” as if he wasn’t the one who asked you to pound his pathetic hole until he was seeing stars. it’s as if he doesn’t care that someone could hear or even stars forbid, see them right now! doing such a dirty and private deed out in public place, where any elf with their sharp senses could hear, see or even smell the musky scent of sex

your elf husband’s boobs always jiggle so cutely whenever you fuck him, bouncing as you thrust the strap into his soppy hole. who even has a bit of a thing for feminization, whining out how you were fucking his womb, “y-nyur human d-dick is kissingg ma-agh my cerviiixx♥︎!!”, who rubs a hand over his slightly bloated belly with a dazed look in his eyes, slurring of “… got knocked up… by a human heheeh..♡︎” as if he could get pregnant. who has the cutest shrill squeals whenever you suckle on his nipples, biting around his areola to leave a mark as he weakly slaps at your back, speaking of how fucking animalistic and bestial you are

“s-so cruel… such a vile mortal—!”

elf husband who loves loves lovessssss bondage and sensory deprivation! an absolute rope bunny, he is! choosing the most finest and softest silk in the color he likes for special days, picking up the harsh and rough material ropes for the days when he wants to feel the sting, the pain, the adventure. who is into being tortured and overstimulated, forced to cum beyond what he is used to by your rough hands or hot mouth while his words turn to incoherent babbles as he tugs uselessly against his bindings. he’s just a weak, helpless little bunny in your lair, hungry wolf! please be gentle with your sharp fangs on his tender skin and smooth planes of muscle. such a sweet, innocent bunny like him could never handle the rough mating of days and nights a hungry wolf like you have planned for him♡︎

a bit of a masochistic elf husband who loves to have his senses deprived off of him. hands tied behind him, legs tied in a spread out manner and blindfolded with a dark cloth over his eyes. leave his ears free and make him try and guess what you would do to him. snap a belt or a riding crop onto your hand and watch as he flinches, jolting in place at the sound, wondering when and where it would land on his perfect body. his thighs? arms? chest? stomach? or perhaps even his cock and you would be mean enough to make him count how many hits it takes until he is cumming untouched, soiling his stomach as his blush spread all the way to his shoulders due to the whole shame. make him ponder, make him squeal at the unexpectedness, make him cry out in surprise, make him shake in the excitement of it all. he can take whatever pain and pleasure your human hands could dish out

and when he gets too loud, just shove something into his mouth. maybe a peace of cloth or even your own undergarments, whichever fits, whichever you want. he’ll be chewing on them and wetting it with his tears and saliva by the end of it

aiya yall are corrupting me. animals animals

[n0vazsq]

Maneater | Pablo Gavi x Reader

pairing . . . gavi x secret!love!child!hamilton!reader

summary . . . When your biggest secret is exposed; being the secret love child of the one and only Lewis Hamilton, it seems like your life is over. But then when a boy by the name of Pablo Gavi starts liking your posts, it feels like life isn't so bad anymore

request . . . no!!

word count . . . N/A

warnings . . . none! reader is around 19-20! !! the way gavi speaks is probably not accurate but i'm too sick to fix it so !!

faceclaim . . . maria isabel!

alexavia yaps . . . whether reader is from a one night stand or from a established relationship isnt mentioned so its up to you!! DO WE WANT A PART TWO BTW?? i tried to include the lewis child lore as much as i could but like idk its more of a side plot! the last post it shitty asl but im too sick to fix it my pills are doing shit to me

f1gossip

liked by user872, user1711, user28 and 2.7M others

f1gossip 7 TIME WORLD CHAMPION LEWIS HAMILTON RUMORED TO HAVE A SECRET LOVE CHILD?! last weekend an anonymous source revealed to a popular british magazine that LEWIS HAMILTON had a 18-20 year old (age unknown) daughter! mother is still yet unknown but daughter is called y/n hamilton and has a private instagram Tagged: yourusername, lewishamilton

click to view all comments

username1 WHAT.

username2 excuse me???

username3 when i opened insta this was the LAST thing i expected

username4 oh jesus at first i thought she was his baby mama i got scared

username5 shes so gorgeous tho

username6 IUEYGTHSJIUHS??????

username7 WHT THE FUCKL

username8 LEWIS WHAT????? IM SO sHCOKED????

username9 MY SHAYLAAAAAAAA

username10 y/n is such a pretty name wtf? shes also so pretty sigh

username11 i mean with f1 this was bound to happen some time

username12 yeah but not NOW

username13 dawg lewis has had enough of this media shit first with the ferrari signing and now with this

username14 im giggling at the comments theyre so funny

username15 SHE USED TO GO TO MY SCHOLL??????????

username16 can lewis fight

username17 i'd think so yes

username18 TAGGING THEM IS DIABOLICAL

username19 MAMMA MIA??? MADRE MIA???

username20 i will NOT shut up about this until like 2498

username21 stop why is she so pretty

username22 THE lewis hamilton is her dad

username23 i-

username24 COME AGAIN?? WHAR???

username25 who is lewis hamilton? i got this on my feed i dont know who he is

username26 some random racer idk

username27 the comments being a mix of people freaking out and simping is so funny to me

username28 oh to have lewis hamilton's child

username29 WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF HES SO BEAUTIFUL

username30 Y/N?? YOU MEAN Y/N HAMILTON IS ACTUALLY RELATED TO LEWIS???

username31 I FOLLOW HER AND ALWAYS THOUGHT IT WAS LIKE A SIMILARITY OR SUM

username32 SHE LOOKS LIKE HIM TOO

username33 CRYING HOW HAVE I NEVER NOTICED THIS BEFORE

username34 shes living the dream

username35 i feel so bad for the girl and her mom theyre gonna get so much hate just for existing

username36 sigh i wish i was her

username37 uh whos that? IM lewis' wife

username38 babe.....

username39 this made me laugh ngl

username40 oh god i've met someone more delusional than me that's crazy

username41 FATHERRRRR (literally)

username42 IM SREAMING????

username43 I ALWAYS KNEW LEWIS WAS A DILF

username44 i'm so glad her account is private so yall creeps dont attack her

username45 someone people here are outright DISGUSTING

username46 FR like have some DECENCY this man has a family

username47 sigh i want to be as pretty as her

username48 STUNNING.

username49 can he be my step dad

username50 THE GOAT

username51 ONGGGG

username52 FRRR

username53 the next it girl i can feel it

username54 OMG what if she gets with a driver and we get y/n paddock appearances NOT ONLY as lewis' daughter but also as a wag!!!!

username55 oh!

username56 guys dont forget that they are also human beings!!!!!

username57 THE SECOND PIC IM SOBBING THATS SO CUTEEEE THOO LIKE HER MOM PROTECTING LITTLE Y/N FROM THE PAPARAZZI???

username58 id let him hit me with his car

username59 uh

username60 parents (literally)

NEW NOTIFICATION: pablogavi has started following you !

yourusername

liked by yourbsf, pablogavi, yourmother and 1.1K others

yourusername life updates since my secret got out: 1. i've blocked over 2000 gossip sites and removed over 10k people from my followers, 2. i get 50 death threats every minute, 3. my face is in the front of every magazine (in a bad way)

click to view all comments

username61 oh girl i feel so bad for you

username62 gavi in the likes????

username63 only y/n knows how to make a life crisis aesthetic

username64 and to look so pretty while doing so??

username65 queen behaviour

username66 the outfit is not a want its a NEED

username67 50 death threats every MINUTE is crazy

username68 2000??? girl i know your hands were aching

username69 did lewis say anything about this?

username70 hes gone MIA and hasnt said anything

yourbsf don't listen to them pooks, okay? theyre just jealous because youre so pretty and because your dad is THE lewis hamilton

yourusername this made me smile so wide

yourusername i love you so much its unbelievable 😔

yourbsf me too 😔

yourusername lets get married and run away forever

yourbsf yes we should

yourusername ill buy the rings

username72 im still confused on why PABLO GAVIRA is in the likes like sir this is a bad time to shoot your shot

username73 y/n x bsf/name

username74 the otp fr

username75 the lack of lewis is concerning me

username76 fr like WHERE IS HEEEEEE

yourmother you look stunning my love 🤍

yourusername thank you mama 🫶 all your genes

yourmother you flatter me so much

username77 im not crying you are

yourbsf also check my dms i sent you a little message on SOMEONE peeking in your likes

yourusername ill check out right now.....

username78 im like 109% sure its abt gavi

username79 bro who the fuck is gavi and why is he so important

username80 aww y/n looks so cute

yourfriend1 glowing 🤍

yourbsf damn right she is

yourusername oh...😊 you make me blush

yourbsf well its the truth

yourfriend1 sigh what have i done

yourbsf oi shut up let me admire my beautful girl

yourusername i love you your/bsf/name

yourbsf love you too y/n

yourfriend1 i love you so much friend/name of course we'll never leave you out you're such an amazing friend we can't appreicate it you enough 🤍

yourusername are you okay??

yourbsf girl why are you complimenting yourself

yourfriend1 wow yourfriend1 you're so loved around here <33 i'm jealous

username81 HELP IM SOBBING THEIR CONVOS ARE SO FUNNY

username82 how is she so calm wtf

username83 if she ever gets famous NEVER pr train yourbsf

username84 Y/N DONT LET THE HATE GET TO YOU WE ALL LOVE YOU!!!!!!

username85 legit royalty vibes

username86 imagine being this beautiful sigh

pablogavi ❤ Liked by creator

username87 EH???????

username88 i am JEALOUS, ENVIOUS, GREEN.

username89 GAVI????

username90 i cannot tell if they are together or if hes flirting

username91 MY man

username92 gorgeous gorgeous girl

username93 stop i feel so bad for her

username94 the hate is deserved Comment has been deleted by creator

username95 sooooo is everyone js gonna move on from gavi's comment or...?

username96 holy fuck imagine waking up one day and your biggest secret is out to the world

username97 where to buy that hair asking for a friend

username98 if i could just maul every journalist and reporter that bothers her

username99 im waiting for the fics on her nd gavi

username100 y/n how are you doing so far

yourusername could be better, feel like crying everytime i look out my window

username100 you doesnt deserve the hate babe, we all love you so much

yourusername STOP IM GOING TO CRY 🫶🥹 THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH

yourmother you really don't, gorgeous. we're all here for you

username101 every being so supportive is so sweet like yes y/n fans are the best

username102 100% agreed

username101 like we ARE the best fandom

username102 EXACTLY stan y/n fans for life

username103 dont know if i should be shocked or unsurpirsed

username104 both

username105 HER BESTFRIEND BEING THE SUPPORTIVE OLDER SISTER FIGURE MY HEARTTTTT

username106 i just know damn well lewis is on the verge of tears

username107 SHES SO GORGEOUS I CANT

username108 if lewis doesnt comment on this i will personally go over to him and force him to

username109 me and y/n are in a parasocial relationship btw

username110 y/n and gavi are my dream couple frrrr

NEW NOTIFICATION: pablogavi has liked 8 of your posts !

INSTAGRAM TEXTS BETWEEN YOU AND @yourbsf

yourusername: sooo???

yourbsf: so this footballer

yourbsf: his name is gavi

yourbsf: and he has liked 20 of your posts

yourusername: whats the problem with that tho i randomly see ppl doing that

yourbsf: he followed you after the article gossip page thing idk got out

yourbsf: THEN he commented a heart emoji which YOU liked

yourusername: what if hes an undercover journalist you never know

yourusername: besides

yourusername: i do NOT remember liking his comment 😭

yourbsf: girl what

yourbsf: he is a world wide known footballer who plays for one of the biggest clubs in the world and has more than 17 million followers

yourbsf: i dont think he'd be an undercover journalist

yourbsf: and you didn't exclude him from the 10k followers you removed after you made your acc private...

yourusername: he could still be a journalist in his secret time you never know

yourusername: running a blog then writing "xoxo gossip girl" at the end of it 😭😭😭😭

yourusername: but like in my defense

yourusername: maybe he followed while i was removing the followers and i didnt see him

yourbsf: your defense is shittier than my shit

yourbsf: y/n don't play games with me you know how i am

yourbsf: besides you have to admit you looked through his acc

yourusername: FINE ILL ADMIT IT

yourusername: hes kinda cute.....

yourusername: KINDA

yourusername: happy now??

yourbsf: yes i am happy now

yourbsf: also kinda my ass your in love with him

yourbsf: i can see your heart eyes through the screen

yourusername: yeah yeah

yourusername: if i post another post and he comments something like a heart or idk ill dm him

yourbsf: bet

yourbsf: send me screenshots

yourusername: i wont bc him commenting in one post is just a COINCEDENCE

yourbsf: say whatever you want y/n

yourbsf: we both know the truth

yourbsf: make sure to capture the whole convo

yourusername: fuck off ❤

yourbsf: see thats the same heart he commented

yourusername: throw yourself into incoming traffic i hate you

yourbsf: you dont <33

NEW NOTIFICATION: pablogavi has liked 29 of your posts !

yourusername has posted two new stories !

caption 1: 💙 // caption 2: in barca 🇪🇸

story liked by pablogavi, yourbsf, lewishamilton and 1K others

view all story replies

yourbsf so youre in barca now? do i need to remind you who lives in barca too?

yourusername hush

yourbsf did he like it yet?

yourusername before you even

yourbsf and you say he doesnt like you

yourusername ITS JUST A COINCEDENCE

yourbsf keep repeating that to yourself until you believe it

yourusername die

username111 PRETYYYY

username112 in barcelona for someone specific? 👀

username113 barca boy and barca girl, couldnt have been better

username114 please be there for gavi

yourmother stunning 🫶 take care and be safe!

yourusername will do! i've given my location to bsf/name and i'll share it with you now

yourmother your father will met you there, yes?

yourusername yes! we've arranged a meeting in this fancy restaurant

yourmother don't forget to send me pictures

yourusername i won't

lewishamilton ❤ Message liked by creator

pablogavi hermosa 💙 ❤

yourusername muchas gracias 🫶

pablogavi you know spanish?

yourusername just a tiny bit

pablogavi we can meet up sometime then so i can teach you

pablogavi how long will you be here for?

yourusername around two weeks!

pablogavi better come to a match then and i'll teach you if we win

yourusername and if you lose?

pablogavi you teach me english

yourusername yours is already good though

pablogavi i could use some pratice

yourusername deal

pablogavi ill need to contact you so i can send the details

yourusername is this your way of asking for my number?

pablogavi maybe

yourusername smooth

yourusername my number is XXXXXXXX

pablogavi sent a message

yourusername "hola linda"? really?

pablogavi im just saying the truth

yourusername you amaze me

pablogavi i'm glad

username115 love is in the air eh?

username116 that fit is so adorable omgg

username117 gavi gavi gavi gavi gavi gavi

NEW NOTIFICATION: pablogavi has liked 11 of your posts and 39 highlights !

NEW NOTIFICATION: lewishamlton has started following you !

yourusername

liked by pablogavi, yourbsf, lewishamilton and 1.2K others

yourusername when in barcelona 💙 ❤ VISCA EL BARCA Tagged: fcbarcelona, lewishamilton

click to view all comments

username118 y/n tell us everything that happened please

yourusername this is gonna be a long one

yourusername so i went to barca to discuss some legal and press stuff with my father then i got invited to attend a barcelona match in a deal to exchange language knowledge and they won so now i am receiving help in learning spanish

username118 thats a lot to take in....? anyway what happened with lewis??

yourusername he and my mother will try to get back together but until then they both own custody over me and now i am officialy lewis hamilton's daughter for real and you might see me in the paddock

username119 Y/N PADDOCK APPEARANCES LETS FUCKING GOOOO

username120 YES YES YES YES i dont understand why in barcelona but yeah IM SO HAPPY

yourbsf i love you so much gorgeous i hope you had funn

yourusername i love you more my beloved princess 🫶 i had so much fun but it'd be so much better with you

yourbsf i'll be hopping on a plane soon trust me

yourusername until then someone else will keep me company

yourbsf oh?

yourmother i'm glad you had fun in barcelona darling! i love you so much and tell your father that i said hi!

lewishamilton ❤❤

yourusername 🫶

username121 STOPP MY HEART CANT TAKE THIS LIKE ANOTHER BOMB DROPPING ON US FROM Y/N??? STOP

username122 girl is not even tryna hide it

username123 bro is NOT slick

username124 IKR???

username125 atp i think she WANTS us to know

username126 omg i died watching the match bc VISCA BARCA RAHHH

barcapix she's a maneater make you buy cars make you cut cards make you fall real hard in love

username127 SHES A CULER?? NOOOOOOOOOOOOO

username128 DID ANYONE SEE GAVI POINTING AT THE STANDS??

username129 YESSS OMG I LEGIT PASSED OUT

username130 THEYRE SUCH CUTIESSS AHHH

nicorosberg welcome to the family y/n, expect christmas gifts from me

yourusername thank you nico! will do!

username131 FUCK OFF

username132 NICO MOTHERFUCKING ROSBERG SAYING WELCOME TO THE FAMILY?????

username133 BROCEDES IS REAL HERES THE CONFORMATION

username134 this post might be the biggest headline of the 21st century

username135 ISYG BAJJHSSYHSUJKKIUHBHNJWMK

username136 I JUST CAME BACK FROM SUMMER CAMP WTF??? IS THIS HOW I FIND OUT LEWIS HAS A DAUGHTER AND SHE MIGHT BE DATIGNG GAVI???

username137 screaming crying throwing up

username138 killing myself because of this

username139 wait for me

username140 they should get a reality show

yourbsf take care of my baby sister, sir lewis hamilton. i trust you with her, dont disappoint me

lewishamilton dont worry, i wont. i love her more than anything

yourbsf good

username141 are we going to ignore this or what

username142 we have more important things to worry about (aka gavi)

username143 girl at least be subtle

username144 i wish i was rich

username145 HALA MADRID

username146 lets make this an actual book bc wtf

username147 so like when will it be my turn

username148 weirdest story of this centruy

username149 no lies said

username150 gavi liked and he didnt comment hmmmm

username151 oh jolly this is so beautiful

username152 THE AESTHETIC ATE UPPPPPP

username153 gavi on holiday with the hamilton family????

username154 who knows maybe we'll never know

username155 the whole family is so gorgeous wtff

username156 your honour i love them

pablogavi did you enjoy the match?

yourusername yes a lot! thanks for inviting me!!

pablogavi i'm glad you enjoyed it, see you next time maybe?

yourusername we'll see if my schedule is clear

pablogavi let me know then

username157 EXCUSE ME??????

username158 so he invited her so he can teach her spanish but then is asking her out again?????

username159 oh to be rich

username160 living vicarously through her wtf

username161 sigh i wish i was y/n or even just like a part of the hamilton family a servant even

username162 id LOVE to be her maid or sum

username163 Y/N GIVE US GAVI CONTENT !!!!!!!!!

username164 REAL

username165 im STARVING for lewis pics

username166 to be hot and have a hot boyfriend is the LIFE (idc that it isnt confirmed she basically hard launched with that pic)

yourbsf i guess those pictures you nearly killed yourself to take of the stadium were worth it after all

yourusername they always are and besides i just tripped over a loose concrete slab

yourbsf they dont leave them lying around like that stop lying

yourusername how about no ❤

yourbsf ill leak our dms

yourusername the dms in which you blackmailed and gaslighted me

yourmother what blackmail??

yourusername YOU DONT NEED TO KNOW

yourbsf it was basically when y/n was

yourusername STOPPPP youve had enough already

yourbsf ive gotten ZERO updates on the situation this entire trip y/n

yourusername BECAUSE THERE WERENT ANY

yourusername there were but i wont tell you until i come back because its vocal updates not text-ual updates

yourbsf i see i see

yourbsf WELL HURRY THE FUCK UP AND COME BACK

username167 this is the meaning of chaos

username168 PURE HAVOC

username169 now i understand why y/n's mother never lets them be together OR apart for more than 48 hours

username170 we NEED to know about the updates wtf

username171 gavi and y/n sitting in a tree

username172 id sell my left kidney to get them together

username173 THE AESHETIC. MOTHER Y/N ATEEE

username174 on my fucking knees for her

username176 id die and come back just to experience these photos

username177 our queen is gaining fame dni

username178 is it bad that im making heart eyes at her

username179 totally not, i too am making heart eyes at y/n hamilton

username180 my beloved girl and her barcelona boy sigh

lewishamilton

liked by yourusername, yourbsf, yourmother and 28.7M others

lewishamilton reunited 🤍 i would rather her boyfriend didn't come but anything for my princess Tagged: yourusername

comments on this post have been limited

yourusername aww thank you 🤍

lewishamilton anything for you

yourmother i'm glad you're enjoying the trip! send me lots of pics of y/n and her boyfriend for my photo album

lewishamilton will do! when you finish it send me a copy!

yourmother of course ❤

pablogavi congrats! Liked by creator

yourbsf sooo uncle sir lewis hamilton will you be able to take me to the paddock?

lewishamilton sure?

yourbsf great time to convince some drivers to marry me

yourusername youre literally 20

yourbsf and? i don't mind an age difference

yourusername try f2

yourbsf good idea but only the ones that are 20 or above i don't want to be a predator

yourusername or maybe become a wag of a diff sport like football

yourbsf so i can take the same path as you? This reply has been deleted

yourbsf i'll see

yourusername great!

lewishamilton should i be concerned?

yourusername no!!

lewishamilton alright....

nicorosberg congratulations

yourusername soooo will he able to come to family gatherings one day??

yourmother sure!

lewishamilton no

lewishamilton i mean sure whatever your mother says is best

yourbsf should i say it

yourusername DONT you dare

yourbsf fine

yourmother but won't your boyfriend be long distance? since... well you know

yourusername i didn't think of that

lewishamilton i did

yourusername YOULL FLY HIM OUT>??

lewishamilton no

yourusername brb going to sob my ass off

yourbsf great tactic uncle sir lewis hamilton now she'll tell me everything about them

lewishamilton thank you?

yourbsf you're welcome!!

INSTAGRAM TEXTS BETWEEN YOU AND @pablogavi

pablogavi: i'll miss seeing you in the stands

yourusername: i'll miss being in them

pablogavi: i think you're my good luck charm

pablogavi: make sure to watch our matches

yourusername: who knew the pablo gavira could be so cheesy??

yourusername: but i will

yourusername: i think i'm starting to like football now

pablogavi: you should

pablogavi: since you'll be coming to more matches now

yourusername: oh?

yourusername: well i'll be waiting for my tickets

yourusername: and make sure they don't overlap with the f1 races

pablogavi: don't worry about that

pablogavi: i'll have everything sorted out for you

yourusername: such a gentleman

pablogavi: only for the best

yourusername: you flatter me

pablogavi: they say its not flattery if its true

yourusername: what did i get myself into

yourusername: you're so sappy it's cute atp

yourusername: but anyway

yourusername: my flight leaves in 30 minutes so i have to go now

pablogavi: cute? i'll take it

pablogavi: text me when you land

yourusername: i will !!

pablogavi: have a safe flight carino

pablogavi: i'll call you asap

yourusername: gracias hermoso

yourusername: can't wait for it

yourusername has posted two new stories !

caption 1: i think i love him 🤍// caption 2: goodbye barca, i'll miss you 🇪🇸

story liked by pablogavi, yourbsf, yourmother and 1.1K others

to be continued....?

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaaa ,, @notm4d1 ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @bernalswifeyy ,, @nngkay ,, @justaf1girl ,, @iamred-iamyellow (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Conrad deserves better than Belly. After he sees Jere and her kiss, he get his ass to Stanford and meet this cute and smart maybe tutor girl (Haley James style) and falls in love with her and then they show up at Jere's wedding years later and Belly is jelly

I've spent the last five days working on this one.

p.s. it's 2k words...

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When Conrad finished his exam, he went back to Jeremiah and Belly. He was going to tell and confess his love to her before she had to get home, but when he got to his car, the scene Conrad walked on made him sick to his stomach: Belly and Jeremiah were full on making out against his car. He stopped short of the car and cleared his throat, causing the two to spring apart from their heated kiss and see Conrad looking right at them. 

Conrad’s face was white. He would rather have had someone shoot him in the head with a nail gun, repeatedly, than have to watch the two of them kissing.

He didn't know who he was more angry at. Belly, who, not even a day ago, had told him she would have fought harder for him if she knew he loved her that much. Or Jeremiah, who, although he knew how much Belly meant to his brother and how fucking in love he was with her, seized the opportunity to kiss Belly the moment he was alone with her.

‘’Conrad—’’ Belly started, guilt settling in her guts. 

He cut her off, his voice cold and cutting. ‘’I don’t want to hear it.’’ 

His gaze shifted from Belly to Jeremiah. There was so much hate in his eyes. How could Jere do that to him? They agreed to stop hiding things from each other and talk, but Jeremiah must have forgotten already. 

‘’You broke up with her, Con, remember? We did nothing wrong,’’ Jeremiah said, pulling facts in his favor to make himself feel better — less guilty — for kissing his brother’s ex.  

When Conrad kissed Belly on the beach last summer, he didn’t know she and Jeremiah were a thing — if he could call it that — or that he liked her. If he had, he wouldn’t have kissed Belly or confessed his feelings to her. Had the situation had been in reverse, Conrad wasn’t sure Jeremiah would have backed off. 

‘’I’m done.’’ Conrad's voice was resolute, his heart heavy as he turned away, unable to bear the sight of them any longer.

Jeremiah moved to follow, calling out Conrad's name. He didn’t stop, needing to be as far as possible from the painful scene. His mind was racing with a jumble of emotions. Anger, betrayal, and a profound hurt gnawed at him. He had trusted both Belly and Jeremiah, yet they pulled this shit behind his back. 

‘’Why do you always have to act like that?’’ Jeremiah said as he quickened his pace to catch up. 

Finally, Conrad turned to face Jeremiah, his expression a mix of sorrow and resentment. ‘’You don’t get to tell me how to react, Jere. You kiss the girl I love outside my school, against my car while she’s wearing my sweatshirt. If you don’t see how disgusting and messed up it all sounds—’’

‘’She kissed me,’’ the younger one quickly defended. 

 Hearing this made him want to pack his bags, get his ass to stanford and focus on school. He needed to turn the Belly page, and in order to do that, he needed to be away from both she and Jeremiah. California seemed far enough, right?

*

The first days and weeks were tough for Conrad, struggling to accept the definite end of the relationship. She was still all over him like a wine-stained shirt he couldn’t wear anymore. 

He blocked both Belly and Jeremiah’ numbers. If he wanted to move on, he had to keep his distance from them. For a while, at least. Then, he deleted all the old pictures he kept of Belly on his phone. There was no going back for them anymore. 

He was done.

*

You met Conrad a little before Christmas break. Just like those cliché rom-coms, you walked right into him and spilled your chai latte all over his sweater. You wanted to break the cliché and not fall for the victim of your clumsiness, but after one look into those beautiful blue eyes, you knew it would be impossible. 

 After that day, you kept crossing paths around campus and, one afternoon, you asked him out. He was so surprised, but he said ‘yes’. 

Although you had sealed the end of the night with a few kisses, you decided to take things slow. You had a very busy schedule with the tutoring lessons on top of your regular program, and Conrad was unsure if it was too soon to get in another relationship, if he was ready for it. The scar Belly had left on his heart was healing, but was he ready to open his heart to someone again? 

‘’Have you ever been in love?’’ you asked one night in his dorm while studying. 

Your question had caught Conrad off guard. It was visible on his face. 

‘’Have you?’’ he returned, not taking his eyes off his textbook. 

He was trying to dodge the question. 

‘’I asked you first,’’ you said, seeing through his plan.

‘’Then yes.’’

‘’How many times?’’

‘’Once.’’

His answers were flat, annoyed he was by all your questions. He wished you would stop and get back to studying in silence, but you kept going. 

‘’On a scale of one to ten, how in love were you?’’

‘’You can’t put being in love on a scale,’’ he said, lifting his head with furrowed eyebrows. ‘’Either you are or you aren’t.’’

‘’But if you had to say.’’

Conrad started flipping through his notes. He hadn’t thought of Belly in months. He missed her — in a different way he used to. She was his friend before they got tangled into this mess.

He didn’t look at you when he finally said it. ‘’Ten.’’

*

The more time he spent in your presence, the more Conrad was — unknowingly — letting go of his past. 

The pictures he deleted months ago became pictures of you, filling his phone until there was no space left. The smell of your perfume lingered on some of his clothes and in his car. He had your coffee order memorized, along with your favorite study-break snack, which he made sure to have in stock in his dorm. 

You became part of his routine — part of his life —, brightening his days even on his darkest, saddest nights. 

He didn’t want to bother you, but nothing was calming the ache in his chest. He tried getting some air and smoking weed, he even thought of calling Laurel, but it was almost 2am in Pennsylvania. Conrad didn’t want to scare her. 

So he pulled up your contact and called, the weight of his grief still heavy in his heart, wishing Susannah was still there. He couldn't believe a full year had gone by since she took her last breath. 

You were about to slip into bed when you saw his name flashing on your phone. You almost didn’t pick up, but you got a gut feeling that he needed you. 

When you opened your door, a saddened look was etched onto Conrad's face, his beautiful eyes glistening with unshed tears. The sight pulled at your heart and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him for the whole night.

Supported each other through finals and all-nighters.

‘’Getting tired?’’ you said, catching him actively fighting against his own eyelids. 

Conrad shook his head, taking a long gulp of his coffee. ‘’No time for sleep. I have this huge exam first thing tomorrow and I still have a lot of chapters to cover.’’

‘’You can take a short nap if you want. I’ll wake you in thirty minutes,’’ you kindly offered, flipping through your notes for a specific annotation. 

‘’Nah, I’m good.’’ He flashed you a soft smile, then returned to his studying. 

A few minutes later, and you couldn't help but notice that Conrad's eyes had begun to droop. They would halfway close and then he would either blink a bunch of times, or widen his eyes until they were bug eyed. It was cute.

‘’Con? Conrad?’’ you called out gently. 

‘’I'm not sleeping. I'm resting my eyes,’’ he mumbled defensively, fighting fatigue.

There was no way he was getting through the night, so you put your notes down and slipped on Conrad’s flannel shirt that was on the back of your chair to shield you from the night air. ‘’We’re gonna need more coffee.’’ 

As you came back with two fresh cups of coffee, you found Conrad fast asleep on your pillow, still clutching his pen.

And held his hand through the rainiest times — literally.

‘’Isn't California supposed to be the sunniest state?’’ Conrad asked, watching the downpour through the windshield, drenched from head to toe. ‘’The seats are all wet...’’ 

‘’You gotta learn to live with the consequences of your own actions, Connie baby.’’ 

It was his idea to get waffles when the sky was looking very gray and angry. He insisted that it would clear out, but a loud clap of thunder echoed on your way back to the car and rain started pouring. You took the road back to campus, but it got too dangerous, forcing Conrad to stop the car on the shoulder of the road and wait for the rain to calm. 

You wiped your face with the sleeve of your hoodie and a smile curled on Conrad’s lips, still the most beautiful to his eyes despite your wet hair and the slight smear of mascara under your eyes. 

 ‘’Rain happens everywhere. Even in the dryest desert,’’ you reminded him, pulling out your phone to check the weather app.‘’Unfortunately, this one isn't gonna stop anytime soon.’’

You toed off your sneakers, making Conrad draw his eyebrows.

‘’What are you doing?’’

‘’We’re gonna be here for a while.’’ You peeled off your hoodie — also wet from the rain —, leaving you in your skirt and dainty bralette. ‘’Might as well occupy ourselves,’’ you explained before leaning over the middle console and kissing him, fastening yourself to him with a stitch. 

The kiss took him by surprise, but he wasn’t complaining. He could spend hours kissing you and never get bored. 

You crawled over the console and on Conrad’s lap without breaking contact, your hands easily finding grip on his hair as you felt his hands all over your body, caressing and pulling. The windows were fogging quickly around you, creating a veil of privacy as more layers were peeled off.

Conrad once believed he had found love, that Belly was it for him, but the feelings he felt back then were nothing compared to how he felt right now. 

‘’You’re the best thing that happened to me,’’ he confessed, his forehead pressed against yours. 

*

The invitation came in a few weeks before the wedding. Conrad couldn’t believe his brother was going through with this. Everything was happening so fast and seemed rushed. Him and Belly weren’t even twenty. Who gets married so young anymore? 

He arrived in Cousins a few days prior to the wedding, surprising everyone — and stealing the attention from the soon-to-be-weds — when they saw a girl with him. 

The only person who knew exactly who you were was Steven. A few months ago, you had posted a picture with Conrad at the beach and tagged him, leading to Steven finding out about his friend’s new girlfriend. He was surprised when he saw it, but very happy for Conrad. He deserved better than someone who plays between two hearts. 

Laurel put down the table-center she was holding and went over to pull Conrad in a hug. She turned to you, making quick introductions, and Conrad held his breath. He’s always been close to Laurel and her approval meant more to him than his father’s or Jeremiah’s. 

While the two of you engaged into a conversation, he saw her. Belly. Dressed in a white sundress and talking to Taylor, she looked just the same. The only difference was, Conrad felt nothing. No pain, no old feelings rising back. 

For the first time, what’s past was past.

‘’Belly, come greet Connie and his girlfriend,’’ Laurel called out to her daughter. 

Although you had never met her, you could tell exactly who she was in the room — and not only because her dress was white. The jealousy filling her eyes when they fell on you gave her away.

—

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[sturnlsstuff]

FAMILIAR STRANGER | chapter one

what's gonna happen when you find out about your enemy's biggest secret?

ghostface!chris x enemy!reader

chapter two

— warnings; smut with plot, dom!chris, sub!reader, bratty reader, rough, cursing, blood, use of a knife, mentions of murder, kind of violent???, slow burn lowkey, - english isn't my first language.

— a/n; this is for this person from my inbox who wanted me to do something similar to ghostface!matt but with chris instead. hope u like it xx

~~~

the music was blasting in your ears as you and your bestfriend emma swayed your hips to the beat, surrounded by the hundreds of other people's sweaty bodies. a normal friday evening in the frat house. you were already a little tipsy, always loving the feeling of alcohol in your veins, especially on such occasions.

at some point you felt hands on your waist and the body of a person behind you. looking over your shoulder you see some quite cute guy, so being a single and fun loving person, you started dancing with him, your ass rubbing against his crotch from time to time, his hands roaming all over your body.

it didn't take you long to find yourself in the corner of the hallway, pressed against the wall next to the bathroom, making out with this guy. music here was a bit quieter, there were a lot of couples here doing the same thing as you, it was such a normal thing in a frat. your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, his hands still touching you everywhere, which at some point started to make you feel slightly uncomfortable, but you continued kissing him, telling yourself that you needed to relax.

"fuck, they were right..." the guy mutters against your neck, sucking on your skin, but you didn't want a hickey. definitely not from some random. grabbing his jaw, you lift his head up to meet with his stare. the way he was looking at you, like you were some kind of animal and he was a hunter.

"what?" you frowned, not knowing what he was talking about.

"you know... the rumors..." he mutters, going back to kissing your neck as you freeze. the rumors. rumors that your sick, toxic ex-boyfriend recently came up with. you broke up with him after catching him cheating on you for the hundred time, so you finally left him for good. you weren't upset, there was no tears, you just finally felt... free. as if someone had given you the air back. however, he felt humiliated that you weren't crawling back to him like before, so he told everyone that you were a whore and you were the one who was constantly cheating on him. unfortunately for you, he was the second most popular frat boy, after your even bigger enemy, chris sturniolo. so of course everyone believed your ex and you've been considered a slut for almost a month.

"you really are so easy..." the guy's hands squeezing your ass was what brought you back to reality.

feeling the anger building inside you, you push the guy away from you, glaring at him, "the fuck did you say?"

"he said what everyone finally will see."

with wide eyes, you watch your ex boyfriend jake pushing himself off the kitchen doorway. with a phone in his hand and that disgusting smile on his face, he steps closer to where you and the random guy were standing. you hadn't noticed him before, which made your stomach backflip. you look between the two men in confusion, which makes your ex laugh.

"look, honey... you just proved me right. you really are a slut." jake says and shows you the screen of his phone, with a video of you and this guy making out against the wall, his hands on your waist and then your ass. it looked like you were enjoying it.

that's when it clicks in your head. your ex planned this. he wanted to give people proof that you are the whore he claims you to be. him and that guy were friends and you realized this when they high five.

"you are a fucking dick, jake." the anger and humiliation you felt in that moment, mixed with the alcohol in your veins, make you raise your hand to slap him, but he's faster and grabs your wrist, pushing you back against the wall. there was still that smirk on his face, but his eyes had darkened. you knew that look well, he'd always give you it when you were still together and you didn't do what he wanted.

"watch your goddamn mouth, bitch." he hisses through gritted teeth, his grip on your wrist tightening when you try to free yourself from him and push him away.

"for the record, i started having fun, so if you wanna continue..." the other guy says, stepping closer as well and running his fingers down your neck, causing you to feel nauseous.

"fuck you." you slap his hand away, making both of the guys laugh.

"ah, she really has a filthy mouth. i like it."

"told you," your ex grins, licking his lips and looking at his phone, still holding your wrist tightly. "i think i should send it to everyone at campus. don't you think, honey?"

"don't call me that," you say annoyed, trying to hide the panic that was starting to bubble up inside you. the last thing you wanted was for this video to end up online. you weren't a slut, your ex was the only guy you ever dated or slept with. you had already been over a month after the breakup and today just wanted to have some fun. not necessarily have sex, but just get drunk and make out with someone a little. apparently it was your mistake and now you had to pay for it.

"but it suits you so well," he tilts his head to the side, looking back at your annoyed expression. "you're so sweet. taste so sweet. hey, you should try." jake says to the other guy, who was smiling widely at you, practically eye-fucking you now. it made you feel sick.

"you two are fucking crazy," you say, trying to walk past them and get yourself out of this situation, not even caring about the video anymore. you just wanted to get away from them. the look in their eyes was just so disgusting.

"aww, you're leaving already? look, bro, she wanna leave us." they both block your path, trapping you between them and the wall, the grip on your wrist even stronger, definitely leaving marks.

"let me go," you say, trying to sound confident.

you weren't a fearful, shy person. the total opposite. you held your ground, always saying what you thought and you certainly dealt well with annoying men. for a long time, while in a toxic relationship, you wondered how you with your personality, ended up in such a situation. actually everyone around you were surprised, but now after the broke up, you thought maybe this relationship gave you even more temperament.

but probably even the strongest, independent woman ever would be stressed out with two disgusting drunk men in front of them, who didn't want to let her go.

"nah, we're just starting to have fun..." jake smirks, giving his phone to the guy next to him and now putting both of his hands on your waist, while the other guy takes pictures. you try to push him away, but he was too strong. like a stone.

"didn't she tell you to leave her alone?" you hear a familiar voice.

both guys are pushed away from you by their shoulders, your stare met with the intense blue eyes, scanning your face for a second before turning to the two guys, practically hiding you behind him. you had no idea how did he get here. everyone else on the hallway were too wasted to even notice anything.

"two against one girl? not really gentlemen of you boys." chris speaks up mockingly, glaring at both guys who looked surprised for a second. your ex quickly composes himself and smirks, patting chris on the shoulder. his hand is quickly pushed away, causing him to put his hands up in surrender.

"chris, bro, chill." he chuckles, "we're just having fun. right, honey?" your ex looks at you as you come out from behind chris, your heart finally stops beating so fast. now you were more angry than scared.

"you don't know what fun means, idiot."

"ahhh, see?" he clicks his tongue against his teeth, looking back at chris, "she's just so mean. i definitely can show her what fun means. someone has to put her in her place, bro."

"it's definitely not gonna be you, bro." he says the last word with dripping irony, clearly mocking your ex, his smirk immediately disappearing from his face. "listen, man, i don't have the whole night for your bullshit. i actually don't really give a fuck 'bout your reasons either."

chris speaks calmly, but you can notice his shoulders were a little tense with irritation. you were sure that if his eyes could throw knives, your ex would already be dead.

"'cos there's never a good reason to treat a woman like this." chris takes a step closer to your ex, "ya hear me?"

saying that you were confused was an understatement. chris standing up for you? a really new thing.

"come on, bro, let's go," the other guy who had only been watching the situation until now, finally speaks up, grabbing jake's arm and getting his attention. "there's no point."

"yeah, listen to your little bitch and go," chris says sarcastically, smirking.

your ex narrows his eyes back at chris and points his finger at him, "don't piss me off, bro. i'll let it slide this time, 'cos you don't know her like i do. it's not worth us arguing."

"yeah, you're right," chris tilts his head to the side and clicks his tongue again his teeth. "you ain't worth my time. so get the fuck outta here."

it was clear that your ex' ego got hurt really bad, but the other guy almost dragged him away from you and chris, disappearing somewhere in the crowd of drunk people. meanwhile you were staring at chris in shock.

it was no secret that you two didn't like each other. your bestfriend emma started dating chris's triplet brother matt in your junior year of high school, which is how you met also chris and nick. you were now in college, you and chris's brothers were good friends, hanging out really often, but chris was always more... cold, distant. you don't even know how it really started, just from word to word and arguments started to appear between the two of you. having an attitude was usually getting you into trouble and he was a bit mean too, so you two weren't able to get along. that's how it's always been. chris seemed like he never cared about anything, so you were slightly confused now.

"i'm talkin' to you," his voice brings you back to reality. you blink and frown a little, the intensity of his eyes making you shiver. he looked really calm and almost bored. "y'have some starin' problem? stop doin' that you weirdo."

you clear your throat, crossing your arms over your chest, "i didn't need you to play some kind of hero."

"yeah, you're fuckin' welcome by the way," chris scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"i could deal with them by myself..."

"mhm, you were clearly doing a great fuckin' job," he says sarcastically, not believing you. it's not like you didn't appreciate him helping you, but your pride wouldn't let you thank him. "you can show some gratitude by keepin' your mouth shut and not tellin' anyone 'bout all this."

"don't worry, i'm not planning on doing that," now you roll your eyes.

"what was this about anyway?" he asks casually, not sounding even a little interested and causing you to scoff. "none of your business chris," that's all you say and despite your curiosity about why did he help you, you decided to leave and find your bestfriend. as you walked away, chris's eyes never left you for even a second. what you didn't know was that chris was in the bathroom the whole time, and heard everything your ex and his friend said to you. so he knew everything.

—

the next day was like a fever dream. not only did you spend the whole day recovering from a terrible hangover, but you also heard some news from tv, that weren't really helping the situation. the ghostface killer who has been terrorizing the city lately has killed another person. your ex-boyfriend.

constant ringing in your ears and that strange feeling, as if something that had been oppressing you for so long had finally let you breathe, were with you the whole day. you weren't able to respond to your friends' messages or think straight, it took you a whole day to even understand that jake was found dead. he was killed. it did make you feel uneasy like someone punched you in the gut, but the more you thought about it, the more you felt surprisingly... calm.

the hours passed and you found yourself constantly thinking about his death, but feeling nothing. you didn't know why you didn't feel anything. you hated jake but at some point he meant something to you. you felt so weird, that you spent the rest of the evening outside walking around, needing to get some air and sort your thoughts out.

you and him were together for almost two years, at first you were completely obsessed with him and his kindness, but then after a while, he showed you his true face, making you hate him more and more with each day. the reason why you didn't leave is just that you were already so used to him, and he'd always manipulate you for thinking that you're gonna be nothing without him.

you knew you didn't love him. you weren't really sure what even love is. if you did love him, you would probably be upset right now, but you aren't. though it made you feel a little ashamed, you didn't even tell your bestfriend that you don't feel anything at all about your ex' death. it'd make people think you're crazy and they already thought you're a slut, so you didn't need more rumors, even if you knew emma wouldn't tell anyone. still you had this thought in the back of your head that maybe she would judge you, which you don't need it, so you stayed silent the whole day.

it was now getting really late, so you decided to come back to your small apartment, that your parents rented for you near the university so that you wouldn't have to share a room with anyone on campus. locking the door behind you, you almost stumble over the random package on the floor. that was definitely not yours. at least you don't remember leaving it here. curious, you grab it and go to the kitchen, turning on the lights and opening the box.

with a frown, you take out a phone, slight streaks on the case and only after a few seconds you realize that it was blood. before you can even process it, your phone rings, making you jump in place and drop that device back into the box.

seeing that it was an unknown number, you ignore it at first. it finally stops ringing, making your attention come back on the random package you got, but then the same unknown caller appears on your screen again.

with an eye-roll, you decide to pick up, "hello?"

"why don't you wanna talk to me?" chris was using a voice moderator so you heard a deep, low voice, you weren't able to recognize.

"who is this?"

"you tell me your name, i tell you mine."

you chuckled, "i don't think so." a small frown appearing between your eyebrows as you turned on the phone from the box. a photo of the car on the lockscreen. a car you recognized.

"don't girls like you watch movies and eat popcorn at such peaceful saturday evenings?"

"girls like me?" you ask dismissively, trying to unlock the phone that you were now sure belonged to jake. "maybe."

"you don't like movies?"

"i do."

"what kind of movies do you watch?" he asks you, just as you type in jake's date of birth and the phone unlocks.

"i don't know... like romance or scary movies..."

"ahh, you like scary movies?" by the tone of his voice you could tell he was smiling right now, "and what's your favorite scary movie?"

"uh, i don't know.."

"you have to have a favorite... what comes to mind?"

you sigh, stopping what you were doing and now focusing more on the conversation, "um... halloween." after a small silence, you add, "you know, the one with the guy in a white mask, who walks around and stalks babysitters?"

"yeaah.."

"what's yours?" you sit down, leaning back in the chair.

"guess."

you think for a moment, trying to remember any other scary movies you've seen. "hmm... 'nightmare on elm street.'"

"is that the one where the guy had knives for fingers?"

you nod even if he wasn't able to see you, "yeah, freddy krueger."

"freddy! that's right," the person says, "i like that movie. it was scary."

"yeah, the first one was, but the rest sucked..." you unlock jake's phone again, wondering why and how the hell did you get it.

"soo... you got a boyfriend?"

you chuckle at the question, deciding to continue whatever was going on right now. "why? you wanna ask me out on a date?"

"maybe... do you have a boyfriend?" he repeats his question.

"no," you answer after a moment, feeling almost relieved that you don't have.

"you never told me your name..." he mutters, while you open jake's camera roll and find the video he recorded at the party. your heart is now racing when you click on it.

"why you wanna know my name?" you ask, too lost in thought to realize that this person must have known you already if he was calling you.

"'cos i wanna know who i'm lookin' at..."

this one sentence felt like a punch in the face, finally making you snap back to reality. you stop what you're doing and look around the kitchen nervously, slowly getting up from your seat. after a moment of complete silence, you choke out, "what did you say?"

"i wanna know who i'm talkin' to..." it was like hearing him with one ear, but not really listening. you nervously walk to the kitchen window, closing the blind and heading out into the hall, "that's not what you said..."

he asks, "what do you think i said?" you check the door, gladly seeing it's still locked, which makes you feel a bit relieved.

finally realizing that talking to a stranger while being alone in your apartment wasn't really the best idea, you mutter, "look i gotta go..."

"go?" he let's out a low chuckle, "i thought we were gonna go out."

"nah... i don't think so," checking the door again, you move back to the kitchen.

"don't hang up on me--" but it's too late, you already end the call.

an uneasy feeling washed over your body as you sat back at the table, cursing under your breath, sure that someone was just trying to scare you for fun. you take the phone in your hand again and find the video that jake recorded. after watching it, feeling the same anger you felt at last night's party, you delete the video along with the few pictures, feeling at least slightly better now, but then you find another new one, recorded less than four hours after the incident.

when you click on it you see jake kneeling on his knees, his shirt covered in blood, his lip is split, someone was holding him by his hair, making sure you could clearly see his face.

but it's only when jake speaks up that your body shivers from nervousness, "i'm sorry for..." jake swallows, "being a dick to you while we were together, cheating on you, lying to you and making up rumors about you..."

his head is tilted back even more, someone's grip on his hair definitely painful, you could tell by jake's expression. "i am sorry y/n..."

it was like he was begging for forgiveness. fear in his eyes, pure desperation written all over his face, as if someone had promised him that if he apologized, he would survive. but the person behind the camera just laughs and the video ends, leaving you confused with your heart racing.

a normal person would be sad right now, tears would probably be shed, heart clenching with despair. you know you should feel sorry for jake. but none of this happened. you didn't feel any of those things, just like his life and his lame apology meant nothing to you.

you were aware you're a little crazy, but damn.

you can't even process it properly when your phone rings again. seeing the same unknown caller, you answer angrily, "listen, you asshole, i'm not in a mood for these kind of games—"

"no, you listen. hang up on me again and jokes fuckin' over." you hear his annoyed voice, causing you to shut up. chris on the other side of the phone, takes a deep breath trying not to lose his mind. you would always rile him up with anything. here he was, trying to be nice for once, but you were making it impossible for him.

"the video is f'you," he speaks up again after a moment. "you can post it to embarrass your ex or get revenge, or simply delete it. do whatever you want with it. it's yours."

the video... his words makes you realize that he had to be the one to give you jake's phone. so he was the one to record that video. which means... is he the one who killed him? otherwise how would he know about this?

you decide to take the risk and say weakly, "don't you think killing him was revenge enough?"

you weren't sure. it could've been just your guess, but the silence that followed for a moment convinced you that you were right. "don't you think for what he did to you, it'd never be enough?" he finally responds.

"killing someone is not enough to you?"

chris was aware that you were a hard one, but damn. he had his reasons to do what he did. he always had a reason.

unexpectedly for you, the call ends, leaving you surprised, but it quickly turns into fear when you hear footsteps in the hallway. you weren't paranoid, you checked the door twice and it was locked. you were home alone. however, the floor creaked, meaning the person was closer. on impulse, you jump up from your seat, in the blink of an eye you find yourself behind the kitchen island and grab the first knife you find to defend yourself.

then he enters the kitchen. paralyzed with fear, you look at him, dressed all in black in some kind of robe, a ghostface mask on his face and black gloves in which he held a knife. you were literally petrified.

chris on the other hand was really annoyed by you. no one in this world could get under his skin faster than you, by literally existing. he looks at you, smirking under his mask, seeing you being quiet for the first time in his life. he slowly starts to move, dragging the knife lightly on the kitchen island and grabs jake's phone from the table that you left there in fear.

seeing the ghostface killer you've only heard about in recent months feels unreal. your feet glued to the floor, the anxiety not letting you move as he slowly gets closer. you clutch the knife in your hand as if your life depended on it - because maybe it does, he finally notices it and let's out a low chuckle, now standing in front of you. he tilts his head to the side, watching you closely, the fear in your wide eyes, it makes chris feel things he can't really name. meanwhile you hear only one thing in your mind - are you gonna die just like jake did?

when he slowly takes the knife out of your hand, that's when your brain starts working again, and your sense of survival kicks in. you take a few steps back before sprinting down the hall to the front door, trying to get outside, but it was obviously locked and the keys were nowhere to be found. hearing his footsteps, you panic and run into your bedroom, trying to close the door behind you, but he's faster and puts his foot between them, not letting you do so. you try your best, but he's stronger which makes you eventually give up, taking a few steps back and desperately looking for something to defend yourself with.

chris walks into your room, barely dodging as you blindly start throwing everything you found at him. he curses under his breath, avoiding the flying in his direction things, and in a few steps he's right in front of you, grabbing your wrist and twisting your arm behind you, turning you around so now your back was pressed against his chest.

you squeal and try to escape him, which makes him grab your wrist tighter, but he still has the knife and jake's phone in his other hand, so he doesn't have as much control over your body as he should. so when you kick him in the shin, it makes him hiss at the pain and for a moment his grip loosens, letting you escape and run towards the door. though he's faster and grabs your leg, causing you fall to the floor. chris quickly straddles you, pinning both of your wrists above your head with his one hand.

"stay fuckin' still," he says through gritted teeth annoyed, but at the same time impressed that you're fighting back. not like he expected less from you, you were one of the most complicated, independent and crazy people he knew. almost as crazy as him.

fear and adrenaline blocked your logical thinking, so you didn't notice that the killer's voice sounded strangely familiar. chris felt weird shiver going down his spine, seeing and feeling your body under him like this.

but he underestimated you again and due to his moment of weakness, you take the opportunity and raise your knee, hitting his crotch. it wasn't a hard hit since he was still pinning you down, but it was enough for him to let go of your wrists and curse under his breath, which once again you took advantage of. he doesn't even know when you take your legs out from under him and wrap them around his hips, flopping you both over so now he's lying underneath you and you're straddling him. in that moment of confusion he accidentally scratches your arm with a knife, immediately causing blood to flow down your skin from the wound. chris feels his breath hitching in his throat after seeing this. he didn't plan to do that, to hurt you.

though you, still filled with adrenaline, don't let it distract you, and one second your hand is grabbing his ghostface mask, and the next you're seeing his face, clutching the material in your hand. he looks at you with wide eyes, feeling his heart drop.

both of you are too shocked at first to even say anything, so you continue staring at each other in silence, tension growing in the air. neither of you dare to move even an inch. then you finally choke out,

"chris?!"

a/n: okay y'all bear with me, next chapter is gonna be really cool 😋 lmk if y'all like it please

taglist: @certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess @sturnioloslutttt4 @ashlishes @mattsbitchh @hi-people-who-are-alive @stellward123 @inssanely @matts-girlfriend @imnotalive420 @emely9274 @shadowthesim @yunkilm

[leighsartworks216]

Blood Washes Out

Sylus x gn!Reader

Had this idea and had to spend like a week writing it

Warnings: hurt/comfort, blood, injury, murder, swearing, vomiting, panic, pet names, sharing clothes, cuddling, crying, guilt, broken bones, guns

Word Count: 2,801

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The phone rings by your ear, waiting to be answered. The copper stench of blood latches itself to your senses. You can taste it on your tongue, against your teeth, at the back of your throat.

The call is picked up and a whimper of relief rips from your mouth against your will. “Sylus!”

“What’s wrong?” he demands. His voice is stern. You’re glad for its strength right now. “Are you alright?”

What a shit question for him to ask.

“I need you to pick me up.” You turn your head to the side to spit out the blood pooling in your mouth. You wish it would just fucking stop.

“Send me your location, but don’t hang up.”

You feel blood stick to your ear as you pull the phone away. The touch screen is covered in red fingerprints. You’re shocked it still reads your input as you go to your messages and send him your location. You feel a burn at the back of your throat as you put the phone back to your ear, disgust wrapping its hands around your esophagus and churning your stomach.

He says your name. It’s so rare to hear him say it nowadays. That’s how you know he’s really worried. “I’ll be there in five minutes. I’m sending Mephisto ahead of me. Stay on the phone.”

You nod even though he can’t see, squeezing your eyes shut and curling into yourself as you wait on the curbside. If there’s anybody else around, anybody else who witnessed what happened…

Panic floods your veins like ice.

What if someone did see what happened? Or- Or maybe someone who didn’t and just stumbles around the corner to find-

You clamp a hand over your mouth. Bloody fingers aggravate your nose. More blood pours over them, warm and wet, sliding over a layer that’s already congealed. The metallic twang stings your eyes.

You can’t tell whose blood is whose anymore.

“I’m coming, sweetie. Just a few more minutes.”

You gasp out, “I’m gonna be sick.”

You don’t get a chance to hear his response before you drop your phone to the sidewalk. Your body moves on its own in a mad dash to turn and hurl into the gutter. It burns. It burns so fucking bad. And the taste-

Your body convulses and shakes, acting against you until your stomach is empty and you’re coughing around dry heaves.

A motor pulls up nearby. Heavy boots scuff the pavement as they rush to you. A gloved hand pulls your hair back, collecting it at the base of your head. An arm wraps around your chest, keeping you upright. A caw sounds from above you.

“I’ve got you. Don’t fight it. I’ve got you.”

Sylus surveys the scene around you. A body lays several feet away on its back. A dark red trail worms its way through cracks in the sidewalk and follows the uneven ground to a drain intended for catching floodwater. A gun hangs limply in its hand. Yours is discarded nearby.

He ducks his head to look at your face. Your eyes are clamped shut, lips trembling as you try to catch your breath. Tears glide down the curve of your cheeks.

Your nose is broken. Blood oozes from it slowly, dripping into your mouth and down your chin. It mixes with your bile and saliva as you weakly spit it out. More blood covers your clothes and your hands. It’s hard to distinguish what’s all yours, or if your broken nose is your only injury.

He grabs a handkerchief from his pocket. It cost more than your apartment and he couldn’t give a damn as he uses it to gently wipe at your mouth. “Just breathe, sweetheart. Can you stand?”

You take in a deep, uneven breath, and nod. He lets go of your hair and grabs your phone, sliding it into his pocket without worrying about the blood. He tucks the handkerchief right next to it. His arms are strong and grounding as he helps you to your feet, putting himself between you and the body as he leads you to his bike. If he’d known what state you were in, he would’ve brought the car. As it was, he was more concerned with getting to you as fast as possible.

He doesn’t force you to put the helmet on this time. As much as he’d normally insist, he didn’t want to trap you in a helmet if you were still nauseous. He slips it over his own head as he gets on first and gives you his arm for support as you climb on behind him. Your arms wrap around him tightly, bloody fingers clinging to his shirt under his leather jacket. Your body rests heavily against his back.

“My gun…” you say quietly, halfheartedly, like your concern for it is only a distant afterthought.

Sylus squeezes your hands reassuringly. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll get it back for you later.”

You nod against him. The engine purrs beneath you as he turns his bike around and peels off back home.

-

The ride is a blur of passing lights and buildings, a collage of Linkon City and the N109 Zone meshing together until you relent to just keep your eyes shut. You don’t open them again until he slows to a stop in front of his mansion.

The twins are rushing out the door to greet you. “Boss! Woah, what happened to you?” Luke winces as he catches sight of you. Kieran smacks him upside the head and rushes to help you off the bike.

Sylus gets off after, pulling his helmet off and resting it on the seat. He pulls out the phone and handkerchief, and passes it over to Luke. “Get this cleaned up.”

“Sure thing, Boss!”

He takes you gently away from Kieran, wrapping an arm behind your knees and back and lifting you into his arms. “Follow Mephisto. Deal with it.”

Kieran nods. “On it, Boss.” Mephisto’s metal wings slice through the air as Sylus leads you past the twins and inside.

“‘M sorry,” you mumble. You turn your head from his shoulder, trying not to get blood on his shirt. Your hands sit limply in your lap.

“Don’t apologize, sweetie,” he assures. “Can you tell me what happened?”

The mansion is warm and familiar, dark and comforting in a way the night outside isn’t. He carries you all the way to his room and the ensuite bathroom where he sits you on the countertop. He removes his gloves, grabs a white washcloth, wets it under the faucet, and gently works on cleaning the blood from your face. The pristine white cloth stains pink, and eventually red.

You stare at his shirt. Despite it being black, you can see the remnants of blood you left on him.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.” He holds your chin delicately in one hand, tilting your head up to look at him. “Talk to me.”

Fresh tears burn at your eyes. You want to forget tonight ever happened. Want to find someone with a time-traveling Evol just so you can go back and do everything different.

It’s a fruitless wish. Everything already happened. It was already burned into your mind. There would be no do-overs.

Your voice cracks as you speak. He frowns at the sorrowful sound. “I was going to the convenience store to get some snacks. I-I wanted some chocolate, and I didn’t have any, so… B-But I guess one of my neighbors followed me. A lot of them are Hunters, too. Said they heard me talking to you.”

“They recognized my name from the Association.” It wasn’t a question. You nod. He folds the cloth over and brushes away some splatter from your face, gently wiping away some stray tears in the process. “Did they threaten you?”

You don’t need to answer. He already knows. That gun in their hand wasn’t just for show.

“They…” You swallow uncomfortably. Your mouth feels tacky. “They said they were gonna turn me in, but wh-when they approached, I freaked out. I just started fighting back, I-I didn’t know what else to do. They punched me and I fell to the ground. Th-Their gun was aimed at me, I couldn’t think, a-and I…”

The weight of the weapon in your hands never felt heavier than in that moment. Tears fell freely now. Your lungs shudder, gasping for air you can’t seem to get enough of. Your face crumples into a horrible grimace as you sob. Sylus cradles the back of your head and pulls you into his chest. He drops the cloth in the sink to wrap his arm around you. You grab onto his shirt. The blood on your hands is dried and crackly, seeping deep into your pores and staining your flesh.

“I tried saving them,” you whimper. “I tried, but there was just so, so much blood, I- I couldn’t do anything.”

He hushes you softly. “You were threatened and you protected yourself.”

“What if the Association finds out? What’re they gonna do when they find out someone’s missing? Fuck, Sy, what- What’s gonna happen?”

“Nothing’s going to happen. They’ll put up missing posters around the block, wondering where they went off to. It’ll remain an unsolved mystery, a story to tell the grandkids.”

It’s not reassuring. He sighs.

“What do you want to happen, sweetheart? You tell your boss what happened: you don’t get tried for murder, but you have to come clean about sneaking into the N109 Zone and being besties with the big bad leader of Onychinus. Or you don’t say anything, and nothing happens.” He pulls away slightly to look down at your face. You stare at the glass door of the shower, eyes glazed over and distant. “Which option sounds better to you, hm?”

You wrack your brain for a third option. Something that doesn’t take away the job you love and permanently ruin your life, while giving the Hunter you killed some grace in death. But there is none. Not really.

So you sigh. Long and drawn out. Will this guilt ever get any easier to carry?

You pull away from Sylus and he lets you. You cringe at his shirt. “I got blood on you.”

He chuckles. “Blood washes out, kitten.”

“Not very easily.”

“No,” he agrees. “But I have my ways.”

This is no longer a simple conversation about laundry.

Sylus picks the cloth back up and wets it again. The excess water that isn’t squeezed out drips into your lap. He wipes the fresh blood coming from your nose. “We need to set this. Do you want something to bite down on?”

-

Your nose still stings as you stand under the shower spray. The heady scent of his shampoo saturates the air, swirling in tandem with the steam. There’s no more blood in your hair, on your ear from the phone, or on your face. And there isn’t any on your hands, either. But as you look down at them, water collecting in your palms and slipping between your fingers, you could feel the hot blood that had been there.

A knock on the door startles you from your revelry. It opens before you can say anything, and you can see the blurry silhouette of Sylus as he sets something on the counter.

“Here’s some fresh clothes. I’ll be out here when you’re done.” His face doesn’t ever glance at the shower door, even when you call out his name to stop him while he’s leaving. He just stands there, head ducked slightly and ear turned your way, listening.

“Thank you.”

He chuckles softly. “It’s just clothes, sweetheart.”

You sigh bitterly. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

The door closes with a faint click as he leaves.

You put some soap in your hands and scrub until the skin is raw. Until you can’t trick yourself into thinking there’s still blood on them. Until the water begins to run cold. Only then do you feel clean enough to turn off the water and step out of the shower.

The clothes are large, practically drowning you in excess fabric. The familiar athletic shorts only stay on because of the elastic waistband and a hidden drawstring that ties on the inside of the shorts. The sweater’s sleeves go past your hands. You can’t imagine wearing anything else right now.

Just as he promised, he’s sitting on his bed when you open the door. The deconstructed parts of your gun lay spread out on the blanket, neatly sorted out. He diligently cleans every piece, ensuring he gets every speck of blood while giving it basic maintenance.

“Sorry about the clothes, sweetie. I’ll have some tailored for you.”

You pad across the floor and carefully climb up onto the bed, doing your best not to disturb the array. He doesn’t stop you when you snuggle up to his side. Rather, he allows you to wrap your arms around his, adjusting how he works for your sake. You shake your head and rest it on his shoulder.

“This is fine,” you assure him. The silence goes on for a beat or two too long before you add, “I might just steal this sweater from you.”

He chuckles. “Go ahead, sweetie. I can get more.” He sets down a cleaned part and picks up another one he hasn’t tended to yet. “Tell me what materials you like and I’ll have a whole closet of them you can steal, if you’d like.”

You smile slightly. He only notices when he glances down at you. He sets the piece down and begins to quickly assemble it all back together. You inhibit his movements somewhat, so it takes a few seconds longer than he’s used to, but he doesn’t complain. Your gun looks brand new, just as pretty and perfect as it was when you first got it at the Academy.

He flips it to offer the handle to you, a silent question. It’s all too reminiscent of your first meeting with him. Even then, even after you’d pulled the trigger, frightened for your life, you’d tried to save him. If it hadn’t been for his Evol…

Well. Lightning never strikes the same place twice.

You hide your face in his shirt, the casual grey one he usually lounges around in. The clinking of the gun disappears with the sound of a drawer opening and closing. His hand brushes your hair.

“You should get some sleep, sweetie. It’s late for you.”

“I’m not tired.” Your body says otherwise. You’re practically melting into him, into the bed. If you stay there for just a few minutes longer, you’ll be fast asleep.

“Now why don’t I believe that,” he teases.

You sigh and force yourself off of him, beginning to slip off the bed. “Let’s watch something.”

He sighs, too, but at your unrelenting stubbornness. It’s almost reassuring. At least you weren’t in a heap under the blankets, sobbing. He follows you into the living room, to the couch directly across from a large TV. You grab a blanket and wrap it around yourself until you are securely cocooned and tucked against an armrest. He sits next to you, drawing you into his side. His Evol carries the remote to his hand.

You command him along through menus and catalogues until you reach one of your favorite comfort films. The lights automatically dim as it starts playing.

You’re not even three minutes into the movie before your eyes are drooping closed. He knew it would happen, knew the exhaustion would catch up with you eventually. Still, it was quite cute, watching you fight to keep your eyes open and your head off his chest. Slowly, slowly giving in. Resting your head on his chest. Listening to his unusual heartbeat. Losing the battle against consciousness.

Still, he lets it play through to the end. It’s not a bad movie, he decides. You enjoy it, so it must have some merit. And you can always tell a lot about someone based on their favorite things.

Careful not to wake you up, Sylus lifts you into his arms, cradling you close to his chest. He carries you back to bed, not bothering to unwrap you from your cocoon at all. Despite being wide awake, he lays down beside you, continuing to hold you close to him. If you have a nightmare, he wants to be there. If you wake up in a dazed panic, he wants to be there.

As accustomed as he’s become with taking lives, he’s unfamiliar with the crisis you’re facing and how to comfort someone through a crisis of any kind. He wants to help. As best as he can, he wants you to be okay. He needs you to be okay.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow

[only-lonely-star]

can you please do a Dallas Winston x greaser reader where reader getting sick like vomiting or something in the middle of the night and Dallas comforts her. Thanks !!

Caretaker

Dallas Winston x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: Vomiting

Summary: Dallas is your caretaker for the night 🫂

Author’s Note: We’re not gonna talk about the quality of the first picture… okay…? Yes…? Yippee!!!

Word Count: 1.2k

── ──── ──── ୨ৎ ──── ──── ──

It was another night at the Merrill roadhouse, in which Dallas cradled you against his bare chest underneath a heap of blankets and mismatched sheets. He was already fast asleep, his head tucked gently into your hair. The crowd downstairs had quieted down. The occasional sound of glasses clinking together, a cue shooting a ball across the billiard table, and indistinct chatter were the only sounds audible. It was a quiet, slow night. At least, that’s what you thought tonight was going to be like.

The rumbling of your stomach intensified as Dallas breathed slow and steady against you. Shit. The last thing you wanted was for him to be woken up from the sounds of your stomach. Embarrassing would be an understatement. Though you had a few suspicions as to why your body acted in such ways, you couldn’t quite place a finger on it. You ate well before coming to see Dallas, but you didn’t overstuff yourself. It couldn’t be hunger, and it couldn’t be overeating. A third party factor was causing the discomfort. You kept your eyes shut, trying your hardest to ignore it.

The sensation felt like cramps, but worse. Your stomach churned and churned until it all came to a sudden stop. Your eyes popped open as the familiar feeling of saliva running down your cheeks began. You squirmed from Dallas’s grasp, moving his arm that held you down like the bar of a rollercoaster. He roused awake, groaning at your absence. “Come back to bed,” he commanded, his voice raspy from sleeping. Dallas rubbed at his eyes.

You ignored his demands, racing for the bathroom door that was connected to his room. You just barely made it to the toilet before you could no longer keep your mouth closed.

Dallas darted for the bathroom once he heard you heaving and gagging from inside. He crouched down beside you, taking your hair and holding it back. His face displayed a mix of worry and disgust. “Hell, I thought you were sneaking out on me.”

Your hands rimmed the toilet bowl, grasping onto it for dear life. For only a split second, you could speak. “No. I think I just-,” you coughed, bracing yourself for more vomit, “Oh gosh. I think-.”

Dallas tried his hardest to nod along, deciphering each slurred word that fell from your lips. The area between his eyebrows had creased with concern. He turned his head in the opposing direction as you hurled again. “Alright. Let it out. Yeah,” he said in an attempt to soothe you. One hand remained holding each strand of your hair behind while the other ran up and down your arm.

After a moment of straight gagging and spewing, you relaxed once again. You relished in his gentle touch. “I’m really sorry. You don’t have to-,” hiccup, “Don’t have to stay in here with me.”

“No, no, no, I’ll stay,” he insisted, gently dropping your hair. He was quick to flush the mess away, rummaging through his bathroom drawers for a spare towel.

You looked around with wide, nervous eyes, unable to remove your hands from the white ceramic of the toilet. You weren’t too fond having your boyfriend watch you expell last night’s dinner so casually. But, hell, he really did love you if he was so willing to help.

Dallas dampened the hand towel, bunching it up across his index finger. At first, his hand reached out to dab at the corners of your lips. He changed his mind last minute, handing it to you instead. “You okay? What’s got you puking your guts out in here?” he teased.

“I really don’t know. I felt it coming on and just… ran. I hope it isn’t anything serious.” You wiped the warm towel against your mouth before slowly standing back up.

Dallas assisted in dusting off your bum. He sat at the edge of the bathtub and watched you pick up your toothbrush. You kept a few necessities at his place in case of nights like this when sleeping over. He mused over your time spent together, trying to recall if anything out of the ordinary caused your upset stomach. His face suddenly paled. “You ain’t late or nothing… right? What are the odds that uh… you’re late?”

White toothpaste coated your lips. Your wrist was brought to rest, leaving your toothbrush hanging from your lower lip. You shot him a nasty look. “It ain’t that, Dal. I probably had something undercooked or expired,” you said, though your words came out as more of mumble to Dallas.

He visibly relaxed at your reassurance. That was one potential cause checked off the list. “Are you sure it’s all out?”

You nodded, spitting the minty goo into the sink, “I sure hope so.” You paced around the bathroom floor, scrubbing away at your tongue.

“Can I get you something to eat? Drink?” he asked, his eyes turning rather soft. Moments like these were rare to come across, so you cherished them while they lasted. “I heard a cold soda ‘n crackers helps.”

“I could use a snack, yeah,” you nodded, a smile returning to your cheeks.

He stood, brushing his palms over his jeans. “I’ll head downstairs and see if Buck has any left. If he’s out, I’ll get you some water,” he explained, his hand wrapping around your waist for only a second before he forced himself to walk out of the cramped bathroom.

You followed him, sitting on the edge of his bed. Dallas tossed a shirt on and ran a hand over his hair to tame it. “Just… take it easy. ‘M sorry you don’t feel good,” he mumbled, trying to hide the soft edge to his voice. The one he felt wasn’t ‘manly’ enough to show to you. Oh, how he hated the way you brought out that tender side to him.

A good ten minutes later, Dallas returned with a beer mug in hand, balancing a handful of saltine crackers on his elbow. He smiled upon your reaction to the beverage. “It’s ginger ale, I promise.”

“It better be,” you teased back. You graciously took the drink from his hand, allowing him to close the door behind himself. You grabbed the crackers as well, stacking them in your palm.

Dallas kicked his boots off lazily before taking his shirt back off. He made a beeline for the bed, plopping himself down with a groan. “Turn the light off when you’re done. I’m trying to get some sleep,” he pointed at the bathroom.

With a mouthful of cracker, you nodded. Despite his off-putting way of comforting you, he had done a decent job. Sure, being all soft wasn’t his thing - but that never stopped him from caring about you. He always showed up when you needed him most. Maybe that was what you loved the most about him. He was so willing. You washed down the cracker with a sip of ginger ale, feeling that gurgling sensation in your stomach simmer down. “Dally?” you whispered.

His eyes remained shut, though it was evident he was fighting sleep once again. “Hm?”

“Thank you.”

A beat of silence passed between you two. With eyes closed, he reached out to pinch your side. “‘Course, baby.”

It was safe to say you wouldn’t have lasted the night without his tender care. Thank goodness for Dallas.

YOU’RE SO LOVED!! THANK YOU FOR READING BBY 🤍🤍

- Sophia 🫶🏼

[satoruhour]

On honeymoon with geto..and while you’ve had sex before, it’s the first time you two do it unprotected. His face lights up when you tell him to do it without a condom and breeding kink goes BRRRRRRRR

a/n: “Newlyweds gojo and reader having sweet romantic nasty dirty disgusting shameless honeymoon sex PLEEK” combining requests since theyre the same premise! anons u two r the biggest brained mfers and bc u all voted so nicely and promptly this is my lil present :3

wc: about 1k+ for each drabble

warnings: SEPARATE drabbles, fem!reader, soft dom!geto that turns filthy at the mention of no condoms lol, unprotected sex, fingering, clit stimulation, creampie / breeding kink, sorta soft dom!gojo but not really established, almost public sex and multiple rounds for gojo, n*sfw under the cut

✶ GETO

the first breath of fresh air is already so pleasant and different from japan, but you’re distracted again by the shiny band upon your finger, staring at it with a small smile. you had your eyes glued on the sterling silver for the whole flight here, only breaking out of your daze when suguru approaches with your collected luggages, pressing a kiss to your temple. “shall we go?” you can’t help but mumble a soft ‘i love you’ before you peck his lips, the coldness of his matching ring on your skin reminding you of your newly forged bond.

geto makes sure you feel its coldness later on your thigh, hand holding down your legs firmly when he first inserts both fingers, cunt easily sucking him in right until you feel the chill of the wedding ring. he’s rewarded with your sweet moans, s’thick and s’good leaving your lips softly while he leaves your clit untouched. it’s throbbing, and yet he tortures you more when he removes his fingers.

“suguru!”

“what?” he grins, a sick grin as he starts to remove his pants and admires the way your pussy just asks for his dick. “want ya to cum on my cock.”

“yeah, but—” you huff, although you weren’t opposed, before you hear the familiar crinkle of the condom packet and you’re sitting up to hold his hands back. now, his what was truly confused, and you bit your lip, wondering if this was really the route you wanted to go down.

you’ve always loved sex with suguru; it was phenomenal always, except the feeling of the rubber in you. it was necessary, you knew, but now that you’re bound by vows and your endless love, you’d think that . .

“can we not use it today, sugu?”

geto didn’t think he heard you correctly, and he’s asked you to repeat it even when you’ve seized the packet and threw it to the side, a hand on his hardened cock that only responds to you — you swear you feel more pre-cum on your thumb when you say it for the third time.

“are you sure, baby?” geto asks softly, hovering over you with his large stature and it’s just like the first time you were intimate with each other. caring and gentle as he always is, “we don’t have to do away with it just cause we’re married now, (y/n).”

you give him a small reassuring smile. “i’m sure, suguru.”

and he proceeds to ask you for two more times before your legs are carried up. surprised, you watch as he drags his tip along your folds, eyes darkening when he watches his pre-cum mix with your juices. and now when he’s given permission to fuck you raw? he can hardly keep his heart rate down.

“hear that, baby?” geto moans, keeping his eyes locked in yours, making you hear just how wet you were and you nod, wanting to have his hand in yours. there’s a mixture of your moans when he first pushes in, with your pussy clenching around him. a loud whine leaves your throat as your hands interlock.

“s-su! feels so—!” you gasp when he bottoms out, a feeling entirely different from the usual — you swear you can feel his cockhead and the veins along his length, and geto knows the same. your gummy walls that hug him, your warmth.

“shiitt . . god, you feel so fuckin’ good—” he grunts out, leaning forward to capture your lips, sighing when he does a light thrust and the drag of your cunt is just too good and he already feels his high approaching. “just so perfect in this pussy— t-thank you, darling.”

geto swears he goes in and out of consciousness when his hips start to move, focused solely on your hand on his cheek and the squeeze of your hand in his, alongside those hooded, drunken eyes of yours and the whimpers leaving your mouth.

“suguru— s’big!” you pant against his lips and the squelch of your pussy is only amplified by how swiftly he rails into you, driven by the raw feeling of your cunt.

“y’can take it, can’t ya?” geto hums, pressing one last kiss against your lips and comes off of you, grabbing your legs and pushing. they’re right up to your chest and suguru reaches so deep, you squeal in surprise. “good girl, takin’ me so damn well.”

you let him use your body, now hanging onto the headboard of the hotel room as his hips move relentlessly into your dripping cunt. you can see your juices splay everywhere from how wet you were and the rough movement of his hips don’t help, “g’na cum, su—”

“that so?” he mumbles, and angles his hips to hit that spot and your head digs into the pillow. although, geto doesn’t like that, “c’mon baby, watch me as i breed you.”

you whine at his choice of words, opening your eyes to see your newly wedded husband look divine. his hair falls all over his face and his lips are parted in little pants, sweat lining his torso and face but his honeyed eyes only look at you.

the way geto’s hips drive into you is carnal, feeling your ass ripple with his thrust to the hilt and the sounds that leave his lips sound like heaven, a mix between whines and moans — “look at how much cum i have f’r you—”

and for the both of you it comes so quickly you don’t have time to prepare for the visions of white; you can feel as geto cums deep in you, feeling each spurt of cum fill you up and you think you’d never want to go back to condoms ever again. geto’s head is thrown back when he shoots his load, hips bucking so much as you cum at the same time, spasming on his cock that the room is full of your lewd sounds.

geto doesn’t look at you when he removes his cock silently, watching as his tip continues to push out globs of semen while your cunt is painted white. it’s clear he’s drunk on it, looking toward you finally with a small smile. the final clench your pussy does is the last straw for him, pushing out his cum that drips down to the sheets and he’s hard again.

“you don’t know what you just unlocked in me, baby,” geto laughs breathlessly, slapping his length along your folds with obscene noises, “but it’ll definitely end in me filling you up with s’much cum, yeah?”

you giggle, wiggling your hips until he’s in you again. hot breath against your ankle and a scrunch in his expression — your pussy’s just too good.

“yeah, i’d love that, sugu. give me all your cum.”

✶ GOJO

your happiness was unmatched running down the aisle, interrupted by the smooth sweep of gojo’s arms under your neck and knees in a princess carry, moving your body up and down like you just scored the final goal of a game — except you did. you’ve captured satoru’s heart and his fourth finger, smiling with glossy eyes as he leans in to kiss you. “you cryin’, baby?” the audacity to ask that when his nose is red too — you only shake your head, hearing the camera click and your relatives cheer.

that sweet sentiment is changed later after your wedding dinner when he hasn’t even got you past the front door until he has you against the wardrobe, dinner gown and panties swiped to the side and you desperately trying not to overturn the hotel kettle.

“can’t keep me from this pussy for long, baby.” gojo’s stamina is exceptional, you were made aware of this from the first time you got into bed with him, and you still weren’t exactly used to it. from here, you only wish to memorise the sight of gojo on his knees and the chill of his wedding ring on your thigh. “looked so delicious in this dress—”

“s-satoru, we haven’t even closed the door yet—!” he hums, skillfully using his free hand to do it and he continues his assault on your pussy. you have one leg propped up on the vanity table, leaking so much juices just from having his hand on your thigh.

it’s no different later that gojo presses kisses on your neck, making you watch yourself in the vanity mirror. your cunt’s already so used to his heavy, thick cock, and yet it still reaches so deep in you, kissing your cervix. there’s a ring of white around the base of his cock from how much he’s cummed in you, pussy gushing so much around his length that he has no problem moving in and out of you.

“look at how beautiful you are, sweets,” he whispers along your skin while you tighten around him, body lined up with yours while his hips continue to ram into you. you can’t even fathom what round exactly this is as his hands knead at your lower back, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes from just how good his cock was hitting your spots. a hand to your clit is enough to get you cumming for the nth time that night, tongue lolling out in the mirror. “you cryin’?”

you whine and nod softly, head dropping from the sudden soreness and exhaustion on a particular thrust, and your husband coos, “went too hard on you, did i?”

gojo places one more peck to your neck and slips out of you, making you choke on a moan as your entrance clenches around air and you’re off the ground like you were at the front of the church. he simply laughs at your fucked out form, knowing nevertheless you loved it when you’re asking him to hurry up. and so he brings you atop him, letting you move your hips until he’s in you and you’re whining into his neck.

“’toru . .”

“what is it, mrs. gojo?”

you stifle a laugh at that, lifting your body tiredly. even after being fucked for four rounds (he counted), you still look as lovely as you did as you first appeared at the start of the aisle, when you were crying your eyes out saying your vows, when you grinned during your first dance.

“jus’ tired baby, help me, pleasee?” the little pout you do is too cute not to resist that it gets his heart tightening up and his dick jumping. 

“hang on, sweet girl, i got ya.” the first thrust up into you is euphoric, skin so sticky from the cum before that you’re sure there’s strings of white connecting your pelvis to his. the feeling of your clit brushing up against his pubes has you moaning into thin air and your hips move back on him to get more friction, “that alright?”

“mhm . .” you mumble, “s’good—”

gojo only lets out a little chuckle, letting you tangle your hands in his hair as he plants his feet down into the mattress and slams into your dripping cunt. he groans softly at the feel of your walls, still so warm and tight, muttering soft praises while your limp body moves along with his rough ministrations.

“oh— my g-god . .” you mewl out when he latches his lips onto your tits, sucking and swirling his tongue and your back arches in his arms; you simply can’t hold yourself up from the overstimulation, falling forward into his waiting arms. “s-sorry, ’toru.”

“what’re you apologisin’ for?” gojo swear when he feels you clamp down, cock twitching and you both know he’s about to cum, “my pretty girl doesn’t need to be saying sorry . . fuck—”

satoru’s his lips meet yours messily and his thrusts turn weak and sloppy while he ruts mindlessly into you with the lewd pap! pap! pap! sounds of his balls against your ass. he’s primal with his hips, with muffled moans onto your lips. there’s drool dripping from the corners of your mouths as he spills into you shamelessly, so much cum spilling from your connected bodies that you reach your climax too, body trembling from the intense feeling.

“’toru—! s-so much cum, haah . .” it’s so hot, entirely sure your womb is full of his previous loads, your mixed juices coating his still hard dick and you might just tap out, but when you feel his cum dribble out of you and down his cock, you’re already wishing for more. you merely reach for the cup of water and gulp down a large amount and your lover only watches you, amused.

“n-need more, satoru . .” you whisper, sitting up and trailing a hand down his body, making sure he can see the shimmer of the expensive ring he bought for you — it wouldn’t rust, either, he told you. eyes fluttering close, you remove yourself from him completely and lie back on the king-sized he insisted on booking, and spread your folds to show him just how needy your cunt still was.

there’s a small moan that escapes gojo’s mouth when you do that, already hovering over you with his heavy cock resting along your pussy, “give me more, baby.”

“oh, when my good girl asks so nicely,” satoru slyly grins, swallowing your whines with a sloppy kiss, “’course i have to give it to her.”

tagging my loves @hyomagiri @jabamin @shotorus @utahimeow @satohruu @na-t0 @lvlybee @slttygeto @crysugu @suguruplsr ❀

[gojoacedia]

Vi has severe attachment issues, meaning it took you a long time to break the walls surrounding her heart down to get to the point you are at with her now. And boy was it obvious how attached she was.

-She would get nervous if you left for even a few seconds. She would always go grocery shopping with you, workout with you (even though your workouts were half of what she did), sit on the counter while you did your makeup, and even sit on the floor of the bathroom if you were taking too long in the shower.

-If you managed to escape her arms in the middle of the night she would panic in her sleep and grab you back as fast as possible. You couldn’t be an inch away from her.

-She looks at you like you’re insane if you do anything nice for her. She could be standing behind you and kissing your neck the whole time you were cooking and still not realize you were making food for her. When you do serve her a plate she tells you to eat it. “You need to eat too! I can’t eat this if you don’t have anything!” She would complain. “Vi, honey, I have my own plate. I made enough for two.” You would reply, rolling your eyes at how she never considered you making two portions.

-Every day when you come home from work or school she greets you at the door like a dog who hasn’t seen their human for weeks. She would bury her face in your neck, smelling your hair like it was a drug. You would drop all of your bags (some of which had gifts for her) and hug her back. “What’s up with you today? I was gone for 30 more minutes and you're acting like it’s been years,” you laughed, grabbing her face in your hands and giving her a long kiss. She would just roll her eyes and tell you to shut up, never wanting to admit how much you affect her.

-When you have sex she will always force you to make eye contact. She didn’t want you thinking about anything other than the way she made you feel. If you ever threw your head back in pleasure she would immediately stop and grab your chin, forcing you to look back down at her. “Eyes on me, princess, or you don’t get to cum,” she would say. She couldn’t help herself from getting exponentially more wet when you whimpered in protest, following her orders anyway.

-After you came (and after she came if she was in the mood) she would carry you to the shower, giving you butterflies every time she picked you up like you weighed nothing. She would make you pee before you went in the shower so you didn’t get a yeast infection, knowing your body better than your other partners ever did.

-She had absolutely no shame when it came to the nastiest aspects of your life. She could never see you as anything other than a goddess. Even if you were sick and snotting your brains out into an entire box of tissues. Even if you were on your period, disgusted at whatever left your body that week. You could have pink eye and she would gently wash away all the eye crusts with a warm washcloth. Nothing could phase her when it came to you.

-You eventually needed to have a serious talk with her about how she treated you. She would burn the whole world down for you and then get mad if you traveled to her favorite restaurant in the underground to get take-out slugs. You needed her to know you were also allowed to be attached.

-Going off of that, if you ever needed to have a conversation about boundaries you had a rule that you had to say 5 nice things about her for every complaint. You knew she didn’t take criticism well due to her past, so you made her feel like royalty before trying to have any serious conversation with her. She noticed this, of course, and it only made her love you more. Her impatience mixed with your patience was a match made in heaven.