#tbh I haven’t had any questions in a while

[stormy-my-beloved]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged from you! <33

ok I gotcha :)

Art

blahajs 🦈🦈🦈🦈

Ninjago

Warrior Cats

all my socials and character ai

[rafey-baby]

how did older!rafe and sensitive!reader meet?

c/w: fluff, their meet cute & first time, age gap (not specified), smut: p-in-v, use of dad, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.5k 

posted this for @hittmeandtellmeyouremine and her only <3 (couldn’t help but edit this anyway cause it was all over the place tbh)

more of them on my masterlist btw!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  

The Island Club is buzzing. 

Usually, she’s not too fond of spending her Friday night surrounded by preppy, intoxicated Kooks (a name she’s not too proud to carry herself) but it’s her friend’s birthday and she couldn’t exactly say no when everyone in the group chat kept gushing over how fun it was going to be.  

Nonetheless, she finds herself giggling whilst some drunken guy at the bar begins chatting about this little Dalmatian puppy he recently adopted with his boyfriend. He’s even going as far as showing them pictures of the all too adorable black and white furball on his phone screen, when her lovely bladder decides to remind her of the alcohol she’s consumed before she’s excusing herself to the restroom—weaving through sweaty bodies with mumbled apologies and wobbly legs.  

Then, completely out of the blue, icy liquid is soaking through her top and halting her movements. 

“Shit, sorry,” the guy who stumbled into her drawls out and she blinks up—meeting broad shoulders and shard features that belong to an older man easily twice her age and entirely too handsome to be considered fair.  

“Oh, it’s okay,” she squeaks out, delayed, star-struck, attempting to continue on with her journey before she embarrasses herself even further. However, she doesn’t get the chance to do anything before a warm palm on her upper arm tugs her back.  

“Nah, s’fully my fault, let me—uh, do they have any...” he looks around, searching for something before his expression brightens. “Right, yeah, the bathroom,” he slurs, seemingly proud of himself, and she figures he must’ve had one too many glasses of the whiskey currently seeping through the lacy material of her bra.  

She opens her mouth to tell him it’s fine but he’s already dragging her towards the back with a hold on her wrist before he’s setting her on top of the dirty bathroom counter where a few girls are fixing each other’s makeup. Upon his arrival, one of them rolls her eyes—the door slamming shut behind them soon after. But he doesn’t even seem to notice, already patting at her chest with some paper towels, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world.  

“Um, thanks,” she mumbles, already teetering on the edge of tipsy and absolutely wasted herself, which is why she doesn’t question his strange behavior too much; merely sits there and lets him concentrate on the soggy spot on her shirt.  

“Look, you can’t even see it, s’a good thing you wearin’ black, huh?” he grins before throwing the damp pieces of paper into the trash while she grabs some more tissues to dab underneath the fabric, the skin of her chest sticky and gross.  

“We haven’t, uh, we haven’t met before, right? M’Rafe,” his voice is smooth syrup when he suddenly holds out his palm for her to take. And for a moment, she merely stares at it with rounded eyes before realizing how dumb she must seem.  

“Hi, sorry, no, we haven’t,” she quickly answers before taking his much bigger hand into her own, holding onto it for far too long to be considered appropriate as she stumbles over her own name—something amused blooming on his face in response.  

“S’nice to meet you,” he smiles, gaze holding her hostage while she struggles to look away.  

“Thank you,” her cheeks heat up when her apparently empty brain has the chance to process her mistake. “I mean...you too?” a flustered giggle bubbles out of her throat, wishing she could evaporate into thin air right about now.  

However, he doesn’t seem to mind her making a complete fool out of herself because he merely chuckles, seemingly entertained as his eyes flit over her features in curiosity.  

“You, uh, you want another drink?” he asks. “...as an apology for ruinin’ your top ‘n shit,” he adds when she seems hesitant.  

“Oh, um…yeah, that’d be—uh, great. But m’actually here for my friend’s birthday so...I can’t,” she manages out, confused when something akin to disappointment in cerulean blue greets her. 

“Shame.”  

- - - - - - - - -  

For the following weeks, Rafe sticks to the forefront of her mind like honey until one night, she bumps into someone after leaving the restaurant her date never showed up to—far too occupied deciding that she’d never listen to her friend again to realize who it is. Because why would she make her believe that some stupid guy they met at the library of all places, would be perfect for her? 

“Y/N? What’re you doin’ here all by yourself?” Rafe’s familiar rumble makes her annoyed thoughts vanish, causing her to look up in surprise. 

“Oh, hi...this is, um, kinda embarrassing,” she mumbles while his gaze flits over her dress and the heels that were already making her feet hurt. And she has no choice but to explain what had happened, for some reason growing teary-eyed in the process because he listens so patiently, a concerned crease between his brows making her feel like he actually cares. 

“Listen, that guy was a fuckin’ idiot if he stood you up, alright?” he scoffs, sounding exasperated and making her smile despite the few droplets already soaking her cheeks. And he seems so understanding, so considerate when he wipes away her tears and gives her a warm hug before offering to take her out for dinner instead. 

“I mean, it’d be a waste of such a pretty dress, yeah?” he makes it sound like the most logical thing and she can’t help but agree, thinking he’s merely being polite because she’s just humiliated herself in front of someone she barely knows.  

And she thinks he’s just wonderful when he takes her to the most expensive restaurant on the island—cracking stupid jokes that make her giggle while she wonders why she hadn’t met this dream of a man sooner.  

However, when their bellies are warm and satiated, she begins to feel entirely too guilty about him spending so much money on her, already insisting on splitting the bill. But when she’s going through her purse for her wallet, he merely lets out a humored chuckle, muttering out how she’s apparently so cute for even thinking he’d let her do that.  

And somehow, one thing leads to another, and the night ends with her splayed out on his bed—a whimpering mess of tears and smudged makeup while his big hands roam all over her skin.  

“You let me between these thighs so fuckin’ easy, huh? I mean m’old enough to be your dad, you know that, right?” he mocks while he stuffs her full. 

“Don’t say that,” she whines, embarrassed because she can’t help but squeeze around him when the word leaves his mouth.  

“Why? Cause that shit turns you on?” he chuckles, tone teetering on the edge of patronizing and genuinely curious while his stubble tickles the skin of her neck he’s smearing sloppy kisses all over.  

“…no,” she tries to hide her face behind her hands when he looks up.  

“No? Why you squeezin’ me like that then, hm?” he raises his brows, grabbing her jaw to force her to lock eyes with him when he suddenly pushes in deeper. 

And she’s so taken aback that he somehow managed to dig out this part of her, something she keeps locked away in the basement of her mind because not everyone gets it—not everyone’s able to pick up on the telltale signs of her addled little brain craving for something more than just a conventional boyfriend. 

She’s can’t answer the man above her though, not when he’s emptied her cerebrum in the span of a few moments and she feels so overwhelmed all of a sudden, unable to form anything audible when he’s molding her insides to his liking and looking at her like that.  

“S’okay baby, don’t need to be embarrassed, dad will take such good care of you, alright?” he coos, a grin tugging at his mouth when she gushes around him in response.  

The only thing she can focus on are his heady breaths brushing over her face while he paws at her hips—rutting into her over and over and over again until she’s soaking his cock and her cheeks are decorated in mascara stains and teardrops.  

“There you go, jus’ let it all out, yeah? Let me take care of you,” he croons, talking her through it before his thrusts grow lazy and he’s glazing her gummy walls in white; filling her up to the brim with the sticky mess until it begins to dribble down from where they’re still connected.  

And after he’s cleaned her up and given her his shirt to sleep in, he holds her close to his chest, strong and comforting arms wrapped around her middle making her feel safe, protected. It makes her eyes well up with soggy droplets all over again because everything wrong suddenly feels so right. As if a piece she’s been missing all her life has finally been placed in the shallow hole that she’s always carried around without even realizing—in the shape of a father.  

Suddenly, her always so heavy thoughts don’t weigh her down all that much anymore—not when her mind is blossoming in an entirely novel way with all things Rafe.  

And as his sleepy breaths and steady heartbeat pacify her more than anything ever has, she thinks she wants to feel like this forevermore. 

[blood-smiles]

I REALLY ADORE YOUR STORIES, IT UNIQUE AND FUN TO READD RAGGGRH delicious ♪⁠～⁠(⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠), do you have any fun facts or side story about yuuto if you feel comfortable or have time to share? Love youu (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

THANK YOUUUU AUUUUUUG!! My heart is like bursting, I am so happy when people send me asks like AAAA!! I haven’t talked about my sweet mamasito in like EVER. 

YANDERE! NURSE HCS AND INFO UNDER CUT!

💊English is not his first language, he dislikes spelling, he just isn’t very good at it, so therefore he will avoid trying to write much in English!

💊He was actually the very first yandere oc I thought of making, I can’t actually remember his first design though!! This was my main idea board for him!

💊He is part of a family of 5 children, being the only boy in the family he has had to grown up only surrounded by women! All his sisters are girls!

💊His father passed away from unknown causes and his mother was left on her own with her children.

💊growing up around girls he has been exposed to more female knowledge than anyone, he knows an unnerving amount of things about menstrual cycles, it’s honestly a little bit too much.

💊Almost everyone in his family has some kind of career in nursing or medicine, 2 out of his 4 sisters are attending nursing school, the other two are in Japan taking care of his mother.

💊his mom approves of you.

💊Many of his more feminine qualities are because of his upbringing, many may criticize this but he really doesn’t have any fucks to give (TдT)

💊He has a lot of piercings, his mom did not approve nor did his sisters but he did that shit anyway, they don’t really care anymore but would rather have him take them out.

💊There are some that you can’t see unless you see him without clothes.. Ehem.

💊Has unbelievably pretty hands, if he was allowed to grow his nails longer they would be the envy of all tbh, has the perfect amount of veiny and bony to be just pretty.

💊Somehow has soft hands??? No skin care or anything, he works with bleach on the daily yet still has the most perfect skin you have EVER SEEN.

💊 The fact is really strange but he has no business being so damn tall??? Rumors say that his father was just slightly above average and the genes just blessed Yuuto in particular

💊Okay, it’s probably too late to say this but he has like a HUGE mommy kink, he may be more submissive but he will actually have a system reboot if he hears you gently calling him “mommy”.

💊Can hold his liquor extremely well, if you just keep drinking and drinking and getting drunk he is your guy to drive you back home. 

💊if he does somehow get drunk he is a cozy, silent type of drunk. The yap button gets turned off and he just kinda.. stares? And touches. A lot. He gets this cuteness aggression and just goes eerily silent while actually nuzzling you like a cat would, a very big cat.

💊Had a childhood plushie that was a pink bunny, he still has it and takes care of it like it’s actually a sacred item. The reason he cherishes it is because he somehow named it your name when he was a little kid, probably thinks it’s a god sent message. Puts it beside your little shrine.

💊Sleeps like a huge cat. A cat with a favorite toy. He hugs you in the most restricting way possible, like meaty thighs wrapped around your own legs and biceps locking your arms into place while he just snuggles into your hair.

💊If he was a fruit he would be a peach!

💊If he was any mythical creature I would say he is a kitsune or a drider. No questions asked. 

💊If you are a chronically ill person he immediately transforms into your own care taker and you won’t have to worry about medication or anything ever again.

💊Doesn’t matter if you are sick or not, he WILL make you drink disgusting smoothie blends, he claims it’s for your own good and will get mad and give you the silent treatment if you don’t drink the very last drop of celery and carrot juice. He will praise you and cradle you afterwards though.

💊If he was a Pokémon trainer he would have a blend of fairy types, psychic, poison and dark types. (You know well that his main Pokémon are a Sylveon and a sneasel.)

💊Is like *really* emotional towards you, like will cry if you scrape a knee and he wasn’t there to kiss your boo boo better.

💊Let me know if you want more!!!

[taegimood]

— fate (c.sb) ♡

pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader genre: angst, fluff, smut rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 1.1k warnings: mention of reader’s toxic ex (emotional neglect, abandonment), unplanned pregnancy, body insecurity, pregnancy/breeding kink, brief smut, let’s ignore the questionable timeframe lmao (anyway other than that it’s vv fluffy and soobin is the greenest of green flags >3<)

a/n - this is actually not at ALL what i had originally planned for this concept, it was supposed to just be another one of my lighthearted smutty ramblings (which i might still do in a separate post cuz this concept + soobin’s breeding kink is too juicy for me to pass up lmao) but i like it regardless.. i haven’t done an actual writing piece in ages. this one might be weird tbh lol but i hope you enjoy ~ [written w my lovely @miupow in mind <3]

masterlist

──────────────────────

it had been 12 months since you met the man who you thought would be forever — foolishly, blindly — the memory as bitter as the winter when you first saw him, mistaken then as something sweet.

it had been 10 months since you began to give him everything that he wanted — the body and the heart that you were never one to gift lightly — convinced that it was love, that it meant more in his eyes which you could never truly seem to read (though you always managed to fool yourself that you could).

it had been 6 months since you started doing anything and everything to make him keep wanting you, losing yourself so slowly in the process that you couldn’t even see it until one day suddenly you did.

it had been 3 months since he left you faster than the changing season when you told him the news, a hurricane of empty eyes and venomous words thrown like daggers that left you bleeding…

and it had been 3 months with a baby in your belly when choi soobin came into your life.

this time, the winter was nothing in comparison to the softness of his smile and the sunlight in his eyes when he stepped through that coffee shop door and into your forever.

—

soobin knew from the moment he saw you that you were someone he could see himself falling in love with.

he had no idea what made you say yes when he asked if you would have a cup of coffee with him;

(maybe it was the fact that he tripped and spilled his milkshake all over you while trying not to look like a loser as he passed by your table and then profusely promised to make it up to you and your poor pair of soiled sweatpants);

and he also had no idea what kept your pages closed even as he got to know you, what kind of shadow it was that would pass over your eyes at his compliments or what made you flinch at an accidental touch of your hands —

but he did know that more than anything he had ever wanted,

he wanted to see the smile reach your eyes.

~

falling in love with soobin came easily.

no matter how hard you first tried to fight it, deny it, run from it… it was as if loving him was something that you were simply made to do.

every soft smile, every careful touch, every word a caress as gentle as the breeze on a summer sunrise; every part of soobin slowly began to fill the cracks of your shattered heart with gold.

the day that he found out about the baby was the day that he told you his heart was yours.

“i know it hasn’t been long and i know i may sound crazy, but whatever happens or whatever doesn’t, y/n, i will love this baby, and i will love you.”

if this child’s father was a starless night then soobin was entire galaxies, the warmth and resoluteness in his eyes enough to melt away any claim that that man had left behind, and as far as you two were concerned, this baby’s real father was standing right here at your side.

——

it’s become harder to find room to love yourself these days as the months go on; your growing belly making it difficult to feel attractive, the insecurities that came with those months of feeling unwanted slowly creeping back into your mind and telling you that you’re not enough to make him stay.

logically, you know that your pregnant body is the only body of yours that soobin has so far seen, and of course here he is still wanting you — he proves it almost every night — but regardless you find yourself crippled by doubt and shame.

frowning at yourself in the mirror after every shower, stuck between the bubbling feelings of love for your baby and the guilt of hating how your body looks because of it.

little do you know, soobin has realized something about himself that he never saw coming before:

your pregnant body has him absolutely losing his mind.

he’s never felt so turned on in his life than when he’s got you laid across his sheets in the evenings with the curve of your swollen belly brushing against him as he slowly fucks into you, your tits full and bouncing softly with each thrust, small hands clutching onto him, your face flushed and beautiful and more undone than he’s ever seen it — free to let go of yourself in his arms.

it’s in these moments that he’s convinced he was made to worship your body with everything that he’s got.

soobin is so desperately attracted to every part of you, so determined to pour his love into you as many times as it takes for you to be able to see exactly what he sees every day;

he can’t help himself, can’t keep it in as he ravishes your cunt, the things he moans and whispers like a prayer in your ear enough to send shivers straight down to your core and push you over the edge every time.

you’re so so beautiful, baby, gonna be the most beautiful mama..

he touches you like he’ll never get the chance again.

perfect belly, perfect tits.. wanna fill you up like this, want you pregnant with my babies, f-fuck-

his name falls like a chant from your lips;

wanna give it all to you one day- wanna make you my wife and fill you up all round and pretty- you’re just s-so pretty, bunny, so perfect.

you feel prettier each time you fall apart.

i love your body, love our baby,

‘n i love you,

i love you,

i love you.

and when you ask him one morning if he means those things he always says, watching as a familiar rosy hue dusts across his dimpled cheeks, soobin takes your hand in his and promises you a lifetime.

——

it’s winter — your favorite season.

the air is crisp and full of starlight as you take a deep breath, the world falling quiet when you meet your husband’s eyes.

“the kids are asleep,” he whispers from the doorway,

and you’ve never been gazed at so tenderly.

you think about where you started and where you are now.

it’s been 5 years since choi soobin walked into your life, bringing the glimmering sun along with him.

5 years since he began showing you the meaning of well-kept promises and honest eyes,

of things that last and things that are allowed to be let go.

5 years since you welcomed your first child into your arms

and 3 since you welcomed your second; all beaming smiles and dimples just like her daddy;

and it’s been 12 months since your belly started growing with your third.

as you look down at the sleeping baby in your husband’s arms, every severed string of the past melts into one.

you smile at the boy from the coffee shop.

he smiles back, and soobin has all he’s ever wanted, because he has you —

because finally the smile reaches your eyes,

and he’s home.

[joluvsfinnick]

What Was Never Mine

f!reader x finnick odair

summary - bound by capitol lies, she stood at his side, pretending. then pretending turned to actually feeling. but when the war ends, so did the illusion. he runs to the sea, to the woman he’s always loved. she was his partner in name, never in heart. yet now, she must learn to let go of what was never truly hers.

warnings - sfw ! mentions finnicks backstory slightly. heartbreak? slight angst. unrequited love. both of you need a hug tbh.

authors notes - i haven’t wrote a fanfic since wattpad was a huge thing so bare with me. idk the word count i’m sorryyy!!! you win the 70th hunger games instead of annie. i want to write a part two of this!

—

Your relationship was built on lies. A scheme crafted by President Snow to amuse the Capitol. It began as a joke. During your victory tour after the 70th Hunger Games, Caesar had made a quip about your mentor, Finnick, hinting there was more than just a mentor and tribute bond between you. You blushed, of course. Finnick was striking. A handsome young man, only a year older than you, and very flirtatious. Of course, that was simply part of his persona. But how could you have known? You barely knew him. All you knew was he was extremely good with a trident and helped you survive in that arena.

You brushed Caesars question off with a giggle and wave of dismal, shaking your head as you lowered it. The blush on your face was, no doubt, burning through your makeup. The Capitol viewers notice this, and begin a string of ‘awww’ and ‘coos’ while Caesar wiggled his eyebrows, hungry to know more.

“I mean, hey, who wouldn’t want a piece of that?” He asks the crowd, his lips quirking into a smirk before giving an obnoxious laugh. You look up at him, your face hot with embarrassment. “And– oh! Well look at that, maybe I’m getting at something here?” He says, pointing out the obvious blush on your face. This makes the crowd erupt with excitement and delight.

Snow wasn’t a fan. He loathed how much the crowd adored you, but he despised even more how much they loved the idea of you and Finnick together. After all, Finnick was one of the finest bodies he owned in the Capitol. Praise poured in endlessly for the perfection of the District 4 victor, yet that praise began to wither the moment whispers of a relationship between you and him reached the ears of his buyers.

After a few weeks of people fawning over the idea of such a thing, Snow decides to give the people want they want. Give them a show to enjoy. A mentor and his mentee. How scandalous yet… riveting! It wasn’t long before your relationship was announced to the public, and you both began making appearances together. He was good at this. He seemed to effortlessly slip into the role. He’d take your hand with a tender squeeze as you walked into Capitol parties, press soft kisses to your forehead, your temple, even your upper neck, if he was truly aiming to show off. And wrap his arms around you from behind whenever the cameras were rolling.

Yet behind closed doors, he was never really yours.

You only found out about his relationship with Annie after Snow had proposed, no, commanded you two to get married. Finnick was outraged. You could tell on the train ride home that something was obviously bothering him. When you brought it up, he got defensive. He was almost rude with his responses, scoffing when you ask what was bothering him and if there was anything you could do to help.

“No, quite the opposite. You’ll make it worse.” Oh. That made your stomach drop. He had never once spoken to you like this, but something in you can see that he’s hurting, and hurt people sometimes hurt others without meaning to. You stay silent, your lips in a thin line as you observe him. He lets out a deep breath, regret racking his body once he realizes how rude his comment had been. “I’m sorry– I didn’t mean that.”

“No, no it’s okay.” You speak softly, as if talking any louder would get another reaction out of him. You hesitate for a moment, but when you notice he’s calming down you reach over the table you two are sitting at on the train and take his hands into yours. “Tell me what’s wrong.” And oh, how you regret asking. He explains everything. How there’s a girl at home waiting for him, how they’ve loved each other for years, and how he never imagined Snow would take this fake relationship so far.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You whispered, your eyes falling to your shoes as you avoid his gaze. You purse your lips into a thin line, anxiously awaiting his response.

“I was trying to protect her. The fewer people who know about her, the less chance Snow has of finding out. If he does, he’ll use her against me.” He muttered, raising a hand to rub the back of his neck, trying to steady himself. That night, your heart broke for two reasons. First, because Finnick may never truly know peace. He is haunted, by Snow, by the Capitol, by the sick things they’ve done to him. The torment they’ve inflicted never seems to end, not as long as he’s forced to perform for their amusement. And second, because the feelings you’ve come to nurture over these past few months… are feelings that will never be returned.

Now that the news of your wedding-to-be was swirling around the Capitol, Snow had decided it’d only be fitting if you two were to move in with each other. Because obviously, people are going to be watching you two like hawks. Two district 4 victors, especially one as stunning as Finnick, always have eyes watching them.

It’s easy at first, you both decide that your house will be the one they share, so he starts bringing his few, but precious, belongings over day by day. You guys stay in separate rooms, of course. He takes the guest room down the hall from yours.

You don’t complain, you know how dedicated he is to Annie. And although you can’t say you wouldn’t love the idea of sharing a bed with him, cuddling up next to him during those stormy nights, you respect both of them.

It doesn’t take long after he moves in for you to realize that you aren’t the only victim of nightmares from your games. You wake up in a cold sweat from your own nightmares sometimes, only to be met with shouts from his own.

Was it nightmares from just his games? Or did what he experience in the Capitol also take part in it? You never ask, you just get up and run to his room every-night you hear him. You sit on the edge of his bed, whispering soft nothings and you lightly touch the skin of his back, trying to soothe him. It works, he relaxes into your touch and feels comfort knowing he’s not alone.

The first night it happened, you hesitated for half an hour on whether or not you should go in there. A major part of you wanted to, knowing exactly what he’s going through, but another part of you was worried.

Would going in there to try and help even do anything? Or would it make it worse, seeing someone he’s been forced into a relationship with by the name of someone who’s put him through hell on earth.

Eventually, your heart outweighed your head, and you found yourself twisting the doorknob of his door. He’s sitting up now, hands cradling his head as he seems to rock back and forth on his bed.

“Finn?” You whispered, not wanting to scare him. His head shoots up, and that’s when you notice how tear stained his face is. He looks miserable. He looks vulnerable. You’ve never seen him like this.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to be more quiet.” He mutters, his voice cracking as some tears escape his eyes. You shake your head, not daring to move any closer.

“No, it’s okay.” You keep your voice soft. “I get them too.”

He knew that, of course. Every victor gets them, the nightmares, the ghosts, but knowing it doesn’t make enduring them any easier. When you turned to leave, his voice stopped you.

“Wait.”

You paused, turning back to face him. The misery etched across his face made it impossible to walk away. So when he asked you to stay, staying was the easiest thing in the world.

You tried to distance yourself, you truly did. But on those cold, lonely nights, you’d find yourself in the warmth of his bed, wrapped in the comfort of his arms. And each time, you felt yourself falling for him a little more. The soft words he’d whisper to soothe you when you woke up gasping from dreams of the arena. The gentle caress of his hands as you spoke of your hopes, your dreams, for a world that might someday be good again. And the warm, smug glances you’d exchange across crowded Capitol rooms, silently acknowledging what you both knew: that most of these people were complete idiots.

“You mean you really did have a crush on me?” He teases, his hand coming to his stomach as it shakes with laughter. Your eyebrows pinch together, trying to appear frustrated at him.

“I was 18, Finnick. I saw a tall, blonde, muscular man that was nice and flirty. What else do you expect?” You playfully scoff, rolling your eyes. You’d never tell him, but even now at 21, those feelings still remain. His laughter calms down, his gaze meeting yours before giving you a light shove with his elbow.

“I thought you were just trying to get some attention from the Capitol.” He admits, leaning back into the couch of the house you two now share.

“Trust me. I already had enough of that.” You mutter, crossing your arms as you remember the endless amount of sponsors that supported you throughout your games. “I didn’t want you to find out. Well, in that way of course.” This gets an eyebrow raise out of him.

“So you planned on telling me yourself?”

You pause. Had you planned on telling him? Absolutely not. He was intimidating, impossible to be around without feeling small. The moment you learned he would be your mentor, you became a nervous wreck. Your knees would buckle, your voice would tremble every time you answered one of his questions.

“No. I didn’t,” you admit, inhaling a sharp breath.

The conversation more or less ended there. He teased you about it now and then, until he realized the crush hadn’t entirely faded. No matter how hard you tried to hide it, he saw it. In the lingering glances you cast his way. In the soft touches that stayed a moment too long during public appearances. And most telling of all, in the quiet sadness that settled over your face whenever he spoke of his love for Annie.

You’ve met her twice. Both times, she was so sickeningly sweet and beautiful, it made it impossible for you to have any ill feeling towards her. You understood why Finnick loved her so dearly. She was the epitome of gentleness. Soft-spoken, radiant, and heartbreakingly pure in a world that had taken so much from them both. They were perfect for one another, and here you were, a brick wedged in between them.

One night, you both found yourself out on the shore as the comforting light of the moon shined down on both of you. You spoke for hours, discussing the future that we’d more than likely be spending together because as long as Snow is around, you have no choice. You feel like a monster admitting it, but a part of you is slightly in love with the idea of being with him forever.

“One day, when all of this is over, we can both be ourselves.” He had whispered, staring up at the different constellations that scattered the moonlit sky. “We’ll go our separate ways, have our separate families,” He pauses, turning to look at me before continuing. “But I will always remember the nights we shared like this.”

Your heart shattered hearing him speak of a future that didn’t include you. You couldn’t imagine a world where you didn’t need him. and yet, he already seemed to have one where he didn’t need you. Yes, you’d grown close over the years, maybe even become best of friends. But you would never be someone he couldn’t live without.

At least, that’s how it felt.

“I’ll remember every night.” You had replied, your voice almost in a hush as your pain stricken eyes searched his.

He let out a soft chuckle, one you couldn’t quite decipher. Was it laced with sympathy, or did he genuinely find it amusing? He sat up, steading himself with his hands behind him.

“It’d be hard to forget them, wouldn’t it be, sweetheart?” he said, his voice low, almost wistful. You sit up with him, a half hearted smile on your lips. That stupid nickname. One that began as a joke when an old man overused it while trying to flirt with you at one of the Capitols parties. And when you say overused, you mean it. He would add it on to every sentence. Finnick got a kick out of it, and decided that would be what he called you from now on. It’s stupid. So stupid. The worse part of it is how it makes your heart flutter, even knowing it’s not genuine.

It’s almost unfair how effortlessly your heart can fall for someone who may never be yours. To love them in silence, in stillness, in moments they may never notice. And yet, still find a kind of joy in the nearness. Because even if you’ll never own his heart, a part of yours will always feel at home in him.

2 years later

You’re 23 now, Finnick 24, and the quarter quell announcement had just been made.

“The tributes for the Third Quarter Quell are to be pulled from the existing pool of victors,”

Snow’s voice booms from the television, and a sick, hollow feeling anchors itself in your stomach as the words register. In District 4, there are only two living female victors: you and Annie. Only two males as well. Finnick and an older man whose name escapes you, though you know he must be nearing seventy. And you know, with chilling certainty, that Finnick will be reaped. It’s too perfect. Just the kind of twisted spectacle the Capitol feeds on.

As for you and Annie… all you can do is hope it’s you. Because if something were to happen to her, Finnick would break. Not just bend, but shatter completely. And if that happened, you know you’d lose him, the small part of him you have. Not just for a while.

Forever.

As expected, Finnick is reaped. He offers the crowd a smug smile, shoulders squared, confidence painted on like armor. But you know better. You know from the last few nights you’ve spent tangled in whispered fears and quiet embraces that all he really wants is to run. Far, far away from here.

You draw in a shaky breath as they reach into the bowl for the girls’ names. Only two slips of paper lie inside. Only two possible fates.

“Annie—” they begin. Your heart drops straight to your stomach. You turn to look at Finnick. His smile vanishes, replaced by a shadow that passes over his face as his gaze drops to the ground. In that moment, you know exactly what you have to do. And maybe, just maybe, it even plays into the Capitol’s twisted love story a little more.

What could be more tragic, more romantic, than volunteering in her place?

“I volunteer,” you shout, the words bursting from your lips before you can second-guess them. Annie flinches beside you, already trembling, already too close to breaking. Finnick’s eyes snap to you, wide with shock, and something else you can’t quite name. Annie sobs, her relief immediate and overwhelming. She doesn’t have to go back into the arena. But the fear remains, for the man she loves, and for you. A friend she’s come to care for, now walking willingly into the fire.

—

When asked why you did it by Caesar, you just shrug.

“I can’t imagine a world without him.”

Truth.

“If something happens to him in that arena, I can only pray I’ll receive the same fate. Living in a world without him is like living without sunlight, cold, dim, and unbearable. He’s in everything now. Every breath I take, every hope I hold. Without him, I’m not sure I’d know how to keep going.” This response gets a kick out of the crowd, some crying while others shout about how unfair this whole situation is.

You couldn’t agree more.

The night before you head into the arena, you once again find yourself in the comfort of his bed. You both just lie there, looking at the ceiling. No words are spoken for what seems like hours, before Finnick finally speaks up.

“What are you taking as your token?” He murmurs. You shrug, not having thought about it.

“Not sure. Guess it’s too late now, right? Games are in…” You pause, glancing at the clock. “Seven hours.” It’s ridiculous, really, how soon it all begins. And yet here the two of you are, wide awake, restless, lying side by side in silence, staring up at the ceiling like it might hold some kind of answer.

It’s quiet for a long moment before he finally speaks, his voice rough around the edges. “I have something I want you to take… if you want to.”

He sits up, reaches into the bedside drawer without looking at you, like it’s easier not to. When he turns back, there’s a bracelet in his hand, ocean-blue thread woven through with tiny seashells and pale, glimmering pearls.

You sit up with him, the sight of it stealing the breath from your lungs. “I made it a long time ago,” he murmurs, still not quite meeting your gaze. “Before any of this. Before you.” He runs a thumb over the shells like they still hold pieces of who he was. “I didn’t know who it was meant for until now.”

You swallow hard, heart twisting. This isn’t a confession of love, not the way you once wanted. But it’s something else. Something heavier. A bond built in shadows, stitched together by fear, survival, and the strange, silent comfort of knowing someone else understands the weight you carry.

He gently presses it into your palm. “We’re both walking into hell again,” he says. “I just… I don’t want you to forget that someone sees you. That someone knows you. Even if it’s not the way you hoped.”

And for a second, it’s almost worse than if he had said he loved you.

—

The moment Katniss shot that arrow at Coin and left Snow to die at the hands of the others was the moment you realized the Capitol had been officially taken down. No more fighting. You, and everyone else, were finally free.

Which means so was Finnick.

He was free to return to his one and only true love, Annie. You knew there was no stopping him, and even if you could, would you want to?

You’d seen him break, crying into your chest on those endless nights when the nightmares of Snow using her against him wouldn’t relent. Nights when the ache of missing her was so raw all he could do was clutch the worn picture of her he kept tucked safely in his pocket.

Those painfully bittersweet weekends you shared, the forced smiles, the carefully scripted dates, the stolen touches meant only for the cameras’ eyes, all to make your charade more believable to the Capitol.

A performance of love that was never yours to hold.

And the night of your wedding. How could you forget? He sobbed for hours, his heart heavy with a mix of guilt and anger. It wasn’t fair to any of you, and it definitely wasn’t fair to Annie. She loved him so deeply, so completely, and yet here she was, forced to watch another girl marry him, to witness him share moments with you that she had only ever dreamed of. She longed to hold his hand in public, to place gentle kisses on his lips, to show the world he was hers. And yet here you are, living out everything she had silently wished for.

You knew all of this. Yet it was so hard to let him go.

Reluctantly, you did.

You had taken on his last name, by Snow’s orders, but when the rebellion toppled the Capitol, Plutarch found a way to end the charade. To terminate your marriage. Finnick was more than willing to sign the papers, his signature a quiet surrender.

But you? You couldn’t shake the ache.

Because even if it was never real, at least not in the way others saw it, a part of it had been real to you. And maybe, just maybe, it was real to him too, if he ever dared admit it.

That strange, fragile connection you both had, a tether woven through fear, hope, and a love that wasn’t quite love.

You sit alone in the quiet that follows, the weight of years pressing down like a stone on your chest. The echoes of laughter, whispered promises, and stolen moments haunt the empty spaces where he once was. You reach for the bracelet he gave you, tracing the worn threads between your fingers, a fragile reminder of a bond that was never meant to be.

After all, was it right of you to miss someone that was never really yours?

The question lingers in the silence, unanswered and aching, as you finally let the tears fall for what was lost, not love, not quite, but something painfully close.

Something you’ll carry with you always.

Beside your chair, a half-empty bottle of amber liquor catches the light, its surface smudged with fingerprints. The glass in your hand is nearly empty, warmed by your grip, its burn long since dulled by repetition.

At first, it was just to sleep. The nightmares seem to come back full force and stronger now that you don’t have the gentle embrace of his arms. Then, to forget. Now, it’s just something to hold when there’s nothing else.

You sit still, curled into yourself, gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the window. Outside, waves crash against the shore in a rhythm that hasn’t changed, even though everything else has. A jacket hangs untouched over the back of a chair. His.

The room stays quiet.

The world goes on.

And you don’t move.

Psssttt. Pt. 2 & Pt.3

[traumadumpwriter]

Held Together

Bf!JJ Maybank X Pogue!Reader

Summary: In the devastating aftermath of John B and Sarah’s disappearance, JJ struggles to express his grief until it suddenly overwhelms him.

Trigger warnings for panic attacks, anxiety and grief.

Word count: 2.1k

This was another request. I know I took ages to do this and I haven’t posted anything new in a while sorrryy lol I’ve been low-key so so depressed and hating my writing, really not a fan of this one tbh. If any of you are interested in my other accounts my most active one is @gross99 ;P . As per don’t forget my inbox is open if you’re struggling with anything and my requests are open. Hope y’all enjoy <3 (divider by @i-mmaculatus )

Ever since that rainy night in which two of your best friends had supposedly died, things had obviously been quite different. John B and Sarah had tried to evade police capture by driving a fishing boat through a tropical storm and no one had seen them since. The moment that Deputy Shoupe had stepped into the tent, his head bowed low before he told everyone the news, would be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life.

You'd known before he even opened his mouth what he was going to say but it didn't make it land any less painfully.

"We lost them. Sorry."

JJ was stood beside you, his body tightened and his fists clenched, and although you wanted to reach out and touch him - to try to somehow calm him in some way - you were unable to move. Your body felt as if it were made of lead and although you heard the words that Kie and Pope spoke to Shoupe, you didn't process them until later on.

Lost? What did that even mean?

It hadn't surprised you when JJ shouted, his voice torn and full of hurt, blaming the Deputy for his part in it all - trying to somehow get some justice despite knowing he never would. You wanted to shout too, to also try to claim your own kind of justice but you had just felt so... frozen. Like nothing around you was real.

You had watched JJ lunge at the officers in his blind grief, and although the sight went off in your head as being something that you should intervene with, that alert quickly faded into the background and was instead replaced by a loud, foggy silence and mental visions of your "lost" friends.

Only when Kie had loudly cried "JJ stop!" a couple of times did you find yourself suddenly able to snap out of the trance, rushing over to your boyfriend and desperately trying to reach for him between the officers.

"JJ. Calm down." You'd pleaded, the cracking in your voice surprising you.

It was then that you noticed the warm streams running down your face and down JJ's. Like your voice possessed some magic tone, JJ looked up at and froze for a moment, his eyes glistening red, and then shoved the officers from his arms. They'd backed away quickly upon seeing he was finally somewhat calm, and he wrapped his arms tightly around you.

You could feel how tense his muscles still were, how he was one inch away from seriously loosing his mind, and hear the fast drum beating pace of his heart. Usually, his chest would be a warm place where everything was safe, but that night there would be no amount of real comfort either of you could offer each other. You'd found yourself suddenly uncontrollably sobbing into his t-shirt, the cries erupting out of your chest as Kiera and Pope's parents arrived.

It seemed like everyone had some noise to make, whether it was words of comfort, cries, questions, sniffles or gasps. But JJ had stayed silent.

And the silence lasted for a while after that night.

In fact, it had now been weeks and JJ was still just as withdrawn, unable to joke or laugh or even get angry like he used to. He'd seemingly gone into some robotic mode, disappearing for hours at a time, pacing around the spots he'd associated with John B, and then returning to you with a plain, steely face, insisting that he was okay.

Realistically you knew that he wasn't, but you didn't want to press him, unsure of what really was the right way to grieve. All you'd done was cry and cuddle your boyfriend, beyond grateful to have him there. If he hadn't been with you, you probably wouldn't have eaten, but then again nor would’ve he. Every night you'd curl up on his lap and let tears fall from your eyes, remaining there for hours as you gradually drifted into sleep.

JJ on the other hand had hardly been sleeping. He'd been so tired, but entirely unable to turn his brain off. When he was able to finally rest his dip into unconsciousness, it never lasted long. His brother's face haunted him, and even Sarah's, in dreams so realistic that he could've swore that his friends had just been in the room with him.

It was due to one of these dreams that JJ finally cracked. He finally made some noise.

This dream had been the worst one yet - a macabre nightmare - and it shocked JJ out of his slumber, causing him to shoot out from under the covers with wide eyes, panting as he came back to reality. He looked at you, comfortable and sweet in your bed, and didn't think twice about sneaking out of the room, desperate not to wake you up and let you see him like this.

But what was this?

He didn't understand what was happening. He just knew that it felt like the world was crushing him, physically and mentally, and he wasn't sure how much longer his shaking legs would be able to hold him up for.

Slowly, he made his way to the bathroom and quietly closed the door, cursing himself for always forgetting to fix the lock before finally collapsing onto the floor. His breath felt impossible to catch; his chest being squeezed by some invisible force and his stomach being twisted by the same thing. He tried to keep the chokes of his struggled breaths hushed, rocking back and forth with his legs pressed to his torso, but he found it increasingly difficult as he got more panicked.

A painful loop of images and words plagued his mind; a nonstop film of memories that only made his chest tighter.

He had lost John B - his brother - forever. And the people to blame would never be brought to justice.

This mental reel went on for a while before JJ couldn't hold in his sobs anymore, something that only made his breathing more difficult and ragged. He had never felt so small and helpless in his life, not since he had been a little boy getting beaten by his father, only this helplessness was even more crippling as there was no way of actually fighting it back.

At the same time, you had awoken at the absence of JJ's warmth and sat confused for a moment, wondering where he might be. His imprint in the bed was almost cold, so wherever he'd gone he had been there for some time. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stroked the material, worry building in your gut, and then you quickly decided to get up and check around the house, knowing that your parent wasn’t in and wouldn’t be for another while.

"JJ?" You called, stepping out into the corridor.

You got no reply back, but you did notice that the bathroom door was closed and there seemed to be some noise coming from in there. For a second you hesitated, wondering if he was just on the toilet, but something in your gut told you that he wasn't.

When you pushed on the handle you weren't expecting to see what you did. Your boyfriend curled up and infantile, looking so delicate, with such a dizzying array of panic and grief in his eyes. His breathing was fast and shallow - too fast - and his fists were clenched, like he was ready to rip apart the bathroom tiling that he’d so kindly done for your parent last summer.

"JJ?" You spoke lowly.

He didn't answer - didn’t even look at you - and it made a shiver run up your spine. You quickly stepped over to him.

"Hey... what's going on?"

Still nothing.

And then a loud choke, his lungs unable to hold it in any longer.

"Fuck!" he shouted, curling over, hands in his hair. "Fuck- fuck, I can't- he's gone, I can't-"

You dropped to your knees in front of him, your heart hammering. "JJ. JJ, look at me."

He shook his head, tears streaking down his pink cheeks. "He's not coming back. He's not- he's gone- he's gone and I can't fix it."

He sounded almost as if he was choking on his words, frequently stopping for sharp breaths and tightly gripping his knees. You'd never seen him look so scared and you battled to not feel scared yourself, taking a second to collect your mind before grabbing his hands, continuing to hold them even when he pulled away.

"JJ, try to catch your breath." You said firmly, though your tone was still gentle. "You're having a panic attack darling, I promise things are going to be okay."

He started crying harder, hands shaking in yours like he didn't know how to hold on. You shifted your body so that you were closer to him, pressing your forehead against his and squeezing his fingers as you continued to speak, voice soft.

"I've got you. Just breathe with me. Right here. Right now."

"But he's gone, Y/N! Him- and Sarah! They're dead- and we're never gonna see them- never gonna speak to them- ever again." He sobbed.

And you wished you could say that he was wrong, but he wasn't. You swallowed, blinking back your own tears and then, stroking his bruised cheekbone whispered "I know baby, I know."

For a while you just stayed there on the cold bathroom tile, breathing for him while he couldn't do it on his own, squeezing his palms and cooing softly. He slowly stopped shaking, though his breath still hitched now and then, whilst your fingers traced patterns rhythmically across his palms.

Then he finally spoke, raspy and barely audible.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Don't be silly." You murmured, brushing his damp hair from his forehead. "There's nothing wrong with you."

He didn't respond. Just closed his eyes and leaned forward a little, resting his head against your shoulder. You felt the weight of him - how heavy he'd become with exhaustion, his bones aching and tired. The silence seemed to fill in the cracks of those bones for a short while, at least as JJ learnt to breathe again.

"It's gonna be okay. I'm here. You're gonna be alright." You eventually broke the silence with a soothing whisper, which he responded to by gripping onto you even tighter, his wet face buried into your collarbone like a scared child.

"Just promise me- you'll never leave me. Yo-You'll stay with me- forever. You're all I have now."

"I'm not all you have. What about Kie and Pope. Even Hayward and my parents?" You tried to reason but he cut you off frantically.

"Please just promise me, Y/N. I- I can't loose you too."

You squeezed him lightly and placed a soft kiss on his forehead, holding your lips there for a short moment before answering quietly.

"I promise, JJ. I'm never going to leave you... And you're never going to leave me either. We'll both have each other until the end of time... You're never going to be alone, I promise."

Eventually, his muscles started to relax and his breathing became balanced. You let another healing minute of quiet pass until he seemed almost still; no more sniffles escaping from the gaps between your skin and a considerably slower heart rate; his veins no longer raised and pulsing with the pump of his adrenaline filled blood.

"Should we go back to bed?" You quietly suggested, tracing a circular pattern on the back of his neck.

After another long moment, he nodded - barely - and slowly stood up, gripping the sink as if he might fall over but then quickly letting go of it, avoiding eye contact with you. He turned on the cold tap and washed his face, rubbing at the skin roughly before following you into the bedroom.

The sheets were messy, still holding the shape of where you'd both been before all of this. JJ crawled in with a heaviness that hurt to watch, curling toward you with the same infantile vulnerability that you'd seen in him during his panic attack. His face was puffy and blotched with red, but he still looked so beautiful - even in his worst state.

You tucked yourself behind him, pressing your chest to his back and draping your arm around his waist, holding him as much as you could. He didn't say anything, but with a slowing, shaky breath he laced his fingers through yours.

"I've got you." You whispered, placing a soft kiss on the back of his head. "Just sleep. I'm not going anywhere."

It was a long time before either of you slept. But when JJ finally did you found yourself able to drift off again. Your sleep was dreamless and for once so was his, and so you both slept; two broken pieces held together just enough to get through the night.

Uploading this at midnight bc I can’t sleep. Have proofread it but my brain is tired so might not be great. Potential edits incoming! Lots of love <3

[dontbesoweirdkira]

25. “This might sound weird, but I like it when you’re sick. Because then you let me take care of you.”

¡Yandere! Raiden x reader

A/N: y’all be neglecting yandere mk1 Raiden so I had to whip something up (tbh mk11 dark Raiden reigns superior. I love papa) but there’s so much you can do with his “sweet” personality wink wonk

Requests: always open

Masterlist

Raiden was more than desperate for your attention/affection. It has been a few weeks since he’s captured and taken you away for himself, yet you still haven’t come around to him.

You ignored most of his questions and attempts to talk with you. Even shunning away when he’d try to touch you, even if it was a light tap on your shoulder to get your attention.

He knows what he did was wrong. He shouldn't have taken you like that but you were slipping away from him. Your interest in him was depleting and someone else had your attention. He was guilty of letting his sinful desires rule over him.

That guilt wasn’t enough to stop him though. Raiden couldn’t help himself from manipulating you, playing up his innocent side to get what he wanted . He loved being the shoulder you cried on even though he’s the reason your lover was now gone and how soon, you’d be taken by him and locked up for his ownership. It was all so sick yet it filled him with a certain level of joy nothing else could replicate .

He manipulated, stalked and killed his way into your heart. You hated his guts for what he’s done to your life. Just thinking back and putting the pieces together is enough to make you feel nauseous.

You tried your best to not give him anything else he may have wanted from you. You never asked him for items and reluctantly took the necessities he offered. You knew any positive interaction, no matter how small, would just fuel his delusions more…but that all changed after you became sick.

When the virus first hit you, Raiden asked if you were doing okay because of how sickly you appeared but you denied saying that you were okay. You told him how he should just leave you alone and let you handle it yourself.

Deep down you prayed that it was just some common cold with a little fever but each day it became worse. Your entire body ached, your head spun and your throat was sore. You could tell without a thermometer that your fever was through the roof.

Your pride wanted to stop you from calling out your captor’s name but staying in this worsening condition was agony. You couldn’t handle yourself, you couldn’t even stand up to go to the bathroom. You unfortunately needed him.

“..raiden..?” You hesitantly called out

A few moments later he opened your room door, a bit confused to hear his name being called by you. That confusion quickly turned into concern when he saw you curled up on the ground with tears in your eyes.

“Y/n? Did you call me? Are you okay, you seem so unwell.”

Using a bit of your strength to sit up, you reached up your arms out towards him and cried

“Everything hurts, Ray. P-please make it stop.”

Hearing your voice crack and beg for him made Raiden even crazier for you. He knew it, he knew one day you’d come around. It just sucks you’re so sick when it finally happened though.

Without much hesitation, he picked you up and carried you in his arms to the master bedroom, the one you were supposed to be sharing with him.

There, a close eye would be kept on you around the clock and he could wait on you whenever you needed. It was an honor to be needed by you like this. Regardless of how often you asked for something or how tired he was, he did anything you asked without any complaints.

He brought you soups, medicines, food and whatever else you desired. He was so caring and generous to you, even despite how cold you’ve been towards him. It might’ve been the medicine or the feeling of guilt but you started letting up on him. Maybe he wasn’t the worse, besides lifeline at the moment. You found yourself cuddled up to him and craving his affection while you got better. Even pouting when he had to leave for something.

He ran his fingers through your hair and hummed. This moment was so perfect. This was all he ever wanted from you. He could take care of his darling like this forever. Your pouts, whines and clinginess sends him into overdrive every single time.

“This might sound weird, but I like it when you’re sick. Because then you let me take care of you.”

A chuckle escaped your mouth and you sarcastically spoke, not thinking much into your words…

“Yeah, you should savor this. It’s probably the only time I’ll ever be this cuddly towards you again.”

Suddenly, Raiden stopped massaging your scalp and grabbed a fist full of your hair. He you pulled up to his face. His eyes narrowed and he shifted his position yet his signature sweet smile was plastered across his face.

You could feel the light energy in the room switch and become heavy. An uneasiness in your chest raced through your chest as you waited for his next move.

Raiden didn’t appreciate your answer, he’s been so good to you. You’re going to take all this away from him after you get better?! He’s proven his love and devotion to you. He needed this, he needed you.

“Well then, maybe I should keep you sick like this so you’ll always need me. You’re just far too precious like this.”

His voice had a hint of playfulness to it, but it was overshadowed by something far more sinister than that.

“You’d let me take care of you like this forever, right?”

His smile dropped a little bit, his head tilted to the side and his eyes widened, almost like a tiny puppy waiting for its owner to accept its invitation to play with them.

You could tell that he genuinely wanted an answer. Not an honest one, but a sweet one he could replay in his head over and over.

You nodded and agreed.

“Who else would take care of me if you didn’t?”

The biggest smile came across is face as he almost exploded with joy. Cupping your face in the palms of his hands, he pulled you close, smashing a loving kiss on your lips. A soft nip of your bottom lip beckoned you to kiss him back, fearful of where another rejection might lead you complied

You were foolish to let your guard down and to not choose your words more carefully. He’s now gotten a taste of your love and he’s never going back from it.

[hazzabeeforlou]

i had a question and i hope that it doesn’t sound rude. do you feel ashamed being in the fandom and being a shipper at 32? i ask because i am 27, and have been in the fandom since 2012, off and on. i haven’t rly been in it actively for the last two years or so, but when i want to come back, i feel embarrassed. i also don’t think i could handle the stress of it tbh! lol. i hope you are well <3

I was going to answer this yesterday but then remembered I had a 7 hour drive today and didn’t want to stay up later than I already was. Because I’m an adult, with (now one) previous multiple jobs, a pet, rent, vehicle, three post high school diplomas, and student loans, and there are many things in my life I get ashamed of, like when I answer “you too” when a cashier tells me thanks for shopping or when I let a whole bag of celery go bad in my fridge without ever cleaning or eating it. Shame? At my tax dollars funding death weapons and family members voting for strong men? Sure. Latent homophobic internalized shame from my upbringing? Yeah, sometimes.

But life is too fucking short to be embarrassed or hold shame about a FANDOM. Listen, I “ship” Johnlock, or Merthur, but Larry wasn’t a ship for me it was a discovery of queer joy. Like I’m so sorry but baby Larry was real. 100%, actually, seriously legit, like how else do you fucking explain any or all of that. We watched two boys fall in love with each other and okay we don’t know the devil or the details but we have how many albums and interviews, jokes made by media personalities etc, plus the fact that now, this many years later, their solo stuff is still haunted by a nauseating back and forth, these odd lyrical choices that are echoed in the other?

Yeah it’s not a ship. It’s a thing that happened, that we witnessed, and by virtue of it happening and us witnessing it something about gay love became dreamable, reachable, attainable, soft and puppy and exciting and wild. Their secret sign language and mimed blow jobs and jealous looks and touches when they thought there were no cameras, all those things made queerness not just something you saw on Glee. Not just something your parents talked about while wrinkling their nose up about ‘those people.’ It’s a generational thing, the world has moved on, we don’t NEED Larry anymore. And that’s okay. But we don’t need it because it happened. Not to be a brat but you exist in the context of all in which you live and what came before you.

And yeah, we wrote fics about highly characterized and publicized versions of Larry, often inserting our own traumas or fantasies, creating a kind of gay mythos around this witnessed event from the periphery, from the lens of the consumer, the only lens we have. But I’m not ashamed of that. You think stories are only ever written about people that don’t exist? At some point you have to acknowledge that in our world, celebrities are the deities of our popular imagination. I could write a thesis, but before I get into the weeds, suffice to say Harry and Louis have created a world of what can be, unburdened by what has been.

Yk? Anyways. Hope this made you feel better. And hope you come back to visit from time to time. I’ll be here.

[drysdalesworld]

PHASE TWO — always trust the match maker (jamie’s version)

part one

pairing: jamie drysdale x reader

genre: fluff (lots of it tbh)

word count: 4.8k+

warning(s): trev getting too smug about being cupid, georgie being (*forcefully*) dragged into trevor’s ideas, reader cannot skate in this part so if you can please just pretend 🙏, meddling trev, confessions of love (FINALLY JESUS), mentions of parties + alcohol, & a teeny tiny makeout sesh (BOOMSHAKALAKA)

note: decided to replace the gifs with pictures bc they seem more aesthetically pleasing to my eyes & are a little summary as to what will/may be in the fic <3 brittany is an oc that i made up for the plot who is mason mctavish’s girlfriend. also, thinking of doing a bonus chapter/part 3 inspired by “meet the parents” but idk 🤷‍♀️ let me know if you’d like that! (or i could do a poll for it) sorry that the ending is a little rushed, i was just so excited to get it out <3

“You know she can’t skate, right?”.

If looks could kill, Trevor Zegras would be six feet under at the moment.

Georgie didn’t understand the man’s fascination with getting her roommate and his teammate together. She could see the attraction they shared but would rather not meddle with it. Trevor and his want of being involved in everything is really shining through in this current moment.

“That’s perfect! Jamie’ll be right there to swoop in and save her from falling. See? My plan is perfect, Gigi!” Trevor exclaimed, eyes shining with excitement and anticipation.

His current plan for ‘phase two’ of his plan to get you and Jamie together included the family skating event that the Anaheim Ducks were hosting later in the week and since neither Jamie nor Trevor had family in California, it was a perfect idea to recruit you and your roommate as their plus ones for the night. He’d pair himself up with Georgie while Jamie was paired with you. It was perfect in his eyes. Nothing could go wrong and that night would be the night where everything fell into place and the both of you would finally get together after bearing witness to the mutual pining and obliviousness.

“Y’know this isn’t a rom-com movie, right?” Georgie scoffed out, eyes rolling and head shaking as she did so.

“I’m well aware thank you,” Trevor sassed, copying the actions of the woman in front of him. “You have nothing to worry about. She’ll be in great hands. Jamie won’t let her fall or anything”.

The woman across from him only hummed and crossed her arms over her chest, not fully believing in the blue eyed man. Whatever he’s planning, she thought, better be good. Poor girl deserves a break.

———

“You know I can’t skate, right?”.

The question seemed to hit Trevor in the face, eye nearly twitching in agitation.

“Yes. I’ve been made aware of that”.

“So why do you want me to go to your family skate so bad?”.

The blue eyed man nearly wanted to rip the ends of his hair out in frustration. Why couldn’t you just say yes without any questions? It was a simple question that required a simple answer.

“You can practice your skating skills! Everyone should at least learn how to skate one time in their life. Plus, neither Jamie or I have family in California and it’d be nice for you and Georgie to tag along,” he replied, internally on his hands and knees begging as he asked you.

“I’ll fall,” you retorted, arms crossed against your chest.

“Jamie or I will be there to catch you. Hell, if you want Mason to do it, I’ll make sure he will. Just…please come”.

Trevor’s words only caused you to sigh out, nerves already bunching in your stomach at the thought of stepping on the ice. It’s not that you haven’t skated before. It’s just that it’s been years since you have and even then, it was only your third time ever skating. You didn’t want to make yourself look like a fool and fall straight on your face.

“Promise?” You asked.

“Promise,” Trevor nodded.

“Don’t make me regret trusting you, Zegras”.

“I’d never. Scouts honor!”.

You had a feeling that you were going to regret agreeing to skating with Trevor. And you’d be proven right exactly four days after this interaction.

———

“If I slip and die, I’m going to haunt your ass!” You shrieked, hands out in front of you as you wobbled on the sleek ice, trying to balance yourself.

The force of laughter that left Jamie’s lips nearly knocked the both of you over, skates slipping back and forth on the ice as you tried to balance yourself once more.

You don’t know how you were in your right mind when you agreed to Trevor’s family skate idea. You immediately regretted it the minute you stepped onto the ice and nearly face planted. He had managed to catch you last minute, hauling you up as he laughed at your state, declaring you ‘Bambi on ice’.

You had been handed off to Jamie when Trevor decided to help Georgie, even though she had a lengthy history of skating and could manage on her own. He practically dragged you over to the Canadian before lightly shoving you into his frame, clinging onto Jamie’s outstretched arms as you cursed the Zegras boy out.

“You’re doing great so far! Just focus on what’s in front of you,” Jamie replied, the sweetest smile on his face as he continued to grasp your hands in his own. You were surprised he could still feel his hands from how tight you were gripping them. “It’s always hard the first couple of minutes on the ice. But it gets better as time goes on”.

“Says the professional skater”.

He grinned at your statement, eyes never straying from yours as he did so. You did have a point. Jamie had has ample time to refine his skating skills whereas you barely even touched the ice growing up.

“Okay, you got me there. But trust me. The more time you spend on the ice today, the easier it will be next time,” he added, eyes quickly darting behind him to make sure no one was behind him as he continued to skate backwards.

“Next time? Oh no! No. There will not be a next time! This is the only time I will be stepping on the ice,” you retorted, shaking your head.

Jamie only shook his head in response, grin still plastered on his face as the both of you continued to glide across the ice.

“It won’t be if Trevor has anything to do with it. Now, you’re doing great! Just keep bending your legs,” he replied, hands tightening their grip on yours ever so slightly.

A scoff was the only response to escape your lips as you continued to focus on skating properly, desperate to not fall on your face.

———

“So, how was it?”.

Hours had passed and you were all skated out, Jamie practically carrying you off the ice as you complained about how much your feet hurt.

A glare was shot in Trevor’s direction. His usual, stupid grin on his face as he plopped himself right next to you as Jamie untied your skates for you. (You had protested much on the fact. But he insisted on untying your laces for you. You could not refuse him after he practically pouted at you to let him.)

“I’m killing you when we get home,” you replied, massaging your foot once it was free from the tortuous confinement of the ice skate. “I can’t feel my feet, Trev!”.

“She did pretty good. Better than I expected,” Jamie commented, gently placing the other foot onto his thigh, fingers deftly untying the laces.

You let out a gasp of shock, gently nudging Jamie’s forehead as you pouted, “You have no faith in me at all!”.

The onyx haired man only chuckled at your response, shaking his head a little to fix his locks as he continued to aid you in getting out of your skates.

“From what I could see, you did well, babe” Georgie piqued, skates already off and tennis shoes on her feet. Her piercing eyes glared at Trevor for a second before returning to you, softening a bit.

You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to her, a gentle smile on your face.

“All right,” Jamie murmured, softly taking your foot out of the unlaced skate and placing it on the ground underneath him. “You’re all ready to go!”.

“Thanks, Jimmy!” You spoke, stretching out that foot as you wiggled your toes and tried to relieve yourself of the soreness.

Trevor shot Georgie a look, something that neither you or Jamie noticed. The man wiggled his eyebrows a bit, earning an eye roll and a smack to the shoulder from the woman in front of him.

“McTavish is having a little get together later tonight if y’all are interested in joining,” Georgie commented, very discreetly kicking Trevor’s shin, earning a yelp from him.

“Oh, right! Something about starting the new season off with a bang or whatever,” the brunet added, rubbing his shin. That’ll definitely bruise.

“We should definitely go!” He continued, trying to gauge you and Jamie’s separate reactions to the suggestion.

You looked a little unsure, sparing a quick glance to Jamie as he absorbed the information given to him. Parties were never your thing to begin with. But it always managed to be fun if a certain Ducks player attended.

Jamie shrugged, hand still loosely holding onto your ankle, “Sure!”.

You nodded in response, a smile gracing your features as you looked at Georgie in confirmation.

“Great!” She exclaimed, hands clapping together as she ushered you up, ankle now becoming cold as Jamie’s hand slipped from it. “Us girls will get ready while you two do whatever. Just don’t forget (Y/N)’s drinks this time”.

Georgie shot a hard look at Trevor when she finished her commentary, glaring at him once more before she handed you your shoes and turned your back towards the two boys.

The blue eyed man only rolled his eyes and scoffed, arms crossing over his chest.

“She’s right. Don’t forget it,” Jamie added, including his, in Trevor’s opinion, unwanted input.

“I won’t, lover boy,” Trevor scoffed, ruffling his friends hair before getting up himself, phase two already beginning to circle in his brain.

———

The ‘little get together’ Mason was throwing was, in fact, not little.

If you had to guess, you would say there were at least thirty people squished in Mason’s apartment. Every person there either seemed to be a player or a friend of a friend. You didn’t recognize most unfortunately.

People were bumping into one another as they mingled their way through the crowd to get somewhere else or greet another friend. It was overwhelming to say the least. And it didn’t help that once you stepped through the door, Georgie excused herself to go to the bathroom and left you by the overflowing coat rack Mason had stationed by the entrance to his apartment.

You were close to turning around and leaving the party when you heard someone shout your name—Trevor.

“And where do you think you’re going, missy?” He asked, two alcoholic beverages in hand. “You’ve barely been here thirty seconds and you already want to leave,” Trevor continued, tsking at you.

“This isn’t a little get together, Z,” you shouted, the music and loud talking in the small space making it hard to hear what Trevor was saying.

Trevor sheepishly shrugged. “It was!” He exclaimed, “But then Brittany wanted to bring some of her friends and then they wanted to bring some of their friends…”.

You only shook your head, snatching the familiar labeled beverage in his hand and cracking it open before he finished his sentence.

“But hey, Jamie’s here!” He excitedly shouted, a wide smile spreading on his lips. “He’s back in Mason’s room! I left him there to get you since Georgie texted me that you guys were here”.

A small blush crept onto your cheeks at the mention of the defenseman, warming up your face. Trevor had taken that reaction as a sign to grab your free hand and drag you to Mason’s room, squeezing his way through the numerous bodies littered across the room.

“It should be more peaceful in there,” Trevor commented, turning his head a little bit so you could hear him. He knew how you got with large enough crowds and had personally asked Mason if you could stay in there for a majority of the time so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed. (Not that getting you into Mason’s room with Jamie was a part of his plan, of course not!)

Once you had reached the pearl white wooden door, Trevor had quickly ushered you in before closing the door behind himself, trying extremely hard to keep a straight face so as to not blow his cover.

Jamie was seated on Mason’s bed, elbows on knees as he was scrolling through whatever app he had on his phone. His dark hair had fallen forward due to the position, causing Jamie to have to push back the strands to get a good look at whoever walked into the room.

A smile broke onto his lips once he saw that it was you. “Hey,” he spoke, turning off his phone and throwing it to the left of him, the device making contact with the soft pillows.

“(Y/N/N) here tried to run. But, I caught her in time before she could make an escape. You’re welcome,” Trevor praised himself, giving a little bow to Jamie and you.

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your beverage. “Oh, why, thank you so much, Trev!”.

Only a wide grin was Trevor’s response to your quip, teeth on full display as his blue eyes twinkled with an all too familiar look.

But before you could question what he was up to, a loud knock came from behind Mason’s bedroom door, catching the attention of all three of you in the room.

The door opened to reveal Lukáš Dostál, one of the Ducks goalies. He had a sheepish smile on his face as he called out to Trevor, telling him that Mason needed him real quick before slowly backing away from the door frame to allow space for the center player to get through.

“Alright,” Trevor spoke, clapping his hands together, or at least as much as he could with his beer in hand. “I must depart. So, I’ll leave you two alone. Don’t miss me too much now”.

A fake laugh escaped your lips as the boy exited the room, the loud slam and click of the door echoing throughout the room. Trevor shot you a small wink just before he completely disappeared behind the door.

“He’s up to something,” Jamie commented, eyes squinted at the door, gaze lingering on the general area Trevor stood just moments prior.

“I was about to say the same thing, Drysdale” you murmured, non dominant hand on hip as your dominant one still held your cool beverage.

“You’d think we’d have a sixth sense for this,” he chuckled, fingers raking through his dark hair. “With all the shit he pulls, you’d think we’d be better at recognizing when he’s up to something”.

You smiled at his comment, nodding with what he was saying as you took a sip of your drink. Trying to pinpoint what exactly Trevor was up to was always a hard feat—something that you hadn’t quite mastered yet even after all these years of knowing him.

“He’s sneaky. Too much for his own good sometimes,” you spoke, flopping onto Mason’s bed, cup already emptied and discarded somewhere amongst the room.

Jamie only hummed in response as he felt your weight dip the mattress, the force of it nearly forcing him backwards, his left hand going behind him in order to stop himself from crushing you.

From his position, Jamie could see every faint freckle on your face and every birthmark that painted your skin. You were wearing a black baby tee that had two pink magic eight balls positioned as cherries, tied by a ribbon on the very front. The necklace that held your first initial laid in the middle of your chest, moving up and down with each breath you took. The jeans you were wearing hugged your figure perfectly. Your eyelids were gently closed and from time to time, he could see your eyes move underneath the lids. Your hair splayed around your head like a halo, shining in the overhead light. To Jamie, you looked like an angel sent from above—so pretty and kind and captivating. He couldn’t believe he had met you when he did. He felt so blessed to get the privilege to be in your life, in whatever way you deemed appropriate.

“Trevor’s special. In more ways than one,” Jamie chuckled.

His comment made you laugh, your head thrown back against the sheet as your legs lifted up to your chest as they kicked instinctually from laughter.

Your reaction made Jamie smile and blush, blood rushing up his neck to his cheeks, dusting his face a light pink color.

“I’m surprised we’re still friends with him,” you wheezed out. “With all the shit he’s pulled, he should’ve been blocked a long time ago”.

Jamie chuckled and nodded in response.

His heart was beating extremely fast, something it did regularly when Jamie was in your presence. He also had a hard time breathing too, but who wouldn’t?

A comfortable silence had settled between you two. You still laid down on Mason’s bed, eyes delicately closed and breathing steady as you tried not to fall asleep on the comfortable mattress.

The loud chatter of those outside Mason’s bedroom was only an afterthought as the two of you continued to bask in the comfortable silence. The domesticity of it all made Jamie’s heart lurch and his mind race. It wasn’t an entirely domestic scene, but it was enough for him. You are always enough for him.

The man wasn’t going to lie about how he knew about Trevor’s “masterful plan”. He had figured it out quickly after he heard his roommate mumble to himself about how his plan failed after that one party at their shared apartment. Confiding in Georgie only proved Jamie’s suspicions right—the redhead practically spilling every thought and plan Trevor had come up with in an attempt to get the two of you together. Jamie had nearly died at Georgie’s confession. That was the only confirmation he needed to pull up his bootstraps and finally work up the courage to confess to you. And, of course, Jamie knew of Trevor’s idea of throwing you two in a room together in hopes of the two of you getting together.

“(Y/N)?”.

So, here goes nothing.

“Can I tell you something?”.

That question piqued your interest.

You opened your eyes and sat up, faces inches away from Jamie’s face as his eyes never left yours. Your cheeks burned pink from the proximity and you found yourself cursing at your low tolerance for alcohol. Another reason why you much preferred the colorful, fruity drinks many alcohol brand names created. You didn’t need much to feel the effects.

“Yeah. What’s up?” You asked, shifting yourself a bit so all of your weight wasn’t put onto your arms, leaning a little forward.

Jamie’s mouth suddenly went dry, the words caught in his throat as his brain tried to scramble for something—anything to say.

“Should I have not said that about Trev?” You wearily asked, worried he took what you said about his best friend to heart. “Because I didn’t mean that! He’s a cool guy, really! Can be a bit annoying, but I’d never block him. Unless he did, like, something incredibly stupid like—”.

“No.” Jamie simply stated, it coming out more as a croak than a word. He cleared his throat before continuing.

“No. It’s not about that. I honestly agree with everything you said”.

That granted Jamie a smile of yours that he so desperately loved seeing on you. He copied your smile, licking his lips before then.

“It’s just—Damn. I didn’t think it’d be this hard,” he whispered, head slightly shaking as his eyes darted from place to place, nerves tingling throughout his entire body.

“What? That what would be hard, J?” You softly ask, hand coming up to gently grip his bicep in a comforting grasp.

The skin you touched felt like it was on fire to Jamie. Every time you touched him, sparks erupted underneath his skin. It always felt nice. Like it was supposed to happen. Like you were supposed to be touching him.

“I’ve thought day and night about this nearly every day since I met you. Do you remember that? Trev was so excited to introduce you. He was practically buzzing off the walls with excitement,” Jamie begins, his own hand gravitating towards yours that still grasped his bicep, gently wrapping around your wrist.

You giggled at the memory. Trevor had been excited to introduce the two of you. He was dead set on Jamie being the one to rid you of your relationship disappointments. The man had commented many times how his friend and roommate Jamie could be your one. You very much doubted that statement. You had given up at that point. But the second you locked eyes with Jamie Drysdale, all bets went out the window. He was so sweet and so gentle in speaking with you and shaking your hand. You were sure if angels walked the Earth, Jamie was one of them. That night, after leaving the café Trevor brought you to, you had realized that the center hockey player was right about Jamie being the change for you. But you still had doubted that something as kind, as beautiful as Jamie would fall for someone like you.

“Trevor wouldn’t stop talking my ear off about all your little quirks,” you commented. “He told me about your sleep talking and how you always watch the Mighty Ducks series whenever you don’t feel well”.

“Of course he did,” Jamie snorted. “What didn’t he tell you.”

You only smiled in response as you waited for Jamie to continue whatever he was saying beforehand. The butterflies in your stomach swarming and hurriedly batting their wings. You weren’t sure what Jamie was trying to say. You just hoped that he wasn’t going to abruptly end the friendship you two had.

“Trevor had mentioned some things here and there about you. Honestly, I wasn’t sure who I was going to meet that day from how little he mentioned you. He refused to tell me anything and insisted that I actually talk to you to find out more about you. Which, I guess, I should thank him for because then I probably wouldn’t have connected with you the way I did.”.

“It’s forever sketched into my brain—that day. I remember how cold it was that morning and how you walked in with only jeans and a jacket on while I had too many layers on to count. I think my lungs stopped working the minute you walked through the café doors and we locked eyes. I nearly spilled my drink.”.

You both chuckled at that. You had a feeling of where this conversation was going to go and your brain nearly started to overheat from how hard you were thinking and trying not to just blurt out how you felt to him. You never got those long confessions from those you were interested in. And since you were now getting that, you didn’t want to interrupt and ruin the moment. So, you stayed quiet and silently urged Jamie to continue.

“I know it’s cliché to say, but I’m pretty sure I loved you the moment I saw you. Everything about you intrigued me. Everything about you was so enchanting and I couldn’t stop myself from being greedy and wanting to get to know you better. I don’t even think Trevor spoke to us once during the entire three hours we were there. It was hard having to leave and part ways. I wanted to spend more time with you.”.

“I called my Mom later that night and told her everything. She laughed at me and told me that something similar happened to her and my Dad. That I should keep you as close as I could. I’m pretty sure even she could tell that I was already taken aback by you. It was that night that I knew no one else could compare. I mean, it took you, what, five seconds to break me out of my shell and have me talking the entire morning. You were special for some reason and you’re something that I cannot imagine letting go.”.

“So, I guess what I am trying to say is, I think—No. I know that I’m in love with you. And I have been since Trevor uttered your name,” he finished.

Unshed tears gathered in your waterline, threatening to spill over as you took in what the man you had held so close to your heart for so long just confessed.

Jamie too had small tears gather at the corner of his eyes. His heart pounded against his chest as he tried to slow his breathing down. He poured his heart and soul out to you and he only hoped that you matched his feelings back.

“Oh, Jamie,” you whispered, voice full of emotion. “I too have loved you since the moment we met. I think I had a harder time coming to terms with it. I had some rocky relationships in the past that made me feel inadequate for love. For the longest time I thought I was only made for half assed love and the kind of love that made me feel empty when it was over. But, meeting you has changed everything. Meeting you has rewired my brain in so many ways that I can’t begin to tell you the impact you’ve had on me. Just you alone have made me believe all over again. You make love seem not as scary as I thought”.

By the time you reached the end of your sentence, Jamie had tears running down his pale cheeks. He knew of your less than satisfactory relationships and hoped that one day, he could change your mind. He didn’t think he’d actually achieve it as just your friend. He only hoped that he’d be able to do more as your partner.

Silence fell over the two of you again as you both sat there in a warm touchless embrace. Jamie’s hand still gripping yours. Eventually, he moved your hand from his bicep up to his lips, delicately kissing it before placing it on his cheek as he leaned into the soft flesh of your palm.

“I feel like that was really cheesy, no?” He whispered, a giggle falling from his lips.

You could only giggle and nod in response, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

Your eyes met, both wet from the tears shedded. An unspoken question (Can I kiss you?) was asked between the two of you, a simple shake of your heads was the only confirmation you needed before leaning in and pressing your lips together.

Jamie’s lips were so, so soft that it made you want to cry all over again. His cologne was more pungent now that you were lip locked. The smell made you feel dizzy, your closed eyes not helping the slight vertigo sensation you felt. His unoccupied hand went to your cheek to pull you even closer, the need to become one ever so present in the air.

Your other hand went up to his soft locks, desperately tugging at the ends, making Jamie shudder at the feeling. You tried to get closer to the man, but the position the two of you were in was not ideal.

But, before you could pull away and climb into Jamie’s lap, the door to Mason’s bedroom slammed open, scaring the two of you away from each other.

“Holy shit! Yes!” A voice shouted, the owner jumping up and down as they squealed and shrieked in excitement.

“Trevor, what the fuck?!” You screamed, now lying on the bed sideways from the scare you received.

“I did it! I finally did it! You guys kissed! I am the ultimate matchmaker, bitches!” He continued, ignoring the glares he was getting from the two of you.

As Trevor began to dance in celebration in front of Jamie and you, you peeked a look at the man you just kissed only to see him smirking as he gazed at you.

But, the only thing you could do was shake your head and urge yourself forward, locking Jamie into another kiss.

“Ew! Hey, I’m right here! Just because you’re together now does not mean I consent to seeing you two eat each other’s faces,” Trevor exclaimed, a small smile on his face as he teasingly tsked at the two of you.

The only response to his comment was your middle finger as he slipped through the door again, careful to lock the door as to leave the two of you some peace and privacy.

———

( “So, did they do it?” Mason asked, feet propped up against the small table placed in front of his couch.

The Ducks player had originally been against Trevor’s “plan” but had ultimately agreed when he got sick and tired of Jamie moping around like a lost puppy after someone mentioned your name.

The smirk on Trevor’s face said it all.

“Good, hopefully he’ll stop looking like a lovesick fool every time someone mentions her,” he added, sipping his beer. “But you owe me big time, Zegras! I just don’t let anyone use my bedroom for their matchmaking plans”.

Trevor only saluted his teammate, uttering a sir yes sir! before practically skipping his way to Georgie to spill the beans.

Mason shook his head as he watched Trevor go, thinking about how much of a clean day tomorrow will be, headache already forming at the thought. )

[wayfayrr]

By your side from day one <3

finally set aside some time to finish off wilds turn for being self aware, the smartest one who found a way to get out without breaking your tv and getting the glass shards of screen everywhere. I'll be back on requests and such soon though!! <3

[masterlist]

“Come on [name], you can’t be serious about missing out on plans just to talk to someone you don’t even know is real.”

“You say like I would want to go clubbing tonight either way, besides he’s said he’s just been working up the courage to video call.”

“And you trust that?”

They’ve got enough of a conscious to look a bit ashamed when I look at them, I know they’re worried for me but of all the things to be so worked up about this seems harmless. 

“What if I told you that he was messaging me and telling me to stop talking to you.”

“Can you show me the proof.”

“Well… no. he deleted them immediately afterwards.”

Are they just jealous? This is so unlike them that it’s offputting. I know they can get a little worked up when I get close to other people but accusing my online friend - accusing wild - of threatening them? It’s petty and childish. Are they afraid I’ll replace them or something? 

“Okay, alright. This isn’t going to make me cut him off you know?”

“[name]...”

“Reach out when you don’t feel like senselessly trying to cut me off from others. I’ll see you around.”

Hopefully, it’s sooner rather than later, but if they don’t? It’s their own fault they thought they would need to sabotage my other relationships to get closer to me. They even have the audacity to call out after me as I’m leaving, still trying to warn me about him, like they can’t accept I would dare get close to anyone else. Not like it doesn’t feel awful potentially losing a friend like this, but what can I really do?

The trip home seems to pass in a blur, until I’m already collapsed onto my couch with a familiar notif going off on my phone. Opening it proves it is exactly what I expected it to be, a message from him, asking me how my day has gone showing me more care than nearly every other person in my life ever has. Not expecting me to drop everything on a dime for him, even if recently he’s been getting more possessive in his messages like he wants to be serious when I’ve never seen his face. 

- I’ve been decent, met up with a friend. Not much really, you? - 

- Had to do chores for someone I don’t like >:( wanna get away from everything tbh - 

- why not just up and leave? - 

- I mean, it’s not like I haven’t been planning something - 

Seems like the possessive streak has worn off now then, so I don’t have to worry about mentioning friends again. There isn’t even a reason he should be possessive of me though, unless he’s got a secret crush or something. Which I hope he doesn’t, he’s been speaking to me for barely a couple of weeks. 

- You free to call tonight? It’s been a while. - 

- I’m good rn if you are. I’ll just grab my headphones - one sec - 

- :DD perf perf - 

Honestly a call will be nice, I can just zone out for a bit, play some games and chat. It’s the perfect way to destress after everything that happened earlier, I still can’t believe they threw away our friendship over something so small. Maybe I should just block their number and drop them even if they do try and apologise, I don’t really need people like that in my life. 

“So then love, any plans for tonight?”

“I thought you said you were gonna drop calling me that?”

“It’s silly and you didn’t answer my question anyway.”

“Nah not really. I’m just loading up breath of the wild, been a bit since I’ve -”

“Oh shit.”

Has wild been link this whole time, wait - how did he get access to the internet, HOW IS HE SENTIENT?  

He’s just sitting in his hateno house, holding the sheikah slate like a phone and silently, through the switch anyway, talking. The look of horror on his face is gut-wrenching though.

“You - you…”

“Oh - uh - I mean. Come on love it’s not that bad is it? I - I’m not going to hurt you, I swear.”

“I don’t think I want to deal with this right now… I’m sorry I just.”

The look of horror and shame shifted terrifyingly fast when he noticed me moving to turn off the switch, replacing itself with fear and anger before he steeled himself, and presses his hand against the slate’s screen?

…

He - he’s reached through my phone to grab onto my wrist. 

“No, don’t turn me off, I can’t go back to being just a voice. Please”

“How… how are you DOING THIS?”

“That… Isn’t what matters right now.”

His grip feels so nervous, he looks it too - which makes sense, I would probably be petrified if I lost my body just because I was trapped in a game. I can’t turn him off that would be cruel… he deserves better than that. 

It instantly lightened as I moved to sit back down, a sigh of relief echoing through both my tv speakers and my phone, as he let go the second I sat with his hand retreating through my unbroken phone. 

“Okay, you promise you won’t try to turn me off?”

“I won’t if you’ll explain.”

“That - that’s fair, I can do that for you love and - if I told you that I think I’ve figured out a way to get out? Would you let me live with you?”

“So that’s why you were so forward abou- yes you can. When you’ve explained everything. And made it certain you’re not planning to kill me because you’re scared of me sending you back.”

The reverb’s stopped now, which makes talking a lot more pleasant and less like he’s trying to intimidate me now, not that I blame him for it if I was about to condemn him back to that hellscape. I just, I really hope he isn’t trying to get out just to kill me, I don’t think I would ever be able to get over my childhood crush wanting to kill me even if he has every right to want that.

“What- No no I don’t - why - why would you think I would ever want to even hurt you let alone KILL. I - love I. I love you. That’s why I’m doing all of this - I - I.”

He’s crying. I should’ve known that he wouldn’t do anything like that - it’s within his right to - but he’s link, he’s the hero, the protagonist who was stuck to my side through it all. I know I shouldn’t have said that it wasn’t meant to be cruel but it was careless enough to hurt him. 

“I’m sorry, I came on to strong, you - you have every right to be scared of me. I promise though love I - I will never hurt you ever.”

“I know… I just panicked. You can explain now I won’t overreact again I swear. Or if you’d prefer -”

“If I would prefer..?”

“Why not get out first, then explain?”

Lighting up a firework in my face would have been less blinding than his smile in that moment, it’s such a sweet smile - a genuine one too. Meaning that I said the right thing, that I’m doing the right thing by giving him this chance. 

Hopefully, I won’t regret it.

“Really? You’ll let me do that?”

“I think it’s a good idea, it’ll be easier to talk to you as well. Just - how are you going to go this?”

“Um, oh, well uh, I think I could possibly make your switch into a mock version of a warp medallion? Then link my slate to it and just well”

“That makes sense, you can go ahead then, shouldn’t take long right?”

“No, no it won’t.”

A couple of seconds was all the wait it needed for him to stumble out of the blue lights and right onto me, clearly disorientated by the shift into reality. Probably not as bad as any of the 2d links would have struggled to be fair to him. It was an even shorter wait for him to jump onto me and cling even tighter than a koala could ever hope to, nuzzling up against my neck like it’s the only - because - it’s the only real touch he’s ever felt. 

“So you want to explain then?”

“Could we wait? That took much more effort than I thought. I just want to rest a bit if that’s alright.”

“As soon as you’re rested enough to. You going to sleep for a bit then?”

“No I still want to talk, just about something less taxing?”

Seems like he’s more dodging the topic than anything, which is fine I can get him to talk about it later, there really isn’t a rush for anything. It’s fine. Besides he’s like an excited kid that’s staying up way past his bedtime right now, where’s the harm in staying like this for a bit?

“Mind if I ask why you’re so determined to call me ‘love’ then?” 

“Because you’re everything to me, my light, my love, my life - you’ve been with me through everything. From when I woke to killing ganon and you didn’t abandon me there. You’ve shown me your favourite cities, stuck with me when you had the choice to choose others because you said I am you favourite, so really? How could I not love you?”

“You were aware even in Mariokart?” 

His giggle is sweet, he’s so charming right now, especially with how unaware of it he is. It’s so earnest and unfiltered, just so raw, I could go the rest of my life with that being the only thing I ever hear again. Compared to how he acted in cutscenes as well? He’s happy. Tired but happy.

“Oh before I forget, You should be expecting a delivery actually!”

“What.”

“I’ve been wanting to get out of the game for a while so I ordered some things to try make myself more appealing to you.”

“Like what? Link you didn't need to do anything like that.”

He just shrugged, seems like I won’t be getting an answer to that till whatever arrives whenever it does. Seems he really wasn’t lying about being tired though, he’s already starting to fall asleep laying against me like this. Thankfully he’s light enough to move to a more comfortable position, although theres nothing I can do about how tightly he’s holding me and truthfully? There’s nothing I want to do about it.

“Y’know I think I could get used to this.”

“Yo’ will I pr’mise, I’ll make you addicted to m’.”

“Well that isn’t ominous at all… and you’re already asleep.” 

[jimmy-johns5382]

Don’t Fuck with Dad

A platonic Tim! X Reader

T.W. : Mentions of blood and violence, reader is really tired and just needs a break, slender is kinda a bitch tbh, Jeff is a bitch, fighting, kinda angsty? Not proof read :/

Summary : Mission after mission, you’re exhausted. You haven’t had a break in weeks and you’re constantly on the go. When you finally do get a moment of peace, someone ruins it.

You open your eyes, the rising sun visible through your windows. Half asleep, you throw your arm over and slam it down on your phone, the alarm too loud. What time was it? Fuck, what day was it? You let out a loud groan, taking a few deep breaths.

You hadn’t had a break in weeks. The Slenderman giving you missions every night, not to mention the shit load of paperwork that came with it. Most of the missions had been a bitch too, difficult missions that typically took multiple proxies. Normally, you, Kate, and Cody would work as a team, but occasionally it would be changed. Sometimes you were alone, sometimes with only one partner, sometimes two. The missions you had been given recently needed multiple people, and yet here you were, slaving away.

Throwing your legs off the bed, you hissed at the cold floor. Yawning, you began the morning ritual, grabbing a hoodie off the floor and you’re phone, you made your way downstairs for coffee. Glancing at the bright screen, it was Tuesday, July 16th. No mission today, just had to finish up some paperwork. Once you were done, you made a mental plan to take a hot shower, get in the comfiest clothes you could find, and watch a comfort movie. Downstairs, Tim and Brian stood by the island, acknowledging your presence.

“Mornin’ kiddo,” Brian spoke first, “you look rough, Whatcha’ doing up so early?” “I have a shit load of paperwork today,” you groaned, shuffling toward the coffee machine.

“Ohhhhh, day off huh?” Brian smiled. He knew that you had been slammed recently, silently questioning Slender on why he was giving you so much.

“Yeah, finally,” you yawned, sitting at the island with the two. They were here long before you, they knew what it was like to have something every single damn day. It was exhausting, and you were running on such little sleep. Bags heavy under your eyes, you took a sip of the drink and sighed.

“Hey, I’ll catch you later, k? I’ve got to head out, mission two towns over. Gotta’ set up some cameras or something,” Brian said, getting up and waving as he walked away. That left just you and Tim in the kitchen.

For a little while, silence. You and Tim had an understanding, being a proxy sucked and was tiring beyond belief. But Tim had his own opinions, you were just a kid. He knew the kind of missions you had recently been on, violent missions. He knew you had killed a lot recently, and the paper work with it was insane.

“Leave your paperwork in my office, I’ll get it done,” Tim spoke, leaving no room for debate.

You looked to him, confusion ever present, “It’s my work, I can do it ya’ know?”

“I’m well aware kiddo,” and with that, silence. You didn’t ask for this, any of this. The stalking, killing, everything. You didn’t deserve to be dragged into this mess, you were at the wrong place in the wrong time. Tim didn’t know what it was, but he felt a connection to you. He was protective, he wanted the best for you, he wanted you to be happy. But most of all, he was proud of you.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” you mumbled.”

“The back to back for weeks on end is hard. It’s the least I can do for ya’,” Tim took another sip of his coffee. You nodded, getting up and making your way to your room. Passing Eyeless Jack on the way back, you smiled and waved. You and the demon actually got along really well, you spent lots of the little free time you had in the lab, learning from him. Anything from anatomy to some chemicals, you learned a lot of Jack. He waved back at you, offering a visit and teaching session later if you weren’t busy. You gave him a maybe, explaining how busy you’ve been recently. He understood, and then continued on to wherever he was going.

You made it to your room, grabbing the large stacks of paper. You felt awful giving it to Tim, but he didn’t exactly leave much room for debate. You made your way to his and Brian’s office. Walking over to Tim’s desk, the large stacks of paper on his desk ever present. Jeez, you felt terrible giving him all this.

“Just set it down,” it was Brian, standing at the door. He made his way past you and grabbed a file off his desk, “trust me. That guy would do any amount of paper work for you.”

“But he already has so much, I don’t want to just add more on,” you looked to him, a sad look in your eyes. It made his heart melt, you really hated to do this.

“Set them down and get some rest, you need it. And Tim agrees, plus he would much rather you go have fun with EJ or Nina or someone, not sit and do paperwork,” you sat the paper down, looking away from him and to a framed photo t on Tim’s desk. It was you and him, the first mission you two had together.

“Let me tell you,” Brian started, slowly making his way toward the door, “Tim would kill a man for you. He cares about you like your his own kid, so just let him take all this,” and with that, Brian made his way out. You smiled, following him out the door. You wanted to get back to your room, take a nice hot shower, and maybe go hangout with EJ. Turning a hallway, you bumped into someone.

“Hey-! Fucking, watch it!” It was Jeff, of course. Nobody else would be this loud in the morning.

“Fucking move, prick,” you mumbled, shoving your way past him. It’s not that you and Jeff didn’t get along, you just wouldn’t hang out with him at all.

“Excuse me? Want to say that again?!” Jeff’s volume rose as he grabbed you shirt and threw you against the wall.

“You stupid bitch,” glaring at him, you gathered yourself and tried to walk away. It was way too early to deal with his shit.

“Oh hell no, you aren’t fucking walking away-“ Jeff was cut off, a firm hand placed on his shoulder. He whipped around, only to find Tim standing there.

“Fuck you think you’re doing?” Tim asked, voice low.

“This little bitch started it-“ Jeff didn’t get to finish before Tim punched him square in the nose. You stood back in awe, watching the two.

“Better go see Jack, wouldn’t want to get blood everywhere,” Tim shoved Jeff in the direction of the medical lab, giving him a solid middle finger. Jeff grunted and walked off, holding his nose.

“You good?” He turned to you.

“Uhh, yeah.”

“He ever bothers you again, just come find me, ok?”

“Uhh, right, yes sir,” you looked at him, not many words forming. What the hell were you supposed to say? Oh yeah, thanks for breaking Jeff’s nose for me dad.

“Go, shower. You stink,” Tim turned and walked off. You caught a glimpse of a small smirk on his face and you smiled back. “Whatever old man.”

[fillesdesiir]

PLEASE YOUR PRINCE / aemond targaryan

aemond targaryen x maid fem!reader (no appearance described) + mentions of masturbation, slight dubcon.

authors note / ( hi, i havent written for this app in two years! nor have I posted but uhhh im bacK? ig? i still don't really know how to work this app but if any1 wants to be friends, just comment also ty for 400+ followers, I didn't even realize I had that many lol ) © fillesdesiir, all rights reserved. do not copy, translate nor steal my work. @/ -sexpistols on wattpad (fanfics only and where I only post tbh)

Aemond Targaryen was selfish. Never willing to share any of his toys nor did he like the mere concept of doing things without any gain. Perhaps this was rooted in being born with a golden spoon in his mouth, he had been spoiled from the day he was born. Or it could have been when he lost his eye and suddenly the world viewed him as a monster. Maybe the urge to prove himself, better himself, no, be better than those who have wronged him is what created the man he was today.

Nonetheless, whatever creature lurked in the depths of his soul, wants you. You were forbidden, a mere servant for the crown but blessed with the beauty fit for a queen. Watching you bend over and clean his chambers made something inside him churn. The way you’d breathe heavily after long hours of cleaning, your breasts rising up and down with droplets of sweat sliding down the valley of your tits left him needy. He wanted you so badly that his hand was no longer enough to ease the throbbing in his pants. His cock red, swollen, and pulsing with the desire to put itself in you. 

You were driving him to madness. The need to take you from behind as you made his bed, sent him over the edge. This primal urge in him had gotten so bad, he found himself in the company of whores on silks street. Aemond was so desperate to pleasure the lust in him, he’d envision whores as you while he fucked them. It was humiliating. You were making a fool of a prince and you didn’t even know it. Aemond felt as though you were haunting him, with your wicked tongue which he wished to see so badly trailing his cock. 

He had gone on like this for months, rutting against his sheets and anything that could ease himself. Aemond could not take it anymore, he snapped. 

And so, one day as you were doing your routine rounds, Aemond made sure to make his room extra messy. He needed to keep you there as long as he could. Aemond was on a mission to expel this entity (you) from his mind. He could no longer be haunted by the mere idea of you. 

When you arrived at his chambers, your jaw fell agape at the state of the room. It was in ruins, papers thrown across the ground, books displaced, his bedding thrown to the ground as well as spills upon spills of wine. Aemond smiled to himself as he watched you walk in slowly with a bucket and mop in hand. He clicked his tongue before speaking, a grin present on his lips. 

“Is something wrong?” He asked you mockingly. Your eyebrows furrowed and your lips pursed. 

“Of course not, my prince,” You muttered in response with deep breaths and a rapid shake of your head. 

“I know it is quite a mess. And I’m sure you’ve had a long day, haven’t you?” Aemond teased as he watched you grimace at the mess. You nodded, unsure whether you were allowed to engage with him in such a manner. 

Suddenly, as you began to clean his mess of a room, an idea struck him. 

“Ah, I feel terrible making you clean this all up. Alas it is your job but, I wonder, perhaps,” he paused, “Perhaps you could complete your daily task another way,” Aemond spoke hesitantly, eager to see your response. 

“What is it you mean?” You questioned his idea, curiosity eating at you. The prince had never even spoken to you this long and so his words enticed you. 

Aemond stalked toward you, his chest barely brushing against your own. 

“It is your duty to help me. Please me, is it not?” Aemond whispered against your ear, his slender hand caressing your cheek. Your cheeks flushed and Aemond immediately picked up on the deepening of your breaths. He towered over you and so he had a clear view of your tits, rising up and down slowly, heavily. 

“Get on your knees,” Aemond commanded. A moment of silence passed by, a simple stare-off between the two of you before you shakingly got on the ground. Aemond smiled, proud of your display of obedience. “Now take my cock out,” he ordered with a slow run through the top of your hair. A small gasp escaped from your lips. You were taken aback by his words but as you stared up at him, you found yourself unable to say no.

 Slowly, you unbuttoned his pants which were a lavish leather. Your hands were shaking as you slipped them down right below his arse along with his undergarment. Small breaths left you as Aemond’s cock rested before you. It was long, thick with veins entwined into it. But what truly caught you by surprise was how hard it was. The tip of his cock was flushed red and the entirety of it was pulsating. 

“Now suck. Perform your duties and please your prince,” Aemond whispered sensually. With a nervous gulp, you gripped his cock in your hand. Aemond hissed in as you touched him, the lust coursing through him had left him painfully hard. You stared up at him, looking deeply into his eyes before taking your tongue and licking his cock from top to bottom. When you reached the tip, you swirled your tongue around the swollen flesh before hollowing out your cheeks and taking him whole. Aemond’s head tipped back in ecstasy as you gave him what felt like the best head of his life. 

You sucked him off uneasily at first, nervous about his reaction but slowly you eased into it. Your head bobbed up and down on his cock rapidly causing Aemond to grip the back of your head for support. He grunted loudly from above you, lost in the pleasure of your warm mouth as you took him. His mouth was agape, sharp breaths leaving him continuously. Aemond pushed you down onto his cock deeply with his hand, gripping and pulling at your hair. Salvia dripped from the sides of your mouth as you gagged on his cock, taking him in over and over.

The scene taking place was so erotic, terribly filthy, and forbidden but nevertheless, your thighs were squeezing themselves together. You could feel your own arousal dripping from your cunt, leaving a small puddle on the ground. Aemond moaned and grunted as he began to fuck your mouth. His thrusts were quick, desperate, and filled with need. You had been haunting him for so long with the little moans of stress you’d let out as you’d clean a too-high-up place. With the way your dress would ride up as you bent over to clean his chambers, revealing your thighs. The way sweat would trail down the valley of your tits after a long day's work. You were a parasite that he wanted to be rid of. 

But even now, as he thrusted inside of your mouth, taking pleasure in the sounds of your gags. All he could think about was when he’d get the chance to do something like this again with you. He wanted so badly to hear you moan into his cock, as you were doing so now, every day. Aemond had to have your wicked tongue run its warmth against his cock for eternity. 

He needed you. Craved you. And as his spend filled your mouth, Aemond realized something then. His plan had not worked, you were still haunting him.

[tarot-archives]

Can I get a uhhhhhh laios with a guy/gn reader who has an equally autistic special interest in general biology and ecosystems that would 100% encompass monsters as well? Asking for a friend that just happens to be me (stg idk if I wanna smooch laios or be him tbh lmao)

an: though i haven’t written for an autistic yn, i’ll try to make it realistic. if i’d done something wrong, please tell me. i focused more on general dungeon ecology for y/n.

if marcille is studying about dungeon ecosystems while laios is more interested in monsters you would be the best of both worlds.

there’s just something thrilling about dungeon ecology, how it all interacts, every thing that fall under it and so on and so forth.

you’re a tall-man researcher, using every bit of your time to find out more about dungeons, and not just the ones in melini. it would have been good to join the magic academy, but since you don’t posses any talent for magic, you can’t enter.

it made you sad since they had a dungeon making class.

nevertheless, it won’t stomp your dreams of researching! you’ve read and copied countless of books you can get your hands on. eventually you settled in meleni where a newly discovered dungeon was found.

your room was filled with countless of journals, trinkets from dungeons and volumes of books you read many time before.

and on your first dungeon party, you were very ecstatic. too bad you had to leave because they’d only go to the easier upper floors. you wanted to head to the lowest level after all!

and that’s where you meet up with the touden party!

you will love marcille’s vast dungeon knowledge. she would love to teach you new things. much to chilchuck’s dismay, you have boosted her ego. endless praises for marcille and simply doting around her because she’s filled with knowledge.

“ah, long lifespans are so great. i’d spend all my life dedicating to dungeon ecology if i could” -y/n after every lecture apparently.

then monster facts with laios will be endless. he lent you his dungeon food guide and you surprisingly have a copy too! you took notes from the things he had written in the margin. much to chilchuck’s demise (again) both you and laios keep on talking and he can’t sleep :((

“eating monsters? can’t say i have thought about it, but do you ever think about their nutritional values? the high level of mana concentration must vary from non-dungeon born same species! This needed to be compared and studied!” -y/n when laios introduced his monster eating thoughts.

toshiro will have another person to ask about his life in the east. but he likes how you keep more time to yourself writing in the journals. he finds your drawing to be artistic. after seeing your difficulties with papers, toshiro will teach you about yotsume toji—a book binding process from his country. he’s happy to see you using it after he taught you.

though you won’t talk with namari much, you admire he strength as a dwarf. she keeps her past to herself, which you at least respect. but you’d talk about the different weapons used and other things she did as a blacksmith. her knowledge on materials is very handy. you write about the different dungeon materials on your journal along with the best weapons against monsters.

chilchuck, our lock expert, and the most unknown member of your party… you admire his knowledge on traps and have written about his experiences with various dungeon traps and ways of disarming them.

falin, she joins you as you ask questions to marcille or laios. she listens to you talk about your dungeon experiences and she tells you about her’s. you let her read the journals you made along the way.

On the day falin was eaten by the dragon, your journal wasn’t transported with you. So now, you join laios to rescue his sister and to save you journals!!

Request? Open!

[loneliestluvr]

𝑻𝒐 𝑴𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝑰 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑮𝒐, 𝒊.

i. ii.

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron OC

Synopsis: Caught up in a world of hollow grief for her people, her life, and her father, Blair Archeron is forced into a life under the light she wants no part of after ghosting through immortality since being Made. But what she finds, is not what she expects.

Warning: depression, worthlessness, cauldron trauma, angst, that’s kinda it for now tbh.

Word Count: 1.9k

taryn thinks: ive been thinking about eris vanserra for a long time and reading lost bonds by @readychilledwine about tamlin kind of gave me some inspo and motivation i haven’t had in a while to write this. also ttpd because ive been down in the dumps and feeling angsty so… enjoy!! 🫶🏼 i apologize if it’s a bit scrambled lol, i just wanted to write it out.

The fabric Nuala and Cerridwen had dressed her in erased any and all traces of the truth. The destitute it had felt her life became since this newfound immortality ripped everything Blair Archeron had ever known away from her, tucked away. Hidden behind the gauzy chiffon.

There had been small pockets of awareness, of feeling like she had control over herself lately. Where she didn’t rot away in bed, or a chaise— alone and wrapped in the quiet of her mind. Staring into open space, ghosting through whatever this life was.

Those times were hard to come by, and even when the war against Hybern was raging it was decided Blair would stay safe in Velaris. Where she had always remained. Where she did not leave, until today.

It was a pointed argument among their small circle that this life was no better than what Feyre had been through with Tamlin, but Blair did not fight it. Simply… existed inside of it.

It wasn’t that nobody tried to help, they did. They asked questions, gave the second eldest sister every chance to open up. To get out, to experience this new world. To talk.

Elain would argue even when she did, it was mere hollows of the person Blair had been who responded. The echoes that remembered how to speak, that walked so smoothly and carelessly that she seemed to float on a hot wind.

Blair was not fearless, she was not cunning, she was not soft, nor was she anything that her sisters were. She was simply… other.

And maybe that was the furthest thing from simple, that there were no words to describe the ethereal beauty of her hollowness. Maybe there never would be.

Blair didn’t seem to mind, and she got away with it.

Content was the feeling that seemed the most appropriate to describe the life she lead now. Moved into her youngest sisters River Home, with a large room at the end of the house overlooking the winding waters. The gardens Elain had crafted and tended when she wasn’t at the townhouse sat below, the large expanse of the land out to the river in full view. The snow capped mountains that danced across the skyline, one’s she sometimes watched Feyre paint in front of from her window day after day, month after month.

She supposed she had it coming when Nesta was forced to the House of Wind. When her older sister by a mere year had pointed out that Blair had amounted to nothing in the time Nesta had been taken hostage inside that House on the side of the mountain. When Nesta had been expected to work and be something, Blair had still remained as useless as before.

“She is adjusting,” Feyre had argued on Blair’s behalf. Blair had been the kindest of their sisters to Feyre when they were in that cabin, poor and broken and nothing. Who had helped with no qualms, who had genuinely cared for them all— even their seemingly worthless father. “—she did not ask for this, the same as you. At least she is not drinking herself to death.” The smartest of them, as Feyre had described to Rhys’ Inner Circle before those meetings in the mortal realm, others would have thought the same if they knew her before.

Before she became this… thing.

“You let her wither away, sitting about in her sadness and grief and her muteness. I would think she had forgotten how to speak if it weren’t for the utterly mundane responses she gives.” Nesta had barked back at their little sister while Blair sat by the window, unmoving. Her face a mask of cool indifference like she wasn’t quite hearing anyway. “How is what she’s doing any different than what I have? Because she isn’t spending your money? Because she hasn’t tainted Rhysand’s precious Court image?”

She didn’t care how they spoke of her, didn’t care to defend herself from Nesta’s forked tongue— it took more energy than she had to argue. Blair could have washed away right into the water that rushed through the river she stared into for all she cared.

Everything had just gone so… wrong from that point. As if Nesta’s breaking point was seeing her first baby sister be so broken and discarded, she had ripped into a secret nobody had even bothered to tell Feyre or Blair— that Feyre’s babe would kill her.

The rest had been a blur like usual after and here they were, dressed and gowned in the finest clothes they had. In the short time since finding out about Feyre’s deadly predicament, everyone seemingly had agreed with Nesta about Blair’s lack of presence in their court… or any at all.

The only people who knew she existed were those that were present when she was forced into the bitterly cold water of the cauldron. When it had felt as though she drowned, that she had died there and something else had filled her body. Felt as though she could only see herself from outside of her body, outside of whatever she had became.

Blair Archeron would be making her debut to the Court of Nightmares in the same fashion Feyre would be revealing her pregnancy. She didn’t know much else, didn’t care for the details or even why Nesta had been training in dances they both knew since childhood. Just what she was to wear and to come when called.

To admit the dress she was now wearing wasn’t utterly beautiful would be a disgrace in itself, and she looked stunning.

Despite her pointed ears being viewable, Blair’s long and heavy gold-brown hair had been curled gorgeously, cascading down her freckled and fair bare back to cover where her dress did not. Kissing and tickling the skin when she moved her head, half of her hair pulled back from her face into loose twirls and braids.

Her face painted in light cosmetics that she didn’t need. It was no secret that her beauty came first out of the four sisters, even before dear Elain’s— skin freckled, dark lashes and brows, cheeks usually tinted pink naturally. But her eyes, her eyes were the rarest of her sisters and what made her so profoundly different.

A base of that gray-blue that grew more vibrant as it met her pupil. But the flecks of nearly golden amber splattered like an artist had flicked their wrist in a rush is what made them so different.

Why the black of her dress fit her so much better than it did poor Elain, her second youngest sister nearly washed out by the bleak darkness she had been presented to wear.

The dress clinging to Blair’s torso was bedecked in gold sparkling beads that formed lines of detail along the bodice and the hem by her feet, the fabric black beneath it. Hugging tight to her figure. Eating and drinking had gotten easier after the war and had allowed her to fill out again.

Her full breasts wrapped tight to her chest where they sat prettily, the dips in her hips and waist outlined by the sheer sleeves that flared well past her hands, capped around her shoulders but left her back utterly bare despite the illusion of the chiffon looking like a cape.

The dress hung from her body as she waited almost carelessly to enter the throne room of Hewn City, and Blair felt a little like she might die.

The air here, anywhere, was so much colder than the sweltering heat of her bedroom where she kept the fire roiling day and night— where she felt like she was at home even if it was just in her head. Sleeping on the floor in front of it most nights, where the crackling of the fire could drown out the sound of her thoughts. Where the warmth could make her feel something other than empty.

Now. Feyre’s voice rang warmly in Blair’s head, echoing outside of the thick walls of forest she’d been taught to put up. Spruce and oak, winding paths lined with red poppy’s and orange geraniums, fogged over meadows to traipse through at will. A maze for anyone else, with no beginning and no end.

The rest of them had gone in a half hour ago it seemed, Blair to be used if they needed to pull a distraction or anything. She would be introduced no matter what, but timing was to be used as an advantage.

The towering doors to the throne room boomed open as Blair turned the corner to the hallway, the curls in her hair bouncing with every step despite the light wind billowing through her flowing sleeves as if she were gliding.

The music continued as she kept her head high and entered the space, hands folded neatly in front of her. A small upward twitch of her pretty red lips, her face calm and still.

Still as the room became when her feet hit the marble across that threshold.

She walked, one foot in front of the other. Head in a full fog before she even entered the throne room— but there was a tug. Something that had almost made her stumble, but she sucked in a tight breath as she focused on the dais ahead.

Pulling, tugging, a line going taut the closer she became and her vision cleared. Someone that had been in deep discussion before Blair entered, someone now turned to face her as everyone else did.

All but the Court of Dreamers gaping at her, at her beauty. So much different than her obvious sisters, a third sister to the High Lady of the Night Court, but so much the same that it was easily distinguishable. Gasps and whispers filling Blair’s now clear ears, but she didn’t look anywhere but the male in front of Rhys and Feyre— as much as she wanted to. As much as she pleaded with herself to look away, she could not.

The bright auburn hair, the pale and freckled skin of his handsome face. All fae were gorgeous, she’d been told and equally come to learn but… just the very look of him made her skin heat.

A look of something similar washed through his amber eyes, the matching amber to the flecks in her own, his throat bobbing.

Something like devastation went through this male and though Blair couldn’t tear her eyes from his as she finally made those last steps to the dais, she could see Rhys’ mask slip ever so slightly from the corner of her eye before it went back up.

There was a part of her, so enamored by whoever this person was— and something about him made her slip back into consciousness. That outside look at herself faded back into her own body and she didn’t realize until she breathed again that her heart had been beating so rapidly.

Or that she hadn’t addressed her High Lord and Lady.

Or that they’d demanded the crowd go back to dancing and drinking and eating.

Or that all she did was face this male, a look of shocked confusion painting her usually dull expression because somehow, someway, she felt like she knew him.

And that the tug she felt, that line, went utterly taut before him.

🏷️: @thehighladywrites and anyone else that wants to be added to a tag list for this or anything else lmk lmfao

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Linger

Sirius Black x rockstar! f!reader

warnings: smut, p in v, rough sex, like pretty rough guys he bites you till you bleed, underage drinking, underage smoking, a lot of smoking tbh, drunkish sex, kinda has a plot so yeah lmk if i missed anything

summary: you and your band mates decide to go out to a pub, where you end up meeting the most handsome boy you’ve ever seen.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: guys i’m so bad at these summaries holy. this is probably my favorite fic i’ve written. the flirting and the tension like omg. trust me. also, let’s pretend The Runaways are british and let’s pretend everything id accurate hahaha. enjoy ;)

~~~

“Do you think we’ll be recognized tonight?”

You turn to your bandmate, Joan, and shrug. “It’s fifty-fifty.”

“What pub are we going to again?” She asks.

“The one where they let underage people in, of course, you’re still the only one who’s twenty-one in the band you know,” you reply.

The other two members of your band, Sandy and Lita, are ahead of you, engulfed in their own conversation. You slide your hands into the pockets of your jacket and try to keep up. You’ve been in the band for a few months as the new lead singer. Their old one left to start her own band, claiming it to be more successful. Yet your band is the one that’s gotten sold-out shows, interviews on television, and pictures in magazines. Sometimes you like to think it was fate that she left, and you just so happened to be in town the night they were holding auditions. The fans surely enjoy your voice more, they make you out to be the leader even though you’re only seventeen and the newest member. You don’t mind though, and neither do your bandmates.

It’s almost ten when you arrive at the pub and thankfully no one has recognized you yet, or they have and simply haven’t said anything. There’s no one at the door to check IDs just like Sandy had said. The four of you enter fast and find a table. The music is loud, the lights are low, and people are dancing all over. You like it, a lot.

“Drinks?” Lita questions a few seconds after you sit.

“You know it!” Joan replies.

“I’ll be right back then.”

Sandy takes out a pack of cigarettes. “Care for one?”

“Obviously,” you answer, holding your hand out. She hands you one, you’re quick to light it and stick it between your lips, inhaling a deep breath of smoke. “How come the police haven’t found this place?”

Joan rolls her eyes. “They have.”

“And? Why don’t they shut it down?”

“They have people who come here, of course, sons, daughters, you know that sort of thing. It may be illegal but it’s trustworthy,” she explains. “Why do you care anyway?”

You shrug. “Just curious I suppose.”

Lita arrives back at the table, four glasses held in her arms. You take yours fast, eager to taste whatever liquor she got for you. It’s bitter, with a hint of sweetness in it. Based on the color as well, your guess is some sort of vodka mix. You drink it despite the awful aftertaste it leaves in your mouth. The cigarette between your fingers helps a bit. The four of you talk for a while and enjoy the peace of having no fans around.

“You should go to the bar y/n,” Lita says after some time. “Or well it might be too late now, but when I was there, I saw a boy your age, remarkably handsome.”

Sandy laughs. “You’re trying to send her home with someone already?”

Lita nudges the other girl with her shoulder. “No, I’m only trying to get some new song material.”

“We’ll see if there’s any potential,” you say, taking the last sip of your drink and getting up. You brush down your hair. “Do I look alright?”

“You’re always beautiful,” Joan answers, letting out a cloud of smoke.

“Wish me luck.” You chuckle before heading to the bar.

With every step you take, you feel eyes on you. Most belong to older men who shouldn’t even be paying you any mind. You’re used to the feeling of being watched, with all the fans and paparazzi that corner you before and after gigs. So, you move through the pub without a second thought about it.

In the back of your head, you curse yourself for not asking Lita what the guy looks like. For a moment you question how you’re supposed to find him, but then your curious eyes find one guy who stands out. He’s leaning on the wall, a glass in his hand and a cigarette between his lips. Based on his face, you figure he can’t be more than nineteen. And oh, how right Lita was. His hair is dark and long, almost reaching his shoulders. He’s dressed in a simple white tee shirt and baggy jeans. Despite the distance, you swear you can make out a sliver of a tattoo on his shoulder. He’s gorgeous, almost too gorgeous.

You approach him carefully, thinking of different opening lines in your head. Would it be wrong to use your fame to get him to take you home? Probably. But you’ve seen Joan do it plenty of times. She always says it’s simply a tool and that you should use it to your advantage. You’ve never done it though. Perhaps it’s your little amount of consciousness that remains that tells you it’s wrong. You don’t know and the alcohol in your system doesn’t help. So, when you reach him, you say the first thing that comes to mind.

“Hi.”

He looks at you, the cigarette dangling between his lips. “Hello.”

“How old are you?” You ask, immediately feeling stupid for such a question.

“What are you a cop?” He chuckles.

You feel your cheeks heat up. “No uh... sorry.”

“It’s fine love, just not a very good pick-up line,” he replies. He takes his cigarette out, his eyes locked on yours. “Especially since you look like you’re sixteen.”

“Seventeen actually.” You correct him.

“Ah, well there’s something we share then.”

Something about the way he’s looking at you comforts you. There’s no recognition in his eyes at all. You can tell. To him, you are just another girl. Not the lead singer of The Runaways. Just a simple girl.

“You can try again if you’d like,” he says. You look at him, confused. “Try another pick-up line.”

You gently smile and think for a few seconds. Nothing better comes to mind.

“Come here often?”

He laughs. “Somehow I think that was worse than the first one.”

“Sorry. Usually, I’m better at this sort of thing,” you reply. You put your hands back in your pockets, suddenly feeling very hot with embarrassment.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s cute.”

There’s a moment of silence. He takes a sip of his drink; you stare at his hand. The way it looks wrapped around the glass makes your stomach fill with butterflies. You hate how much you want him to take you home. You don’t even know his name. But he’s handsome, so much so it makes you unable to think straight. You need to know more.

“Are you from around here?”

He nods. “Born and raised in London. You?”

For a split second you wonder, if he’s from London how come he doesn’t know who you are? Sure, your band isn’t on the same level of success as Queen or ACDC but you’re also not underground. You push the thought away.

“Originally from Westchester but now I’m here in London for... work,” you answer.

“Work? I thought you were seventeen.”

“Yes but, eighteen next month. I already finished school.”

He takes another drag of his cigarette. “Wish I could say the same, I still have another year left. Though, I rather enjoy school, gets me away from my dear parents.”

“Oh, where do you go?”

You notice the way he shifts his posture. “Out of the country, you wouldn’t know of it.”

“Like a boarding school?”

“I suppose you could say that.”

You look around the pub, a slight feeling of awkwardness blooming within you. You don’t know why you’re so nervous. You’ve done this before. You decide to blame it on the cheap vodka because really, you’re better than this.

“So, what’s your name then?” You ask after a few more minutes.

“Does it really matter?” He replies, catching you a bit off guard. He flicks the ash off his cigarette, his dark eyes on yours. “All of it’s the same.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Don’t play dumb love, I know this isn’t your first time. I’m sure you’ve chatted up many other lads and had them take you home.” There’s something about the tone in which he speaks that has your knees almost wobble.

“Why would you think that?”

He sighs, leaning over to a small table discards his cigarette in an ashtray, and leaves his glass. When he leans back on the wall, now with both of his hands-free, he buries them in the pockets of his baggy jeans. He looks down at you with an expression that could send your morals far out of mind. You want him, terribly. And you think he knows this.

“Besides the fact that you said you’re usually better at this, you’re also possibly the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he eventually answers.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “I highly doubt that, but nevertheless thanks for the compliment.”

“I mean it. Most girls I see still wear those long skirts and sweaters, but you, you’re dressed like you could pass as a rock star.”

Your face heats up once again. You know he’s right. With your leather jacket, flared jeans, high-heeled boots, and small tight top you know it’s clear what kind of person you are. Your makeup only adds to it, black smudged eyeliner and glitter on your eyes. It’s a toned-down version of what you wear on stage. He doesn’t need to know that though.

You give him a smile and shrug. “Rock is my favorite genre, what can I say? You sort of got that look too though, not quite as intense.”

“Not a gentleman?” He chuckles.

“No.” You laugh, shaking your head. “At least I hope not.”

“I see. You don’t fancy the good boys. Well fortunately for you, I’m a bit of a troublemaker. At least, that’s what my schoolmates and family say,” he mentions. “What’s wrong with the good boys anyway? They could treat you like a lady.”

“Too gentle, I’m not a fan of it,” you answer honestly.

He smirks, sending warmth straight to your core. “So is your intention to get me out of here and treat you... not gently?”

“My intention is simply to buy you another drink, maybe enjoy a dance or two. What happens at the end of the night is not particularly on my mind right now. I’m more focused on learning your name. Why? Is that what you’d fancy?” You counter, looking up at him through your long lashes.

It has the effect you hoped for because he stands up straight, his back finally off the wall. He offers his hand to you, and you take it softly in yours. It’s so much bigger, so much warmer. You try your hardest to kill all the thoughts of where else you’d like him to touch you with his hand.

“Sirius Black,” he introduces himself.

“Like the star?” You question without thinking.

“Yes, like the star. Now what’s your name.”

“Y/n y/l/n,” you say.

“Charmed. So, how about that drink?”

You smile. It’s going to be a good night, you know it.

The next few hours go by in a flash. You and Sirius drink more than you probably should and dance to the many different songs that play on the jut box. A few different times throughout the night you find the eyes of your bandmates, each of them giving you big smiles and thumbs up as they watch you with Sirius. At one point Joan makes a lewd hand gesture, and you barely get a chance to see Lita smack her. It’s past twelve when you find yourself outside the pub with Sirius sitting on a curb sharing a cigarette.

“I hate these bloody shoes,” you mumble as you dig your heel into the pavement. “They make my feet sore.”

“Then why do you wear them?” Sirius asks, amusement evident in his tone.

You exhale a long breath of smoke, passing the half-burnt cigarette back to him. “I dunno. Beauty is pain.”

“For some, but I’m sure even without those things you’re just as pretty. Actually, I would bet pounds on that being true,” he replies.

“I think I’m rather plain without all this. Would you think the same of me without my makeup and outfit?”

You watch him smirk. “I should think you look even prettier without all of that on. Especially the clothes.”

Your stomach fills with butterflies for the thousandth time tonight. Your shyness left hours ago when you took your first shot. So, instead of simply blushing and looking away, you stand and look down at him with your own smirk.

“Quite the charmer. How about you find come back to mine and find out for yourself?”

He takes one last drag of the cigarette before standing, flicking it to the pavement, and crushing it beneath his sneaker. You watch helplessly as he releases a cloud of smoke, his hand now held out to you.

“I’d quite like that. Lead the way.”

~~~

You don’t know how you keep your composure the whole way home, especially with Sirius’s hand handing yours the entire time. On the train, as you sit, your head on his shoulder, he rubs his thumb across your knuckles. It’s a gesture that makes you glad you aren’t standing because your legs feel like jelly. And on the walk up to your apartment, he lets go of your hand and instead places it on the small of your back. You almost fall down the stairs at the contact.

Once you’re inside you immediately take off your boots, leaving them somewhere by the front door. Your jacket follows, only it’s hung on one of your kitchen chairs. When you turn to look at Sirius you find his eyes wandering all over your apartment, examining the details you assume. His sneakers are off, his hands are in his pockets.

“You must have a special job, this place is wonderful,” he says.

“My mates help me with the money, it’s not all mine,” you reply. It’s true, they do help you earn money from performing. You step closer to him, your hands behind your back. “And it’s really not that big. One bedroom, one bathroom, and one very tiny living room combined with the kitchen. But it’s more than enough for me. Would you like the tour?”

“Of course, if the tour starts in your bedroom.”

You can’t help the blush that takes over your face. “Follow me.”

The walk is fast, with every step you feel your heart rate increase. You’ve done this a few times, but for some reason, this time feels different. Perhaps it’s because all the other guys can’t compare to Sirius’s beauty in the slightest. Or perhaps it’s because you already like him a bit more than you should for a one-nighter. You don’t know. And you don’t care to know because you’re about to reach your door.

You open the door fast, letting him in first, and closing it behind you. It’s dark, the only lights coming from outside your small window. You don’t reach for the lights though. Instead, you step closer to the boy, the sound of your breathing suddenly far too loud for your liking. His silhouette moves closer to you as well. It’s almost like there’s an invisible force pushing the two of you together, and you find yourself liking it.

He touches you first. One of his hands finds your waist, he guides you to him faster. Soon enough, you’re practically pressed against him. You can barely breathe from the proximity. You’ve never felt something this intense. You look up at him, your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Still want me to not be gentle?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I want you to ruin me,” you say, pressing one of your hands to his chest. You’re happy to find his heart is racing just like yours. “Don’t hold back.”

“Alright.”

Before you can even think of another thought, his lips are on yours. You kiss back instantaneously, your hand moving up into his hair. It’s soft, like you expected. He’s far from gentle with his kissing, and you’re glad. His lips move fast on yours, his teeth scraping your tongue. He bites down on your lip so hard you whimper, and the metallic taste of your blood clouds your senses.

Still, despite the pain, when he pulls back you almost whine from the loss of contact. But his hands move fast to pull your shirt up. You help him get it off, then move to his. Through the darkness, you can see the few tattoos he has on his chest and shoulder. They’re dark, they’re beautiful. You run your fingertips over them as he leans back down and connects your lips once again. You begin to guide the two of you towards your bed.

When the back of your knees hit the mattress, you allow yourself to fall back onto it. Sirius doesn’t follow you though. Instead, he stands between your legs at the foot of the bed and begins to undo the buttons of your jeans. You watch in awe, lifting your hips to help him drag them down your legs, leaving you only in your bra and panties. You sit up, your eyes on him, as you start undoing his belt.

After his jeans are on the floor he pushes you back down on the mattress, climbing over you this time. You kiss him deeply, dragging one of your hands down his warm back, and weaving the other through his hair. That warmth deep inside you has grown, consuming you entirely. You can feel the wetness between your legs, surely staining your panties. You’ve never been so turned on by a guy in your life.

He suddenly parts your kiss, his lips beginning to move down your jaw and neck. You moan, throwing your head back to give him more access. When he bites down on you, so hard you can feel a stinging from it breaking skin, you pull at his hair, sounds of pleasure escaping your swollen lips.

Eventually, after leaving many hickeys and bite marks on your neck, he pulls back entirely and flips you over onto your stomach. You smirk against the mattress as you feel him unclip your bra. To help get it off, you lift yourself on your hands, and the straps quickly fall. You throw it off without even thinking about it. You’re about to turn back but Sirius presses a hand between your shoulder blades, silently telling you to stay as you are. You don’t hesitate to comply.

You feel him move and instinctively you lift your hips in the air. He places a kiss on your back, it almost makes you shiver. Then his hands are on your hips, pulling your last piece of clothing off. You normally would feel some sense of vulnerability at this point. Completely naked with your ass in the air. But the alcohol mixed with the utter need you have for Sirius takes control. You feel him shift.

“Do you have a rubber?” The sound of his voice makes you squeeze your legs together.

“Unless you have a disease, you don’t need one. I’m on birth control,” you answer, looking over your shoulder at him.

“No diseases I swear,” he says.

“Then proceed.”

You get up properly on all fours, the anticipation killing you. When he positions his tip at your entrance, you inhale sharply. He rubs his cock through your wet folds for a few seconds, brushing against your clit ever so slightly, before thrusting inside you in one quick, hard motion. You can’t help the moan that leaves you. He’s big, stretching you in a way that’s on the brink of being painful. It’s perfect.

He fucks you hard, very hard. Each thrust hits that spot inside you that makes your legs shake. At one point, your arms give out and your face presses against the mattress. Your hands twist in the sheets, your moans muffled by the bed. Sirius doesn’t like this. He twists one of his hands in your hair and pulls you up, the pain only adding to the building of your orgasm.

“Sirius,” you gasp. “Fuck Sirius.”

He’s relentless. He fucks you through your first orgasm, not faltering for even a second. He only stops when you can’t hold yourself up anymore, pulling out and flipping you onto your back. You scratch your nails down his back as he begins to fuck you in missionary, your lips on his.

You don’t know how long passes by the time he tells you he’s close. What you do know is that your second orgasm is not far either. With tears in your eyes, you let him switch positions once again, this time you’re on top of him. Your muscles are weak and sore, but that doesn’t stop you from riding him as well as you can. Sweat covers your body, and incoherent words drip off your lips. You can barely take it anymore.

“I-I’m almost there,” you mumble.

“Me too love,” Sirius replies, his breath ragged. “Finish us both off.”

You struggle to hold yourself up, a tear rolling down your cheek. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can, just a few more minutes,” he assures you, running one of his hands through your hair.

Much to his word, in a few minutes, he finishes. Hard. He moans your name in an indescribable tone, and his cock pulses inside you so intently, it causes your second orgasm to occur. As this happens, you lie on his chest, both of your breathing very uneven. He holds you tight against him.

Eventually, you roll off him and stare at your ceiling. You try to comprehend what just happened. Never in your life have you experienced something so intense. Most of the time when you told guys to be rough with you, they’d be turned off. But Sirius... You turn to your side to face him.

“Want a smoke?”

“Certainly.”

~~~

It’s safe to say, you don’t let him go all summer. You spend every second you can with him. Most of the time in your sheets, but a good amount doing other things. You paint his nails black, teach him how to wear eyeliner, and how to dress more like yourself. You enjoy every second you get with him.

He never does discover your fame, at least he never says so. You think he would know. Each time you go out you try your hardest to be unnoticeable and you always hide away magazines and switch the channel whenever something about your band is shown. But he never does say anything. Sometimes at night, you sing to him softly and you always laugh when he tells you that you should take it professionally.

You learn how much he hates his family, except for his little brother. You learn he loves Queen and David Bowie. You learn his favorite color is ironically black. You learn as much about him as you can and with each fact you do learn, you only fall more for him. But you never speak of it. You know the inevitable ending.

On the night before he goes back to school, the two of you lay in your bed, a thick silence between you. As usual, you pass a cigarette back and forth. Only this time, there are no words accompanying. Until he speaks.

“For once, I’m not looking forward to going back.”

You turn to your stomach and look at him. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“Me either,” he agrees. He holds the cigarette to you; you take it fast. “I can phone you if you want. You know, while I’m there. Or send letters.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” You question.

“I think I really fancy you, and I don’t want to leave on a bad note.”

You give him a weak smile and press a kiss on his bare shoulder. “Oh, Sirius.”

~~~

A few months later...

“Five minutes till show time,” an assistant tells you.

You’re sitting in your dressing room backstage. Joan, Sandy, and Lita all have their own space now. You find it funny how much The Runaways have blown up since the summer. Now, everywhere you turn you see yourself in a magazine or a news article. You can’t go anywhere without being recognized, or without the paparazzi showing up.

As you look in the mirror your mind travels back to Sirius. This happens a lot. Right before a concert, you think of him. Sometimes you wonder if maybe he’s out there listening. You haven’t heard from him since he went to school. You aren’t angry, only a bit sad. You’re mostly grateful though. He inspired most of the songs in your number-one album that got the band all the new attention.

You stand from the vanity and sigh. Tonight, your performance is being televised worldwide. Beside the door is your guitar, you pick it up as you begin your journey out to the stage. You’ve got a good lineup, even a small intermission for a happy birthday song. You hope wherever he is he hears it.

After all, it is November 3rd.

[certifiedsexed]

Hi,

I think I’ve experienced CoSA but when I first opened up about it to my then psychologist, she said what happened to me is a normal part of childhood sexual development and the sooner I understand and internalize that, the better. That it was only my own shame that made it feel like it was traumatic. She made me feel like I’ve overreacted and I shouldn’t even have brought it up in therapy. I almost felt scolded by her. She didn’t even let me finish the story, she just cut me off and started ranting. I’ve been very ashamed of the whole situation ever since and sometimes it feels like I must have made up the whole thing and even when I told my partner I felt like I was “appropriating serious trauma” and “faking”. Is that even possible?

The things he did also don’t feel “enough” to count as sexual abuse. Even if I’d never tell that to anybody else.

I’m so lost on how to move on from this situation, since I haven’t been able to bring this up to other mental health professionals because I don’t think I can take the situation with her repeating and it’s so difficult to find good providers to begin with.

Hi!

I'm so, so sorry you had to experience that, Anon. Your psychologist's response sounds inappropriate on several different levels (interrupting you, dismissing your feelings, ranting to you about it), that's awful. 💕

I know its so hard to open up about things like that and for her to not even let you finish and use what sounds like victim-blaming rhetoric to shut you down is devastating.

I'll say upfront, I don't know what happened to you specifically. But I do know people who went through trauma, especially sexual trauma, often feel like they're faking and/or their trauma isn't real/serious. That doesn't mean it isn't real or "enough" to actually be traumatic.

I'll also say, it's not "faking" or "appropriation" to be upset or feel traumatized by something and its definitely not faking to tell your partner about something that happened to you. You did not make it up, which means you are not faking shit.

Treat yourself as if you are someone else.

If someone else, let's say your partner, told you they experienced exactly what you experienced and that they were worried they'd been sexually assaulted, what would you say? What would you think?

I don't know you, but I suspect you wouldn't react as aggressively as your psychologist did. I suspect you would have an entirely different perspective and you would, at the very least, be respectful and kind about it.

I understand the fear of talking to another therapist/psychologist about it. The struggle to find good mental health professionals is dire, tbh.

(I hope you are no longer with the psychologist who treated you like that because that's unacceptable.)

I don't know if you want advice on that front but I would suggest while you obviously don't have to talk about it again if you're not comfortable, if you find someone that you think you might be able to discuss it with, I'd ask some questions first!

Tell them you're scared to tell them something that happened to you because people have reacted badly before. Ask them what they'd do if you told them something that you felt traumatized/hurt you and they thought "wasn't really traumatizing".

Ask them if they have patients/experience with sexual abuse, childhood in particular.

Hell, if it helps, see if your partner can stick with you when/if you ever decide to discuss it with someone else again. Whatever helps.

Hope this helps, Anon. Let me know if you have any other questions. <33