#and asked if he had a bad influence in his life yet

[nyevn]

ᴡᴀʟʟs ᴏғ ʟɪᴇs / sᴄᴀʀᴀᴍᴏᴜᴄʜᴇ

"𝚆𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑?"

☆

(Yapper, yapper, yapper)

Kinda angst ig

The dark room in which you sat was filled with silence. The cold floor of the bathroom felt like it was gonna break down beneath you any second, yet you wouldn't fall down. You were floating.

Your mind was high in the clouds, not clear enough to see through, but blurry enough to forget every single thought that could bother you at the moment. Your hands felt numb, but the warm hand, of the indigo haired boy, infront of you could you still feel fully. As if someone had connected to your unconciousness. The guy infront of you was fully crystalline in this broken little world of yours.

"What is it that is broken?"

His question startled you a little, you breathed out through your nose, yet you couldn't collect your thoughts to give him a proper answer. That's right, because you were no longer able to trap people by building walls of lies.

"Do you think sinners like me will be forgiven?"

The next few seconds were filled with nothing but the breathing that you and Scaramouche, the indigo haired guy infront of you, shared. His thinking process was just as slow as yours. Why does everyone just let lies off their lips? Like him and you would usually do. Isn't there regret that wraps around your heart?

"Aren't we all sinners? Why would you ask that?"

You let out a little huff at his answer, squeezing his hand gently. It was soft, his pale skin glistened under the moonlight that gazed through the curtains.

The way his features looked even prettier when your mind was numb. Leaned against the bathroom wall he also had fully lost his sense to reality yet there was something that you both had in common. You could stare into the other ones glowing apperance through the void your thoughts were set to.  Was this something you had been looking for your whole entire life? His beautiful messy hair that you always adored from far away, his pretty lips that drove you deeper into the path of curiousity. Scaramouche had the most beautiful eyes out of every guy you had seen before. They reminded you of the emptiness that filled your heart.

You get a little closer just to admire his features further. How could such a beautiful being just dare to look at you. Your conciousness was filled with regret, his with forgiveness.

"Scaramouche..."

His dazed expression showed slight curiousity.

"I have lied to you everytime you asked for the truth"

His gaze went down to his lap, where your hands were locked with eachother.

"I lied to you about not cheating, I lied to you about going to change, I lied about being sorry for you."

[...]

"My mind is dragged into bad habits and there is no one to blame but me"

He didnt even know what to say. You guys have been together for 1 year now and you lied into the face that you admired the most everytime? Did you want to change?

"Did you ever love me?"

You did, you truly did. Altough you couldn't form an answer. Was it really love?

Why would you lie to someone you love?

What is it that pushes you to that point?

If it wasn't for the drugs the two of you were on at the moment he would've screamed at you and demanded you to leave, but once you're under the influence of drugs your emotions were kind of set off.

"You're a terrible person"

Was all he blurred out with his bland expression.

"Do you still think a sinner like me could be forgiven?"

☆

Dont do drugs🔥

[jessicas-pi]

If you’re still doing the ask game writing thingy, may I humbly offer…

1. Sabine and Ezra [Sabezra, if you’re feeling it] with Chopper

2. Impromptu food fight! 🤪

Thanks!!

FUN FACT! I actually had plans ALREADY for a food fight scene in my Medieval AU (Part One), so I wrote that! For context, Sabine and Ezra are somewhere between 5&7 and 7&9 (i'm still working on the exact ages).

If Mother were here, she would tell Sabine that it would be impolite to smash her whole plate of food over the head of that ugly boy, who was apparently trying to get seconds on dessert before he’d even finished his vegetables by stealing the sweet of the boy next to him. But Mother wasn’t here, and the boy next to him happened to be Ezra, and Ezra looked like he was going to cry, so Sabine committed the impolite act with unremorseful gusto. Then, for good measure, she dumped her glass of juice over the stupid boy’s head while he was still too shocked to move. The sound of shattering dishware hushed the whole créche into utter silence, except for Chopper’s naughty warble of laughter. Sabine glared down at Ezra, who was looking at her like she was a hero of legends, and put her hands on her hips. She was about to chastise him for just sitting there while his dessert got stolen, when the boy got himself together and made a face at Ezra. “Are you gonna let a girl fight for you like that?” Sabine was ready to lunge forward into a good old fistfight at the insult, but Ezra grabbed his own plate of food, smashed it into the bully’s chest, and yelled, “It’s called TEAMWORK, stupid!” Another moment of shocked silence. Then the créche erupted into chaos. Oleg was assaulted with a volley of mashed potatoes from every side, Leia lovingly hurled her vegetables into her brother’s face, Chopper used his grabber arms to pick up a bowl of fruit and fling its contents at whoever was closest, the tiny Yoda baby was screeching with delight, and Sabine climbed up to stand on the table, pulling Ezra with her, then raised their joined hands in the air like a king signaling the start of a cavalry charge and screamed: “FOOD FIGHT!”

[yanderederee]

Perfect

ctw: Yandere themes ~ explicit nsfw midway

part1 … part2 … part3 … now~ … part5

“I’m just worried about you!”

“You shouldn’t get so close, yaknow…”

“He’s going to hurt you one of these days!”

Mikey really couldn’t stand your friends sometimes.

They thought they knew the whole picture. Some goody two shoes who fell head first for the bad boy who never came to school.

It’s not like they bothered to acknowledge how you two genuinely got to know one another, how you helped get him back on track with school, how you looked at him like he held the world in his hands, or how deeply he cared— really cared for you.

All they wanted to acknowledge was how you never had any free time anymore. ‘He’s so clingy’ this, and ‘can’t we talk alone?’ That.

Sure, maybe Mikey hated when you looked at someone other than him for longer than ten seconds. But that didn’t make him a bad boyfriend!

“What’cha guys talking about?~” Mikey smiled innocently when he came up behind you. The girls surrounding you gasped, and backed away immediately.

Mikey was so friendly, how could they reject him so harshly? Maybe it was the death glare he burned into their skin, or the threats he made to them days prior for trying to fuel your head with all this nonsense to begin with.

“Morning, Manjiro~” you smiled back, placing your hand softly on the arm he slung over you protectively.

You never cared how other people saw you, even if you were dating the most notorious delinquent in Shinjuku and Shibuya alike.

And that same indifferent nature was just another reason you had him wrapped around your finger.

One of your friends clicked her tongue, and glared at you. “Whatever, don’t come crying to us about it later.”

You were a tough cookie. It took a lot to get under your skin. Yet somehow, that did.

Little by little, anyone who you used to interact with would suddenly give you the cold shoulder. No more friendly smiles or casual waves. If you even were acknowledged, it was with strained levels of respect, addressing you only by your family name, or curt bows.

No doubt from Mikey’s influence.

Still, if no one else, you had your Manjiro. His undeniable presence of security and words of comfort… he had only ever meant to give you the world, and in secret, punish anyone who would dare separate you.

“They don’t know nothing,” Mikey waved off your friends before hugging you close. You didn’t bother to point out his grammatical mistake. “You know I’d never make you cry, right?” He asked with his watery puppy eyes.

Smile so pure, you ruffled the mess of hair on Mikey’s head. “Course not.” You agreed.

He loved when you agreed with him. Validated his delusions.

“I can’t wait for our next study session~” Mikey sighed in contentment, a soft blush hanging over his features. Your face too caught heat at the taboo mention, in school no less. “T-that was..” you tried coming up with the words that could properly display your thoughts on yesterday, but Mikey loved finishing your sentences for you. “Heavenly. I don’t think I’ve ever felt closer to heaven in my life, than I had then…”

Mikey nuzzled the bridge of his nose into the crook of your exposed neck, regretful he hadn’t left any long lasting love bites behind, like he intended. He was too enthralled in other sensations, but tonight, he’d make sure not to be so negligent.

“You’re so cute,” you giggled at his words of sentiment. “But don’t get spoiled now.”

Mikey narrowed his eyebrows in a pout. “Not fair~” he whined into your shoulder, unfazed by the looks of shock or ridicule classmates around you were giving at the public display of… affection.

Turning your head, you kissed your Manjiro’s scalp lovingly. “Fine fine~ just be patient. After school, okay?” You affirmed in a soft spoken tone.

Mikey smirked.

He loved how easily you gave in to him.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ nsfw below ┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈

“M-ma—! Manjiro..!” You yelled desperately, feeling your legs tense so harshly, you began to shake uncontrollably. “Pl-please, I-I’m—!”

But your voice only fueled the desire that flooded Mikey’s senses.

The feeling of your soft thighs against his hands. Your smell. The way playing with you made you scream. It was surreal, like nothing he had ever experienced. The adrenaline of doing these things for the first time only amped his speed further.

Ever since you showed Mikey how to pull back your clitoral hood and exposed your most sensitive parts, he’s been infatuated.

Exploring his tongue over the bundle of nerves, he tried everything, til his hearts content. Shallow licks, slow at first, until he crescendo’d the movement into a quick zig zag motion. The first orgasm he got out of you was evident and loud.

He was so glad he moved his room to the shed, lest his grandfather kill him for his inappropriate actions.

Yet still, even when you twirled his locks into your gentle fists to pull him up, he hurried himself deeper into you. This was heaven, like he said before. How could you take what away from him?

With a more broad sweep of his tongue, he made sure to slowly taste all the wetness you’d produced from your first orgasm. So sweet.

Just as slow as he started, adding pressure from the tip of his tongue, he started from your exposed clit, down til he felt the inward dip of your fluttering hole.

Your moan was soft and low, the movement perfectly easing you down from sensations just seconds ago. But he wanted to keep going, see what sounds you would make by sucking on you.

A drawn out whine escaped your throat when he’d done this. “I-I’m sensitive..! You can’t-“ you tried reasoning with him, but his lazy hooded gaze spoke for itself: he was having the time of his life.

With another hard suck, you whined loud, and threw your head back. “Ahh!—“

God, your cries alone could render him into a horny mess. More, he decided. He wanted to hear more of those sounds. Putting in the extra work, the grip he had on your legs slid up til your hips were under his strength. Pulling your hips upward, he pressed his tongue unbearably closer.

You always gave him just what he wanted. Louder; his name escapes your lips like a mantra. Mikey couldn’t get enough. Just as the muscle of his tongue and your squirming hips met a comfortable rhythm, it was only a matter of minutes before you felt that familiar tension building inside you again.

“M-Mikey! Gonna’..” you made weak attempts at warning him of your oncoming release, but the release overtook your senses before you could do so. A moan more pornographic and sincere soon blessed Manjiro’s eager ears.

You were heaven. It was obvious now, all his blessings in this world was squirming right under him. Your essence. Your angelic cries. The way your thighs cradled him impossibly closer— the way your toes curled and shaking body rattled the frame of his bed.

You were his euphoria.

It was a shame your head was thrown back. He tried getting a good look at your face when you cried so sweetly, but couldn’t.

Enjoying the last few involuntary thrusts your body released, Mikey finally release your core with a loud sounding pop.

His lips were red from friction, but he’d never been happier. Attentions all about you, he slowly rose to his knees on the bed, trying to see your face. His hands stayed glued to your hips as his fingertips traced the curves of your body.

“Manjiro…” you breathed out quietly, turning to reveal your glazed over eyes. Mikey smiled wide, feeling his heart skip a beat at the sight of you.

“You’re so perfect.”

You would never be able to leave Manjiro. For years to come, you would faithfully remain his. Lest the taste of death come between you.

[wintersera]

sick and twisted || stepsibling g!p winrina x virgin!freader

notes: making a comeback. sorry anon for the long ass delay, but i also merged it with another ask bc i thought it would work well together. do NAWT ask why i took so long- i was going thru it 😭😭

cw: porn with plot, stepcest/pseudo incest, noncon -> dubcon, g!p dom winrina, virgin!reader, corruption, use of cuffs, oral (giving), blackmail, biting/marking, creampie, gagging, degredation, slapping, family issues, arguments, mentions of divorce.

wc 3.9k

if you told jimin and minjeong that they would have another step-sibling in their life they would scoff at you, then laugh and say that’s not possible… then scoff in your face again.

yet here they were moving into another house their father bought for you and your mother.

isn’t that fun?

jimin, the actual biological child, was born and raised with a hot headed mother and poor excuse of a father. living with the two was hell for her, dealing with her mothers bull shittery almost every damn day.. and the absence of her father always led to her mother lashing out at her and never him. longer down the line of their shitty marriage, the father decided to pull the trigger and divorce her for good. maybe it was money issues? maybe it was something else? jimin didnt like to pry and she was glad she left it like that.

minjeong was the child of a broke, whorish and shitty woman. the marriage between jimin's father and minjeong’s mother actually lasted quite a while… to their surprise. who knew another horrid woman in this rich fuck of a man’s life would actually do some good to the both of them.

they ended up acting like they knew each other from day one- like i kid you not, they were inseparable. even after the divorce of their father and mother they still stayed together, obviously choosing their dad because god that man was rich as hell and they knew that they could use some privilege from it. not only that, but for some reason their dad loosened up a little, he actually became a much better person and worked on his self improvement, unlike minjeong’s mother who stayed a cheating BITCH … no wonder why their father divorced her sorry ass.

but beside the point. jimin, minjeong and their father arrived at the new mansion. somewhere secluded and somewhere breathtaking- only because your step father really thought your mother was the one and only woman for him.

jiminjeong, without prior notice to their fathers new found wife, and no knowledge of the womans daughter, were left shocked when they saw the two of you enter through the mansion’s doors.

your first impressions weren’t good at all… your mother looked and acted like- guess what?!! a bitch… and you? you seemed pretty decent at first, so jimin and minjeong didn’t really care. yeah, unfortunately they didn’t click with you, but they thought that they should give it some time. you were unfamiliar with the new environment and they knew it would cause crazy anxiety.

—

a couple months into the family and you and your mother finally started to act comfortably around the rest. it didn’t take long for you mother to start acting up though- frankly she opened up too much, as in, she started to become more and more of an asshole as the months went by. at first it started as simple requests from your step father. she would go around the house demanding him to buy this and that. her ego grew… and when i say grew, it inflated actually. nothing could stop her from being a prick, and unfortunately she influenced you to act like the same way.

she had a plan- she really didn’t love your step father. instead she was really just into it for the money. and of course, you knew that plan from the beginning. as much as you didn’t like your mother, the plan wasn’t half bad- deciding to stay with her was the right choice, well you thought so anyways. anything for money i guess.

the workload he had stressed your step father out so much and your mothers constant requests for money really didn’t help. berating him almost every day, sometimes she would go so far to the point of him having to lock himself in his office just so he could avoid her.

only 6 months of living together and she’s already driving him crazy? jimin and minjeong looked at each other in disbelief, surely you wouldn’t join in on the disruptive behaviour… right?

oh they were so wrong.

YOU-

you wanted the plan to go well too… you needed that cash. fuck your mother and everything, that cash meant more than your strained bond. you wanted it for yourself, so now it was your turn to fuck around and be a dick head.

doing everything in your power to get money from your step father, like your mother did. it started out all simple and sweet.. you know like casually asking for allowance, and since he was rich as fuck, allowance was usually something around 2k per ask. racking up the money somewhere in your room for yourself, you didn’t realise jimin and minjeong were staring at you through the crack of the door.

jimin carefully lowered herself to minjeong’s height, making sure you wouldn’t be able to hear an utter from her. whispering in her ear “what a waste… she’s pretty but she’s a money stealing prick”

somehow minjeong was calm about it, thinking you were just stashing it up because she knew you were previously broke. she’s been in that same situation, showing some sort of empathy towards you “i mean.. she hasn’t done any bad yet… well i hope she never does actually. i hope she’s not like her mom”

jimin scoffs “i doubt that”

the sound of something dropping on the floor caught their attention, you’d dropped a bag of some sort. their hearts beating out of their chests thinking that you had caught them watching you. thankfully you didn’t, uttering under a few curses under your breath and nothing else. sighing in relief, they had back to their respective rooms and called it a day.

that was until they heard you shouting downstairs after a couple of hours.

“fuck you mean you can’t give me any more money. aren’t you supposed to be my dad? you know, someone who cares for their children and shit”

jimin woke up first, creeping into minjeongs room and shaking her awake “…mmm… huh? what’s up”

“don’t be surprised, but i think y/n is arguing with our dad… told you she was like her mom”

sneaking their way downstairs, tiptoeing so they wouldn’t be heard. they notice their dad hunched over in the couch, his hands covering his face in.. anger? or sadness. they couldn’t tell.

“GOD- fuck you’re such a shit step dad… you know what fuck you” the step father being on the verge of tears, the way he balled up his fists, the way his face was red hot and the way he was biting down hard on his lip, you knew it was was working and you knew you were such a shit person for it, you were growing heated too- for some reason. mothers genetics you could say.

“you couldn’t keep your first wife, and you couldn’t keep your second wife?! and now you’re going to lose your third all because you can’t provide for your family like the good man you are.” you laughed in his face and clicked your tongue “ahhh it all makes sense now. you're a miserable excuse of a father and a poor excuse of a husband. you’re rich as hell i dont know why you can’t give me anymore money…”

“i-i.. i’m trying my best you know y/n” voice cracking “i’m doing my best to keep the family together… i just want us to be happy”

“yeah well you’re not doing a good job now are you? hell, you’re also a shitty example of a man too. go ahead and write those divorce papers. i’m sick of your shit”

with that, you walked back upstairs, jimin and minjeong running back up trying not to get caught.

you’d struck a nerve in them, witnessing you berate their dad knowing that he’s a changed man, made them vexed. jimin had been peering at your face, an obvious crease in her forehead and in between her brows made it obvious that she was planning something sick. minjeong had a cold and blank scowl.

they both gave each other knowing looks, a smirk on both of their faces… whatever they had in mind was not morally right, but they couldn’t care less.

—

sleeping soundly after the whole argument, glad that you could possibly get something out of it by the time you woke up, you failed to hear the sound of your lock being picked open.

jimin creeped towards your bed, gritting her teeth as she tried her very best not to punch you in the face. utter disgust was the one thing she was feeling, looking at you made her grimace. she found you pretty at first glance but after she witnessed you tear down her dad, her vision was shattered. even if she wanted to beat you up, she couldn’t, she wanted to defile you first. with shaky hands, she lifted the thick bed sheets off of your body, carefully stripped you out of your clothes and gazed at your naked body. she lightly slapped her cheek, you looked good bare but she didn’t let that take over her… yet.

she hooked your wrist onto the bed frame. the cold icy feeling of the cuffs latching onto your left wrist made you stir in your sleep, yet it wasn’t enough to wake you up from your deep slumber.

minjeong had the job of writing on you. depriving your humanity by writing objectifying words on your bare stomach. words such as ‘slut’, ‘filthy whore’, ‘gold digger’, were written across your stomach, thighs and legs. if it wasn’t humiliating enough, she took pics just for safe measures. it was horrible, yes she knew that.

she thought how genius it would be to draw an arrow on your lower abdomen pointing down towards your pussy, the words above saying ‘use here’. giggling to herself as she snapped another pic.

the flash from minjeong’s camera startled you. waking up grumpily asking “what the fuck is going on” as you tug on your arm, only to realise that you’ve chained to the bed.

first thing you noticed was minjeong’s camera pointing towards you, bright flash blinding your eyes “fuck- shit, this isn’t funny. turn the camera off” the chains on the cuff rattling as you attempt to pry them off “guys… this isn’t funny… take it off”

second thing you realised was the lack of clothing. the chilly air hit your body, goosebumps forming on your skin. the warmth of the blanket was no more and the intense humiliation began to seep into your body.

thirdly, the writing on your stomach and legs as you look down analysing the situation.

“you shouldn’t have said that earlier. the disrespect you have… yu y/n you’re disgusting” jimin spat at you, her gaze turned towards minjeong who then nodded. afraid that they would kill you right on the spot, automatically you started to sob out pathetic pleas

“listen, shit- i’m sorry. i was desperate okay… he should’ve given me the money anyway- cut me some slack, it was only a one time thing. you know, me and my mom rea-“

a hand flew to your face “shut the fuck up” she left a red stinging mark on your cheek- well deserved. minjeong gritted her teeth, she didn’t want her dad to wake up to another argument yet alone waking up to his two kids fight his other kid “this picture i took.. do you want this to be uploaded everywhere?” rapidly shaking your head in denial. the image in question was so vulgar, your legs being spread apart while the words ‘use here’ were pointing right at your pussy, it was truly horrible. minjeongs lips tugged upwards, biting back a snicker only because she wanted to seem serious and mean about this- oh and also because the image violently turned her on.

“n-no… delete the pic- please i’ll give the money back and apologise… just.. don’t upload it anywhere” hiccuping while hot tears streamed down to your chin.

“poor you” jimin added on “no one can help you now.. do as you’re told” her tone was sickening to hear.

it clicked and you felt disgusted, the knowing look that they had.. body language showing that they were about to ravish you. it was gross.

your tear stained face shifted into a dreaded look. feeling jittery, your eyes widened as both of them slid down their boxers, revealing their cocks that sprung up.

“…you guys are sick…” there’s no way in hell that they were about to do this. but here they were, approaching you as you attempt to free your wrist from the cuffs again “get away f-from me… you sick fuckers” minjeong sprang onto the bed first, holding your legs open as you try to kick away from her grasp. curses and shouts left your mouth, but they were useless since jimin wrapped her hand around it.

there was no use in fighting back. you gave into their heinous acts even if your body was rejecting them. no one was there to help you anyway. even if you called for your mother, she wouldn’t give a shit since she only cared for herself from the very beginning.

jimin, who stood beside you, pressed her cock against your face. you could feel her throbbing as she placed it on your cheek, the hard thing felt slimy and gross- you denied her as she tried to forcefully shove it in your mouth, which ended up with her slapping it around your face like you were some common whore “open up, unless you want those pics of you online” of course you didn’t want that- those posts would ruin your reputation, your self esteem. it would ruin you.

mentally screaming in your head, you open your mouth wide, feeling her thick cock enter your mouth slowly. jimin let out a long sigh, savouring the feeling of your tongue at the base of her cock- “a-ah.. you’re taking me whole? you slut” moaning out as she steadily rocks her hips back and forth “you should- mm fuck.. really use this m-mouth just to take dick, don’t you agree jeongie”

minjeong, who was stroking her dick in between your legs, nodded her head. fixated on the way you took jimin’s throbbing cock easily down your throat. she watched you with keen eyes, keeping her gaze on the way your lips parted and wrapped around her shaft while also listening to the gagging sounds you made everytime jimin hit the back of your throat.

having more of a moral compass in comparison to jimin, she felt a little bad for you- but couldn’t help getting off to the view in front of her. she grinned, a very fucked up grin you could say. grabbing her phone again, she pressed record without you noticing- being so caught up with having dick stuffed in your mouth. spreading your lips apart, pointing the cameras and zooming in on your soaked pussy “you really are a whore- getting wet from this.. you should’ve said you wanted this from the beginning y/n. or were you too much of a coward to ask” slapping your pussy repeatedly, earning a few muffled moans.

putting the phone down minjeong slipped her hard cock inside of you, skipping the condom and everything.

your pussy was tight, almost like a virgins… wait- “god, don’t tell me you’re a… you’re a virgin?” a sick and twisted smile crept upon both jimins and minjeongs face. and the way they got harder hearing that news further implicated that they were morally fucked up in the head “mmm… fuck, you’re so tight that i can barely move… y/n ah- ngh..” by trying to push her dick further into you, it caused you to scream out in pain and pleasure- the sensation of her throbbing cock filling up your virgin pussy felt alien, yet so good. thankfully you were soaking wet, and the precum slathered around minjeongs dick helped it slide in much easier than it should have.

“nmghh hurts… hurts-” you manage to say between breaths, voice muffled by jimin's cock still being pumped in and out of your throat. minjeong couldn’t care, extracting her anger out on your pussy, stretching it wide open for her own sick pleasure. she scoffed,

“not so talkative now, are you?” she mocks, her hands gripping the sides of your hips, nails digging into your flesh as she jolts her hips which caused her tip to ram into the entrance of your cervix. fuck.. and it hurt like hell. never being filled up by something so large, your eyes begin to roll back, and you begin to scream around jimin's cock.

both of them showed absolutely no mercy, using your body as if it was a toy for their pleasure. being used in such a way made you feel heated, your stomach tightening as they continue to force themselves into your holes.

minjeong moaned out, her nails digging deeper and deeper into your flesh, almost breaking it. your tight cunt clamping down so hard on her cock threw her into a frenzy- she observes your face with hearts in her eyes, she never felt this powerful before, god… even her movements sped up- there was a husky rasp to her moans, it even seemed animalistic.

and there was jimin, gripping your hair in a messy ponytail just so that she can ruthlessly fuck your mouth. with the amount that she was tugging and pulling on your head, you could assume that your head was throbbing in pain- assuming anyways, because you were feeling strangely good that you most likely ignored the pain.

as planned, they continue their assault on you. pussy already stretched out and abused, and your jaw began to ache.

enough of that jimin thought. although she enjoyed your warm throat, mouth and tongue working magic on her cock, she couldn’t forget that this was your punishment. the palm of her hand pushed your forehead, prompting you to lay back down, head meeting the soft pillows. you fell with a light thud- now due to the fact that you had nothing in your mouth to keep you quiet, and the way that minjeong was still pummelling into your pussy raw, you had no other choice but to cry out loud… not in a ‘save me, help me!’ way, it was more like a “fuck, fuck- mmnngh… w-wait- feels ah..!?” type of way.

jimin looked at her younger step sibling. she knew minjeong was too heated to even think about the punishment. she clicked her tongue in annoyance.

minjeongs fingers made their way to your clit, toying and rubbing with the sensitive nub. it only pushed you to moan even louder, the first time you’d have someone play with your clit.. waves of pleasure washed over your body causing you to wriggle around. seemed like jeongie was a little pussy drunk, actually no, she was pussy drunk. every pound forced your cunt to the best fucktoy for her. at this point her sweat dripped down from her temple to the side of her face with how fucking fast her hips were going.

jimin stood for a moment- thats when it struck her, another great plan came to mind. she kneeled on top of your bed, making it creak a little, shuffling a little closer to where minjeong was positioned, she whispered something sinister into her ears.

“get up-“ jimin ordered with an authoritative voice “stand up y/n” you winced, hissing out in pain as minjeong carelessly pulls her cock out with a little-

“mmm.. now? oh yeah, okay…” jeongie thankfully takes the cuffs off. thank god she did because the pain from the hard ass metal had you rubbing your wrist, a slightly deep and red mark sat on your skin.

“y/n, stand up” jimin ordered once again.

coughing out, voice hoarse “…fuck no… n-not gonna”

“still talking back?” minjeong sneered. now both of them are pretty strong- being able to toss you across the room for shits and giggle.. but not so much shits and giggles when you’re forced to stand up, seized inbetween jimins strong grip, both hands around your bare shoulders. she momentarily gawked between your legs, she snickered-

“lowlife stealing bitch and now a whore even though you were a virgin… you honestly deserve this” all at once her dick pierces your cunt, her erratic movements earning a guttural moan that came straight out your throat. following jimin, minjeong came from behind, lifting your leg into the air so that she could make room for herself.

“don’t…!? you’re gonna b-break me- i can’t fit both in me.. wait, please pleaseplease anything but this- please!?!” teasing her dick at your entrance, basking in the feeling of your wet pussy again. jimins thick cock was bigger than you’d anticipated- but having minjeong’s in your cunt as well would surely leave you unable to walk. not like they cared…

ramming both at different speeds caused you to lose control of everything. unable to adjust to their length, your hands instinctively search for something to grab ,because really.. who can function normally with two girthy dicks stuffed inside of their virgin pussy.

if one of them pumped in, the other one pumped out. an endless stream of violent railing that turned your brain to mush. beyond saving, and beyond speech- nothing more than gargled moans and incoherent mumbles fell from your mouth. so, so intense that you felt like your body was giving in-

being dehumanised and degraded and only made for jiminjeongs use. you hated that you learned to love it.

jimin threw her head back, her mouth agape moaning at how stuffed your pussy was and how much of a cock slut you were. hips snapping each time she felt like you weren’t reacting the way she wanted. huffing each time she felt close- her plan wasn’t completed yet and because of that she had to restrain from shooting her load into your womb.

minjeong bit down on your shoulder, marking you everywhere she could- only because she could take a couple more pictures later and use that as blackmail and definitely not her own personal use. she nuzzled herself into the crook of your neck- leaving dark bruises scattered across your nape.

you wrap your arms around jimins neck “feel- feel weird… haa.. mmngh-“ you squeezed your eyes shut, your body tensed, you heard the two of them pant in your ear, jimins low moaning reverberating in your head and minjeong high pitched whimpers suggested that they were as close as you were.

“take it- fuck,, take it all you filthy whore” jimin snapping her hips as she fills your entire cunt with her semen. not even a second later, minjeong ejaculates as well, she squeals and bites into your neck, both hers and jimins legs shaking from the harsh orgasm. you follow in their pleasure, letting out a strangled moan, head slumping backwards into minjeong as your body falls limp.

they leave you afterwards, letting you lay weakly on the floor “what happens here, stays here. if you tell anyone we’ll know.. oh and those pics will be posted” walking out the door as if nothing ever happened. and yet you’re laying down on your carpet cunt filled up with a mixture of their semen leaking out.

hmm… guess you’ll have to piss them off again. who knows what they’ll do to you.

HELP IDK HOW TO FEEL ABT THIS? THOUGHTS????

[nervoussagittarius]

furniture shopping + night out

matt sturniolo x influencer!reader

summary: your day in the life vlog ft. your boyfriend matt, request

warnings: fluff, maybe language

“good morning vlog” you said taking a sip of your coffee. the sun was just starting to come through your apartment windows as people filled the streets below. “i have a very exciting day planned today so i thought i’d intro the video now and we can chat for a minute.”

you began to get all of the ingredients out to make breakfast for you and matt while you talked to the vlog about your night. your videos tended to feel like a facetime call between you and your fans. everyone loved how personal and friendly they felt. “matt spent the night here yesterday, and i figured i’d be a good girlfriend and make us breakfast. i convinced matt to go to ikea with me this morning because i’ve been in this apartment for about a month now, and i still have no living room furniture. so we’re going to try to fix that.”

as you continued making breakfast matt finally woke up and decided to join you in the kitchen. “okay guys, be honest do these pancakes look good? i hope so. but i’m going to go wake matt up-” matt appeared from around the corner at this statement. “oh nevermind. hi baby! good morning.” matt, not being fully awake yet, gave you a small groan and fell into your arms for a hug. you returned it, holding him for what felt like hours. neither of you complained though. you and matt could be surgically attached and it still wouldn’t be close enough for the two of you.

you turned your head to the side looking at your counter. “me and my friends talked about last night and what we have planned for this morning while i made us breakfast.” “your friends?” matt questioned since he was the only one in your house. “yeah my friends in the vlog” you said with a ‘duh’ tone, earning yourself a poke in the side from matt.

you picked up your camera again about an hour later while you were in the car. focusing the lens on matt, you began to ask him questions. “how do you feel now that i might actually have a couch after a month?” you asked with a laugh. matt’s smile brightened as he took his eyes off the road for a second to look between you and your camera. “i’m happy that we’ll finally have some place to sit other then your kitchen table. i’m excited to go shopping if you’re excited.” he reached over to pat your knee.

“matt’s not the biggest fan of shopping if you couldn’t tell. or if you’ve seen his house you’d know how unfurnished it is.” you said setting the camera on the dash to look at both of you. “listen, i just don’t see the point in worrying about how my house looks when i can be doing fun stuff with my life.” matt said with a chuckle. he grabbed your hand so you knew he was fully just joking to mess with you. “i think furniture shopping is fun. we’ll see you guys again hopefully when i have a couch.”

you were back in the car when you found yourself filming again. you head rested on matt’s ands your intertwined arms as you sat in the parking lot. “bad news guys. we couldn’t find a couch.” you removed yourself from matt as he started backing out of the parking spot. his hand now rested on the back of your neck as he played with your hair. “so sad. i still have to sit on the floor.” matt remarked. you gave him a discouraged laugh catching his attention. he looked over at you while at the red light. “don’t worry sweetheart we’ll figure it out.” he leaned over quickly to kiss you cheek. “thanks matt. we’ll see you guys later.” you said giving your vlog a small smile.

a few hours had past as you and matt spent some quality time together at your apartment. it wasn’t often that you guys got alone time so you cherished it when you did. no meetings, no sibling, and no cameras. but that came to an end when you realized you had a vlog to finish.

matt was the one to pick up your camera this time. you were in your bathroom getting ready for the prada event you were going to tonight. matt thought this would be the perfect time to try and scare you. he quietly walked through your house, making his way to you. unfortunately for him you caught him in this act. his reflection showed up in the corner of your mirror. “what are you doing?” “no i’ve been caught. i was trying to scare you.” he said with a laugh. “next time, baby” he set your camera on your bathroom counter and came around to hug you from behind. “you look really pretty, sweetheart. do you want to tell them where we’re going?” he asked as he gently layed his chin in your shoulder. he didn’t want to mess up what you were doing.

matt’s comment had made you blush, but you’ll quickly pulled yourself back together. “thanks baby. um- matt did a photoshoot with prada recently, and he looked incredible. so they invited us to an event they’re throwing tonight.” “if we make it there.” matt threw out winking at the camera. you looked at him in the mirror quickly as you threw your arm back to jokingly hit him in the shoulder. “matthew!” you exclaimed. “what? im just saying their might be traffic.” he shrugged acting nonchalantly as you rolled your eyes.

“anyway guys i think we’re going to call it a night. i’ll let you know tomorrow how the event went. i love you and i’ll see you soon.” you smiled picking up the camera as matt starts to walk out of the bathroom. “wait, matt! do you have any last words for our friends?” he turned to you with a slight smirk. he quickly screamed in the camera before running off. “i’m so sorry head phone users.” and you ended the video

an: i’m sorry this is so short but i wanted to make this different from chris’s so i hope you enjoy. i also slightly based this off of the vibe of jules leblancs blogs because i love them 🤍

[mrs-kmikaelson]

Our Song and Dance¹

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

Masterlist | Part 2

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

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

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

You could still remember the night you met.

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

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

Finnick.

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

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

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

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

Your eyes just so imperceptibly narrowed. “Likewise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were in the exact same boat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Finnick-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We will never be free, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

“C’mon, Y/N, it’s gonna be fine-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath hitched. “Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that didn’t make life any more okay.

After all, nobody ever really won The Games.

“Annie- Annie, it’s alright-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wished you could fall asleep so easily, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And maybe he was right.

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

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

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

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

She could barely even look at you anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He reminded you of Finnick.

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

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

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

Too young. They were too young.

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

These kids were just kids, and they died young.

Just like you and Finnick did.

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

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

He’d never get to do that now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Look at how wrong you were.

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

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

It felt like nothing you’d ever experienced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was nothing you could do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your favourite colour?” 

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

“What?”

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

“I know what colours are, Finnick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugged. “Don’t have one.”

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

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

You snorted. “I beg to differ.”

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It didn’t even feel like you were pretending.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So real.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re even cuter when you blush.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he knew when to be serious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finnick was your lifeline, and he had no idea.

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

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

You were a child, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She perked up. “I’ll go with you.”

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

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

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

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

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

He was Seneca Crane’s replacement.

What the hell was Finnick doing talking to him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His girlfriend.

He called you his girlfriend.

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

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

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

“I am so serious right now.” 

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

You swallowed. 

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

“Trust you to do what?”

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

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

“I trust you.”

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

There were so many things going on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t let that happen.

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

You couldn’t let that happen.

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

Then and there, you decided your fate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The universe must’ve hated you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You rubbed her back. “Annie-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You felt cold.

You swallowed. “Finn-”

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

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

“She was going to be fine-”

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

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

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

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

But you didn’t know what that meant.

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

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

“Stop.”

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

“Stop it.”

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

“Y/N, stop it.”

Another tear. “You deserve this-”

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

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

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

“Finni-”

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

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

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

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

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

You were gonna dance together one last time.

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

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

Those games killed everyone, victors included.

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was a designer, but not your designer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I had a feeling.”

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

And then your little smile turned into a grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve danced this dance before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You all did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He answered, “They’ve brokered an alliance with us on behalf of Katniss and Peeta.” At that, you groaned, but Finnick readily cut you off. “This will be good for us, Y/N.”

“They’re brand new to this,” you countered. Sure, you liked the spark that the Girl on Fire had, and Peeta was quite the catch, but they only won a year ago. The Careers would be a better pick, even though you didn’t exactly like them, either.

“Yes, but they’re good; you’ve seen them. And the Capitol’s gonna love it, the two pairs of lovers together. C’mon, you know all this.” You did. You knew that this was one of the best avenues to take, but something in you was against it.

Maybe it was just that Peeta reminded you of the man you were in love with, and Katniss reminded you of yourself. But right now, you had to remind yourself to think with your head, not your heart. You needed to disregard your feelings and do whatever it took to win this.

To you, winning didn’t mean surviving this. Winning meant that Finnick did.

So, with a sigh, you surrendered, agreeing to this little deal. “So, these accessories are, what? Bargaining chips?”

He smirked. “No, they’re symbols. Katniss and Peeta have theirs, too.”

You chuckled, shaking your head and mocking, “So we’re in a little golden alliance, then?”

“It appears so, darling.”

After a little more conversation, Finnick and you headed off to bed, even though neither of you could really sleep. You held each other, though, and so the insomnia was bearable. He told you to stow the necklace away, that you were saving the objects for The Games. Apparently, Katniss and Peeta still needed a little persuasion for this, especially the former.

She was smart not to trust you, but she was equally as naive for the same reason. If you wanted to, you could be judgemental all day, but you didn’t have the time for it, so your mind didn’t linger on the subject.

When you were waiting to be assessed the next day with the rest of the tributes, your mind didn’t really linger on anything. You felt numb: not pleased, not sad, just numb. If you could pin-point an emotion, it had to be anger, but that feeling hadn’t left you since your first Games.

Finnick, on the other hand, looked no different, maybe even a little amused by the tension in the room, too amused for somebody who had to go back to the arena. But Finnick was always one to look a challenge into the eye and, instead of looking away, give it a wink. That was his persona while you were here, in the Capitol, so you’d let him indulge in it if that’s what made him feel better.

You’d do anything for him, even if he didn’t love you back.

He went into the room first. You didn’t know exactly what he was gonna do, but you knew that you were all basically doing the same thing. Plutarch Heavensbee may have been new, but even he knew who you all were. You’ve all shown your skills already, been here already, danced this dance already.

The song was getting old.

You were all giving your own personal fuck you to the Capitol.

When Finnick walked out, he flashed you a smirk that almost made you laugh. You stifled a smile as you walked into the room yourself, but it was quickly wiped off your face as memories played in your head like a movie.

You remembered the first time you did this, coming in and saying your name, scared out of your mind but ready to win, ready to impress the sponsors.

Now, you didn’t have to say your name. You caught their attention as soon as you walked in. You were the Princess. You needed no introduction.

It was funny, though, how that imaginary crown couldn’t save you from this.

The thought of your inevitable death was what fuelled you. You were known for your abilities with a sword, but that wasn’t what you reached for. You reached for the jug of gasoline and a lighter, immediately opening it and pouring in a circle in the middle of the room before stepping into it.

Then you looked right up at all of them and their confused faces, and threw the open lighter to the liquid in front of you, igniting a circle of fire around you.

You stared right at the head Gamemaker as you did it, expressionless. His expression told you that he got the message, or at least your hostility.

You would burn this place to the ground if you had to, even if you got burned while doing it. 

When the flames got smaller, you turned and stepped over them, walking out of the room without another glance or word to the Capitol mutts. As far as you were concerned, they weren’t worth your time—you were running out of that, anyways.

Once the assessments were over, all any of you had time to do was get ready for the show. Caesar wasn’t exactly a face you wanted to see right now. Maybe he saw his enthusiasm as a way of “calming the tributes down,” but it was really just his lack of empathy. You didn’t need him cheering and practically gossiping about your death before it happened. 

As much as the people in the Capitol liked to think of these Games as games, they weren’t. They were your lives. But you really could spend days obsessing over it, days that you didn’t have.

It was time to dance, and there was nothing you did better.

You were backstage, standing with Finnick and Johanna, waiting your turns. Cinna had made you very pretty. He was good at what he did.

You were wearing a dark blue dress with wide straps tied into blue bows at your shoulders and a sweetheart neckline. The bottom half was pretty fitted, but it was covered by a sparkly, golden, A-line, hoop petticoat made of the same material as your top from the parade, gridded with holes like before. And of course, your crown sat atop your head—Cinna insisted.

He really wanted to nail the whole Princess thing, milk it for all it was worth. And you let him, because his designs were great. Part of you wished you could’ve gotten more into fashion; now you’d never get the chance to.

You couldn’t blame Katniss for being so stand-offish. You’d be intimidated, too, if you were new to the club, watching from the sidelines. You, Finnick, and Johanna didn’t really seem all too approachable right now, either, even the ever so charming Odair. They were exchanging jokes and laughing at the interviews, mocking them, while you were rather stoic, observing the interviews watchfully.

Cashmere and Gloss went first, of course. They did theirs together since they were brother and sister. It was odd to you, how two siblings managed to get reaped together out of all the victors district 1 had, but you were paying more attention to the act they were putting on. 

Casmere was sobbing. She’s a much better killer than she is an actor, you thought, but the people in the audience clearly bought it. You’d give her credit, though; you were all trying your best to get this thing cancelled, even if that was highly unlikely.

Next came the two crazy Careers who made Gloss’ acting look world class. Then Beetee went on stage, using logic as a tactic rather than emotion. Smart, but logic wouldn’t sway President Snow’s wishes. The Capitol sent innocent kids off to die every year in a televised event to pay for something that happened years before any of them were born—logic was obviously not their strong suit.

Wiress went next, and that’s basically when you tuned out. She was pretty out of it, not really saying much. Finnick was going after her. That’s what occupied your thoughts.

“Hey, you alright?” Your were snapped out of your daze by the very man you were thinking about, as if he was reading your mind. Those blue eyes that you loved so much stared down at you, concern swimming through them.

Those ocean eyes. You could drown in them.

You cleared your throat, straightening your shoulders. “Yeah, I’m good.” He continued to stare down at you like he was completely unconvinced, but before he could say anything, they were calling his name.

He cursed under his breath then placed a soft kiss on your temple before having to walk out on stage, that famous smirk on his face. He was so good at that, at going from hard to soft so easily, cursing to kissing you.

He was good. He was real good, and he was a much better actor than any other tribute here. He was so good that he could make even you believe his performance.

You watched them from the TV backstage. “Finnick,” Caesar started. “As I recall, the last time we spoke, it was with your other half, who is here today.” The crowd cheered.

Finn nodded, smiling tensely, which you were sure he did on purpose. “That’s right.”

“You and the Princess have so graciously shared your love with us, and we have fallen in love with you both, perhaps as much as you love each other.” You and Johanna simultaneously rolled your eyes. Finnick, though, smiled to the cheering audience, mouthing thank you’s that no doubt made them swoon. “None of us know how to deal with the fact that you are both going into The Games- I certainly haven’t come to terms with it. Tell us, how are you dealing with this?”

You scoffed. If there was something the people of the Capitol liked to do, it was pretending that your tragedy was their own. They didn’t know even half of your pain, any of yours. 

Caesar practically shoved the microphone in Finnick’s face. He looked down, like he was thinking, but you knew he probably had this bit down pat already. “If I’m being honest, neither Y/N nor I have come to terms with it, either.” He now looked right to the camera. “What I do know is that I will do whatever it takes to protect the woman I love.” The crowd cooed as you looked straight at the TV, as if Finnick was staring into your eyes. “And if I… if I die in that arena, then my last thought will be of her lips… and how lucky I was to have met her and have had the opportunity to give her my heart.”

The crowd went wild and Caesar said something in response, but you couldn’t hear it. You were stuck staring into Finnick’s eyes, the eyes you fell in love with. Oh, he was so good. He could dance the dance so much better than you. Because everything he said, he almost made you believe that he meant it.

You blinked the tears in your eyes away when Johanna shook you, telling you they were about to announce your name. You put the mask back on, and it was your love for Finnick that made you do it. You were doing this for him.

An exhale left your lips as you waited for your cue. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, as our Prince exits, I have the honour of welcoming his counterpart to the stage. The winner of the 67th Hunger Games. The Princess of Panem. Y/N Y/L/N!”

The doors you stood behind opened and you walked onto the stage, a stellar smile on your face as you waved to the roaring crowd. You just had to play the role, and everything would be fine.

When the cheers died down, Caesar gave you a sympathetic look, or at least a look that he thought was sympathetic. “Now, Y/N, it is lovely to see you. You look stunning.”

“Thank you, Caesar. It’s always wonderful to see you. I just wish it was under different circumstances.” You glanced to the crowd, catching their pity. For once, that was the exact emotion you wished to inspire.

“Yes, I think I speak for us all when I say that this is not easy.” You tightly smiled, even though you really just wanted to flip him off. “We just spoke to Finnick, he has been quite expressive these past few days in the Capitol, but you, Y/N, you have not been as revealing. Please, we’d like to know what’s been on your mind.”

If Caesar really heard what was on your mind, then he’d be appalled. That wasn’t your goal, even though you’d greatly enjoy that. Instead, you had a different play.

The audience was very quiet in anticipation of your response. You sighed, keeping the tired smile. “I, um… I’ve had a lot on my mind, really. Finnick and I, we thought we had more time, time to get married and even have kids, but now it’s like that time has just been… stolen from us.” Collective awes resounded throughout the crowd as Caesar brought his other hand to his chest, like your words moved him. “It’s- it’s just not fair, simple as that. But I love him, and that love will survive, even if I don’t.”

The audience let their dismay be known while Caesar shook his head. “Oh, my dear, I have seen your love- we all have, and I know that it will never die.” You nodded in agreement, listening to everyone else agree with you.

The acting was easier than you thought it’d be. Maybe that was because it wasn’t all acting, not for you. You knew your role, and you knew it well, but your love for Finnick was not something you had to fake. It was perhaps one of the only real things you had left.

“Now, we are all in for an emotional night, so I’d just like to lighten the mood a little- is that alright?” You nodded again, though you wondered how he would’ve reacted if you didn’t. “Okay, now we all saw your display at the parade- isn’t that right, everyone?” He paused, letting them applaud. “Yes, it was magnificent. Would I be right in assuming that you have something similar planned tonight?”

“Oh, you’d be correct,” you responded, flashing a grin at the whooping crowd.

“Please, please.” He stepped back. “Go right ahead.”

You glanced at Cinna sitting front row before pressing the button of the device he gave you. The golden petticoat then went up in flames, seemingly “ejecting” the skirt of your dress, sending it from above your knees to your ankles as it went from skin-tight to flowy. The very bottom faded into a teal colour, like the sea.

The crowd’s cheers got louder than you thought possible. Caesar wowed, then raised his voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Princess of Panem!” You gave the crowd one last wave before making your way up the stairs to stand with the rest of the victors.

You were standing next to Finnick by the time the next tribute was called out and the attention was on them. To your surprise, he grabbed your hand, holding it tightly. But what really surprised you was the slight tremble you felt.

You looked up at him to see him already staring down at you. His mask fell a little, and instead of the at-ease Finnick you just saw, you were looking at a much more serious, stern version. You were confused by what could’ve brought this on, but then he leant down slightly, whispering in your ear, “I told you. I’m not letting you die.” When he pulled away, he didn’t look any less serious.

Oh, what a great liar he could be. There he was, making you believe in things that couldn’t possibly be true. You were going to die. You knew that, and you’d accepted it already. But Finnick hadn’t accepted it at all. He looked like he was believing his own lie.

You don’t know why this had shaken him so badly. Maybe he felt obligated to you, maybe he felt bad for you, but whatever it was, you weren’t gonna make it worse.

You could be a good actor, too.

For him.

You nodded, whispering back, “I know.” This looked to have calmed him down a little. He kissed the side of your head, and then the mask was back up. He kept his tight hold on your hand, and you let him.

You never know when it’d be the last time you held hands, and so you were gonna enjoy this while it lasted.

Even though this was an “emotional night,” as Caesar had dubbed it, you still got satisfaction out of everything the victors were pulling. When Johanna came on stage, she had a totally different approach than all of your sad acts and Beetee’s logic: she said what you all really wanted to say, giving the Capitol a loud fuck you.

You and Finnick had to stop yourselves from laughing amidst your shock. Caesar definitely wasn’t expecting that. You knew Snow definitely wasn’t expecting that, either. You hoped he was watching this right now, and you hoped that all of Panem could feel your outrage.

But if you were surprised by anything, it was the so called star-crossed lovers from district 12. Katniss’ wedding dress was a nice touch; she could’ve convinced even you that they were in love, if you didn’t know any better.

You weren’t the only one with a message to send to the Capitol with your attire. She spun around and her white dress was engulfed in flames, transforming into a midnight blue dress similar to yours. And when she lifted her arms, wings were revealed, and the smile on your lips widened.

“It’s a bird,” Caesar stammered in awe. “It’s like, a- it’s got feathers- it’s a bird- like a-”

You murmured at the same time as Katniss spoke up, “Like a Mockingjay.” You looked up to Finnick, seeing him already smirking. Everdeen was a lot ballsier than you thought.

“Your stylist certainly has outdone himself this time, hasn’t he? Bestowing not one, but two just astonishing looks upon us! What theatricality.” The attention was drawn to your designer. “Cinna! Take a bow.”

You were growing to like this man more and more, knowing that the Capitol must have hated him.

When the cheers died down and Katniss came and joined you all, the event was almost over with just Peeta left. You remembered the advice you gave him; you had high hopes for him, and he did not disappoint. 

He claimed he and Katniss had a secret wedding, reeled them all in, and then he added the cherry on top. “You know, Katniss and I, we’ve been luckier than most. And I wouldn’t have any regrets at all…” he paused, choking up, “i-if, if it weren’t… if…”

“If it weren’t for what? What, Peeta?”

“If it weren’t for the baby.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

The audience clamoured. You slapped a hand over your mouth to hide the upturn of your lips, feigning horror. Finnick was in the same boat, stifling a laugh.

Golden boy was smarter than he got credit for.

People in the audience stood up, shouting while Caesar tried to calm them down. They were calling for The Games to be stopped, exactly what you’d been trying to achieve all night. Caesar whispered something to Peeta away from the microphone, and he walked up the stairs to the rest of you, hugging his apparent wife.

Then suddenly, you were nudged by the person next to you, looking down to see their hand outstretched. You quickly realized what was going on and grabbed it. And then amidst all the fury, you brought your hands up together. Yes, they wanted you to kill each other, but you were all united in the same fight first.

It became obvious that Caesar couldn’t contain the crowd’s indignation any longer, so the anthem played, increasing in volume to try and drown them out, but your actions were still so much louder than words. 

That’s when the lights cut out.

But it would be a lot harder for the Capitol to snuff out the spark you all lit.

While you all did your best, your efforts appeared to be futile. Snow wasn’t against killing children, so you supposed that you all should’ve known better than to think that he’d cancel The Games for Everdeen’s baby.

However, it wasn’t completely useless. You had the public’s support. Sponsors wouldn’t be hard to get, so at least that was something. But all in all, The Games were still happening. One winner. Twenty-three of you would be dead, and you were going to be one of them.

Your last Games, you were relentless, selling your soul to stay alive. And you were gonna do it all over again, but this time, your objective wasn’t staying alive at all. It was making sure Finnick could make it home to Annie. 

Lying there in Finnick’s arms that night for what could possibly be the last time, you realized that you would die without ever having been loved by someone. You were with Finnick, and you loved him, but he didn’t love you back.

These last few days, you had been consumed by fire, knowing that you would burn everything down if it meant your lover would be safe, but it was like it was just hitting you that you’d been warming yourself up with a flame that wasn’t ever really yours.

You knew without a doubt that Finnick Odair was your soulmate.

But you weren’t his.

Tears pooled into your eyes at the thought, and so you quickly buried your head into his chest before a panic attack could came on. You calmed down to the sound of his heartbeat, the heartbeat that you personally would make sure didn’t stop until he was old and his hair was grey.

The next day was a blur between the hovercraft, having the trackers injected into you, and then being separated from Finnick. The only thing you really could remember was how he kissed your cheek before he left.

And then you were in the tube, rising up into the arena. You couldn’t get a good look at it. Every time you blinked, your Games flashed before your eyes. Sun, cold, dirt, blood, screaming, murder.

You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes as the announcer counted down. Pull yourself together, Y/N, you thought.

And then The Games begun.

Taglist: @honestlycasualarcade

[nanaminsmoon]

Good morning!!!! I love your blog so much!!!!💗🫶🏾 Your writing is amazing???

Baby daddy Choso????

thank you so much!!! but thanks for requesting this fren bc i love this so much🤭

𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. (𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

cw: pnv, unprotected sex, oral (f + m receiving), choking (f+m receiving), spit kink, choso calls reader; 'baby' and 'baby girl', this man is a masochist lowkey, yeah this is a lil nasty

wc: 3858

your twins loved their dad; excited feet would scamper their way to your bedroom, three hours earlier than usual, every friday because they knew it’d be the day they’d see him. and you guys had a routine: you got them ready in the morning, took them to school, then choso’d pick them up, and they'd be his for the weekend.

© Rights owned by nanaminsmooninc. Do not repost without permission.

and, during those 48 hours, there was no beach far enough, nor park busy enough, for choso because he would take his girls wherever they wanted to go. every week, pinkie promises to not tell you about staying up later than rules would allow were made between the trio. then, come sunday morning, the girls would be impatiently jumping into your arms, as soon as you opened your door—usually with some playful change in their appearances. yet this particular one would cause your forehead to crease in confusion,

”what's on my daughter's face?”, you’d ask, once the girls were of earshot. immediately, choso knew what you were talking about but he’d play dumb just to irk you.

”eyes, eyelashes, eyebro—”, he’d start listing, and you’d interrupt him.

”no, dickhead, the thing over her nose”, you clarified and he’d inwardly rejoice at his success at annoying you.

”oh. she saw my tattoo and said she wanted one, so i just got her a little temporary one”, he’d explain, eyes trained on the twins as he waved back at them while they ran around the house.

”and when she wants it for real?”, you’d poke at his chest, and his hand would rise to hold the spot your fingertip had touched as he faked a pained expression.

”i don't know how reckless you think i am, but i'm not gonna tattoo a six year old”, he’d scoff, but his amusement would fall to flatten quite quickly.

as hard as choso tried to fan the hurt fogging his mind, it just wouldn’t leave him. choso could be denounced for his work over, and over, again and he’d bounce back because he was so confident and sure of his abilities. but jabs at his skills as a father never failed to pinch at his heart. people would spend an hour with him, then start to question his parenting abilities based off the way he looked and his reserved manner. the prickling in his chest didn’t come from insecurity, but from sensitivity to reminders of the same baseless assumption. especially coming from someone he deemed to be the perfect parent,

”why do you keep doing that?”, he’d look at you earnestly, and confusion would force your eyebrows together.

”doing what?”,

”making me out to be this bad influence.”,

”maybe it’s because you run around with cancer sticks behind your ears”, you pulled the cigarette from behind his ear, and shoved it in his pocket.

”aside from that. you treat me like i'm gonna corrupt the girls.”, he paused, ”you treat me the way your parents treated me”, due to his appearance and impassive demeanour, most people around you had opposed your relationship with choso. your friends warned he’d be a terrible father, and your parents mistook how reserved he was for coldness, and arrogance. outwardly, he seemed inattentive, rude, and aloof but choso didn’t care because the most important people in his life understood him. he was his daughters’ best friend, protector, and joint number one on their list of favourite princesses to join their tea parties—the other being you.

no matter how many years passed, you’d always love choso. though you weren’t together anymore, the need to defend him against those who misunderstood him had never dissipated. so to hear that you had become one of the people you had spent almost a decade trying to quieten, lunged your heart into your throat.

”choso, i'm so sorry. i didn't know i was being—”, you’d start to apologise, but you’d be quickly interrupted. penitence sunk all your features in a way choso couldn’t ignore; he knew you had no malintent with your words, and he didn’t want you to beat yourself up over it.

”nah, it's cool.”, he waved you off, ”i get it, but you know me. you know i love them to death and i'd never encourage anything that i knew would hurt them. but anyways, i guess i'll go now, i'll see you on frida—”, he’d been stood in the doorway and, as he began to step backwards to leave, your hands would clasp one of his. he’d be visibly surprised, but his feet would still be ladened to their spot.

”let me make it up to you”, you'd propose, and intrigue would raise choso’s eyebrow.

you’d always known there were benefits to your best friend being your neighbour, and today would be the day you’d reap one of them. after instructing choso to sit and wait on the couch, you’d gather the girls’ stuff and take them next door. you’d come back to choso still sat where you had left him, legs spread and large hand dwarfing his phone. the urge to jump on his dick right then and there was stronger than you would’ve liked, but you’d keep composed. even under his fervent glare as he watched you take your shoes off. there’d be a moment of waiting once your eyes met, then you’d beckon for him to follow you. choso’s curiosity was eating away at him, but if there’s one thing he had learnt during your time together it was that he was not to question your plans. even as he realised you were leading him to your bedroom, he’d just scoff to himself and continue trailing you.

once at the door, you’d open it and hold it for him to go in. and, chuckling, he’d enter the room, chills already running down his spine at the way those four walls boxed him into your scent, and swathed him in it. his back being turned to you allowed choso to shamelessly close his eyes, and take it all in. he’d only be brought back to reality by the clicking of the door lock.

”the fuck are you doing?”, he laughed as he turned around.

”making it up to you, now sit.”, he'd raise his hands in surrender, before he’d sit on the edge of the bed, eyes narrowed as he watched you saunter your way towards him.

one thing led to another, and you went from kissing and licking at choso's bulge through his boxers to having his dick throat deep inside you. during your relationship, head had been one of choso’s favourite things. he’d even claimed that, had your pussy not been so good, he’d like head more than sex. there were never enough words to explain it but, to him, there was nothing that drove him crazier than the sight of your eyelashes batting up at him as you took all of him into your mouth, nose tickling his pelvic bone. and, busy with his tattoo studio, choso didn't have a lot of time to date so he couldn't remember the last time he felt a woman's throat enclose around his tip the way yours did. his toes were damn near gripping at the carpet through his socks, as his fingers dug into the duvet. though their one wish was to be entangled in your tresses, scratching at your scalp when you swallowed around him, choso hadn’t forgotten that the reason you had asked him to drop the girls off two hours later than usual, was because you were getting your hair done. so he'd refrain for an entire two seconds, fingers contracting around nothing, before he'd just ask,

”can i put—fuck—my hands in your h—shit, y/n—hair”. and another low ’shit’ would leave his lips when you'd pull him out of your mouth to show him the lewd mix of your saliva and his precum leaking out your lips.

”’f you fuck it up, then you gotta pay for me to get it redone”, you tilted your head to run his length against you lips, and choso’s hands were on your head immediately.

”yes, ma’am”, he moaned out.

though you had been broken up for five years, the mutual sexual attraction between you two had never dwindled, so you two fucking post-breakup was inevitable. that being said, choso hadn't nutted in you in almost two years and he didn’t want the first time in 24 months to be in your mouth. that’s what his heart wanted, but his body would have other plans. head wasn’t just about the feeling for choso, the man loved a performance. knowing this, you’d pull him out of your mouth to allow a string of spit and precum hang from your lips, letting it land on his length again just so you could use it as lube to stroke him a few more times.

”you can’t do shit like that, y/n, i’ll nu—”, his strained voice tried to explain, but it’d be cut short by more of your antics. one second your lips would be around his balls, then the next they'd be damn near touching his pelvic bone, as you took him into your throat again. he'd raise his hand to place it on your forehead,

”w-wait, y/n i'm gonna—fuckfuckfuckfuck—baby, wait i'm gonna cum”, he'd warn, but you'd just take that as a signal to keep hallowing your cheeks and taking him into your throat. the pleasure delayed his reflexes, so choso wouldn’t be fast enough in pulling his dick from your mouth; most of his nut would be inside it and, as you let his dick slip from your lips, he’d get some on your cheek, chin and nose too. the tip of your middle finger would collect some of it, and put it in your mouth, eyes locked with his as you did so.

”i forgot how fucking nasty you are”, he'd chuckle before flopping backwards to face the ceiling, as he just laid on his back.

choso’s love for head wasn’t limited to just receiving, because one of his life’s finest pleasures resided between your legs.

”i just need to get you ready f’r me, baby”, would be his response when you told him he didn’t need to reciprocate. but the truth was, choso luxuriated in the way you grabbed at his hair and closed your thighs around his head—the near suffocation was the closest to heaven he thought he’d ever get. he loved the way your body didn't know what to do with itself, squirming underneath the cold metal of his tongue, and lip, piercing. yet, nothing could dethrone the way the warmth of your thighs taking away all his air made his dick twitch. he'd enjoy the gratifying discomfort they brought, before he'd force your legs open again,

”you taste so fucking good, baby, i don't know how i went without this for so long”, he'd say when he came back up for a breath. his fingertips would dig into your thighs as he placed your legs on his shoulders. fingertips would soon be substituted for large palms, as choso pushed the flesh together to basically cut off his air supply. it felt sick to admit, but he loved the feeling of you essentially choking him out.

choso hadn't intended on eating you out until you came, but once he’d started, he couldn't stop. he’d lost track of time and then, all of a sudden, the feeling of your nails on his scalp was harsher. and if he wasn’t relishing in the feeling, eyes fluttering shut in enjoyment, he might’ve noticed that you were about cum a lot sooner. but he’d only catch on when your babbles became more coherent,

”chos-so, i'm-m cumming, shit”, you'd say, and when his brain finally processed those words, it'd be too late because he'd have your release all over him.

for a few moments, the only sounds audible in your room were your heavy breathing and the sound of choso licking your arousal off his fingers. the glisten of the inside of your thighs would catch his attention, and he’d move to remove them of their shimmer. the feeling of the metal on your skin would coax a jolt out of you, before you’d be backing away from his mouth to sit up and face him. the man looked depraved; hair a mess, and face shining, as he just smirked at you.

the shirt covering your top half would be off, as well as choso’s shirt and boxers. and, seeing your bare body for the first time in years was having visible effects on choso—he was stunned.

”wow”, he said, in a whisper, reaching to hold you but you’d pushed his shoulder.

”what?”, you giggled, and he just shook his head so as to not make you feel embarrassed.

”no, i just…i forgot how beautiful you are”,

”shut up, bruh”, you'd playfully roll your eyes, before pulling at choso’s arm to switch your positions. his interest would be piqued yet again, and you'd quell it with a sloppy kiss to his lips. you’d mount choso to sit at the bottom of his abdomen, and his hands landed on your hips. they'd help you ride the ridges of his toned stomach, taking note of how you moaned into his mouth as your juices smeared all over his lower torso.

you'd soon shift yourself, sliding down his length and choso wouldn’t be able to see much of it because his eyes rolled to shut once he felt you wrap around him. hands placed on his broad chest, you'd move up and down on him and his tatted fingers would dig into your hips. choso’s pleasure was visceral, and he almost wanted it to stop before he got too attached and refused to let it end as he had many times before. when you and choso fucked, you did so for hours because you were both relentless. yet, as good as this felt, choso was ashamed to admit that something was missing.

”this is all for me, right?”, he'd ask breathily, hands stilling you. it’d be hard to formulate thought, because you were just paused with his dick deep inside you. but you'd manage a shabby attempt at a nod.

”well, can you…”, choso’d pause, eyes wandering around the bed, and his uncertainty would make you anxious. when it came to sex, you two had always been honest, and open to try anything. so if it made him cautious, then it was one of two things; something he’d been wanting for a while, or something completely left field.

“could you choke me?”, he'd ask, and your once lidded eyes would be widely staring back at him.

”like…?”, you'd raise your hand, and both of his would engulf it, leading it to his neck.

”this.”, he looked you in your eyes, and your hand grew firmer, ”and just keep it there”, he'd instruct, and you'd nod, before starting to move again.

though new to you, you began seeing the appeal of choking choso very quickly. mainly because of the way his eyelids would flutter, as his eyes rolled to shut, just by virtue of feeling your hand on his neck. not to mention the way his hips would move on their own to rut into you, every time your thumb and middle finger tightened around his throat. he may have been larger than you in stature, but choso was completely under your control. both the tightness of your walls, and the feeling of your hand around his neck—sweat making it hard for you to move while maintaining a secure grip on him—was making him delirious. and he never wanted it to stop.

choso's mouth was making any noise it could muster to express how good he was feeling. he went from quietly cursing under his breath, to just shouting cuss words at you. you weren't far from your nut either; due to both the view and the way his dick’s chase for more pleasure, made choso fuck into you harder. the feeling made your thighs weaken but, ultimately, choso would be the first to let go,

”where d’you want it?”, he asked, and your hand would remain on his neck as you leaned down to speak to him.

”nut in me, choso”, you’d whine, lips latching onto his neck to kiss it. the combination of the sultriness of your voice and your lips attacking the most sensitive spot on his neck, would’ve been enough but choso completely lost it when he’d feel a sting as you marked his skin. he'd cum underneath you, hips stuttering upwards to prolong the pleasure he was feeling. all choso could do was cuss, and dig his trimmed fingernails into you before just laying there, a shell of his former self.

you'd be riding him for a few more minutes, before choso’s control of his limbs would return to him, then he’d have you laid underneath him. no further words would be exchanged before he was slamming into you, silver chains dangling in your face and his hand on your throat, as he fucked you with vigor. as amazing as the opposite had felt, choso much preferred this version of things. he preferred looking down at you as your eyes fluttered and rimmed with salty displays of euphoria, he’d even lean down to lick one as it ran down the side of your cheek. choso indulged in the way you'd grab his forearm as strong as you could, sanguine crescents colouring in the empty spaces in his tattoos. he'd lean down to suck on your nipples, nipping at them just so he could hear the raising in pitch your moans and whines would do when that sensation coursed through you. his eyes would flicker down to the white froth collecting at the base of his dick, as his nut was pushed out of you with his every thrust.

”you're doing this all for me, right?”, he'd ask, and you'd nod, ”this fucked out all for me. taking this dick so good just for me”, he'd say, lips once again around your nipples.

choso wasn't letting up; his pace was merciless, as he fucked you dumb. most times you had fucked, choso would slow down, or pull out, when that familiar constriction of your walls told him you were close. he'd do it until you were crying and begging underneath him, voice growing excrutiatingly hoarse. but, seeing as you already had tears in your eyes, he'd only do it once before he'd just maintain a harsh rhythm as you came around him.

”choso, fffuck”, you cried out, but he'd just keep going. his eyes were so focused on the silhouette of his dick moving in and out of you, as your stomach contracted, that he'd lost all sight of where he was. you could've told choso he was jupiter and the man would've believed you. he couldn't even remember why you guys had started fucking in the first place, all he knew was that he didn't want to stop. to choso, thinking about anything that wasn’t you was a waste of brain power. so he'd turn his brain off and let his body do whatever it wanted to. even if it meant overstimulation for the both of you.

your third nut would be pretty imminent, seeing as choso literally would not stop moving inside of you. but it'd be unlike the others,

”choso, g-gimme a s-second”, you'd say, and he'd shake his head because he knew what you were doing. choso knew your body, and he knew it well; he knew what you were trying to prevent well enough to know that it was the very thing he was striving for,

”you said you doing all this for me, baby.”, he'd remind you, ”’nd i wanna see you make a fucking mess on my dick.”, his words would do nothing but edge you closer to your nut.

”can you do that f’r me?”, he’d ask, and you’d nod your head.

”just f’r me?”, he’d ask, voice laboured, ”i don’t deserve you, baby”, he’d pout before moving down to connect your lips.

and, under his instruction, you’d just let that funny little feeling near your bladder do whatever it wanted to. one of your hands would be struggling to wrap around choso’s wrist, while the other would be gripping the sheets for dear life. the hand choso had placed on your neck would remain stagnant, movement only reserved for the other as it moved to your clit. worries about you moving because of how fast, and hard, he was fucking you were nonexistent because the sweat covering your body meant that you were adhered to the fabric underneath you. choso's tatted fingers would rub on your bud until you came on them, practically spraying him with your release.

a low chuckle would leave choso's mouth at the endearing view of you trying to calm your body down. heavy breaths would slither past your lips, but your eyes remained closed. choso’s hand would plant a light slap to your cheek to wake you back up, but it'd be to no avail. so he’d try once more, this time, grabbing your chin to shake your face until your eyes opened.

”say ‘ah’, baby girl”, he'd ask, and you'd open your mouth as wide as your slack jaw would allow. a line of spit would fall from his lips to your tongue before you'd swallow it, and he'd smirk to himself.

”didn’t even have to tell you what to do”, he’d snicker, and you’d smile contently up at him. the woman choso was seeing was so unlike the one he had met so many years ago, and he dreaded to think that the sweet glint in your eyes had bittered because of him. however, that dread would quickly fade and, in its place, would be a knowing smirk,

”shit, maybe i am a bad influence.”

[kmt123whatsthetea]

The Big Book of Desires

George Weasley x reader x Fred Weasley

Requested by: @gdogcat1

Request gist: “The twins find their wife’s dirty fantasy book and surprise her”

A/N: Thanks for the request! Sorry it's taken so long to write. Because no kinks were specified, I decided to pick some at random. I also focused on the marriage aspect and went for a ‘Reader feels the mundaneness of marriage and twins surprise her’ fic.

T/W: Fred being a bad influence on George and his sweet mind, Snooping, Daddy kink, Master kink, Blindfolding, Bondage, Edging, Unprotected sex

Married life with the twins was how you'd always expected it to be. Sure, it was an amazing time in your lives, but the day was starting to go the same as the day before.

Wake up, work in the shop, make dinner, sleep, then wake up and repeat the day again.

The twins could tell that something was up with you. You weren’t as affectionate as before, you weren't as cuddly in bed, you didn’t kiss them before work. Something was wrong, and they vowed to find out. The twins came back to the flat after a long shift, one that you had off, and noticed something new. A new book that your eyes were glued to. Sure, you liked to read and owned most of the books on the bookshelf, but this was new.

The title read “The Fire of Love and Romance” in fancy writing. The woman on the cover was in nothing more than underwear with a man standing over her in a shirt and grey waistcoat. The twins exchanged a look of confusion. Compared to the other books you owned, this was an anomaly. When you noticed the twins, you quickly set the book down and got up to greet them and ask about their day.

A few days had passed and you were still reading that book, or better yet, you were still reading the same chapter. It was Fred who came up with the idea first.

“Tonight when she falls asleep, we’ll take a look and see what she’s reading. It's just a book, what are you so worried about, George?”

The ever practical George scoffed at his brother's idea.

“It's our wife’s property, we shouldnt be snooping. It just feels wrong. Can’t we just ask her about it?”

George knew the answer already because he knew you. You’d brush it off, make some excuse on the spot. That was one thing that Fred loved about you, your ability to lie so easily (which worked in their favour back when teachers would ask you who gave Filch puking pastilles). George sighed softly and relented.

The plan went ahead, and the twins waited till you fell asleep before taking a peek in your precious book. They didn't know what to expect, but they didn't expect this.

“Michael looked down at his new submissive, admiring her soft breaths. He trailed his hand down her supple skin and over her lace covered breasts. He watched as she shuddered and let out soft moans”

“Be a good girl for Daddy”

The twins looked up from the page simultaneously before looking back down, the action almost comical. They were shocked to say the least, but horny as hell.

As if fate whispered in your ear, you stirred. When you saw the book in the hands of your husbands, you sat up quickly and tried snatching it back. Fred held it out of reach to keep reading while George moved beside you. George kept his voice soft.

“I'm sorry, love. We shouldn’t have gone through your book. We’ve just been so worried about you”

Fred was less soft.

“Do you like this kind of stuff, pretty girl?”

Both you and George looked at Fred, confused at the new nickname. George caught on to his brother's little idea and turned back to you.

“You want us to take care of you, baby?”

“Yes Georgie, please”

Fred didn't seem as pleased with your answer as his brother did.

“That's not his name. Address him properly, baby”

Your cheeks blushed a dark shade and you gulped nervously.

“Yes Daddy”

George smirked at your response, his cock twitching in his boxers at the word. You always had a way of making mundane words sound so heavenly. Fred put the book back on the nightstand and stalked towards you, his signature smirk looking predatory.

“I need a title too, love. Can't let Georgie have all the fun”

“Yes Master”

Boy twins seemed pleased with their new titles, almost like they had just been knighted by a fair princess.

Fred walked over to the drawer and to retrieve two ties. He brought them over to you and secured one over your eyes, making you vulnerable to their next move. The other tie bound your wrists together, which Fred then attached to the bed frame.

Both men stood over you, admiring you. You heard George whisper to Fred and footsteps before feeling hands on your thighs, pushing your legs apart. The mattress dipped one the other side of you. Your nightie was pushed up, leaving your underwear and the slowly growing wet patch visible.

“Look how wet she is, needy girl”

A hand pulled your underwear to the side and ran something along your wet slit. When you felt something cold against your clit, you knew what it was. A small metal bullet vibe that the twins bought you.

When the vibrations started, your hips bucked involuntarily. No matter how much you squirmed, a pair of hands held your hips down and your legs open. The vibrator was held steady on your clit, giving you no escape.

“You can take it, pretty baby. Are you gonna be a good girl for us?”

Although you and the twins had been a trio for years and you could tell them apart in an instant, the blindfold mixed with your pleasure filled mind made them sound identical to you.

“Yes Master, Yes Daddy”

The twins were pleased with your words and the vibrator was pressed more firmly against your clit. Your moans filled the room, the blindfold seemingly heightening your senses. When your moans got louder, Fred turned to George.

“Should we let her cum, Georgie?”

“She’s been a good girl, but is more fun to watch her squirm”

Fred pulls the vibrator away, both men revelling in your whines. George couldn't wait any longer and made his move, kneeling between your legs. He pulled his cock from his boxers and lined himself up with your entrance. He pushed in until he was balls deep. Fred kept a hold of the vibrator, ready to keep teasing you with it.

George started moving his hips, thrusting his cock deep inside of you each time. He moved his hand to your face, cradling your cheek.

“I think you deserve a reward for being such a good girl”

With a nod to Fred, the vibrator was back on your clit. You threw your head back, your orgasm approaching quicker since your last one was ripped away.

“Cum, pretty girl”

That permission from one of the twins had you letting out a cry of relief, your orgasm pulling you under. Your walls convulsing around Georges cock caused his band to snap, his orgasm catching him by surprise. His cum filled you up, leaking out when he pulled his cock out.

Fred worked to untie you and remove the makeshift blindfold. He stroked the hair from your face, his touch soft.

“Such a kinky little wifey”

[cvnt4him]

..............................................

It doesn't make any sense to him, really.

How did you, the same person he, not that'd it even come up in conversation, helplessly.... 'massaged' himself a little too 'roughly' until he blew his load, how did you have him like this? You were towering over him on his bed as he held your hips, bucking into you, god he needs you so bad. You felt that and you ate it up. You loved the fact he needed you.

The room was filled with hot breaths and moans accompanied by groans and whines occasionally, it was a little misunderstanding really, you had never intended to get the #1 hero all hot and bothered while spending the day with him for your little vlog.

"SPENDING THE DAY WITH THE #1 HERO!!!"

The title of your YouTube video, you just wanted to meet him is all, and when he dm'd YOU, for a colab? You were over the moon!! You'd wanted to meet him for so long!! Maybe at a meet n greet, or some kind of convention, or anything else but no, he wanted to colab with you.

You were in another state at the time, filming in case you have some kind of posting material, when he told you you'd be flying in his very own private jet??? Yeah what kind of Wattpad fanfic is this?? This doesn't just happen in real life, and yet it did, to you.

The way he hugged you for the first time like he loved the warmth you aid to him, like your body was just what he needed, craved. God if only you knew what slutty dirty things he did to himself thinking of you that night, you'd be so disgusted in him!!

Or would you?

That question was all that clouded poor zuzus thoughts as he studied and observed you very closely as you spent your time together.

"we'll be staying in my penthouse! It's pretty big so you can have your own room until I fly you back out to New York!! If that's alright with you, of course."

He spoke to you in the sweetest, calmest, voice ever, his words so hypnotic, he hadn't realized you'd practically been under his spell for so long, this really was the dream, meeting your celebrity crush, STAYING WITH HIM?? You're sleeping, in his very own house. penthouse, that is.

You two played games, watched movies, and you asked him questions his very own fans would've loved to have known. And he shared every detail with you, with pure utter truth laced in his words. Everything he told you was true, because he felt he couldn't lie to you. You were so pure!! Such an angel! You didn't deserve to be lied to or harmed, ever!

"and that was 'spending the day with izuku midoriya'!!' you say as you end your video with your normal 'like n subscribe' shit and turn your camera off sighing at how much footage you'll have to edit and keep to yourself, but hey at least you got a day with your husband out of it!!

He looked at you, observingly, as you sigh and out your hand in the back of your neck in a tired sense.

"man you don't know how tiring it really is being an influencer, haha!" You joke.

He chuckled lightly, gaze still locked on you, your hands, how much smaller they are in comparison to his, how soft they are, how well you'd please him with them.

He really didn't want his mind going there with you, honest! It was never his intentions!! But how could he help himself? You were just so mesmerizing, corrupting. Izuku had never been such a pervert before he'd looked at your beautiful face!

So really, these thoughts, his growing erection that painfully twitches behind his zipper, the amount of precum leaking from his already needy and ready cock, it's your fault. All your fault.

If you hadn't looked so good, spoke to him with a honey like voice, with such a sultry tone, he wouldn't have gotten these thoughts! He wouldn't have gotten this hard.

So yeah, when he stood and glided behind you and put his hands on your shoulder, rubbing and massaging the tense area, causing a low moan to rip right out of you, which he heard and accepted, there was no way, in any way, any if this could even remotely be his fault!

He was just giving you what he knew you needed, a nice relaxing massage. Like the one he gave himself 2 weeks ago listening to the sound of your drunken voice and slurred words as you fan girls over meeting him, how much you loved his suit and how sexy you really thought he was, it's a shame you hadn't actually gotten to see him in his hero suit much today, maybe some other time!

He continued to massage you little whimpers escaping you from the rough yet gentle motions of his heavy, warm, hands, the way his hands trailed up to your neck then back down to your shoulders, it felt so amazing, you couldn't help but close your eyes and let him control you.

You hadn't realized it at first, but this slut really was pressing his oh so hard cock right up against your back, and he.. was he moaning?

The sounds of this grown adult man, whimpering lightly above you, grinding his weeping cock, against your back like some teenaged virgin, made your eyes shoot wide open, you didn't move, you say there, listening and being patient to assure this was what was actually happening.

Once you were sure, you quickly whipped your body around to look at him with a smirk, he jumped in confusion and terror, he was so afraid that you had caught onto what he was doing, and you did.

You scoffed, and looked him up and down, eyes trailing back down to his hard on them widening at the heavy amount of precum that left his still twitching cock.

Damn, well at least you knew his cock was thick and strong enough to make his pants move along with his cock.

"had you really thought I didn't notice the way you were grinding against me like a slut?"

He whimpered opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish. It was never his intentions!!! Honest!! Why won't you believe him! This is your fault anyways!! Take responsibility!

He thought of what he wanted to say, opening his mouth before being completely shut down by you, as you laughed out loud at the sight in front of you, his eyes were glossy, his cock was still twitching, and his hair was slightly messy, was he really gonna cum against your back?

"wow, I idolized a hero, a man known for his big bright smile, a smile that could save a man's life. And yet, here he is, rubbing his disgusting cock against his acquaintance, not even, technically a business partner. I never knew you were such a dirty, pathetic, slut."

He looked at you in horror, fuck. He really was a slut. And damn did it get him so hot and bothered when you called him one, the way you spat venom with each word that left your beautifully glossed lips, a smirk still painted upon your features, and you scoff once more.

He looked as if he was gonna cry, really he did, you laughed at that.

"are you really gonna cry because I caught you, being a dirty whore? God, you really are pathetic."

You laughed again, but you hadn't known, the real reason he was gonna cry was because, yeah sure, he was humiliated and embarrassed, but he was teary eyed because he was enjoying it. He knew he was a slut, only slits enjoy being degraded in such ways, with such hurtful names, he enjoyed it so much his cock started leaking again.

You wiped a tear that left your eye from the belly laugh you just had, as you sigh with a smile still on your face, you look at him in his eyes as he instantly looked away, covering his face with his arm.

"This is your fault.."

He said to you, in the softest, sluttiest, shakiest voice he could muster up.

It really was pathetic you almost busted out laughing again, but you'd thought you'd spare him the extra embarrassment.

You were curious on what he meant by 'your fault'.

"whatever do you mean, midoriya?"

You ask blessing him with the beautiful sound of you calling him by his last name.

He couldn't even look at you, let alone speak. He sighed, arm still covering his red, sweaty, freckled face.

So he asks himself again, how did you, manage to get on top of him, stroking his leaky, dribbling cock as he moans and writhes underneath you, you had demanded he tie himself up with black whip and he obeyed without a word. He needed this and you loved that.

You had been edging him for an hour now, he hadn't came but he felt like he could, all he wanted to do was cum for you, all he wanted was to please you, be inside of you!

You were really bullying and torturing him for basically defending himself against your forceful will. You were the one who started rubbing your neck as your shirt draped off of your shoulder.

You did this to him, and yet he's being punished? It wasn't fair! He didn't deserve to be edged and tortured by your, just as predicted, soft, smaller than, hands, the way you held his thick cock with both of your hands, your fingers not being able to touch around his slightly veined length, he loved how much you enjoyed getting him off like this, hell just blatantly torturing him, so you endured it for a little while longer, for you.

His pants and boxers had been ruined with his precum, you had discarded them long ago, you rub your hands up and down his cock in painfully fast strokes, it hurt so bad all he could do was sob underneath you and arch up into your touch.

His leaky cock just wouldn't stop leaking, giving you more precum every time you gave his pretty glossed cock a full stroke, you rubbed the tip of his cock repeatedly, rubbing and smearing his sticky precum around the head of his cock, earning a loud whine from him, he was putty in your pretty, manicured hands.

"do you want it, big boy? Does my big strong man need it? Need to cum?~" you tease and coo to him in a baby like voice, with pouty lips, laughing at his reactions to this, he nodded eagerly with little 'yes please's and 'mhm!'s leaving his plump lips that had been chewed to the point its practically numb.

You continued your fast strokes before pulling both your hands away laughing at his body leaning forward for your touch, the sobs and heavy tears that leave his body are genuinely so cute.

He wanted to cum so badly, he needed it! How could you be so cruel!

"please.. please! Let me.. make me cum!! Mommy~..."

He whined with a string of pleas leaving his mouth as he sobs helplessly begging for the release he needed, he could taste, he just needed you to get him there.

Oh?

That's new? And actually, oddly fucking hot, you'd never been called mommy before, you actually fucking liked it.

"what's that, pretty boy?"

He hadn't meant for it to slip! It just did! He felt far too good in the given moment and had to beg for his release which you still haven't graced upon him.

He whined and looked away, you scoff and think, how will you get him to call you mommy again?

Oh, that's right, bargaining!

"alright, midoriya, let's make a deal. You call me mommy again, no, beg for me, whilst calling me mommy, and I'll let you come, promise."

He listened, he liked the way that sounded.

He gulped down hard, look at you with those big die eyes of his, batting away tears threatening to spill from him, as he sighed shakily.

"please... mommy?" Was all he gave, his voice whispered as he looked up at you with tired pleading eyes,he sighed frowning deeply as he was sticky in sweat and his own pre, his cock still twitching and aching, he needed it but he wasn't going to make you give it to him, he truly was a good boy!!

You sighed, satisfied with what he'd given you, and you finally, granted him with the sweet relief of cumming his brains out, which he did, beautifully as he shook and turned and sobbed begging for the sweet release while you stroked his cock in a hurried pace, you were glad you'd given him the sweet and savory release he needed.

"good boy."

Was all you said as he rolled his eyes back and shot thick, white, planks of his hot white cum all over your hands, shirt, and all over his own chest, he always came a lot, so this was expected from him, however you, you hadn't expected there to be this much, and hell he was stilk cumming, little drips of his white seed still spilling from his overstimulated, twitching, cock now softening in you palm as you petted his thick girth it lying limp in your hand.

He sighed in relief, he'd finally cum and was spent, all he wanted now was to cuddle the cause of his explosion of an orgasm.

Which you granted, you hadn't expected to start dating after this, but you'd better believe you'd be meeting like this again. He vowed that he'd bend you over every surface he had to, to get you obsessed and brain dead with his cock, it belonged to you.

..............................................

AN; I feel like this is pretty good, now that I'm for the most part well rested and not in a mood, I think I wrote this well enough! Enjoy babes<33

Taggies!!; @lovelykil, @heromissy, @v3n7s, @lily-sinclair-2006

[artificial-transmutations]

Idea: My fantasy is to be forcibly transformed from a young, affluent, VERY clean, well-educated, well groomed, well dressed white corporate executive into a VERY dirty uneducated garbageman. I must be forced to surrender my corporate career, my car, my office, my name, my money, my expensive formal business suit and tie, my wristwatch and polished black dress shoes and even my dress socks, along the way to my new real life.

Boardroom to trash bins

You glance at the golden watch on your left wrist and decide to walk a little faster.

You are not late - yet - but the board meeting is too important to be late to. Of course, on the other hand, you can't walk so fast that you would break a sweat. The thought alone of arriving at meeting room with beads of sweat on your forehead or, God forbid, a damp spot on your dress shirt is even worse than coming a minute or two late. That, at least, you can blame on the traffic, which is not even wrong. Your expensive German car has been stuck behind a garbage truck for a good ten minutes. Inacceptable, of course. You would expect the city to schedule such annoying but probably necessary services at night, when there is no traffic that could be slowed down by it.

After all, you have a reputation to uphold! You are Jameson Pierce, son of the millionaire and successful investor James Pierce. You are also the owner and CEO of one of the most prominent investment companies, Pierce&Co.

You have the best business education money can buy and your decisions influence the fate of thousands of employees of yours. You don't arrive late to board meetings like that!

Still, there is no reason to get agitated yet. If the lift is free, you will arrive perfectly on time.

As you quickly make your way over the office parking lot that is being overshadowed by the 50 story skyscraper you own, you almost collide with an old man in a blue uniform, who is blocking the way into the building by picking up refuse from the ground. Apparently, the wind has knocked over the garbage can next to the entrance, and all the contents have scattered on the pavement. The old man is just bending down to pick up the cans and garbage bags and put them back in the bin.

"Out of the way!" you blurt. Usually, you are nicer to your employees by just curtly ignoring them, but this old man is blocking your way and moves slow as a snail.

"Of course, sir, right away!" he says with a toothless smile, and you almost gag. The old man is disgusting! He looks as if he has been sleeping on the street, and the smell of booze emanating from him makes that assumption very likely. You briefly wonder if he even works for you and decide that if so, he needs to be disciplined for his appearance.

However, you are interrupted by his next sentence.

"I just need to pick up all that garbage here. You could help, sir, that would make it quicker."

What? This filthy old drunkard dares to ask you for help? The audacity!

"Out of my way!" you repeat and push the old man aside. You are now standing directly in front of the revolving door, ready to enter your company's building. Behind you, you can hear the old man mumbling something and then start cackling, like a maniac.

You shrug it off. The man is lucky you don't have time for that right now, as you carefully navigate through the scattered items on the ground. You need to be extra careful not to ruin your thousand dollar shoes or dress pants by stepping into something sticky and foul-smelling.

Even if you weren't in a hurry, there's no way Jameson Pierce would bend down to pick up garbage. You are reasonably proud to have never touched anything that has been in a bin - that's what employees are for, not managers like you.

The board meeting continues as bad as the day had started. It is way too warm in the meeting room and you can't prevent a single drop of sweat forming on your forehead. Of course, you wipe it away with your silk handkerchief and hope nobody has noticed, but that's not the only thing going wrong. Twice in your report, you find yourself at a loss of words. Instead of using the correct technical term, you have to verbally set back half a sentence and explain what you mean in simpler words. How very, very embarrassing.

It comes as no surprise that, when the meeting is finally over, you are in a particularly bad mood. Sadly, the old man from before has left, otherwise you would have fired him on the spot as a therapeutic action.

On the way to your car, you call your secretary to cancel all further appointments today, but as you try to ring the number, you just get the message that no connection could be made.

Just great. So, your office phone system has broken down as well. Angrily, you get in your car to drive over to your office yourself.

You don't get very far. Halfway on the way to your office, there is a grinding noise from the engine and then, your car just stops. Right in the middle of the street. You almost can't believe your bad luck. Angrily, you hit the steering wheel, sounding the horn in the process, but it's no use. Trying to ignore the honking from outside and the rude gestures of drivers finding their way around you, you reach into your pocket to call the car dealership. Luckily, you're well covered for such situations.

You stare blankly at the device in your hand. This isn't your cell phone. Instead of the brand new current flagship model with the big Pineapple on the back, you are looking at the cheap plastic of a no-name device with a cracked screen that is probably ten years old.

"What the...?"

You frantically search all of your pockets, but they are all empty.

You can't help but feel as if you have gone insane. No, there has to be a rational explanation. You have probably just pocketed the wrong phone when you were at the board meeting. Of course, there are immediately nagging voices in your mind that remind you that you had tried to call your office just before getting in the car, or that surely nobody at the board meeting would have such a phone, but you decide to tune them out.

Your office is now only two blocks away. There, you have your tablet with all of your contacts. You can call the car dealership to care for the car and then just end this horrible day.

You get out of the car and ignore the shouting from the other drivers. A line of cars has formed behind your expensive Mercedes, but you ignore that as well and begin to walk. Two blocks don’t sound too bad, but it is a hot day, and you feel uncomfortable quickly. You have to loosen your tie because it feels constricting around your neck. That's not the only piece of clothing feeling wrong. Your step feels heavier, and you have to scratch yourself multiple times, trying to readjust the expensive Italian dress shirt, which is suddenly not sitting right.

Finally, you arrive at your office building. You don't even want to look down on yourself. You can feel your shirt clinging to your body and you feel disgusted by your appearance. Good thing this will all be over soon.

As you approach the elevator, you notice that you don't have your wallet at the ready - you must have forgotten it at the car. Ignoring the fact that you just now have realized the lack of its weight and the fact that you never leave your wallet in your car, you go to the reception for an elevator.

The receptionist, a perfectly styled young woman, watches as you approach and smiles.

"Hello Sir, what can I do for you today?"

"An elevator to my office." you say, adding a "Please." although you don't really feel like it.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but what exactly is your office?"

You look at the receptionist dumbfounded.

"My office." You repeat slower now.

"I don't know you sir, you need to be more specific." The young woman smiles.

That's it.

"What do you mean you don't know me?!" You shout. "I own this fucking place. It is me, Jameson Pierce! Now call me an elevator and then pack your things, you are fired!"

The receptionist looks at you as if she was dealing with a madman.

"Sir, you are not in the company register and I'm sorry, but if you don't leave the premises immediately, I'll call security."

"What are you talking about? I have an office on the 50th floor, which is where I need to go!"

"You can't have an office there, sir, that is the executive offices. Now, please leave."

"Listen, girl." you lean closer, invading her space. "Call. Me. An. Elevator. Or else."

The young woman doesn't even flinch. She presses the intercom and speaks with a steady voice: "Security, there is a madman in the lobby. Please come and remove him."

"You little...", you start, but the young woman is done talking to you. Instead, she turns away and starts to file her nails, waiting for security, which arrives some seconds later.

"Good!" You address the bulky Black man in the dark security uniform. "Could you please tell the girl that I have an office on the top floor."

"I don't think so." the man replies, "But I can show you the exit. Follow me, Sir."

"No. I am the CEO. I own the company! My father James Pierce gave it to me!"

The security guard shrugs his shoulders and takes hold of your arm.

"As far as I know, Mr. Pierce has no children. Leave the premises, Sir."

"But... you can't treat me like that! Do you know who I am?"

The Black man doesn't reply, instead, he begins dragging you towards the door. Unsurprisingly, he is much stronger than you, and your expensive shoes drag over the marble tiles.

"You can't do this!" You yell. "I will sue the company! You will all lose your jobs, just watch!"

"Whatever you say, Sir." The man pushes you outside the building. You stumble a little and then turn around, but the door is already closing.

"Fuck you!" You shout after the guard.

You take a deep breath. Whatever is going on here, it's not good. What to do.

After some consideration, you decide to grab your wallet from your car and take a cab home. There, you will deal with all of this.

As you arrive at your car again, you come just in time to see it being towed away. All running behind it and shouting does not help. You almost cry as you see the towing truck disappear around a corner, along with your car, your wallet and everything else you left in there. As you turn around to leave the scene and walk home, the next disaster is already waiting for you. There is a muddy sinkhole in the sidewalk, left over from some construction work and you don't notice it until it's too late. The next moment, you find your right leg standing in stinking mud all up to your knee. You try to free your leg, of course, and it works, sort of. With a smacking noise, the mud swallows your right shoe whole and leaves you with one dirty sock.

This day can't possibly get any worse, you think, but you are wrong.

Half an hour later, you have to admit that you got lost entirely. You are in a part of the city you have not been in before. Usually, you navigate the city with your cars GPS, but that is not available. You try to use the cheap phone to find out where you are (stoically ignoring the fact that it unlocks just fine with your fingerprint) but the only thing you find is that whoever owns the device has not paid for mobile data. You are offline. You could, of course, ask someone, but it takes some courage to ask a stranger where you are, especially in your current state.

Finally, you realize that you have to ask someone if you want to get home anytime soon. Right now, you find yourself in front of a landfill, which is both a blessing and a curse. It smells absolutely disgusting, but at least the people working here should have a good idea on how you can get home.

You enter the building with the grimy walls and look around.

"Hello?", you ask into the empty room. You are just about to leave again, when a burly man comes from the back. He is at least a head taller than you and twice as broad. His clothing is dirty, and you can see tufts of body hair coming out the top of his shirt and his armpits. Absolutely revolting.

The man looks at you for a second before shrugging his shoulder.

"Whatever." he says. "What's your name, kid?"

Needless to say, you are confused. "I am Jameson Pierce. Could you please..."

However, the big man interrupts you again. "Fancy name. I'll call you Jerry, okay? Come with me, I'll show you around."

"Wh-what do you mean?", you stutter but follow the man automatically.

"You're the new hire, aren't you? Gotta say, you're pretty scrawny, Jerry. But the job has no requirements, so if you don't mind getting your hands dirty, you're gonna fit in fine. Here are the lockers. The name's Hank, by the way."

You look around. You are in a room with a dozen dirty lockers. There is a foul stench everywhere and you have to suppress the urge to gag.

"No, I'm not new here. And I don't want to work here, or get my hands dirty!" you protest, but Hank ignores your lamenting.

"It's not gonna be easy finding an overall in your size, but we have a few small ones here as well. By the way, the overalls are shared with the other boys, hope you don't mind. Ah here. Try this one."

Hank throws you an overall. It is, in theory, blue, but both your nose as well as your eyes tell you one thing: It is entirely unwashed. For days, possibly for weeks. The clothing reeks of sweat, dirt, piss and probably even more things that you don't even want to know about.

"What's wrong with you? I am not gonna wear that."

"Well, what did you think when you came here?" Hank is clearly amused. "You can't work in these clothes of yours, even if they are dirty enough. Come on, strip, while I look for boots."

"I won't do that." you say. However, Hank is already gone. You don't think about it too much and begin to take off your expensive clothes. It is almost painful, but for some reason you... have to? It's a difficult to describe feeling. The dirty blue overall is sitting next to you on the locker room bench and is almost inviting you. You can't help it. You just have to strip. Soon, you stand in the dirty locker room clad in only your silk boxer shorts. You didn't notice that every piece of clothing you have taken off somehow changed. Your expensive dress shirt became a cheap t-shirt with stains on it. Your pants turned into a pair of ripped jeans and your golden wrist watch just... vanished.

"If I were you, I would be going commando." Hank, who had returned with a pair of work boots you can smell from over there, comments. "You're going to move around a lot. Besides, all the boys are doing it.

You look at the overall again, almost gagging now. Some other guys have worn it, rubbing their bare asses and dicks into the fabric. And Hank expects you to do the same. Suddenly, you remember the smell. Sweat, piss and other smells. You shudder. You shudder in... anticipation? As you automatically lower your boxer shorts (who turn into plain cotton briefs as you do), you can feel yourself growing hard at the thought of stepping into this dirty overall. At the same time, you are disgusted beyond measure.

Still, it's almost like your arms are on auto-pilot as you step into the overall and pull it up around your naked body, until the disgusting smell envelops you.

"Glad you like it." Hank grins and playfully grabs your very obvious erection through the dirty fabric. "You might want to meet up with some of the boys here in the locker room after shift, I hear some of them need to release some steam after a good shift. Now, come on. Pull the boots and get moving, we don't have time to waste."

You stare blankly at the big man as you realize what he just said.

"Wait." you stutter. "You think... You think I'm..."

"You're gay." Hank interrupts. "No worries. A lot of the boys are."

You can't believe what he's saying. Gay? You?

"But I am not!"

Hank doesn't even seem surprised.

"You might want to tell that to your hard cock. Anyway. Boots."

He tosses the dirty boots in front of you, and you find yourself bending down to pull them up. They are a little bit too large and feel like they are made of rubber, not leather. As soon as you have both of them on, Hank nods approvingly and then grabs you by the arm, pulling you out of the locker room and towards the garbage truck.

The next few hours pass quickly. The other men (it seems the job has exclusively male company) are friendly but don't go easy on the "newcomer". Everybody calls you Jerry and you have to do the most disgusting work you have ever done: Hauling full bins to the truck, sorting through garbage, cleaning up spilled garbage from the streets. Still, nobody is complaining and so you don't, either. After all, there are more pressing concerns: You feel dirty, your whole body is covered in a thick layer of sweat and dust. Your hands are filthy, and so is your face. And the worst part of it all is: A part of you is enjoying it, a lot. At first, the part is strictly physical. You have a boner pretty much the whole time, and whenever you need to do something especially disgusting, it visibly and violently throbs against your work pants - a fact that doesn't escape the rest of the boys.

After a while, though, more changes set in. The full bins appear to become lighter and easier to move. Of course, that isn't the case: Your muscles grow in front of your eyes, and the overall, that was a bit too big, fits better and better. Hair starts to grow on your chest, your legs and arms, and stubble forms in your face. Your carefully maintained hairstyle dissolves into an unkempt mess on your head.

But the changes don't stop there. Overall, you feel like you are getting more and more youthful. You weren't terribly old to begin with, in your mid-thirties, but a strange energy makes you feel more like end-twenties, mid-twenties and finally, like a man who just turned 21.

At the same time, however, your personality changes as well. You start to talk less and less, and when you do, the words aren't quite as sharp as before. Your education slips away with every word you say, and your vocabulary is replaced by slang, often with a bit of swearing. It becomes more and more difficult to think, too. The boys quickly pick up on this and joke around you not being the sharpest. It's not that they're wrong. You're dumb, if you're being honest. School wasn't for you, so you dropped out at some point. Bit by bit, you really become Jerry, the dumb, sweaty, smelly garbageman. And Jerry, unlike Jameson, enjoys the dirt around him. You can hardly remember being a clean and smart businessman, and that's alright with you. Even though your thoughts are slower, however, the memories of your former self are not gone entirely. Every once in a while, you remember who you used to be. But at the latest when the shift ends and you and the rest of the horny boys are going to the locker room, you decide that this is, indeed, a simpler and a better life.

There is literally a metric ton of more pictures here, in my tip jar - variations of Jerry at the end. If you like my writing, consider joining the riot page for a tip (and ocassional additional pictures)

[river-of-wine]

God it’s so unfair what they did to Molly. I know I’ve said it before but I can’t stop thinking about it. She was in love. She was young and in love and look what happened to her. She fell for a man infamous for his silver tongue, she is far from the first woman on his arm, and her only crime was believing in him. Believing in the promises he sold her and everybody else. She loved him. She loves him so much and he just didn’t care. What was she to him? A distraction? Something pretty to look at and touch when he pleased that became too much work to be worth his time? A status symbol? A pretty rich exotic bird in a cage to flaunt as he liked? A replacement? A stand in for a woman long since dead? Whatever she was, he didn’t love her. He never did. He knew he wouldn’t, he knew he didn’t, and yet there she was.

She was in love and alone in a country she didn’t know in a world that does not like her, in a gang that does not like her either, isolated from her peers by the influence of a man who does not and will not love her. Not the way she wants to be loved. A man who ignores and berates and abuses her, who belittles and complains about her every emotion, her simple asks to be spoken to, looked at, called by her first name. She is desperate for help and her attempt to reach out to somebody who may understand what she sees is wrong with Dutch is ignored. He starts looking at another woman. A younger woman. She’s already young. Not young enough for him. Not passive enough for him. Not enough for him. She says too much. She questions him too much. She asks too much for him when she tells him that she wants his respect and affection.

She knows. She sees him for who he is. No one else does. No one will listen to her. No one likes her. Some don’t mind her, of course, but they do not like her. Some pity her. They do not like her. They do not love her. He does not love her. She is a sobbing mess before him, telling him that he has ruined her life, and even then he refuses it all. She can’t leave. Where would she go? How would she live, with no skills to provide for herself and no idea where she even is beyond the imprisoning safety of camp? She is a sobbing mess every day, sleeping on the floor and talking to herself as she smokes, convinced that everyone is as bad as him, that everyone is laughing at her still. She runs away and no one cares. She flees into unfamiliar territory on foot and unarmed, and as quickly as she escapes her abuser she is captured and sweated about him, and even still, even after all he has done to her, even recalling his gang that do not like her, who she believes all hate her, she does not say a word about them. She does not betray him even after he has betrayed her. She does not put him in danger. She does not try to have him killed. She could. She does not put his gang in danger. His family that she has never been part of. People who have never been on her side. She does not betray them.

She is dragged right back the second one of them sees her, perhaps the first time she had been truly noticed in months, drunk and worn down and angry, and it’s too much now. She cannot take more of this. More of him. She can’t. She lies. She lies and he believes it. Almost all of them do. She lies. A lie they could have seen through if any had cared enough to know where she was. A bank robbery planned and failed in her presence, only in its aftermath deciding to leave. She lies and he believes her. He points his gun at her and she doesn’t care. Is that what she wanted? It does seem so, how she laughs at him. Finally winning, finally hurting him, knowing that even think it is only herself who is aware that she is making a fool of him. He’s not so big now. She lies and they shoot her and they burn her. She is shot in the back. In the stomach. There is a definite cruelty in that. It’s beyond just ridding the gang of a supposed traitor, a wound to the stomach. They shot her and they burned her. They fucking burned her. They burned this young woman destroyed by a man she loved. He destroyed her in life and they destroyed her body further. Her innocence is revealed and the very camp whose move was christened by her blood is meets the same fate, set alight, her killer’s body within. She never said a word, they learn. With every reason she had, she didn’t tell them anything. She was in love. I love Molly O'Shea

[calumfmu]

masterlist.

Steve Harrington

spread thin. (18+) You and Steve have been best friends for the entirety of your lives, always platonic and nothing more. As graduation approaches, you find yourself wishing that something would come out of this decades long friendship. During a recurring Friday movie night, you confess your feelings to him, not realizing the man had felt the same way the entire time.

bad decision, right? (18+) You were new in town, guarded from the wandering eyes of everyone in Hawkins High. You had one rule, don't overshare, even if it was at the hands of Steve Harrington, certified asshole and heartthrob of the school.

the king's reign. (18+) King Steve, the stupid nickname you had heard your entire life. The rumors, the huge ego to match. It was everything that made you hate him, especially when your best friend wouldn't shut up about him. Robin was forcing you to be friends with him, but it wouldn't stop the passion you had dedicated to wanting nothing to do with him.

sugar coated melting. (18+) Being assistant to the famous Steve Harrington wasn't an easy task, he was demanding as ever and made sure he was nice to everyone but you. But a job was a job, and it was the cost of working in Hollywood.

baby, no attachment. (18+) the 5 times Steve Harrington was an asshole to you, with the 1 time, he revealed his true self.

+blurbs

meeting drunk steve for the first time

first time with inexperienced steve

steve's mouth (18+)

+requests

steve x fuckgirl!reader (18+) (+part two)

loser!steve turned step-dad!steve (+part two)

steve stealing reader from eddie (18+) (+part two)

steve finding out you're pregnant with twins

affair with divorce lawyer!steve (18+) (+two) (+three)

traitor!steve

Eddie Munson

arms of a careful lover. (18+) You didn't know how he was, the stranger driving you home. He knew you, knew all about your life, and his picture-perfect ideal of you. As you traveled through the town of Hawkins, you couldn't help, but ask yourself 'Who The Fuck is Eddie Munson'?

+blurbs

bad influence (18+)

Steddie

i heard you liked magic. (18+) Eddie spoke often of Steve, mentioning how much he couldn't stand him, him stealing Dustin from him, being rude, so perfect in his perfect little house. You thought the feeling was mutual until you laid eyes on him, immediately understanding the tension was more than they both led on. (Steddie x reader)

+requests

steddie x reader who is playing them both (+part 2)

Felix Catton

tell me what you need. (18+) Felix was exactly what you needed to get your hands on, right here and now. Finding him in the maze was the easy part.

Sterek

whatever happens tomorrow, we had today; and I'll always remember it. (18+) Derek and Stiles meet on the day of their graduation. It's supposed to be the start of the rest of their lives, yet they can't get rid of each other, no matter how hard they both try. They weren't meant to meet that night, they weren't meant to be in each other's lives for the rest of it, yet they can't get rid of each other. Over the course of the next 15 years, they keep intersecting in each other's lives becoming the main reasons for why they keep on going.

inbox and requests are open ! xx

updated 25 may 2024 <3

[koimethehorizon]

Fionna and Cake theory: Simon the Artist

Nothing like a good old creative panic attack.

Fionna and Cake good. Haven’t been excited about a show like this in a long time, though it being a part of Adventure Time does help quite a bit. I was holding on to some cautious optimism for the show when it was announced as yet another big IP series covering the multiverse (still waiting to groan at THAT scene where Prismo has to explain to us about there being infinite universes), but as usual, Adventure Time’s crew continues to surprise me with its creativity, humor, and thematic resonance.

The most striking part about Fionna and Cake so far is just how deliberately the show wants us to differentiate it from the original Adventure Time.

We’re getting shots where Simon pops an artery from his arm, a theme song that explicitly talks about suicidal ideation, discussions of rent and financial problems, and curses no longer disguised with AT’s usual dialogue. Adventure Time has always had violence, thematic density, and juvenile rating pushers, but they were always reserved at small points. Meanwhile, these are factors that are just casually shown and discussed in Fionna and Cake every 3 minutes or so. This is not an all-ages miniseries, it’s for young adults. (hint: this will be relevant later)

Let’s get right into it. This is much less a speculative lore theory and more on what thematic direction the story may be going.

Before we do, let’s get this out of the way first. This theory assumes that the current Fionna and Cake world is all a part of Simon’s head and not merely a separate multiverse, which… I’m certain is fact for the following reasons.

The immediately obvious piece is that Fionna and Cake was always the Ice King’s fanfiction. Now if you’re versed in AT’s continuity you’re probably going to be asking about the red light in Fionna and Cake + Fionna and… I’ve no answer for it unfortunately. It’ll probably be relevant later in the series and possibly age this post like milk but for now, we’re not here to focus on the how, but the why.

Second is that the intro and the ending of Ep 2 literally show Fionna’s world spilling right out of Simon’s head like an animated world out of a frozen brain. If that isn’t clear enough-

Didn't realize this until writing, but these glasses are just plastic made to look like Betty's

There’s no other explanation for this other than that this world is artificial or influenced by Simon in some sense. Fionna even specifies that the statue went under renovation 12 years ago, but nobody seems to know who it is. Considering how Finn looks in the episode, it’s likely that it’s been that long since Betty’s sacrifice in the finale.

With that out of the way, here it goes.

The reason Fionna and Cake exist in the first place is because the creators found Natasha Allegri’s genderswap designs charming and wanted an in-universe reason to use them the Ice King wanted to create trashy, wish fulfillment through art. It was a phase.

Definitely changed that image for publishing.

Simon can argue if they’re good or bad but it’s undeniably his art. It’s not just a portfolio he left behind in a closet, it’s an experience that was shared with a larger audience.

And even if wasn’t liked at first, the citizens of Ooo seemed to have come around to it. And some of them love it!

Whether Simon likes it or not, he has a fan base that is so endeared to the story he made all those years ago that they demand he makes more. Why let a good story, loved by many, go to rest when you still have some life and creativity left in you?

Can't move on in more ways than one.

Except, the problem is that Simon isn’t Ice King anymore. He’s aged out of it.

His real passion is history, he's an adult who who finds passion in the mundane and antiques from the past. And frankly, there isn’t much room for wish-fulfillment and fantasy anymore. Simon has responsibilities. He has a job and a daughter in a world that is moving faster than he can process.

And where Ice King wrote about looking for love, Simon has already had it.

And lost it. His mind isn’t focused on the rosiness of finding new love, it’s grieving the one he already thought was the one.

Wasn't he supposed to be good with kids?

Despite his new life experiences, all his peers seem to want from him is to make more of what they’re familiar with.

A story made from wants and wishes that he doesn’t even have anymore.

A story that was literally made by someone else at a different time. It’s a fiction he cannot connect to anymore, art that he’s embarrassed by. Yet also jealous of. Because at one point, the body Simon used to be in understood what exactly was missing from his life and could express that easily.

Seeing it again is like experiencing a retrospection of a cringey loser you don’t want to imagine having ever been. It’s not you anymore, and you don’t want to be reminded of that.

Because despite him having a new creative passion, no one seems to care about that. All they want is Fionna and Cake. And what is more lonely than other people misunderstanding what you’re trying to express?

If I failed to make it clear somehow, my theory is that: Simon’s relationship with Fionna and Cake is a metaphor for creators growing out of their art. And this new Fionna and Cake world is still comfort art born out of Simon’s current desires and perceptions.

The snippet subtitles this “child holding a phone”. I guess I’m wrong. Essay over.

Episode 1 and 2 both have direct parallels with each other. They’re both about a protagonist who are feeling displaced from their world, living a phase of losing a significant other, leaving a thankless job, wearing a mask of stability in front of the people they care for, seeking a guru at the heart of the forest, and concluding that they no longer belong in their current world.

But more importantly, Fionna and Cake (the characters, the world, and the show) are no longer for an all-ages crowd. Fionna and Cake now feature young adults, curses, gore, alcohol, partial nudity, financial issues, morning routines, mid-life crisis, and overt suicidal ideation. These are the feelings that Simon relates to and possibly desires to express through art. Thus, his story and our new miniseries have warped that way.

Am I overthinking this? No. How dare you assume that.

Is equating the unconscious writings of his dementia-ridden self to Simon as his younger self seem a bit odd? ….Kinda. Again, it’s not the how but the why that matters in this case. I'm NOT crazy, I have proof that there is some acknowledgment of this directly in the show.

Rewatch the bar scene and apply this reading of the episode to what Simon says there:

“Your old stuff, Fionna and Cake, honest to glob my man, is an inspiration to me.”

“My old stuff, I don’t really want to talk about my old stuff…”

“Why not? You should be proud! You wrote an entire extended universe in a fugue state if you think about it.”

"Simon cringes"

If you have ever shared art with a group of people in the past, you’ve had this conversation.

Not likely, not possibly, no perhapses. You HAVE.

And Fionna and Cake being an epilogue to a massive award-winning, near-decade-spanning, cultural sensation 5 years after it ended, might result in its creators feeling very retrospective about what audiences want from them now.

And how difficult it’s going to be to tell new experiences and tones from what’s come before. Also, come on. “Extended Universe?” That doesn’t sound like Fionna and Cake. That sounds a lot like something else.

Again, seems bad with this kid.

One of the more profound shots in the main trailer for the show features the inconspicuously Finn-like kid crouching at her Fionna and Cake book in Simon’s trash. I believe this character is going to have a major role in two ways. Convincing Simon to be proud of what he’s accomplished and/or embracing that Simon wants to move away from his original work in order to create something new, or perhaps more likely, reinvent Fionna and Cake into what Simon relates to now.

We’ll just have to see what Simon thinks of his new Fionna next week.

PS. Talking as a fan now, WHAT IS UP WITH THE 1000+ TREEHOUSE IN THE INTRO?!!! ARE WE REVISITING THIS TIMELINE AGAIN?

SOMEONE TELL ME NOW!!!

[rachetmath]

Jaune More MC Ruby?

Ruby: That’s why I’m the MC and you're the side character.

Jaune: So because you have silver eyes you’re special?

Ruby: Yep.

Jaune: Even though I cheated Beacon.

Ruby: Yep.

Jaune: I was bullied.

Ruby: Yep.

Jaune: My partner is dead. And because I let my guard down, Ozpin died, and Oscar had no choice but to come on this journey. You know,  because of me.

Ruby: Yep.

Jaune: And because Cinder, who works under Salem killed my partner, I have beef with the main villain and her whole crew.

Ruby: Yeah.

Jaune: Salem, who I have way more in common with than most people, the deemed goddess I’m defying her, just like she did with the brothers over a loved one's death. Are you following me so far?

Ruby: … Yeah…

Jaune: Hazel, who mind you, lost his sister. He lost his sister because of the world Ozpin had created, like I did, with Pyrrha.

Qrow: She had a choice.

Jaune: A few days' choice which turned into minutes when Beacon was attacked. Then discovering how bad the situation is, you know with Salem being immortal, I almost hurt if not killed Oscar, making me at the spur of the moment,  just as bad as Hazel. And mind you I was willing to fight you on that.

Ruby: Uh… yeah…

Jaune: Tyrian, has the opposite to my semblance. Wasn’t he more interested in me than you? And you were his target.

Ruby: Mmhmm.

Jaune: Let’s talk about Cinder again. Cinder had two stray kids who followed her. I have Ren and Nora. Neither have parents. Also, we both want power but for different reasons. We even have different views on destiny.

Ruby: Oh damn.

Jaune: Atlas. Oscar did Ironwood not act like how I did in Argus but worse?

Oscar: Yeah he did. Jaune even saw Salem in person before you did.

Yang: So did we. You saw her face to face.

Oscar: I’m Ozpin. What is that supposed to mean?

Ruby: Oscar, not helping.

Jaune: Neo. We both lost our partners. The difference is that I have friends while she has none. The cat, him, and I almost have the same ability except he manipulates your soul or takes it. He might as well have been a devil version of me.

Weiss: O. Dear lord.

Jaune: Watts. … … … You know what no. He-he was no. Like he could have done better, he’s an example of being smart yet making the dumbest choices. 

Weiss: True.

In the Twilight

Watts: What?! My decision was understandable.

Ironwood: No. No, they were not.

Penny: Like you could have logically put your two weeks in and left for another kingdom. Or country. Like Vale. Mistral. Anywhere. You could have helped where you could've been needed. Which would have made you better than my father.

Watts: I wasted my life.

Back to Remnant 

Ruby: Um….

Jaune: You know what I have to ask this question. What is the moral of the story and how does your character fit into this?

Ruby: Well my-

Jaune: Let me retort. I lied. I was bullied. I had no idea about anything in the hunting world. I needed a teacher. I lost someone important to me. I have beef with the main villains. I train to get stronger to be of use to others.

Ruby: So?

Jaune: Okay. No one believed in me. But I still went to chase my goal. I lost the best thing in my life. I still moved forward. I had to kill someone. Still moved forward. I’m an old man trapped in a boy's body. Still moving forward. Fighting the odds that are stacked against me. I have seven who no one knows about. Yet your family is more interesting.

Ruby: Your point?

Jaune: The moral of the story is that no matter your circumstance you can always be better. Never allow destiny or grief to influence your entire life. No matter what odds that stand before you,  you can ultimately change your fate. And no matter the darkness a simple soul can light up the night and unite everyone against a greater evil. Even when the whole world is against you, you are never alone to endure it. If we stand united and look past our differences only then the wor;d would be a better place.

Ruby: Well my mom died at Salem’s hands.

Jaune: And?

Ruby: It's still relevant.

Jaune: You're right. But how many times has your mother been mentioned and you bothered to get information about her?

Yang: I-

Jaune: Bitch shut the fuck up. You were looking for the deadbeat mom more than the mom who stepped up.

Ruby: Well um… um…. Damn. Oh, but I-

Jaune: You weren’t the sword. I may not have known Penny as long as you, but the fact, that I could've saved her proved her death hit harder than Pyrrha's. I’m close to walking in Raven’s path.

Ruby: Shit.

Jaune: And back to your mother. She was a silver-eyed warrior. But Salem is still here. Do silver eyes work on her?

Ruby: Um.

Jaune: Because Salem is still both the brothers' creation. The old humanity. She can't be phased by the black liquid even though everything they touch decays. 

Ruby: She's immortal.

Jaune: Yeah but again when Maria told you her story didn't she try using her silver eyes on humans and it didn't work? 

Ruby: Cinder.

Jaune: Grimm arm.

Ruby: The hound. 

Blake: Silver-eyed person too but only stunned them.

Ruby: Blake.

Blake: What a minute he had animalistic ears. Should I be concerned for my people?

Jaune: Yeah… we’re not getting into that. The point is if you go see Salem and your silver eyes don't work then your mom died for nothing.

Ruby: Oo. Um…

Jaune: And let's get back to the other villains. Besides Emerald, Mercury, and Tyrian, some of them have valid reasons to join Salem. 

Ren: Jaune!

Jaune: Ren, your village got destroyed.

Ren: Nevermind.

Me: Hold up. Let me start. With Cinder, a huntsman saw what she was going through and didn't bother to help her. She was alone. The world abandoned her.  

Jaune: So Hazel was right. In fact, Raven had a point.

Oscar(Ozpin): Mr. Arc I-

Jaune: Motherfucker Hazel had every right to be angry. Dude shadow missions involve us going with experienced hunters. Yet his sister died and Ruby could’ve died. Shadowing them. Following their lead. Does that not show how bad the hunting system is? Not just that we got hunters who died in the line of duty. Not to mention how some were sexually harassing the girls.  And some of them are just plain crazy or assholes. Not to mention Blake, Qrow, and Raven. You let them in. And to make matters worse you chose Pyrrha, a first-year student, to be your maiden.

Oscar(Ozpin): She was my best option. 

Jaune: So Glynda wasn't on the table? A high-ranked fourth-year student wasn't on the table? Man, at least you could have chosen Ruby considering she has silver eyes and is a young upcoming prodigy. That would have made her more important. Like Ozpin Ruby off the bat was better than Pyrrha.

Qrow: Hey, I would have stopped that.

Jaune: O, so… it was okay with Pyrrha… but not your niece. I see. Hypocrite.

Qrow: Damn. Set myself up for that.

Jaune: Watts, despite his stupidity, had a point. James would abuse any source of technology just to have some level of control over something. Why did you think he wanted your sister instead of Penny? Why do you think he wanted Amity up as quickly as possible? Why do you think he hacked into Penny? Everything was always about control.

Weiss: Well our lives weren't easy.

Jaune: That I won't deny. Yet we are all still bad people.

Yang: Jaune my mother -

Jaune: Raven and Summer left you. Summer no one cared enough to talk about. Raven doesn't matter at all. Willow waited until her children were teenagers or young adults to start dealing with an abusive father. And Kali… yeah she should have slapped some sense into her daughter. 

Weiss: Well your mom doesn't love you.

Jaune: Don't care. Back to Jacque though how does he and James know each other? Why do they have beef with one another? Unless… o. Oh no. Don't tell me. Did James set Jacque up with Willow? And in return, he helps James rise to power. Or did James love Willow but because of his career he couldn't marry her? Could Winter be-

Weiss: Please stop. I do not need those theories in my head.

Jaune: Fine. The point I'm trying to make is… … well how about you explain.

Me: It's crazy how Jaune fits the main character role better than Ruby.

[amoreva]

FEIGNING FOR YA’

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CHAPTER 1

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: as a little childish act of rebellion, you try dating your friend, Luke Castellan, to really piss off your parents (for a actual real reason, not the small things they hate). what was supposed to be no strings attached turned into a little more than just childish revenge.

warnings: slow burn, college au, smau, fake dating to dating, cursing, clarisse x chris, aged up! pjo charcters, yn is older sister figure to percy, luke and thalia are older sibling figures to annabeth

a/n: i have re-written this one too many times and am still in the process of revising and proofreading to give you guys the best condition of the start of this fic series! So sorry for the delay!

series list | next

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“Are we still friends?”

“What?”

“Can we be friends?”

“After all of this?”

“After all of this.”

It would be a disastrously great story to tell your grandkids (if you had grandkids). Quite embarrassing really, telling someone about how naive and oblivious you were (still are.)

It was spring. The flowers in full bloom. Allergies spreading like wildfire due to pollen. Thankfully, it was raining cats and dogs, so no stuffy noses tonight. You decided to come back from your hometown two days before spring break ended. As much as you were homesick after spending so long at college, your family made you feel homesick for college.

It was torturous. Questions and questions about your college life were thrown at you left and right. From potentially having a significant other to your major that you were taking to who you were friends with to being disappointed in your college major to asking about your grades to being disappointed you party to just being disappointed.

All in all, truly you loved your family. Really, you do. Your aunt made great pastries. Your dad a great cook. Your uncle made really funny (bad.) jokes. Yet, they found some way to critic your every decision and move you make. You hated it.

Your shoes squeaked on tiled stairs. Lugging up your suitcase, you just prayed you didn’t fall. The tiles were wet because people’s shoes were wet. You did not want to pay a hospital bill after barely paying for college.

By the time you got to your dorm, you were already half asleep, running on an overpriced yogurt parfait from the airport. The soft comforter of your bed calling out to you like a siren’s song.

You were lulling off to dreamscape when a loud ominous creak filled the silence. “C’mon. You gotta be better than that. Lock your doors.” Luke’s “charming” voice replaced your peace. “Some creep could waltz in and kidnap you in your sleep.”

“Supposed you’re that creep?”

Luke has been attached to your hip since highschool, freshman year. Both of you have suffered through each other’s numerous cringy phases (only to bring them up for the annual birthday post on instagram).

He was one of the friends your parents despise. They always ranted about how they’ve been a bad influence to you since highschool.

“Depends.” The bed dipped under his weight. “Do you think you look okay enough to go out?”

“I guess, but I feel disgusting.” You answered. Confusion swimming through your mind. Where was Luke going with this?

“Are you upset because of a recent event?”

“Kinda.”

“Upset enough to stay holed up the whole evening?” Luke rephrased.

“No.”

“Okay.” Decision.

You heard his windbreaker swish as his arms wrapped around your waist. “Luke!” Like a bag of potatoes you were tossed over his shoulder. “You fucking—!”

He grabbed what he was originally came in your dorm for and exited. Silena, Chris and Clarisse were waiting for Luke and now, you. “Welcome back!” Silena said, masking her shock.

No one knew you were coming back home early and Luke wasn’t surprised. As much as you wanted to stay in your dorm and sleep, you were glad to be with your friends.

The restaurant was loud and lively. The rain ceasing. College students were celebrating their final few days before classes started up again. The occasional drunks here to watch the multiple football games going on. Your friend group chose to celebrate.

The dim lighting was a stark contrast to the bright TVs that played various football and soccer games. Drinks slid down the bar into the awaiting consumer’s hand. Alcohol got everyone in a better mood during the night (though the same cannot be said the morning after).

A waiter placed down the five shots Luke had ordered, in toast of your unexpected return and the final days of spring break. The shot glasses made a tiny clink before the liquid burned your throat. It left a warm feeling in your chest.

Silena and Clarisse went to take photos via Chris the cameraman. The three went out to the porch of the restaurant bar. You opted out and Luke stayed with you. You weren’t exactly in the nicest clothes.

Another round of shots were placed on the table. Luke ran his fingers through his curls and checked his phone. “What’s bothering you?” He asked.

“What?” You tore your gaze from the two girls and looked at Luke.

“You said you were upset about something, but not too upset to not go out.” Luke explained. “Better to get it off your shoulders than to bottle it up.”

You roll your eyes at his last sentence and sat up in the cushioned restaurant chair. “Family.” Luke laughed a little at that. He’s known how perfect your family wants you to be.

You shove your face into your hands as if you were reliving the reunion all over again. “I didn’t even do anything bad or get in serious trouble this time!”

Luke nodded along slowly, taking in your every word. You can’t tell what he’s thinking as you continue on your little rant. Yet his face shifts as you rant.

“Why are your grades like that?”

“I saw your Instagram post. Drinking? Really?”

You parrot some of the questions your family said to you, with their fake smiles and judgmental eyes. You were old enough to drink! “And then they started talking my ear off about you all. Clarisse! Thalia, you—Silena and Chris” The list goes on. Luke knows it. You know it.

“Why are you friends with that temperamental girl? Lord knows the trouble you’ll be roped into with her.” You mocked your parents, aunts and uncles’ words. “I don’t like how that Thalia girl. Too rebellious, disrespectful too!”

“That one girl is an airhead. Head in the clouds.”

“Don’t get me started on that Luke boy again.”

“Get better friends.”

“Maybe you hang out with a different group.”

“They piss me off! And well maybe they’re concerned about my wellbeing, but—they keep harping me about everything little thing I do.” You groaned and rubbed your eyes exhausted. “Which is why I came back early.”

“So piss them off.” Like that was the hardest thing you do. You unintentionally trigger their judgmental side without even trying.

“What?”

“It’s what I do to my dad. I piss him off most of the time when he tries to come back.” Luke shrugged. “If they hate all of us so much. Date one of us, shit—date me, you’ve known me the longest. I think they’d be pretty pissed about you dating a bad influence.”

“That’s so childish.” You commented, but it was good, but it could work. Rebellion never hurt anyone that bad. Well, maybe your aunt will have a “heart attack”, but it should be fine.

And you were out of options to try and get your family off your back.

So the next afternoon, when Clarisse was out, Luke and you sat on your bed and conjured up a contract for this temporary relationship; a day before break was over.

“I don’t see why we need a contract.” Luke sipped on a juicebox. The sunlight providing a nice atmosphere in your dorm room.

“I saw it work on a show I watched kinda.” You whispered the word “kinda” under your breath. It was a long time since you’ve seen the show.

Luke raised an eyebrow and set the empty juice box on your desk. “So…uh—terms and conditions.” You typed out on a Google doc in big bolded letters. How do you start this?

“We could “date” from now until the start of summer? I think that is a long enough rebellion.” You suggested and looked at Luke. “I have to go back home for Easter and my little sister’s birthday, but then I have that family trip in summer…”

“Sure.” Luke agreed.

You looked at him silently asking him to elaborate. “From now until that family trip is over. I’ll go to Easter, the birthday and the trip.”

“You aren’t trying to mooch off me for the trip are you?”

Luke slid the computer to him and typed out the first terms and conditions. He ignored your question with a smile and a shake of his head. “You have to come with me when it’s Mother’s Day though.”

You agreed to that relatively quickly. Your mom and dad were always out of town that day. “I’m fine with kissing on the cheek and forehead and holding hands, if you are?”

“What? No lips?” Luke teased with a grin.

“I haven’t had my first kiss yet.” You muttered in embarrassment.

“Fine, no lips.” You were slightly surprised Luke didn’t tease you for not having your first kiss yet. He typed it on the computer. “And no sex.”

“No sex.” You agreed. “And we cannot let the others know. They’ll start talking and then it’ll get to my family somehow—”

“Okay…no sex and no talking about the fake relationship.” Luke chucked and typed it on the computer. “This seems good enough for a contract right?” He still thinks the contract is stupid.

You smack his shoulder. “This is serious, Luke! If I wanna piss of my parents I have to do it right.”

“Okay, sweetie.” He spoke sarcastically and typed his name at the end of the document. You did the same. “But there is no right way to piss off someone. You just do.”

After signing the temporary dating contract, Luke and you talked about the story of how you got together.

Luke and you supposedly have had some unrequited feelings during highschool. Both of you began talking over spring break after a drunk conversation and decided to give dating a shot.

Then, there was the fact that Luke and you had to announce the relationship. So, social media it was. Which prompted you to grab his hand. “Where are we going?” Luke asked as he was dragged off your bed.

“A cafe.” You held his hand, fingers lacing together. “I’m hungry after all that and it would be great publicity if we went out holding hands.”

“Whatever you say.” Luke rolled his eyes, though he didn’t mean it. “Then I guess I’ll be the good boyfriend and pay.”

“Really?” You asked and looked back at him.

He shrugged. “Why not.”

Luke and you held hands and talked about whatever came to mind. Like you usually did as bestfriends. He opened the cafe door for you and paid for your food and drink.

Maybe “dating” Luke won’t be the worst thing ever. Rebelling doesn’t seem to be all that bad now. Maybe everything will turn out fine. You rebel against your perfect family and Luke will get a free trip as a reward. Yeah, you’re sure things will turn out okay. Maybe.

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taglist:

@happy-mushrooms @m00ng4z3r

[alice-angel12x]

Born of Unkown Stardust

Ch. 4

summary: The angles formed the world and all mortal life from dust. One day from the unknown the angels came across bizarre dust, that seemed to have a will of its own. It refused to be molded and shaped to the angel's will. So they cast it aside, till a certain angel got his creative hands on it.

(bittersweet story) (platonic) Lucifer x (???) Reader x Sera

<-Part 3/ Part 5 ->

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yuu Cried out as pure energy flowed from them like a roaring river. The vortex thrashed and trashed everything in the room, as Yuu let everything flow. Sera watched in worry as the energy started to get stronger with no signs of stopping. The roof above the child threatened to give way, so without a thought Sera rushed to Yuu.

She quickly wrapped her arms around the crying child. But the energy rushing out of Yuu burned her skin as she held the child close. The energy was hot?... Cold? All she could tell was that hurt like Hell.

(Song You'll be in my heart)

"Come stop your crying It will be alright Just take my hand Hold it tight I will protect you From all around you" Sera sang, straining through the pain.

Yuu's thrashing started to slow a bit. Sera slowly and gently held the child's hand, giving it a small squeeze.

"I will be here Don't you cry

For one so small You seem so strong My arms will hold you Keep you safe and warm," Sera continued as the flow of energy started to weaken, very slowly.

"This bond between us Can't be broken I will be here don't you cry," She sang as Yuu slowly curled up close to her.

"Cause you'll be in my heart Yes, you'll be in my heart From this day on Now and forever more," As The angel sang, Yuu's cries became soft whimpers as the cortex finally vanished.

"You'll be in my heart No matter what they say You'll be here in my heart Always," Sera sang as she looked at the destruction around the room. She slowly walked out of the room to Yuu's room to tuck them in.

"Always," She finished as she gently tucked the blanket over Yuu. With that, she quietly turns to leave.

"Don't leave. Don't leave," Yuu whimpered in their sleep.

Sera paused for a moment and looked at the door. Yet her heart wouldn't allow her to go, not after what she saw. So with a sigh, Sera sat down in a comfy chair in the room and slowly drifted to sleep.

_________________________________________________

Crash!!!

Sera gasped awake at the sound of crashing plates. She looks over to Yuu's bed to see it is empty. She quickly rushed down to the kitchen to see. Yuu... Making Pancakes? How were they making pancakes? They're a child!

"Ah Sorry, Ms.Sera! I was making SorryCakes. But some pans fell over," Yuu said as they cleaned up the spilled dishes.

"Sorrycakes?" Sera asked with a confused chuckle.

"Sorry Pancakes. Cause I of that," Yuu said as they pointed to Sera's burns on her arms and torso.

"Oh, Well apology accepted Yuu," Sera said as she used her magic to clean the mess around the kitchen. "Did Lucifer teach you how to make pancakes?"

"I watched him, so I copied what he did. I got better at it when I had to cook for myself... When he left me...Alone," Yuu said as they placed the plate in front of Sera.

"Thank you," Sera smiles and takes a few bits out of the food. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't know. I think sad...Angry? I don't know, I just... I just want me Da," Yuu said weakly. "Was what Da did really that bad?"

"I'm afraid so. He has let Roo take hold of Earth and now her influence will reign over humanity forever," Sera explained.

"Why is that a bad thing? It only affects humans, and not us," Yuu pointed out.

"If only it were that simple. Humans are mortal and don't live forever like you and I. Originally when they passed on, their souls would join us in heaven. However now that sin has entered Earth, we can't accept bad souls into our realm," Sera explained.

"Bad souls?" Yuu asked.

"Humans who in life have done bad things, committing sin," Sera said slowly, trying the best she could to explain to the child.

"So if souls don't sin, and stay good. They can come to heaven?" Yuu asked slowly.

"Or at least lived a not-to-sinful life," Sera nodded.

"So If... If I help humans not be bad... And not sin. Can Da come back?" Yuu asked with slight hope.

Sera sighed sadly as she could see the gears turning in Yuu's head.

"I'm not really sure if it is possible. Lucifer's banishment was decided by the vote of the elder council," Sera tried to explain. But she could already see the gears turn in the young child's head.

-------------------------------

60 Years Later

Suddenly a grand bell rang. A Human soul has arrived in heaven.

"What's that?" Yuu asked.

"The first human soul has arrived in heaven. Come, let go welcome them," Ser smiles as she holds her hand to Yuu.

"Okay," Yuu said nervously as they held Sera's hand.

-------------------------------------

The angels of all ranks stood at the pearly gates, all excited as they welcomed this first human. I've never seen them so excited before. Sera parted the crowd as I followed closely behind her to see this human.

And there he was standing in the middle of the crowd, who looked on in awe. Yet The human seemed really freaked out as he looked around frantically.

"Abel! Abel!" The human man cried out. "Where's my Son?! Where Is Eve!?"

"Son? Where is his family?" I asked Mother Sera.

"Wait right here okay," She said gently as she flys over the Human.

I watched as Sera spoke to the human, who was tiny compared to her. As She spoke to him, at first, he was upset and yelling. When suddenly he wasn't, he was quiet and sad. Only to quickly fly off somewhere, and no one followed. I hope he is okay.

So, Silently I followed this human. He flew off to some distant cloud to sit in silence. Slowly I inched my way closer and closer when he suddenly turned. Quickly spotted me.

“What? What are you? You don’t looks like the others,” Adam questioned.

“I’m… Huh… I don’t really know. My Dad created me,” I answered honestly.

“Why are you here?” Adam asked sharply.

“W-why are you sad. Is it because your family isn’t here?” I asked softly.

“There not, and it’s all because of that Bi-… S-Snake of a women’s fault,” Adam stumbled as he looked at me.

I wonder what he was going to say, and who is the snake Women?

“E-Eve?” I asked slowly.

“No! Lilith! I knew she was up to no good. I should have listened to my gut, and sent her away when she came back,” Adam said in anger as he passed back and forth.

"What did Lilith do?" I asked.

"She tricked my wife, and know she is condemned forever. When Eve out of anyone should be up here. Lilith and her stupid Angel lover screwed her over. Just to get back at me," Adam said bitterly.

'wait angel lover? Can't be right?' Then I remembered something, from the last night I saw Da. He was working on something. Saying that "she" believed in his dreams. And hidden behind his arm was a small red fruit, crafted and embued with magic.

"Did Lilith use a red fruit of some kind?" I asked slowly.

"Yeah an Apple," Adam confirmed but paused as he stopped to look at me. "Why do you ask?"

"That was my Da. I saw him working on it. But he promised me he wouldn't cause trouble! He promised," I said weakly. That promise is nothing known.

Adam just sighed in frustration as he randomly tousled my hair. He simply sits down and stares into the distance.

"Looks like you were also screwed over by Lilith. She screwed me out of being with my wife, Screwed Eve out of getting into heaven, and you out of a Father," Adam said simply as we sat in silence.

----------------------------

"Yuu! Yuu where did you go!" Sera called out as she searched for them.

As she looked around she spotted them, Adam looked up to see her. He turned to Yuu to turn their attention to Sera. The seraphim smiled in relief as she opened her arms as Yuu floated into her embrance.

"Thank you Adam for finding them," Sera nodded.

"No problem," He said plainly as he walked off.

As Sera carried Yuu away, she noticed that Yuu was still deep in thought. Very troubled thoughts.

"What's on your mind Yuu?" Sera asked.

"Adam said that Da was Lilith's lover... What is a lover?" Yuu asked.

Sera stuttered a bit as she quickly came up with a child-friendly explanation.

"Lovers is something that happens between two adults. When they love each other very much, they want to spend the rest of their lives together. And eventually, start a family all their own," Sera explained.

Yuu remained silent for a bit as they mulled over the information. When Yuu slowly asked again.

"So... Da loved Lilith more? And that's why he chose not to keep his promise?" Yuu asked, their eyes began to water. "Did... Did Da no longer want me? To be with me?"

Sera gasped as he held the poor child and they began to cry.

"Was it cause I couldn't make the world we said we'd make fast enough? I tried, I really Tried! I worked so hard," Yuu said as the tears started to roll down Yuu's cheeks.

"Oh, Yuu. It is not your fault. Lucifer loves you very much. But the love he felt for Lilith blinded him from realizing he had someone important home. He left you alone for days on end for Lilith. That was selfish of him," Sera comforted Yuu. "If only he slowed down to see how much. How far and beyond you went for him, to make a world for him."

Yuu hugged Sera tightly, their little arms wrapping around Sera's neck.

"Now, let's get lunch," Sera smiles.

"PANCAKES!" Yuu says as they try to wipe all the tears away.

"Pancakes? Didn't you have enough pancakes for a lifetime," Sera chuckled.

--------------------------------------------

Meanwhile in Hell

Lucifer was able to create a safe castle within hell for himself and Lilith. Lilith slept soundly on the soft king-size bed that she shared with Lucifer. Sadly as the new queen slept peacefully, the king on the other hand was haunted. He thrashes and turns on his bed as falls into a dream.

------------------------------

Tags:

@@littleladydemon  , @corvid007, @ellaprime7, @just-here-reading, @kyo-kyo1