#bracelet girl on bracelet girl violence....

[bestygogirl]

BEST YGO GIRL: Round 2, Group D

Match 1

please use this as an opportunity to say why you like a character, not why you don't.

Propaganda under the cut!

Serena

The epitome of "kitten dreams of nothing but murder all day" Ppl talk about wanting morally gray women, but can't handle a child soldier who doesn't immediately roll over for the first person who tells her to. But she isn't heartless and clearly cares about ppl, seeing her get to actually have fun in her duel against Yugo was the best, and now with her in Duel Links we can see that in a casual environment, she is also the funniest silly little guy She's awesome and kicks ass for 90% of the show. Lunalights are so cool and one of my absolute favorite archetypes. She is such a badass opposing the Fusion Dimension. She also deserved better and more screentime.

Rin

For being in so few episodes, she makes a hell of an impact. The fact she just shows up and destroys one of the best duelists in the shows and Yugo is entirely unfazed by this? You know I see why he is obsessed with her RINRIN!!! Oh she deserves SO much more!!! In Yugo’s flashbacks we see a kind spunky girl who just wants things to get better for her and Yugo. She’s a cutie pootie that probably has a special interest in witches. Please give this gremlin more love

[lesbiten]

anyways it seems like my slight anxieties about getting hate crimed here were a little bit much because wouldnt you know it. animal science bitches are gay as hell

[pepsichrry]

Ride || Theodore F. Nott

Summary: An arranged marriage between two Pureblood families is almost common, but what happens when a sudden infatuation is brought into the mix.

Set after the Battle of Hogwarts!

Warnings: Sexual content, smut, Mentions of violence, angst, unhealthy relationship, Theo is obsessed with his wife

—————————————————————————

Theo felt himself slipping away. Not quite how he did when he’d received the Dark Mark, and not quite how he did when he watched the life vanish from his mother’s eyes. This time, it felt different.

He watched you through foggy window panes in the dewy spring mornings and from across the dining table as you ate breakfast. He couldn’t stop watching you, and it drove him insane. His wife drove him insane. Of course he’d heard such sentences from his father’s colleagues and other men who complained, but those feelings were nothing alike Theo’s. Not like the pang in his heart when he watched you in the grassy fields of the estate or the fondness disguised by hard eyes as you exchanged pleasantries like strangers. After all, you really were strangers.

But Theo had come to know you like you didn’t even know yourself. To him, you were anything but a stranger.

He couldn’t even count the amount of times that he had dreamt of you sleeping beside him, feeling your warmth, imagining what it would be like to kiss you and please you like any husband would wish to, Merlin, like any man who lay eyes upon you would. If it weren’t for your complete lack of interest in him, he would have asked you to have your way with him already, but ever since the wedding, you hadn’t been interested in going near him at all. He couldn’t blame you, at first he had been opposed to marrying so young, claiming that his father was taking away his freedom, stripping him of his youth and leaving him to be stuck with a stranger in his house. But, oh, how wrong he was.

You were a delight, a pure and innocent light in the darkness of the family estate. You brought with you little possessions, maybe only a few dresses and boxes of trinkets, but you gave life to the creaking floorboards and dusty walls. In a matter of months, you’d planted flowers and fruit trees, stripped the dark rooms of misery and replaced it with sunlight and brighter decor. All of a sudden, the fires were lit and the house no longer sent a chill down your spine. That, at least, Theo could be grateful for.

Taking note of the subtle changes made, he always made sure to thank you with something or another, whether it be silky gowns, sparkling jewellery, shoes or perfume. But none of it seemed to impress you.

As time went on, Theo became aware of your distaste towards his expensive gifts and tried everything he could to satisfy you from an arms length, but it was difficult. When he’d been in school, a pretty bracelet would have been enough to get a girl to want him, but it seemed that there was nothing that he could give that made you want him. So he decided on giving you the only thing he could think that you’d want from him; space.

In leaving you alone, he began to observe you whenever he could, and in doing so, he started to understand that you didn’t desire dresses or sparkles to admire yourself in, though he did see you trying his previous gifts on in front of the mirror with a grin, and instead he realised that you enjoyed sitting in the library with a book or lounging in the garden eating fruits.

He admired you every day when you wore your lacy white dresses in the spring sunshine, hair falling over your sun-kissed shoulders. He admired you as you sipped at the fresh lemonade the house elves had prepared and watched as your soft lips enveloped the glass. He admired you as you lounged in the living room with bare feet on the oak floor. He even admired you in your bedroom from time to time as you slept, praying to Merlin that you wouldn’t wake up as he smoothed gentle fingers over your temple.

Sometimes, though, he wished that you would wake up, catch him in the act. He wondered what you’d say, how your face would contort into confusion or shock, he wondered if you’d let him stay. So, as time went on, he visited you every night whilst you slept, enjoying the close calls and nervousness that ran through him at the thought of you waking up. He took pleasure in the thumping of his heart and how you stirred in your sleep from time to time as the mattress dipped beside you. Every night, he wanted to kiss your plump lips as you slept, wondering if the action would wake you or if you’d be angry if he did. He knew it’d be wrong, but he couldn’t help how much he wanted to kiss your beautiful lips and freckled skin.

He imagined how it’d feel to run his lips and tongue over your body, lose himself in the supple curves of your hips and breasts or in the soft feeling of your hair. Sometimes he’d dream it too and wake up sticking to his sheets with a mixture of sweat and precum. It was a guilty pleasure to relieve himself thinking of you and everything he did to you in his imagination.

You were a sinful temptation wrapped in pure white bedsheets and gowns, tormenting him until he had to excuse himself from dinner with a swollen cock and a pink face.

His wife drove him insane. And she was oblivious.

One night, as Theo dodged the creaky floorboards outside of your bedroom, he heard it. The soft sigh falling from your lips, indicating that you weren’t asleep. The warm light emitting from the ajar door drew him in, enticing him into pushing gently against the barrier between him and you. And upon opening the door, he saw you.

You lay spread across the bed, hair framing your head like a shining halo in lamplight as your nightgown was pulled up to your stomach, held in place by one hand whilst the other reached between your open legs, though the sight was obscured by the flesh of your thigh as you lay parallel to the door.

Theo cursed mentally, wishing that you’d lay with your head on your pillow so that he could really see what your hand was toying with. He felt himself grow hot and shifted as his trousers tightened uncomfortably, alerting you of his presence when you heard the creak of a floorboard. Fuck. You looked at him with wide eyes, a deer caught in headlights as you ripped your small hand from between your thighs. Before you could even begin to stutter, Theo chocked out a bashful ‘Sorry’ before turning and slamming the door behind him.

In that moment, he wished that the ground would swallow him up. He had never been so shy around a girl, especially one that was lying, touching herself in his house, not that there had been any before. His head softly thumped against your door as he slumped back. But he didn’t have much time to feel sorry for himself as your door opened suddenly.

He spun to look at you. It had seemed that you’d smoothed down your wild hair before coming to find him as it hung over your shoulders like usual. Your eyes met his in the darkness of the hallway and he nearly collapsed. Between the blood from his head running to his groin and the look in your eyes, he thought that maybe he would collapse, but he cleared his throat and straightened up to his full height to look down at you with his usual stoic expression.

Your eyes trailed down his neck, to his chest and then, they looked straight down to the sizeable bulge in his slacks. He had worn neatly ironed trousers and a button down shirt to visit his father that day, and secretly wished that he had changed his clothes before coming to see you that night. It would have been more comfortable for his raging hard-on.

“Would you like to come in?”

Theo’s prayers must have been answered, because your soft voice lead him through your doorframe. He barely even registered what was going on until he was sat on your mattress like many nights before, but this time, you were awake, looking at him with lustrous eyes and flushed skin on your cheeks, neck and…

You leaned into him once he was settled on your bed and brushed your damp lips onto his own. His jaw hung open and his eyes were wide as they looked at you. This must have been a dream.

Surely he was awake judging by the feeling of your lips on his own and the hammering of his heart and the throbbing between his legs. You kissed him with fervour, running your hands over his shoulders tenderly and Theo sighed at the feeling of your touch, it was something he hadn’t felt before. You hadn’t even touched him during the wedding, not even for a dance, let alone at night. You had never consummated your marriage and he had never been so aware of the fact. He leant into your hands, chest rising and falling heavily as his head spun and his body overheated.

You hushed him quietly, running your hand through his brown curls and straddling his lap quickly, sighing as you felt the bulge in his lap against your bare core beneath your night dress. It had been drilled into your head that as a Pureblood woman, you must remain as pure as possible until you were inevitably married off, meaning you’d never been in any position similar to this. You didn’t even know what to do with the boy who began to run his rough hands over your back as he hungrily kissed you. But something about the situation made you giddy, here he was, you could finally have him all to yourself. The gorgeous, brown-haired beauty you’d snagged up.

You ground down into his lap on instinct, something sparking deep inside of you at the sound of his throat emitting a deep noise. Your mouth hung agape, breathing hot air onto the column of his neck once you’d tugged his hair back to reveal the expanse of his skin.

Theo felt like prey under your scorching touch. He wanted nothing more than to feel what you had been touching so dearly before he’d interrupted you. He wondered what it looked like, what it smelled like, what it tasted like. Merlin, how he wanted to taste it. To have what he’d imagined so vividly above him, restricted by nothing but a layer of clothing drove him to insanity. He couldn’t help but rut into you from where he sat below you.

He felt the pressure of your palm on his chest, encouraging him to lay his back against the silk sheets. Theo was down, obeying your every wish as you kissed fiercely, hands claiming every inch of his burning body, fiery like a sinner in church, your fingertips the devil, searing the flesh from his bones and torturing him in ways incapable of any human being responsible of.

His body throbbed, lungs heaving and struggling and his heart hammering against his ribcage. His legs and hands shook like they never had before and Theo did wonder why his body reacted the way it was.

Your lips let a soft sound pass through them again as his hips jolted, the bulge in his trousers pressed at the perfect angle, his cold belt buckle rubbing against your slick clit with a pleasurable shock. The boy was almost thrashing beneath you as he was oh, so eager to hear the noise again. His large hands encouraged you to press down against his need, spurring a deep sigh from him. You didn’t know why you hadn’t done this before.

“Is this what you imagine when you watch me?” You asked, and his body stilled minus the shivering of his hands and legs.

A frown dragged at his brow as you pulled your warm face away from his. “I-What?”

You grinned devilishly. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice how you sneak in here each night? Now answer me, is this what you imagine?”

The air was knocked out of him when your body ground down onto his again, forcing the answer out of him. He wheezed, “Yes!” His head falling back harshly onto the pillow as his eyes scrunched closed as if it hurt to watch you work atop of him. Your hand threaded through his curls, scraping gently at his scalp and tipping his head aside, revealing the moles scattered up his throat. You hungrily attack the expanse of his neck, leaving him purple and pink.

His body fell slack, allowing you to take him in any way that you pleased. With your mouth against his neck and your pussy against his groin, he felt himself grow closer and closer to succumbing to his own pleasure. The white hot light in his eyes grew closer and his mouth tasted the familiar sweetness of lust, all he needed was for you to keep going, then he was sure to release all tension. He needed it more than he’d needed anything before.

Theo tried to call out, but his breath was gone and his head span in circles, so all that could be said was nothing but the most pathetic noises he’d made. He whined as you scratched circles into his hair and bruised his neck with your sweet mouth. He pawed desperately at your body atop of him, searching for any way to force you harder onto his swollen length.

You felt his body shake and his chest rattle with unsure breaths, so hesitantly, you slowed your hips until you halted, appreciating the groan that slipped past Theo’s lips at the lack of friction.

Hushing him gently with a finger over his lips, you smiled sweetly at him. His eyes were bleary and almost unfocused as he looked up at you. A careful hand reach up to smooth over your face in attempts to bring you back down to his lips, but it was to no avail. He breathed out a tiny noise of complaint.

You brushed over his face gently. “I just need you to be quiet, Love, can you do that?”

It felt nearly as if he was in pain without the feeling of your hips rocking onto him, but he obeyed, nodding his head vigorously.

“Good.” You whispered, lifting yourself from him. Theo nearly complained until he realised where you were steadying yourself.

Your knees dug into the mattress on either side of his shoulders, wetness hovering over his shirt and he nearly thought he was about to pass out.

“Allow me?” You ask him. You knew the answer, but you waited quietly for his response.

“Fuck! Yes.” He twitched beneath your legs.

Slowly, almost teasingly, you found the end of your nightgown with your fingers. You toyed with the hem, brushing the soft lace against his clean-shaven chin as his jaw slackened. His mouth was open, heaving in breaths as his eyes watched intently as you lifted the gown up to your belly. Theo was downright salivating at the sight of your pretty little pussy right in front of him. He slid a hand from your backside, all the way up the front of your stomach, taking the nightgown from your hand and pulling it over your head. He hungrily stared over your body, drinking in your beautiful skin and rivets and dips.

His large hands dragged over your sides until they parted, one trailing down to your hip and the other to your full chest. His mouth was ready to feel you, to map out the entirety of your core, ready in his mind to remember when he sinfully touched himself.

Your hands reached to the headboard, pulling yourself up the the pillows, where his head lay, and you lowered yourself onto his eager mouth.

Instantly, his lips engulfed your clit, suckling at it as his hands held your hips firmly over him. As soon as he touched you, you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling. His tongue lapped at you with boiling hot accuracy and you fell victim to the wet sounds of your bodies connecting.

Your head lulled to the side, body weakened at the pleasure he was giving to you. His tongue ran in vigorous circles and you ground against his face in an attempt to make him lick harder.

Your forehead rested on the headboard, knuckles whitening as the sounds were becoming more and more obscene. Theo pressed you down harder onto him and between licking at your sensitive pussy, he sucked harsher and harsher. Your pearly juices were helping you slide over his mouth but he didn’t care that it was coating him more and more as he encouraged you to press onto him. The taste of you was sure to linger on his tongue, and he welcomed the thought eagerly.

His teeth grazed against your skin and you whined, reaching a hand down to his locks, hoping that just your hand would comfort him slightly despite the rough grinding of your pussy on his face. But by the desperate sounds he was making, he didn’t seem to mind at all.

The mixture of your juices and his saliva dripped down his neck and onto the pillow. His chest heaved up and down relentlessly as he awaited your climax. He wanted nothing more than to make you come.

He moaned into your pussy, the vibrations of his deep voice sending a shiver through you. Your entrance was beating and you could your thighs feeling light at his continuous movements. You were close.

Once you felt the familiar sensation run through you, your other hand came down to grip at his hair as you jerked over his jaw, thighs clenching around his head. Theo felt you squeeze his head, causing an odd lightheadedness to come over him, but not just in his head.

His legs went numb and his vision blurred as his cock leaked spurts of hot cum into his underwear. You still hadn’t stopped grinding on his face, feeling the last of your orgasm as he rode his out all the same. He shook gently, sucking harshly on your clit as you squealed at the sensitivity.

You soon came back down, legs shaking, still squeezing your husband’s head. You quickly realised how red his face was becoming and you were sure that you were killing him. Your legs quickly swung back over him and you sat beside him, viewing the result of your orgasm. His face was pink and his mouth hung open, taking in as much air as possible. His face was covered from his neck to his cheeks with slick and his eyes were closed shut. That was when you noticed the dark stain on his slacks.

You hoped to see him in your bed again.

pt.2

[tlou-reid]

Finishing Gifts ❤︎ Aaron Hotchner

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

♡ SUMMARY: after a few days of ignoring him, Aaron makes an effort to get your behavior to return to normal

♡ WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, smut, female and male masturbation, phone sex, mentions of watching porn, sex toys, drinking, small mentions of criminal minds-esque themes and violence, pretty much porn with very little plot, this is not edited like at all

♡ NOTE: something about writing aaron masturbating makes me go brrrrrr

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You had thought you were keeping your cool. Honestly, truly, you had thought no one would notice the small changes in your behavior. You had tried to be subtle in dodging Hotch, doing it slowly and over time. It had started with piggybacking Spencer’s theories in the field, which led to pushing to go look at a crime scene rather than to the police department with Hotch. Then evolved into getting deep into conversation with JJ as you approached the jet, using it as an excuse to claim a seat next to her rather than your normal position between Hotch and the window.

These acts had gone unnoticed, or, at least, you’d thought. In your determination to avoid them, you hadn’t noticed the strange looks Derek and Morgan had thrown each other, and then Aaron, as you relaxed next to JJ. You missed Garcia questioning what had been up with you as you extended your time making coffee before a briefing, just so you didn’t have to walk behind Hotch into the room.

But, your latest change to avoid your unit chief definitely didn’t fly under the radar. This one was loud and clear, and absolutely threw off the entire BAU.

You’d just completed, by all possible metrics, a very successful case. It was a rare one, looking at terrorism in the DC area. A group of people who were planting explosives around the city, in unsuspecting areas. Instead of targeting political buildings or memorials, they focused on smaller-scale destruction. The team had been able to put the perpetrators away with no more casualties than those that were gone before the team landed. All in all, it was incredibly stressful, but a win for the team.

So, after Emily’s suggestion and Derek’s reminder that it was an extended weekend due to a government holiday, the team was getting ready to head to the bar. You had begged to go home to shower, promising you’d take an Uber (so you could, in Penelope’s words, “get fucked up with the girls”) and meet them at the bar in about an hour.

You put on your best outfit, showing an appropriate amount of cleavage, and did your makeup to the best of your abilities. After you’d cleaned up, you went to open your Uber app, excited to have a night to relax.

However, you were cut off when a phone call overtook your screen. “Aaron” the contact name read, indicating it was your unit chief, and that he was calling from his personal cellphone. You let ring a few times before picking up, not wanting to seem too eager to talk to your boss.

“Hellooo,” you practically sung into the phone, too excited to be worried about embarrassing yourself in front of him. He simply replied with a formal “hello,” followed by your name. “Please don’t tell me you’re ruining my longggg weekend,” You said to him, and he swore he could hear some of jewelry shaking. You couldn’t keep your excitement in, shaking your wrists, which made your bracelets make noise.

He chuckled a bit at your reaction to him calling, “No, no. I was just calling to see if you had left yet.” You smiled against the phone, knowing where this conversation was going. “Nope! I was actually ordering my Uber when you called,” you informed him. “So, you haven’t ordered it?” He questioned again, to which you replied with a “uh-uh”.

You couldn’t tell but your excitement about going out with your friends was essentially oozing through the phone, causing Aaron to maintain a bright smile on his face. You weren’t aware of how your vibe, your energy, was able to lift a weight off of Aaron’s shoulders that had been there for as long as he could remember.

“I also had to run home before meeting the team. If you’d like, I can pick you up.” Your smile, somehow, grew even bigger. Any excuse to see Aaron was a good one, you’d thought.

However, your face quickly fell when you reminded yourself that you were supposed to be avoiding him. You felt a pang in your heart as you said, “Thanks, but I have a few things to finish up here! I appreciate the offer, Hotch.”

With a quick, formal goodbye, the called ended. Aaron tried to ignore the fact that you lied to him as he drove the rest of the way. You had said you were about to call your Uber, and he heard your jewelry, meaning you were putting the finishing touches on your outfit. So why wouldn’t you accept his ride?

He tried to ignore the blow to his chest when you called him Hotch. Something about the use of his last name made him feel as if he’d done something wrong. Not that it was unusual for you, or anyone really, to call him that. It was the emphasis you’d put on it. As if you were trying to make it known he was Hotch and not Aaron.

Aaron tried to turn off his profiling ability, but it was proving to be had as all of his thoughts were currently encompassed by you.

The night, and the whole weekend if you were being honest, went by in a blur. You could tell Aaron had noticed the change in your behavior. You were standoffish at the bar, pretty much avoiding any conversation with him. You just hoped by the end of the long weekend it would be forgotten, and you’d be able to continue work as normal.

This dream was quickly demolished as Aaron was summoning you into his office before you had the chance to even put your bag down and unpack your files.

The sound of calling your last name both frightened and intrigued you. You couldn’t help but be attracted to the authority in his voice, even if it could mean you were going to be in trouble.

As you stepped into the voice, Aaron didn’t even look up. He mumbled a “shut the door, please,” as he finished recording some notes on an opened file in front of him. You stood awkwardly by the door, waiting for some kind instruction or reasoning from him.

“Please,” he gestured to the seats in front of his desk. You nodded, clumsily making your way to them. “I didn’t mean to scare you or make you uncomfortable by calling you in here,” he began.

You weren’t sure if you were more scared by being called into his office, to have a conversation that required you to both sit down and shut the door, or the intense eye contact he was maintaining as he introduced whatever discussion you two were about to have.

“I just couldn’t help but notice,” he paused for a second, trying to find the right words to say, “a recent change in your behavior.” You hoped he didn’t notice the way your eyes went wide, knowing you’d been caught. You didn’t have to ask what he was talking about to know you’d been caught, but you did anyway, “What do you mean?” You thought you were playing your part well, furrowing your eyebrows to truly emphasis your fake confusion.

“It feels as though you’ve been avoiding me.” Aaron says. His tone isn’t angry or even authoritative, but rather, disappointed. There’s a slight huff in the way he spoke. He didn’t give you a chance to defend yourself before he continued, “Which is fine if you so choose to do so. I would just like to know if it was because of something I did and if I could fix it. I want the team to function as well as it can, and I feel as though it would not if there was conflict between you and I.”

Aaron had to find a professional spin to throw his statement, knowing the professionalism of this situation was debatable at best. “Oh, sir,” you blushed, not really knowing what to say, “I don’t believe there is any conflict between us.” Your voice was formal, too formal. It was obvious you were under pressure. “So, what is it then?” He questioned.

You could feel yourself growing small under his intense stare. You could also feel the wet patch growing between your legs, making you slightly uncomfortable.

“You, uh, you kind of make nervous.” With your quiet voice and stutter, and the way your thighs squeezed together, it was easy for Aaron to pick up on the reason he made you nervous. His cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink instantaneously. “Oh,” his voice trailed off, followed by your quiet, “yeah.”

There was a few beats of silence before he cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad to hear there’s no issues between us.” You nodded with his words, growing even more nervous. Your mouth was moving before your brain could catch up, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to, it’s just been a minute since I’ve, ya know, and I know you’re boss but I will be completely professional and this will not effect my work in or out of the field.”

While you mean to be assuring your boss that your attraction to him was no detriment to your work, you just admitted that it’s been a minute since you’ve had an orgasm. You needed to end this conversation quickly.

“If that’s all,” You said as you stood, “I have a few more reports to finish.” Aaron simply nodded, dismissing you back into the bullpen. You made a break for the bathroom, hoping to have a few minutes to collect yourself before facing the race of the team. You felt exposed, knowing you were entering a room of profilers after since a painful experience. You needed some time alone.

After a mini-breakdown, and cleaning up your messed up mascara, you made your way to your desk. Calm and collected. That’s all you had to be. Calm and collected.

Serial killers and other criminals had quieted down for the week, in an unlikely turn of events. You’d only had to travel for one day, quickly solving a kidnapping case and the finding the perpetrator. The week flew by swimmingly. Nothing odd had happened.

Until you opened your door Saturday morning.

You hadn’t ordered anything, that much you were sure of. Even if you did, you tended to shop at places with bright packaging that made you feel like you were opening a gift when it was delivered. This unsuspecting, plain box was not here on your accord, yet it had your name and address on it.

The FBI agent side of you flipped into protection mode, racing to grab your phone and dial up the one person you knew that could tell you what to do if there happened to be a bomb inside of the box. Derek Morgan. “Pretty girl, why are you facetiming me at 8:27am on a Saturday?” He teased with a smile on his face. No matter what time it was, Derek was ready to listen.

“I got this box and I don’t know what it is. I just want someone to be around when I open it.” You informed him, sitting down next to the box. You should probably be standing, just in case you had to make a run for it but you were too worried about getting it open to think that far ahead.

“Alright,” He said, urging you to open it. You nodded to him, setting up the phone so he could you see and the box in the frame. You carefully tore off the tape, and let out a sigh of relief when nothing happened when it moved. You lifted the flaps slowly, taking a loud gasp when you saw it was. You hoped Derek didn’t see, and moved quickly to pick up your phone to hang up before he could.

“It’s not a bomb! I’m good, thanks Derek!” You rushed, hanging up before he could say anything. Your eyes didn’t leave the box as you let your arms fall to your sides. Sitting inside of it was a small, pink rose toy. A vibrator. That you definitely didn’t order.

You grabbed the box, hoping none of your neighbors saw it. It’s not that masturbation was wrong or immoral or that you didn’t partake, it was just weird if the people around you were aware of your toys.

So, you made sure your door was tightly closed before putting the box on the table and digging through it. There was all the normal things, the vibrator itself, large bubble wrap, and a paper receipt with the name of the product: Intimately GG Rose Suction Simulator from Pink Cherry.

However, there was another piece of paper at the bottom of the box. It was a typed note that read, “I hope this helps us go back to normal. A.H”. You knew exactly one person with the initials A.H. so it wasn’t rocket science to figure out who had ordered you this sex toy.

You weren’t sure if you were more turned on or embarrassed.

Aaron was your boss. Your kind, protective, strong, hot, sexy, boss. But still your boss. You wondered if this is something he would’ve done for someone like Emily or Penelope if they’d been in your predicament. It clicked quickly that it definitely wasn’t, and that made you special in Aaron Hotchner’s eyes.

So, you made a mental note to give him a call, after you tried out your toy. Luckily, you had your cleaning solution and an old bottle of lube from your past encounters. You made quick work of getting the toy clean and finding a video to help you get yourself off.

Of course, the man in the video was a white man who was bit older, with broad shoulders and black hair. No coincidence there.

You started with your boobs, taking time to massage each one before pulling on and pinching them to get yourself warmed up. Between the sounds coming from the video and the excitement of finally having time to yourself, your hands didn’t take long to move downwards, tracing along the length of your body. One hand continued caressing your side as the other made its way to your core.

The thought of Aaron going out of his way to help you get off and the visual of a man who looked similar to him getting his dick sucked had you borderline dripping on your bedsheets as you used your hand to start toying with your clit. You started with small circles, matching the speed of the girl sucking Aaron’s lookalike’s dick.

You stayed like this for a while, allowing yourself to go slow, really take your time pleasuring yourself. The guy in the video had already finished on the girl’s tits by the time you reached for your rose toy. You didn’t need the visual anymore, perfectly crafting dirty scenarios of your unit chief in your head.

You started on low. There was gentle sucking on your clit as you imagined the way Aaron would kiss. He’s experienced, you know that for sure. You could imagine the way he’d start gentle, maybe even cupping your face as he pulled you close. He’d let you feel like you were in charge, before his tongue made its way inside your mouth. His dominant side would take over, using his body to press you against whatever surface you were sat on.

As you fantasized about his dominant side, you cranked up the toy to the next level. You let out a loud moan at the new feeling. Your free hand moved back to your breast, squeezing, while you did your best to imagine Aaron’s large hands doing it instead.

You could feel the coil in your tummy getting tighter and tighter as you imagined Aaron slowly stripping your body, dragging his hand along each and every curve. With a sharp pinch to your nipple and a cry of Aaron’s name, you came undone all over your rose toy.

You could feel your slick dripping down your hand as you worked yourself through your orgasm, making sure to enjoy it for as long as you could. You wished you could savor this feeling. It was the strongest, best orgasm you’d ever had. Nothing could compare to the euphoria you felt right now.

You flicked the toy off and sat it to the side once the feeling became too much. You couldn’t bring yourself to move from your position. “Fuck,” you breathed out, trying to relax the hard rise and fall of your chest.

Once you were able to relax, you made your way to the shower. You knew you had to call Aaron, but you needed to be much more relaxed than you were right now to have that conversation. The sting from the hot water helped ground you, allowing you to clear your mind. After you cleaned yourself, you cleaned the toy and put everything in your nightstand drawer for future use.

Then, you reached for your cellphone. You quickly found Aaron’s personal number and hit the call button before you could overthink what you were doing. He picked up on the second ring. “Hotchner,” he said, probably out of habit. “Hello, Aaron,” you smiled. This is the conversation you’d had with him in a while that didn’t make you feel nervous. “Hello,” he echoed with your name. You didn’t know, but he was smirking on the other side of the phone. He’d been waiting for this call.

“You sent me a gift?” You asked. “I did. Have you received it?” He wasn’t sure what grew more, his smirk or his cock. “I have. I’ve opened it and took it for a test run as well.” The way you two were beating around the bush was a turn on, but the way he sounded so self-assured, as if he knew what you were going to say, had you clenching your thighs together.

“How did it perform?” Aaron questioned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table in front of him. This tightened the dress pants he was wearing against his hardened cock. “Very well,” You smiled. “I’m happy to hear that. I hope this is the end of all of your weird behavior.” Aaron chuckles. Just the sound of his laugh has you reaching your hand to squeeze the fat of your thighs.

“What weird behavior, Aaron?” You questioned, teasingly. This conversation is very different than any you’d had before, and it was turning you. You didn’t think it was possible with the strong orgasm you’d maybe an hour ago. But, Aaron was a special individual. He had that effect on you.

“You were avoiding me,” He scoffed. “I don’t know if I was. I think it was self-control,” You smiled, knowing you were baiting him. Without missing a beat, he took the bait, “And why did you need to practice self-control?”

Aaron leaned back in his chair, opting to press his hand against his cock instead of using the soft fabric to provide some kind of friction. He needed more, that much he knew.

“Because I was trying not to jump your bones, Aaron.” You breathed out. Your words had him squeezing his bulge, feeling like he could bust just from knowing you were attracted to him. “Fuck,” Aaron groaned into the phone. You giggled at his reaction, moving to press your hand against your core, again.

“Tell me about your toy,” He demanded, finally using the authoritarian tone that helped you get into this situation in the first time. “So you can touch yourself while I do?” You questioned, assuming he was in the same position as you. “Is that okay?” He questioned. “Of course it is, Aaron.” You promised, and used your permission as an excuse to unbutton his pants, and shove his hand under the waistband of his boxers.

As you started talking, he spread the precum, that’s been oozing from his pretty pink tip since he saw your contact name, along the length of his dick. “It was so good, Aaron. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah?” Aaron encouraged you to keep going as he started stroking his cock. “Yeah,” You whined out, “I wish you could’ve seen me. My legs were shaking and I was leaking so much.” You smirked as you heard him groan in to the phone. His strokes had quickened in length. All he could picture was you spread out on his bed, cumming around his cock.

“What did you think about while you came?” You were surprised he was able to get the question out, especially because he only stuttered once. You wished you could see the way he squeezed his eyes together as he tugged on his cock. “You, obviously. I was thinking about your lips and your hands. I finished before I could get to the good part. I wanted to picture you fucking me from behind, pressing my face into the mattress.”

You were going to continue describing your fantasy to him, but he cut you off with a “Fuck!” as he came down his hands.

The line was silent for a few minutes before you spoke, “Hey, Aaron?” He hummed out a “yeah?”, before you asked, “Do you want to come over?”

“Give me ten minutes,” He promised, “and have the toy out.”

Well, you couldn’t refuse that.

[mrsparrasblog]

You're losing me pt 4.

prev part. part 1 next part

TW: Drug use, mentioned rape, mention of violence, medic is the worst human on earth

Simon sat down next to Johnny on his bed, holding the Scotsman's hand while giving him a reassuring nod. "We have the whole day time."

"It's complicated."

"I will understand."

"Promise to believe me."

"Promise." Simon didn't know exactly what had happened or how Johnny got this way. He always admired Johnny for his confidence and the way he made everything seem so easy. Seeing his boyfriend like this broke his heart. He knew Johnny would never cheat on you; he loved you, everyone loved you. He remembered that one day Johnny got piss drunk on a mission and a bird approached him. He showed her pictures of you for 10 minutes, telling everyone he had the most beautiful lass on earth. This man wouldn’t cheat, especially not with her, definitely not his type.

Simon thought she had just gone into Johnny's bed at night, removing her clothes and gaslighting him that he cheated. But when Johnny told him everything about the drugs, about the rape, about the way she tried to blackmail him, he felt like he needed to throw up. He was too young to protect his mother from this. He couldn’t do anything when it happened to him. He didn’t know you when it happened to you. But this time, he was going to kill the rapist. "You’re a good man. Don’t let her manipulate you into something you aren’t."

"I feel like shit."

"This won’t go away easy, love."

"I don’t know what to do." And he really didn’t know. Everything seemed and felt so lost. Simon believed him, right? But what if she tells everyone he raped her? It will be over with his military career. After she pulled that stunt you wouldn’t believe him anymore. The look in your eyes almost broke him completely. This was wrong. It went too easy for her like she had done this many times before or had been planning this for years. It was too easy.

"Let me fix it for you, Johnny." He was determined to do this. Through his head already went 1000 ideas on how to kill her. But every way was too easy, too nice for her. Rip her head off. Sell her off to the black market so she will experience first-hand the crimes she did to others. Burn her alive. Many possibilities.

"Don’t kill her, Lieutenant."

"You know she will do it again. Not only to you but to others."

"Do you think she already did this?" Johnny fiddled with his wrist. The bracelet that you bought him to help with his ADHD was gone. It always calmed him. You told him how you searched through whole Etsy to find some gems that should calm him down. He didn’t believe this shit, but it indeed calmed him down since it reminded him of you. And right now, you were the only thing he needed. He needed you to tell him that he isn’t dirty, that he isn’t at fault, that he is a good man.

"Would explain why she was transferred so fast to us from her old unit."

"Fuck." This needed to stop. He couldn’t let that happen to more innocent people.

"Let’s talk to Price, then I’ll take care of her, and after that, we get our girl back." Simon missed you just as much as Johnny did. For a split second, he was afraid that you were mad and disappointed that he didn’t check on you. But that wasn’t the selfless girl he fell in love with. He knew you would understand if you only knew. He could already imagine how you would apologize even though you didn’t do anything wrong. You were different than the medic scum.

"Do you think she’ll take us back?"

"Yes, promise." He placed a small kiss on the shaved part of Johnny's mohawk, a small gesture that the Scot always loved. Simon always knew how to calm him down. With that, they left in the direction of Price's office.

-------------------------------

He woke up with an immense headache and the urge to throw up. John really drank too much the last few days, but this will end now. He will concentrate on you and the job again. You forgave him for lying, at least that was the last thing he remembered before you brought him to his bed. On his bedside table stood a glass of water and one of your self-made brownies with a small note. "Take care of yourself, bear." You always jokingly called him a bear because that was what he was to you. John was the big cuddly bear who always kept you safe.

He knew by the amount of alcohol he drank yesterday, he should probably head to the medical department for some meds. He would never tell anyone, though. He was a hypocrite sometimes, always letting the other hungover soldiers run miles to torture them for being so irresponsible to drink before training. But he could afford the luxury of taking meds against his hangover.

So John went to the medical. He was annoyed when he only saw her there.

"Hello, Captain." She smiled brightly, which made him almost throw up on the spot. There was always a difference between the real, sweet-like-a-cake, like his girl, and the artificial acting sweetness she faked. It was disgusting. "Is there another medic or nurse in here today?"

"No, sorry, Captain."

"I'll go then."

"Come on, Captain, be professional. What do you need?"

"Just something against my hangover." He can be professional and still respect you, right? You won’t be mad he talked to her.

"That was easy. I'll bring you something."

She came back, still with that creepy artificial sweet smile. In her hand was a glass of water with, judging by the displaced white particles, meds. "Just some pain meds against headache and dehydration. Drink up, Captain, and then stay here for 20 minutes for the next med."

John drank it up. After a few minutes of sitting in the chair, he felt his limbs tingle weirdly. This must be one of those side effects of the meds.

"How are you feeling, baby?" Weird name.

"Don’t call me that." He tried to leave, but it felt like his body didn’t do the things he wanted anymore like he was paralyzed.

"I wouldn’t do that, John."

"What was in there?" This can’t be fucking true. This is one of those weird drunk dreams.

"Oh, baby, just some mild paralyzer. Don’t worry, it only lasts three hours, and you can still talk. That’s great, isn’t it? Oh, and Viagra."

Fuck, this is true. This is how she got Johnny. She is fucking sick. "What do you want?"

"You know, I really tried to be nice, but you all only talk about her all the time, so I took matters into my own hands." She said as she slowly sat down on his lap. John tried hard to do anything, but he wasn’t able to move.

"Look, you’re a pretty girl. You don’t need us. There is someone who loves you." He tried to be nice, and use his words to come out of this situation, but she already removed his pants. He knew it was over there until he heard the sudden voices of Johnny and Simon. He knew she could never outsmart them, and she knew it too.

"Fuck, fuck," she screamed, gathering the remaining meds and her things. She ran out of the room the second she saw the door open.

"Fucking hell, Captain, you're okay?"

"That fucking cunt drugged me. Get a fucking nurse here." This all didn’t go like Simon's plan. It felt like she was always a step ahead of them.

----------------------------------------

Kyle didn't notice any of the drama going on in medical as he used his time in the gym. Well, more of texting you instead of being productive, until.

"Fucking hell."

------

Tag list: @littlechomper @ab12305 @darkangel4121

A/N: I know you are waiting for her downfall, it will come promise.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

w for wheezie

words: 1.5k

warnings: very wheezie heavy i stan her, established relationship, physical violence!, descriptions of blood, rafe vs pogues, cameron family drama

“what do you think?” you hold up two letters, each silver with diamonds encrusted in them. “w for wheezie or l for louisa?”

“umm…” wheezie looks at the charms, tapping her chin, eyes flicking back and forth between the two.”

“i would say both, but…” you shrug, leaving the decision up to her.

“i think w because everyone calls me wheezie.” she decides.

“perfect.” you smile, looking at the chain lengths next. you love spending time with wheezie, especially when its shopping days like today where you take her to the mall or whatever store she wants.

usually rafe would accompany you, always hanging back to allow you to gossip, even if it was about him and your relationship. he’d only appear when you headed to the cash register, supplying his credit card to pay for whatever clothes or accessories you got.

“we should stop by sephora next.” you say as the cashier rings up your jewelry, various bracelets and necklaces, along with a chain and ring you bought for rafe (or really he bought for himself as you hand the cashier his card, but at least you picked it out).

“i need a new foundation for the summer.” wheezie says. it makes you pout for a moment, thinking about how grown up she is. you’ve been friends with rafe since middle school and used to play barbies with wheezie and take her to the american girl doll store, and now you’re taking her to buy makeup and try on dresses for homecoming.

“maybe a tinted moisturizer.” you remark, walking with bags in your hand to sephora.

--

“i would call this a successful haul.” you giggle as you load up your car, having to put bags in the backseat as well once the trunk is full. you turn on a playlist of yours and wheezies favorite songs, having different playlists ready for whoever you’re with.

it’s practical to buy so much at one time since you made the almost two hour drive to norfolk to visit the mall, and probably won’t be back for a long time. you prefer staying in the outer banks to shop, but it’s not always possible with the limited number of stores.

“do you think you have time next week to take me to get my haircut?” wheezie asks, already looking a bit like a mini you, and you have no doubt she’ll ask for a similar haircut.

“of course, wheezie girl!” you nod before letting out a squeal when one of your favorite songs come on, you both belting out the words as you make your way back towards tanneyhill, driving through marshy swamplands, little towns and finally crossing over the bridge.

you pull up the driveway, surprised how eerily quiet it seems to be. usually rafe would be running out the door to make sure you didn’t carry anything in.

“stay in the car for a sec wheezie girl…” you have a strange feeling building, and you always trust your gut. you look back to make sure she doesn’t follow you as you walk into the house to hear muffled grunting.

“rafe?” you call out, your cautious footsteps turning into a run as you make your way further into the house until you see rafe being held up by john b, jjs arm pushing forward to punch him in the gut.

“stop it!” you shout, running in to push jj away, but the second rafe is out of john bs tight hold, he turns to attack them, bravely taking on both in a flair of fists.

“stop it, rafe!” you shout, pulling at his arm. he only pauses when he feels your gentle touch, but john b doesn’t quit, reaching out to hit rafe again, right in the nose as he instantly starts to bleed.

“sarah!” you scream, finally noticing her in the corner of the room, sat with a glazed look in her eye with her knees pulled up to her chest. “stop your freaking attacking dog boyfriend!” you step between the boys, all three of them panting heavily, rafes nose dripping blood down the front of his shirt.

“we are fucking rescuing her!” jj says, puffing his chest up.

“what?” you turn to look at sarah, waiting for an explanation.

“rafe tried to lock me in the house.” she finally says, seeming to shake out of whatever daze she’s in as she stands up. “he tried to stop me from seeing john b.”

“im just trying to do whats best for you, sarah.” rafe says, his voice sounding hoarse from the fight. “he’s a bad guy.”

“no he’s not!” sarah shouts, no doubt going to start in on tirade when you hold your hand up.

“sarah, go with john b. just…” you let out a deep sigh. “get out of here. be back by dark though.” you shoo her away. no way she’s going to actually listen to you and be back by sundown, but at least it gives you time to figure out what’s going on and tend to rafe.

you turn to watch them leave, frown appearing on your face when you see wheezie standing there, looking like a scared little girl you once knew.

“wheeze-” you call to her, but she runs up her stairs into her room, slamming her door loudly. a problem for later, you decide as you turn to rafe.

“come on, baby, lets get you cleaned up.” you say softly, trying to lessen the anger so visible on his features. you lead rafe into the kitchen, wetting a rag with warm water as you gently drag it over his face, feeling tears well up in your eye when you see his busted lip.

“how was shopping? did you have fun?” rafe asks, making you glare at him.

“don’t you dare try to change the topic, rafe cameron. what happened?” you sigh.

“john b and those pogues are fucking criminals. there’s someone who has been robbing houses, and i don’t doubt it’s those fucking-” rafe lets out an angry grunt when you press the washcloth against his cheek, a bruise already forming. “im just trying to protect my family.”

“sarah isn’t a kid anymore, you gotta let her protect herself.” you say softly. “besides, wheezie seeing you all beat up and bloodied isn’t-”

“it was only because it was two against one.” rafe counters.

“baby.” you shake your head. “you’re missing the point. you have no proof that they’re doing anything. trust sarah, alright? i’ll talk to her later.”

“what would we do without you.” rafe smiles, cringing slightly when it stretches his lip, but it doesn't stop him from pressing his mouth against yours, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“you deserve the cameron last name more than sarah does.” rafe says, holding you tight against him, feeling your hands shaking slightly. “gonna marry you one day.”

“alright, buddy.” you giggle, making rafe roll his eyes as you pull away. he loves to talk about your future together despite still being so young. you can’t say you haven’t spent time imagining it yourself. “im gonna go talk to wheeze.”

“okay.” rafe gives you another kiss before watching you walk away.

you walk softly up the stairs, tapping your knuckles against wheezies door before opening it up.

“hey, everyone is okay.” you say softly, seeing her sitting on her bed, phone in hand, no doubt scrolling to distract from anything she’s feeling.

“i’m fine.” wheezie shakes her head. she may look fine, but you can see the look in her eyes. she’s just as shaken as you are, if not more.

“it’s okay to not be, though.” you sit down on the bed next to her. “you saw your brother getting beat up, you’re allowed to not be okay with seeing that.”

“its just…” wheezie sighs. “sarah has been so different lately since she started hanging out with john b. she even lied to me the other day.”

“im sorry, wheezie girl.” you wrap her in a tight hug. “your sister loves you. she’s just a teenager, going through a rebellious phase of life. she doesn’t realize that her actions have consequences and can hurt the people she loves.”

“will you talk to her?” wheezie asks. “you always know what to say.”

“of course.” you nod, pulling away from the hug, forcing a smile on your face. “but hey, let’s go get our shopping bags.”

“okay.” wheezie manages a smile.

you walk downstairs to see rafe has already brought everything in from the car, placing it all throughout the front entrance.

you smile as wheezie instantly goes for the sephora bags as you wrap your arms around rafe, pressing your head against his chest.

“its all gonna be alright.” you tell him.

“as long as you’re with me, you’re right.” rafe presses a kiss to the top of your head, his eyes bulging when he sees the dress wheezie pulls out. 

“you are not wearing that-” he begins to argue, finger wagging just like his dad would.

“it’s not for me, its for y/n!” wheezie argues.

“oh.” rafe looks down at you, noting the blush spread across your cheeks. “well, you can wear that but only for me.”

“rafe!” you squeal while wheezie makes a grossed out face.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewsephrry

[w00d1and]

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘༘ florida wind + troubles

➯ y/n is at a race where she runs into a high school memory she’d like to forget. thankfully ollie comes to her rescue.

➯ very fearful to post my first little writing but i tried my darndest so enjoy or not. constructive criticism is welcome 🌷

➯ warnings: high school bullies but hey we got ollie standing up for y/n!!

the rosso corsa sundress billowed in the soft yet humid miami wind. the peace of being back in beachy paradise felt like she was almost floating on a cloud while she flowed through the familiar paddock, speaking to fans and collecting gifts for ollie.

her sunglasses were pushed up to her head as she slid friendship bracelets onto her wrist, taking photos with fans while simultaneously collecting letters and plushies for her boyfriend. after it seemed most of the fans had been noticed and all important gifts had been placed carefully in her beige tote bag she began the walk back to the ferrari motorhome, passing the jet black mercedes garage as she goes. 

she doesn’t think twice as she passes other paddock goers, walking by two girls waiting near the mercedes motorhome until a familiar italian face pops his head out waving to the girl skipping along her way through the floridan paddock. a simple wave and smile to kimi is given before she continues on until a hand grabs her freckled arm and her journey back is cut short.

a quick squeal and she jumps back, heart thumping through her chest as the sunglasses previously rested atop her head, fall to the sidewalk and she meets the eyes of who stopped her. it felt as if every single high school memory flooded back to her in a second. the insults, the rude looks, the violence for a girl she’d tried to forget.

“y/n? long time no see, finally got to a race, i see.” the girl’s arms crossed over the sky blue dress, one y/n adored with its contrast against the hateful girl’s tan skin. 

“oh, yeah. you know my boyfriend got me paddock passes.” she let out an awkward laugh, twisting the ends of her sunglasses in her hands, desperately trying get this conversation to end faster. why years later did she have to run into her old high school “friend”?

“oh? where is he?” the girl stood behind her blast from the past asked, a matching dress in moss green adorning her body as she smirked at the memory of a girl.

“oh he’s just waiting for me in uhm, ferrari.” she spoke vaguely, trying desperately not to let them in on her private life even more than she already had.

“you don’t have to lie to us, y/n. it’s okay if momma bought the tickets for you.” the girl faked a frown. while y/n let out a deep breath, currently hoping and praying anyone would come pull her away, unfortunately the small curly headed mercedes driver seemed to disappear after a quick greeting from his close friend’s girlfriend.

“listen, i just want to enjoy my day with my boyfriend.” y/n tried to brush off the conversation, gently as the people pleaser she always was and will be.

“oh shut up like you actually have a boyfriend. give it up, if i don’t have one right now then you certainly can’t.” her old friend groaned, her hands dropping down to her sides in exasperation. almost as if she genuinely didn’t believe the girl stood before he once again, but who was she kidding she most definitely didn’t believe y/n.

just as she felt as though it would never end a hand snaked around her waist and the familiar british accent spoke beside her.

“hello amore mio, i was waiting for you.” (my love) y/n could barely turn her head before ollie turned her head for her and gave her a sweet yet short peck she’d never get tired of. 

“oh uhm just got caught up.” she smiled at him, leaning on his shoulder as he looked towards the girls. after years he could read the girl before him like a book and obviously these people were a bother, he just couldn’t figure out how.

“oh? i’m oliver.” he nodded towards the two girls who seemed gobsmacked,  both rushing to speak to their old celebrity crush.

“oh my gosh ollie, i love you so much. i’m an old friend of y/n.” the previously harsh girl put her best smile on her face with a hand extended, promptly ignored by ollie.

“it’s oliver.” ollie corrected and y/n couldn’t help but let a small smile through at his sternness before he whisked her away back to ferrari, her dress twirling making her feel like a less woodsy, more motor oil version of giselle from enchanted.

“do you know i love you?” y/n looked up at the ferrari driver, a genuine smile shone up to him as he smiled back down, his happiness stemming from her sunshine smile.

“and i. love. you.” ollie fit a kiss between each word as they entered his driver’s room before she pulled away with a series of giggles.

“thanks for saving me from my high school bully.” her voice barely above a whisper, as her eyes searched the briton’s face. her eyes filled with memories flashing through them, her mind only brought back to the present by ollie’s voice.

“you’re welcome love, it’s my offical duty as your lovely f1 driver boyfriend.” y/n gave a playful smack to his chest before rolling her eyes at his joking ego. with a small laugh she pulled him back into a hug so tight he thought he might loose his head to her  love before any crash into a barrier. after her hold loosened ollie pulled back with pure love in his eyes before sighing in contentment at the girl before him. her gorgeous eyes staring back at him with her hair slightly tangled from the florida wind. oh how he would protect her from everyone who troubled her. anytime, anywhere.

[aircd]

✮⋆˙ yandere¡cheerleader¡bully (fem) ✮⋆˙

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩ

((Warnings: mentions of stalking, bullying, homophobic slurs, physical violence, degradation.))

———————————𓆩♡𓆪———————————-

———————————𓆩♡𓆪———————————-

yandere¡cheerleader¡bully That stares at you the entire game on the field, winking occasionally making you confused as to if she’s flirting or hinting you’ll be shoved into a wall later.

yandere¡cheerleader¡bully Who will straight up call you a loser and worthless, but as soon as anyone else does the same she has an outburst and targets them instead for the rest of the semester.

yandere¡cheerleader¡bully That gets real close and personal infront of her friend group flirting but any reaction you have she laughs with her friends and shouts “what a dyke!, did you guys see that.!”

yandere¡cheerleader¡bully Who’s never had a boyfriend herself but makes it very apparent you’re a loser for not having one, and whispers in your ear “no man will ever love you.”

yandere¡cheerleader¡bully That once saw you in the hall alone between classes crying and asked “what’s wrong with you dipshit?” as you told her about a girl who’s been berating you for months she left without saying a word; next period the same girl you told her about was walking out of the gym with a black eye and sniffling, 5 minutes later she walks out with her usual perfect ponytail now frizzy and between her Pom poms you could see her bruised knuckles, The girl never bothered you again. She and you have never mentioned the incident since.

yandere¡cheerleader¡bully Who used to once a month pull you under the bleachers while no one was watching and push you against the wall whispering dirty things in your ears and kissing you up and down, she’d usually leave calling you some slur and said it was just to test if you’re still a “fag”. Now she does this at least once a week.

yandere¡cheerleader¡bully That somehow knows very personal things to insult you about in front of everyone making you wonder how she knows so much about you despite you never telling her anything. she totally doesn’t read your diary.

yandere¡cheerleader¡bully That unexpectedly insists on walking you home and sometimes doesn’t even ask and will silently follow behind you, when you turn around she’ll wink and wave rolling her eyes as if you’re the one that made her follow you.

yandere¡cheerleader¡bully Who invites you to her annual sleepovers, just for you to find out you’re the only one who was invited; these “sleepovers” usually entail her asking (forcing) you to dress up in her cheer uniform and doing your makeup for practice “in case she needs someone to fill in” and silently watches you perform degrading routines until she’s satisfied, in the mornings you’ll notice a couple of your belongings missing and she’ll deny doing anything. You might see her the next day wearing one of your sweaters smiling at you tauntingly.

yandere¡cheerleader¡bully That once made a bracelet for you and gets pissed when you don’t wear it. You felt very uncomfortable looking closely at it realizing it has strings of some of her hair and yours?! maybe that explains why you thought your hair was cut at her sleepovers.

yandere¡cheerleader¡bully Who finally pushed you over the edge and saw you lash out on her finally standing up for yourself while practically crying you were so angry. She was furious you started ignoring her and staring at her blankly when she’d do her daily ritual of degrading you. She eventually followed you home like usual then pushed you up against a tree and started forcefully kissing you sloppily shoving her tongue down your throat, finally pulling back and staring at your shocked face. “Now will you listen to me.?!” She says. You started to yell at her “why do you do this.?! Is it funny to you or something.!?”. Her face drops and she starts to cry “because I love you, you fucking idiot.!” “What..?! s-stop it.. I know what you’re doing.!” You say. “I- I- I love you.. I can’t ever get you off of my mind.. I think about you 24-7.. m-maybe t-too much..” she says while crying and panting. “I- I- always thought you hated me..”. “No.?! Listen you better not tell anyone about this or I’ll fucking kill you.!” She says before kissing you again and walking away while wiping her tears. She stayed silent for a week after that not even giving you a mean look.

[star-girl69]

American Teenager

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: you get caught in the crossfire of clarisse’s anger, and have to convince clarisse you love every part of her.

a/n: i took over a year off, cut you bitches some slack…… TELL A FRIEND TO TELL A FRIEND… SHE’S BAAAAAACKKKK!!!!!!!!!

for those who do not know, i changed my theme. yes it is me. do you like it 😀

American Teenager - Ethel Cain

warnings: NOT BETA READ!!!, ending sucks yet again but i cant be bothered, y/n gets PUNCHED!!!!!!, creepy men, violence, very sad clarisse, IT IS VERY HARD FOR HER TO TALK ABOUT HER FEELINGS BUT SHE TRIES, swearing, usual demigod stuff, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Clarisse is angry.

She has been angry all of her life, you know that. She was born with a fire in her veins that came straight from her godly father, potent and rolling around inside of her like a storm, a rabid dog biting at a cage, and nurtured over the years by a stern mother.

Clarisse was a recipe for destruction, for pain, for suffering. That’s what most people thought she was. They all thought she was her father’s daughter- full of fire, and she would never be anything else except the mean bully all the campers had grown to somewhat resent.

But she was more than that. She was your girl, she was everything you wanted and had prayed for years for. You knew she was angry, you knew she carried regret in her heart, you knew she ate up anything nice inside of her long ago.

But you didn’t care.

You gave her some of your own softness, your own nicety, drew it out of her with soft touches and sweet words, until she learned to love you and believed that she was the girl you always saw hidden inside.

Clarisse is angry.

You know that, you know the harsh girl you fell in love with, and you know the sweet girl she really is.

So, it’s no surprise to you that Clarisse has spent the entire afternoon glued to your side, glaring at anyone who walks by- but particularly her brother, Caden.

Caden has some sort of inferiority complex coupled with extreme sexism. He couldn’t stand the fact Clarisse was better than him, that she was the camp counselor instead of him. She had received her beloved spear from their father, he had no gifts to show.

Somewhere in his fucked up head he realized he couldn’t force his father to notice him, couldn’t uproot Clarisse from her counselor position, and though the next best thing was to go after you.

It started with glances that lasted too long, then subtle touches during camp activities, then actively flirting with you when Clarisse wasn’t around.

The only reason Caden had been allowed to this for this long was because you didn’t want to tell Clarisse and be responsible for what could very possibly be Caden’s death. You felt dirty, having his hands on you, barely-hidden sexual remarks whispered in your ear, his eyes on you- practically undressing you.

Clarisse would kill him if she knows what he’s done, how it makes you feel. And you really don’t want blood on your hands, so you avoid him as much as possible and attach yourself to Clarisse.

It’s a rare afternoon that you both have free, and it’s snatched with greedy hands and stretched out long like molasses, the two of you move slow and leisurely, try to sink into this time together.

You promised your sister you would help with the arts and crafts class she runs, spewing something about how you’re the best at making friendships bracelets- but really, her usual partner is on a quest and taking care of the rowdy 12 year olds is not an individual task.

So, here you are, sitting at a picnic table and making sample bracelets, feeling the sun on your face and Clarisse’s arms around you. She sits sideways, her front pressed against your side, straddling the bench. She watches the way the sun hits your face, the way your fingers move swiftly as you continue to bead and tie together.

There’s been this pit in your stomach since Caden started his advances- like a new organ had formed inside of you, pure black instead of a usual pink flesh. A physical form of all your guilt and disgust, filled with the dirt like you felt like.

It’s still there, even through the gaps of hot sunlight, the cooling shade of the tree above, but it’s easier to ignore when Clarisse is there. It’s easier to ignore, but it’s still there.

“I don’t understand how you’re so good at those,” Clarisse mumbles. She kisses your shoulder and you dig your feet into the dirt, smiling to yourself.

“I don’t either,” you smile. “What can I say? I’m the queen of friendship bracelets.”

“Ha,” she says, somewhat sarcastically, but you can hear the fond, loving smile in her voice. “How much longer?” she asks.

“Two more. Maybe 10 more minutes?”

“Okay,” she hums, drawing out the word. “Wanna get somethin’ to eat after this?”

“Yeah,” you say, looking away from the bracelets for just a second- to admire her like she gets to admire you.

“Nah, nah, you better finish those bracelets so I can have all your attention on me again.” She presses her face against yours, pushing you to face forward again and focus.

She departs with a kiss to corner of your lips, and you wonder if you really need all six example bracelets, but you know your sister would kill you if you didn’t show up tomorrow with six. You sigh and turn back to your bracelets, listening to the sweet sound of Clarisse laughing.

“Okay,” she says, leaning closer to you after a minute. “I’ll be back in a few, okay? I’m just gonna go change into shorts.”

“Okay,” you smile, and she squeezes your waist as she stands up. The feeling inside of you sinks in even more, the blackness in your stomach, but you focus on the feeling of the sun and her promise that she’ll come back soon.

“First time I’ve seen you alone in weeks.”

Your stomach sinks.

You’re a demigod and you deal with monsters and the whims of gods daily- but there’s something about humans, about demigods that makes you especially scared.

A step below a God, filled with resentment and blessed with superhuman abilities.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt fear like this.

You glance up at him, quickly gathering all your bracelet supplies, shoving it into the pockets of your jeans without much care.

You force a smile, pretend like nothing’s wrong.

“Sorry,” you say. “I’m just leaving. Nice seeing you, Caden!”

“Why you leavin’ so quick, baby?”

“Meeting Clarisse,” you smile through gritted teeth.

“Well, I just saw my sister walk away so… are you lying to me, Y/N?” he laughs slightly, almost as if the idea of you not being completely observing of his will is unheard of, laughable.

“Yeah, I was just finishing up.” You shove a pile of beads into your pocket, moving for the next one-

His hand covers yours.

“You don’t look done. Sit down, huh?”

You glance around the courtyard, not even bothering to hide your fear like you were taught- at the sight of him, his tall stature, the fact he could easily overpower you- you forget everything you ever learned and turn into a puddle of fear. You’re fucking terrified, and it would be humiliating if it wasn’t just the most basic human tendencies preserving in you.

You can’t be embarrassed about biology, about what your human body was designed to do. At the end of the day, your blood is red- not gold.

“No, no, I really gotta go.” You rip your hand away, mourning the loss of a few beads that didn’t quite escape with you. Instead of dwelling on that, you quickly turn around and head towards the main pavilion, where there are more campers- maybe you can find Matty or Carrie, another one of Clarisse’s siblings who would just get him off your back.

But, he follows. Of course he follows. He’s a man who’s never been told no, and he won’t be refused by you.

“Y/N,” he drawls, voice still teasing.

You clench your fists and walk faster, finally risking a glance over your shoulder- you slam into a familiar warm body you have spent countless nights with, now wearing a pair of jean shorts.

One hand swings around your waist, the other sits over her hip- where her favorite dagger is hidden.

“Y/N?” she asks, not taking her eyes off of Caden, but her voice is soft and full of concern.

“Nothing, Clar. It’s fine, let’s just go, yeah?”

She looks at you for just a second, and you haven’t had time to school your features back into a flat facade, so there’s still fear all over your face.

“What the fuck did you do, Caden?”

“Just tryin’ to spend time with Y/N. That a crime?”

He avoids calling you her girlfriend, even though that’s how most of the Ares cabin has come to know you.

“Yeah,” she says, slightly incredulously. “You hit your head too hard? She’s my fuckin’ girlfriend. I don’t know what you did, but don’t do it again.”

It’s like a sixth sense, the way you feel his eyes rake down your body, lingering on your ass. The blackness inside of you squeezes, and you feel the sudden urge to throw up, squeezing your eyes shut-

Clarisse tugs you behind her.

“Don’t fucking look at her, Caden.”

Her voice is level in barely-masked rage, and it honestly would scare you a little bit- if it wasn’t for the way her hand caressed your hip so softly.

“I’m not hurtin’ anyone. She probably likes it, huh?”

You wonder if he genuinely thinks he’s flirting with you, or just trying to piss Clarisse off.

Her jaw clenches.

“Four weeks laundry duty.”

His smile drops.

“Don’t fucking test me, Caden.”

You’re silently surprised at her strength, so you quickly grab her hand and squeeze, trying to urge her forward. Your stomach feels lighter, hoping that maybe- finally, finally he’ll leave you alone-

“Really, Clarisse?” The edge of desperation in his tone is pathetic. “You’re gonna choose her over your own half-brother. We both know who’d she choose between the two of us though, huh? The stronger one. The better one. She’d choose the son.”

She drops your hand and spins around.

“Clarisse,” you warn. “Clarisse.”

But she seems to be lost in her own world, where everything narrows down to him and the cocky look on his face, memory of his words, and you know any trace of your sweet girl is gone and it’s just the anger.

You quickly push yourself in between them, putting your hands out to Clarisse- you feel sort of stupid, but you’re desperate for her to just turn around, to take you with her, for the two of you to do like she said and get something to eat. You want to eat by the beach with her, you want to feel her in the sun, you wanna let yourself believe that four weeks of laundry duty will deter him.

“Y/N,” she says, warning you, and you know she won’t stop.

“Clarisse, I’m telling you, turn around. He’s not worth it.”

You can hear his smile.

“You won’t be saying that when I finally get my hands on you, baby.”

Fuck.

“Clarisse!” you shout, knowing its coming- she aims around you, pushing you out of the way as she sets a deadly punch on path with his face.

But it doesn’t hit him. It doesn’t hit him, and he gasps in shock before quickly running away, not wanting to deal with the consequences of his actions.

And you can’t blame him, because with your knees on the ground and the sting of Clarisse’s fist on your cheek- you should have just let her fucking kill him.

—-

Clarisse hasn’t looked at you in two weeks.

After you fell to the ground, completely disoriented by her punch, you remember the sound of her screaming and Caden laughing as he ran away. You remember her hands shaking as she helped you up, touching you as little as possible, staring at her now red knuckles.

Although you really didn’t have to, she led you to the healers, and one of the Apollo kids looked at your swelling eye, gave you something for the pain, and said you could leave.

And then, she made sure you got home safe to your cabin and hasn’t looked at you again.

In hindsight, knowing that that was the end of the relationship you used to have, it feels like a bad goodbye for something so good. You can’t even call it a goodbye, because it wasn’t good at all. There should have been something. Something more.

You remember the way Clarisse couldn’t stop staring at her bruised knuckles, you remember the way she couldn’t look you in your eyes, couldn’t touch you- wouldn’t allow herself to touch you.

That night, the relationship you had with Clarisse ended. But, you were still as in love with her as ever, you didn’t blame her for simply trying to protect you- you were the person who stepped in front of her. One second you weren’t there, the next you were. She didn’t have time to pull her punch, she didn’t have time to aim somewhere else- you don’t blame her.

You remember her saying she was sorry as she helped you to the healers. Sorry, over and over again. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby, Y/N, sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. You almost asked her to stop saying it, because the word was starting to sound weird. You almost told her it was unnecessary-because it was- but you didn’t get the chance. She made sure you got home safe to your cabin. She said she was sorry again, and then two weeks of torture commenced.

And you’re fucking sick of it. Sick of her acting like a coward, running away instead of owning up to the consequences of her actions- you aren’t mad at her for punching you. You never were.

You’re mad at her for leaving you in the days after, the nights where you couldn’t sleep on your favorite side because of the bruise. The nights where you would yawn and tears would well in your eyes, and it burned as it rolled down the sensitive skin. The nights where you would forget, and you would expect her to crawl into your bed like usual- but you would fall asleep alone and wake up alone.

You’re mad at her for abandoning you, for refusing to talk to you, to figure it out. Because while what you had before is gone, you can still have something new.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” your friend Tyla asks.

“Yeah,” Jackie, your other friend, continues. “Like, she did literally punch you in the fucking face- are we sure that’s not some sort of subconscious thing?”

She shrinks at the harsh glares you and Tyla give her.

“Okay. That was mean,” she says, softly. “Sorry.”

You roll your eyes and continue walking towards the training fields, where you know the entire Ares cabin is practicing hand-to-hand skills.

“I told you,” you huff. “She was trying to protect me from Caden. She loves me, she’s just angry. Angry at herself, but she shouldn’t be.”

“What even happened to Caden?” Tyla asks, noses scrunching at the fact she has to even say his name. “I mean, I saw him walking around with that broken face but-”

“Clarisse!”

You look up to the top of the small hill, the plateau where the sparring rings are marked into the grass by eco-friendly spray paint.

She’s holding one of her siblings down, her knee on his back, her hands holding his arms behind his back.

“Stop! I tap out, I tap out, Clarisse!” The boy screams. She smiles softly before letting him go and standing up.

He lays face down on the ground for a minute, breathing heavily before he finally picks himself up- staring at Clarisse’s offered hand. After a moment, he takes it and lets her tug him up. He nods at her and walks away to his friends, moaning about his arms and his back.

Clarisse shakes out her hands and looks around, but she knows no one wants to spar with her after that, even thought even from here you can see the fire in her veins. The need for a fight, for something to distract her. The need for movement, hard and fast. The need for anger to be the only thing she can feel.

“Me next?”

“Y/N,” Tyla hisses, and Jackie reaches out to grab you but you merely shake her off.

Clarisse’s eyes lock with yours.

It takes you a second to recognize the emotion in her eyes. Her body tenses up, she seems frozen in place like a deer in headlights. She’s scared.

“Clar,” you smile, meeting her in the circle.

She tears her eyes away from you, choosing instead to stare at the grass.

“I’m not fighting you. Go.”

“I’m not asking you to fight me,” you smile. “I’m asking you to spar with me.”

She rolls her eyes.

“I’m not sparring with you.”

It’s so tense, no matter how much you try to make it like before, no matter how much you smile and try to look in her eyes.

“Can I talk with you, then?”

You shuffle closer, and she doesn’t move.

“Y/N,” she sighs. She looks up at you, but you can tell she’s staring right past you, towards the tree line. “Please don’t make me do this.”

“Do what?” you snort. “Face your feelings? Let me help you?”

Her face is level, almost bored. She turns her face into a facade, a mask of nothingness. She won’t let you in, not now, and it makes you angry.

You would take anything from her right now.

You want her to hate you. You want her to love you. You want everything and anything.

You would take another punch, as long as you got to feel her skin on yours for a split second.

You dig your foot into the ground and glare at her.

“Clarisse. I’m serious, I want to talk to you.”

Her eyes meet yours for a split second, before she’s moving.

“Too bad. Forget me,” she says over her shoulder.

She fucks up and she runs away.

“Clarisse!” you shout, following her out of the training field, out of view from the eyes that were trying and failing not to look at the two of you. “You can’t leave me here. You can’t just pretend like the last year we’ve been together didn’t happen.”

“It’s better that way,” she sighs, like she’s doing you some big favor by staying away from you, when all she’s doing is hurting you.

“It’s not!” you shout, finally surging forward and grabbing her wrist-

She whips around and tugs her wrist out of your grip.

You don’t think she’s ever once refused your touch.

It burns. It burns in your heart so badly, burns worse than any regret you could ever feel.

“Don’t,” she says, like she’s warning you. “I’m- I’m trying to protect you, okay? Just- stop bein’ fuckin’ stubborn.”

You take a dejected step back, even though all you want to do is run into her arms.

“I don’t get it,” she continues, folding her hands behind her back. Her eyes finally land on the faded bruise. “Why don’t you hate me?”

The heartbreak in her voice hurts more than the punch, than the nights without her.

“Because I love you, Clar. I don’t care about what happened, it was an accident- you’re the only one who can’t see that.”

“I hurt you.”

“The only thing that hurts is you being away from me.”

“Nah,” she says, taking a step back. She shakes her head, staring at your eye before finally turning away. “I’m only anger, Y/N. I’ll only hurt you. And I can’t take hurting you again.”

The feeling of staring at her back, the sound of her footsteps crunching in the leaves, hurts so bad it creates another new organ in your body.

This time, it’s like a tumor growing from your heart, encasing it so every beat is a struggle, every breath is ragged. This new organ carries your heartbreak, and it grows bigger by the second.

—-

It’s starting to feel like Clarisse is never going to even look at you again.

Even when you look straight at her from across the pavilion, she doesn’t look back. You stare at her back all day. The memory of her walking away from you replays in your mind every time you close your eyes.

You wonder, when it’s just you in your lonely bed, if Clarisse isn’t angry but rather scared. She’s angry at herself for hurting you, yes, but she’s terrified she’ll do it again. And you know Clarisse rarely feels fear, and you want nothing more but to help her navigate these unknown feelings- but she won’t let you in.

You don’t know how to let her help you, but you give her time. You stare at her when you hope she isn’t looking, you wrap your arms around yourself and pretend it’s her, you dream of her lips and the way she holds you, the way she loves you.

Clarisse took you to the docks for one of your dates. The fourth? The fifth? Somewhere around there, but it was the first time you kissed. Both of you had realized that you liked each other but agreed to take it slow, but you’d never forget the way she looked at you after you put the flower she brought you into your hair. The way she looked at you when you let your feet hang over the edge, kicking the water. The way your thigh pressed against hers, ankles hooked together.

You’ll never forget the way you looked up at her after dipping your fingers into the cool water, the control and self restraint finally leaving her eyes, her body, as her face sunk into a wide smile and she slammed her lips into yours.

The dock is sacred to the two of you, so when you’re missing her, especially during this sunset, this is where you go.

And it’s perfect. It’s so perfect you can almost convince yourself she’s here with you.

Except, if she was here with you, there wouldn’t be this tumor on your heart.

At the sound of his voice, the other organ your emotions have formed twists.

“This wasn’t my plan, y’know.”

“Go away, Caden,” you moan. Is it a crime to want to wallow in your own self pity? It is a crime to want the black organs inside of you to swallow you whole?

“I just wanted to knock Clarisse down a few pegs, and I certainly did that. Paid the price, too, you seen my fuckin’ face?”

It looks as horrible as it always does, you think, but you bite your tongue.

“I wanna be alone, Caden. Please.” You bite the word out like you’re a hyena choking on a laugh.

“But, c’mon.”

He steps closer to you, until you can feel him looming over you, tips of his sneakers pressing into your ass, he’s so close to you. You kick the water, annoyed, but he either doesn’t get the hint or ignores it.

“I’m not that bad, am I? Do me a favor, baby, let me cart you around for a few days and make her miserable.”

You’re about to just get up and leave all together when the sound of someone stepping onto the dock surprises you.

“Get away from her.”

But there’s something unspoken in the air. You’re just “her” now- not “my girlfriend” not “her’s.”

“Why are you always fuckin’ bothering me, Clarisse?”

You turn around. She smiles sarcastically.

“Why are you always fuckin’ bothering Y/N?”

“I’m not botherin’ her though, huh?”

He reaches down to grab at a piece of your hair, running it in between his fingers.

You flinch, but you’re more focused on the way Clarisse’s fists clench, her jaw ticks.

“Caden,” you sigh, batting his hand away.

“Seems like a pretty clear no to me, huh?”

Caden sighs and straightens, letting your hair fall from his fingers.

“What are you going to do about it, Clarisse? You gonna try and punch me- again? Try to hit the right person this time, huh?”

“Go fuck yourself, Caden.” She finally, finally, looks at you. You feel blessed and divine, like she’s a goddess who’s taken the time to merely look at you. “C’mon, Y/N.”

You scramble up to follow her beckoning hand at the same time Caden shifts on his feet.

He knocks into you, and you’re on the edge of the dock, and you scream as you fall in.

The water wasn’t that deep, but it was cold and embarrassing, and you fell at an awkward angle.

You surface, paddling to keep yourself afloat, coughing water out of your mouth and glaring up at him.

“Shit,” he swears, quickly running down the dock before you can shout some curse on his entire bloodline.

“Y/N?!” Clarisse shouts, panic on her face falling immediately at the sight of you afloat. She breathes out, fixing her hair that got all moved around in her frantic sprint down the dock. “You good?”

“Does it look like I’m good?” you deadpan.

She smiles.

“C’mon, come around to the ladder.”

She smiles as she helps you up, wrapping an arm around you even though you’re soaking wet, and you’re so mesmerized at the sight of her smiling, the feeling of her smiling at you that you can’t even comprehend it.

She has her arm wrapped around you.

She’s touching you.

Gods, did you miss this.

“Cold?” she asks, your hips pressed together as you walk down the dock.

“Yeah,” you whisper, feeling how warm she is against you. “I’ll be okay, though.”

“How long has he been… doing that?”

Your eyes meet hers.

“Jackie and Tyla told me- yelled at me, really- after they cornered me the other day. They said you were really fucked up about everything, and I should talk to you and I- I don’t know. I thought staying away was for the best.”

You cringe at the memory from a few nights ago, when you finally broke down and cried like a baby in front of your friends because of how much you missed her.

“And I saw you at the dock, and then fuckin’ Caden got over here before I could,” she laughs, dryly. “Whatever. I’ll walk you back-”

“Will you talk to me, Clar?”

You both stop, beachy sand sticks to your wet shoes, and Clarisse nervously looks away before you prod.

“I’m not mad at you. And I know you’re mad at yourself, and scared-”

She scoffs, but it’s halfhearted.

“But I love you, Clarisse. I love you, and I don’t blame you. Don’t blame yourself, and love me.”

In the sunlight, you can still see the remnants of the bruise. Softly, she reaches out and traces her pointer finger around your eye.

Her touch is so soft, the pad of her finger so rough- that sweet juxtaposition with her has always made your mind fuzzy. She makes all the tension in your body melt away. She makes everything better.

She swallows hard.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, tears welling in her eyes. “I know I’ve said it so much, but I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to hit you, I swear on my father-”

Her voice chokes up, and you can tell she hates the fact she’s crying, so you draw her into your neck and let her hide away there. Running your hands through her hair, telling her it’s okay each time she apologizes.

“I know who you are,” you say when the tears have stopped, and you’re just relishing being in each other’s arms again. “I know who I fell in love with, and I know who you are. You’re angry and you’re sweet, you’re mean and you’re kind, and I love all of it. Don’t doubt that, please.”

She breathes out before leaving the comfort of your neck, putting her shaky hands on your face.

“I love all of you,” you repeat.

She smiles softly.

“I love all of you.”

She kisses your eye softly, literally almost like a butterfly landing on your eyelid, unable to not whisper one more apology against your skin.

You roll your eyes, smiling to match her.

“And don’t think I’d leave you over one mistake, seriously, La Rue. You insult me.”

She rolls her eyes too, thumb stroking your cheek.

“Oh, forgive me,” she teases.

“You’re already forgiven,” you smile, eyes traveling down to the lips you’ve been dreaming about. “But kiss me to make sure.”

—-

“-and he would just look at me all the time. That was the creepiest part, I think. Like, okay, he would feel up on me sometimes, but whatever. I could avoid him. At meals I would just be minding my business and he would be staring at me. More just annoying, you know? And, yeah. That made me feel horrible, like literally sick. I just felt so dirty, so fucked up- Clar?”

You watch as she stares up at the ceiling, cracking her knuckles.

“Clarisse,” you scold.

You shift from your stomach to your side, head propped up so you can properly look at her. Your bed is full and warm now that she’s here.

“Oh, no, keep goin’, baby.”

“Do not kill him. Do not hurt him. I told you, I don’t want that on my conscience.”

“Nah, I know, sweetheart. I’m just thinking about it, don’t take that away from me, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but a smile crosses its way onto your face. She smiles back, and it just feels so surreal, so different- but exactly like it’s supposed to be. You know Clarisse is angry, but you know she’s sweet too. Clarisse knows you love all of her.

She draws you to lay on her chest, hand in your hair, the other slipping under your shirt to scratch your back.

“I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me,” she whispers. “That’s the worst thing. You were dealing with all this alone- and I had no fucking idea.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause being with you made it better, of course you didn’t notice.”

She kisses your forehead. “You’re too sweet, baby.”

You smile and kiss her chest.

“I’m only not killing him ‘cause you asked, I hope you know that. If it was up to me, he’d be dead.”

“Oh, baby, I know lots of other ways we can channel that emotion.”

You glance up at her and she searches your eyes before promptly throwing you to the side and climbing on top of you.

Yeah, Clarisse is angry. But you love her angry.

—-

clarisse staring at her hands like they’re covered in blood: oh gods… oh gods what have i done. what have i done (again that picture of ivan the terrible holding his d3ad son)

y/n: ouch! ok anyways- girl you did not kill me calm down.

—-

caden trying not to die after clarisse inconveniences him for the sixth time today… hides his favorite sword, permanently sticks him on laundry duty, puts literal “kick me” signs on his back, puts holes in his favorite clothes…

—-

y/n is that one song that goes “FUCK ME LIKE YOU MAD AT ME BABY I NEED A FREAK TO DRIVE ME CRAZZYYYYY”

…and she’s so real for that.

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1 @maxlynn17

@thewritingbarbie

—-

from this ask

[byunpum]

Tsa·zìskrrmipaw | part 2

Pair: Neytiri x Y/N human baby x Sully family

Warning: soft moments, mother rage, violence, sadness

Note: I had this job done a long time ago, but I changed a few things. Finally I am publishing it. I hope you like it a lot, and enjoy it. Remember to read part 1 <3

AVATAR MASTERLIST | Part 1 | Part 2

If there was one thing Neytiri was sure of when she decided to accept little Y/N into her family, it was the offensive comments. The discriminating looks they would give her and her baby. She could receive all kinds of insults and mistreatment. But her little Y/N? oh no, not her. Her little bean shouldn't be treated like that. So she became much more protective of her baby. Neytiri knew she couldn't have you locked up all your life in the hut. That she and Jake wouldn't be around you all the time, even your siblings. Neytiri knew she had to let you grow up, but she was very afraid.

The day was pretty quiet, lo'ak and kiri were taking their midday nap, while little Y/N was playing with her father. Jake was lying on the floor, while Y/N was combing his hair and cuddling him. Meanwhile neytiri was finishing weaving a foot bracelet for her children. Neytiri was giggling at the scene ahead of her. Jake was almost asleep, while y/n's little hands were trying to climb up and move his father's head to the other side. Jake said it was "spa day for daddy," but he was taking it very seriously. "daddy you have a big head" says y/n, now using his feet to move jake's head. He laughs, and stands stiller. "You're the big head" jake jokes, moving his hands up from his head to hold the little girl. Pulling her up into the air, hearing her laugh. Now laying her on his chest, cuddling her and giving her lots of kisses. Neytiri feels so in love, at times like this she is glad and thankful that jake is her partner and father of her children. He is such a great father.

"Y/N!!!" Neteyam's voice is heard from afar, running into the hut. The boy had gone out to play with some friends. He ran as fast as he could to his little sister. "You have to come with me, I found the perfect place to play" says neteyam, wrapping his arms around y/n's chest. Lifting her into the air. "Hey easy warrior…remember your sister is smaller" says jake, taking y/n in his hands to put her on the ground. Little y/n didn't care about any of these actions, for her it was all a game.

"Neteyam what's wrong?" asks neytiri, watching as her eldest son runs to her. "Mom…I found a really nice place to play and practice with y/n. She can go with me, right?" asks the boy, excited. Neytiri is silent, giving jake a quick glance. He lifts his shoulders, waiting for his partner's decision. Y/n was 6 years old, and barely out of the hut. But what worried her most was the behavior of some of the clan members. Many accepted the human as part of the clan. But many rejected her presence. "Mom please!!!" the little girl is at her brother's side. Jumping up and down with excitement, while neytiri thought of what to say. "My love…why don't you play here near the hut, where you always play?" speaks neytiri, neteyam pouts.

After several minutes of begging, Neytiri agreed to let the two children go out to play. Neytiri felt as if her heart wanted to go out, she was getting nervous. Watching as both children ran out of the hut, "teyam…take care of your sister!!!" shouts neytiri. Jake walks up to her, sitting behind her. Hugging her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist. "My love… she'll be fine, she's just going to play. It's okay" jake speaks, wrapping his arms around neytiri more. He knew what neytiri was like with y/n. Jake was still surprised… when neytiri brought a human baby to care for him, then wanted to adopt her. And now she cared for y/n more than she cared for herself. He didn't know what y/n had done in neytiri, but it had to be something magical. "Yes…I know she'll be fine, after all neteyam is with her" neytiri tries to calm down.

Meanwhile neteyam and y/n had arrived at the place. It was right next to the village, a nice jungle area. Where there were low trees, perfect for y/n to play with. The grass was soft, and the creatures that went to drink water from the small lake in the middle of the place were very safe. There were even more na-vi children playing in the area. Neteyam took her sister by the hand, but not before taking the oxygen mask and placing it on her younger sister's nose. "Breathe," said Neteyam excitedly. When they were ready, they ran to a branch. Neteyam helped his sister up, running along the wide trunk. They played like this for more than an hour. Practicing jumping, making bows out of the wood they found. Even collecting rare objects to place in their father's hair. Neteyam took great care of y/n, carrying her in places where she could fall. Cleaning her face, and always making sure her oxygen was good.

Both children were very entertained playing, they were watching some giant snails moving on the trunk of the tree. Until they felt that someone was behind them. The giggling of some children caught neteyam's attention. He quickly turned around and got up from the ground. While y/n tried to imitate him. "My mom says you should be with your own kind," said one of the children. Looking at the little girl, who was already feeling intimidated. "Mine says you should have died when your real mom did" says another child, this one was taller. "Hey, what's the matter with you guys? Stop bothering us…GET OUT!!!" shouts neteyam annoyed by the comments. Meanwhile y/n was holding neteyam's hand tightly. She didn't understand why those kids were saying that to her, to Y/N her mother was neytiri. They were the same…or so she thought. Neteyam was arguing with the children, who were much older than neteyam. One of the boys grabbed y/n's arm and lifted her into the air. While another one pushed and held neteyam on the ground.

He had the little y/n in the air, she was crying and screaming. "teyam!!!" she screams as loud as she can. Neteyam helplessly on the ground. The na-vi child had him restrained. "And what's this for?" the annoying bully grabs the oxygen box that y/n used to have around her waist. In a jerk he rips it off, and now he's observing it. "Stop that!!!! That's a big thing…she could die, PLEASE LEAVE HER ALONE!!!" yells neteyam. The little boy was crying in helplessness, as he saw how desperate his little sister is. The boy threw y/n on the ground, the fall was hard. He threw her with much force, then to kick her in the ribs. The little human girl writhed in pain. As she curled into a ball on the ground, while still crying. "Oh, so without this…you won't bother the clan anymore?" says the boy…giving neteyam one last look. When he burst the oxygen machine on the floor. "Nooooo" shouts neteyam, knowing that this was one of the most important tools for y/n.

Note: Y/n can breathe pandora's air, but she needs human air every few moments. That's why she had the oxygen mask.

The device shattered into a thousand pieces, while the other children stepped on what they could. With a few scoffs, the boy holding Neteyam let go. Neteyam ran to his little sister… picking her up in his arm. To hug and comfort her. Neteyam wanted to fight for his sister, but that would make things worse. "I'll tell your mothers," Neteyam says. The little boy was holding his sister in his arms, trying to calm her down. The children scoff at him starting to walk away. "yeah…right" the laughter trails off, as they disappear into the jungle. Neteyam looks down to see his little sister.

Y/n had some scrapes on her shoulders and the blow she had taken to her ribs was already getting swollen and purple. "teyam…it hurts so m-much" y/n cries. Hugging his brother. " Don't worry…come on let's go home, mom and dad will know what to do" says neteyam. He was little too, this was all a bit confusing for him. But he had to be the big brother, carrying his sister carefully.

Neytiri suspected that something had happened, you two had taken so long to return. "neytiri calm…calm" neytiri speaks to herself. But all calmness was gone when she saw her mother enter. Mo'at had a worried look on her face. Neytiri stood up quickly. "What happened?" the woman asks. Mo'at approaches. "Some children hurt y/n and neteyam took her to me," Mo'at says, not wanting to upset her daughter. But she had to tell her the truth. Jake was nearby listening in. He, too, quickly approached the women. "What? Mom!!! Y/N IS SHE OK?" neytiri is hysterical. "Daughter, come…she is crying and calling for both of you" says mo'at she was also a little confused by this situation. Neytiri told jake to stay with lo'ak and kiri, while she saw what had happened.

Neytiri arrives at mo'at's hut. Entering as quickly as she could, she saw norm at y/n's side, he was taking her vitals. Neytiri observed how several parts of her little girl's body were bandaged. And the big bruise on her ribs. What the hell had happened? Her heart wanted to burst. "Mama!" neteyam whimpers, he was right next to his sister. "Mama!!!" y/n cries. Neytiri runs to her daughter. Stroking her hair, giving her a kiss on her forehead. "my baby..what happened?" neytiri starts to examine her daughter's whole body. "The blow to the rib was serious" says norm, he was talking seriously. Neytiri looks at him with concern. Y/n starts coughing, as she always did when she lacked oxygen. Norm approached him, placing the large oxygen mask on him. "What about her oxygen machine?" asks Neytiri.

"mom they broke it!!!" neteyam was so worried, sitting on his mother's lap. "by eywa…what happened?" Tears of fury began to comulate in neytiri's eyes. Whoever had done this was going to suffer the consequences…neytiri had to find out what had happened. After a while, Norm handed her the oxygen machine. Telling her that he was going to make another one for Y/n that would be appropriate for her size. Mo'at told him that it was best for Y/n to get plenty of rest. The blows were very strong. Neytiri held her little daughter to her chest, as her baby cuddled her neck. She was asleep. While neteyam was holding her free hand. "Hey neytiri…you need to figure this out…with that blow to the ribs. Y/n could have died…this is serious" says norm. Before neytiri nods with her face and begins the walk home.

On the way neteyam told her everything, how that children had insulted her sister. How he had beaten her and treated her. Apologizing for not protecting his sister. "Love…this is not your fault. You're little too, and those kids are much bigger than you two. They are wrong for doing this, but don't worry I will take care of it" says neytiri.After quite a long walk, they arrived at the hut. Jake ran up to neytiri when he saw the state of Y/n. "What the hell happened?" jake is shaken. Neytiri explained everything to Jake, the more Neytiri told him the more upset Jake became. Who did they think they are, hurting one of Toruk Makto's sons?

Neytiri carefully placed the girl in her hammock, she was very sleepy. Placing her oxygen mask on her, at a gentle rhythm. Just so she could breathe both airs. Neytiri followed the same routine as every night, but she was very upset. "Mama…y/n will she be alright?" asks lo'ak looking at his sister from afar. Neytiri walks over to her son, stroking his face. Lo'ak and y/n were practically twins, with several months of differences. They were raised at the same time. Lo'ak used to sleep with y/n, and jake had told him he should sleep alone today. "Yes honey… she's fine. She just needs to rest" neytiri carries the child, taking her to kiri's hammock. After putting all the children to rest, neytiri quickly left the hut.

Jake was just outside, at the edge of the hut, which was at the height of a large tree, Jake was cleaning the pots that had been used for the meal when he saw how neytiri stormed out, her gaze was focused on a target. Grabbing her hand to make her stop for a moment. "baby where are you going?" asks jake. Neytiri waved her hand for jake to let go, and continued on her way. Jake stayed there watching neytiri walk away, but several minutes after neytiri disappeared into the brightly lit jungle he decided it was best to chase after her. Verifying that all the children were okay, he climbed down from the tree and followed his partner.

On the other hand, neytiri knew what she was going to do. Where she was going to go. She knew that group of mothers, the mothers of those troubled children. They used to eat together, they used to stay late in the common area of the village. With their hands closed, and their anger at a high level. Neytiri reached the group of women. The na'vi women were finishing their meals, others were laughing about some topic of conversation. Until one of them felt someone grab her head, revealing her neck. Feeling a sharp knife in her throat.

"I think I was very clear…when I said to stay away from my daughter" says neytiri. Her tone of voice was low and threatening. Showing her fangs, and with dilated pupils. The women around stood up for themselves, shouting and asking neytiri to release their friend. "Your son almost took my daughter's life," said neytiri. Listening as the woman in her arms, lets out a mocking laugh. "You're talking about the devil," says the woman, feeling a cut on her arm as neytiri slams her hard to the ground. She hit her head, seeing how neytiri was now on top of her. Fury was all over her entire body. "The only demon here is your damn child" speaks neytiri. Hearing as the woman's partner approaches, the man rushes over. Neytiri stands up, she could take this man. If she had to defend her daughter's honor she would do it, no matter what.

Just as the man approached to attack Neytiri and defend his partner. Jake appears in front of him, with a quick punch to the chest. Leaving him on the ground, right next to his partner. Jake began to growl, pulling out his knife. Positioning himself in front of neytiri, to create a barrier. "If I ever see your son again…or any of your children near my children. I swear I'll rip his head off myself!" shouts Neytiri. Jake is backing her up, ears perked up, fangs out. None of them were brave enough to reveal themselves in front of Toruk Makto and Neytiri. They were great warriors.

The couple and the group of women walk away. With difficulty because of the blow and cut that neytiri had given to the woman. Leaving Jake and Neytiri alone surrounding the bonfire. Jake didn't look away until he saw the group disappear. Turning to see neytiri collapsed on the ground, covering her face with her hands. Tears began to flow, and whimpering shrieks began to sound. Jake kneels down to hug neytiri. "She could have died…and I wasn't there to take care of her. I promised mom I would take care of her…I promised to be her mother and take care of her. And today I almost lost her jake, ma jake today one of our daughters almost died" neytiri looks at jake, she was collapsed. She was in pain and furious.

"I know…I was really scared too," says jake, watching neytiri's eyes widen. That's what she was afraid of…afraid of losing her. It took neytiri so long to accept that she loved a human. It took her so much to give all her love to a creature who needed her. And now that she had promised her that she would always take care of her, these things happen to her little girl. "Ma neytiri… Y/n will have to live with all these comments and situations. But we will always be here to take care of her…like now." Jake laughs a little, trying to cheer his partner up. Neytiri just hugs him tighter. + + The days passed and little Y/N got much better, she still had that bruise on her ribs. And it still hurt, but he was already playing as if nothing happened. Even lo'ak went back to sleep with her sister. Neytiri was barely leaving the hut, she didn't want to meet those women. Much less leave Y/N alone, she would rather stay with her children at home. By coincidence, that morning, while everyone was eating breakfast, "Mom, could we go to the river? I want to go play with lo'ak" says y/n sitting on her father's lap. "mmm I don't think so" says neytiri, shaking her head quickly. "ahhh mama!!!" says lo'ak, whining. They hadn't been out to play for a long time, the only one who had been out was neteyam and that was because he had to go to practice.

Jake gives neytiri's hand a squeeze, laughing a little. The woman takes a calming breath before replying. "It's okay…besides I think you guys need a bath" says neytiri tickling kiri. She was still half asleep. Later, jake takes neteyam with him, while neyitir takes kiri, lo'ak and Y/N to the river. Watching as the children run when they see them approach the water source. Screaming and laughing. They looked so happy. Neytiri settles down on a rock, beginning to settle everything to clean up for her children. She regretted that neteyam was not there today, he smelled bad too. First it was kiri, while lo'ak and Y/N continued playing in the water. Then it was lo'ak's turn and finally Y/N.

"Ok, come here little one" neytiri says as she removes the little one's loincloth, preparing the oils she was going to use. For Y/N everything was different and unique. "Hello ney" says ninat, she had recently given birth. She was a new mother, and she was the only woman in the clan that neytiri trusted. Besides her mother. "Nina!!!!" says Y/N happily, jumping in the water. "Hi baby" ninat comes over to give the little girl a kiss on the hair.

"Hi…how's everything?" asks neytiri starting to clean Y/N, while ninat began to arrange to do the same with her baby. "Everything is perfect…hey I heard what happened" says ninat, seeing how neytiri's face changed. They both looked at the bruise that was still on the little girl's skin, and how she had other scratches on other parts of her body. "I don't want to talk about it…I" neytiri felt ninat place her hand on her shoulder. "Next time…come and look for me. I will always help you take care of your family" ninat says, neytiri smiles a little. She is glad to know that there are people who support her and know that this event and behavior they have had with Y/N is wrong.

After cleaning Y/N, Neytiri put a new loincloth on her and told her that she could go play with her brother and sister. Just as the little girl was on her way among the rocks, she saw the group of children who had once hurt her. They were approaching with their mothers. The women were going to another corner, but immediately noticed the presence of the sullys. Y/N ran as fast as she could to her mother. Burying her head in her mother's chest. The little girl was trembling, and you could hear how she was about to start crying.

Neytiri looked up and saw the women. Giving her a defiant look, noticing how the woman's arm was bandaged. Neytiri looked at her little daughter, taking her head in her hands making her look her in the eyes. "Y/N…they already know their place, as long as I am alive, no one will hurt you…I promise you" Neytiri speaks, hugging her daughter.

[mrs-kmikaelson]

Our Song and Dance²

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: not as long as before but still long, murder, violence, death, exploitation of minors, mentions of forced prostitution, psychological "games," unrequited love, complicated relationships, suicidal tendencies (technically), complex mental health issues, and i make up small details ab smaller characters and some names (pls lmk if i missed anything) Words: 9.2K

Masterlist | Part 3

a/n: i just want to thank you all so much for the support! i was definitely insecure about this, but seeing all the love rlly makes it so worth it! this one is completely catching fire, then the next one is all mockingjay. hope u enjoy! also finnick and y/n's song is def american pie.

“Let The 75th Hunger Games begin. May the odds be ever in your favour.”

Ten seconds later, a cannon fired and you were immediately jumping off the pedestal into the water. Once upon a time, you were a swimmer. This was your edge. You were good in water, as was Finnick, so your worry for him eased. 

You swam until you reached rock, climbing on to it and running along the path like your life depended on it because it did. Once you were at the Cornucopia, you ran for your sword, grabbing it and then swiftly pivoting to stab the person coming up from behind you like it was instinct—and it was.

Your mind didn’t have to fully be there; your body knew what it was doing. You’ve danced this dance already, and you’ve perfected it. You stabbed another man from behind, letting him fall to the ground when you pulled your sword away. You grabbed throwing knives, running to find Finnick, and you caught him at just the right moment.

Katniss had just drawn her arrow when you came up from behind her, bringing your sword up against her neck. Alliance or not, you’d slit her throat if she posed a threat.

“Careful, Everdeen,” you warned, making her tense.

At that moment, Finnick held up his forearm, flashing his bracelet. He smirked, completely unbothered, and taunted, “Good thing we’re allies, right?”

Her breath was shaky but her voice was still menacing. “Where did you get that?”

“Where do you think?” You retorted, still holding the blade close to her skin.

You watched as the amusement on Finnick’s face disappeared, his gaze being directed away from you. “Behind you.”

You quickly moved your sword away from her neck without cutting her, spinning and bringing it down on another guy’s neck instead. You turned back to a gasping Katniss, ignoring her state that was much like the one you were just in. “Don’t trust 1 and 2.”

Cannons fired as Finnick walked around you. “I’ll take this side. You go hold them off,” he told her.

You nodded. “I’ll find Peeta.” You didn’t walk far before you spotted him, shouting, “He’s over here!” All three of you ran over, finding him in the water against a pedestal, fighting off a tribute.

Finnick jumped into the water, swimming over while Katniss drew her arrow, seemingly waiting to get a good shot, but then both boys were submerged underwater. She brought her arrow down, breathing heavily as a cannon fired.

You waited in anticipation, a body floating up to the surface. For a second, you thought the kid died, but then he emerged out of the water, panting, and you both let out a breath.

The look on her face as she thought Peeta died was more convincing than any other performance you watched them put on, more convincing than the kisses, and the engagement, and the sweet interviews. Whatever was going on between them, you knew now that it wasn’t all fake.

Seems that you had more in common with the Girl on Fire than you thought.

You glanced over at the island, seeing the sets of Careers standing together, forming an alliance as they usually did. Katniss noticed this, too, so as soon Peeta and Finnick were out of the water, you all went running in to the jungle.

This was a Quarter Quell. There was more to it than just changing up the reaping; the entire arena was special. The Gamemakers were sick. You knew that you were in for a hell of a ride.

Right now, you just had to keep running. You could worry about food and water when the time came, and you’d find Johanna eventually. She was smart; you knew she wouldn’t be one of the first to die.

You ran and ran until Finnick called for you all to stop, crouching down to make a game plan. It turned out that you were gonna need water a lot sooner than you thought with how hot it was. At least freezing to death wasn’t something you had to worry about.

Katniss stared at you and Finnick quite obviously. You weren’t sure if she was trying to be discreet or not; you weren’t sure if she knew how to be discreet at all. The firing of the cannon made her finally look away.

Even though you were just running for your lives, a smirk still made its way onto Finnick’s face. “Well, I guess we’re not holding hands anymore,” he chuckled. You snorted, but Katniss wasn’t as amused.

“You think that’s funny?” 

You narrowed your eyes, answering before Finnick could. “I don’t know what you think this is, Everdeen, but in case you failed to notice, it’s kill or be killed out here.” You pointed to your ear. “Every time that cannon goes off, it’s music to my ears. We don’t care about any of them.”

Her jaw clenched. “Good to hear,” she quipped, pulling a machete out of its sheath on her back. You scoffed at her pathetic attempt to threaten you.

“Look, you wanna face the Career Pack alone? Be my guest. It’s your funeral,” you shot. “Besides, what would Haymitch say?”

“Haymitch isn’t here.” She stared straight into your eyes and you stared right back at her, unblinking. In your peripheral, you saw Peeta glancing between you.

“Let’s keep moving,” he interrupted, standing up, but you didn’t look away from Katniss until she stood up first.

Once you were up and walking, Finnick put his hand on the small of your back, probably to calm you down. For some reason, he insisted on working with them, so you’d just have to stifle your urge to argue with her.

Eventually, though, you knew you would be doing a lot more than arguing. If Katniss and you were as alike as you thought, then you knew that she’d stab you in the back for Peeta, the same way you would for Finnick.

The actual tributes in the arena weren’t always what you had to worry about. You were reminded of this when Peeta hit the wrong branches and went flying backward, sending you all with him.

A wall where he hit was revealed, like a glitch, before it was replaced again with the glamour of the jungle. A force field, you realized. Then your attention was drawn back to Peeta by Katniss’ cry of his name.

You shuffled over to them as Katniss panicked. “He’s not breathing. He’s not breathing.” Finnick rushed over, pushing her out of the way.

She instantly reached for her bow, going to grab an arrow, but you shoved her arm. “What the hell is wrong with you? He’s saving his life,” you snapped. Her hand fell, realizing you were right as she watched Finnick give him CPR.

She looked like she took a moment to collect herself and then she crawled over. “Peeta? Peeta?” She cried. Finnick grunted, switching between compressions and mouth-to-mouth, continuously checking for a heartbeat that wasn’t there. “Please wake up. No,” she sobbed, “please wake up.”

For the first time since The Games began, you really did feel bad for her. If you were in her place, you didn’t know what you would do.

Just as you thought Peeta was dead, he gasped back to life. Finnick moved back, letting them have their moment.

“Be careful, there’s a force field up there,” he breathed.

She tearily chuckled, leaning in to kiss him. You and Finnick shared a look. Katniss was kidding herself if she didn’t think she loved him. You tuned the rest of their conversation out. Peeta could’ve died, just like that, and Katniss would’ve probably fallen apart.

You knew that if Finnick died, you died, too. You couldn’t let that happen. You had to protect him.

Little did you know, he was thinking the exact same thoughts about you.

Once Peeta could stand, you were all back on your feet, looking for freshwater while simultaneously trying to spot where the force field started and ended. After Katniss did a little experiment with an arrow, you figured out that the arena was a dome. You just so happened to be at the edge.

Didn’t matter, though, because there wasn’t a sign of freshwater anywhere. Since you couldn’t satisfy your need for water, you’d just have to compensate with your need for sleep.

“It’s getting dark soon. We’ll be safe with our backs protected. We should set up camp,” Finnick suggested. “Take turns sleeping. I can take first watch.”

Katniss gave a little scoff like he was saying was absurd. “Not a chance.”

You stepped forward, so fed up and desperately wanting to give her a reality check, but Finnick held a hand up, signalling for you to stop. The only reason you did was because you saw the look on his face. As much as you wanted to tear Katniss a new one, you’d much rather watch him do it.

He stood up, sticking the end of his trident into the ground. He was calm, but annoyance laced his voice. “Honey, that thing I did back there for Peeta? That was called saving his life. If I wanted to kill either of you, I would’ve done it by now.” He picked up his trident. “Same goes for Y/N.”

Then he walked off, and you followed soon after hearing Katniss say something to Peeta about taking the first watch. If you were just watching The Games, then maybe you’d feel a little more compassionate towards her, but you weren’t watching. You were in them with her.

Your compassion sort of needed to disappear to ensure your survival, so all you were was annoyed. But she was a pretty good archer, so having her on your team didn’t hurt, unless you were counting how she was a pain in your ass.

However, your annoyance was quick to fade as you fell asleep, tired, hungry, and dehydrated.

When you woke up, it was to the sound of Panem’s anthem, pictures in the sky of the tributes that had died. Most of them were people you previously had conversations with in the Capitol, yet some of them were still people that you killed.

You couldn’t be friends with everyone in an arena.

You counted eight pictures in the sky. So there were sixteen left, including you four. If you were still mentoring, you would’ve probably been reflecting over how quickly those lives could just come to an end, but you didn’t have time to stop and think about the cruelty of life.

Your thoughts were directed away from the dead by a chime. You looked up to see a silver parachute, slowly falling to the ground. Katniss opened the silver casing, revealing some sort of metal tool and a note from Haymitch. You quickly identified the tool as a spile.

The three of you brought it to a tree, waiting to see if it’d work. Peeta came and found you not long after. You were just staring at it, praying for water. If there was a God, they answered, because water came pouring out of the spile like it was a fountain.

You were so relieved that you laughed, drinking and splashing some on your face.

After that, you were the one taking watch as everyone slept. Every year when The Games came, you had trouble sleeping more than a few hours each night. Now that you were back in the arena, you really couldn’t sleep at all. You’d make sure you got an hour every day, just to keep yourself sharp, but otherwise you’d prefer to let Finnick sleep and watch over him, anyway.

You were all startled by a loud banging, almost like an alarm. The only reason you could think of for its presence was to signal that it was midnight, but you were still confused. There were never alarms in any of the other Games. But, like you’d already figured out, this year was different.

Right after the alarm, you watched as lightning repeatedly struck the same tree in the distance. Nature didn’t work that way, and there was nothing natural about The Games, anyway. It wasn’t a coincidence, but you just couldn’t figure out what its purpose could be.

You spent the rest of your watch trying to put the puzzle pieces together, trying to figure out what the catch was with this arena, but you couldn’t make any of the pieces fit. You didn’t have enough. Katniss tried to stay awake, still distrusting of you, but she eventually succumbed to slumber, leaving you to yourself.

She hadn’t been sleeping long when you heard a different sound. You turned your head, seeing grey mist slowly crawl its way over to you. Your brows furrowed.

There were no natural occurrences in an arena.

You reached your hand out, like you were testing the waters, but you should’ve known better. As soon as the fog made contact with your skin, you fell backward, a scream leaving your lips. Your cry woke everyone else up. 

Finnick immediately ran to you, but you shouted, “No, run! It’s poison- the fog is poison!” Either he was stupid or brave, because he ignored your warning and ran to you anyway, helping you up as quickly as possible before you followed Katniss and Peeta, doing your best to run, but the fog was following you, too.

It was harder to run fast in this part of the jungle. All of the branches and plants kept getting in your way, but you weren’t stopping, helping Peeta cut whatever was in your way.

You could’ve been running as fast as humanly possible, but the fog still would’ve caught up to you. It wasn’t nature at all. It was intended to kill.

You had to change directions as it suddenly appeared in front of you, too. It was like it was encasing you. Somewhere along the way, Katniss and Peeta ended up running on the path parallel to you. You skidded to a stop as you heard Finnick scream. Your eyes widened. “Finnick, come on. We’ve gotta go!” You ushered him forward, and then he went running to Katniss and Peeta who came to a stop, as well.

When you got there, Peeta was groaning on the ground, blisters all over the side of his face. “I can’t carry him,” Katniss panted. “Peeta, please, stand up. We have to go.”

If you could carry him, you would, but he’d crush you if you tried. Finnick was in no condition to carry Peeta alone, so you slung one of his arms around your neck, telling Katniss to get the other. “Finnick, go. Get ahead of us.” You motioned for him to go forward.

He looked hesitant, and in any other situation, he wouldn’t, but none of you had the time to argue, so he listened and ran forward, taking Peeta’s blade and cutting the branches in your path.

The three of you cried out as the fog hit the backs of your necks, but then you were all rolling down a hill that you couldn’t have noticed in the state you were in.

You were whimpering on the ground, so consumed by the pain that you almost forgot that you were supposed to be running. You turned over and, to your surprise, the fog didn’t come any closer, travelling upward instead of forward, like it hit a wall. And then it just disappeared altogether.

You let out a shaky breath, resting your head on the ground before you were reminded of where you were. Resting wasn’t an option. You’d rest when you were dead, and you weren’t gonna speed up that process.

So you crawled over to the lake a few feet away from you. This was a gamble, but you had to take some risks if you wanted to survive. Cautiously, you stuck your hand in the water. This elicited another scream from you, but the pain in your hand slowly faded as the blisters were practically washed away. 

“The- the water,” you stuttered, “the water helps.”

As Katniss and Peeta made their way over, you pushed yourself into the water, moaning at the pain. Tears leaked out of your eyes, but after a minute or so, the excruciating pain subsided to just a sting.

When you were both okay, Katniss and you got out of the water, dragging Finnick over. As soon as the water touched his skin, he was screaming, trying to fight against it. “Shh, shh,” you hushed, holding him down. “It’s gonna help.” You ran your fingers through his hair, and a few more tears fell down your face, even though you weren’t in pain anymore.

Not physical pain.

But watching him struggle like this was a pain you couldn’t help.

You and Katniss helped him as he shivered while Peeta went and got your weapons. You stayed in the lake even after all your blisters were gone, just cooling off and getting yourselves together.

In The Games, your physical came first, but you wanted to keep an eye on mental health or at least not let it get to a point where it’d affect your body. Though, you supposed there was no healthy mind in The Games, and there certainly wasn’t after a victor left them.

Annie was an example of a worst case scenario, but you knew this because you lived it, too.

Finnick’s hand found yours as you sat together, holding it tightly. This was his way of making sure you were still there. Your way was putting your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

After a while, though, that steady rhythm was interrupted and his heart started beating faster. This caused you to look up, and when you did, you were met with the sight of apes coming toward you.

Katniss grabbed an arrow while you and Finnick slowly stood up, bracing yourself by readying your weapons. You glanced around, seeing that they were coming in from all directions. Fucking Gamemakers, you thought.

You realized you could see the Cornucopia from where you stood, so all you had to was fend them off and make it there.

Suddenly, one jumped at Peeta, then the rest of them got up from their perched positions. Katniss was firing arrows left and right while you and the boys slashed away. If one got too close, you stabbed it.

Katniss was pulled underwater by one, but you killed it before she ran out of air. There were too many to just kill all of them, meaning you had to start running for the beach.

Peeta and Katniss both fell, so you ran to help her while Finnick went for Peeta. You stabbed the ape in front of her, grabbing her hand and taking her running with you. When you reached them, there was someone lying on the ground that hadn’t been with you before.

“Who is that?” Katniss questioned, but you recognized her by the face paint.

“A morphling,” Peeta responded, pulling her up. “Help me get her!”

You let Katniss help him while you helped Finnick get the apes closest to you, taking off as soon as you could. You both stumbled, rolling onto the beach, but the apes didn’t go farther than the edge of the sand. You held your blades out at them, but it was like you really didn’t need to.

You were reminded of the fog and it how was stopped by an invisible wall, the same way these monkeys looked to be stopped by something. 

A cannon fired, and they retreated into the jungle. You swallowed, turning to see Katniss and Peeta leaving the water, the Morphling left floating dead. Like clockwork, a hovercraft came in, picking her up like she was an object.

You scoffed. Just when you thought you couldn’t think any lesser of the Capitol, you were proven wrong.

When Peeta spoke up, his voice was both defeated and confused. “She sacrificed herself for me and I didn’t even know her name.”

“Her name was Trayne,” you cut in, making them both look at you, but your eyes were focused on the hovercraft taking her out of the water. “Trayne Carter.”

They both paused, absorbing that. It was like, for the first time since you entered the arena, you were reminded that these people weren’t just your opponents. They were people that had lives.

Just like you.

A look then passed over Katniss’ face as she turned to Peeta. “You think she sacrificed herself?”

“Looked like it.”

Your brows knit together while she voiced your thoughts. “That doesn’t make any sense.” It didn’t, but you had a long list of things you had to make sense of and more pressing matters at hand, so you couldn’t busy yourself by thinking about it.

Finnick found fish that was edible, so you all sat in the shade and ate for the first time since before The Games started. This time, you were the one to reach out for his hand, holding on to it like you’d die if you let go.

You were pretty much in silence until a scream sounded from far away but close enough that you could hear it. You let go of Finnick’s hand as Peeta remarked, “That’s new.”

You all stood up, grabbing your weapons. In the distance, there was a rumble. Something was rustling the trees ahead of you. When it got closer, you realized that something was water. The wave came crashing past the trees and into the water, stopping once it hit the Cornucopia.

Like it couldn’t go past it.

Cannons fired, and the hovercraft returned, picking up bodies from the jungle while you all watched, captured by the sight. You were broken out of your trance by Katniss drawing an arrow. “Someone’s here.”

Her and Peeta ducked while you and Finnick waited to see who it was. It took you a moment since they were covered in blood, but you soon realized who it was. You let out a sigh of relief. “Johanna.” You jogged over to them. “Johanna!”

“Y/N?” She laughed as she saw you and Finn. Her tough exterior came down as she went to hug you, like she was just as relieved to see you. Once she let go of you, she even hugged Finnick.

You glanced, identifying that the people she was with were Beetee and Wiress, then looked back at her. “What the hell happened?”

Katniss and Peeta came over just as she started explaining. “Well, I got ‘em out.” She gestured to them. “We were all the way deep into the jungle where I thought it was gonna be safe.” A humourless smile arose on her face. “That’s when the rain started. I thought it was water. It turned out to be blood. Hot, thick blood.”

You narrowed her eyes at her explanation. Fog, apes, waves, blood rain. There was some sort of connection there, you just couldn’t grasp it.

Wiress came over, looking lost, mumbling, “Tick tock.”

“It was coming down-”

“Tick tock.”

“-it was choking us.” She scoffed. “We were stumbling around, gagging on it, blind.”

“Tick tock.”

“That’s when Blight hit the force field.” She exhaled, shaking her head as Wiress continued to mumble. “He wasn’t much, but he was from home.” You reached out, putting a hand on her shoulder.

You understood what she meant. You’d felt the same feeling before, when the male tribute from district 4, Bay, died during your Games. You didn’t always know the person you were going in with, but you became bonded by the experience. That loss was unlike anything you’d ever felt to this day.

Wiress kept going on in the background, making you glance at her. “What’s wrong with her?” you finally asked.

“She’s in shock,” Beetee replied, coming out of the water. “Dehydration isn’t helping. Do you have fresh water?”

“Yeah, we can get some.”

“Tick tock. Tick tock.” You turned to see Wiress had grabbed onto Johanna’s shoulders. “Tick tock. Tick tock.”

Johanna grabbed onto her forearms, trying to get her off. “Listen- stop it!” 

She had pushed her onto the sand when Katniss yelled, “Hey, lay off her!” She went and shoved Johanna, making you rush over.

You shoved Katniss away from her, pushing her hard enough that she staggered backward. “Back off, Everdeen!” you warned as Finnick held Johanna back from retaliating, but she shouted back.

“What’s wrong with you?! I got them out for you!” She struggled against Finnick. “Let me go, Finnick!”

Peeta came over to help balance Katniss. Her eyes were wild, like she wasn’t the one who instigated this. “For me? What does that mean?”

The question wasn’t directed at you, but you responded, anyway. “I don’t know and I don’t care, but you better watch it, Everdeen.” You stepped forward, looking her right in the eye as she stared back challengingly. You lowered your voice. “You’ve played with fire before, but I am telling you right now, I will light your ass up the next time you try me.” She opened her mouth to say something, but you cut her off, “Don’t underestimate me again.”

You walked off before you could hear her reply. If she said another thing to you right now, it was highly likely that you’d do something you would or wouldn’t regret. You weren’t gonna test it.

You decided to take Wiress into the water and help her clean herself up to calm down. She smiled at you crazily. “Tick tock.”

You sighed, “Yes, tick tock.”

“Tick tock.” She repeated herself over and over again, reminding you so much of Annie. Wiress was one of the smartest people you had ever met, yet she was reduced to this every time she was in a bad situation. She won her Games through a loophole, and in turn, that loophole sucked her in until she was too deep to get out.

As you rinsed her hair, she gasped, “Tick tock. Tick tock!” Immediately afterward, lightning struck the tree in the distance, the same tree as the night before. You tilted your head. The tree, fog, apes, waves, blood rain. Wiress looked up at you. “Tick tock.”

“Tick tock,” you echoed, eyes darting around the arena. The tree, the fog, the apes, the waves, the rain.

“Tick tock.”

“Oh, my God.” You cupped your hand over your mouth in shock. “It’s a clock.”

“Tick tock.”

You pulled her out of the water, engulfing her in a hug. “Wiress, you’re a genius!” When you let go, you ran with her to the others. “It’s a clock!”

They all looked to you. Finnick furrowed his brows. “What?”

“It’s a clock!” You pointed to the Cornucopia. “The arena is laid out like a clock!” 

Peeta came forward. “Holy shit.”

You ran your hands threw your hair, all of the puzzle pieces falling into place. “It’s, um- there’s a new threat every hour. They- they can only stay in their wedge, though.” You pointed at the tree. “It starts with lightning, then blood rain, fog, monkeys- that’s the first four hours. Then at ten, that big wave hits.”

Finnick chuckled slightly under his breath. “Wiress, you’re a genius.”

Peeta then cut in, suggesting you all get to the Cornucopia, so that’s what you did. Just as you were getting there, he pointed out, “Look, the tail points to twelve.”

Katniss filled in the blank. “That’s where the lightning strikes at noon and midnight.”

Wiress sat down on the rocks, singing to herself while the rest of you gathered around Peeta who mapped out the clock in the sand and what you already knew.

You crossed your arms. “Okay, what else?” You turned to Johanna. “Did you guys see anything?”

She snorted under her breath, “Nothing but blood.”

Peeta replied, “Doesn’t matter. As long as we steer clear of whichever sector is active, we’ll be safe.”

You shook your head. “Yeah, safe from nature.” As if you jinxed it, Wiress gasped immediately after you spoke. You turned so fast you could’ve gotten whiplash, in time to see Gloss pulling a knife out of Wiress’ neck.

Katniss worked fast, shooting him in the chest, but he wasn’t working alone. Right after, Cashmere came running at her. Johanna pushed Katniss out of the way, embedding her axe into Cashmere’s skull. 

The other half of the Careers revealed themselves, Brutus throwing staffs at you that you narrowly dodged. Katniss’ arrow missed Enobaria as she threw a knife at Finnick, grazing his arm.

“Bitch,” you swore, throwing a knife of your own at her head, cursing again when it hit her shoulder instead. You went running after her, chasing her around the Cornucopia, but you suddenly lost your footing. 

Gamemakers.

The island spun around. You grabbed onto the rock as best as you could, digging your nails into it so hard that they started to bleed. You were determined to stay alive, to keep Finnick alive, but your hold wasn’t strong enough. A scream left your lips as your fingers slipped. Finnick yelling your name was the last thing you heard before you went flying into the water.

Once upon a time, you were a swimmer.

You never thought you’d die by drowning.

And you refused to let that be the way you went out.

You fought hard against the current, using all your force to get above water. You gasped as you surfaced, taking in a large breath of air and coughing as you swam to the rock closest to you.

“Y/N!”

Finnick came running over to you, pulling you up and crouching down to your level. He ran his fingers through your hair, eyes darting all over your body with concern. “Are you okay?”

You coughed, nodding, and then he immediately embraced you tightly. His heart was beating just as fast if not faster than yours. For a moment, you couldn’t hear anything but that beating. You couldn’t hear the water, or the birds, or anyone else around you. You couldn’t even hear the music.

It was just the two of you.

And then that moment ended far too quickly.

Johanna brought you back to earth, heaving, “Let’s just get what we need and get off this bloody island.” You nodded against Finnick’s chest, letting him help you up. You muttered to him that you were fine, but he completely ignored you, helping you walk.

He was good, you thought. You would’ve been good together, in another life. It would’ve been nice to have been loved by this man, but life was never so kind to you.

You made it back to the beach, sitting on the sand under a tree. You weren’t relaxing like before; the time to relax had passed. You were nearing the end of The Games; it was time to plan for survival.

“So, besides Brutus and Enobaria, who’s left?” Katniss asked.

You looked right at her as you answered, “Maybe Chaff. Just those three.” You maintained eye contact with her, knowing that she was thinking the same thing as you. It wasn’t just those three. It was also all of you, sitting here.

Alliances always came to an end in the arena.

You knew Finnick must have caught onto this, but he pretended not to. “They know they’re outnumbered. I doubt they’ll attack again. We’re safe here on the beach.”

Safe for how long? you wondered. Even if the three of them were killed by the horrors of the jungle, you still wouldn’t be safe. None of you would be, as long as you were together.

“So what do we do? We hunt ‘em down?” Johanna questioned, looking to all of you for an answer of some sort, but before any of you could formulate one, you heard a girl scream.

A little girl.

“Katniss, help me!”

Katniss shot up immediately. “Prim!” You remembered that name from the year prior. That was her sister. Your eyes widened, trying to stop her, but she was up and running into the jungle.

You ran after her, hearing the others follow suit. “Katniss! Katniss, stop!”

She was running so far ahead of you that you almost lost sight of her, but you found her stopped, shooting down a bird. “Katniss!” She turned to you, breathing heavily. “Are you okay?”

Before she could even respond, you heard your own name being called. “Y/N!”

Your head shot up, eyes wide. Katniss was trying to talk to you, but it was like her voice was muffled to you. “Y/N-”

“Mom?”

“Y/N, it’s not real-” 

It was almost like Katniss wasn’t there at all. You ran farther into the jungle, screaming, “Mom?!”

Katniss was shouting your name, but the only voice you could hear was your mother’s. “Y/N!” Katniss ran in front of you, grabbing ahold of your shoulders. “It’s not her! It’s just a jabberjay-”

You cut her off, shoving her away. “How do you think they got that sound, Katniss? Jabberjays copy!” Her eyes glazed over at your words, and then a new voice joined the mix, making her shake her head fervently. 

Whatever she was saying now, you could barely pay attention to it, hearing someone else call your name, the voice of a person you never thought you’d hear again.

“Bay?” You gasped. Tears came to your eyes. It escaped you that Bay was dead, that you held him in your arms as he died. All you could focus on was just how real his voice sounded.

Jabberjays swarmed around you, the voices now louder than ever. Katniss grabbed your arm and you, not there, let her drag you away, running away from the voices instead of toward them.

Your mother’s and Bay’s voices mixed together, screaming your name, your mother who you hadn’t spoken to in years and the boy who you let down. You screamed, too, trying to drown them out, but they were too loud.

Soon, Johanna, Peeta, and Finnick came into your vision. They were saying things, but they fell upon deaf ears. You couldn’t hear anything but the screams.

You hit a wall, banging on it. Finnick stood on the other side, trying to speak to you, but you couldn’t hear it at all. The dam in your eyes broke, tears running down your face like a waterfall.

You sunk to the ground, hands on your ears, sobbing.

“Y/N!”

“You killed me!”

“No, no, no,” you wailed, but they weren’t stopping.

“You killed me, Y/N!” Bay.

“You broke my heart.” Mom.

“I’m dead because of you!” Bay.

“I lost my daughter.” Mom.

“It’s all your fault.” Bay.

“You’re a monster.” Mom.

“You killed me.” Bay.

“You’re not my daughter anymore.” Mom.

“You’re a killer.” Bay.

“I don’t ever want to see you again.” Mom.

“You killed me.” Bay.

“You deserve to die.” Mom.

You don’t know when they stopped. You still heard the echoes of their voices in your head when they were gone. “Y/N!” Someone touched your shoulder, making you flinch. “It’s done. The hour’s done- it’s okay.”

You shot up, seeing Finnick right next to you. “My mom? Where’s my mom- Bay. Where’s- where’s-”

He grabbed your shoulders. “They’re not here, Y/N. It wasn’t real.”

You panted, shuffling back away from Finnick, but he didn’t let you get far, pulling you to him. You tried to fight against it, but he wasn’t letting up. Eventually, you gave up trying to fight, letting him hold you. He pet your hair, whispering to you.

“Shh, it’s alright. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

You let the sound of his heart calm you down. It wasn’t real, you told yourself. Bay was dead. Your mom was okay. Finnick is alive. That’s what mattered.

After a few moments, you got up, Finnick watching you wearily. Johanna didn’t say anything, shooting you a look. You knew what she meant. You nodded, telling her without words that you were okay. You had to be okay. She nodded back.

You looked over, seeing Peeta still calming Katniss down on the ground. “Okay? They won’t touch Prim. Alright?” She shakily nodded, collecting herself.

“Your fiancé’s right. The whole country loves your sister.” You looked back to Johanna, seeing her standing on a rock. Her voice was both assuring and bitter. “If they tortured her or did anything to her-” she paused, chuckling, “forget the districts, there would be riots in the damn Capitol.”

She glanced to you and you saw the sheer fire in her eyes. Oh, you’d give anything to burn down that city with Snow in it.

“Hey, how does that sound, Snow?” She shouted, looking up to whatever cameras were in the sky. “What if we- what if we set your backyard on fire? You know, you can’t put everybody in here.” She turned back to you, seeing you all staring at her. “What? They can’t hurt me.” She shrugged, her voice was lowering as she looked to the ground. “There’s no one left that I love.”

You knew that Katniss and Peeta couldn’t have known the true depth of her words, but Beetee did. Finnick did. You did. Anyone watching at home- they couldn’t have understood. They must’ve thought she was crazy, but did any of them have even the slightest idea of who you all were? Did they know that she wasn’t always like this, that they made her this way? You were kids and the Capitol stole your innocence like it was nothing. For you and Finnick, they did it by selling you, and for Johanna, they did it by killing her family.

It may not have been fair to call Katniss lucky, she lost a lot, but at least her sister was alive. At least she still had a family. At least she wasn’t completely dead inside, like Johanna. Like Finnick. 

Like you. Johanna ended up walking off, giving the excuse that she’d get you both water. You all made your way back to the beach after that. You sat there, staring off into the distance. This place could’ve been beautiful, you thought. But now blood had been spilled all over it.

What was beautiful about that?

You didn’t have all the answers. Right now, it felt like you didn’t know anything. All you knew was that the man you loved was alive, arm wrapped around you, heart beating. Did he know that he was the only “sure” thing you had? Did he know how much you loved him?

It felt like you were supposed to tell him. You were gonna die soon; The Games would come to end, and so would your life. It felt like he was supposed to know. If you were gonna die, then shouldn’t he at least knew how you felt about him, how in love you were with him?

The answer you came to was no. You weren’t gonna complicate things—God knew this was already complicated enough, this thing you had. You didn’t have time to learn new steps to the dance. You just wanted to let the music play and dance until you couldn’t dance anymore.

You had been sitting there for a little while when Katniss broke the silence. “Who’s Bay?” You turned to her, but she wasn’t looking at you, staring at nothing like you were.

“Katniss-” Finnick tried to interject, but you stopped him, putting your hand on his without looking at him. If you looked him in the eye right now, then he’d be able to tell just how broken you felt. He could read you so easily. You didn’t want him to read you right now when you didn’t have the energy to fake it.

You didn’t want him to see you getting ready to die.

You weren’t exactly Katniss’ biggest fan, and she wasn’t yours, but here you were, sitting together in the same arena. She was you. She was you before everything got bad, worse than it already was.

Soon, you wouldn’t be allies anymore. Soon, one of you would die. So you’d bring down the mask, just for a second. Before you ended up on different sides, you’d show her that you were just like her.

“Bay…” you faltered, “I guess I didn’t know him all too well. Lived in the same district for fifteen years, but I never even spoke to him before we were in that arena, and by then, it was too late.” A burning sensation grew in your throat. “He died in my arms. He- he was gonna take the money from winning and take care of his parents, make sure they didn’t have to worry. He didn’t get to. So I did. I took care of ‘em- didn’t even dent my pockets.” A humourless chuckle left your lips. “You know, my mom and I don’t talk anymore. Says I’m a different person, and she’s right. So, sometimes, I think Bay was just better off.”

Katniss finally turned to you. She didn’t say anything- she didn’t have to. You saw the look in her eyes; she understood. But you wished she didn’t. You wished that nobody had to understand. You wished that Johanna didn’t understand, that Finnick didn’t understand. You wished that you could’ve all just been kids for a little while longer.

That’s when you got up, walking over to where the sand met the water. You wanted to admire this place before you were gone.

You heard someone walk up behind you, immediately knowing it was Finnick.

His voice was quiet, even though you were far from everyone else. “You never told me about Bay’s parents.” If only he knew all the things you didn’t tell him. 

But you didn’t say that. Instead, you just said, “I know.” He didn’t say anything else after that, wrapping arm around your waist and pulling you to him. You stared off into the distance together, just like those cold nights at the Capitol you spent together.

Sometimes, saying nothing with him was the equivalent of saying everything. 

Sometimes, it was better than saying anything.

You hadn’t been standing there for too long when Johanna came over, telling you guys that Beetee had a plan. You joined the others, listening to him explain how he wanted to lure the Careers to the beach then electrocute them as lightning struck the tree at midnight.

It was risky, and it all counted on the Brutus and Enobaria being at the beach in the first place, but you supposed it beat going into combat with them. You could take them if you needed to, but if there was a plan you could implement to avoid that, then you would.

If this plan worked, then the Careers would die instantly, leaving only the six of you in the arena. But only one of you would walk out, and it had to be Finnick.

Despite how the two of you had been at each other’s throats, you didn’t want to kill Katniss. You didn’t want to kill Peeta, the boy who reminded you so much of Finnick. You didn’t want to kill Beetee, who had made you laugh so many times you were at the Capitol. And you certainly didn’t want to kill Johanna, who was perhaps one of the only friends you had.

You hoped it wouldn’t be you, that you wouldn’t be the one to kill them. You didn’t want to kill anymore. You just wanted this to end.

You were so consumed by these thoughts that you missed the looks Finnick and Johanna shared and the look Beetee threw their way.

By nightfall, you were back in the jungle, making your way to the lightning tree. Beetee said something science-y, then you got started, wrapping the wire he invented around the tree.

“Typically, a lightning strike contains five billion joules of energy. We don’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity when this hits,” he said, finishing one last wrap before walking over to you, coil in hand. “You three girls, go together now. Take this. Unspool it carefully. Make sure the entire coil is in the water. You understand? Then head to the tree at the two o’clock sector. We’ll meet you there.”

You nodded, grabbing the coil as Peeta cut in, “I’m gonna go with them as a guard.”

You snorted, “What, golden boy, afraid we can’t protect ourselves?” Even in the dark, you could see the redness climb up his neck. “Don’t worry, your fiancé’s gonna be fine.”

“She’s right. They can protect themselves just fine. You’re staying here to protect me. And the tree,” Beetee dictated.

You glanced between Katniss and Peeta, spotting hesitation in both of them. It was happening, you realized. They were already moving to the other side of the board.

“No, I need to go with her.”

“There are two Careers out there. I need at least two guards.”

“Finnick can protect you just fine on his own- Y/N and I could trade places.”

Katniss now spoke up, “Yeah, why don’t Johanna, Finnick, and Y/N stay with you and Peeta and I’ll take the coil?”

“You want to face the Careers by yourself?” You narrowed your eyes. Katniss looked to you, trying to maintain an unwavering expression. “You do realize that you’ve only been at this a year, right? Not only that, you’re from 12. These are people who trained their whole lives just to kill.”

Katniss didn’t have a response, just as you expected. Finnick must have caught onto the tension, questioning, “Is there a problem here?”

Beetee responded speedily, “Excellent question.” Katniss looked back to him, and you knew that she knew her fight was over. She was out of her depth here.

After a second, she replied, “No. There’s no problem.” Not yet, but knowing her, there would be one soon. You and Johanna waited for her to say her goodbyes to Peeta before getting ready to go.

You were walking away when you suddenly came to a stop. You passed the coil to Katniss, then walked back to the tree. Finnick’s brows raised as you beelined for him, but then his eyes just closed as your lips met his.

The music was louder than it’d ever been, like it knew that the beat could drop any minute now. This kiss was equal passion and softness. You kissed him like you’d never get do it again, and that could very well be true. He kissed back just as passionately, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him.

You knew Finnick didn’t love you. You knew he had a girl waiting for him back home, but if you were gonna die, then you just wanted to do that one last time. You wanted one last kiss from your one true love, even if you weren’t his.

When you eventually pulled away for air, he still didn’t let you go, resting his forehead against yours as you both breathed heavily. “I- I need to go now.”

He ran a hand through your hair, opening his eyes to look into yours. “I’ll see you at midnight?” You smiled, hoping he didn’t see how sad you were.

“Yeah, I’ll see you at midnight,” you said, knowing how probable it was that you wouldn’t.

Then you walked away.

The jungle was dead silent except for the sound of your footsteps and crickets. All you had to do was get to the beach, then get as far away from it as possible. You wanted to meet Finnick at midnight.

But that wasn’t gonna happen.

Katniss suddenly stopped. You looked to her, seeing her trying to pull the coil to no avail. “There’s something…” She pulled it again, and then the wire snapped.

You saw Brutus, knowing Enobaria couldn’t have been far away. You pulled your sword out of its sheath while Katniss drew an arrow, but before either of you could do anything, you were falling to the ground, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Your head spun. You didn’t need to see it to know that you were losing blood—you could feel it. Get up, get up, get up, get up, you chanted, but it was as if your limbs were frozen.

You heard Katniss scream. You mustered up the strength to turn you head, seeing Johanna leaning over her, cutting into her arm. She shushed her, then looked up and cursed under her breath.

“Both of you, stay down,” she grit out, then she threw her axe at targets you couldn’t see, running away from you both. She did this, you realized. For some reason, you were shocked, but didn’t you always know this would happen? Didn’t you always know that you’d end up against each other in the end?

Didn’t you already know this would end in your last breath?

You did, but you still found yourself questioning: was this it? Was this how you died? Did Johanna just leave you to die?

Suddenly, you could hear Finnick, screaming yours and Johanna’s names. You wanted to scream back, to tell him you were right there, but it was like your mouth couldn’t form the words.

This was it. This was how you died.

You’d been preparing for this since the Quell was even announced, but you just weren’t expecting it, not yet. There were still people left.

At that thought, it was like the world stopped. 

There were still people left.

You couldn’t just leave Finnick to fend for himself.

You shot up as if you had just been doused in cold water, reaching beside you to feel that your sword was still there. Your eyes searched for Katniss. She was just right next to you, but now she was nowhere to be seen. You didn’t even know that she left.

You shakily stood up, dots dancing around your vision the same way you were. You still had dancing to do.

A cannon fired, and you started running, screaming Finnick’s name, not caring if alerted anyone of where you were. You ran faster as you heard the sky booming.

Soon, Finnick came into your vision, Katniss not far from him, aiming an arrow up to the sky. 

And then you saw nothing.

The last thing you remembered was being blasted backward, sparks everywhere, lightning.

And then the music stopped.

When Finnick woke up, it was like he almost forgot where he was, and then he remembered what happened. Katniss shot an arrow at the force field.

He ripped the IV out of his arm, pushing past the aching in his bones and sitting up, looking around. Katniss and Beetee were lying down in front of him, still asleep. He furrowed his brows. There was no one else.

His eyes darted around the room, looking for you, looking for a sign that you were here, but he couldn’t find one.

“Y/N?” His voice echoed in the empty room. You didn’t answer.

He got up, calling your name louder. “Y/N?” Still no answer. 

This was impossible. You had to be here, you had to be on the hovercraft somewhere, you just had to. His mind went to the worst case scenario, but that couldn’t be. You had to be here.

He went for the first doors he saw, expecting to see you on the other side, but he was only met with Haymitch and Plutarch. His heart beat faster now. Where were you?

He ignored Haymitch completely, turning to Plutarch. “Where is she?” It should’ve been an easy answer, but the Gamemaker had an expression that Gamemakers rarely had. Sympathy. 

No. This can’t be happening.

He stepped closer, venom in his voice. “Where is she?”

Haymitch intervened. “Finnick, maybe you wanna sit down-”

“Where the fuck is my girlfriend?” They both gave each other a look that infuriated him even further. “Is someone gonna tell me where she is or are you two just gonna stand here all day?”

“Finnick-”

“Where is she, Plutarch?”

The greying man stared at him like he was hesitant to speak, which was saying something, because Plutarch always said whatever was on his mind. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, like he was trying to calm down a rabid animal. “Her tracker was never removed-”

“Okay, so where is she?”

“We couldn’t get her, Finnick.” His ears rang.

They couldn’t get her.

“We couldn’t get Johanna and Peeta, either-”

All of a sudden, Finnick charged at him, but Haymitch quickly went and stopped him, holding him back. “You said you’d get her out! You told me she was gonna be safe!”

“Calm the hell down, Finnick!”

“Oh, you’re one to talk!” He pushed himself out of Haymitch’s arms, turning and glaring at him. “Katniss is here! Of course, you’re calm- my person is still out there!”

“She’s still alive.”

“Yeah, for how long?”

Plutarch cut in, “They won’t kill her, Finnick. They know how valuable she is.”

“You don’t have to make someone’s heart stop to kill them, Heavensbee,” he spat. “If anyone should know that, it’s you.” The Gamemakers were creative. He knew that the Capitol would spare no expense to hurt you.

After what they did, rebelling like this, you’d be the one to answer for it. Even though you didn’t know a thing about it.

“Listen, kid, you need to calm down now.” Haymitch looked at him with hard eyes. “You need to pull it together. When Katniss wakes up, she’s gonna be confused and angry, just like you. We need her. If you want any of this to mean something, if you want any chance of ever seeing your girl again, then we need her. So you need to cool it.”

Finnick ran a hand through his hair, mind moving seventy miles per hour. The Capitol had you. They had you. You were supposed to be here, and they had you, and he didn’t even get the chance to tell you. There was so much to tell you, and what if he never got that chance again?

Haymitch was right. If he wanted to see you again, to have that chance, to ever dance with you again, then he had to pull it together. He had to be strong.

For you.

“Okay, what do you need me to do?”

Your death was always expected, at least it was to you. When you pictured an ending in your head, this was it. You knew it was coming. What you didn’t expect was ever waking up again. 

But you did.

Your eyes opened to a dark room, fluorescent lights flickering on the ceiling. This wasn’t the arena, but you’d soon learn that you didn’t need to be in an arena to play a twisted game. 

Am I alive? you wondered.

Your question was soon answered. No, you weren’t alive. You were in Hell.

Because, sitting in a chair across from you, was the Devil himself.

President Snow smiled. “Hello, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“It appears that you and I have a lot to discuss.”

Taglist: @avoxrising @mxacegrey @littleshadow17 @lovelyteenagebeard @nasyanastya @catastrxblues @zodiyack @zulpix-blog @mushroomelephant @muggies

[randomdragonfires]

Time Can't Stop Me Quite Like You Did | Chapter 2

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

Chapter 2 | And So, We Begin Again

SUMMARY | She leans on the doorway and watches as Aemond Targaryen takes a lengthy drag out of his cigarette - tiny embers of the burning tip being the only light in all the space around him. He is withdrawn and lost in his own thoughts, always - just as she knows him to be.

It is at this moment that it strikes her.

It's him that she's in love with. It's always been him.

WARNINGS | 18+; SMUT; Angst with a Happy Ending; Grooming; Attempted Rape/Non-Con; Blood and Injury; Violence

WORD COUNT | 10.2k

Check out the lovely artwork my friend @azperja has made for this fic, HERE!

IT'S A LONGSTANDING BIRTHDAY TRADITION OF THEIRS. 

For each of Daeron’s birthdays, she comes in with two drinks in hand. Her choice is a Sunspearino, while his is an Iron Throne Iced Tea. There’s also a box of lemon cakes from the King’s Landing Roastery, a huge chain of cafes co-owned by two of her eight older half-siblings. It's a place they often visit when she craves coffee.

Sometimes, they would sneak whiskey from Viserys’ liquor cabinet, mixing it into their drinks while lounging on his bed. They'd watch the rom-com she selects, spending the afternoon together before Alicent’s planned dinner, a big party she always throws for each of her children's birthdays every year. Initially, their mothers arranged snacks and playdates, but as they grew, it evolved into what it is now. However, this year, on his seventeenth, it would seem that the tradition is at its end.

She has been waiting for him for three hours.

The house staff let her in and inform her that Daeron isn’t home. Despite their recent strain, she was confident he wouldn't forget her and their time on his birthday.

He’ll come, she thinks.

The clock's tick-tock seems never-ending as she hopes for his arrival to drown it out.

He'll walk in right now, and apologize for being late, she thinks.

The posters on his wall appear to mock her, reminding her of the disrupted tradition caused by a girl he's been seeing for less than a month. She wants to cry, to tear the papers to shreds and glue.

Any moment now, she thinks.

Her fingers dig into his mattress, catching her charm bracelet on a loose stray thread. It pricks her wrist as she waits, tears blurring her vision and wetting her skirt. He’s going to come right now, she thinks.

The ice in her Sunspearino, a strong black coffee with three sugars, has completely melted, forming a layer of water on top. The melted ice creates drops on the to-go cup, making her wait evident.

He's on his way, she thinks.

Perhaps she is wrong. With every passing second, her faith in him dwindles.

How did they come to this?

Her heart weighs heavy as she finally gathers the courage to stand up and leave. She takes her drink but leaves his, hoping he'll realize what he forgot when he returns to find her gone. Would he even think of her?

He’s not coming.

She leans out of his window, watching Alicent oversee the garden's decor for the outdoor birthday party. She knows what it’ll look like, having attended many of these before. Fairy lights, candles, good wine, and delicious food - she has fond memories of Daeron’s birthday parties. Last year, he convinced the string quartet to play a song they could dance to, and he spun her around - making her feel like she could fly high, higher and higher still.

The longer she stares, the blurrier her vision becomes. Rubbing her red, puffy eyes, she walks out, each step feeling heavier than the last. Helaena and Aegon will likely arrive later in the night, and her own city-residing siblings may make an appearance. Aemond will be coaxed out of hiding, and they'll all have a good time. She won't join tonight, and as she resolves to stay away, she wonders.

Is he bringing Floris Baratheon tonight?

She closes the doorknob with a flick as she steps out.

Will Floris sit with him as she has for all these years? Held by him, as she has desired for so long?

She clenches the drink tightly, some of the coffee spilling onto her hand as she allows the tears to fall.

Will he kiss Floris and dance with her this year, just as he did with her?

She walks swiftly, hoping to remain unnoticed as she desperately hides her face within her hair, which falls on either side of her shoulders like a dark curtain, allowing in just the right amount of light.

Will he even consider her presence? Will he--

First, she hears the moans, then she notices the slightly open door.

She is not quite in the headspace to make out what’s happening, but she knows this for a fact - she is not meant to see. 

The drink slips down her hand and spills in a puddle, wetting her shoes and the carpet that she has no doubt will be cleaned up by angry staff in the next few hours. She gasps just enough for the woman, in between whose thighs Aemond Targaryen’s unmistakable head is nestled - the longer silver hair, an easy contrast to the haircut of the younger brother that she is very familiar with is a dead giveaway - to hear, and she looks straight at her.

She’s got striking green eyes, jet black hair and a piercing gaze that makes her want to squirm. Alys Rivers is definitely enjoying herself as Aemond continues his ministrations with his tongue between her legs. Her moans, each of which are loud and encouraging to him, come as she maintains steady eye contact with her as her own tear-struck, heavy eyes struggle to make sense of the scene before her.

She is older than his mother, and he’s just eighteen.

She runs. 

Her foot kicks away the discarded coffee cup in her rush, drawing Aemond's attention to the unexpected audience. She hears him swearing faintly as she runs. First, the sound of the door closing, then opening again, but she doesn't stick around to find out what happens next.

What had she walked into?

Alys Rivers - she's seen her at numerous gatherings with her father. Co-owner of Harrenhal Communications with her brothers Larys and Harwin Strong, all children of her school's principal, Lionel. Alys isn't close to Aemond's age, and that worries her. But she can't figure out what to do - her legs are moving faster than her mind can process. She heads to the garden, intending to leave, but Alicent spots her and beckons her over, diverting her escape.

"Your movie time ended early! Come try the cak -” 

"He didn't show," she blurts, noticing Alicent's softening and then hardening expression.

"I'm so sorry, my sweet." Alicent begins.

"It's fine. He was probably busy," she replies, struggling to think clearly. She just wants to leave, but Alicent insists she stay for the party. Overwhelmed, she pleads to go home, and Alicent eventually lets her go.

She's almost out when Aemond catches up and pulls her outside the gate to avoid any messy explanations. He's about to tell her something she's not ready for, she knows. As he grabs her shoulders and gazes into her eyes, she realizes she wasn't prepared for this when she arrived.

“You can’t tell anyone, Wylde.”

His words serve as a vivid reminder of the scene she has just witnessed. Aemond, buried between Alys Rivers' thighs, while Alys locked eyes with her, as if daring her to acknowledge the ecstasy. Startled, she spilled her drink and ran, ran, ran-

"How long?" she manages to ask through the fog in her mind, her grip tightening on her skirt, unable to face him, thoughts swirling in her head.

"A little over six months," he admits.

He turned eighteen six months ago. Apparently, they had been involved since he became legal to make his own decisions. The implications dawn on her - had she pursued him when he was younger? Her breath catches.

"Is she... is this..." she looks up, and Aemond, sweating, grapples with the sudden exposure of his clandestine affair. "Is she... she's old enough to be your mother!"

Silence engulfs them, the kind that’s not comfortable. Aemond's tight grip startles her, and his furious violet eye, contrasting with his brother's, glares at her. "Don't be stupid. Don't tell anyone, and you'll listen to me -" he asserts, the anger palpable.

She suggests, "Is she grooming you? Gods, is it blackmail? Should I tell your mother? Are you afraid? I-"

“Fucking hell,” he seethes. “She’s not fucking grooming me, you’d think that I’m smart enough to not let that happen to me -”

“Aemond, you can tell me.” She struggles with her words.

"You're fucking dumb, Wylde," he retorts sharply, his words spilling faster than he can process. His prosthetic eye appears to take on a life of its own in his rage.

“People usually deny it first. You don’t have to, it’s just me and I want to hel-”

“You’re fucking dumb, Wylde.” The words tumble out of his lips faster than his mind can catch up. She sees the way his jaw tightens and she knows Aemond has always been angry and too quick to react, but she is not prepared for the way his throat bobs as he swallows and prepares to strike at her heart.

“Perhaps if you weren’t such an idiot and jumped to stupid conclusions, Daeron would actually fucking like you back.”

The words are painful, harsh and probably true, and they hit her like whiplash. 

With what she’d seen of Aemond and Alys Rivers, she had momentarily forgotten what she was actually at the house for. But it all comes back to her as she curls into herself as much as she can in his hold, the tears free falling in her embarrassment and sadness. Her head faces down and she refuses to let him see, and it is all becoming a bit much.

She feels her legs become wobbly and she wants to breathe and be let go of so she can run to the comforts of her room like the coward that she is - but she cannot get her body to listen. It refuses to comply and move and she stands there, still held in Aemond’s vice grip as he mutters Valyrian curses under his breath - she’s heard Daeron mutter some of the words before. He smells strongly of coffee and cigarettes and it is too much, too much -

“Shit, fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m so fucking sorr-”

“Let go of me, Aemond.” Her voice is eerily calm and she can see that it momentarily stuns him. He doesn’t let go, however. “I’m sorry, Wylde. Just… you can’t fucking tell. I-”

“Let. Go.” She tries to wrangle out of his hold and he refuses to let her leave until she agrees to keep his secret. Her mind is running a mile a minute as she imagines Aemond being a young lad, being preyed on by an older woman and not knowing a thing. She does not want to keep his dirty secret, she wants to go-

“LET GO OF ME, AEMOND!”

Her louder tone seems to have attracted Criston Cole’s attention, and he’s quick to rush to them and pull Aemond away from her. His black shirt-clad figure moves away from her and she is stunned - so bloody stunned - and not at all prepared for Criston’s low voice. 

"Your mother is looking for you," he tells Aemond, who leaves, imploring her silence with his stoic gaze - one that he does not drop till he’s out of her sight.

"Are you alright?" Criston asks, checking her for injuries. She mumbles apologies and retreats.

“No.” Her voice is cracked and the bodyguard is at a loss for words - he’s not quite used to comforting teenage girls, she can tell. She uses this as her cue to hastily mumble her apologies, and the trusty guardian does nothing as she walks away.

Later that night, she’s locked up in her room, nestled under the covers as she thinks over all that has happened. She’s sure that the party at Maegor’s is in full swing, and that they’re all probably having loads of fun.

Without her. 

Her brother, one that she does not see often, texts her and asks why she isn’t there. He says he'll be staying at Rain House tonight, and she does not respond. Alicent texts her to check if she’s eaten. Helaena texts her and asks if she’s home so she can come over, and Aegon sends her a plain, “Where the fuck are you, Wylde?”

It makes her want to cry.

Aemond does not bother with her at all - and if she's being honest, she’d say she’s glad for the distance he’s put between them in the last few hours. Almost an hour later, when it’s close to midnight, Daeron texts her. 

I’m sorry, can we talk? 

She lets her phone fall away, leaving him to make his own assumptions. She is reminded once again of the hours she spent in his room today, waiting for him to come. She feels pathetic, wondering if he thought so less of her that he’d chosen to forego something that they’d done for years, without so much as a warning. She feels the tears prick at her eyes once more, but she is resolute - she will not spend any more time crying or missing a boy that did not want to give her time of day anymore.

When she looks back, she is thoroughly convinced that this is the day that she finally fell out of love with her best friend, even if she isn’t quite ready to admit to it yet.

OVER THE COMING WEEKS, HER LIFE BLURS into a haze of avoidance, deliberately steering clear of anything related to the Targaryens. At school, she strategically distances herself from Daeron, swiftly darting away when the bell rings, determined not to give him a chance to approach her.

"I don't want to speak to him," she asserts to Elinor Beesbury, her gaze fixed on her untouched food. Daeron’s persistent attempts to reconcile only fuel her resolve to keep her distance. It's a delicate balance between her lingering attachment and the painful recognition that their bond has irreversibly shifted.

Elinor studies her with concern, "You'll have to let go at some point, love."

She nods silently, acknowledging the futility of holding onto resentment. Months of grappling with her feelings have taught her the necessity of moving on. Yet, the wounds still sting fresh, the memories of his repeated indifference are etched into her heart.

"Soon. But not now," she affirms.

"Alright, just so you know, I hear Floris Baratheon's asked him to come with her to her senior prom," Elinor adds, trying to infuse levity into the conversation. But the prospect of Daeron moving on so swiftly brings forth an unsettling wave of emotions, mingling with her lingering frustration.

“Come on, don’t be like that! You're sexy and awesome, and he's a piece of shit! Like, sexy is… in your blood! Wasn’t a great grandmother of yours like, the OG sex guru or something?”

“Great great great great great great grandmother. And she wasn’t a sex guru, she was the first recorded published author of erotic fiction  in Westeros!”

Many in the world know of Coryanne Wylde, with the wild woman being known for having written A Caution For Young Girls - an erotic cult classic that opened the doors for erotic literature in Westeros. History candidates in college end up reading it sometimes for their lessons, and it never fails to surprise her.

“Exactly! You get it from your grandma! And next year, our prom is gonna be so sexy, babe. You mark my words!” She grimaces at the suggestion of involving herself with another boy, her focus fixated on Daeron and what little that remains. Despite her friend's efforts to lighten the mood, the weight of her unresolved emotions lingers - she supposes it will take a bit of time.

Heading to her locker after lunch, her path unexpectedly intersects with Aemond, whose intense presence startles her. The curious gazes of their peers heighten the tension, drawing attention to their rare encounter. Aemond's enigmatic aura, accentuated by his leather jacket and disheveled man bun, exudes an unsettling magnetism, contrasting sharply with Daeron's more approachable charm.

Her mind involuntarily delves into the memories of Alys Rivers, a stark reminder of Aemond's heavily inappropriate relationship that she is now privy to. The betrayal, the hurt, the raw emotions from what he’d said to her later surge within her, and she blurts out, "What do you want?" with an edge of apprehension, unwilling to be drawn into another tumultuous dynamic.

Aemond stands so close that she can feel the warmth of his breath, and she is stunned by how, within days of stepping away from Daeron, she's standing so close to Aemond, especially after having not even properly spoken to him in many years. They both stand in the corner of the corridor with their backs leaned back against the lockers. Aemond surprisingly murmurs to her, asking if she and Daeron are fighting because she wasn't at his birthday party or the Sunday lunch. She grunts at him, her non-response making her emotions clear.

You’re fucking dumb, Wylde.

Perhaps if you weren’t such an idiot and jumped to stupid conclusions, Daeron would actually fucking like you back.

He seems to wrestle with something within himself, his jaw clenching before he finally speaks. "I didn't mean what I said that day, you know. I was angry and it came out all wrong."

She scoffs, her hand shaking as she points a finger at him. "It doesn't matter! You had no right to say those things to me."

Aemond's grip on her wrist startles her, his commanding gaze penetrating her defenses. Despite her efforts to distance herself, she finds herself drawn into a tense exchange, confronting the pain he had caused her at Daeron's birthday.

The conflict within Aemond surfaces, his facade of aloofness crumbling as he attempts to reconcile with her. Her anger flares, yet the sting of his remorse momentarily softens her resolve, only to be replaced by the bitterness of his persistent complications.

Aemond's expression falls, and he reaches out as if to touch her, but hesitates and drops his hand to his side. "I know, I'm sorry, Wylde. But you have to understand, it's not easy for me either."

As hurt as she is by his words, she knows she wants to help him and see him through the mess he’s gotten himself into with Alys Rivers - even if he doesn’t see it that way right now. So she chooses to reach out. Just one more time.

“Then tell me. What's going on? Aemond, I know we haven't been close in a long while, but I want to help.”

Aemond's gaze softens, and he opens his mouth and shuts it close, almost as though he wants to say something but opts not to - but she's had enough. She does not want to be put in a difficult position where she’s navigating relationship dynamics that are probably a lot more problematic than anything she’s ever known - especially not if he doesn’t even want to tell her.

Pushing away from the lockers, she turns to walk away, her steps quickening with each stride. But before she can get far, she feels a surge of frustration and pain erupt within her, and she turns around, her voice raised to a shout. "I don't want to hear from you or him, ever again! You’ve both done enough."

She looks around for just a moment, very conscious of the students that were now noting them by the corner of their eyes. She knows she shouldn’t go on, and that if she did, they’d become gossip fodder - but she cannot help herself.

“You Targaryens have got everyone wrapped around your finger, don't you? Think you can say whatever you want and get away with it," she lashes out, her voice trembling with the weight of her wounded trust.

Aemond winces, the impact of her words evident in his pained expression. "I never wanted to hurt you, Wylde. Things are complicated and I…" he murmurs, gulping as his gaze pleads with hers for understanding. But her resolve remains unyielding, fueled by a well of hurt and resentment.

"I don't care about your complications. You had no right saying those things to me, and now I want you to leave me the fuck alone."

HE'S ALWAYS HAD STRONG FEELINGS ABOUT THE YOUNGEST WYLDE BEING A PART OF THEIR LIVES.

Aemond can't quite discern the exact nature of his emotions. She has been a constant presence in the family ever since her family returned to the Red Keep town all those years ago, after her father secured his place as one of the executive directors on the board of Targaryen Consolidated. Over time, Jasper Wylde had grown to be a reliable work companion to his father, leaving his wife and youngest daughter behind to reside near his boss' family.

When her second pregnancy failed and Jeyne Wylde passed, their young daughter seamlessly fell in with the Hightower-Targaryen fold under the care of his mother. Rain House had become desolate with Jasper's older children from previous marriages moving away, and the young girl was sadly left behind.

Aemond isn't certain what his mother had in mind when she practically ushered the Wylde girl into his and his siblings' lives thereafter. She had never been keen on outsiders stepping into their lives as much as Wylde had. Yet, he couldn't find it within himself to complain.

Through life's ebbs and flows - be it his eye or her mother's passing - she had always been there, gradually weaving herself into their existence. Before he knew it, she had become a daily fixture in their lives - laughing as Aegon spun her around, attempting to flirt with her; accompanying Helaena on her bug expeditions across the estate; reading quietly with him in his father's library during their childhood and transforming into Daeron's shadow in every way. She was always there when he embarked on mischief, a quintessential trait for any youngest child.

Daeron was the prankster, and she, the lookout. Always.

He witnessed their first day of school together, navigating the challenges of being around children other than each other. He observed their struggles with tying uniform ties for weeks until Alicent stepped in to teach them. He's seen her occasional presence at breakfast, sometimes ending up in the car with them on the way to campus.

He listened to their endless chatter, her incessant and somewhat annoying foot tapping during weekend lunch conversations when she felt uneasy or self-conscious, and the way Daeron's friendship with his best friend had grown stronger over the years. He noticed how her gaze upon Daeron had evolved, her friendship gradually transforming into something more, something his younger brother clearly did not appreciate or reciprocate.

He has watched and listened. For years, it's been his means of engagement during times when he preferred not to be directly involved. Perhaps, if others did the same, they might uncover why Wylde hadn't returned to Maegor's since Daeron's birthday.

"I don't know, Mum. I texted her, but she didn't respond," Daeron says.

The chair next to his younger brother remains empty, and curiously enough, the atmosphere during lunch seems quieter than usual. Aemond attributes this to Wylde's absence. Her mindless chatter effortlessly filled the gaps of awkwardness, and now, the Targaryens were left to grapple with a Sunday afternoon meal without the lively girl.

"You should apologize to her in person," his mother advises Daeron, yet her gaze remains fixed on him. His eyes inadvertently shift to Cole, who undoubtedly divulged details about the incident he had with Wylde outside the gates after she had seen him and Alys.

How much do they know?

"She's been avoiding me like the plague, Mum. I'll give her some time to cool off, I suppose."

He's watched, listened, and picked up cues over the years. It comes in handy with his mother, who never lets her emotions overpower her. Any instinctual response she has is always gone in a flash - quicker than you know - and right now is no exception. She wants to get Daeron to see sense - but if there’s one thing that Alicent Hightower has given her children, it’s autonomy.

Given how little he believes she had of it when his grandfather essentially pushed her into his father's arms, Aemond has always appreciated that it's the one thing she'd never take away from her children. He knows she has made peace with watching her children make peculiar choices she wouldn't make, but it's not her burden until they make it clear they need her. Her palpable anger at Daeron's indifference towards his best friend dissipates as swiftly as it emerged.

He knows she's concerned. They all are. Jasper Wylde is rarely present, and Rain House is a hollow residence compelled to seem lively with the presence of staff. It had been a much warmer place long ago, back when Jeyne Wylde was alive. His mother has always considered the youngest Wylde one of her own, and she's cared for her over the years as well.

"She doesn't pick up when I call either," his mother muses, her furrowed brow betraying her stoic nature and making her momentary worry obvious. However, Aemond knows. He watches and listens, always.

Just a few days ago, while atop his motorbike, he heard that Jason Lannister had asked her out on a date.

Lannister had started on the school football team when Wylde's half-brother was captain. While he made his interest in his former captain's little sister known, he knew better than to make it obvious to her brother.

He had never favored the golden-haired fool. Now in the same final year of school as Aemond, the current football team captain is shallow, self-absorbed, and, in a way that puzzles him, still popular among the students. He fails to see the appeal of someone like him - he prefers Tyland, who is much easier to converse with and not easily provoked. He always assumed that Wylde was wise enough not to slip up.

He had assumed wrong.

She was likely out with Jason, learning to replace her Sunday lunch times at his house with something else. Adjusting won't happen swiftly, he knows. It takes a great deal to disrupt an established routine - but he won't hold it against her. It was obvious to him that Daeron started it first.

"You can't be upset with me for having a girlfriend, Mum. Neither can she... It's not fair. Things change," Daeron huffs. “You’re both ruining it for me. Floris has asked me to go to her senior prom with her, and I’m going. I'm sorry that you both will probably hate me for it, but she should get over herself, and so should you!”

His mother does nothing apart from poking at the insides of her cheek with her tongue. Wylde's absence looms over the house whenever awkwardness settles, and this time is no exception. Daeron sighs at his mother's subtle disappointment and storms out, muttering about having dinner with Floris.

It doesn’t escape Aemond's notice that in a better time, he'd actually be grabbing breakfast pancakes for dinner with Wylde instead. Aemond recalled the last time she'd come for lunch. Her foot tapping had bothered him so much that he nearly contemplated plunging his fork into her thigh to make it stop. She seemed highly anxious that day, evident in the relentless tap, tap, tap, tap of her feet.

Not seeing her for a while, the absence of the irritating sound, usually accompanied by the loud jingle of her bracelet on the hand she keeps near her thigh, should bring him a sense of calm. It shouldn't bother him at all.

But it does. It does, it does, it does.

[A MONTH LATER, PROM NIGHT]

STANDING THERE IN HER EXQUISITE PROM DRESS - the fabric shimmers in a delicate blend of blue and gold - she can't shake the feeling of unease gnawing at her insides. It's a dress she painstakingly picked out, hoping it will add a touch of glamour to this otherwise mundane high school memory. But now, amid the flashy lights and pulsating music, it feels like a facade, a flimsy disguise.

Her mind drifts back to those countless mindless hours she's spent with Jason in the past month, now seeming like distant echoes of a hazy past. Going to football games with his jersey on, pretending to blend seamlessly into his world, she often finds herself feeling like an impostor, a misfit amidst his circle of friends. On her way back home from one of the games, she’d caught Aemond's gaze as she passed by their house. He was seated on his motorbike, getting ready to go out somewhere as he lifted his helmet in his hands, his loose messy bun probably about to get messier from the helmet. In that brief moment, she was sure she’d seen an expression of silent disapproval as he raised his eyebrow at the oversized jersey hanging loosely on her frame. It felt like an unspoken judgment, and she couldn't help but feel out of place - an outsider masquerading as a loyal fan in a world that was never truly hers.

She had curled into herself right then and there. She owes him nothing - just as he owes her no explanation about his messy entanglement with Alys Rivers - but it was not enough to make her feel confident in her choice.

As the days go by, she finds herself entangled in a half-hearted routine of a seemingly typical high school relationship with Jason. They often spend their afternoons at the local diner, sipping on milkshakes and sharing fries, engaging in shallow conversation that never quite delved into the depths of her thoughts. On Friday nights, they would go to the movies, his arm draped loosely around her shoulders, the scent of buttered popcorn lingering in the air. And then, they’d usually end up in her bed.

She enjoyed the sex. She wouldn’t deny it. Jason Lannister knew what he was doing. 

But it wasn’t enough.

Despite the outward appearance of bliss, there lingered a persistent emptiness, a hollow void that echoed within her. She had become a fragment of someone else's world, a mere accessory in the narrative of Jason's life, her own desires fading into the background of their mindless high school romance. And as she retraced these moments, each memory served as a silent reminder of the gaping chasm between her facade of contentment and the relentless ache for something more, something she had yet to discover.

Lost. She is lost.

Standing at the prom, she feels suffocated, trapped in a reality where she has pushed away those who cared for her. 

Floris Baratheon's entrance shifts the atmosphere, drawing everyone's attention with her elegance. Beside her is Daeron, exuding a charming confidence that had always captivated her. Her heart sinks as she realizes that he'll never truly belong to her.

Her gaze meets Daeron's, and she senses a detachment that cuts through her. She stands there, feeling the weight of her insignificance in his life, a mere footnote in his story.

As she turns away, her gaze skimming over the flashy arrival of the popular couple, her attention is drawn to Aemond. He stands aloof in the corner, his immaculately pressed shirt forming a stark contrast to the nonchalance with which his jacket lay carelessly slung over the edge of the nearby bench. A small group of girls from his year encircle him, all seemingly tied to his on-and-off fling, Arianne Martell, whom he has an arm draped around.

A familiar pang on condescension accompanies the sight of his disinterested expression, almost as if it were a trademark of his persona. She isn't taken aback; it seemed to be ingrained in Aemond's very being to treat those around him as if they were inconsequential. How many times has she attempted to initiate a conversation with him, only to be met with cold indifference or a curt dismissal? It is a pattern she has grown accustomed to, yet it still stings with a twinge of rejection each time.

Does Arianne know about the woman that he fucks when he’s not with her? Does she know she’s competing with someone like Alys Rivers?

As she climbs back out of her thoughts and becomes cognizant of her surroundings, she finds that his one violet eye is trained on her. And his gaze is nowhere close to normal as he eyed her date, and observed him being an utter fool in his drunkenness.

For some reason, the thought of Aemond being disappointed in her makes her want to scream.

As she glances around the crowded room, the euphoric energy of the dance floor slowly dissipated, replaced by discomfort. She finds herself feeling suffocated, trapped in a reality she couldn't quite escape - she’s pushed away those that wanted her, so what choice did she have anyhow? 

Jason, in an inebriated state, becomes oblivious to her unease, accentuating her sense of alienation. Overwhelmed by her emotions, she excuses herself, seeking solace in the corridors.

What a waste.

She hasn’t been alone for long when Jason catches up to her, his demeanor laced with a restless energy that seems to mirror her own nervousness. He leans in, his voice laced with a casual nonchalance that grated on her raw nerves. "It’s starting to get boring, I think. I'm ready to bolt. You wanna get out of here?"

She musters a weak smile, attempting to downplay the unease that swirls within her. She’s not quite sure when he’d gotten to standing so close to her, but her discomfort is overpowering and apparent as she inhales the scent of his cologne. "I don't know, Jason. I think I might just stick around for a bit longer." Her voice quivers slightly, betraying the weakness that she struggles to hide.

But Jason seems undeterred by her apprehension. His hand slowly slides around her hip through the fabric of her dress, a touch that sends shivers down her spine, though not in the way she usually longs for. He moves closer, his breath warm against her ear as he whispers. "Come on, it'll be fun. Let's get out of here together."

She tries to step back, to free herself from his grasp, but his hold only tightens, encircling her with an intensity that borders on limitless possessiveness. The glint in his eyes, clouded by the effects of the spiked punch, flickers with a hint of something darker, something she refused to acknowledge until now. She looks to the side, trying to see if she could escape, trying to see anything but him. "Don't be like that, babe. You know you want to be with me."

A surge of fear courses through her, freezing her in place as she feels the cold, hard wall against her back. She leans her head back, her breaths coming in short, panicked gasps as she struggles to find her voice. "Jason, please... let me go."

But his grip remains unyielding, his touch branding her skin with an invisible imprint that fills her with a sense of helplessness. His hand grips onto her wrist, pressing the charms of her gold bracelet into her skin - it will bruise later, she knows. His voice takes on a harsh edge, a sharp contrast to the charming facade she has come to know. 

"Come on, you know you want this.”

In that moment, as the weight of his possession bears down on her, she feels a surge of anger rise within her, mingling with the fear that threatens to consume her. She pushes against him, her voice rising in desperation. "Let me go, Jason."

But his fingers only tighten further, his breath hot against her cheek as he leans in, his eyes clouded with a sense of entitlement she had never noticed before. "You don't get to say no, not now." She could feel her heart racing, her mind sprinting for a way out of this suffocating grip. Panic seizes her, and as she struggles against his hold, her eyes brim with tears that threaten to spill over. She could feel a slight wetness where her charm bracelet had dug into her skin - blood, pricking through her skin in small spots of dark red. 

She’s not quite sure how the scene changes, but it does. All she sees is a flash of silver hair zooming past her, taking Jason down with him.

Aemond.

In the dimly lit corridor, the scene transforms - a blur of chaos and violence as Aemond's fists rain down on Jason, each blow punctuated by a guttural grunt. Jason's face is a mess of blood and fury, his attempts to fend off Aemond's relentless assault futile as he claws and thrashes in a desperate bid for escape.

Aemond's voice cuts through the chaos, edged with a raw fury that she has never heard before. “Fucking stay away from her… stay the fuck away.” Each word is punctuated by a wild hit to the football team captain’s face.

Jason's cries of pain mingle with his own enraged shouts - a mix of aggression and retaliation. "You crazy bastard! Get the fuck off me!" Jason's words are punctuated by the sickening thud of Aemond's fists connecting with his flesh. “Targaryen, for Gods’ sake…”

As the violent altercation unfolds before her, she finds herself unable to process the reality of the situation. The air seems to thicken around her, suffocating her with its weight, and she slumps down to the floor, her hands pressing firmly against her ears in a futile attempt to block out the cacophony of pain and anger as she rocks herself back and forth.

Tears stream down her cheeks, her sobs blending seamlessly with the chaos that engulfs her. She feels the slick warmth of her blood from when the charms on her bracelet had dug into her wrist, now dripping down her arm and onto her elbow - a visceral reminder of the brutal consequences that had been averted by Aemond's timely intervention. Her vision blurs with the weight of her own helplessness, the fear of what might have been gripping her with an intensity she had never known before.

Aemond's voice slices through the chaos with a relentless intensity. "Touch her once again and I’ll make you regret your miserable life!" 

Each word carries a seething rage, matching the force of each brutal strike that fell. Jason's desperate cries are swallowed by the unyielding onslaught, his pleas for respite being drowned out by the unrelenting ferocity of Aemond's fury. "Please, just stop! I didn't mean it!" 

But Aemond's resolve remained unyielding, his voice laced with an unwavering determination. "You're not going to touch her again, you hear me? Not ever! You so much as look at her again…"

As the struggle continues, she feels a surge of gratitude mixed with an unshakable terror. Her mind races with the realization of what might have transpired if Aemond hadn't appeared when he did, the thought of her own vulnerability in the face of Jason's aggression sending chills down her spine. She huddles against the cold wall, her entire being trembling with a wave of fear washing over her.

As Principal Lyonel Strong steps in to diffuse the escalating confrontation, he finds himself confronted by Aemond's seething anger, his one working eye ablaze with an intensity that seems to ignite the very air around them.

"Enough, Aemond!" Principal Strong's voice thunders through the corridor, commanding attention even amidst the chaos. "This is not the way to handle things. We will sort this out, but you need to calm down." Aemond's chest heaves with unrestrained emotion, his bloodied fists clenching at his sides as he glares at the teachers who now surround him. "You don't understand! He had his hands on her! He had no right -"

One of the teachers - she can’t quite place who it is in her disturbed haze - steps forward, her expression as careful blend of concern and authority. "We understand, Aemond, but violence is never the answer. You're all students, and I need to ensure everyone's safety here."

Another teacher, his features etched with concern, attempts to reason with Aemond, his voice a measured attempt at diffusing the tension. "This is not the way to go about things, Aemond!” His jaw tightens as she looks, his gaze flitting between the teachers as he struggles to rein in his emotions. "You're not understanding me! He's not going to get away with this. He was touching her, she didn’t want it! Fucking look at her!"

Jason Lannister has gone limp, possibly unconscious from the beating he’d taken. She cannot bring herself to feel sorry for him.

Principal Strong's voice softens slightly, his stern facade giving way to a hint of understanding. "We will handle it, Aemond. But you need to go home for now. We will inform your mother, and we will discuss this further tomorrow."

Aemond's shoulders sag, the weight of the situation finally settling in as he nods, his expression a turbulent mix of frustration and concern. "Fine. But you better make sure he's dealt with. I won't let this slide. Swear to the Gods I…"

“We take allegations like these very seriously, son. But it does not change the fact that you were caught assaulting a fellow student. Remove yourself from the premises, Aemond. We will ensure that appropriate action is taken after a thorough investigation of the matter.”

The teachers come closer to her, trying to see if she is alright or if she needs to be spoken to. Their presence becomes suffocating to her really quickly as she slinks into herself, and Aemond is near her in an instant.

His voice cuts through the tense air like a sharpened blade, his words a fervent demand that brooks no argument. "Give her some fucking space, all of you! Can't you see she's had enough?”

The teachers, caught between maintaining order and understanding the gravity of the situation, exchange uneasy glances as Aemond kneels before her, his intense gaze a stark contrast to the gentleness that now flickers in his eyes. "Hey, it's okay. It’s me. Look at me, it’s me.”

Aemond. Aemond. Aemond.

“We're getting out of here," he murmurs, his voice a calming presence amidst the chaos that threatens to overwhelm her. She feels the warmth of his rough palm against her cheek, a gentle anchor that tethers her to the present, grounding her and making her feel safe. The echoes of chaos from the school corridor gradually fade into the background, replaced by the rhythmic cadence of her own ragged breaths, each one a testament to the fragile balance she now works hard to maintain.

As they walk, Aemond's voice, low and steady, resonates within her mind, a lifeline that guides her through the tumultuous waves of shock. "Breathe. In and out. You're here, with me. You're safe," he whispers, his words a soothing melody that offers solace in the aftermath of the storm.

She nestles closer to him, her body drawn to the reassuring strength that radiates from his very being. The weight of his presence envelops her, shielding her from the lingering tendrils of fear and uncertainty that threaten to consume her. With each step they take, the distance between them and the chaos of the school grows, replaced by the tranquility of the night and the sense of quietude that blankets their surroundings.

Aemond's unwavering gaze is on her as he guides her along, his touch a constant reminder that she is not alone in her struggle. "You're doing great," he murmurs, the tenderness in his voice a stark contrast to the raw intensity that underscores her earlier encounter with Jason.

Aemond's voice, usually reserved and clipped, softens as he speaks, his words a gentle murmur that cuts through the tense silence between them. "You're going to be alright," he reassures, his tone laced with a rare warmth that belies his usual stoicism. "Just take deep breaths. We'll get you out of here. Okay?”

His touch lingers on her jaw, a silent reassurance that transcends the chaos that still echoes within the confines of her mind. "Let's get you cleaned up," he suggests, a quiet and comforting invitation.

With careful precision, he removes the blood-stained bracelet, each movement deliberate and considerate. As the bracelet disappears into his pocket, a fleeting sick sense of nostalgia washes over her, a bittersweet reminder of the memories she seeks to leave behind. Aemond's intense gaze softens, his eyes reflecting a silent empathy that speaks volumes.

"You're safe now," he assures her, the weight of his words offering a sanctuary that she had thought was beyond her reach only a few moments ago.

Aemond's touch, gentle yet resolute, traces a path of solace along her jawline, each stroke a tender caress that seeks to alleviate the lingering remnants of the chaos that still pulse beneath her skin. He leans his head back as he scans her for any other injuries. "You're safe now," he murmurs again and again, his voice a steadfast anchor in the tumultuous sea of emotions that threaten to engulf her.

With a haphazardly crushed pocket square that he brings out from his other pocket (his mother has forced it upon him when he leaves for the dance), he wipes away the traces of drying blood on her arm - his movements deliberate and precise. The night's breeze carries with it the whispers of uncertainty, but in the steady rhythm of Aemond's movements, she finds a sense of fleeting calm that she had thought had eluded her grasp.

Amidst the whirlwind of emotions that still swirl within her, his repeated words of comfort seem to fade into the backdrop of her consciousness. She grasps onto the steady solidity of his presence, finding a fleeting anchor in the warmth of his protective embrace. As he settles the weight of his helmet onto her head, she feels the sturdy reassurance of his world enveloping her, the scent of leather and motor oil intermingling with the rhythm of her own turbulent thoughts. She sits and makes herself as comfortable as she can on the planes of his hard leather bike seat - she has never sat on his bike before, so it is ridiculous how familiar and made-for-her the comfort feels.

His bloodied knuckles hold the handlebars of the motorbike tight, fists turning to get the accelerator going. The silver ring that he wears and the steel bracelet he has on his wrist are coated in Jason's blood.

When had he begun wearing those?

While his hands become redder in his tight grip, and the cold air hits her calves, now exposed from her hiked-up skirts on either side of the seat, she is reminded that she is with him, and nowhere else.

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

She leans into his back, her cheek finding solace in the reassuring cushion of the interiors of his helmet. She calms down to the feeling of the contours of his spine rising and falling as her vision clears up from the dried tears under the hard glass of the pulled-down visor. Her arms wind around his chest, holding onto him for dear life as the rumble of the motorbike becomes louder and louder, the pace of the noise matching her own ragged heartbeat. The chill air of the night hits her as the school becomes but a distant figure in the distance, smoke from the motorcycle exhaust billowing behind them.

This is the closest she has been to Aemond Targaryen in years. Despite them drifting apart, it is as though all the chaos of the world could be kept at bay, at least for a fleeting moment. She doesn't know where they are going, but she finds that she doesn't care - she is at ease with him.

In the faint chill of the night, he smells of coffee, cigarettes, and smoke - a blend of comfort and safety that lingers in a moment suspended in time.

THERE ARE MANY THINGS THAT SHE KNOWS AEMOND TO DO.

He has his room cleaned each week, like clockwork. He washes that motorbike of his with his own hands every weekend, even though he has staff at the house that would do it for him each day of the week if he so wishes. He rearranges his books often when he thinks nobody is looking. Always makes sure that his clothes are pressed and ready, because Gods forbid he be found looking less than perfect. He can be found spending time with the horses at the stable on the grounds of Maegor’s Holdfast - he took to horse riding after he lost his eye, and has become quite good with intense training. He jogs in the night, always right before dinner. He reads in the house library, long after the other inhabitants of the home have gone to sleep.

Beating the living shit out of someone is not one of those things.

That show of violence is not something that she attributes to him. There’s always a resigned calmness to Aemond that she only ever sees in two other members of his family - his mother and Helaena; you never know they’re thinking.

The rest of the family seems to have something that the old, absent patriarch has funnily dubbed ‘the Targaryen fire.’ But it seems like she is wrong in her assessment, for the boy that stands before her is the complete antithesis of all that she has believed him to be.

The wrinkled white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up and bright red splotches of blood that now adorn it, is not something she associates with him. The heavy silver signet ring and Valyrian steel bracelet - an heirloom that she now remembers was given for his eighteenth birthday - are both accessories that he takes great care of. And yet, tonight, they are both doused in blood. His knuckles are bloodied and bruised, nail marks visible from where Jason tries to claw at him to make him stop - the lack of cleanliness on a sharp man like Aemond jars her.

This is a completely different side to him.

She watches as he wipes off his own hand with the pocket square that is now just as dirty as she feels. She watches him remove the hair tie that he keeps his hair looped in to keep the strays away from his face. She watches him as he hangs the helmet that he takes off of her head, and lets it dangle over the rearview mirror.

She watches, keeps her eyes on him like her life depends on it. She has to. If she doesn’t, she won’t have much else to do. If she is left to herself now, she is convinced she’ll fall apart. For her own sanity, she holds onto Aemond.

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

They stand in front of Chataya’s , the all too familiar neon lights buzzing just slightly as she leans on her back against the motorbike. His black leather riding jacket is probably three sizes bigger on her, but she feels warm in it as she pulls it tighter onto her body. The parking lot is almost empty, and the air plays with her hair as it falls haphazardly in multiple directions. The beautiful dress that she wears now feels cheap to her, and she's decided that the jewelry that she wears is now tacky. Everything that she enjoyed about herself tonight is now tainted by what has happened - she can’t bring herself to think too much about it without physically recoiling.

Shame she'll have to burn the dress.

She watches Aemond through the glass, waiting for their coffees as he stands at the cash counter - ramrod straight. His blood-stained shirt is gaining him many dirty looks from the staff, but no one dares to say a word - he is a Targaryen, after all. The Aemond that she knew back when they were younger - long before they drifted apart - wouldn’t have hit someone. He was too gentle and sweet for that.

Now, however, it’s been made clear to her that he’s willing to fight if he has to.

Aemond asks one of the waitresses for something, his hands not moving much but still enough to convey the message. The woman blushes and points him to the washroom, which he emerges out of a while later, looking comparatively cleaner, blood wiped out. He then pays for the hot drinks and walks out, placing his cup on the bike seat and nudging hers into her grip as he presses the back of her hands into either side of the cup. He is so close to her that he is exuding heat, much like a furnace.

She’d almost forgotten how beautiful she thought his mismatched pair of eyes were. She remembers now.

Her eyes remain fixed on where his hands rest over hers, attempting to warm them up with the hot cup he's holding. She can't muster much beyond a sense of comfort at this moment, acknowledging how much safer his touch feels compared to Jason's.

Jason. Jason asked her out and tried to -

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

Her coffee spills out of the to-go cup, scalding her, leaving her gasping at the brown drops on the edges of his jacket sleeves. She recovers swiftly, wiping her fists on her dress and gathering herself as best she can in her hazy state. They drink in silence, gazing ahead, observing the vehicles zooming past.

The silence is soothing, but she needs a distraction. So she speaks.

And so, after years, they begin again.

"You could have killed him," she murmurs, her eyes fixed on the steaming liquid in her cup. From the corner of her eye, she glances at him. He doesn't turn to look at her, but responds in the same tone she used.

"He would have deserved it."

She can't argue with that. "I didn't know you could punch like that."

"Neither did I." A new side to Aemond Targaryen, yet his responses remain true to his character. Direct, yet everything she needs.

They stand in silence once more as she sips her coffee. He's already finished - always a quick eater, a trait she's noticed from the many times he's hurriedly left the table in recent years - and he crushes the cup, walking to the bin to discard it. On his return, he retrieves a cigarette from his pocket and bites the tip, scanning the surroundings with a searching gaze.

Then, he removes it from his mouth, using his index and middle fingers, and looks at her as if they're just casually hanging out for coffee, not as if he just rescued her from an assault and beat up a fellow classmate to almost death in the process.

"Light?" he asks, before realizing a girl with nothing but the prom dress on her back, the jacket he gave her, and the coffee he bought for her probably doesn't have a lighter with her. He raises an eyebrow and shakes his head before heading back into Chataya's - most likely to charm the cash counter staff into lighting his cigarette despite the no-smoking policy. She watches as he does exactly that, striding out with the lit cigarette between his teeth, as if he owns the damn place.

It is a Sunday night. In an ideal world, she’d be grabbing breakfast pancakes with Daeron for dinner. Tonight however, she is outside at the parking lot, looking out of place in her dress and his jacket, with Aemond fucking Targaryen.

The way the tables have turned is not lost on her. Does Daeron even know what had happened? How Jason had -

Aemond. Aemond. Aemond.

"Daeron was there, wasn't he?" Her voice trembles as she chokes out the word, remembering the reason why she stepped away from the dance floor in the first place. "Yes."

Daeron and Floris Baratheon stepping in together -

Aemond. Aemond. Aemond.

If his disheveled appearance and blood-stained clothes rattle her, she is not prepared for the way he seethes as he hears her answer. "Always behind you like a lost pup, how did he let that happen to you?" His anger at his brother's supposed lack of care for her is only set aside by the long puff that he takes out of his cigarette.

She gulps, the overwhelming emotions taking over her entire being as she holds back the tears that threaten to spill. This is perhaps the first time anyone has asked why Daeron isn't with her ever since they begin to drift apart.

She’s heard many things. At least Targaryen isn't keeping you all to himself now, is one. Found himself another girl to fuck, is another.

She is not prepared for someone to see past Daeron and ask about her.

She does not answer. She cannot. The weight of the night’s events have taken away any and all strength she may have to entertain those around her, and she stands in silence as tears pool in her eyes. The sinking feeling takes over her, and she wipes off her eyes before the tears spin out of control.

Aemond seems to understand, and gives her all the time she needs to compose herself. When she’s done, he seems content to simply stand by her with his cigarette as she takes comfort in the silence around them. The only sounds are the distant clanking of plates, the faint buzzing of the neon sign and horns from vehicles zooming past them.

Somehow, it is enough to help her climb back to the surface. She’d drowned in herself for a moment there, but the fog in her mind is clearing slowly as she tells herself over and over.

She’s safe. Safe. Safe.

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

His presence, though quiet, provides a much-needed anchor amidst the storm of emotions threatening to consume her. In the dimly lit parking lot, the city's pulsating rhythm seems to offer a peculiar solace, a reminder that time passes regardless of what happens and that the world does not stop to allow her a moment to catch her breath.

Aemond's eyes flicker with concern, the smoke from his cigarette dissipating into the night air. He doesn't offer empty words of consolation, recognizing that sometimes silence is the most potent balm for a wounded soul. The night sky above, mottled with the city's glow, bears witness to their shared solitude, a fleeting moment of understanding that needs no verbal exchange.

As the minutes pass, the weight on her chest lightens imperceptibly. A sense of resolve, tempered by the raw vulnerability of the evening, settles within her. She knows the road ahead is fraught with uncertainty, yet a newfound resilience kindles within her. Aemond's silent companionship, unobtrusive yet steadfast, keeps her standing.

Eventually, she draws in a deep breath, steadying herself against the unforgiving reality that awaits beyond the sanctity of this secluded safety that he’s brought her into. With a nod of gratitude to Aemond, she straightens her posture, the remnants of tears drying on her cheeks. Determination flickers in her eyes, an unwavering resolve to confront whatever challenges lie ahead, even if the path seems shrouded in shadows.

The message is clear. She’s ready to be taken back home.

In the soft glow of the streetlights, Aemond navigates the bustling city streets with a practiced ease, the hum of the engine merging seamlessly with the rhythm of her heartbeat. She leans into him, seeking solace in the sturdy presence of his frame, a silent reassurance that she isn't alone in this dizzying world. The wind rushes past them, tousling her hair as she holds onto him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his body beneath her grip.

The cityscape unfolds before her in a blur of neon lights and towering skyscrapers. A fleeting sense of serenity washes over her, cocooned in the safety of Aemond's embrace, as if the world beyond their world of warmth and motion is a distant, inconsequential dream.

Yet, as her house looms into view, a sudden pang of reluctance tugs at her, a gnawing apprehension that threatens to unravel the fragile peace she has painstakingly cultivated in the past hour. Stepping off the bike, she reluctantly peels off Aemond's jacket, feeling the sudden chill of the night air seeping into her bones, mirroring the chill that seeps into her heart.

She turns to him, her eyes meeting his in the muted glow of the streetlamp, searching for a semblance of the solace she had found in his silent companionship. Her fingers linger for a moment on the fabric of his jacket, a poignant reminder of the warmth she craves, both physical and emotional. The weight of unspoken words hangs heavy in the air.

Thank you , she wants to say. She can only manage a weak nod, one that she struggles through while looking down at the road, rather than his mismatched pair of eyes.

Aemond's gaze lingers on her, a flicker of concern mingling with a quiet determination. He reaches out, his hand brushing against her cheek. As though he is convinced there's not much else he can do but give her space, he nods.

As Aemond revs the engine, ready to fade into the night, she stands on the threshold of her home, enveloped in the bitter chill of the evening. She watches the tail lights disappear, and with a steadying breath, she steps inside, the echo of the bike's engine fading into the distance, leaving behind a lingering sense of quiet resolve in its wake.

When she finally manages to sleep, her mind is painted with the image of a captivating pair of mismatched eyes, etched into her brain like a welcome dream.

The bracelet that he’d removed from her wrist - still in his pocket - does not cross her mind at all. 

Not once.

SERIES MASTERLIST

NO TAG LIST. Please follow and turn on notifs for @randomdragonfics for my fic updates!

[nexysworld]

Summary: Leon Kennedy is your new neighbor, and seemingly a great guy; handsome, funny, sweet, mysterious. It doesn't take long until you're falling for him hard and fast. But things take a turn after the death of someone close to you. Strange events keep happening around you, leaving you in a whirlwind of confusion. Desperate for a sense of normalcy, you rely heavily on Leon. He plays his part well, always being there for you, always being your safe space. There's only one problem, unbeknownst to you, his obsession towards you is growing and as it does, so too does the measures he'll take to watch over you, and more importantly make you his.

Pairing: Yandere!Leon x Fem!Reader

Tags: NSFW, Dead Dove, Dubcon, Kidnapping, Stalking, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Pet Names, violence, gore, MDNI, masturbation, murder, slow burn.

Read on AO3 || Ask Box Open || Masterlist

You had lived in this apartment since the day you moved out of your parent’s house. It was small, only a single bedroom located in a rougher part of the city. While the appliances hadn’t been updated since the 90’s and the place looked like a disaster, you did your best to make the beat down apartment your own. A few fresh coats of paint on the yellowed walls and some throw rugs to cover the stained and now flattened shag rug and boom — not too shabby. 

It was home. 

Living in such a rundown building meant that the turnover rate for neighbors was quite high, people always coming and going. None really caught your attention except for the few long-term tenants that seemed to have no intention of leaving. So of course when a new person moved in on the other side of Mrs. Wilson, the sweet elderly woman who shared the apartment next door, you paid no mind. 

In fact, it wasn’t until several weeks later that you had even seen who the new neighbor was. Returning from work, you watched Tina, the girl from 202 painfully trying to hit on – what you could only describe as – an absolute tank of a man. 

Sandy blonde hair was slicked back out of his face revealing a handsome mesh of chiseled and soft features. He had clearly been accosted on his way back from exercising, clad in black basketball shorts and a sweat-soaked gray t-shirt, sleeves straining against his massive biceps. His earbuds were tossed over his shoulder as he talked to the girl, music still playing quietly through them. Turning to the wall of shared mailboxes, you tried your best to not stare or eavesdrop, but damn was it hard. As you opened the small metal door, you couldn’t keep your eyes from darting back to him. 

‘I thought guys like him only existed in magazines.’ You thought to yourself, collecting the mail – even taking an extra moment to slowly sort through it where you were, buying more time to be nosy. It was obvious he was not into her at all. 

“Soooo Leon..” Tina said awkwardly, twirling her finger through her choppy red hair, the metal bracelets on her wrist clanging together with each movement, bubble gum gnashing between her pearly whites.  “You listen to music while you work out?” “Uhh…yeah, sometimes.” He said almost flatly, scratching a spot on his slightly cleft chin. 

“Oh that’s cool. What uh, what do you usually listen to?” She bit her red coated lip, and batted her lashes, it didn’t seem to garner any additional interest from the man.  

“Rock music, I guess.” Another flat response, his jaw clenching ever so slightly before he resumed his neutral look. 

“I like rock music. Uh…” You watched as she fumbled to try to come up with anything else to add, tapping her heeled boot against the floor. 

“Look, it was real nice talking to you, but I have to go.” He said flashing a small smile before popping his earbuds back in and running up the stairs, not giving the girl a chance to respond.

‘Ouch, that was awkward. But damn even his voice is attractive.’ Stopping yourself from giggling, you collected the few pieces of non junk mail and made your way back to your apartment. There was the smallest amount of guilt bouncing at the back of your mind, knowing you shouldn’t be ogling men like that while having a boyfriend. ‘It’s not like I did anything. I didn’t even speak to the guy.’ 

About a week after that, you had your first real run-in with Leon. Heading out to work you saw Mrs. Wilson’s door ajar — definitely unusual as she didn’t tend to get many visitors besides yourself. Concerned for her, you poked your head through the opening. The familiar smell of mint and warm bread hit your senses, but you didn’t hear a thing. 

Sliding inside you quietly poked around as you made your way to the back of the apartment, keeping an eye out in case anything nefarious was afoot. Much to your relief, the hall opened up into the living room at the back where you saw Mrs. Wilson. Next to her was another figure you hadn’t expected. 

Leon was standing with one arm above his head, unscrewing the blackened lightbulb from the socket before replacing it with the fresh one he had in his other hand. Workout attire replaced with a pair of worn blue jeans and a long sleeve black shirt. “Oh thank you.” Mrs. Wilson said with her signature wrinkly smile. “You’re so kind to do this for me. I hate having to bug the sweet girl next door all the time, but you know the lights in this place tend to blow every time there’s a storm and I can’t get up on the chairs like I used to.” “No worries ma’am.” He said with a far brighter smile than he’d worn during his interaction with Tina. His hair was no longer slicked back either, instead it framed his face, soft and fluffy, accentuating his cheekbones. You couldn’t help but notice the tiny gap his shirt left while his arm was raised, just the smallest peek of a dusty blonde happy trail and the faintest hint of hard muscle. “Looks like you have a visitor.” 

Leon turned his attention to you with a small nod before he flipped the switch on the wall to test the new light. It lit up, further illuminating the area with a soft yellow glow. “S-sorry.” You snapped out of it, raising your eyes to meet his. “I saw the door was open and I just wanted to make sure Grams was okay.”

“You’re always such a Darling.” The elderly woman said with a toothless grin aimed in your direction. There was a homeliness about the old woman that made you feel warm.  “Mr. Kennedy here is such a sweet boy. Have you met him yet? He moved in next door a while ago and offered to help me with a few things.” “I told you Mrs. Wilson, call me Leon.” He said as he tossed the broken lightbulb into the small pink trash can by the kitchen counter. “And I don’t believe we have met. Nice to meet you. The name’s Leon, well I guess you already knew that. Leon Kennedy.” He added his last name, reaching out a hand to you. 

“Nice to meet you too Leon. I’m glad to hear Grams has someone else to help take care of her. I live next door, in 306.” You couldn’t lie, your heart melted a little. ‘Handsome and kind? This guy must be a unicorn.’ You whisked the thought away again, the picture of your own boyfriend flashing behind your eyes again. 

The vintage clock hung against the floral wallpaper cuckoo’d and chimed, indicating the top of the hour. “Oh shit—“

“Language!” Mrs. Wilson chimed. “You know it’s unbecoming of a lady to—“

“I meant, shoot. Sorry Grams. I’m just running late for work.” You wrapped an arm around her in a quick side hug. “Sorry to cut this short, but I have to run.” Waving to Leon, you made a beeline for the door. 

“Well Ms. 306, I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” He shouted after you. 

“You too Mr. 302!” 

Ever since, Leon became a regular in your routine. Short conversations in the hallway that always left you with butterflies swirling in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t help the way your muscles in your face stretched into a permanent grin that you couldn’t stave off for the life in you. How a man managed to be so stoic and corny at the same time you’d never know. 

You ran errands for Mrs. Wilson together too, taking his Jeep out into the city. He would leave the top down and take the long way. Your hair would whip your face as you both sang along — poorly — to some dad rock mixtape Leon had. It seemed so fitting that he’d have an out of date tape player in his car, something so indescribably Leon. 

He really seemed like a great guy and you were enamored to say the least — though you tried desperately not to be. ‘It’s just a harmless crush.’ You told yourself. ‘He’s not into you anyway. Leon’s just a nice guy, worlds out of your league.’ 

~~~~~

Cool air bit at your cheeks and nose while you leaned against the brick wall of the building. Derek was abysmally late, you had the feeling he was upset at you for some reason but unable to fathom why. Hoping that it wasn’t the reason for his current absence, you checked your phone again.

Still nothing. A sigh escaped your lips as you readjusted your jacket.

“Everything alright?” The voice was immediately recognizable and your face lit up into a smile before you even looked over at him. 

“Hey Leon. Yeah everything’s fine, I’m just waiting on Derek.” You couldn’t be certain but you swore there was the slightest change in his expression, facial muscles contracting tightly before settling back into the lax warm look you were used to. “Oh. You know it’s not nice to keep a lady waiting.” Leaning against the wall next to you, he tilted his back to look up at the sky. He was wearing his brown bomber jacket that you found so attractive on him. A small part of you wondered how it would feel to wear it yourself, if it would smell like him. The other part of you was curious how a guy could afford such a nice brand name jacket, but lived in a place like this. 

“Yeah well… I think he’s mad at me actually.” You moved some dirt back and forth with your foot. “Why’s that?” A thick blonde brow was raised with interest as he tilted his head to look down at you. The dull light of the street lamp lit up half his face, casting hard shadows on the other, it accentuated each of his features in a way that made you never want to stop looking. 

“Wish I knew.” A dry laugh escaped your lips. As the wind picked up again, dust kicked up from the ground, blowing towards you along with some plant debris. You covered your face with the oversized jacket sleeve for a moment to protect your face. 

You heard Leon chuckle. “Looks like you picked up a straggler.” He brought his hand up to your head, just above your ear and gently removed a small weed stem that had made its home in your hair. 

“Thank you, I would’ve looked silly walking around like that.” 

He lingered close to you for a moment, flicking the stem away before he brought his hand back to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Mhm, can’t have that.” 

The moment felt intimate, and your heart beat out of time for a moment. You wanted to return the gesture, to say something, to do anything, but your brain was frazzled for a moment by the electric feel of his touch. 

“Ahem.” Your head snapped in the other direction to see your boyfriend standing there leaning against his car, not having heard him drive by or even exit the vehicle. 

“Have a good night Leon.” Quickly, you jerked away from his touch and ran over to your boyfriend, who had already started walking around to get back in the driver’s side of his car. Slipping into the passenger seat, you tried to lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek, but he turned his head enough to dodge it. Shrinking back, you buckled up and rested your head against the window, looking out as the city blurred past. ‘Guess he is mad at me.’

You attempted to fumble through some radio stations, but Derek made it clear he didn’t appreciate it, reaching over and turning it off entirely after the third one. The forty minute ride felt like hours as the rest passed by in total silence. 

His mood didn’t seem to improve at the movie theater either. Each little gesture of affection you attempted was immediately spurned. Every part of him radiated with negativity — and the thought of dinner afterwards made your stomach churn. A movie was a distraction and there was no requirement to talk, but sitting across from someone dead silent, that would be harder to deal with. The uncomfortableness of the situation caused your focus to drift again, only tuning in when a jumpscare appeared – unfortunately he left you to reel in your chair alone during those parts too. The movie ended, indicated by the overhead lights that suddenly appeared and the credits rolling on the screen.  Derek was halfway out the door before you even finished grabbing your bag. 

You had to run after him across the tacky carpeted floor of the theater and out intl the parking lot. “Why are you acting like this?” You pleaded, grabbing his hand before he could reach the car. 

“Acting like what?” He asked coldly. 

“Like this.” You gestured broadly towards him. “You’ve been cold to me the whole evening. Well actually more than just this evening.” 

“Really? I honestly didn’t think you’d notice.”  

“What does that even mean?” 

“You know exactly what it means!” He finally shouted. He brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep breath trying to calm himself. Of course the two of you had fought before, but he’d never acted like this. It didn’t help that you had no idea what he was even talking about. “You’ve been pulling away from me for weeks now. You’ve been distant, canceling plans to ‘run errands’. When we are together all you ever do is talk about that stupid neighbor of yours — and then tonight, I catch him nearly eye fucking you right out in the open. You certainly didn’t seem to be bothered by it.” 

“Derek….that’s not true. I — Leon’s just a friend, my neighbor I swear.”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

“What?”

“Are. You. Sleeping. With. Him?” He brought his eyes back up to meet yours, the look of hurt on his face made your stomach twist and heart ache. 

“No! What? No, I wouldn't do that to you.” You assured, stepping towards him. “Come on, please don’t be like this. I’m sorry if it seems that way, I don’t realize I’m talking about him so much. I’d never —“

“Save it.” He said, pushing you away from him again. “I don’t believe you. I don’t even know why I came out here tonight.” 

“Der—“

“I said save it!” He snapped. 

“This isn’t fair!” You shouted in return. “Why drag me out here on this whole date if you were this upset? You could’ve brought it up this whole time”

“I did. I told you over a week ago I was sick of hearing about him. I asked you to stop seeing so much of him, you told me no.”

“Leon’s a friend, I’m not going to ruin my friendship with him because you’re being psycho and jealous.”

“I’m a psycho because I don’t like that my own girlfriend spends all her time with some guy that looks like he stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad? How about the fact you don’t even seem to care that I’m hurt I thought I’d have been more important — you know what? Forget this. Forget it.” He turned to walk around to the driver’s side of the car. “I’m over this. You want him? Have him. I’m not chasing you. I thought you were my future wife, I thought we’d have the picket fence, kids, all of it. But now I get how you feel about everything.”

He slammed the car door shut, started the engine, and began backing out of the spot. You banged on the window to get his attention. “What are you doing? You’re seriously just going to leave me here?”

“Call your boyfriend to come get you.” He sneered through the window before blasting off and out of the parking lot.

You were stunned, unable to move as you watched the car disappear. ‘He can’t be serious right now? He’ll be back right?’ Pulling your phone out of your pocket you checked the time, 10pm. Wanting to hide your shame from the few people staring at you, and deciding he just needed a little while to cool down, you sat on the sidewalk in front of the theater, hidden by a bush that extended out. 

15 minutes passed. Nothing. 

Dialing the familiar number it rang a few times before going to voicemail. You tried again, this time it went straight to voicemail. 

10 more minutes passed and you tried to text him.

20 more minutes, still no response or call back. 

The wind was picking up again, making it chilly even under your jacket, which you’d brought down over your knees to try and keep in more warmth. This part of the city you weren’t familiar with, and weren’t sure it was worth the risk of trying to walk home. Given the situation, calling Leon was the last thing you wanted to do, especially since he was probably asleep by now — not that it was his job to really come save you anyway. 

Opening the Uber app on your phone, you put in the respective addresses. “$30? Not including a tip? Fuck.” You bit your lip in frustration. Technically you had enough, but it was the last of what was left in your account after bills.

Tapping your fingers along the cement, you shivered as a particular gust of wind leaked air into your jacket from the opening underneath. ‘Even if I did call Leon and he wasn’t mad I woke him up, that’s still a drive away. An Uber would be faster…but I do need groceries to sustain life.’

“This sucks.” You said out loud to yourself, burying your face into your knees, you had no clue what you were going to do and were running out of time to decide. By this time, the parking lot had emptied entirely, theater closing for the night. ‘Fuck it. I’ll just call and if he doesn’t answer I’ll order the stupid Uber.’ 

Opening his contact, the picture of him you’d taken at the park came up. Blonde hair pushed back and messy, one sea blue eye opened staring at your phone’s camera while the other was closed in a wink. You’d even convinced him to throw up a peace sign – it was so silly and so very Leon. Sighing, you began the call, letting the phone ring.

As it rang over and over again, you could swear you heard a familiar tune in the distance. It was very quiet, like someone was playing the radio several blocks over, but it tickled your ears all the same. You ended the call the moment it went to his voicemail, as you did you swore the song had ended too. ‘Weird, I must be hallucinating. Wouldn’t that just be the cherry on top, abandoned and crazy.’ You let out a dry laugh at the thought. 

Luckily after a moment, the phone buzzed in your hand, heart fluttering a little when you saw his name pop up on your screen. “Hey.” You said softly. 

“Hey there.” He replied, his voice sounding groggy. 

“Sorry to uhm….sorry if I woke you up.”

“S’not a problem. Everything ok?” 

“Well I uh….” 

“What’s wrong?” His voice sounding more alert now, you heard some shifting on the other end of the line. 

“Derek kind of ditched me at the theater. I’m a little stranded —“

“Need me to come get you?” 

“If you don’t mind. But if you’re asleep —“

“No, it's fine. I’d rather make sure you’re okay anyway. Where are you at?”

“The theater up by main, across from the big shopping center.”

“I’ll be there in 15, ok?”

“15, are you sure?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be? This a test?” There was a small chortle from his end. “Well it’s just that the apartment is nearly 40 minutes away? I hope you’re not planning on driving like a maniac.” There was a long moment of silence on the other end, so long it began to make you feel anxious. “Hey Leon, you still there?” 

It was still another few seconds before his voice could be heard again. “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry about that. I actually crashed at a friend's house after you left, so I’m nearby.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

The wait for him to show up felt like an eternity, you watched each and every minute tick by on your phone, both giddy and nervous with anticipation. When his Jeep came to a stop in front of you, you bolted up with a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He replied with the same grin he always greeted you with. His hair was a little messy and he looked tired, making the guilt bubble up in your stomach more. “So….you gonna get in or?” 

“Oh yeah.” Letting out a nervous laugh, you ran around to the passenger seat before hopping in. He had the heater on, not that it was doing much with the open top, but you appreciated every time the warmth hit your legs. 

“So what exactly happened? If you don’t mind me asking.” He leaned back more comfortably in his seat, driving with one hand as the other rested on the door.

“We just got into a fight….” You fidgeted with your phone as you gave him a glance in return. “He seems to think I’ve been cheating on him…or at least that I like someone else. I tried to tell him it wasn’t true, but you know…

“So he abandoned you? Just like that?” He asked bewildered. 

“Yeah I guess he did…” 

“That’s pretty shitty of him. I mean what if something happened to you?”

“Yeah it was… I don’t know…” You trailed off, not wanting to talk about it further, just dredging up those bad feelings. Instead, you opted to change the subject entirely. “Hey you know what’s weird?”

“No, what?”

“That one Nickelback song you like so much…you play it almost every time we’re in the Jeep together.”

“Oh, Far Away? Sure, what about it?”

“Well…as I was calling you, I swore I heard it. Was so weird, like a scene from a movie or something — maybe it was a sign that you’d come get me. Or I had a psychotic break and imagined the whole thing. Could be either one.”

“Yeah?” He asked with a chuckle. “I don’t know about the universe, but I am always here if you need me – even if you’ve lost your mind.” He tilted his head and gave a nonchalant shrug.

“Thanks Lee…” The rest of the ride home went smoothly — things falling back into place like they always did. Blasting music obnoxiously loud for the hour, singing along. He even stopped to get you milkshakes on the way back, despite your insistence that you were fine. In his defense, the logic of ‘no one can be upset with a milkshake’ made a lot of sense. 

As the vehicle rolled in front of the building, he leaned over, swiping his thumb across the side of your mouth. “Had something there.” His tongue darted out, lapping the sticky white substance off of the digit.

“Oh.” The simple touch had that electric feeling sparking throughout your veins again. “Thank you….and thanks again for the ride.”

“No problem.” 

Not knowing what else to say, you nodded and scurried from the vehicle back inside the building. He didn’t follow immediately behind you, having to properly park, which left you relieved. 

The entire evening was a whirlwind of emotions and that last little interaction had your entire brain scrambling inside your skull. All you wanted was for the night to be over with, forgotten as you drifted to unconsciousness. 

You took a quick shower before changing into your pajamas and all but flopping into the comfortable fortress of your bed. 

Curling up into the soft bedding, you expected sleep to come over you quickly — but you were wrong. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could picture was that pink tongue darting out to lap up the milkshake from his thumb. His smile, his eyes on you. It made you shudder and clamp your legs together, heat rushing between them. You squirmed around tossing and turning, trying to get your mind to relax and to stave off the arousal that was hindering your sleep.

Nothing you did was working, finally deciding to just give in, sinking your hand down between your legs. ‘Just so I can sleep…’ 

Hand tracing gently along your slit through your panties, you spread your legs farther to give yourself more access. Closing your eyes you could vividly see his face between your legs, tongue out lapping at your panties the way he’d done to the ice cream. 

A soft moan escaped your lips as you applied more pressure, rubbing the slick soaked fabric against your aching bud of pleasure. “Mmm Leon…” The comforter was slowly becoming suffocating, too hot. You tossed it off of yourself to the other side of the mattress, letting yourself feel the cool air as it rushed against your skin – nipples sensitive to the temperature change. 

You brought your left hand up under the silken sleep shirt, circling one hard bud with a finger before pinching it lightly. The fingers of your right hand teasingly walked themselves up to the hem of the fabric, dipping inside the band to properly travel down. Air escaped your mouth once direct contact was made to your throbbing clit. “Leon…so good…” 

In your little vision the man had moved to hook your legs over his shoulders to gain a better angle - the real you bucking your hips up against your fingers, desperate to add to the vision. “So good to me Lee….always so good to me….fuck…” 

Your fingers slid up and down against yourself, left hand abandoning your breast to travel it’s way downward as well, two fingers slipping themselves within your soaking hole – desperately needing to clench around more than the nothingness you were left with. “So close….gonna…” The words caught in your throat as the pressure finally released itself, tingling warmth spreading from your core throughout your body. It was quick and rough, far from the best you’d ever had but it was exactly what you needed. 

The illusion finally cracked and you were left with sore arms, staring up at the ceiling – momentarily sated and relieved, again hoping sleep would take you quickly. 

A/N: If this looks familiar, it's a total rewrite/reboot of my yandere!leon series. This original series was inspired by @explorevenus' Something Permanent series. Other inspirations include @gigabyte-flare, @lipglossanon, and @girldungeon's works. Special shoutout to @elfven-blog and her superior pinterest skills for the aesthetic pics used in the banner.

Next Chapter

[heartfeltcierra]

Reacting to you making/giving them a friendship bracelet. (Ace, Roger, Marco, Shanks, and Doflamingo)

AN- Here lately I've been making friendship bracelets and thought this would be a fun idea! I hope you enjoy and let me know if you'd like to see a part two with more characters! (Find part 2 with Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Bart, Sabo and Law here)

Characters- Ace, Roger, Marco, Shanks, and Doflamingo.

Warnings/Content-Fluffy, Minor mentions of violence/blood, Very Suggestive/NSFW themes in Doffy and Shanks's part.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡ More under the cut

Ace

🔥Ace would in utter shock, saying something like “You really made this for me???” 🥺

🔥After you confirm it is, be prepared to be pulled into the biggest most heartfelt hug you’ll ever experience in your life (He couldn't help it, he was just so happy :) 

🔥As we all know Ace can be pretty crafty, so I feel he would learn how to make them so he could give you one too!

 “Y/N! Y/N!” Ace came running up to you with his signature wide smile painted on his face.

 “Hey Ace.” You return the smile as he catches his breath. "What's up?"

 “Close your eyes and hold your hand out!” You do as Ace asked and feel something slip over your wrist. “And open!” You look down and see Ace had made you a bracelet. “And the best part.” He held his wrist up next to yours, showing off the bracelets you'd made for each other. “We match now!” 

 Totally didn’t take him 100 different times to make it because he kept accidentally setting the twine on fire. With that being said, the poor Moby Dick almost caught on fire 100 different times.

 (Thank you Marco for making sure that didn’t happen.)

🍍- You're welcome, yoi.

Roger (SFW)

🗡️-The king of the pirates absolutely lost his mind when you gave him the bracelet  

🗡️-Thinks of it as a good luck charm (he would do something corny like kissing it before going into a fight) 

🗡️-Shows it off to everyone and I mean everyone (especially enemies)

“Look at what my sweet Y/N made for me.” Roger held his wrist out to the confused pirate laying half dead at his feet.   

“Who cares, It’s just a stupid bracelet.” Stupid???? The bracelet that you worked so hard on?

 “Aww he didn’t mean that.” Roger cooes at the bracelet, causing the now even confused man below to quirk his bloody brow. 

 “Are you insane? It’s just a-“ 

 “DIVINE DEPARTURE!”

  (“Oh wow what a lovely bracelet!”-- Literally everyone who witnessed the scene above.)

♬~Smart ways to live~ ♬ ~So many smart ways to live~♬

 Marco (SFW)

🍍 When you gave Marco the bracelet you didn’t get much of a reaction because he was super busy doing paperwork

🍍 He’d pull you down for a quick kiss before saying “I love it.” without even looking at it

🍍 But he didn’t have to look at it to know he loved it, it already met the requirements because you made it. 

 “Wake up sleepy head, I need you to sign off on this.” Thatch threw a report on Marco’s desk, rudely waking up the blonde up from his much needed nap. “Nice bracelet by the way.” Marco raised a brow hearing the man holding back laughs. 

 “Yeah it is nice because Y/N made it for me.” Marco held his wrist up with a smirk, attempting to make the other man jealous.

  “Oh I know~” Thatch could no longer control his laughter as he pointed at the bracelet. “It’s pretty obvious she did.” 

 “Huh?“ Marco grabbed his glasses and took a closer look to see what had the chef doubled over in tears. “Are you serious?” His hand slams over his face after seeing what the beads on the bracelet spelled out. “I swear that girl is going to send me to an early grave.” He stood up and shoved the now signed paper into his friend's chest. “You tell no one about this." Marco glared daggers at the laughing man. "Thatch.."

  “Oh don't worry, I won’t .” Thatch smiled innocently while slowly making his escape. “Y/N’s babygirl.” 

"THATCH!"

 (Needless to say the entire Whitebeard crew knew within five minutes.)

 Shanks (NSFW)

 ❤️ He loves anything you give him, and I mean anyyything

 ❤️ You could give him a single grain of sand and he would go show it off to the whole world

 ❤️ So when you came up to him holding a bracelet that you had hand made, he was over the moon smitten.

 “Shanks hold your hand out?”

 “Which one?” 

 …..

 …..

 “That was funny and you know it was!” You roll your eyes as the red haired man starts laughing at his own joke.

 “Just hold your one and only hand out for me please and thank you.” He's all smiles as you roll on the bracelet before adjusting it to fit snug against his wrist.

 “Aww you really made this for me?” His grin grows wider while taking a closer look at it. “Um, sweetheart this is real thoughtful and all, but does it really have to say #1 DILF?” He looks up at you with a raised brow.

 “Yes it does.” You hold out your hand to show off the bracelet wrapped around your wrist. “Otherwise we won’t match.” 

 “DILF destroyer huh?” Shanks smirks. “I’m curious to see just what kind of “destroying” you can do when I have you whimpering under me.”

 (You literally cannot win with this man.)

Doffy (NSFW)

🦩He looks down on the bracelet on his wrist with a rather displeased expression 

🦩In all honesty he found it quite adorable that you put time and effort into making something for him

🦩But it’s what you called it that has him unamused

 

 “What did you just call this thing?”

  “It’s a friendship bracelet…”

  “How ridiculous.” 

 “You don't like it?..” Doffy notices the dejected look on your face and with a flick of his wrist, pulls you into his lap.

   “Don’t get me wrong my sweet girl, I do appreciate it. But..” A wicked smirk forms on his face while large hands trail down your curves, slowly making their way under your skirt. “I’d say me and you are…. a little more than ‘friends’~, wouldn’t you agree?”

 (The same bracelet decorated hand found its way around your throat as he proved his point to you.)

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Failed proposal

Azriel x f!Reader

Masterlist.

Summary; Azriel finally gathers the courage to propose, but what happens when the ring gets mixed with the earrings Cassian got for Nesta?

I was inspired by the movie "something from Tiffany's"

Warnings; a bit of angst and swearing. Mentions of violence.

Winter solstice was coming and everyone was rushing around trying to find the perfect gift for their loved ones. You, Feyre, and Nesta had already shopped for gifts and hid them around the house so the males wouldn’t find them. They were way too impatient and you knew that the moment they would spot a present they would open it to see what it is. Even your mate Azriel who seemed strict and a sucker for rules would cave. 

You and Azriel met 50 years ago and the bond snapped instantly, you spent the next years going out on dates and taking things slow and about 20 years ago you moved in the house of wind and accepted the bond. You didn’t have a ceremony so you recently discussed about getting married, he seemed nervous and wrapped the conversation quite abruptly making you wonder if he really wanted this. You couldn’t understand what was holding him back, you had accepted the bond so getting married was actually something meant to happen. Your insecurities resurfaced and the jealousy consumed you as you thought about the time he spent with Elain in order to help her adjust, but after overhearing that he had a big plan for this winter solstice, you decided to wait until then to confront him. The girls were all convinced that he will give you the ring you yearned for and you couldn’t hide your excitement.

Azriel 

“I don’t know Rhys… none of the rings feels right” Azriel said as they walked around in the store.  

“What about this one?” Rhys exclaimed and held a ring in Azriel’s face. The shadowsinger took a step back and examined the ring, it was indeed a beautiful gold ring with a blue marquise cut stone the same shade as his siphons. Azriel took the ring from Rhysand’s hand and moved it to the light, it was just as shiny as your eyes, he thought and smiled. 

“Okay I’ll take this” he informed the salesman and followed him to the register. After the ring was packed he took the bag and hurried off hoping to get home before you so he could hide it.

He entered the library and removed one stone from the wall leaving the present inside and placing the stone back into place. He was in such a hurry that he didn’t notice the same bag that Cassian had hidden there too.

Winter solstice.

Azriel’s behavior was completely odd the past days and this morning he jumped off the bed like you burned him. You were really confused but also excited because these were telltale signs of an upcoming proposal -or at least that’s what the girls had been telling you.

The night came rather quickly and you all gathered in the main room of the house of wind with all the presents. 

Feyre gave Rhysand a painting of Nyx and him flying around, then she gave Cassian a book about war strategies. For Nesta she had bought a book series and for Elain some gardening supplies. Then she moved to Azriel for whom she got a new dagger, and finally you… you opened the velvet box and gasped, she got you the necklace you had been checking out for months. You hugged her and then it was Rhysand’s turn, he bought Feyre an art gallery and jewellery and weapons for the rest of you. 

Azriel’s turn came, and he gave Feyre a sketchbook, then gave Rhysand a new pair of Illyrian leathers, and a new sword to Cassian. He had bought Nesta a book and then he moved to Elain, you almost growled when she gasped and held a bracelet with a pink rose charm. Then it was your turn, he looked nervous as he grabbed the last bag and gave it to you. 

At the same time Cassian pushed a similar bag in Nesta’s hands whispering “I can’t wait anymore open it please” 

You opened the bag and saw a small velvet box, your heart stopped and you glanced at Azriel. It’s happening. You thought and opened the box with a huge smile on your face.

“Oh Az… uhm thank you” your smile fluttered.

He furrowed his eyebrows and asked “what?” 

“I love them” you smiled and showed him the box, a pair of earrings was inside and he frowned. 

Nesta squealed and jumped on her feet 

“Yes yes yes a million times yes” she screamed and hugged a very confused Cassian. 

Your eyes watered as you stared at them.

Cassian gulped as he saw the ring. He was sweating but seeing Nesta’s reaction he smiled and placed it on her finger. You couldn’t take it anymore so you congratulated them and excused yourself. Azriel was speechless… he glared at Cassian and hurried off to find you. 

You were in your shared room, sitting on the bed and crying. Azriel felt a pang in his chest but he couldn’t tell you, he didn’t want to do this without the ring. Rage filled him and he thought about all the ways he would beat Cassian. 

“What’s wrong angel?” He asked and sat next to you. 

“Do you even love me anymore?” You asked him, your voice breaking. 

“Of course, more than anything… where is this coming from?” 

You just shrugged and laid back. You didn’t mind that he didn’t propose as much as the fact that he gave Elain something that reminded of her while he gave to you a pair of simple earrings…and he knew that you didn’t even wear earrings. 

He opened his mouth to speak again but quickly shut it as you turned your back on him and tried to sleep. 

Azriel was confused because he didn’t feel any disappointment down the bond, just jealousy. He thought about it and then it hit him…he gave Elain -with whom you had a problem- a thoughtful gift while he gave you something that you didn’t even use. He felt even worse and with a groan he fell back and stared at the ceiling.

The morning came and you woke up alone in bed…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Why didn’t you tell her?” Rhysand exclaimed.

“Because I don’t want to ruin this too.” Azriel sighed. “I met her a few days before you were trapped under the mountain so our first years as mates were not easy, then she moved to the house of wind where everyone was mourning you and we didn’t even have a ceremony for accepting the bond, she just brought a piece of apple pie in our room and offered it to me…. The next days I was busy helping Mor, Cassian and Amren rule Velaris and  we didn’t even celebrate our bond. I can’t let anything destroy the proposal too.” 

Cassian walked into Rhysand’s office and Azriel immediately pounced on him.

“You fucking idiot” -punch

“Why didn’t you say something?” -punch 

“You fucking stole my ring” -punch 

“You stole my moment" -punch, punch 

The warlord was accepting the punishment knowing that he messed up, only when the high lord pulled Azriel back he dared to speak. 

“I’m so sorry brother… I was shocked I didn’t know what to do…and Nesta was so excited… I couldn’t find it in my heart to destroy the moment” he avoided Azriel’s gaze, the shame consuming him. 

“I. Want. My. Ring. Back.” The shadowsinger growled, pausing between each word. 

“Okay…” Cassian mumbled and left. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You were sitting in your room staring out the window… you wondered if Elain came here sooner would Azriel still want you to accept the mating bond? You doubted that and pain filled your heart. 

A knock on the door pulled you out of your thoughts and Nesta walked in.

“Heyyyy, I was wondering if you would like to come with me to the store where Cassian got me the ring, I want to ask them how to maintain it clean” she said and stretched her hand out staring at the ring.

“Sure” you shrugged and got up. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Feyre came and winnowed the three of you to the store, you walked in gaping at all the jewels there… the store was really expensive. 

“Hello, I recently got engaged and I wanted to ask how to clean this” Nesta asked the salesman and showed him the ring.

“Ooh yeah, you must be y/n” he smiled, you glanced up but he wasn’t looking at you, he was talking to Nesta. 

“The shadowsinger was so excited when he found this ring, he kept saying how shiny it was  just like your eyes” he continued and Nesta gulped. You were staring wide-eyed, your jaw almost touched the floor but thankfully Feyre pushed it back in place. 

“Azriel bought this?” Feyre asked. 

“Yes my lady, your husband was here too, he was helping the shadowsinger choose.” 

“What about Cassian?” Nesta asked and the salesman gave her a questioning look. 

“The warlord, the general of the armies… the brute with the red siphons” she explained and you and Feyre snorted at the last remark. 

“Oh yes. He was here first he got a beautiful set of earrings” 

And then it hit you, somehow the two idiots mixed their presents. Nesta growled and turned around marching out.

“Thank you” Feyre smiled and pulled you out.

 Nesta was pacing…

“Y/n I’m so sorry” she said when she saw you. 

“It’s okay Ness” you smiled.

“Why didn’t the idiot say something? Oh he is sleeping outside today” she growled.

“I think he just didn’t want to ruin the moment, you were really excited” your voice was soft as you spoke.

“Yeah but we ruined your moment” she pushed 

“It’s okay I’m used to it” you shrugged with a sad smile. 

She gave you the ring.

“I think this belongs to you” 

You placed it on your finger and stared.

“The stone is the same color as Azriel’s siphons” Feyre noted.

“Yeah I was confused about that too” Nesta shrugged. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Dinner was served and you and the girls walked inside the dining room taking your usual seats. Azriel glanced at you with a worried look and Cassian whispered something to Nesta… she shook her head and smirked.

The room buzzed with conversation and everything felt normal again, you reached for the wine bottle in front of Azriel, the ring on display. Azriel was taking a sip from his wine and the moment his eyes fell on the ring he choked, spraying the wine all over the table making everyone stop and look at you. 

You giggled while Nesta and Feyre smiled.

“Where… how…when?” Azriel was blurting out questions. 

“We went to the shop today and the salesman called Nesta by my name so we figured” you shrugged and smiled. 

Cassian’s eyes widened and he pushed his chair back, he glanced at Nesta and with a quick “oh shit” he jumped up and ran away, Nesta following suit.

Azriel smiled softly and took your hand in his own, pressing a small kiss on the back of your palm. 

“I didn’t want this to happen like this…. We deserve one good moment” he whispered.

“Being in the dining room with all our family is a pretty good moment…” you smiled “and maybe we can lock Cassian in a cell on our wedding day” 

Azriel burst into laughter and pulled you in his arms. 

“I promise to give you the most amazing wedding day” he smiled and kissed you. 

Requests are open!

[loveharlow]

SEVEN - 002

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[6.5k] based on 1x02.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of parental neglect, mild violence, mentions of death/grief, disturbance of a graveyard (?)

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ I've been wanting to do an OBX rewrite for a very long time so here it is, the first chapter from yours truly.

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

“DO YOU REALLY THINK BIG JOHN COULD STILL BE ALIVE?” Kiara’s slightly digitally distorted voice came from the other end of the line. Your phone was pressed between your ear and shoulder as you searched the hangers in your closet, bath towel wrapped snug around your frame and your hair thrown up into a bun, which was presenting more like a mess of damp strands.

“It doesn’t matter what we think, Kie,” You made clear, eyeing a cute shirt you thought you’d lost. “We should just be there for him.”

“Yeah… but what if we’re just feeding into a fantasy? Wouldn’t that make us bad friends if we weren’t honest with him?” You could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the phone as well, dresser drawers slamming occasionally. 

“Maybe you’re right.” You sighed, throwing your outfit onto your bed and heading back into the closet to find a bikini to wear underneath. Living in the Outer Banks meant you had a plethora to choose from. “But the way I see it? If it were my dad that went missing, I’d be looking for him too. I’d give anything to even have that small hope that my dad was still alive back, but I know he isn’t… so, I understand.”

“I didn’t think about it like that…” It was sad to hear her so conflicted, as if she’d said the wrong thing.

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to. And I would never want you to be able to understand that feeling. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” You reassured, putting the girl on speaker to toss the phone on your bed and slipping the bikini you picked out onto your frame and tying the respective knots. “That’s why if John B thinks his dad is alive and wants to look for him? That’s what we’re gonna do. Because alive or not, John B is like a brother to me and leaving him to do this alone is what would make us bad friends.”

“I guess you’re right…are you still meeting up with the guys today?”

“Just J and John B for right now. Pope said he’d be around later after helping his pops.” You told her, slipping an oversized shirt over top of the bikini, eyeing your closet shelves for a pair of shorts.

“Alright, I might swing by if my parents aren’t up my ass about work.” She complained. “Talk to you later.”

“Later.” Was all you said before the end-call sound rang out in the expanse of your bedroom.

A swift series of knocks met your closed door from the other side, you shouted for them to come in, assuming it was either your mother or your dog Marley’s tail hitting the wood. The 2-year-old golden retriever had a knack for sitting outside your bedroom door on the rare occasion that it was closed and she wasn’t inside.

The knob twisted and in walked your mother, adorned in her signature navy blue pencil skirt and blazer, still a half hour to spare before she had to head off to her office for work. Rebecca Reyes was the Outer Banks’ most notable and renowned lawyer. Even when you still lived on The Cut all those months ago, she was still the island's number one defender. Moving to Figure Eight and getting rich, almost overnight, just gave her the resources she needed. You still questioned where all the money spawned from, chopping it down to your father’s life insurance coming through.

But the bank said that could take a while and you never assumed it was enough to buy a house on Figure Eight. But that’s adult stuff, you thought to yourself.

“You got home late yesterday,” She began bluntly, adjusting the diamond bracelet on her wrist. The smell of her expensive perfume already wafting into your space. “Where were you?”

“Just out with John B and the others.” You said with a shrug, walking out the closet with a pair of sneakers in your hands as you undid the tied laces.

She hummed, eyeing the space around you as if she’d never seen it before. “Did you hear about the boat they’re searching for? Scooter Grubbs’ boat?”

You side eyed her quickly, not quick enough for her to catch however. “Yeah, the whole island is losing their minds over it.”

“You and your friends haven’t come across anything, have you?”

“...I doubt we’d have any luck coming across a Grady-White, mom. Especially after the hurricane. That boat could be oceans away for all we know.”

“Right.” She agreed, but she seemed far away. Off. Why’d she care about Scooter Grubbs’ boat? “And what’s this I hear about some kid with a gun at The Point?” Your heart dropped. 

“A gun?” You acted semi-shocked. “I don’t know, I wasn’t there.”

“Hm.” She droned. “Well, if you find anything don’t hesitate to tell me. Or Shoupe, for that matter. He said two out of towners showed up for the boat search yesterday, looked sketchy. So, be careful.”

You hummed in agreement, watching as the woman strutted out of the room without even a small ‘goodbye’. 

You and your mother were nowhere near as close as you used to be. Your father’s passing caused a rift between the two of you that seemed irreparable. You just felt like she had become so cold and closed off, nothing like the woman who used to bake every weekend or plan family nights in the backyard. She was more secretive, dismissive. You couldn’t even remember what her smile looked like. She’d changed so much. She used to hate Sheriff Shoupe, said he was a dirty cop who worked under the rich snobs of Figure Eight. Now, it’s like they’re business partners of some sort and she is a rich snob on Figure Eight. 

She even changed her last name back after your father died and wouldn’t tell you why. That was what made you feel the most alone. Rebecca Carter was now Rebecca Reyes but you were still Y/N Carter and your father would always be Owen Carter. 

It was like she was trying to erase him and everything they’d built together.

You hated to admit that sometimes you wondered what your father would think of the woman she’s become. If she would be as unrecognizable to him as she is to you.

YOU SAT IN THE BACK OF THE VAN, legs bent as your journal rested atop your thighs while you scribbled down your thoughts and recent events — namely the events of yesterday. You had one earbud in, your playlist on shuffle as you half-listened into JJ and John B’s conversation that was happening in the front seat, the bumpy ride making your handwriting a bit chicken scratch-ish.

“I don’t understand why you don’t at least try with Kiara,” JJ started, his heavy boots kicked up on the dashboard. “She clearly likes you. She’s like ‘Oh, John B!’. She’s sketchy about you diving and then she kissed you, bro.” The blonde continued. 

“She kissed me on the cheek. It’s not like we were makin’ out.” John B denied, brushing off the girl’s clear affections.

“Low-hanging fruit, bro.” JJ cut him off, the statement making you cringe in silence as you continued to scribble. “I see it in your eyes. You’re like ‘I kind of like that’.” JJ said in a mockingly low and seductive voice. 

“Okay, you want to talk about me?”

“Yeah, bro, I wanna talk about you and your lack of game.”

“My lack- my lack of game? Okay, what game do you have, JJ? ‘Cause I haven’t seen any improvement in your case.” JJ’s head whipped between you and the boy in the driver’s seat within milliseconds before he was swatting John B’s arm.

“C’mon, dude...” He warned in a hushed tone. John B just chuckled.

“That’s what I thought.”

Moments of silence passed before their voices were heard again. “I gotta admit, your dad’s compass in Scooter’s boat? Freaky, man…” JJ claimed, twirling the newfound object between his fingers.

“That’s why we’re going to talk to Ms. Lana and figure this whole thing out. She’s his wife, she has to know something.” John B told him. 

“And what makes you think she would want to talk to us?” You added, spooking the blonde boy in the passenger seat. 

“How long have you been listen-”

“I’m always listening.” You spoke bluntly, a blank expression on your face as you averted your attention from your journal to him. “Anyway,” you dismissed. “A group of teenagers showing up to ask her about her dead husband, the boat that the whole island is looking for, and the compass we found inside of said dead husband’s lost boat? She’ll either think we’re criminals, FBI, or crazy.”

“Well, this is our first resort.” John B replied, eyes looking at you through the rearview. “We gotta try.”

“KNOW WHAT THIS HOUSE LOOKS LIKE?” JJ said, leading the group of us to the front yard of Lana Grubbs’ residence. “Whoever lives here smokes too much weed.” He observed the small, shack-like house — the walls were overgrown with weeds, the yard looked like it’d never been cut, the place was a mess from the outside.

The three of you stopped, more like flinched, in your tracks when you heard glass-shattering from the inside of the house followed by crash after crash. It sounded like the outside of a rage-room or a gun range. 

“Maybe we should come back…” JJ advised, taking small steps back. But John B persisted, even as the two of you stood back in fear.

“No, no, shut up, JJ.” John B reprimanded absentmindedly. 

“Tell me where it is or I’ll fuck you up!” A deep, brassy voice boomed from the inside. The voice so authoritative it made you shudder, but it didn’t worry you as when a woman’s scream followed. You could only assume it was Ms. Lana. “I’ll sink you in the fucking-” A crash, louder than the rest, cut off the sentence, almost covering the sound of Ms. Lana’s blood-curling screech.

“You’re hurting me!”

John B beckoned JJ and you on with his hands, urging the both of you to move forward. Reluctantly, and after a weary glance at one another, you and JJ followed the brunette boy who was edging closer and closer to the side of the house. 

“Where the fuck is it?!”

“I don’t know!”

The three of you quickly dashed and ducked beneath the window seal on the only open window when you heard something hit the wall from the inside. You had just parted your lips to say that, just maybe, this was a bad idea. A terrible one, even, before a phrase yelled by the angry man inside had you shutting up.

“The compass wasn’t in the boat! Where is it, Lana?!”

“I don’t know!”

Your heart dropped as things continued to get thrown and slammed inside the house and you prayed those ‘things’ didn’t happen to be Lana. The paint and wood started to physically chip and fall off the walls outside, landing on top of the three of you crouched against the side of the house, wood particles falling into your eyes.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, man…” Another male voice commanded, followed by two pairs of heavy footsteps against the wooden floors inside. The three of you peeked around the corner to watch the two men disappear from the grounds through the front door, stomping angrily towards their boat. 

The same boat that had been shooting at you only 24 hours prior. 

“Those were the guys that shot at us.” JJ whisper-yelled. 

“Go back.” John B commanded, pushing you all back behind the safety of the wall so they wouldn’t see you all. Once the boat sped off, the three of you slowly tip-toed your way into the house. The sound of Lana’s cries getting louder and more heartbreaking the more you entered the house, shoes crunching on wood and glass. Photo frames and dishes all broken into smaller fractions and littered on the floor, holes in the walls, kitchen cabinets hanging on by a single hinge.

“Ms. Lana?” You called out, voice laced with concern, eyeing the broken windows before they found Ms. Lana’s curled up figure on the bathroom floor right below the sink that was hanging on by a singular pipe. “Oh my God.” You gasped, kneeling right next to the woman and laying a hand on her shoulder that caused her to flinch and shrink in on herself. 

She had tears running from her red, swollen eyes, curled up like someone’s child.

“She is tweakin’.”

“Shut up, JJ.” You hissed, shooting a mean glare at the insensitive blonde before turning your attention back to the feeble woman. “Do you need a doctor? We can call a doctor for you.” You assured, examining the multiple cuts adorning the woman’s face and arms.

“We can call the sheriff’s department-” John B was on the verge of suggesting before Lana cut him off frantically.

“No cops, please!”

“Mm, that’s not good. Let’s bounce.” JJ urged, weary of the woman’s persistence to avoid law enforcement. 

“You shouldn’t be here...” Lana cried, her eyes focused on John B, speaking as her lip quivered and her voice shook. 

The brunette’s face twisted, kneeling next to me to level his gaze with Ms. Lana’s. “Do you know those guys?”

“They were… looking for something.” Her voice wavered. 

“...Does it have anything to do with this?” John B asked her, pulling the compass from the back pocket of his board shorts. You and JJ shared a glance, both knowing John B probably shouldn’t have shown it to her. “This was my father’s and Scooter had it. Do you know why?”

Why did John B think showing a woman his father’s compass and saying he copped it from her dead husband was a good idea? You had no clue. Interrogation tactic? Impulsiveness? Stupidity? Lana’s eyes were wide and teary, she looked like she was seeing ghosts.

“Scooter didn’t have it, okay? Don’t tell anyone that you have that. They can’t know that you have that!”

Your lips pulled themselves into a thin line and you were starting to feel less bad for Lana and more suspicious of the distressed woman. Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as she appeared. She didn’t seem to be a threat but she clearly knew things that she shouldn’t. You nudged JB’s arm, whispering in his direction even though the woman could most likely still hear you. “We should go…”

“You’ve gotta get out of here!” Lana cried, fearful gaze eyeing the compass in John’s grasp.

“What do you know about the compass?” John B raised his voice over her frantic one, still questioning Lana as JJ pulled him back and the three of you stood to leave.

“Go! Get out!” Was the last thing you heard as the hysteric woman yelled at your retreating figures.

“SO, YOU SAW THE GUYS THAT SHOT AT US, RIGHT?” Pope asked with his head in his hands, stressed after listening to JJ’s dramatic rendition of events. The three of you had returned to The Chateau and summoned Kiara and Pope not too long after, the events of today on the tip of your tongue. “Did you get a good description of them? Anything we can bring to a police report?”

You shook your head along with JJ and John B as Kiara and Pope sighed at you all's lack of response. There was nothing special about these guys. Sure, they seemed out of place but that’s because nobody on the island knew them. That was one perk about living in Kildare, everyone knows everyone. But these weren’t leather jacket, ski-mask wearing criminals. They didn’t stick out like sore thumbs.

“That’s not very helpful…” Kiara huffed.

“But, but,” JJ started again. “They were burly. Like the men I’d see at my dad’s garage. You guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers...” He reminded you all carelessly. “I can tell you with full confidence that these guys? They’re square groupers.”

“Like Narcos square groupers?” Pope questioned with little amusement, his face dropping as he watched JJ smoke against the brick wall. 

“Like, Pablo Escobar square grouper?” You added on, just as skeptical from your seat on the patio floor, legs stretched in front of you and crossed over one another while you leaned on your elbows for support. JJ just nodded, blowing out smoke. 

“You guys, not everything is a kingpin movie.” Kie reprimanded from her place next to Pope on the patio furniture.

“Okay,” Pope started. “What does a square grouper look like? Hm? Because clearly, you don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Okay, you weren’t there! I wasn’t taking little mental polaroids the entire time, dude! I was under duress!” JJ whined to which you and John B rolled your eyes.

“Why would they want the compass?” Kiara probed, leaning forward in her seated position, resting her forearms on her thighs.

“That thing’s a piece of shit, you could pawn it off for five bucks if you wanted to… No offense, John B.” Pope claimed honestly, watching as John B flicked the object open and stared at it longingly, paying no mind to the boy’s insult.

“Well, clearly it’s worth something.” You popped in. “Considering these guys are willing to kill for it.”

“...The office.” You all turned to the scruffy brunette. A silent question on everyone’s face. “My dad’s office.” John B continued, shooting up and walking inside The Chateau as you all scurried to follow, shooting one another confused glances. “He always kept the office locked ‘cause he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research. Remember?” He directed at you and JJ, looking back but still walking forward. “We used to laugh at him like he was actually going to find it. But now that he’s…gone, I just left it as he kept it.” He said despondently.

“Yeah. For when he gets back.” Kie backed him up with a light-tipped smile. Keys jangled as John B unlocked the room you hadn’t seen in years. Not since before Big John went missing. Before all of this.

“I’ve slept over here like six-hundred times and I’ve never seen this door opened.” Pope said aloud, eyeing the office like a museum. 

This was like being hit by a tidal-wave for you. And you’re sure it was the same for John B. You can remember the countless nights you’d slept over before and after Big John went missing. Before he went missing and you, JB, and JJ would peek inside just to watch him just write and type like his life depended on it. It even brought back memories of when your dad would stay a while after dropping you off to spend the night just to share beers in the backyard with Big John. 

The nights after his disappearance weren’t as sweet though. Sleeping in a group hug around John B after his dad went missing. Then your friends all slept in a group hug around you after your dad went missing. Then they slept in another group hug around you when your dad’s body was found, washed up on the shore for the entire island to see. With the plethora of events, The Chateau became a haunted house in your mind.

“Look,” John B said, pulling you out of your stupor. He’d taken a bulletin board down off of the walls that was decorated with paper scraps and old pictures. His index finger pointed to the photo at the very top, a sepia-like tint to it. “This was the original owner of the compass.”

The paper pinned against the photo read ‘Robert Q. Routledge. 1880 - 1920’. 

“There’s the lucky compass right there.” Kiara showed you all, pointing to the object clutched in the old man’s hand in the picture. You wouldn’t exactly call the compass lucky, though. And if it was before, it surely isn’t now.

“Actually, um. He was shot after he bought it…” John B informed. “Then the compass was shipped back to Henry.” He continued guiding you all through the timeline, pointing to the next picture. “Henry was killed in a crop-dusting accident when he had the compass.” You happened to look up at the exact same time as Pope, the two of you locking eyes with visible worry. “After he died, the compass was given to Stephen. Stephen had it when he died in Vietnam.” The boy ranted. “After that, Stephen passed the compass down to my dad.” 

“This is painting a very bad picture, JB…” You warned, hand on the back of your neck as your face twisted.

“Yeah, he has a death compass.” Pope deadpanned.

“I do not.” John B denied, rolling his eyes and sitting down in the nearest chair with the compass still in hand. “My dad used to talk about this compartment here.” He explained, fiddling with the article between his fingers. “Soldiers used to hide secret notes.” He twisted the back of it off, revealing a word scratched into the top. He sat up with surprise as he spoke. “...This is my dad’s handwriting.” 

Pope scoffed. “How can you know that?”

“He’s right.” You assured the doubtful male absentmindedly, squinting your eyes and craning your neck down to see the word written into the metal. “Big John had horrific handwriting and his R’s always had a point to them. I always used to think they looked like big-headed baby chicks, in a way. That’s definitely his handwriting.”

“Weird observation…but she’s right.” John B backed you up, his eyes going back to the compass. “Redfield…” He muttered. “What’s Redfield? Is it a clue?”

“A clue? C’mon that’s-” Pope began until you shot him a nasty glare, silently telling him to be helpful and supportive or shut up. His eyes widened as he gulped. “If it is a clue, m-maybe it’s an anagram?”

“Yes!” John B jumped up from his seat, beckoning you all to back up some. “Anagram. Perfect. You need paper.” He directed at Pope, eyeing scanning the cluttered space. Handing the boy an old, crinkled sheet of notebook paper, Pope got to work with the help of JJ and Kiara as John B and you scoured the desks for anything else of use.

Your ears were quick to pick up on the sound of an engine over the chatter of the brainiac bunch behind you. Eyes perking up to see a black truck pulling onto the yard.”...Guys?” You spoke, but not loud enough. “Guys!” You shushed them, all eyes turning to you. “Somebody’s here.”

The five of you crowded around the window, peeking through the blinds and peering through the dusted glass. Two males got out of the car and you recognized them immediately. “Those are the guys from The Marsh and Lana’s house.”

John B was quick to turn towards JJ. “Where’s the gun?”

“I don’t know-”

“Now you don’t have the gun? The one time we need the gun?” Kiara panicked.

“It was in my backpack and then I-...it’s on the porch.” JJ quickly realized, sighing before biting his lip out of frustration.

“Go. Go get it.” John B urged quietly but you were quick to step up, tugging the short sleeve of JJ’s shirt before he could open the door.

“No, no, we are not sending JJ out there to be pummeled by square troopers, square groupers, whatever they are-”

“We need the gun-” The bandana-wearing boy hissed.

“I don’t care. We stay put. We stay together.” You insisted. But JJ gently swiped your hand down and backed out of your reach, one hand up in surrender. “What’re you doing-”

“It’ll be quick, I swear. I’m like a ninja-”

“JJ.” You said simply, disappointed as you curled your fist in annoyance.

“I’ll be on my Batman shit.” He whispered before leaving the room quietly with the door cracked behind him, allowing you all to see him leave.

“John Routledge!” A country man’s voice boomed, causing JJ to turn around and slide his way back into the room quietly before he’d even made it two steps outside of the office. “C’mon out now!” JJ closed and locked the door as you all heard the pairs of footsteps enter The Chateau. The men began smashing and throwing things around just as they did Ms. Lana’s house. Was this their MO or something?

‘Window’ Kie mouthed, pointing to the window that led straight into the yard, towards the chicken coop and the surf shack. JJ and Pope rushed over to it as John B held down the door, which was just him standing against it with his hands above his head. JJ and Pope tried to lift the frame but it wouldn’t budge. Your face twisted in confusion, walking over to where the two boys were struggling and attempting to pull up the window seal yourself with no better luck.

“It’s painted shut.” You couldn’t help but smack your teeth, cursing under your breath as your eyes quickly scanned the room for something sharp as you patted the back of your shorts, feeling an object in your pocket. Digging your hand in to reveal a pen, the one you’d been using to journal that morning. You whispered for the guys to move before ejecting the pen and sliding it quickly along the seal to break it as quickly as possible. 

Suddenly, one of the square groupers began kicking the door down, John B running across the room.

“Hurry!” Kiara whispered.

“I’m going as fast as I can!” You hissed. When the seal was completely broken, you wasted no time in opening the window, being the first to jump down into the backyard and making a b-line for the coop. The five of you piled inside one by one, the space surprisingly big enough for five fully grown teenagers as you crouched in tense silence. Just then, you heard a shot ring out from the inside of the house, assuming the man shot the door down.

Everyone could hear everyone breathing, shaky breaths all throughout the small enclosure. And the roosters. One rooster would not stop crowing. You were hoping, praying the damn thing would stop making noise. It wasn’t long before the guys were seen leaving the house, carrying at least two crates of books and research each.

“Pope, shut him up.” JJ demanded, referring to the rooster next to Pope that was making the most noise.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Pet it or something, I don’t know.” Kie cried. Suddenly , JJ got up and grabbed the rooster by its neck, pressing it into the ground until its neck audibly snapped and its clucking ceased. You couldn’t help but cringe and look away, the sight somehow prompting you to gag. JJ’s eyes met yours as if he was making sure you were okay, you giving him a sickly nod in return. One that wasn’t as reassuring as you hoped. Kie was crying silently and you didn’t miss the way John B grabbed her hand in comfort. 

“WHAT BETTER PLACE TO HIDE A MESSAGE THAN A FAMILY HEIRLOOM?” John B tried to muse from the driver’s seat of The Twinkie.

“Maybe somewhere more easily accessible.” You said bluntly, laying back on the floor of the van, your foot on Pope and head in JJ’s lap, Kiara in the passenger seat. “Like a hidden jewelry box compartment or a locked drawer. Not inside of a death compass on a dead man’s sunken boat.”

John B simply ignored you. “He had to know it was gonna get back to me, right?” He spoke hopefully, referring to his father. 

“It’s possible.” Kie agreed from the passenger seat next to him, not wholeheartedly however. 

“It could also be possible that you’re concocting wild theories to help deal with your sad feels- Ow!” Pope was interrupted when you kicked his knee, shooting him a glance that said ‘what the hell'. 

“You know how I process my sad feels,” JJ started, your eyes drifting to him as your head craned slightly back from its place atop his thighs. “Dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies.”

“Preach.” You agreed, dapping up the blonde boy.

“Look, I’m not concocting, okay?” John B nearly shouted in frustration. “My dad’s trying to give me a message.” 

“...If it helps you believe, John B.” Kiara tried softly. 

“I don’t need a therapy session. I’m not trippin’ out.” He dismissed the four of you. “My dad is missing, okay? Missing. You guys don’t know what it’s like to have the person closest to you vanish and have no idea what happened.”

Suddenly, the two pairs of eyes in the back of the van turned to you. You couldn’t help but curl in on yourself slightly. “Stop it.” You demanded, averting your eyes to the window, watching the palm trees pass by. You hated when they acted like you had to be shielded from things because of what happened to your dad. 

“It’s been almost a year.” Kiara nudged JB, letting it go. “But fine. What do you think the message is?”

“Redfield.” The brunette reiterated hopefully. “Redfield Lighthouse. My dad’s favorite place.”

THE LIGHTHOUSE LOOKED A BIT DIFFERENT THAN YOU REMEMBERED. It looked older, more rickety. You could swear it was leaning now. The five of you stood staring up at it before John B turned around to face JJ.

“You’re gonna post up out here and look for bogey’s. Alright?”

“Wait, why me?” JJ asked pitifully.

“...JJ, there are independent variables and dependent variables. You’re an independent variable-” Pope tried to reason.

“Shut up.” The blonde-haired boy dismissed with a snarl.

“We don’t know what you’re gonna do!” 

“Just shut up!”

“Listen to me,” John B broke the boys up, pointing an assertive finger. “Pope, you stand lookout with JJ. Y/N, you make sure they don’t rip each other’s heads off. If we get split up, we meet back at JJ’s house.” You watched as Kiara and John B hopped over the fence and onto the lighthouse property. You slid your back against a nearby tree, one earbud placed in your ear as you drummed your fingers against your thigh, playing with blades of grass between your fingers.

“I’m gonna work on my merit scholarship essay. I’m trying to keep felonies to a minimum.”

“All right, would you just shut up already?” JJ sassed, you rolling your eyes and scoffing at them both. A few beats passed before JJ spoke again. “They’re probably boning in there right now.”

“Jesus, JJ…” You breathed out.

“What? You don’t honestly believe they don’t have a thing for each other, do you?” He defended.

“Maybe you’re just jealous.” Pope offered from his place in the grass.

“Jealous? Of what?”

“Because John B’s trying to move in on Kie and you have a thing for her.” 

“Listen, dude,” JJ started with his hands out in front of him. “Kie’s hot and all but she’s a kook. I don’t see her like that.”

“That’s what they all say.” You sang playfully, causing JJ to whip around to face you. 

“Oh, really? And what about little miss pretty & popular?”

You visibly cringed. “Ew, don’t ever refer to me like that again.”

“You’re telling me you aren’t crushin’ on someone? No rich, polo-wearing kid swept you off your feet during you and Kie’s kook year?” He egged on.

“Knock it off, JJ.” Pope defended when he saw how your face fell at the mention of it. You hated when they brought it up. Technically Kie’s kook year was longer than yours, considering you’d joined her kook friend group when you moved to Figure Eight. That was an era of your life you’d love nothing more than to forget.

“Fine, fine,” He backed off, his hands thrown up in mock surrender as he backed some steps away. Just then, the three of your heads whipped to the dirt road behind you at the sound of police sirens. You snatched the earbud out of your ear and pocketed it, standing up from your place against the tree. They were clearly headed for the lighthouse.

“What do we do? Do we wait?” Pope asked frantically.

“We can’t, man, c’mon.” JJ urged, sprinting towards the van with you and Pope following close behind. He jumped into the driver’s seat, pulling off before you and Pope had even closed the side door completely. You could only have faith that your other two friends made it out okay.

  

 “NEXT TIME YOU END UP AT THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE, YOU CALL ME FIRST. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, JOHN BOOKER?” Your mother reprimanded the poor boy, her heels clacking against the pavement outside of the department. You didn’t expect a call from John B after you all had run from the lighthouse, coming from the Kildare County Sheriff’s Station from John B saying he and Kiara had been “arrested”. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He affirmed. By the time you’d arrived at the station, Kiara had apparently already left with her dad who’d refused to bail John B out as well, leaving the boy with only one other option. The three of you stopped in front of your mother’s car as she now turned to face the two of you.

“Shoupe already has enough to deal with. The sheriff’s office doesn’t need a couple of rowdy teenagers on their radar. I don’t know what you kids were doing up at the lighthouse that led to this, but drop it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You both blurted out simultaneously, your mother having a newfound knack for intimidating people. She didn’t hesitate to jump in her car and start the engine, giving one last look as a goodbye.

YOU WERE AT THE DOCKS WAITING ON JOHN B, SITTING ON THE WOOD AND SWINGING YOUR FEET. You’d gone with him when he realized it was time for him to work, an employee saying Ward was looking for him as soon as the pair of you had arrived. He was up on The Druther’s, Ward’s boat, talking to the man himself. You couldn’t tell what the conversation was from your seat on the docks, so you waited. It was only minutes before the boy himself came stomping down the marina, prompting you to get up and dust yourself off.

“Is everything okay-”

“I just got fired.” He blurted, not even making eye contact with you and he brushed past you. You stuttered at his passive nature, scurrying to follow behind him.

“What do you mean you just got fired?”

“Ward found out about the gear.” He scoffed, and even with his back to you as he breezed through the working people to leave the dock, you could almost feel his frustration. “I can’t believe her.” He muttered.

“Who? Who are you talking about, John B?” You soon got your answer as Sarah Cameron walked by, you and the girl making brief eye contact with a mutual snarl on both of your lips before her attention turned to John B, who she somehow saw after you. 

“Hey, John B.” She greeted, her hands full of paper bags that were filled to the brim with groceries, a large, brimmed hat on the top of her head. You weren’t surprised when he continued walking as you followed without a word to the girl, but she persisted. “That’s it?” Sarah scoffed. “Not a ‘hey, how you doin’’? Not a ‘kiss my ass’?”

You didn’t expect John B to turn around and swiftly walk over to the girl, getting all in her face. With the noise of the busy marina in the back, their close conversation became hushed but it was still audible enough.

“Your secret’s safe with me? Really?” Your friend pressed the girl. “I just got fired because of you. And I know you can’t imagine that but some people need jobs, so they can eat.” Nothing shocked you more than when he smacked the bag of goods from her arms, leaving Sarah stunned as fruits rolled in front of her sandals. Her jaw slack and eyes wide.

“What the fuck?” She hollered.

“You are exactly who I thought you were, Sarah Cameron.” He reprimanded, turning and leaving behind a stunned kook girl. Although, you would’ve paid money to see that again, it was such an odd interaction.

You knew he worked on Ward’s boat so he was bound to come across her but you weren’t aware they really talked. If you didn’t know either of them, you’d assume they were a high school couple arguing out in public.

The brunette brushed past you once again, taking his time and seemingly building up the courage to break into a run.

“Wh- John B!” You called from your place in the parking lot. “John B, where are you going?!” But it was no use as he simply left you behind and continued sprinting away. You figured you’d just give him some space to himself.

YOU’D RECONNECTED WITH POPE AND JJ SOON AFTER BEING LEFT IN THE DUST BY JOHN B, meeting them on the docks in The Cut. The three of you had been there for some hours, you helping Pope fix a generator while JJ smoked unhelpfully to the side when John B pulled up in The Twinkie.

He honked, beckoning the three of you into the van with a finger and none of you questioned what was happening or where you were going as you hopped into the rickety vehicle. You were mildly pissed about being left at The Marina but you got in nonetheless.

THE SUN HAD SET AND YOU ALL STILL HADN’T ARRIVED YET. John B briefly explained the destination and plan but you half-listened. You’d been driving for a long time, picking up Kiara along the way, with no clue as to where the five of you were going.

“Do you mind if I sit this one out?” JJ asked tiredly. “It’s been a long, weird day…”

“Look, I know I was wrong about the lighthouse.” John B acknowledged. “And wrong about everything else. But I was right about one thing — my dad is trying to tell me something.”

Just then you pulled up to a graveyard, the five of you piling out of the van with a flashlight each in your hand. “This place is scary.” Kie voiced. “John B, what are we doing?”

“You know how you’re trying to remember a song but you can’t remember who sings it?” He started. “Redfield. This whole time, I thought it was a place.” He explained as you all followed him further into the mess of graves and tombstones. “But it’s not.” He held the lantern in his hand up once you all stopped in front of a tomb, one of the tallest ones in the yard, revealing “REDFIELD” engraved in the stone. “It’s a person. My great-great-grandmother, Olivia Redfield. That was her maiden name.” He spoke longingly, looking up at the stone letters. “Help me with the door. C’mon.”

Pope stepped forward as the remaining three of you flashed your lights in the pair’s direction as they attempted and failed to push the tomb door open. 

“Are you pushing?” Pope said to the brunette.

“Yes, I’m pushing.” John B strained out. Then JJ was jumping into help but even with his addition, the boys had no luck opening the door. They all jumped back when a snake hissed, peeking its head out from a crack in the stone structure.

“Woah! That’s a moccasin, alright” JJ started, jumping back almost cartoonistically. “Ye-old cottonmouth. Death in tall grass. Roof! Roof!” JJ started barking at the snake. Sometimes, you questioned his sanity.

“JJ! Shut up!” You warned the erratic blonde. 

“You’re gonna wake the dead.” Pope slapped him on the shoulder, grimacing.

“Dude, they’re afraid of dogs. Everybody knows that.” He breathed out, straightening himself back out.

“Look, John,” Pope sighed, turning his attention back to John B. “We’re not gonna get in there, it’s not budging. We should probably just go.”

You were examining the tomb carefully, flashlight trailing the structure up and down before you noticed something. “I think I can get through.”

“...What?” John B spoke.

“You think you’re gonna fit through that hole?” Pope asked, worried. 

“I’ll do it.” You reassured them, ignoring their concerns. “Just help me up.” They all shuffled to help you up — Kiara and John B holding the vines away and to the sides while JJ and Pope intertwined their hands for you to use as a human step-stool. 

“What am I looking for?” You inquired, eyes fleeting to John B.

“You’ll know when you see it.” Your hands slapped your thighs. Helpful, you thought, but you didn’t ask anymore questions. You put your flashlight in between your teeth, like a dog carrying a bone before laying a hand on each of the boys shoulders, you put your foot over their connected hands and boosted yourself up. 

It was a tight squeeze but you made your way through, landing on your feet and removing the flashlight from your teeth. It took your eyes a minute to adjust, staring at the walls of the spooky space.

“You alive in there?” JJ called.

“Alive and kickin’.” You called back, aiming the flashlight everywhere, scanning over everything. But the space was much bigger than you thought and your one flashlight didn’t seem to be enough. “I need more light, please.”

“Gotcha’.” John B said, pushing his arm holding the lantern through the crack of the wall, illuminating the space by tenfold. And that light was just what you needed. 

“Oh my God…” You breathed out. John B may not have led you all on a goose-chase after all.

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

SVN Taglist; (let me know if you'd like to be added!) @esquivelbianca @fallingwallsh @calmoistorm

©loveharlow.