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growup-thatbeautiful · 2 years

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Summary: In the remains of North America, the Capitol city of Hawkins holds onto its vice-like grip on the twelve districts it runs. Each year, two tributes are sent from each district to compete to the death in an arena. These are the Hunger Games.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, explicit language, homophobia, canon-typical violence,

Chapter Two: the sun is going down

The next morning, Billy is woken up by the gentle sound of rain. For a second, he lets himself think that he’s back in Six, water dripping against his blanket and Max humming against the noise.

But that’s not the truth. The truth is that he’s in the Capitol, preparing for his death, sleeping in a bed that dwarfs him, and giving into delusions. With an effort, he sits up and sees out the window that it’s sunny and cloudless, definitely not raining. When he looks around the room, he doesn’t find anything that could be making the sound.

“What the fuck,” he whispers to himself, scooting to the edge of the bed. It seems a little early in the games to be hearing things and going crazy, but maybe he was closer to that edge than he thought.

“Mr. Hargrove, good morning,” an automated voice chimes, turning the lights on and stopping the rain noise. “Your breakfast is waiting in the common area, whenever you are ready. Do not forget to take advantage of the excellent views provided through your window!” The window screen shifts to show the view of the Capitol. Billy can’t decide if it’s beautiful or horrific, the extremely bright colorful buildings that clash with each other. He’s not used to the colors here, yet, because District Six was drab and flat. In all honesty, he prefers the colorless view of Six.

Billy grabs a shirt from the dressing table and shoves it over his head while walking down the stairs, only tripping once. Someone wolf whistles at him and another, unfamiliar voice calls him out on sleeping late, which he doesn’t respond to because he has no idea what time it is.

“It’s training day!” announces Dmitri excitedly, the fear and hesitation from last night gone away. He paces around the room, stopping by the different people. Kali and Heather’s designers are sitting in the sitting area, Kali’s legs tucked underneath her. Dark makeup around her eyes makes them shine sharply at everything she looks up.

“Grab a bite to eat, hotshot,” says Heather, her mouth full. She grabs one of the brightly colored apples and throws it at his head. He catches it in one hand and takes a bite, his eyebrows raised at her. Innocently, she shrugs and goes back to her food.

With his plate piled high, Billy digs into the food, by going using utensils and eating with his hands. “Hargrove, manners,” scolds Dmitri, handing him a fork.

“Thanks,” he says, his mouth stuffed with pancakes. Just to be an asshole, Billy sticks the fork in his plate and keeps eating with his hands.

“You district people are so disrespectful,” mutters one of Heather’s stylists loudly enough for them to hear. Heather looks down at her plate, picking at her food, and Billy white-knuckles the table.

“Yeah, we really should get our act together, right Jim? In between working for 18 hours a day and trying to care for a little sister, I’m sure I have time for etiquette classes. Of course, I would have to practice on rocks and dirt because this is more food than I’ve ever had in a week, much less one meal. I’ll try and be better in the future for your approval,” Billy challenges. He doesn’t know who the person is that said it, but they’re lucky they aren’t working closely with him. He’s not past being difficult on purpose.

“That’s enough, both of you. Billy, play nice. Frenchi, chill. Now go get ready. Kali, Val, you can take them away.” With a sigh, Kali stands up and walks over to Billy, the same heavy boots on. A jerk of her head has Billy following her down the hall and into a dressing room that he didn’t see last night. There’s a round wall of mirrors in the middle of the room that she leads him to.

“I’m sorry about Frenchi. He isn’t very good at social cues, and you make him nervous.” Kali sets him on one of the stools in the middle of the room, looking him over once before turning to the rack of clothes.

“Probably because I’m one of those disgusting district people,” says Billy, running a hand through his hair and trying to get his curls out of the way.

“He doesn’t really think that.” Billy raises his eyebrows at Kali, and she reconsiders. “Okay, maybe he does, but we both know it’s not true.”

Billy accepts her answer and sighs, He doesn’t really want to defend himself anymore. “What’s the big deal about training day?” Billy asks while she gets his clothes out. “I mean, I know I can’t learn how to become some weapons expert in one day.”

“It’s more so the gamemakers can try and figure all of you out and throw in some curveballs to the games. They say that the time you have to present your skills is the only thing they consider, but that’s bullshit. They’re pretty much always watching, so be careful what you do and who you talk to.” She hands him a shirt and matching pants, both made of thin, athletic material. The shirt fits him tightly, and the pants bunch up around his ankles, but Kali doesn’t seem concerned about it, so Billy isn’t either.

“Any other advice for my first day of school?” asks Billy, crossing his arms in front of his chest and stepping down off the platform.

“You’re going to want to go straight for the weapons training. Don’t do that. For one, it lets your competitors know what your strengths are, and it also is pretty much a waste of time. If you don’t know how to kill someone with a knife now, you’re not going to learn anything with everyone watching you. Go to the survival stations: finding food, starting fires, keeping warm, getting water. Those are the things you really need to know out there.”

“I’m guessing you can’t tell me what the arena is going to look like this year?”

“I don’t even know that it is,” answers Kali truthfully. “And if I did I couldn’t tell you, no matter how much I want to. You know, this is my first year doing this, but I think I might be royally fucking it up. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard warnings about getting attached to your tribute, yet here I am.”

“Aw, you’re getting attached to me?” Billy mocks, hiding a smile by playing with his hair. “I’m flattered, Kali.”

“Don’t push it,” warns Kali, shoving him in the side. He can see her grin, though. “You’re starting to sound like one of those shitty Capitol pop songs.”

Billy lets out a low groan, closing his eyes. “Don’t even bring those up. If I hear one of those upbeat tunes again I’m going to beat someone up.”

“I know,” agrees Kali solemnly. Then, excitedly grabbing his arm and digging in with his nails, she says, “Have you heard the stuff District Five produces? With the drums and shit?”

“Now you’re talking my language. Nothing beats screaming to that in the middle of the night. They used to blast it in my warehouse when the boss was in a good mood. It made the days a lot more bearable.” Those days were the best ones that Billy had in District Six. He could get lost in the music and ignore the blisters on his hands and the ache in his knees. Max would ask him at the end of the day why he was in such a good mood, why he was suddenly humming and tapping his fingers.

That’s when he started showing her the music too, sneaking away from work during his lunch hour when she didn’t have school and stealing tapes for the beat-up radio he found in an old transport. They would sit next to each other, smoke dangling between his fingers, heads nodding along to the beat. When the time was running low, he would send her back to school and try to make it back on time. Most of the time he didn’t and took his rightful beatings for it, but it was worth it. It was worth it to bond with Max, to escape himself.

“I listened to it when I was in school and I wanted to punch someone. I still do that, actually. If I can’t use violence, then I can listen to someone who’s describing what it’s like.” Kali helps him down off the stool and sits him down in one of the chairs. She takes a brush in her hands and runs it through his hair, teasing the curls.

The words slip out before he can process them enough to stop them from leaving his mouth. “No one’s brushed my hair since I was a little kid.” Billy doesn’t share this much with people. Ever. And he knows it’s ridiculous, that this is something he’s kept so close to his chest for all of these years, but he also knows that it’s something personal to him. Because this line of thought, this admission, comes with more baggage than he cares to admit. It causes questions and answers that he can’t give.

Kali hums and keeps going, gently carding her fingers through the longer hair at the back of his neck. “I always had little siblings that wanted to brush mine.” Because she didn’t push him to say more, he doesn’t push her. It’s a comfortable agreement, a silence he’s willing to sit in.

“You’re all set,” Kali says eventually after she wrestles his hair into a bun at the back of his head. “Go get ‘em, rockstar.” Billy smiles weakly at her and wanders out of the room and into the hallway. Heather is waiting for him, leaning against the couch and picking at her nails.

“Finally.” Hopper’s gruff voice sounds from somewhere buried on the couch, blankets and pillows scattered haphazardly on top. “I should've known you would be the one to take longer getting ready. Would’ve woken you up earlier.” He emerges from the couch and straightens his shirt, staring at the two of them.

“Are we just going to stand here, or…?” asks Heather. Hopper takes the words as a sign to get moving. Without checking to see if they’re following behind, he walks to the elevator and punches in one of the buttons.

“I’m sure you know what happens today. It’s the same every year, so there shouldn’t be any surprises. You’ll go to the training center, which is a fancy name for the bottom floor, then they’ll teach you a bunch of stuff that might or might not help you, depending on how capable learners you are.”

Billy can tell the comment is more directed at him. Leaning in close, he says, “Don’t worry, Jim. I can listen when I want to, that just doesn’t seem to happen a lot when you’re the one talking.”

“Funny,” he deadpans, face impassive as it stares forward. “It’s not like I’m trying to help. I’ve obviously never been through this before, so ignore me.” Heather rolls her eyes at the pair of them and slaps Billy lightly on the arm.

“Happily.” Billy crowds against one side of the elevator in the corner, wanting to get away from Hopper and Heather. There’s only so long he can take being around other people, especially when he doesn’t have a choice. It’s not like he needs to try and make friends with Heather, she’s sort of stuck with him.

The elevator door slides open with a musical note and they pile out, Hopper following last. The room they walk out into is cavernous, with high ceilings and training equipment. Half of the room, it seems, is designated to weapons and the rest is survival skills, like hunting and making fires.

All of the other contestants are standing in a roped-off section in two lines, Heather’s and Billy’s and one other spot waiting to be filled. With a lazy salute and a glare combo, Hopper re-exits the room.

Billy files into place, his hands gripped firmly behind his back. Heather stands behind him, fidgeting with her hands. Time ticks by as they wait for the last tribute to enter the room murmurs starting among them. Billy realizes from the missing face that it’s Steve who’s absent. A dim sense of worry fills him, but it’s distant, in the background to the noise filling his head.

He needs to focus on himself, not let a pretty face distract him. There’s no time for that. It’s even more of a danger than it usually is, here, in this environment.

So, when Steve finally enters the room, dragging his feet and rubbing his eye, Billy only wonders for a second if he’s okay. His heart only gives a little kick at the fact that Steve’s hair is adorably mused, that his eyes have dark rings around them. He tears his eyes away before he can be distracted anymore by Steve Harrington.

A blonde peacekeeper moves to the middle of the. lines of tributes and starts talking in a controlled, loud voice. “Tributes, you may think that the games start in the arena, but that’s simply not the truth. The games started the second your name was drawn, the second the first camera saw your face. They started when you woke up on the day of the reaping. Now, they’re still going. This is your chance to give yourself a boost when the games start. You want to make friends, talk about your feelings? Go sit in the corner and give up. This room is where you will train your hardest, where you will learn skills to help you in the games. I don’t just mean how to fight, though, as some of you will be inclined to take this time to learn how to use new weapons. A small percent of you will actually die from each other’s direct violence. The rest will die due to starvation, weather elements, disease, infection, and animal behavior. Don’t for a second think that you’re going to win until you do. Now, go.” Billy waits until the first person moves, one of the District One tributes, and heads straight to the fire-making station. It’s not something he knows how to do, definitely not something he’s done before, and he’s inclined to take the peacekeeper’s words to heart. He can wave goodbye to his chances of winning if he doesn’t even know how to survive out there.

Heather heads to the station across from him, and together they learn how to start fires using different woods and materials. The first flame Billy starts dies out almost immediately. The next one lasts around a minute before he blows on it too hard and it goes out. On the third try, he smothers it with too much kindling, and it becomes nothing but a pile of burned wood. But he keeps trying, because he’s seen people in the games who end up curled into a ball, freezing cold, and not thinking straight. Billy may not know how to shoot a bow or use a sword, but he knows he can count on his instincts, and on his smarts to get him through. He’s quick on his feet and he knows how to play dirty.

By the time Heather has made around ten fires, Billy has his first one started, smoke billowing out from the top furiously. A little late, he realizes that a fire like this would be a dead giveaway if people were looking for smoke or light. The chances that he’ll actually be able to make a fire in the games is slim, but it still seems, at least to him, to be an important thing to know.

No one else comes near Billy and Heather, and Billy doesn’t know how to take that. At most of the other stations, there are at least three people, some mingling from different districts. People are keeping their distance from Billy and Heather, though.

“I think I might have scared everyone away,” mutters Billy into the fire, glancing at Heather. If she’s bothered by it, she doesn’t show.

“More learning for us. Plus, it’s not like any of them would actually help us anyway. They could drag us along for a while, pretend like we're friends, but in the end, it’s us or them.” Heather doesn’t bring up the fact that it’s also Billy or Heather when it comes down to it. They can’t both win, they can just help each other get as far as possible.

“Let’s go to the identifying plants station,” suggests Heather. “I don’t know shit about finding food.”

“I don’t either,” says Billy, standing up and brushing the dirt off his hands. “Shall we?” He doesn’t wait for Heather to follow before he walks away. She’ll follow him if she wants to, and he won’t force her if she doesn’t.

For what seems like forever, Billy and Heather quiz each other on the plants and animals that are okay to eat and which ones aren’t. His head swims with shapes and colors, plant names forming into the imagery of the different violent deaths described by the book in front of him.

Again, no one bothers them from the other districts. Billy wishes that Steve would look at him, but it’s not like he’s at his best right now. Studying was never his strong suit, not that he had a lot of time to work on it. His hair is anxiously mused from running his hands through it continuously, and his lips are chapped and red from biting them.

A few times, Billy catches the eyes of the other tributes watching him and Heather, hiding laughs behind their hands. “I’m about to knock the light out of those smug faces,” Billy grits out, fingers tapping against the book in front of him.

“Not now,” complains Heather, slapping his sounder lightly. “We still have to figure out how to cook meat.” She shakes her copy of the book in front of his face, taunting him.

“You put it over a fire, it can’t be that hard. And you aren’t helping yourself by shoving that thing in my face. That actually makes me want to punch you instead of them.”

She narrows his eyes at him and accentuates each of her words with a poke in his chest. “You wouldn’t fucking dare.” With a glint in her eyes, she smiles wickedly and says, “Do you want to beat some of that anger out?”

“I wish I could, but I think I remember being on specific instructions not to show off our skills, and my only skill is my severe aggression.” Billy flops onto the floor miserably, splaying out like a starfish.

“There are other ways to be aggressive than with fists, dumbass.” Standing up, Heather holds out a hand to Billy, which he accepts after a moment of suspicious staring.

“I’ve never spoken to someone without starting a fight,” Billy says, realizing his words too late. “That’s not what I was trying to say. I mean, if we go over there and try to talk to them, the probability of me hitting them increases by a lot.”

“I’ll hold you back,” Heather responds solemnly. “And I won’t let you do all the talking.” She grabs his arm and hauls him towards the largest group of people, which mainly consists of the careers from one and two. The fact that Steve is part of that group might make him pick up his pace and catch a glimpse of himself on the reflective surface of the targets.

Billy forgoes introducing himself and Heather. “You guys seem like you’re having a lot of fun,” drawls Billy, leaning against the rack of weights and taking one of them, testing it between his hands. “We were wondering something. Heather?”

“Thank you, Billy. So, how long before you guys last before you turn on each other? I mean, we can’t all win, right?” Heather’s tone is casual, but her eyes have a sharp glint to them that Billy recognizes as his own. Billy bites the inside of his lip in order to keep from smiling. Sure, it’s morbid, but it’s true.

The people around him look down at their feet, shuffling around and not responding. Billy watches Steve and finds that Steve is already looking at him with inquisitive, narrowed eyes. It puts him into defensive mode immediately. The hair at his nape stands on the edge and he puts the weight down harshly. “It’s okay for you to pull shit like this but we can’t try to enjoy ourselves a little?” asks Steve, anger in his tone.

“Enjoying yourselves doesn't always mean pointing at people and laughing, Harrington,” snaps Billy, stepping forward into Steve’s space.

“Being a decent human doesn’t include reminding everyone that they’re going to die in a few days,” replies Steve, accepting Billy’s advance with one of his own. Steve is achingly close to Billy, his face mere inches away. It would be so easy to lean forward and kiss him right now, which is a dangerous thought on its own because there are people all around them.

“Call me a realist,” Billy retorts, shoving at Steve, who rolls his neck and exhales sharply.

“This is my cue to step in.” Heather pulls at Billy’s arm and hauls him away, fighting against his planted feet. He wrestles with her for a moment before giving in and letting himself get dragged away.

“Well, that was a lot more sexual tension than I expected,” comments Heather lightly, grinning up at Billy. “I think it’s time we head up to our rooms and cool off.”

“I don’t need to do shit,” says Billy, but he follows her anyway into the elevator. Rather violently, she jams the 7th-floor button and leans against the mirror on the back wall.

“So, are we going to talk about the Steve Harrington-shaped elephant in the room?” Heather leans her head back against the wall weakly, facing Billy with thinned eyes.

“No. Fuck off,” Billy says shortly. She must see that he’s not in the mood because she drops it and they ride the rest of the way in silence.

When the doors slide open, they’re met with a half-asleep Hopper sitting at the table, listening to whatever Dmitri is raving about. Dmitri spots them and waves, welcoming them back. Slowly, Hopper turns to them as well and narrows his eyes. With a fair amount of difficulty, Billy fights the urge to fidget in place. This isn’t school and he’s not about to get yelled at by a disappointed teacher.

“Why are the two of you back so early? Actually, I think I know. Hargrove, I’m guessing you didn’t make any friends.” Okay, so maybe he is about to get yelled at.

“It wasn’t my idea,” he protests, pointing at Heather, who looks downright offended.

“Real mature, Hargrove. Tell me to fuck off then throw me under the bus.” Billy worries for a second that he’s finally done it, finally pushed Heather too far. But her storm-clouded face returns to its usual peaceful acceptance within the blink of an eye, like she was never angry at all. Maybe she wasn’t. Billy’s never been great at judging when anger is real; he’s usually too cautious to assume it’s fake. “We did what you told us to do: learned how to make a fire, what water is usually safe, and what to scavenge for. After that, there wasn’t much left to do besides start fights, so we took off.”

“So you didn’t get into a fight?” Hopper addresses both of them, but Billy knows who he’s really asking.

“No, I didn’t,” he confirms, placing his hands on his hips. “I have more self-control than that.” Heather shoots him a doubtful look, which he happily ignores. Steve doesn’t count. He’s…different. Not like the rest of the people Billy picks fights with. He’s not randomly selected based on how long he’ll last.

“Color me impressed. Since you have time, why don’t you go shower and get the smell of dirt off you? By the time you’re done, hopefully, everyone will be here and you can get ready for your interviews later tonight.” Billy groans and Heather scoffs at Hopper, but they dutifully follow his instructions and head to their rooms. Before Heather closes her door, though, Billy blocks it with his foot.

“Thanks for, you know, not ratting me out.” Billy leans against the doorframe, pretending to be a lot more comfortable than he is. “Apologies and gratitude aren’t really my thing, but you seem to get a lot of them from me.”

Heather looks him up and down with a scrutinizing gaze and frowns. “You’re welcome. Just- don’t make it a habit, okay? I’m not sure hot-headed is the look that’s going to get us through the first night out there.” Before he gives himself permission, he’s nodding along and telling her that he’ll do better.

Kicking himself upright, he grins at her and starts to walk away, but he’s stopped by a hand on his arm. “Billy?”

Instead of answering, he says, “You should present your skill tomorrow as sneaking up on people.”

Unfazed by his comment, she looks him in the eyes. Prolonged eye contact isn’t really his thing, especially when it’s serious, which is what this seems like. Usually, there are too many other things he wants to look at, too many things to analyze and watch for. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Ice runs down his spine, fight or flight kicking in. Fight is generally his response, which he can’t change now, so he whips around to face her full-on. “What are you talking about?”

To her credit, Heather doesn’t so much as flinch at him or his words.

“Your little crush on Steve. I won’t tell anyone. I think I’m the only one who noticed you looking at his lips when you were about to beat him up, so don’t worry about the others.” Despite her words, Heather’s tone matches Bily’s aggression, her eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched. “I don’t know why you’re so insistent that no one talks about it or mentions the fact that you can’t seem to stay away from him, but I’m not going to mess that up, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Billy is hit by the fact that he’s lucky to have a partner like Heather to deal with this with. Anyone else might not match his anger with patience and explanations or give him as many chances to prove himself to be good, but she continues to do it with ease.

“There are…people who can’t find out.” is what he ends up saying. It’s more than she expects to hear, he thinks, because she stays silent for a moment before wrapping him in a hug.

“If you mean what I think you mean-”

“I do,” he whispers. In this moment, no one can touch him. Heather, fiercely, is his protector and his sole listener.

“-then you have a right to be angry at the world, but not at me or Steve.” She lets go of him and turns on her heels, shutting the door quietly behind her. She’s gone, just like that, leaving him open-mouthed in the hallway.

He thinks about the exchange during his shower while the smell of lavender and mint simultaneously tries to slow his mind down. He goes through the motions of drying off and getting dressed, his mind occupied elsewhere.

He’s truly never had compassion as a result of people finding out about any of his past infatuations. Anger, disgust, distrust, and disbelief, sure, but never kindness or a hug. Maybe, if he surrounded himself with the type of people that would actually accept him, but that would be a lot to explain, not even considering the fact that Neil would surely find out and have something to say about it. That was never an option for him. School friends had to stay that, if less, because Billy couldn’t trust himself once he got close to them. It was much, much easier to belittle and bully people who started figuring it out, which explains his reaction to Steve a little more to himself.

Because, at his core, Steve is dangerous to be around. He’s intoxicating and inebriating in a way that’s going to get Billy in trouble if he doesn’t distract pretty, domestic thoughts with violent, inhumane ones. The gravity that Steve pulls him in with now is nothing compared to the gravity Billy knows he’ll feel if he actually gets to know Steve, and actually learns who Steve is. That’s not something he can ever afford to get sucked into, least of all now, when all of Hawkins is watching.

Billy knows not all of Hawkins would care at all, but some would. Enough would. And Neil would, which is an ever-constant, looming shadow over any lingering or beginning feelings he has for Steve.

Billy can’t make any mistakes now. He’s already gotten closer and more attached to Heather than he meant to going into it. It would be nice to think that their friendship, however recently developed, will be an asset in the games, but he can’t believe that. Not when she’s been so kind to him, not when she’s accepted all of his flaws on prominent display without a second take. The chances that he’ll be able to kill her, in the end, are getting lower and lower. He doesn’t need to double the odds against him.

He’s all but made up his mind to not let anyone else affect him when he walks into Kali’s changing room.

“So, what magical creation do you have for me today?” asks Billy, settling on one of the cushions. He leans back on his hands, head falling back to look up at her.

“Something that’ll catch the eye of everyone out there. I’m working with what you already have,” she says, gesturing to him and reaching onto the clothing rack behind her. Moving to stand by her, Billy hums in agreement and leans over the table. She grabs a black bag and lays it down on the low table. The flaps of the bag fall open and reveal dark red and black fabric.

“These”-she takes the black piece and shoves it into his hands-“are the pants. They go on your legs. Based on that, I think you can figure out where the rest goes. I need to go get something, so get changed if you think you can do that by yourself.”

“So rude,” Billy grins, holding the pants away from him and looking at them in the light. He thinks it’s made of some sort of leather because it’s smooth and cool underneath his fingers. Printed onto the material are small silver trains, hovercraft, and trucks crisscrossing each other’s path.

There’s a studded belt woven into the loops of the belt that Billy is almost certain he could prick his finger on. It’s on the edge of dangerous and Billy knows for a fact that it’s not the typical style of the Capitol. It vaguely reminds him of the heavy metal-studded uniforms the train drivers wear. He’s positive it’s on purpose; Kali’s research and planning know no bounds.

The pants struggle up and fit tightly against his legs, the same way he usually wears them in Six. How Kali knows this, he has no idea, but it feels a little like he’s fitting back into his own skin.

He looks into the rounded mirror that fits around the stool and sees a different version of himself. The easy confidence and flirtatious smile are gone, but those are things he can fake later. This version of him has fluffy, clean hair that curls easily and shines, and he has sad, sad eyes. He’s not sure he can hide that, but the goal is, he thinks, not to have people looking at his face while he’s wearing this.

The next piece of clothing he puts on is a silky dark red shirt that fits his chest tightly and hugs his figure. It feels almost claustrophobic, but he doesn’t doubt Kali. Lastly, there’s a black leather jacket with the same pattern as the pants, a much more expensive version of one he has at home. His at home is worn out and losing its color, but it’s comfortable and loved. He wore it for almost a year straight when they moved to Six, because it was his mom’s dad’s and because it was one of the only things he was allowed to keep.

“I like it,” Kali says, opening the door. With a careful eye, she takes him in, moving around him and appraising him. “But we need to fix the shirt. We’re trying to show you off, make you seem confident and carefree. How would you wear this at home?”

“I wouldn’t have this many buttons done,” he answers truthfully, fidgeting with the chain on the cuff of the jacket.

Kali nods and undos the first three buttons on his shirt. The chain around his neck, a pendant his mom gave him, lays loosely on his chest, and Kali fixes it too, putting the clasp in the back. When she doesn’t ask about it, he releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

“I have something else,” Kali says quietly. From the top drawer, she produces a silver necklace with a rectangular pendant hanging from it. Carved into the pendant is the same flower from the lighter shoved into his boot. “I know you carry that thing everywhere, so it’s obviously sentimental. Unfortunately, there’s no way they let you into the games with it; this is the next best option.” Billy has no idea how she could have known what was engraved on his lighter or how she knows he has it with him right now, but he’s not going to try and figure it out.

He doesn’t say thank you because they’re past that point. There’s no use thanking her in words because the gesture itself is beyond words. She’s taken something, a thing she can’t even know the value of to him, and she’s given him a way to carry it with him, through whatever hell he’s about to go to. It will hang next to his other charm, just to remind him what he used to be versus who he is now.

The flower necklace, in his mind, is a symbol of his mother. It has been for the longest time, ever since he found it engraved on the light that was stuffed in a box while he was alone unpacking in Six. At the time, he had been absolutely terrified of what would happen if someone found him with it. It would be hard enough to explain why a kid has a lighter, but even harder if he tried to tell them that it was his mother’s.

When he stopped pretending to be okay with things and started to force his way through life, he got the rusted golden charm he has now. It’s oval-shaped and smooth from years of him rubbing it between his fingers as a nervous habit. This charm, though, wasn't found in the bottom of a box of his mother’s things. No, it’s from one of the illegal markets in Six where he would fight, where someone claimed it was a symbol of protection. Billy just thought the woman in the middle looked sad, like she had been crying, shrouded in layers of robes and scarves, and holding her hands in prayer. Behind her, waves rolled and roses floated among them. Without thinking, he nicked it from the boxes of trinkets when he was twelve and never looked back.

He’s never taken time to think about why he chose the downtrodden charm that he did. When he was younger, he assumed that it was because it reminded him of home, his real home, at District Four. As he got older, he told people who asked that it was the first thing he got by himself, which is true. He didn’t, and still doesn’t, have many things of his own, so it was nice to have something that he chose. It didn’t matter to them why he chose it, so it didn’t matter to him either.

Now, he thinks it might be a lot more simple than that. Someone, he vaguely remembers a weathered face and green eyes, told him that it protects people. That it would scare away the big, bad things in the world. To a younger him, that was something nothing else had ever given him. Why not try something new?

It never worked to protect him, but it made him feel a little safer when he clutched it between his fingers at night.

Billy is settled on one of the many couches in the room, waiting for his interview. Just down the hall, the stage and a crowd of excited Capitol people are waiting as well. Heather sits across from him, perched on the footstool, wearing a brightly colored striped dress with her hair piled on top of her head. Her face tells him not to ask about it.

In the corner of the room, there is a small screen, showing the blue-lit stage with Murray Bauman, the announcer, sitting in a comfortable-looking midnight blue chair. The blue-colored stars decorating his eyes, his signature look, are glittery and gleaming in the stage light.

“Now we have, all the way from District Two, Steve Harrington!” The theater fills with applause as Steve walks out on the stage, long strides hiding the way his hands flutter at his sides. Before he sits, he shakes hands with Murray, smiling at him nervously.

“Steve, welcome, welcome.”

“Thank you, Murray. I’m happy to be here with you.”

“Oh, please, the pleasure is all mine.”

“No, I mean it. You’ve always been such a prominent figure to me. The games just wouldn’t be the same without you.” Steve settles into the chair, arms sitting politely in his lap, If he’s pretending to be nice, he’s doing a good job selling it.

“Well now you’re just flattering me,” Murray laughs, looking at the audience. They laugh along like puppets, mindless to the horror of what’s going on. “How does it feel to be here?”

“It’s not what I was expecting. You never really think it’s going to be you up here, and then it happens and you don’t know how to deal with it.” Steve’s words ring true to Billy, and he’s sure they do for other people. It still doesn’t feel real, so it’s somewhat comforting to know that others feel the same.

“I would say you seem to be dealing pretty well. I do want to ask you, though, about what happened at the reaping. The audience here would have my head if I don’t, so is that something you want to talk about?”

“Sure,” replies Steve easily. “Dustin, the one who got picked, is like a little brother to me. He’s as much my family as anyone else I know, and I- I couldn’t see him go through this. He’s whip-smart and he can go a lot further than I ever could, so it’s better for everyone that I’m here instead.” Steve says it like it’s simple like he isn’t doing something so incredibly selfless, so noble. He says it like he isn’t something special at all. Billy has daydreams to prove exactly otherwise.

“That’s very heartwarming. Very heartwarming indeed. How do you know this Dustin?” Murray asks the question quietly, intimately, like he’s the only one Steve is talking to. He’s had lots of practice, of course, being the Capitol’s main announcer for at least 20 years, but it never ceases to amaze Billy how good he is at getting people to open up and feel uncomfortable, and maybe, if he’s lucky, get them to answer questions they normally wouldn’t. Billy is going to be on his highest alert out there because he’s already been tricked into admitting more than usual to Kali, not that she would tell anyone.

“I used to babysit him when his mom was working nights. He doesn’t really need me anymore, but I stick around.” Steve smiles, pain behind his words. Billy isn’t close enough to Max for that to be a problem for him. Not that she would ever depend on Billy in any scenario; she has better people to count on.

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. Kids always need someone to keep them out of trouble,” Murray suggests, his easy smile never leaving his face. “Isn’t that right?” He draws in the audience yet again, and they raise their voices in agreement.

This time, Steve grins fully and laughs, more to himself than to the audience. It’s endearing as shit. “I can’t argue with that. Seeing what he gets into sometimes makes me appreciate my mom a lot more.” Steve’s response is a hit with the audience. They laugh along like it’s some sort of inside joke, falling into the orbit that is Steve Harrington’s charm. Billy feels himself getting dangerously closer to getting sucked in as well, so he tears his eyes away from the screen and starts up a conversation with whatever stylist is next to him, flirting his way into a comfortable banter. He can’t help but wish it was Steve who he has blushing next to him, color rising to their cheeks. He bets Steve would look adorable with blush, which is a jolting and terrifying thought, mainly because Billy Hargrove isn’t known for finding people adorable, of all things.

Steve’s interview must be over, because Steve is ducking off the stage, looking happily sheepish and thoroughly embarrassed by the loud cheers and whistles following him out. Billy wants to join in, but he can’t seem to make the words leave his chest.

Right when he thinks he’s recovering from Steve, he takes another blow. Because there Steve is, walking past him, beaming stupidly. Through the screen, Billy hadn’t been able to see the details in Steve’s light blue suit, but now that he’s up close, he can properly appreciate the small things. Turns out, the suit isn’t only blue, but it has thin white stripes running down it vertically. It fits him perfectly, accentuating his waist and shoulders.

Billy can’t help it. Despite Heather’s words earlier, Billy wants to push and prod at Steve, see how much he’ll let Billy get away with before he snaps. Any attention from those brown eyes is good attention, Billy figures. Every cell in his body is already alight with the fire that burns for Steve. He plants his feet into the ground and steps into Steve’s path. Technically, they aren’t supposed to talk to each other right now, but Billy doesn’t care. “So, pretty boy, you going to babysit your way into a good score tomorrow?” Billy teases, flicking his lip with his tongue and slowly tracing over Steve. He can’t help but be a little mean, can’t help but taunt. There’s no reason to play nice with someone who’s either going to kill him or he’s going to have to kill, especially when he’s already so weak for Steve. Stepping in front of Steve when he tries to pass through him, Billy continues blocking Steve’s path. Billy scoffs and says, “Harrington, I’m talking to you. Too busy thinking about home?”

Finally, Steve acknowledges him with more than awkward side-stepping. “No, asshole, I’m just trying to get out of here without punching you.” His voice is dripping with honey-sweet sarcasm that only serves to spur Billy on. It’s been too long since he’s been in a real fight and he’s itching to get his hands on Steve in whatever way he can before they’re legally bound to kill each other.

“Fantastic. I’ll give you a free shot to even the ground.” With his hands splayed out by his sides, Billy takes up the most space possible. For a second, Steve looks like he really wants to. His hands are fists at his sides and his jaw is clenched, but, with a breath blown up at the ceiling tiles, Steve smiles shallowly and brushes past Billy.

“Save that instinct for the arena, rockstar.” And then, Steve is gone, rounding the corner and leaving behind a stunned, yearning Billy.

He must stand there for a while because Heather sighs and snaps in front of his face. “Stop drooling, Hargrove.” There’s no one else in the room, so he pushes her off him easily and goes to sit in the corner. “Now you’re sulking. Very mature, man.” He flips her off and turns his attention back to the screen, where the girl from Two is giving her interview.

He tries to pay attention to the screen, but the interviews are boring and slow. Logically, he should be learning about his contestants and learning about them, but he figures Heather’s doing enough of that for the both of them, and if something happens to her, he’s screwed anyway without knowing how many sisters Tammy Thompson has. It’s so much easier to close his eyes and wish he’s somewhere else.

So, it comes with a flinch when a heavy hand lays on his shoulder and an unfamiliar voice says, “Mr. Hargrove, it’s your time.”

“I think that sounded a lot more sinister than you wanted it to,” comments Heather, one leg thrown over the side of his chair. “Unless you’re going to go kill him because then you appropriately announced yourself.” Billy grins and waves at her as he’s led down the hall and into a side room with a wall of curtains. He can only assume that he’s behind the stage. He’s proved correct when, without warning, the curtains part. The lights from the roof shine too brightly in his eyes, and he can feel himself almost immediately break out into a sweat.

Luckily, he’s with a trained professional. Murray gestures for him to walk over, which he does one step at a time. As he takes more steps, he feels himself gain his confidence back, no matter how shallow it is.

“Billy, it’s an honor to finally meet you. You put on quite a show yesterday at the Opening Ceremonies with that outfit of yours. Can you tell us a little about it?” Murray tilts his head to the side inquisitively, cocking one eyebrow up.

“Oh, I have absolutely no idea how it worked. I was just told what to do, and I did it,” admits Billy, his mouth twitching into a half-smile. It’s the thrill of putting on a front, acting confident when all he wants to do is hide behind the chair, which is a sickeningly familiar feeling.

“Well, that makes two of us,” laughs Murray. “I have to say, though, your fashion sense didn’t end yesterday. I absolutely love what you’re wearing tonight.” From the crowd, scattered shouts and cheers arise, and Billy raises his eyebrows at them, smirking.

“That’s all thanks to Kali, I’m afraid, although I wish I could take credit.” They think he’s being modest, playing shy, but it’s true. The least he can do is have a little fun, though. If he wants to stand out, he needs to be a little over the top, feed into whatever they already think of him. “I just undid a few buttons.” Murray laughs and pats Billy on the knee while Billy shrugs like he knows what he’s doing.

This version of him, the aggressively flirty and loud version of him, is what people seem to want from him. It was definitely what people at Six expected him to act like, so he might as well continue it now. Why change what seemed to work? It got his manager to ignore how he was obviously underage when he was hired and worked the same magic to get him entered into the fighting ring. If he’s willing to be mean enough, he could get almost anything he wanted. Not that it didn’t take a toll, it did, but he only did what was necessary to stay sane.

“Billy, I’ve got to ask for the sake of all the people I see in the crowd getting down on a knee to propose to you, do you have anyone waiting for you to come home? A nice girl with her name on your heart?” The question raises a roar from the audience, voices calling at Billy to say no, please.

“I’m afraid not, Murray,” Billy says, reaching an arm back to rest on the back of the chair and smiling.

“There’s truly no pretty face at home waiting for you to come back? I find that hard to believe. Don’t you?” Murray asks the audience, who give their reply in the form of screams and vehement nods.

“Nope. But I’ll warn you now, don’t believe a word I say. Everything is a lie.” Billy plays it off as a joke, even though it’s true. Leans into that easy confidence that comes with his guard being up like it is now.

“That’s only expected,” agrees Murray easily. “The games are a great time to be who you want to be, don’t you agree?” Billy knows he’s supposed to say yes, he’s supposed to feed into the easy conversation Murray is expertly leading and make people like him.

Of course, he doesn't agree. Nothing about this is the real him, nothing here screams Billy Hargrove. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t be wearing this railroad-loving outfit, no matter how stylish and well-fitting it is. “They can be, for some people. Unfortunately, I come from a place where winners aren’t generally produced.”

“Do you think you have a chance of winning this time?” Murray asks gently, leaning forward like this is a private conversation between them. Again, Billy reminds himself that this isn’t a private conversation between friends. Everyone, even people at home, can see this plastered across every screen in Hawkins.

“I think I know how to take blows a lot better than some of the tributes before me.” Billy can feel the eyes on him as they trail down the open buttons of his shirt and zero in on the healing bruises and scars that litter his stomach. Wherever Max is, he knows she’s flinching away from the sight. He always told her that they were from fights because it was easier to pretend what was actually happening wasn’t happening at all.

“Really?” Murray looks at the audience, comical, overplayed disbelief written on his face. “Please, do tell more. I can’t imagine a person who could land a hit on you. A little birdie told me that you’re quite the fighter back in District Six.”

“I’ve been on the wrong side of a few fights,” admits Billy, leaning back in the seat. “But that’s how I know I can”- he raises his eyebrows with a smirk that feels ghostly to him, -”handle myself.”

Murray smiles widely at him and nods. “I do believe you can, Billy. I don’t doubt that for a second. Now, tell me, how do your parents feel about the fighting? Are they supportive of their boy taking blows, as you said?” Billy wants to laugh. He really, really wants to start laughing hysterically, in an unhinged display of his fucked up sense of humor. That probably wouldn’t play well with audiences, though, so he settles on a little grin.

“Well, my mom left when I was five, and my dad has other things to worry about.” It’s the politest way he can tell Murray to fuck off without actually saying the words. Sure, Neil has other things to do, like practice ignoring Billy’s existence except when he gets too angry. But Billy should play nice like everyone told him to. So, he concedes and gives them more information. “My little sister, Max, isn’t a fan though. She would rather I come home closer to dusk than dawn, and she’s getting a little tired of playing nurse.” Max has never, never played nurse to Billy. The most she’s done is comment on how his bruises look like they hurt, which was a balm in it’s own right. Ignoring it was the easiest way for both of them.

“How sweet is that, folks? Tough guy Billy over here has a little sister to take care of him. Is she as scary as you seem?” There’s a glint in Murray’s eye that tells Billy he isn’t goint to get away with a cop-out answer, but he’s also relieved by the line of conversation. Murray could have just as easily asked how losing his mom felt, and that isn’t something Billy has talked about to anyone. Ever. Hargrove men are supposed to let the past be past and focus on the future. They’re not supposed to let old wounds stop them from making new, fresh ones.

“Much scarier when she wants to be. One time when I was being a complete dick to her, she pulled a metal rod on me. Almost hit me with it too, but I knew when to shut up.” It’s not the full truth, either. Sure, he was being a dick and pushing her to come home, but he had also been absolutely terrified of going home to Neil without her. She’s always been Billy’s responsibility, Billy’s job to keep track of and keep put of danger, so when he didn’t do that, punishments came. That night, he hadn’t been able to convince her to come home. He can’t even remember why or what she had been doing that was so important, but he can’t remember much of the rest of that night either. A few too many blows to the head will do that.

“I see where she gets it,” Murray smiles, taking Billy’s hand in his own and shaking it roughly. “I’m afraid that's all the time we have tonight, but I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of you keeping us on our toes. Billy Hargrove, everyone!” Billy knows that there’s a neon sign telling the audience to clap and another telling them to cheer, but he relishes in the feeling anyway. Maybe it’s fake, but they’re at least trying to make him feel wanted. It’s nice.

The noise dulls when he steps behind the exit curtains, and he finds a wall to lean against. It was easier than he thought it would be, getting out there and pretending to be the suave, self-assured Billy Hargrove that only exists in people's minds. He’s gotten good at faking.

Billy is escorted back to his floor with the presence of two towering gamemakers beside him. It would be comforting to have anyone else here, but the room seems to be void of its usual occupants. The only source of light is the window where city lights gleam against the black sky. He assumes that they’re all waiting for Heather to finish before they come up, so he takes the time to himself to grab one of the blue bottles and drink as much as he can stomach.

After a while, Billy hears the elevator whirl to life, and the room floods with light and life. Overlapping chattering voices and the sound of heeled footsteps fill the floor, and Billy can’t decide whether it’s welcome or unwelcome, not that it matters now.

“Why are you sitting in here with the lights off?” asks Hopper, jumping over the back of the couch and settling next to Billy.

“Because I’m a creature of the night,” he deadpans. “I will live in the dark until it absorbs me.” To prove his point, he closes his eyes and bangs his hand softly against the floor.

“Why can’t you be normal?” Heather complains. The rest of them settle around Billy on the various couches, each one choosing a more chaotic pose than the last.

“So, Billy, what’s your plan for tomorrow? Tell me what you’re going to do to woo the gamemakers and cement your spot as someone to be reckoned with.” Apparently, they’re not going to talk about the interviews that they just did, which Billy is perfectly fine with. He’d rather leave any questions they have unanswered.

“I’ve already told you, I think I should just go into the gamemaker’s showcase and wing it. It’s what I did in school,” says Billy from his spot on the couch, legs hanging in the air. He’s tired of this conversation, but he knows they’re not going to let it go.

“You didn’t graduate eighth grade,” deadpans Heather, tossing a pillow at his head, which he lets hit him.

“Hargrove, you have to come up with something to do,” Dmitri says, laying loosely on the floor.

“What about Heather?” Billy deflects, gesturing across the couch at her. “What is she going to do?”

“She is going to be throwing knives at the targets,” says Heather pleasantly. “Now, I believe you were asked a question, despite your efforts to avoid it.”

“Fine. I was planning on using one of the sparring partners they provide. Might as well use what I’m good at, right?”

“That’s generally the idea,” Dmitri agrees. “But how do you know how to fight? I don’t remember you having any training or older siblings.”

“He fought in illegal fighting rings.” Hopper shrugs and continues, yelling loudly at some invisible someone in the walls. “I was only kidding. Billy is an upstanding citizen who learned how to fight because his little sister is scary.”

“She actually is,” says Heather. “I’ve seen her punch a kid. I’m sure Billy learned from her.” Billy was actually the one who told Max to punch him. He taught her form and everything, just in case. When Susan found out, she had been less than happy, but she kept it from Neil. They all knew that Max knowing how to fight could come in handy, as long as she didn’t turn out like Billy.

“I learned to fight from my dad,” Billy says eventually, and it’s not too far from the truth, except his dad’s target hadn’t exactly been to teach Billy.

“A good father should teach his son those kinds of things,” agrees Dmitri, accepting Billy’s response. Billy barely keeps in the scream that wants to escape. “But a good father would also show up to say goodbye, so what do I know.” No one seems surprised by the comment. In fact, they all nod along, like this is something everyone knows.

Heather must see the inner panic and confusion in Billy’s face, because she explains. “It’s no secret that Neil wasn’t there. All the moms were freaking out over it, and even Susan tried to get him to say goodbye. It’s probably for the best that you didn’t see it, actually.”

“Yeah, well it’s also for the best that he didn’t come see me,” mutters Billy with enough heat in his voice to close the conversation.

“Well, I guess that’s our sign to go to sleep, then,” Dmitri says, slapping a hand on his knee and standing up. ‘Ladies, gentlemen, menaces, I will see you bright and early in the morning.”

The others follow after him in various stages of tiredness, Billy going last before Heather. With a tired smile, she bids him goodbye. He returns the smile with a small wave.

So much for not getting closer to Heather.

The gamemakers are high above Billy in a lofty room that overlooks the training area. There’s a tinted glass wall that separates them from the tributes, and it also must be soundproof, because Billy can’t hear the laughter and teasing that he can see. There’s one man in the center, though, that’s staring straight at Billy and sitting in one of the armchairs, posture straight and relaxed. Billy immedietly recognizes him as the Head Gamemaker for this year's games, Larry Kline. He’s usually a loud and boisterous man with greasy grey streaked hair, too tight suits, and a scatter of swirled tattoos along his eyes. Today, he’s the only one who doesn’t seem loud and boisterous, just contemplative and serious.

Billy waited for an hour while the other tributes before him came into this same room, showing their skills to the array of middle-aged drunk men Billy is currently fidgeting in front of.

“Billy Hargrove, District Six,” Kline says, and Billy is surprised by the fact that he can hear into the room now. He tries not to show it, though, because he knows the gamemakers will pounce on anything he does to show weakness. “You may start.”

Billy nods and shakes out his hands, letting the tension lose. To his right, there’s a table set up with cloth to wrap his hands in, but he bypasses that and heads straight to the sparring floor. There’s no reason in putting on protection now when he won’t have it in the game, and he has enough resistance built up to last one fight. Besides, if it doesn’t, he’s never let bloody and bruised knuckles stop him before.

He nods at the person across from him, taking a fighting stance. His hands shake more than he’s used to, but it’s okay. Dealing with nerves is nothing new to him.

The other person takes the first lunge forward, which Billy dodges with ease. He’s used to people underestimating his speed based on his strength, so he used it to his advantage whenever he can. He takes a jab to the shoulder in exchange for landing a solid punch in the stomach of his opponent, who doubles over for a moment but recovers quickly. It wouldn’t surprise Billy if this attendant gets punished for losing, especially to a kid from District Six.

He almost feels bad for the way the rest of the fight goes, with that in mind. Almost. The only other hit that Billy takes is a weak, last-effort elbow to his face, but Billy’s had worse than that. He thinks it’s around thirty seconds later when he has the other man pinned to the ground, an arm thrown around his neck with threat of cutting off his airway.

The first attendant stumbles off the stage and Billy motions for the next to come forward. It goes the same. Billy takes him down with minimal damage to himself in a matter of seconds. The third poses more of a challenge because she’s quick like Billy, and apparently smarter than the others as well. She doesn’t try to use brute force or trick Billy, she just stands her ground and takes her hits with grace, matching his blows with ones of her own.

He pins her too, in the end, just when the large clock below the gamemakers reminds him that he has run out of time. With a glance at the sweat and blood on the mat, he looks up at the window to find the gamemakers watching him aptly.

“Thank you for watching,” he says, grinning sharply. They already think he’s ruthless, so he might as well cement the idea. “You might want to clean that up.”

Billy’s misfit group of followers and devotees are sitting on the couches in front of the screens, plastic containers of food piled in their laps, blankets thrown on the floor randomly. Also joining them is Heather’s crew, a strange mix of people to be sharing a meal with. For the most part, the stylists are talking amongst themselves, ignoring Billy and Heather, while Dmitri, Hopper, and Kali include the tributes in their boring talk about Capitol architecture, which Hopper vehemently opposes. Billy can’t help but agree with him.

They’re waiting for the scores to come out for the showcases. So far, in a slow and theatrical process, the results have been given out for the first four districts, with an average of around a 9. Even for career contests, it’s a generally high number, which is vaguely concerning to them. Billy is pleased to note that he firmly did not pay attention when a certain male tribute score was presented, and instead gave his full attention to whatever nonsense Dmitri was droning on about.

“Now, we have the scores for the District Six tributes, Billy Hargrove and Heather Holloway.” Murray’s excited voice quells the conversation in the room, people shifting to the edges of their seats. Billy stays where he is, leaning back against the couch in an easy, relaxed posture.

An expected dramatic pause passes before Murray announces with a flourish, “Billy Hargrove, with a score of eight.” Cheers erupt from the couch, and Kali nudges her shoulder against him gently, giving him a look. He lets a confident grin settle on his face, not showing how nervous he actually was. The scores don’t mean much beyond the capability for sponsors in the game, and even then there are other ways, but it’s still good to get a high score.

“Heather Holloway, with a seven.” Billy lets out an excited cheer and reaches across the couch to grab her shoulder. She grins over at him and he knows he’ll remember this happy, hopeful version of her.

“I couldn't have predicted that it would have gone this well,” exclaims Dmitri, smiling broadly, his eyes darting between the two of them. “My tributes, both high-scoring superstars.”

“I’ve seen worse,” agrees Hopper, but Billy can see him grinning beneath his hand. “But we can’t stay up and celebrate. You two”-he points at Heather and Billy-”have big days tomorrow. You won’t sleep in the arena, so you need to get ahead now.”

“That’s not how that works,” says Heather, but she follows his instructions and trudges up the stairs. Billy follows closely behind, letting the energy drain from him with every step.

The motions to get ready for bed pass without his attention, his mind wandering aimlessly through the events of the day and landing firmly on Steve. It’s better than most of the alternatives, but still, fairly tragic and lonely when he knows it won’t get him anywhere. It’s for the best if he calls it quits now and tries to sleep.

Maybe he’ll get lucky and dream of Steve.

#harringrove #safe and sound #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #steve x billy #harringrove fic #harringrove fanfic #harringrove fanfiction #harringrove comfort fic #steve harrington fanfic #billy hargrove fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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shywhumpauthor · 2 years

Note

Dear Coal, I hope you're doing well.

And I want to tell you.

That I am here sitting.

On the college bench.

With the trees, grass and flowers.

And there's a gentle breeze too.

But be careful not to sit in the sun.

Cause its summer and its hot.

After twenty or so minutes of thinking.

I still can't decide what to share with you.

Do I talk about the wind, the porcupines .

The universe , your writing , the evil lair ?

Or that mid term exam I just gave .

Your writing! Holy smokes .

I need to catch up on your writing .

There's so so much written.

Coal how do you manage to write so much.

Coal it is very cool .

That we all have .

The same stars , moon and sun to look at.

On second thought .

Coal don't look at the sun ,its dangerous.

There was one time a solar eclipse .

And of course I took a sneak peak.

Cause its a frikkin solar eclipse .

And I go weak for that stuff.

So anyways lol I learned not to look at it .

So I advise you too not to look at it.

Thank you for reading it Coal.

I don't know how to write poems.

I know how stanzas are written .

But to create something good in any writing.

Is a skill I need practice in.

So buckle up Coal , Cause the last stanza rhymes.

To be or not to be .

Why did I use a Shakespeare reference .

Is that something that won't be a mystery.

It was to sneak in some love for BEE.

The end

-evil anon

I-

I don’t even have words wow

Thank you evil anon.

It’s so great to hear from you, this absolutely made my day. I really hope things start to calm down for you, and that your exams go well!

My inbox is always open for you fren!!

#no bee does not get love #evil anon gets a tag #not whump

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escapewriter · 3 months

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omfg i haven't been on here in forever pls forgive me😭😭😭 i hope you're doing okay fren😘 (also i need to catch up on everything😭😭)

omg no its okay!!! i havent been as active either so you’re good😭😭

#anon #escapewriter.ask

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nelyafinwe · 5 years

Text

me , with 3 witbieren pints down my stomach: i love tumblr

#this is not a sober thought at all #but its good to catch up with FRENS #lifelog.txt

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

Note

may i gently request perhabs a continuation to the one with the hero waking up in the hospital with the villain after they fought in a burning building? by no need do u have to ive just been thinking abt it a great deal and very much loved it

Thank you so much for the ask blue fren! I loved that series so so much, and I’m glad to continue it. I hope you like this! I got another request for this one, too.

Thank you too, anon! 🥺🥺🥺

Continued from here. All fluff, this time!

CW//Hospital setting, pill mention, therapy mention

“So, how has your day been?”

The question caught Villain off guard. Of course, it had been spoken in the same tone, the same cadence as the rest of Hero’s ramblings. But, they’d gotten so used to the melodic droning of their words, they’d almost forgotten that this was supposed to be a two-sided conversation.

For a long moment, Villain simply sat. Blinking, as though startled by the sudden flash of a bright light. The visitation room fell into silence, all aside from the ticking of a brightly-painted coo-coo clock upon one wall. It would not be long before it struck its next hour mark.

“My day?” They stammered out.

“Yeah, your day!” Hero replied warmly. Villain couldn’t remember the last time they’d seen the do-gooder without a bright smile on their face. It never did seem to drop. “Come on, I’ve been babbling on about mine for ages. How have you been?”

They should have known how to answer that. Of course they should’ve. After all, it was the same question that Hero had been asking, as though by rote, every day since Villain had been brought into custody. Into recovery.

Yet, still, every time, it startled them. Hero, their foe, their nemesis, their greatest enemy. Hero was asking them how their day was. Beforehand, they would’ve scoffed. Given some witty one-liner, something about how it was good until Hero had shown their ugly mug. But, now, they felt no ounce of hostility.

“It was good.” They eventually spoke.

It hadn’t been a lie, of course. The carpeted hallways, wood-paneled walls, and kindly doctors of the Supervillain Memorial Villainous Recovery Center had treated them well, just as they always did.

Too had the visiting room, with its soft-colored table and comfy chairs, not to mention the wide windows that allowed the slightest warm breeze to catch the room aflutter.

“Good.” Hero repeated with a confirming nod. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm.”

“Food good?”

“Yeah.”

“What was for lunch today?”

“Spaghetti and meatballs.”

“Mmm, one of my favorites. The chefs here are great.”

“Yeah.”

For the first time in what felt like ages, Villain watched Hero frown. It wasn’t an expression of disappointment, nor or frustration. Just a sad, little frown.

“Do you know how long you’ve been here at the Recovery Center for, now?”

Villain tried to think on that. The days tended to get all mixed up in their head. They didn’t have time to come up with their own answer, as Hero supplied it for them:

“It’s been two weeks, now, since you were brought in. That’s a long time.”

“Two weeks?” Had it really been that long?

“Yeah. Two weeks.” Hero’s tone was quieter, now. Softer. More parental than friendly. “Just over two weeks ago, I was chasing you through a burning building. We both almost got killed in there. Now, look at you!

You look so much better. You’re clean, you’ve got fresh clothes on, and you aren’t so much of a skeleton anymore. You look great, but you still seem so sad all the time. Is something wrong?”

Villain... Villain didn’t know.

They didn’t think they were sad all the time. Far from it, in fact. The first of their two weeks at the RC, the Recovery Center, had been spent in medical isolation, spending their days reading books, taking pills, and sleeping away the ache in their lungs. It was at the end of that first week that they’d been given a physical, and been cleared to enter the general population at the center.

Even then, though, like always, Villain had been given a choice. The doctors at the facility never forced them into anything they didn’t want. They were given the option of staying isolated, or, they could join the rest of the recovering villains.

They had decided upon the latter, albeit hesitantly. To be quite honest, they had expected a prison. Expected to be picked on, beaten, thrown around. But, the RC was nothing like that. If anything, it felt more like a hotel. They had their own room, there was a cafeteria serving three meals a day, along with snacks. Some of their old villainous buddies had been shy, at first, but they’d opened up quickly, and cracked some old inside jokes.

Yes, Villain was happy. They were eating well, recovering. Their therapist said that they were doing fantastically, that their mental health was on the up-and-up. Their days were spent comfortably, eating, chatting with friends, and catching up on some nighttime reading before settling into bed.

They were happy.

Yet, they couldn’t help but stare at Hero blankly, as though they were staring right through the do-gooder’s skull.

“No.” They shook their head, at long last. “Everything’s fine. I love it here.”

Hero’s frown deepened as their eyebrows furrowed.

“Is it me, then? I won’t take offense if it is. I understand completely.”

Villain didn’t know the answer to that one, either. Did they dislike Hero? Certainly not. They had made a point of visiting, every single day. And, every day, they would tell their stories, make jokes, ask Villain about how their day had been, how they were finding the place.

So, why was it that they could only stare on like this?

No. They knew the answer to that one. It was the guilt.

Hero had risked their life. Chased them all the way into a burning building, suffered just as much smoke inhalation as their foe. All because Villain had been distrustful. All because they’d been stupid and stubborn. They’d nearly gotten two people killed, all because of that.

And, still, Hero came to visit.

“I never said sorry.” Villain spoke softly. They knew that, if they spoke any louder, their voice would break out into shattered sobs.

“Sorry?” Hero sounded perplexed, before letting out a nervous little laugh. “Sorry for what?”

“For-” Didn’t they know? “For leading you into a burning building? For almost getting you killed?”

Hero quirked a brow. “Oh. I almost forgot about that.”

“You... You forgot?”

“Not forgot, no. I remember it. I just haven’t thought about it in a while.”

“But, but- But you almost died! I was running, and you chased me into the fire! You could’ve been killed!”

Hero shrugged.

“It happens.”

“It... It happens?”

The hero stopped for a moment, before speaking, slowly:

“Have you been nervous around me this whole time because you thought I was... Upset with you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well...” They still seemed utterly perplexed. “I’m not. At all.”

“You’re not? But-”

“I would chase you into that burning building a thousand times over if it meant saving your life.” Hero countered. “I could’ve been killed. But, if I hadn’t intervened, you would’ve been killed. It was worth the risk. And, look! It turned out. We’re both here. And we’re both fine.”

Villain’s eyes widened as the fact dawned on them.

“So, you aren’t mad at me?”

“Not even a little.” Hero sat up in their chair-- they did tend to slouch. “But, I think visiting hours are just about over. What do you have, after this?”

“Group therapy.”

“Sounds fun.” It was spoken with a genuine, lighthearted chuckle. “Here. Share these around.”

Hero shoved a hand in their pocket, taking out a handful of brightly-colored, cherry hard candies. They were pushed across the table.

Villain frowned once more, taking the candies in their palm. Every day, Hero visited, and every day, they brought sweets. Cookies and candies and brownies and fudge. And, every day, they threw them away. They didn’t deserve sweets, not after what they’d done.

“Don’t throw these away this time.” Hero spoke jokingly.

Villain’s gaze shot up.

“You- You know about that?”

“I caught on after the doctors started complaining about perfectly good cookies in the trash. I get it, though. I do.” Hero stood, stretching their arms above their head, causing their shoulders to crack and pop. “But you don’t have to do that, anymore.

You aren’t guilty of anything, Villain. The only judge convicting you is yourself.”

As Hero left the room, Villain looked down at the cherry candies in their hand. Usually, now would be the part where they tossed them, but...

Instead, they popped one in their mouth.

It tasted like forgiveness.

#villain whumpee #hero caretaker #doctor caretaker #environmental whump #hero villain whump #whump #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #whumpblr #hero x villain #whump community #hero villain scenario #whump writing #whump scenario

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marigoldvance · 3 years

Text

Courting Fíli

Part Six

for @legolaslovely because she deserves nice things 💛

Part One ׀ Part Two ׀ Part Three ׀ Part Four ׀ Part Five

note: and it is herein that we conclude this journey, mes frens!

Dís’ words knock about Fíli’s mind like pebbles in a shoe as he makes his way toward Dís’ solarium. He’s glad the meeting will take place there; it’s become something of a refuge for him since his lessons on holding court and leading council have become longer and more intense. The natural light is a refreshing change from the red-orange glow of torches, or the dim reflection emitted from the channels of liquid copper-tin veined throughout Nogrod. Even at night, when the sun has sunk below the horizon, Dís’ solarium seems to retain some of its splendor in the petals of the night blossoms.

Fíli hides in there as often as he can get away with, sometimes hefting large tomes in to read and others, simply lying back on the stone bench in the center of Dís’ strange little garden and gazing at the constellations through the skylight. It’s easy to feel like one is beyond the cloistered and crowded halls of the mountain while taking a pause in there.

Which is exactly why Fíli suggested Dís’ solarium in the first place: If all goes well, once introductions are exchanged, Fíli intends to escort his sweet maid out of doors, away from possible interruptions and, more significantly, away from eavesdroppers (read: his mother, possibly his brother, definitely his uncle).

Fíli has dressed normally in a comfortable tunic and supple bottoms that allow bits of himself to breathe, thank you very much. Overtop he wears a sheep’s hide vest and, on his feet, sturdy boots for walking. He’s prepared a dozen or so alternatives should his sweet maid decline to leave the mountain, as well as gone over in his mind as many different outcomes of this meeting as his mind could come up with.

If she rejects his proposal to court in such a foreign manner, Fíli is ready for that as well.

Still, he truly hopes she doesn’t. She was the most beautiful thing he’d beheld all evening; he hasn’t been able to put her out of his head since, even amongst all the taunting and teasing Kíli had done when he waltzed in all Melkor-may-care after Dís left Fíli to ruminate on the contract.

Strange as it may sound coming from a dwarf who previously wanted nothing to do with courtship and romance, Fíli’s excited to get to know his maid. Soft and radiant as a starlit eve in late Thrimidge, that fascinating ember of extraness in her eye that Fíli spotted when he admired her at the table last night. Oh yes, Fíli isn’t above admitting to being moved by her.

Finally, he reaches the private entrance to Dís’ solarium and slips in, closing the door gently behind himself and padding toward the divan where his maid waits on light feet so as not to startle her.

What happens next, however, has him rethinking that consideration as she shrieks in terror at the sound of his voice.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Fíli says, hands held up in a gesture of placation. He adds through a wide, resigned smile and a hearty chuckle, “I come in peace, I swear!”

His maid is clutching her heart, face red from either embarrassment or the strength she put behind her shriek. She has a good set of lungs, Fíli notes, oddly pleased by the fact. After a moment she uses to catch her breath and her bearings, she hiccoughs and then bursts into a fit of laughter. Fíli can’t help but join her, the sound catching and wonderful. Not at all like the other maids Fíli was forced to engage with, their controlled simpering behind their fingers, trying to emulate tinkling bells or delicate birdcall or some such.

No, his maid laughs like she means it, from the diaphragm. And that’s it, he’s smitten. Bring him the marriage contract and the pen, he’s ready to sign.

They each wipe the tears from the corner of their eyes, studying each other in the quiet that follows until, at last, his maid speaks.

“I must admit, my Lord, I hadn’t anticipated meeting you in such a familiar manner. I had hoped to make a better first impression.”

Fíli melts and he’s pretty sure she can tell, given how terrible a job he’s doing at keeping it off his face.

“Please, call me Fíli.” He says and then continues, “And I rather enjoyed how things played out. I feel we know each other better for it.” He leans in close, inhaling a delightful combination of scents from her skin, of loam and wet grass, “Besides,” He whispers, “You have the most enchanting laugh.”

She swats him on the shoulder with the back of her hand and snorts, “I absolutely don’t, but I shall take the compliment anyway.”

Oh, how she continues to endear herself to Fíli.

He stands and holds out his hand, an invitation she accepts by sliding her own into his palm. “I was thinking we could travel down to the lake.”

“May I ask why?”

“There is a boat my brother and I built—”

“Ah, yes, Nessy.” She says primly, “A very fine vessel, from what Kíli told me over supper.”

Fíli tilts his head in consideration, “She has seen some adventure, I agree. But!” Fíli pulls her gently into his side and tucks her arm into the crook of his elbow as any honest gentleman would, “She has a small store of blankets and I’ve had a picnic prepared and loaded on her. I thought we could make use of her for the afternoon.”

“That sounds lovely,” Her smile is honeydrizzle and warm breezes when she turns it on Fíli, “Though I have to say, that’s not what I expected when you mentioned the lake.”

Fíli raises a single brow, “Did you think I’d ask you to come skinny dipping with me?” He puts on an offended tone though can’t surpress some of the playfulness that seeps in, “I would never be so presumptuous.”

She glances at him through narrowed eyes, her expression turning positively filthy, “Well, that’s too bad, I wouldn’t have minded seeing what you’re hiding under that tunic of yours.” With that she drags Fíli toward the public entrance to Dís’ solarium, chin up and looking the picture of poised and polite as they step out.

Fíli balks.

This is going to be an interesting and most thrilling courtship, indeed.

~ fin.

dearest readers, we have reached the end of this saga. to those who waited patiently for an update, thank you! also, thank you to everyone who read, liked and reblogged, your support and interest gives me life!

and to those who expected more from this, i apologize; the fact is that i’d lost inspiration/motivation for the plot awhile ago. i’d hoped that it would return but, alas, it didn’t. still, i didn’t want to leave it unfinished 😘 i hope this ending will suffice!

xx - Mari

-*-

@emrfangirl @tmnts-world

#Fili #imagines #The Hobbit imagines #Fili imagines #Fili x Reader #Fili/Reader #Fili x You #Fili/You #Fili x OFC #Fili/OFC #Middle Earth #courting #gift by MarigoldVance #writing #my writing

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a-libra-writes · 4 years

Text

How the GoT Characters React To You Walking In On Them

It’s been more than a month since I did a longass preference (yikes) aND THIS IS HOW I RETURN SEE YALL IN THE 7 HELLS very nsfw obvs

(for my mobile frens, masterlist is here)

In this preference, you’ll be interrupting: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Dolorous Edd, Mance Rayder, Tormund Giantsbane, Yara Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Podrick Payne, Petyr Baelish, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Beric Dondarrion, Gendry

NED STARK

It’s not that he had planned this; you two hadn’t had a chance to be together for almost three weeks, and he thought you’d be here in your shared chambers by now. He noticed one of your cloaks folded so neatly across the bed … Ned was fumbling out the excuses when you walked in, but eventually he just trailed off, asking you not to tease him too much and forgive him. You just smiled as you took his red face in your hands, and he gladly gave into you. “I’ll have to earn your forgiveness, won’t I? What would you have me do, love?”

ROBB STARK

His cheeks were as red as his hair, but he hastily called you over and tried to cover up his embarrassment with bravado. You laughed as Robb pulled you in his lap and instantly dropped his head to your neck. He tried to laugh with you, but it was cut to a groan as you took him in your own hands. Your king eagerly bit at your neck while you stroked him. “I missed you, love, I didn’t want to - I-I think about you all day, you know. It’s maddening when you’re away from me.”

SANSA STARK

You were hoping to make some sort of sexy entrance, but that was shot to the ground when Sansa yelped and nearly jumped off the bed. She was so mortified, she hid her face while you reassured her and rubbed her back. It took quite a bit of snuggling before she was able to face you again. To help her confidence, you let her unlace your dress while she took a deep breath. “I-I know it’s silly, because we’ve … we’ve already -- well, you surprised me! I thought my heart was in my throat. … Having you here is much nicer, though.”

JON SNOW

The blush went to his ears when you caught him and teased him, and he just sighed and called you over. He was going to calm himself and lace up his pants, but he was pleasantly surprised when you started tugging at his tunic and cloak. You were still teasing, though, so he made a point to distract you by removing your clothes and shushing you with a deep kiss. He was trying to be exasperated with you, but it was always difficult to think straight when you were around.

BENJEN STARK

He’d just have the nerve to smirk, like he was waiting for you to catch him, and he probably was. With absolutely no shame Benjen would grin and casually mention he was just thinking about you. While you’d try to scold him about being at least a little more careful at Castle Black, it was distracting when his hands were already running up your sides and unlacing your blacks. “Would you like to know exactly what I was thinking about? The night we stole in the Godswood. I loved having you that way, Y/N, all mine for the gods to see. Why don’t we show them again?”

JORY CASSEL

It took your poor love a few moments to notice you, and when he glanced over, he saw you grinning like a cat with a canary in its mouth. Jory nearly jumped out of his skin and jumbled out all sorts of excuses and apologies - he also didn’t notice how close you were until you were crawling on top of him and opening your bodice. He breathlessly laughed and felt very grateful for having such a pretty, loving wife.

EDDISON TOLLETT

Well, first he cursed loudly, because he hadn’t noticed you until you were right behind him. You were trying to be enticing by leaning on him and wrapping your arms around his neck, but it just served to startle your poor love. Edd sighed but melted into your almost instantly. He kept stroking himself while you kissed his cheek and neck. Eventually you’d slip your hand down his chest to his cock, and he startled and cursed all over again.

MANCE RAYDER

He’d just be amused that you caught him, although he really feels no shame in it. He was grinning as he called you over, and once you were pulled into his lap, he’d sigh against your hair and switch to touching your legs and stomach, gently slipping his fingers under the fur, but not quite pushing them aside. “I was thinking about you, but that isn’t good enough, is it? I want to look at you, and touch you. Can I do that, Y/N?”

TORMUND GIANTSBANE

If you knew Tormund, and you did, he wasn’t trying to hide what he was doing, nor did he feel an ounce of shame for it. You walked in and he loudly greeted you. By the time you walked over to him, he’d already be tugging at your furs and asking for your mouth, your hands - or better, your body. He’d ignore his cock in favor of stripping you down and pleasuring you first, and his enthusiasm only made you laugh and encourage him.

YARA GREYJOY

She didn’t care a bit that she was caught. Instead, she called you over to her side, insisting you come fix the “problem” you caused. You both had been busy running the ship as of late, and watching you order men around and take control of the ship yourself was driving her mad. Once she got her hands on you, there was no way you were getting out of her strong grip. “Fingers are fine enough, I suppose, but I’d rather have that sweet tongue of yours.”

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

You felt bad for enjoying it so much - not just the show, but Dany’s sulking look when you walked in on her. The expression passed quickly and she tried to play it off like she meant for you to find her, but that was obviously not the case. Still, she was your queen, so you let her have this one. As you pulled her into your arms and she straddled you, she demanded you taste her fingers. You got “scolded” for teasing her the whole day and having the nerve to come home late.

JORAH MORMONT

You hadn’t anticipated him to be so embarrassed, especially when you were admittedly enjoying the show. The poor knight was fumbling for an excuse, and was surprised when you happily sat yourself on his lap and gave him a deep kiss. His shame seemed to melt as he held your waist and squeezed your ass to bring you closer. Jorah was clearly thinking about you, and you were happy to give him whatever he pleased, since he always gave everything to you. “You’re always too good to me, Y/N - I don’t deserve your sweetness.”

MISSANDEI

She blushed and sputtered so hard, you thought she was going to choke for a moment. You hurried to her side and tried not to be distracted by the gorgeous flush across her dark skin. She was mortified and uncomfortable, but you reassured her that it was fine, and apologized for barging in without knocking. You gave her several kisses and pet her hair as she recovered from her embarrassment. It wasn’t getting caught that bothered her; it was that she was having a very vivid fantasy about you and being pulled from it left her a little dizzy.

TYWIN LANNISTER

It was soft touches across your cheek, hair and hips that was beginning to pull you out of sleep. It reminded you of the dream you were having, and you thought you were still there, until the touches became a little more firm and you heard a familiar noise. As you stirred and tried to sit up, you felt warm, comfortable arms wrapping around you and before you knew it, Tywin was on top of you, pressing firm lips against your neck as something much firmer brushed against your stomach. It wasn’t until much afterward that you considered he hadn’t meant for you to see or hear him like that, but he certainly turned the situation to his advantage.

TYRION LANNISTER

He hadn’t meant to get caught, but your cheeky husband tried to make a joke of it and play it off like he was waiting for you to get back. He was ready to cover up and redirect your attention entirely, but you always managed to surprise him. It was a good day when you could get Tyrion flustered and speechless, and pushing the blanket aside to take his cock in your hand - and later your mouth - was a great way to do it. “Darling, you would tell me if you were some kind of figment of my imagination, wouldn’t you? I haven’t just dreamed up these years we’ve been together?”

JAIME LANNISTER

Jaime was brazen about this as anything else in your relationship. He probably knew you’d come in eventually, and didn’t care. He made himself comfortable on the edge of your bed and had one of your nightshifts in his free hand. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of much of his Kingsguard armor. He laughed at your stunned face and called you over. “Y/N, good timing. Look what you’ve reduced me to - this is a poor substitute for your mouth and your body. I couldn’t decide which to think about ... Why don’t you surprise me?”

SANDOR CLEGANE

He grumbled and cursed under his breath at getting caught, but just a few seconds later he’d tell you to come closer and get your arse over to him. Any teasing and grins you’d have would be quickly silenced by a harsh kiss, and the moment you kissed him back eagerly, he’d already be yanking up your dress. You’d tease that he was trying to distract you away from what he was doing, and he just growled. “Always running’ that smart fuckin’ mouth. I got a better use for it.”

BRONN

You had just walked into your bedroom and found him, and he kept at it while looking straight at you. Of course he had to make his stupid quips and jokes, telling you that you really ought to keep your doors locked, because who knows what kind of man could come in? Bronn kept up his sassing until you walked over and took his cock in your own hand. He still had that insolent expression, so you had no choice but to stroke him roughly and bite at his lips to shut him up.

PODRICK PAYNE

You aren’t sure who was more surprised, you, or your lover. Pod tried to both cover up and stand up, but he just ended up knocking things over in your chambers. It was a bit silly to be so fearful, since you invited him here, but you hurried to his side to reassure him and give him sweet kisses. You were able to push the squire on the bed and straddle him with confidence. “S-sorry, Lady Y/N, I hadn’t meant to -- well, I did, but - ah! Forgive me, love -”

PETYR BAELISH

Petyr could only chuckle when he noticed you there, and he even made a little joke about it. But when he beckoned you over, his eyes had that distinct hungry glint, one you were very familiar with. Once he had you in his lap, his hands would easily slip up your dress and feel the warmth of your legs. “Now you see what you do to me, Y/N. I think it’s only fair that should make you feel the same. Do you think about me, too? Hmm?”

STANNIS BARATHEONS

He tried to cover up immediately, and you never thought you'd see your husband's face so red. He gruffly mumbled and tried to sputter something out, but you sat behind him on the bed and soothed him. You had a gentle, distracting touch, and he was surprised by your affection, but he didn't turn you away. On the contrary, when you moved to face him, he pulled you into his lap with a surprisingly strong grip. He was still too embarrassed to look at you, though, so he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

DAVOS SEAWORTH

He really hadn’t expected to get caught; it was meant to be quick, to get some relief before returning to his work. It was bad enough his thoughts immediately drifted to you, and now you were on the bed, trying to contain your grin. He felt silly for feeling so ashamed, since you clearly didn’t care. In fact, your enthusiasm to get the rest of his clothes off was flattering. “Right now? It’s the middle of the day, we both got things to -- fine, I did start it, but I didn’t expect ya to… alright, alright. Ya can do whatever ya want, love.”

MARGAERY TYRELL

She was only embarrassed by the fact she was getting a bit loud, and that’s how you stumbled upon her. She gave you her signature pout as she tried to cover herself up, bracing herself for the teasing you were going to give now and the next day… and maybe the day after that. She huffed and said it was your fault; since it was thoughts of you that brought this on in the first place. Her sulking was all a ruse, though: Once you walked over to her to insist it was okay, she pushed you down on the bed and straddled you. “Ha! Let’s see how long you can keep that cheekiness up.”

BRYNDEN TULLY

He hadn’t noticed you right away, and when he finally did, the only knight could only laugh at how quiet you were. He was only a little embarrassed, his cheeks just slightly red as he explained that he missed you. He’d take your wrist, kissing your fingertips and trying to urge you into his lap. Once you accepted, he could pick you up like you weighed nothing and adjusted your dress so you could straddle him. “Do you have time for me, Y/N? Ah, you’re too sweet. You shouldn’t let me be so selfish.”

EDMURE TULLY

He nearly falls out of his chair when you walk in - you hadn’t even noticed what he was doing until he made such a clamor - and his cheeks got as red as his hair as he stammered out some attempt at a greeting. When you inclined your head toward his trousers, he made a string of excuses that gradually stuttered out when you stood in front of him and sunk to your knees.

BRIENNE OF TARTH

She flinches like she’s been hit when you walk in, and you weren’t even that loud. You hadn’t noticed what she was doing, but Brienne’s anxious expression and bright-red cheeks eventually sold her out. You went to her side and assured her it was fine, you two had been together for some time, and besides, you’d done the same thing when thinking about her … that’s when you realized you said that out loud and poor Brienne just became an embarrassed, blushing mess all over again.

RAMSAY SNOW

He didn’t bother hiding what he was doing, nor did he stop. He was in your room, and impatiently eyeing you up and down and urging you toward him. Nevermind you were coming here to get something and go back to what you were doing … Ramsay didn’t care. When you finally walked over to him and he pulled you to his chest with force, pushing you against the bed and kissing you hungrily.

ROOSE BOLTON

He didn’t care when you eventually woke up and noticed what he was doing. He just pulled you close, burying his face in your neck and letting you sleepily blink and try to shift out of his grasp. He easily pulled you back and placed you in his lap, looking very awake in spite of the hour. He was quick to give you plenty of attention, even if you were still tiredly leaning against him, and he was pleased when you closed your eyes and let him spoil you.

OBERYN MARTELL

He was actually just passing time while waiting for you, since you two had plans tonight anyhow. As soon as you walked in and gaped, he laughed and called you over. The eagerness was very obvious in his eyes and from the flush on his cheeks. You asked if that was your new shawl in his other hand, and he said no - the new one was in a gift box on the bed, along with some other … choice things he bought for you to wear. Oberyn ended up not being patient enough for you to try them on; he wanted you on the bed right away.

BERIC DONDARRION

Once he settled himself down - you really startled him when you snuck up like that - he just smiled bashfully and asked if you’d sit with him. He obviously missed you, given how he pulled you toward him and gave you several needy kisses. When you’d give into him, he’d get a little breathless, already starting to pull at your clothes. You just had to tease him for it. “I’m sorry, love, I was thinking about you, today and yesterday …. And before that… I know, I know. You’re just too sweet.”

GENDRY

Your poor love was so startled and embarrassed, he fell over trying to cover himself up, crashing ungracefully on the floor. You had to laugh a little before reassuring him that it was fine, you weren’t bothered. If anything, seeing him so bare was a treat, and you gave him a deep kiss while he was still sputtering and trying to cover up. You hadn’t expected the strength he used to suddenly flip you on your back and keep you under him, but you weren’t complaining at all.

#game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones preferences

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latent-thoughts · 4 years

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Today is Fanfic Writers' Appreciation Day, and so, I wanna spread some love.

@mastreworld One of the very first Loki fics I had read were yours. It was full of my kinda kinks and smut, but more importantly, it was full of rich story telling. It didn't just open a new creative world for me, it also opened the gates for one of the closest friendships I've ever had. You and your fics have a special place in my heart. I love our discussions (Loki knows some of them have led to the writing of more Loki fics). It's a magical thing, and I hope you keep writing more delicious Loki fics.

@caffiend-queen Boy, you write such details in your fics, my mind is blown away. Especially the stuff about clothes, shoes, classy booze, anything really...you have got such in-depth knowledge of this stuff! I don't even think about such details when I write, which is a personal failing of mine, lol. It's so damn impressive that you mix these details in, and it really brings the story to life. Great smut aside, you write some of the most nail biting climaxes (ha!) too, which is not an easy thing to do.

@nildespirandum You are a words' witch. You weave words like pearls in an intricate jewelry piece. I'm awed by your worldbuilding, and even slightly envious, if I may say so. You write grey characters so well, I feel truly conflicted when they do something super bad, lol. I hope your Loki and Nora series never reaches an end. It even gave me inspiration for writing a series in future.

@realityhelixwrites You write one of the cutest, fluffiest Loki's, and still keep him authentic and in character. Not a small feat. Your story, Lasabrjotr, has a really fleshed out reader character. I luff her. Though she be but little she is fierce! Keep on writing, you write one of the best slow burn Loki fics.

@illegalcerebral I truly appreciate your Loki fics, especially the series with the GOTG gang. It's something I badly wanted to see, and your fic filled that void in my soul. Your writing has an almost fairytale-sqe feel to it. I enjoy it thoroughly! MY BODY IS READY FOR THE NEXT PART OF THE LONELIEST PEOPLE IN THE GALAXY.

@maiden-of-asgard Don't think that I can say more than what's already been said. Your writing is to die for. The details in your fics, especially the worldbuilding and language and culture creation... CHEF'S KISS! And to top that, you blend Loki's mischief and stoicism so well. I hope to see more of your creative ventures, be it fic or original publishing.

@ohhhmyloki Your writing has a unique tone and style. Very few stories make me FEEL so much, and yours surely do. I feel as though I'm in the character's skin. I swear reading Fever was a religious experience, in more ways than one. It brought you in my life, and with you came the understanding about certain spiritual experiences I had been receiving. It has been a great experience, and I'm glad to have you as one of my closest frens.

@emeraldrosequartz GUUURL... whatever I write here, its the tip of the iceberg that's our relationship 😂🥰. A year ago, at this time, @dangertoozmanykids101 (I think) recced your fic (In One Moment) here on Tumblr. I hopped on the wagon and started reading. And then commenting on it. It was dark, it was delicious, it even scary. I found you on Tumblr... And idk what happened then... a spell was cast, perhaps? But that marked the beginning of a writing frenzy unlike any I've ever experienced before. We wrote together like crazies, and we got to know each other through it. It was so intense, it was like a fever. I hope we can keep on creating more stories (we sure are). I'm blessed to have you in my life, babe. ❤️

@talklokitome I got to know you through Loki's Library, and I thank the universe that I stuck with the server, because I cherish our deep friendship. Through it I got to read your fics, which was like uncovering a gem. Watching you write with @emeraldrosequartz was especially fun. Hope you do it again soon.

@lokilover9 Yours was also one of the first fics I read in the fandom, especially on Tumblr. If there's a potential for humor in any situation, and if Loki is involved, you know how to make it even funnier. I've had a blast writing with you, and also, experiencing the growth of our friendship. I hope that you can get back to writing again. It's the perfect outlet for your naughty and dirty creative thoughts. 😂

@amaru163 I know that I've been lacking in reading your stories (or reading much at all, lately 😭), but those snippets you've shared have been a delight to read. Please keep sharing more.

@shiningloki Boy, you've been a revelation. I hope I can dedicate more time to reading your deliciously smutty fics. They have all the kinks I wish for. One night imma set my obligations aside to simply gorge on Get On Your Knees... 😏

@grufflepuff-writes-stuff Your dedication to writing is something else. I'm amazed at the fact that you've written almost 150 Loki's Lullabies. You go girl! Your writing feels like a warm blanket on a cold and stormy night, with a fire crackling nearby. It's a hot chocolate that feels like warm silk on the throat. The fact that you can, through your writing, give us readers comfort during this tough time is something truly amazing. Keep it up. 💜

@pedeka & @icybluepenguin I love the way you weave your storyline within different MCU storylines to create a completely new thing. I love that you included mythological elements to it as well, especially Huginn and Muninn. I cannot wait to catch up on it. It's one of the best RP evolved stories I've read.

@wolfpawn You write such inspiring and strong female characters, it's a gift to the Loki fandom. You write rich, long stories filled with real world issues and problems, something that is hard to do when writing fantasy. Idk how you do it, but you're a like a supremely skilled craftsmen with it. Not to mention, your amazing work with @imagine-loki . You work hard on that blog, and I'd say you are one of the great pillars of this fandom.

@dangertoozmanykids101 @toozmanykids Guurl, your are a turbo charged fic reccer and reader. Your comments on my fics have probably added years of good life to my lifetime. I swear I want to get them all framed. Besides being an awesome contributer to the fandom, you're a great creative mind yourself. The things you've written, especially in our 'Loki on Sakaar' challenge, are absolutely out of this world. I could never, lol. I hope to see more of your writing come to life, babe. And I hope our friendship keeps growing too. You're an awesome person.

@foruneyti Your story is one of the loveliest I've ever read in the fandom. I rec it to anyone and everyone who asks me for fic recs. I hope you write more such engaging tales.

@sserpente The sheer volume of your fics is amazing. You write with great heart and dedication to the craft. You take on prompts and requests (something I've had issues with) and weave lovely fics around them. Your productivity is enviable. I hope you keep on writing and succeed as an author.

@imnotrevealingmyname My little writing fren. I've come to know you and your fics very recently, but it's been a very pleasant discovery. What more, getting to know yet another Indian in the fandom was delightful! You write one of the naughtiest, smuttiest fics I've read, and I love your thought process. 😂😏

@nekoamamori I love the sheer joy your fics bring into the fandom. I especially love your Peter and Loki friendship fic (Of Numbers And Strange Friendships). It's something that I dearly wanted to see on screen, but it didn't happen. Your fic fixes that beautifully.

@nuggsmum You are a lovely storyteller, one of the funniest people I've met on Tumblr, and not yo mention, super strong and resilient. I hope that you can find the time to write again, after you've dealt with the things that need your attention now. You're a bright star in a dark sky. ❤️

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dweetwise · 4 years

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Hello, can I request a headcannon with the killers that has s/o that has a German Shepard as a pet and would take to trail as to protect and guard s/o.

[yes you can i love dogs asdfdg this made me so happy ;w;]

sort of crack what else is new

Killers X reader with German Shepherd

Evan will pretend to be disgusted by doggo and avoid you two. “Real men don’t care about animals,” his father’s words echo in his head. Still, he won’t place any bear traps the entire trial out of concern for puppy’s safety. Please take the dog to meet him properly after the trial, he’ll warm up to the idea of pets in no time.

Philip loves animals. When he rings his bell and uncloaks to approach you, puppy is spooked and he’ll be so disappointed! He’ll throw the entire trial to hang out with you two, trying to build trust with the dog, and is so happy when it finally lets him pet it!

Max is, um... ABORT MISSION OK. He has some unresolved issues with animals (see: cow tree incident) and you’ll need to hide puppy and give Max a very stern talking to before introducing them. Once Max realizes animal = fren, he’ll become instant besties with puppy!

Sally won’t be overjoyed but is willing to put up with the dog for your sake. “Can you stop barking, I’m trying to have a conversation with my partner,” she’ll scold the dog when it, understandably, is confused by a floating ghost lady approaching its master.

Michael ignores the dog entirely. It could chomp down on his leg and he’d just keep walking. One time, you were whisked away to a trial while you were visiting Haddonfield with your dog, only to return after to find Michael laying motionless on the floor with the dog sprawled out on his face, Michael refusing to move to acknowledge the animal.

Lisa immediately lunges for the dog upon seeing it. “LISA NO DON’T EAT —” you start, when you see she’s just hugging the puppy tightly, while it’s frozen in place and very confused why there’s a tiny person covered in mud clinging to it. “I used to have a dog when I was a child!” she’ll excitedly tell you while giving head pats to the dog with her non-taloned hand.

Anna will look at puppy, cocking her head while humming, with the dog mirroring the action to listen to her lullaby. “You bring food?” she finally asks you, pointing at the animal with her axe. “NO! He’s my friend!” you’re quick to explain. Anna ends up training the dog to locate survivors in trials, and now neither of you are allowed to bring it into trials with you anymore.

Herman... oh lord have mercy. Herman giggles maniacally while approaching the animal, shock charging in his hand. “DON’T,” you warn sternly, protectively stepping in front of the growling doggo. He huffs in disappointment, before shocking you instead. Your scream is more from frustration than pain, but puppy launches himself at Herman, biting into the killer’s arm. “Hmm... interesting reaction,” Herman muses to himself, lifting his bloodied arm (dog still hanging on) and not seeming to care about the pain.

Bubba is terrified of the dog. Even when you manage to get him to pet it after gently coaxing both him and the dog, his hand is shaking. It’s going to take a lot of work to get him to trust such a ‘scary-looking’ animal.

Frank thinks German Shepherds are cool as fuck and fit his ‘badass’ image. He’ll often sneak puppy away from you, prancing around with it in the killers’ camp or trials to try to look tough. That being said, he’s secretly a huge softie and you’ll often find him cuddling the dog in his sleep when he thinks no one will see.

Joey just wants to chill with you and puppy. He’ll let the dog climb all over him and give him sloppy puppy kisses, and he’ll carry the dog around in his lap like a chihuahua. If your dog didn’t sleep in your bed before, too bad it does now because “He’s a family member and is not sleeping on the floor!” according to your boyfriend.

Julie is more of a cat person, but she’s more than happy to play with the dog. When she’s trowing the same stick for the 35th time in their game of fetch, you sneak off to repair a generator and neither of them notice.

Susie... well. “Who’s a good boy? A-who’s a good boy!? You are! Yes you are!” She loves the dog almost as much as she does you and will be extremely sad if you ever visit her without bringing your furry companion with you.

Danny won’t notice the dog at first, sneaking up to you in a trial and smacking your ass playfully. When you yelp in surprise, puppy growls and pounces on the killer, tacking him to the ground. Danny is screaming bloody murder while thrashing under the animal, while the dog is not even doing anything, just looking at him like ‘wtf is wrong with this dude’. It takes you a while to get puppy off of him because you’re laughing so hard.

Caleb is pretty cool with the concept of you having a dog. He doesn’t particularly like pets, but is willing to put up with it. Though he will snark at you to get the dog under control every time it starts growling when he kisses you or if, god forbid, it dares to jump on the bed with you.

Adiris will be like “Ah, a creature made to serve me”. She takes its leash and just... prances around in the trial, puppy following obediently behind her. When she gives the dog back, she’ll praise you for training it so well and give you a big smooch.

Kazan will be surprisingly accepting of the dog, as the most honorable samurai of his time had canine companions. It’s not the same breed, but hey, can’t be picky in the fog. Prepare for a couple of arguments when he wants to teach the dog to maul survivors and you just want it to be a cuddly friend.

Rin is wary of puppy and the feeling is mutual. She's pretty misinformed about the breed, but will be reassured when she sees how well-trained puppy is. Some mischief ensues when puppy once mistakes her floating leg as a new toy and takes off with it, causing an angry Rin to phase after it to catch up.

Pyramid Head will just stare at the dog, then tilt his headpiece in an unimpressed manner as if to say “Really?”. He’ll come around once he realizes puppy makes a fantastic guard dog, and he’ll let it roam the halls of the school outside of trials to look for intruders while he focuses on spending more time with you.

Amanda vibes with the breed being misunderstood and instantly wants to be a puppy mom. She’ll make a spiked collar for the dog, despite your protests. Will make a very pretty picture laying on the couch chilling with the dog, wearing her leather jacket and puppy wearing his new studded leather collar.

(Bonus: Clown running as fast as his chubby legs will carry him while Freddy is getting mauled by the dog into a bloody pile next to him. Clown slips on a pile of dog poop and the animal catches up to him, lunging for his throat. A small distance away, you’re watching the spectacle unfold with Quentin who high-fives you with a smug grin.)

(Bonus 2: The Demogorgon finds you in a trial, but puppy jumps in front of you and growls at the killer. Demo screeches, opening his maw wide and causing puppy to slink down in submission and whimper pathetically. Demo closes his mouth and cocks his head. Puppy starts wagging his tail and curious butt sniffing ensues between the dog and the killer.)

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jeanbeaux · 3 years

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hiii Aman 🥺💕 congratulations on 1k, fren!!! I wanna place a bid for your rush event ! (pls take as much time as you want, there’s no rush!)

my major* graphic design

three necessities for my dorm* that one skateboard I impulsively bought but never learned how to ride, a pretty but obviously fake plant sitting at the corner of the room, and a boujee-ass vanity mirror with lights around it :)

drink* minute maid’s peach punch!

struggle meal* bread with butter (with no crust ‘cause I’m a picky brat <3)

fandom* an aot frat boy please! thank u sm babe :) and congrats again on your milestone! 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

ty so much harmoni bby 🥺🥺 i hope you enjoy!!

your greek life soulmate is.....frat bro connie!!

when you introduce yourself to the people at the party, you weren't expecting that the first thing the boy with the buzzcut would say is "so you're like, really good at drawing things right? could you draw me some boobs?"

he gets hit on the head by yall of his friends for that one, but he defends his take by saying, its a valid question! but apologizes nonetheless for his actions.

the next time you run into him is when you end up face first into on the fateful day you decide to take your skateboard out for a spin, and he's catching you before you face plant. he agrees to teach you to skate in exchange for a sticker you have to design for him to go on the back of his skateboard. and when you toy with the design, you can't help but adding a little pin up sillouhette to the side of it, a little easter egg you know he'll enjoy as a call back to your first meeting.

rush week is closed!!

#rush jeanbeaux #✨: harmoni

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jjaybank · 4 years

Text

Salt • Chapter Seven

Shelter

Masterlist

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader (mentions of John B. x Reader)

Summary: You are a backpacker who has wound up staying in the Outer Banks for a while and being taken in by the Pogues. Starved of love, JJ struggles with the realisation that he’s falling for his friend. Hard.

In which Kie plays reggae music and things get intimate.

A/N: In my head The Pogues are like in their early twenties in this okay, so humour me. I haven’t updated this series for so long but ya gal got her mojo back x also this chapter is a smutty one and I haven’t written smut in a while so I'm sorry.

Warnings: nswf, like mostly smut, some swearing, mentions of drugs and alcohol, not proof read lol

Word Count: 3.4K

Taglist: @danicarosaline @sspidermanss @teamnick @x-lulu @pancakefancake @plantsarenice-love @mybnkjj@1believe-in-your-self1 @thistreasurehunter @pixelated-pogues @moldisgoodforyou @jellyfishbeansontoast @otrbnks @heavenlymama @jeyramarie @calamitykatie @downbytheouterbanks @socialwriter @pixelated-pogues (i also tagged some frens I hope that's okay x)

The boat trip back to John B’s house is silent. But this time the clouds don’t feel as if they’re constricting around your throat. This time the breeze ripples over you lightly, and JJ’s hand knits so comfortably into yours. You cast one last forlorn look at your decimated house, and shift more snugly against your backpack. You had lost track of time, instead beginning to broach the subject of your insecurities and misunderstandings. The weak trickles of sunlight that manage to perforate the blanket of cloud are quickly retreating into the horizon. Tracks of faded gold leaving frail patterns on the murky surface of the marsh. JJ steers you through the marsh with one hand on the wheel. His gaze moves from the brackish water to where you nestle beside him, a small smug smile playing over his lips. The shell, with it’s wide bands of ecru and lapis, rolls between your fingers as you muse over the significance that such a small inanimate object holds.

When you arrive back at the Chateau the yard is deserted, but the evidence that John B has been hard at work is clear. The roof has been haphazardly patched up with what looks like old fishing net ropes and a broken barn door. You love it. You spot Kie’s car abandoned in the driveway. There’s a part of you so completely comforted by the thought of being surrounded by your friends after your whirlwind of a day. The other part is desperate to have a proper conversation with JJ about what happens next. You observe JJ with an appreciative eye while he checks over the Pogue and joins you on the jetty. He smirks when he catches you watching him, and your ears go hot as you’re caught in the act. You turn towards the Chateau in a bid to hide your blushing face, and also because you are enticed by the warm glow that emanates from the windows. But JJ seizes your wrist in his hand. He pulls you into him gently, capturing your lips in his. A rough hand cups the back of your head and you smile against his kiss. His fingers twist tenderly into the hair at the nape of your neck. He is soft in his actions, testing the waters and allowing you the chance to turn him down. And yet a fiery and desperate energy exudes him. He is savouring you, immersing himself in the very essence of you. You pull away after a moment with a grin plastered across your face. His expression matches yours and you relish the bliss of the moment. A rumble of thunder rolls over the marshland. JJ looks past you suddenly, his eyes focussed on the silhouettes moving in the windows of the Chateau. The faint thrum of music reaches you before it dances its way across the water and into the encroaching darkness. You notice where JJ’s uncertain gaze is centered and reach a hand up to cradle his face. ‘We don’t have to tell them anything,’ you affirm, ‘not if you’re not ready.’ JJ returns his attention to you, absentmindedly laying his own hand over yours. His eyes are glossy, the ocean in them sparkling as if under a midday sun. You both have so much more to talk about and you understand why he does not feel prepared for the onslaught of questions and excitement that the evolution of your relationship will bring. You hadn’t even really spoken about it yourselves, it was complex and messy and you needed a little more time. JJ’s face scrunches up in thought, his hand still holding yours against his cheek. ‘Not yet’ he agrees, dropping your hand and stooping to pull your backpack onto his shoulder. You make your way to the Chateau several steps in front of him, intensely aware of the fact that he’s watching you walk away. You glance over your shoulder and are met with a wink. You roll your eyes at the boy, and you can’t stop your face from splitting into a smile at the cheek of him. The music grows louder as you approach the porch and you can instantly tell that Kie is responsible for the speakers tonight. The soft reggae tones flow through you and you are immediately home. As you turn the door handle, the heavens open once more. Inside, the room is full of lazy chatter and thick with smoke. The scent of marujuana floods your senses and warms you to your fingertips. The rain sings on the tin roof of the porch and the sudden noise catches the attention of your friends. The conversation dies down abruptly and three concerned faces turn towards the door. JJ closes the door behind him and the sound echoes around the room. John B stands suddenly, looking between the two of you expectantly. You shift on the spot, pinned down by three pairs of eyes. ‘So...er’ John B starts, looking at you pointedly, trying to discern the tone between JJ and yourself. ‘So, my house is gone,’ you shrug, smiling sadly and moving further into the room. ‘you mind if I stay here for a while?’ You look to John B, and find yourself suddenly enveloped in a crushing hug. You hear JJ dump your bag on the floor and make his way to the kitchen. John B releases you from his grip slightly, only to hold you at arm's length, a hand on each shoulder. He looks deeply into your eyes, flicking from one to the other, silently asking. You nod slowly, ‘all good.’ John B seems satisfied with your response and gestures for you to join Kie and Pope on the sofa. You shrug off your sweater and throw it over the back of the armchair opposite. Kie winds her arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her and expressing her regrets for how badly the storm has treated you. JJ returns, two bottles clinking against each other in one hand, a bag of chips in the other. Your stomach cramps up in hunger and you realise you hadn’t eaten all day. JJ lobs the bag in your direction and slides a beer across the coffee table towards you. You exchange soft smiles, and your friends sigh in quiet relief as they recognise your dynamic going back to normal. It’s not long before the combination of an emotional rollercoaster of a day, weed, and beer, sends you into a gentle slumber. Pope shifts beside you so that you can settle more comfortably into the cushions. The incessant rainfall and threat of the continuing storm means that John B has little choice but to offer up his home to his friends for the night. JJ falls asleep in the armchair shortly after you and his face is peaceful for the first time in a long while. So peaceful that the others can’t bring themselves to wake him from his uncomfortable looking position. Pope ends up crashing in John B’s room and Kie takes the spare, she likes her space, she’s a starfisher. It’s around 4am when a crack of lightning startles you from your sleep. You glance around blearily, taking in the abandoned beer bottles and lingering scent of smoke. Rizlas and filters litter the floor and you grimace at the mess. You rub your eyes, suddenly overcome with a dry mouth. Another flash of lightning illuminates the room and you notice JJ sprawled awkwardly over the armchair, one hand brushing the floorboards. You move quietly to the kitchen where you fill a glass with water. You watch the rain from the window for a minute or two, mesmerised by the way it disturbs the surface of the marsh. The storms on the island always fascinated you. They sucked you in, and there had been many times when you had sat on the porch during a storm and watched for hours. You were transfixed by the simultaneous chaos and natural order. You are pulled from your thoughts by a pair of arms wrapping around your waist. You jump at the touch, but instinctively sink back into a broad chest as the unmistakable scent of JJ engulfs you. The everpresent salt on his skin, the bitterness of the beer. It consumes you. Your breath hitches as his lips find your neck, and you grip the countertop. A shiver of pleasure runs down your spine and his mouth turns into a smirk against your skin. It feels as if years of longing are igniting the sensitive skin where your neck meets your collarbone. It’s a feeling that’s so foreign and yet somehow the very thing you’ve been craving for the duration of your existence. You turn on the spot, bringing yourself to face the boy. His eyes search yours eagerly and you lean in on tiptoes to kiss him, demonstrating your equal desire. The kiss is greedy and impatient, unlike the ones you had shared earlier in the day. His breath is hot against you and he tastes like smoke and the ocean. Alcohol and substances are still buzzing through your system. And maybe that’s why you can’t completely remember how you got from making out by the kitchen window, to lying under the tanned body of the boy who’s touch made your skin turn to gooseflesh. The room is dark, but the intermittent flashes of lightning cast a silvery light over the pair of you. JJ hovers over you, holding himself up on his hands. Somewhere between the kitchen and the sofa you had rid him of his t-shirt. You marvel at the sight of him, finally free to openly admire the form that years of labour and surfing had created. Distracted, you trace a hand over his exposed chest and he flashes you a brazen smile, pulling you from your lightheaded daze. ‘You enjoying yourself there?’ he laughs, leaning down to pepper light kisses down your jaw, before he finds that sensitive spot on your neck once more. Your eyes roll back and JJ’s hand flies up to stifle the moan that comes tumbling from your mouth. You squirm under him as he pulls the strap of your cami down off your shoulder with his teeth. He traces light patterns over your skin with his tongue before placing firm kisses over them. You push your hips up to meet his and he gasps in surprise at the contact. His eyes meet yours and there’s something in them, something more than desire, it’s almost yearning, pining perhaps. He watches you attentively as he grinds his hips down onto you in response, surveying the way your face reacts in absolute bliss. The remnant haze of beer mingles with the fire of pleasure that JJ is kindling in the pit of your stomach. His hand moves from your mouth and he drags a languid finger along the line of your jaw. It carries on moving down your body, and he hesitates as he reaches your chest. He looks carefully into your eyes and you nod firmly. ‘Please’ You need him to touch you, you need him to want you. You know for certain that you’ve never wanted anything more than this moment. All the lingering touches and the almost moments, they all seem to be leading up to this very point in time. As if you were meant to come to this place, on the edge of the world, and have this boy touch you in a way that no one else ever had. So carefully, and like you were the only person on earth. His hand slides over your breast and you sigh into the feeling. His fingers brush over your nipple and even through the fabric of your top, he sends electricity skittering through your body. You run your hands over the expanse of his back before one settles on the back of his head. You twist your fingers into his hair, eliciting a guttural moan that starts in the back of his throat. You grin openly at the reaction and bite your lip when the high points of his cheeks turn pink. ‘Seems like you’ve got a bit of a kink there, baby’ you coo, laughing as he slaps your thigh lightly. ‘Don’t worry, (y/n), it won’t be long before I find yours.’ he retorts, and he suddenly ducks down, running his tongue over your clothed nipple, biting down lightly. You can’t help but buck your hips against him and he glances up at you, victory plain on his face. ‘Shut up.’ you groan, rolling your eyes as he laughs against your chest. His fingers find the hem of your shirt and you watch approvingly as he places wet kisses on your exposed skin. You move suddenly, taking him by surprise, until you are able to position yourself over him, straddling his hips. You pull your cami over your head and watch JJ take in every inch of your skin. He reaches out a tentative hand and his fingers send chills rippling over you. His eyes are wide like a child on Christmas morning. He’s seen you in a swimsuit countless times, but watching you sit astride him, your bare chest illuminated by the lightning, this is something else. His hands find your breast and he rolls your nipples between his fingers, You grind your core down against him and you can feel his shorts growing tighter beneath you. ‘God, you look so good’ he groans, throwing his head back as you move over his dick. His eyes are scrunched shut in pleasure, and his hands land heavily on your hips. He presses his thumbs into your hips in circles and you move back and forth in response. His fingers find the zip of your shorts. ‘Is this okay?’ he asks, running a hand over the inside of your thigh. You nod eagerly, helping him with the button and shifting so that he can pull your shorts down your legs. His eyes linger on the lace of your underwear and you notice his adam's apple bob harshly. He shimmies out of his own shorts and you note the tent that’s formed in his boxers. You pull him on top of you, enjoying the weight of his body over yours. His mouth is on yours in an instant and his lips move effortlessly over yours. Your hands find the sides of his face and you deepen the kiss, moving your body against his. You gasp as his fingers brush against the lace that covers your core, and he smiles against your mouth when he feels the pool of wetness that’s gathered there. He toys with the front of your underwear, his forefinger running against your skin. His hand drops between your legs and his thumb finds your clit through your pants, evoking a low moan from you. He rubs you in tight circles, causing you to writhe beneath him. He mouths at your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses in his wake. He sucks gently at the skin beneath your ear, leaving a pink mark which he knows will blossom into the perfect bruise. His movements are faster than your spaced out brain can process and suddenly his mouth is on your wet centre, the flat of his tongue pressed against your underwear. His fingers brush softly on the delicate skin of your thighs and you let out an elated sigh. He pulls your pants to one side and you inhale sharply when his tongue makes contact with your clit. You knew he was experienced, there were few people on the island who didn’t know all about JJ’s sexual escapades. But you really hadn’t expected this. The boy was an expert with his tongue, pulling moan after moan from your slack mouth. His tongue traces intricate patterns overs you, and you grip at the cushion above your head when his fingers join his tongue. ‘You like that, babe?’ he asks, murmuring against your core and sending vibrations surging to the burning knot in your stomach. You groan, throwing your hand over your mouth and biting down on your fingers to suppress the noise. His thumb brushes over the folds of your pussy and he looks up at you smugly, shooting you a wink. Your eyes go wide as JJ slips two fingers into you, he tongue continuing to work on your clit. His hands are rough and calloused but this only adds to the sensation as his fingers propel you towards your climax. The fire in your abdomen is threatening to overspill and your face twists up in pleasure. JJ watches you intently as he coaxes you over the brink. Your body ignites as pure ecstacy washes over you in an intense wave, and you ride out your orgasm with your pussy flush against JJ’s dripping face. He comes up grinning, and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand as he clambers over you. He captures your lips in his and you delight in the heady taste of yourself on his tongue. You brush your hands over his boxers and he moans into your mouth as you make contact with his dick. He’s straining against his boxers and nips at your bottom lip in response to your actions. You run your finger along the inside of the waistband of his boxers and snap the elastic against his stomach. You push at his boxers and stick out your lip. He chuckles softly and moves so that he can pull them off. You remove your own underwear, kicking them off your feet and sending them somewhere into the debris of the living room. JJ takes your hand and pulls you into his lap. You place a hand on each shoulder, lifting yourself onto him, and positioning yourself over his erection. He grabs your hips suddenly, stopping you in your tracks. ‘Are you sure you wanna do this?’ He asks, his eyes vulnerable all of a sudden, ‘I mean, with me?’ You can’t help but smile at his unexpected openness and you lean into him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. ‘Of course I am J,’ you whisper against his skin, ‘I don’t want anything else in the world.’ He seems satisfied with your answer because he begins to guide your hips down to meet his. You sigh in euphoria as you sink onto him, resting your forehead against his as he fills you. ‘Fuck.’ You move your hips forward and you both whimper when he shifts inside of you. JJ’s hands don’t move from your hips as he helps you move back and forth on him and you can feel the knot growing in your stomach again. JJ’s mouth falls open in a silent plea, his eyes not moving from yours as you ride him. He thrusts up into you, meeting you halfway, and his eyes roll back as he reaches his climax. His hand winds into your hair and his mouth finds the exposed skin of your neck, which he buries his moans in as he comes. You follow closely behind, clenching around him as you ride out your second orgasm. You collapse into each other, your chests heaving and JJ’s forehead is glistening with sweat. You stay this way for what seems like an age, before a crack of thunder pulls you from your disorientated daze. JJ reaches over the back of the sofa and produces his shirt, handing it to you to clean yourself up. You look at it suspiciously but shrug. You pull on your underwear and retrieve your sweater from the armchair on your way to the bathroom. When you return, JJ has unfolded the sofabed, and is sprawled out in his boxers. You poke him with your big toe, but he is completely passed out. You laugh to yourself before you settle down beside him, wrapping yourself in a threadbare blanket and throwing some over him too. You’re sure that at some point you feel an arm pull you in closer, and you smile in your sleep. The next morning you wake with a grin plastered on your face at the memory of the previous night. But when you open your eyes you know in an instant that something isn’t right. You turn to where JJ was sleeping and the other side of the sofa is empty and cold. Your heart sinks and you scan the room for any sign of the boy. The living room has been tidied, which catches you by surprise, and when you look towards the door you notice that his boots are gone. You can’t shake the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach and you’re annoyed to notice tears pricking in your eyes. You feel played, and used, and like something is most definitely wrong.

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