#drabble games

[parrish-the-thot]

A continuation of this post I made

I imagine Steve genuinely doesn’t think about Eddie, like at all. Besides the occasional “what is he yelling about in that table” or “ Munson actually showed up to class” or once in sophomore year he thinks “how much does Munson charge for an ounce of weed? Would he take a $50 for an ounce” which causes Eddie to wait around all day at the picnic table wishing for some shmuck to offer $50 for just an ounce, but no one shows up (Steve had to go pick up Dustin after school and didn’t want him to find weed the weed when he inevitably starts going through Steve’s car)

The lack of soulmate thoughts really irks Eddie, because he knows his soulmate is in Hawkins, but he never thinks about Eddie, like at all??? Positively or negatively?? Eddie jumps on more tables, he blares loud music from his van, he is in a band, he is the drug dealer for all the teens in Hawkins and all his soulmate thinks is “why the fuck did Munson double park his van, I’m going to be late looking for a parking spot now” it absolutely drives him crazy.

He eventually figures out his soulmate must be a jock of some kind because one day he hears “what is Munson doing under the bleachers?” when some sports team is let out of playing with balls practice. He is briefly heartbroken his soulmate isn’t a nerd like him, but then spends the night thinking about how a certain fluffy haired jock could play with his balls anytime.

Steve isn’t not thinking about Eddie on purpose, but they just don’t run in the same circles, so he doesn’t really think about him too much, just in a genuine, “I don’t know them, don’t interact with them, so I don’t really think about them” sort of way. Especially after befriending the kids, Steve’s focus goes to keeping them safe and being a babysitter instead of finding his soulmate.

Steve’s experience with his soulmates thoughts is completely different. Starting in middle school he heard his soulmate think he was cute which he thought was nice. As he got older his soulmate would still think he was cute, but also handsome or pretty which, he doesn’t know any girls who call their boyfriends pretty but ya know, he can roll with that. He thinks he will have to roll with a lot of stuff, since hai soulmate seems to into a…a lot of interesting things, to say the least. Steve has dated a lot of girls but none of them seemed to want to rub their face in his chest hair like his soulmate did, who also wonder is Steve was that hairy everywhere which- he was but he didn’t think a girl would want to know about that.

He would be in the middle of a basket ball game and he hit with a 15 minute monologue about how wonderful his ass looked in “thise little green shirts that ride up his ass in the best way” and how his soulmate “wanted to be those shorts” causing Steve to miss three different shots. Also with all this wildly kinky stuff and even general sex things Steve has never heard of or thought about he figures he should become more knowledgeable to better be prepared for his soulmate.

One day when Steve is cleaning up a drink he spilled in the cafeteria and heard “god Harrington looks good on his knees, bet he would look even better with my cock in his mouth” figures chances are his soulmate isn’t a girl at all.

With not much else to loose and a new door opened up to him, Steve starts spending time thinking equally horny thinvs about different guys he sees in class, just to see if they will react to what he is thinking. This is how he figures out Eddie is his soulmate.

Steve notices eddies table is getting a little rowdy, as is always does before Eddie gets up on someone’s table and he rants about jocks and preppy girls while stepping on people’s lunches, Steve thinks “what if comes over here, spits in my stretched out hole, and fucks me right next to Heathers Halloways tuna sandwich”

Eddie, whose soulmate didn’t even think about Eddie that one time his car got spray painted a fit was all the school talked about for a week, was NOT expecting that at 12:30 on a Tuesday and promptly trips on a chair and slams face first into the lunch table, breaking his nose.

Eddies friends rush him to the nurse and Steve is torn between this being a sign Eddie is soulmate or Eddie just clumsy, Steve has seen him walk into a door twice, so he don’t 100% sure. Steve decided to test this anytime he has a clear viewpoint of Eddie and starts thinking the most horny, kinky things possibly about Eddie to see if Eddie reacts proves he is Steve’s soulmate (also revenge because Steve had to go through years of Eddie horny pondering interrupting Steve during important tasks games or tests so Steve figures he should pay that forward during eddies dungeons and dorks games)

[tojis-girl]

player 141! satoru who sees you with a small group, your in a little corner with only a few friends - well they are barely friends, just people you stook by to have someone.

player 141! satoru who thinks your utterly gorgeous but by the way you looked at the his group, he could tell you did not like them.

player 141! satoru who chooses 'o', to stay for another game, hust to see your pretty face again. he doesn't care about the money that much, he just wants to see you!!

player 141! satoru who randomly gets paired with you when your team pushes you out when your playing 'mingle'.

eyes are watering as you realize your probably going yo die right now. but luckily some guy grabs you and pulls you into a room with another guy.

player 141! satoru who takes an exhale before talking, "sorry for grabbin' you."

tears flow as you sniffle slightly, telling him its okay and thank you for saving your life!

player 141! satoru who tells you to stick with him because your group were a bunch of arseholes. practically begging you whilst his friend stood against the wall, looking at the begging man.

he keeps you safe whilst hell breaks out, everyone's fighting and some people are even killed! but he takes you with his group into a corner and he wraps his arms around you as your worried eyes scatter around in the dark.

flinching at the slightest noise, he could tell you were scared.

"Wont let anythin' happen to you, don't even worry bout it,"

[voxslays]

JUST LIKE CANDY — SQUID GAMES MEN

Summary: The squid games men with a sweet, kind, and slightly naive reader, who is just a total sweetheart throughout the games. Warnings: American!Reader mentioned in the salesman’s part.

HWANG IN-HO

❀ How did such a sweet, caring being such as yourself end up in a place like this? That was In-ho’s first thought when you ran up to him, inviting to sit with your group, which conveniently had Gi-hun already in it. You could be useful. You were so young. Your trusting and naive nature was going to get you hurt. He knew what the people in these games would do for money, so from that day forward he vowed to protect you.

❀ He cheered you on in six legged race, making sure his guards knew not to kill you just in case your team didn’t make it to the end for some reason. And in mingle, he made sure you were no more than an arms length from him at all times. He’s gotta keep you safe, doesn’t he? And in the end—during the rebellion—he refuses to let you join. In-ho can’t risk losing another person he cares about. It would destroy him. So he begs you to stay put, and you do.

❀ When he finally makes it back to his quarters and becomes the frontman again, he makes sure you’re safe. For the next three games, he wastes no time telling the guards that they should give you hints and clues on the next games. Once this is all over, you two can be together, as you should’ve been all along.

THE SALESMAN (GONG YOO)

❀ When the salesman sees you—a foreigner, likely American—sitting on a wooden bench in the park he liked to walk in during his ‘work’ hours, he couldn’t help but think of what an impeccable target you would be. A perfect contestant for the games. So, Gong-Yoo approached you, expecting the normal untrusting response. Maybe you’d be confused, speaking in English or poor Korean.

❀ But the recruiter was shocked when you waved at him politely, letting him sit beside you. Yet, the most shocking of all, your Korean was amazing for a foreigner. He didn’t even have time to offer you a card to the games before he was engaged in a polite conversation with you. Gong-Yoo didn’t even want to recruit you for the games anymore. Despite being a sadist, subjecting you to such pain and torment seemed wrong for him to do.

❀ Gong-Yoo finds you every day on the same bench, waiting for him. You two quickly become friends, and then something more. The Salesman finds himself excited for your company. So when he asks you to get dinner with him, he couldn’t be more pleased when you happily accept his offer. Another win for him.

HWANG JUN-HO

❀ When Jun-ho discovers an American officer has been transferred to his department, he finds himself slightly intrigued. When he finally meets you, he’s shocked. When he thought of an American, you were the farthest thing from it. You were a complete angel. Not like how the other detectives had described Americans as patriotic and cocky. No, you were different, and Jun-ho feels himself drawn to you.

❀ Jun-ho suggests you work on the case together. I mean, you’re new to the country, aren’t you? You might need some help navigating Seoul! What if you get lost? Jun-ho should be there to guide you for your first time. That, and he might have…maybe…wanted to get to know you better. The two of you find yourselves meeting up quite frequently. At the park, the local library, the station. Anywhere, really.

❀ When the two of you finally ‘crack the case,’ as you say back in the states, Jun-ho cant help but fawn over you like a teenage boy. The way your excitement shows through your gleaming eyes, or how you immediately go to give him a high five. Yeah, he knows you’re the one for him.

[pacofprunes]

I CAN’T SEE!

things get steamy between you and namgyu, and so do his glasses.

short drabble, smut, 18+

you and namgyu had been sitting on the couch watching a movie while cuddled up together. namgyus vision wasn’t perfect, so he carried around a pair of glasses for reading and looking at screens for awhile. he slid his pair on halfway through the movie, and when you looked up at him to give him a kiss and got a good look of him in those glasses, god, you think you just fell in love again.

“don’t drool on yourself.”

you frown and slap his shoulder and he laughs. you turn your face away from him and you feel his cold hand grab your cheek, pulling your face back to him, watching you look back up at him with those gorgeous eyes before grabbing your face with his other hand and pressing you into a kiss. a deep one. you quickly grab the back of his head, reciprocating before it intensifies to a make out sesh. his tongue slides in your mouth and he pulls you onto his lap, continuing the make out, not letting up anytime soon. after awhile, he finally pulls away and looks up at you with a cheeky grin before pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose.

“you look hot as fuck with your glasses on.”

“huh. i guess i should wear em’ more if you’re gonna treat me like this.”

you scoff.

“don’t act like i treat you bad.”

“i mean, i haven’t gotten to look up at your pretty face like this for awhile.”

he strokes a hand across your check and down to your neck before pulling you back into him, his face now in the crook of your neck, his breaths tickling you and causing your hairs to stick up. he slowly starts sucking on your neck for long enough that you knew your neck would practically be painted purple by the morning. while he’s doing this you start palming him through his pants, teasing him by sliding a hand into his pants. he grunts against your neck before placing a rough bite against it, making you to jump against him and causing some extra stimulation to his dick, making him throw his head back against the couch. now it was your turn to place your face against his neck and place slow kisses and hickeys. he runs his hand through your hair before removing his glasses and running a hand against his face and wiping the sweat off, before putting them back on and laughing, causing you to look up and be met with the sight of namgyu and the absolute foggiest glasses you’ve ever seen on his face.

“i can’t see.”

“i can tell.”

you put your head down to stop yourself from breaking out into a fit of laughter and he takes his glasses off and grabs a bit of his shirt, rubbing them against the fabric to remove the steam before putting them back on and feeling you and all of your curves up, pulling you all the way down by your hips onto his dick, starting to grind against you.

“geez namgyu, never seen you so needy.”

you tease. he just scoffs before shutting you up with another deep kiss that slowly turns into another. make out sesh while you grind against each other. the movie in the back now getting absolutely tuned out. he takes one of his hands away from your face and puts it in your pants, palming your pussy before pushing one of his long fingers in you. you moan against his mouth and he just pushes his tongue against yours before pushing a second finger in you. he pulls away for a second, pressing his forehead against yours, his fingers still moving in you before he mumbles something against your lips still breathing heavily.

“you can take three, can’t you?”

you nod against him, the sweat on the two of you practically causing you to stick together before he kisses you deeply again, sliding a third finger in you, feeling your walls clamp against his fingers, threatening to swallow them whole. he smiles against you the moment he feels you cum on his fingers, slowly pulling them out and letting your pussy hold onto him, begging him to stay. he places his hand on the inside of your thigh, squeezing it a little before removing his glasses yet again, scoffing and you just laugh.

“geez, i’m gonna need to take these off if i wanna see your pretty face while i fuck you, huh?”

[diamonddaze01]

14 “You broke what?!” With Coupsie where reader kind of distracts him with kisses and 😏😏😏 because she broke something thank you your drabbles are so cute!

uh oh

pairing: csc x f!reader | wc: 1.0k au: billionaire!cheol, suggestive | warnings: none a/n: hello nonie ur so sweet i hope u love this

The warm, golden light of the bedroom bathed you in a soft glow as you danced around to a song playing faintly from your phone. The hem of your satin slip fluttered with each sway of your hips, brushing against your thighs. It was late, the kind of late where everything felt dreamlike and lighthearted, and the weight of the day had melted away into a pocket of joy that you carried in the privacy of your home.

You twirled, your arms outstretched, pretending the bedroom was a stage meant just for you. The outside world didn’t exist. It was just the music, the warmth of the room, and the giddy anticipation of Seungcheol coming home. You hummed along to the melody, the sound barely audible over the soft shuffle of your bare feet against the rug.

But in your enthusiasm, your elbow caught something solid. A sharp thud followed. Then, a sound that sent dread shooting straight to your core: glass shattering. 

You froze mid-spin, the music still humming in the background as your gaze darted to the nightstand. Your heart plummeted.

Seungcheol’s newest luxury watch—his favorite one, the newest De Bethune—lay face down on the floor, shards of its crystal face scattered around like delicate, broken stars.

“Oh no, no, no, no…” you whispered, crouching down to assess the damage. The face was cracked beyond repair, the delicate hands of the watch bent at awkward angles. It looked as though it had been run over by a truck.

Panic swelled in your chest as you frantically gathered the pieces, as though somehow assembling them would undo everything. "He’s going to kill me," you muttered under your breath, your mind racing for a plan.

And then, as if fate wanted to twist the knife further, you heard the front door open downstairs.

"Fuck," you breathed, glancing at the shards still on the nightstand. A wild panic took over as you swept them behind a picture frame and stood abruptly, smoothing down the satin slip and wiping your clammy hands on your thighs. You plastered on what you hoped was a convincing smile just as his footsteps began ascending the stairs.

The bedroom door swung open, and there he was.

Seungcheol stood in the doorway, his suit slightly rumpled from a long day, his tie loosened just enough to make your heart skip a beat. He ran a hand through his dark hair, his sharp gaze softening the instant it landed on you.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice warm and gravelly, "what are you still doing up?"

Without thinking, you launched yourself into his arms, wrapping him in a tight embrace before pulling back just enough to capture his lips in a kiss. His surprised grunt melted into a low chuckle as his hands found their home on your waist.

"Welcome home," you murmured against his lips, tugging lightly at the knot in his tie.

His brow arched, and a teasing grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "What’s with the sudden enthusiasm? Miss me that much?"

You hummed noncommittally, pushing his jacket off his broad shoulders. It hit the floor with a soft thud as you leaned in to kiss him again, your fingers deftly working to undo the first button of his shirt.

It was working. He seemed utterly distracted, his attention fixed on you and not the broken watch hidden on the nightstand.

But Seungcheol wasn’t the type to miss details. As you tilted your head to kiss the corner of his mouth, his sharp eyes caught the faint glint of shattered glass on the floor. His gaze flicked to the nightstand, then to the guilt practically painted across your face.

“What are you hiding from me, troublemaker?” he breathed against your lips, his tone low and teasing.

Damn it.

You tried to cover your panic with another kiss, pulling him closer by his tie. "I, uh—" You punctuated each word with a quick kiss, hoping to stall him long enough for an escape plan to form. But then it all tumbled out in a breathless rush. "IwasdancingandthenIaccidentallyknockedoveryourwatchI'msosorry!"

His brows shot up. "You broke what?!"

You froze, your lips still parted mid-breath, caught like a deer in headlights. "I—uh—it was an accident?"

His hands slid from your waist to your thighs in one fluid motion, and before you could process it, he was lifting you into his arms.

"Cheol!" you shrieked, clinging to his shoulders as he carried you to the bed with that signature grin of his, somewhere between exasperated and utterly smitten.

He set you down on the mattress, hovering over you as you tried to bury your face in your hands. "I’m sorry about the watch," you mumbled sheepishly, peeking at him through your fingers.

He laughed, the sound rich and low as he gently pried your hands away from your face. "Sweetheart, what’s money for," he teased, leaning in close, "if I can’t buy a new watch?"

Still, guilt nagged at you. "It was your favorite one," you argued softly, your fingers finding his loosened tie again. "You kept showing it off to everyone."

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. "And now I’ll have a reason to get an even nicer one," he said, his voice dipping lower.

You rolled your eyes, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you. "You’re ridiculous," you muttered.

"And you’re lucky I can’t be mad at you," he quipped, his lips brushing against yours as he pinned you to the bed. His tie slipped free, forgotten somewhere near the floor. "Especially not when you’re in this little number, looking at me like that."

Your laughter mingled with his as the tension melted away. Whatever guilt you’d felt about the watch was long gone as his lips traveled from your mouth to your jaw, to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"Guess I’ll be extra careful next time I’m dancing," you murmured, your breath hitching as his hands explored the soft fabric of your slip.

"Next time," he replied between kisses, "I’ll dance with you."

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[melminli]

thanos is just such an easy person to argue with

next.

there was only one thing you wanted from a young age and that was to be the child of fucking rich parents in your next life. Those were the real people who won the lottery and they didn't even have to fucking play it, can you imagine that? Hardly, you were more concerned with staying alive and not drown in debt.

But I suppose I'm not alone in that. You watched the crowd a bit before looking down at your own green tracksuit, which had the number 360 printed on it. What the...

"Huh? What the hell are you doing here?" Asked a voice which you really didn't want to hear right now. You looked unwillingly at the purple head. "I thought you were good with money, but then maybe you wouldn't be here, right señorita?" he asked you sarcastically.

Yes, you were good with money, but too bad that you just didn't fucking have any. "Look who is talking." you replied to Thanos in a playfully innocent voice. He really was the last person you wanted to talk to right now. The shock after seeing his face while his debt was exposed to the crowd had worn off by now, but still. You really hoped you wouldn't have to interact with him. "I mean, who would be stupid enough to put all their money into a stupid cryptocurrency after watching a shitty YouTube video, right?" you laughed as he smiled irritably. You pretended to only now realize who fit that description and poked him on the chest. "Oh, that's you. I'm really not that surprised, to be honest."

His irritated stance only deepened and a few others watching the scene wondered how a hot-headed person like him hadn't ticked off yet. "You're really pissing me off right now, I would have thought you'd be happy to see me,"

You looked a little uncomfortable. "Not the slightest actually since you're pure scum. Please stay away from me, bye!" you said goodbye to the guy and made your way to another corner to create as much distance as possible.

"Damn, what's wrong with her?" Asked number 124, who had been staying by Thanos' side and observing the interaction. "How do you even know each other?" He asked him curiously, but Thanos' eyes were still fixed on your figure. "None of your business." he simply replied, before his grin deepened as he loosened up again.

She wants me. They all do.

[scealaiscoite]

⋆˚࿔ build-a-fic 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

➴ chose a line of dialogue, an emotion and a setting (a number, letter, + a creature), and write/request to your heart’s content!

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ a piece of dialogue

꒰ 1 ꒱ “i can’t fucking believe this.”

꒰ 2 ꒱ “what they said back there. is it true?”

꒰ 3 ꒱ “it’s not safe here anymore- we need to leave. now!”

꒰ 4 ꒱ “you know how much i care about you.”

꒰ 5 ꒱ “they’re never going to hurt you again.”

꒰ 6 ꒱ “here, let’s get you warmed up.”

꒰ 7 ꒱ “i didn’t do it. please, you have to believe me!”

꒰ 8 ꒱ “i’m taking you home, and that’s that.”

꒰ 9 ꒱ “do you trust me?”

꒰ 10 ꒱ “i can’t sleep either. mind if i join you?”

꒰ 11 ꒱ “you’re not your worst mistake.”

꒰ 12 ꒱ “try and eat, if you can. it’ll make you feel better.”

꒰ 13 ꒱ “i say this with all the love in my heart, but you look like shit.”

꒰ 14 ꒱ “they’re going to surround us. we need to get ready.”

꒰ 15 ꒱ “i need you to leave.”

꒰ 16 ꒱ “we can’t be seen together like this. not anymore.”

꒰ 17 ꒱ “it’s dangerous. i need you to know that before you agree.”

꒰ 18 ꒱ “it’s just one night- surely sharing a bed for that long won’t kill us.”

꒰ 19 ꒱ “it’s getting dark, we should think about heading back.”

꒰ 20 ꒱ “what have i told you about coming here?!”

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ an emotion

꒰ A ꒱ disdain

꒰ B ꒱ grief

꒰ C ꒱ ecstasy

꒰ D ꒱ disbelief

꒰ E ꒱ anxiety

꒰ F ꒱ contentment

꒰ G ꒱ drunkenness

꒰ H ꒱ enjoyment

꒰ I ꒱ confusion

꒰ J ꒱ fear

꒰ K ꒱ hunger

꒰ L ꒱ relief

꒰ M ꒱ distrust

꒰ N ꒱ fondness

꒰ O ꒱ delight

꒰ P ꒱ hurt

꒰ Q ꒱ love

꒰ R ꒱ sickness

꒰ S ꒱ exhaustion

꒰ T ꒱ betrayal

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ a setting

꒰ 𓆉 ꒱ the corner bed in a hospital ward

꒰ 𓅨 ꒱ a spare bedroom

꒰ 𓆣 ꒱ an alleyway behind a dive bar

꒰ 𓃰 ꒱ a mountainside shrouded in fog

꒰ 𓃗 ꒱ a skeevy motel just off the highway

꒰ 𓃱 ꒱ a barren industrial plant in the middle of nowhere

꒰ 𓃟 ꒱ the lush, indulgent foyer of a member’s only club

꒰ 𓆟 ꒱ the war room of a military blacksite

꒰ 𓆈 ꒱ the produce aisle of a 24/7 supermarket

꒰ 𓅫 ꒱ the bedside of someone who doesn’t want you there

꒰ 𓅟 ꒱ the walk-in fridge of a failing restaurant

꒰ 𓃵 ꒱ a rickety old barn’s hayloft

꒰ 𓃓 ꒱ at work, far later than you should be

꒰ 𓆌 ꒱ a stranger’s bed at dawn

꒰ 𓆏 ꒱ an airplane hanger

꒰ 𓅭 ꒱ a medical bay that stinks of antiseptic and fear

꒰ 𓆗 ꒱ the kitchen of a derelict house

꒰ 𓃢 ꒱ the dressing room of a luxury department store

꒰ 𓆧 ꒱ the place where grassy plains meet desert dunes

꒰ 𓃔 ꒱ a beach at low tide

[astroellies]

˚༄࿔ taking care of ellie after patrol

inspired by @hundredandsix’s "crawl home to her"!

warnings! allusions to canon typical violence. angsty fluff that turns to just fluff?

when ellie opens the door to her garage she's quiet. no excited hey, baby. or call of your name.

she looks at you and her lips wobble. she lets you see a side of her she lets no one else, save for maybe joel, see. not tough, badass ellie, just a teenage girl in desperate need of comfort.

"hey, hey, it's okay. i'm here." you get up from your spot on her bed and wrap your arms around her. she sniffles and collapses into your touch, clinging to your middle.

you hold her for a while, rocking her as you two stand in the doorway.

"are you hurt?" you pull away to examine her, she's got blood splattered on her face but you can't tell if it's hers.

"just a bruise on my hip, i fell on some ice." she rubs at her eyes, either to try and brush away tears or from exhaustion.

“okay,” you push a stray piece of hair from her face, “you want me to run you a bath?”

“please.” she nods.

so you lead her into the small bathroom and sit her on the toilet to start the water. when you turn back to her she’s stripped her jacket and shirt, just leaving her in a sports bra. she’s leaned down to untie her shoes but the angle is clearly painful with her injury.

“i got it.” you say, already on your knees in front of her. you place her heel in your lap and pull at the knot of her shoelace.

“do you want to talk about it?” you ask, taking her shoe off and switching to the other foot.

she shrugs, “i don’t know, there’s nothing really to talk about. it’s just some runners that freaked me out. i don’t like when you can still tell they’re…people.”

“mhm,” you hum. she doesn’t need talking right now, just your comfort. it reassures her she’s not a bad person.

you stand to check on the bath and when you see it’s only halfway filled so you dampen a washcloth and take her chin in your hands. she looks up at you for a moment, olive eyes just watching you. they flutter close and you gently brush the cloth against her cheek to wipe away the blood. as you work you notice the furrow between her brows lessen. you finish and press a kiss to the mole under her left eye.

“bath’s ready, baby.” you tell her and she nods, eyes still closed.

you help her out of her sports bra and jeans and into the tub.

“is the temperature okay?”

“yeah, it’s good.” she looks dopey like she could fall asleep right then and there.

you get to work shampooing and conditioning her hair. this was always her favorite part, she loved when you played with her hair. whether it been when you two were cuddled up in her bed, hands scratching her scalp or when you cut her hair.

you take time to scrub the dried blood from underneath her nails. you catch her staring again.

“what?” you ask, trying to mask a shy smile.

“nothin’. i just love you,” she whispers, “no one else would do this for me, it’s nice.”

you grin like an idiot and pull her tattooed hand up to your lips. you kiss all over her forearm, up until where the moth ends.

you hand her a towel, “i’m gonna grab you some pjs i’ll be right back.”

when you return she’s drying her hair, very aggressively, with the towel.

“i actually don’t understand how you have such nice hair when you do things like that.” you say handing her a worn out shirt and boxers.

“like what?” she looks genuinely confused and you just shake your head giggle.

“never mind.” you take the damp towel from her and hang it up while she gets dressed. “want me to make you something to eat?”

“mmm like what?”

“spaghetti? i just picked some tomatoes from the greenhouses today.”

“that sounds so fucking good.”

and so you cook for her, and listen to her talk. a bit about patrol, how she and jesse wandered into a toy store that had loads of savage starlight trading cards and how she spotted a cardinal that made her think of you. she doesn’t tell you about anything else about the runners that upset her, but you figure she’ll tell you when she’s ready.

after she eats you two settle in her bed and turn on jurassic park but she’s so exhausted she barely makes it past the opening credits. but you don’t mind, as long as she’s safe and in your arms.

[etherealily]

same page? // f.odair

My other Finnick fics, if you have the time.

This was from my poll .

Finnick Odair + fem!reader. Warnings: Cuss words.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : Panem's most publicized situationship.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🌀⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

Make them speculate.

Make them wonder.

Distract them.

Entice them.

Convince them.

He tucked your hair behind your ear, kissing your temple as he did so. Your insides turned. "Are we on or off today?"

"He didn't say."

"Hm.", he murmured against your forehead. "It's up to us, then."

You took a sip of your champagne.

Listen, Finnick Odair was a fucking menace.

Seven years. Seven years of this shit.

"Do you never wonder what it'd be like if we actually did end up marrying each other?"

"The entire Capitol would burn down.", you scoffed softly, eyes running around the room.

"Snow would be pissed, for one. It's a will-they/won't-they until we do."

"Which we won't."

He pouted, shaking his head as he brought your hand to his chest. "You wound me."

Your whirlwind romance had swept Panem off its feet. According to their knowledge, you'd first met at a Post-Games party, after your first time as a mentor, and you couldn't keep your eyes off each other. Cue the mess.

On and off. Sometimes, never, and always. That was you and Finnick, in the eyes of Panem.

It wasn't exactly all false. In the beginning it really had just been you, Finnick, and a couple of nights that neither of you wished to label. But there was no sex, that was what was morbidly hilarious here. Just deep, drunken conversations.

In Panem, the most intimate thing you could do with someone was not sex, no, it was developing a true connection, and that's what had happened all those nights — what had scared you both.

So sue you if you didn't want to label that shit. It'd only end badly for the both of you.

Sure, Finnick might have thought he might, possibly, maybe want more. But that was only on late nights when he was watching the moon or nostalgic footage of District Four on the TV, but at the end of the day, both of you knew this decision was the best.

Toxic, definitely, but at the end of the day, although his long string of dalliances followed his reputation everywhere he went, he always came back to you.

Panem thought it was because no matter how twisted, he always loved you.

Snow thought Panem would like that.

You preferred that than actually discussing with him why he always came back.

"Off.", you replied.

"We've been 'off' too many times this year. Snow's going to freak."

He was right. "Fine. Is Caesar here?"

His eyes flicked around the room, scoping it out. "Yes."

You groaned. "He's going to lip read, then."

Caesar Flickerman was a dynamic host as well as an expert lip-reader. You'd only found that out on your second year of this charade, when Finnick had been talking to you about missing home - taboo topic around the Capitol - and Caesar had caught it.

All over the news the next day. He'd had to cover it up and say he meant you were his home. The Capitol went positively feral.

"Look at you, all sexy.", Finnick whispered, with his maddening smirk. "For me?"

"For me." He rolled his eyes. Wrong answer, his glare told you.

"Tell me, gorgeous.", he breathed, hands placed tantalizingly and strategically on your shoulders. "Do the cameras love you as much as I do?"

His iconic line. He'd come up with it three years ago, and it was a cop-out for when he was too tired to come up with any other segue, and besides, the Capitol loved it. It was basically code for you to chill out on the responses, because he was way too exhausted that day.

"Do the cameras love you as much as your family does? Or do you just live here, now? In the Capitol? In the limelight?"

Wait, what?

"I live in my district. Most of the year." The hell was he doing?

"Do you now, beautiful? And why is it you're always here?"

"Why are you always here?"

"Photo ops, of course. Snow needs his best out here all the time to make the Capitol as spectacular-looking as he needs.", he replied, eyes glistening.

"I'm here for the same reason."

"Yes, but you act like you don't give a shit where you are. Like you winning the Games was nothing. Like you being bestowed with riches - more than most, actually, because of the hot little outfits that you model- is nothing. Impassive, deadpan, nonchalant, innocent but too-cool-for-school Y/N.", he mocked.

No way was he actually letting anyone lip read this.

"Caesar's not here, is he?"

He chuckled, nodding. "You're right. I just needed an excuse for you to listen."

"I will not have you judge me."

"Let me kiss you, Y/N."

"What?"

"Please."

"I am not going to let you kiss me. We've got... we can't act as if we've had this conversation in private. It has to progress slowly. Every single moment of ours must be 'accidentally' captured, and jus—"

"Same page?"

He always asked you that before he did something he thought would get the cameras off your back for a couple weeks.

"No! No, no, not this time, what?", you hissed through gritted teeth, doing your damndest to work on your ventriloquism skills.

He rolled his eyes, his lips moving to your cheek. "Let. Me. Kiss. You. I swear, you'll understand."

Finnick's knuckles on your jaw, he tilted his head, as if to say 'come on, I'm already this close'.

You acquiesced.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours, before murmuring against them. "Kill Snow with me."

You didn't pull away, you didn't push him away, you didn't frown, you didn't scream. You just froze.

"Johanna— everyone, basically, is on board.", he said, in between kisses to your unresponsive lips. "And the Mockingjay. She... god, Y/N, please, I can tell you're two seconds away from killing me, but please—."

His kisses kept growing more feverish by the second, his hands cupping your face and using it to pull you closer. It was getting increasingly hard to ascertain whether he was addicted to your lips or the words he was corrupting them with.

"Finnick, Finnick, wait—"

"Please, please, Y/N." He was begging. He was pleading. "Just... shh."

"I'm not — stop.", you hissed, and he begrudgingly pulled away, though his lips lingered on your neck. "I'm not going to kill anyone. Not Snow, not you— though I should probably kill you for this. What if you're mic'd? Snow's done that befor—"

"You wouldn't be doing any of the killing, my love.", he smiled against your neck, his hands pulling you flush against his body, and something told you it wasn't even because this whole conversation was supposed to be a secret anymore.

He was drunk. You'd only seen Finnick drunk a couple times - the nights that had led you two to being friends (?) and being spotted talking (obviously fucking, according to the Capitol) - but it had never been this bad. He'd always had some form of control over his faculties.

"Finnick, there's cameras right now, we can't—"

"I'm in love with you, Y/N, more than the cameras."

One good thing about Finnick was that his words never slurred when he was psychotically, unforgivably inebriated. They simply hastened.

"Okay, Finnick, I'll get you back to your—"

"Like so much, and I—"

Before he could say something that could be picked up by the cameras around you and analysed by Caesar, you shook your head, covering his mouth with your palm.

He frowned, making unintelligible noises against your hand.

You rested your forehead against his as you whispered. "We'll talk about this later. Get some rest."

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🌀⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

Hours later, you knocked lightly on the door to his room before walking in gingerly.

He lay down, looking up at the ceiling as though it had every answer he could possibly need.

"Finnick?"

"I'm... a failure."

Shit. "Now, Finnick, remember what you have to do when you think like this? Think of your family. Who you're protecting."

"Oh, my god, princess, it's not himself he's disappointed at."

Johanna motherfucking Mason.

"Johanna?"

"In the flesh. But I won't be for long if you don't listen.", she reminded, elbow on her knee.

You closed the door behind you, locking it as you turned on the light. "You're in on this? It's crazy talk!"

"It's a rebellion. It supposed to sound out-there until you actually do it.", she snorted, hopping off the bay window and stretching.

"It's that District 12 Victor, isn't it? Everdeen-something? She's got you guys all riled up."

"Katniss Everdeen, yes. The Mockingjay."

"Jesus, you guys are all fuckwits."

"C'mon, baby, that's no way to be. I thought you were the polite, innocently sexy one? The one who could never even call someone stupid, let alone a fuckwit.", she pouted.

"Snow will kill everyone you've ever loved."

"He already is. Except it's slower, torturous. This way, we're nipping it at the bud so our kids don't have to go through this bullshit again. What about, uh, you two?", she teased, raising a brow as she gestured between you and a plastered Finnick groaning the headache away. "Your cute little Capitol-bred lovechild will still be made to go through the Games. You don't want that, huh?"

You groaned, yanking open the bedside drawer supply of water bottles, passing it over to him. "Jo."

She raised a brow, sitting next to you. "Y/N."

"You can't kill Snow."

"Watch me, sweetheart."

"Jo, this isn't even funny. She lucked out, alright? Katniss, you said her name was? She lucked out big time. Snow's seething. He's seething, and—"

"We know."

"Lie back down, Finnick, you're drunk."

"I'm hungover. This was a big deal for me, okay? I was nervous you'd react just like this and jeopardize it all, okay? Needed liquid courage. Cut me some slack."

"I'm leaving. I'm not going to fucking sit here and listen to you talk about a rebellion when the Capitol's at their strongest and Snow's at his angriest, it's your funer—"

"You're going back into the Arena!"

You paused at the doorway, your fingers on the frame like it was your only tether to reality. "What?"

"Heavensbee. He told us that the Quarter Quell will reap previous Victors."

"What?"

"Snow wants - needs - Katniss dead."

Your attempts to force breath to stay in your lungs proved futile when you realized exactly what that meant. "You guys are going to try protecting her?"

"We have to."

"No, actually, you don't. Finnick, please don't tell me you're going to volunteer if you aren't reaped."

He groaned, rubbing his face over his hands as he sat up. "There's one chance, and this is it. She is it."

Good lord, you were fucking surrounded by idiots.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🌀⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

The moon was the only beauty you'd found in the Capitol.

Finnick had taught you to look at it. Especially when you were scared. Worried. Or feeling nothing. Or feeling everything. Or feeling too many things.

It worked, actually, but this time, you looked at the moon, and all you could remember was when eighteen-year-old Finnick pointed the moon out to newly-sixteen-year-old you.

"Beautiful, right?"

"Yes."

"Do you know it controls the tides?"

"What?"

"Yeah. That was my reaction when I first heard it, too!", he'd whispered. "It's your sweet sixteen, right? So just go ahead and pray that the tides change. Wish on the moon."

"Tides change?"

"You know, that this whole 'we're-in-love-spiel' can stop."

This had been the first ever year of this goldmine of a plotline for Capitol TV.

"I want to go home."

You'd said that some three times the past couple hours, but you knew Snow wouldn't let you do so.

"I know. Wish on the moon that you can do that, too. Wish on the moon you can spend all of your birthdays with the people you love. Well, besides me, of course.", he'd grinned, nudging your shoulder to make you laugh. "Just wish on the moon."

You'd closed your eyes to do just that.

"It'll take care of the rest.", he'd whispered.

Sweetest boy on Earth, he was back then.

Right now? Ugh. You wished on the moon that he'd get a brain.

A knock.

"What?!" Fine, snapping may not have been the best thing for you to be doing, as your blood pressure was already terrifyingly high.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, Finnick. Sure. Come in.", you mumbled, rubbing at your forehead.

"I... I can't even begin to apologise. Um... that was—"

"No, it's fine, you're good, it's wh—"

"No, that was... there is no excuse for that. Springing all that on you, and giving you all but five seconds to... I— I don't even know what I was thinking."

"Johanna got in your head, it happens.", you shrugged, watching as he frowned, sitting down opposite you on your bed, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. Huh. Your tone was understanding, but your words gave him pause.

"Same page?"

"I'd say we are."

"I don't know.", he muttered, picking at his knuckles for a second before turning to you. "Are you with us?"

"Okay, we're not on the same page."

"I thought not."

"Finnick, this is madness. Snow is at his angriest because he got his ass handed to him by two kids from District Twelve. Twelve. Like...", you scoff-laughed, gesturing wildly to illustrate the sheer bizarrity of the situation. "That shit doesn't happen every day. He's got us both going on more calls because the Patrons need to be pacified. Hell, he's now planning to send us all back into the Arena?!"

"Exactly! Don't you think it's enough?"

"What? Finnick—"

"Enough bloodshed, Y/N, please! Yeah, we're Careers, but when has that ever meant we were safe from the bullshit of the Capitol? Hm?"

"This isn't about us being Careers. It's about the fact that you could die!"

"We're going to anyway! It's like Johanna said! He's killing us slowly! We won't be able to live with ourselves once we're old and not wanted anymore!"

"FINNICK!"

"What?!"

"The first rebellion caused the Hunger Games. What the fuck do you think a second rebellion is going to bring? Hm? Mass genocide of the Districts? An arena with even younger kids? Every rebel and their families becoming Avoxes?! Are you fucking insane?!"

He paused at that. Silence. Good. At least he wasn't deluded enough not to consider the probability of failure.

You stared at him for a little while, before sighing. He wasn't weak, far from it, but you had just violently burst his bubble, the only thing he probably had going for him. And it must have been huge -and have been on his mind for a long time, a perfectly formulated plan that he was very excited about - seeing as he hadn't said anything to you.

He had a habit of doing that.

He never wanted to give you anything that wasn't just perfect.

He'd brought you back this seashell one time. From District Four. It had taken about five months for him to find the perfect one, with the best weight, the best colour, shape, texture, girth, whole shebang.

He stored your return-gift of a trident - you were masonry and weaponry district, after all - in a literal vault in District 4, until you gave him a tiny charm-version. He wore that around his neck.

Another time, he'd decided he'd write you his impression of your district from his Victory Tour. But that day, he'd been incredibly nervous, so he didn't look anywhere but his feet, and oh, how they longed to be home! In the sand, with waves kissing at his heels.

He figured he'd pretend he'd seen you in the crowd, all those years ago. In reality, you'd have only been about twelve, though you were raised above your parent's heads, so it was possible he could have seen you.

He hadn't, though.

For the case of this very humble birthday present, however, he pretended like he did. He took the wildest guess he could, that your hair was not tied up that day, and began to talk of your home.

How lovely everything had seemed.

How excited you looked.

You loved it. You really had. And he loved that you loved it.

And this whole rebellion thing was no different. He knew you'd be reluctant, but he also knew you'd secretly pray on the success of it, and he'd meticulously spent ages going through everything, every single thing, to make sure it was absolutely perfect for you, to make sure you could never call it anything but the best gift you'd ever gotten.

This, though? This argument had thrown him for a loop. You had a point. One he hadn't thought of.

"I'm—", you sighed once more, shaking your head. "Hey, I'm sorry, I... that was harsh."

He bit the inside of his bottom lip. "Mm."

"Finnick, I really am."

"Yeah, I know. I just... what if we don't fail, though?"

Wish(on the moon)ful thinking.

"Then great. But is that a chance you really want to take?"

"What if it is?" It's quiet in your room, and his response is almost engulfed in the silence, but you manage to catch it.

"Don't you think that's what the First Rebels thought?"

You were just dynamite today, weren't you? Finnick loved it when you were like this, but a tiny bit less when it was directed against him.

At least he knew he was an inch closer to receiving your amazing hugs.

"Yeah. Yeah, no, for sure."

You nodded softly, and then he kissed you.

And once more, corruption blossomed on your lips. "But you're deluded if you think when we're in that arena, I'm letting you kill Katniss."

"I won't have to if my theory is right."

"What theory?", he scoffed against your lips, pulling you closer as his hands crept up into your hair.

"That Snow will do things specifically to kill Katniss, and the only way anything will ever work is if you, I dunno, find a way to save Katniss and yourself and Peeta and Joha—"

"We're hacking into the arena."

He really hated kissing you when you didn't reciprocate, but he had to for the next few seconds when you froze, before pulling you away. "What?"

"We're... I can't tell you, but we've got District 3 in on it, they're going to get a wire and basically, like—"

"What, blow up the arena? Are you sure you're feeling okay? Are you still hungover?", you asked, placing your palm on his forehead.

He rolled his eyes, taking it in his and kissing it once. "I promise, I am perfectly fine. And yes, we have a solid plan—"

"Holy shit, this is what you meant by 'the Capitol Patrons give me information' ? I figured it was about the next Games, so you could help your tributes win, not... fuck, Finnick! This is treason!"

"I DON'T GIVE A SHIT!"

You glared at him as he stood in sheer fury. "I'm sorry for yelling."

Wow. Sweetest boy on earth and you'd made him miserable. How do you do it?

"It's alright."

"I don't care that it's treason, alright? But we need to end this bullshit. Okay? So I will ask you for the last ever time, Y/N, because you know that whatever you say next will affect whether we see each other again. Are you with us?"

You licked your lips, picking at the duvet. "Can I have some time?"

"Reaping Day."

"Reaping Day?"

"Reaping Day. I'm not even kidding."

Yeah, he almost never was.

Fuck.

"I'll tell you by Reaping Day."

"Okay."

He didn't leave. It was a long moment of either meeting or vehemently avoiding each others eyes.

"I'm sorry about the yelling.", he repeated.

"You're not volunteering."

"What?" He was halfway out the door when you said it, and he was this close to slamming it.

"If you're not reaped, you take it as the odds being in your favor and shut up. Alright?"

He turned to you, slamming the door and leaning on it with crossed arms. Incredulity painted his face. "Are you kidding me?"

"No."

"Who are you to order me around? Fucking Snow?"

"I'm—"

"Who?! My on-screen-propaganda-lover?!"

That stung more than you'd expected it to.

"Fine. Fuck you! Go ahead and volunteer. Like a fucking dumbass. Go get yourself killed because you can't handle the truth! This is how it is and how it'll always be!"

"It doesn't have to!"

"Yeah, tell that to District 13!"

"Oh, if only you fucking knew!"

"Knew what?! That your half-baked 'plan' is bound to fail?!"

"If you're such a fucking loyalist, go tell Snow the big 'half-baked' plan!"

"Maybe I will!"

"Yeah, go! Go right now, scurry off, become the fearless Savior of Panem, the title of the Most Loyal goes to you!"

You stood, attempting to shoulder past him, but honestly, you should've known better. He grabbed your arm. "If you're going, stay on your knees in front of him so we can shoot you in the back of your head when we storm the Capitol." Pretty picture he could paint, you'd give him that. He could paint a dazzling romance and a grisly murder all just with words.

"That's if you do it. You won't."

"Yeah? Watch us."

You mirrored his clenched jaw. "Let. Go."

"You don't like me holding you?", he asked, tilting his head in mock curiosity.

"No."

"In the Snow regime, in the Capitol, sweetheart, that word has no meaning.", he spat.

"Does treason? Does murder? Does anarchy?"

"Snow gave you a comprehensive list of his favourite vocabulary, how cute."

"Oh, fuck off, Finnick, alright? Let go."

"Are you with us?" He shook your arm.

"No!"

"Are you with us?" More desperation this time. But he knew you, and his eyes held a calm that suggested he knew exactly where your heart lay. With him. With the idea of a free Panem.

"I'm not!"

"ARE YOU WITH US?!", he snapped, finally yelling once more.

"YES!"

The silence had snuck back in unnannounced.

"This is why I love you. You're a fucking trip."

Great. You were not only having to play an innocent, his lover and now a rebel, but you were also, evidently, to play jester for him, since he thought you were so fucking amusing.

"Do the cameras love you as much as I do?"

Oh, my god, he was being funny now, was he?

"Don't die.", you scoffed.

"Not if you won't. Same page?"

You scrambled to come up with a plan. Rig District 4's reaping? Fucking how? Beg Heavensbee for a glimpse into the arena? You barely knew if he was actually on your side, no matter how much Finnick seemed to trust him. Tell Snow and not include Finnick or Johanna or Katniss or — okay, too many variables. Oh! Wait! When he was busy protecting Katniss in the arena, you'd be busy protecting him. Okay. Could work. Right, okay.

He kissed your temple, looking down at you expectantly. He had no idea what he'd do if you hated his gift. "Right.", he muttered, after a little while of watching you play with the hem of his shirt. "I gave you till Reaping Day."

You nodded, and he whistled lowly, looking out at the window, his eyes brightening. "But... you know it's Full Moon Day today.", he grinned.

So you two sat there watching the moon for... quite a while, actually.

Wishing that the other would just fucking listen for once.

Finnick Odair was a fucking menace.

But he was also the sweetest boy you knew.

So, if you had to be on the same page, you would be.

"Same page.", you affirmed, finally, when it got too late and his hands went slack around your shoulder, and your eyes started getting heavy. You were truly, in entire honesty, unable to fathom a future where the rebellion worked and Panem was free.

But your plan was at least still intact. No matter how this clearly poorly thought out rebellion went.

At least, with your plan, he'd be alright, either way.

At least he'd live.

[slaymitchabernathy]

coriolanus snow definitely has this cup.

[voxslays]

BELLY BULGE — SQUID GAMES MEN

GONG-YOO (THE SALESMAN)

✮ How many rounds has it been tonight? Your clouded mind can’t even recall. The only thing you can think of is the way Gong Yoo’s hips slam into yours.

✮ The salesman’s perfect hair is unusually messy tonight, soaked with sweat. You cant help but cry into the pillow as he places his hand on your stomach, feeling himself pump in and out of you.

✮ The enigmatic recruiter says nothing as he rams you into the softness of your shared bed. Just a little bit longer, you convince yourself, pleasure clouding your thoughts. Although, you know damn well he could keep going for hours.

✮ “I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

THANOS (CHOI SU-BONG)

✮ “Such a pretty flower.” Thanos grunts as he roughly pumps his length in and out of your gummy walls. You couldn’t help but moan at the roughness in his voice.

✮ “Just a bit longer, Señorita.” Is what he had convinced you over forty five minutes ago. You weren’t sure how many more orgasms you could take from him tonight.

✮ Hearing your desperation, Thanos places his hand on your lower stomach and presses in, feeling himself. He groans at the sensation, deciding to pick up more speed. By the time Thanos is done with you, your thoughts are only filled with images of him.

✮ “A little longer, pretty flower.”

KANG DAE-HO

✮ It had only been two rounds. You were keeping count. Yet, you were surprised you could remember anything at all with the way Dae-ho’s slow and deep thrusts pierced your hole.

✮ His hands were roaming all over your body, telling you how beautiful you were—until he suddenly just stopped, his hand placed on your bulged tummy.

✮ Dae-ho slowly pumps out, just realizing what that bulge was, surprising both you and himself. He groans. “Let’s go for a couple more, okay baby?” He says sweetly, grabbing your hips gently. His hand was still placed on your tummy, and it would stay there.

✮ “You feel so good, baby.”

[pacofprunes]

Most likely to slap reader during an argument.

Thanos

Nam gyu

Hwang inho

Myung gyi

_💐

warnings — domestic abuse, crying mentions, drugs mentioned, withdraws mentioned, short one for inho

1. thanos

when he’s off the drugs i actually think myung-gi would be more likely to and would be number one, however, thanos pupils are huge the entire series, so i’m just basing it off of that.

i think pestering him in arguments is the quickest way for this to happen. if it’s a short argument, he’s just going to yell at you. however, if it’s a longer argument and he thinks you’re pestering him and treating him like a child and you’re close to him and keep following him around, he’s quick to just swing his hand out without a second thought and after the fact he still will stand there angry and upset. it’s not until when he steps away and has a few minutes to himself that he realizes his mistake or until he sees a red mark littering your cheek that he realizes what he’s done. and even then he doesn’t immediately apologize to you. if he’s high he’ll give you a half assed apology.

“baby, i’m sorry, i’ll make it up to you.” while caressing the side of your cheek. now on the rare occasion that he’s not high, he’ll stare at you in absolute shock after he realizes before immediately pulling you into a hug. in that hug it’s like he’s not breathing. it’s like after yong-sik and his mom meet after a round of the mingle game, yong-sik staring into space almost, eyes wide open, tears slowly spilling over his eyes as his mom hugs him before he breaks down apologizing over and over.

that’s what thanos does. just a little less extreme where a few tears might slip and he slowly squeezes you tighter, afraid you’ll slip out of his grasp. mumbling sorrys that you can barely comprehend because he’s holding in a cry so his words start cracking apart, threatening to let out a giant sob once you squeeze him tighter and he starts to feel his chest getting wet with your tears and hearing your own sobs. he wanted to promise you and himself that he would never do this to you again, but thanos always made promises that he couldn’t keep.

2. myung-gi

i think if you pester him a lot (aka try talking things out like a couple should) he would also be more likely to hit you like thanos, but i think he just gets more agitated in general. he’s already a pretty toxic guy to have as a boyfriend, he’s not going to draw the line at hitting. he doesn’t want to push it to that point, it’s not intentional, it just sort of happens…

it starts with him starting to manhandle you, pulling you by your wrist like you’re a doll if you piss him off in public. when you’re plain out arguing you notice he starts to practically rip out his own hair now, his fingernails digging into his palms. the moment he strikes you he doesn’t look at you, he either just walks away, still fuming, cursing under his breath, or he just continues to argue with you, not truly caring for what he did.

honestly, he has zero plans on actually apologizing to you. he’ll either just go on with his day, talk to you like nothing happened the night before or he’ll give you a small gift without officially saying that it’s his way of apologizing. he has a pretty big amount of pride and he will not apologize unless you threaten to leave for a couple days or leave him forever.

“you’re being dramatic! sorry? okay? is that what you want to hear?”

or

“don’t be so irrational. i’m sorry. can you just move on now? i have.”

he can be a good boyfriend but if you go down this route with him, he’s not going back to how you guys used to be, and you can expect to have a red sting on your cheek for quite awhile. he’s not proud of what he did and he doesn’t enjoy hurting you, and deep down he is sorry, but he’s not going to tell you that unless you force him to. he doesn’t wanna lose you, but his pride is way too high. if you don’t want him anymore all because of a ‘dumb mistake’ he’ll restart with someone new who’s not as ‘sensitive’ and ‘dramatic’ as you.

3. nam-gyu

it was pretty hard to choose between nam-gyu and inho/youngil but i think due to drugs and stress, he’s a lot more likely to do so than him.

i don’t believe he would ever hit you if he wasn’t high. however, if he’s using or he’s going through withdraws and you get into an argument with him, there’s zero hesitation before his hand goes up to your face. the argument doesn’t have to be a long one for this to happen either, you both could get two words out and then it’ll just happen. but despite being high and not in his right mind, he would immediately grab your face with both of his hands, eyes wide, rubbing his hand over the red forming on your cheek before pulling you into a hug and pushing your face into his neck, holding the back of your head and rubbing his hands over your hair. the whole time his eyes are wide open, tears flowing like a waterfall out of his eyes while he tries to shush your own, his words shaky and his lips quivering. struggling to get any words out.

“baby, oh—oh m’-my god. i’m so sorry, sh, please don’t cry, m’ so sor—sor..ry’..”

he could hold you there with your head in the crook of his neck and on his shoulder forever. every time he feels the spot dampen he just grips you tighter and tighter, more and more apologies coming out of his mouth. the next day he’d immediately make you breakfast (despite not being the best at cooking) and he’d immediately shower you with love and kisses. it wasn’t just for you, but it was for his own state of mind as well. he genuinely thought he was going to die after what he’d just done to you. it only gave him more motivation to stop using. he didn’t want to hurt you ever again. he wouldn’t hurt you ever again.

4. inho / youngil

i can’t actually see him hitting you but if and when he does he will apologize immediately after. pulling you into a side hug and rubbing your back. he assures you he’s very sorry and then he kind of just moves on and tries laughing it off. arguing with him in general feels like he’s trying to treat you like a child. he always just brushes arguments off and laughs it off, sometimes even saying that maybe you need to rest or lay down, you’ve probably just had a long day and that’s why you’re so upset. it only makes you angrier with him, causing you to just raise your voice even more, stepping closer and closer to him and that’s when it just happens.

“i’m sorry baby, you just pushed me a little. it’s okay though.” and then he moves on like nothing happened. honestly the way he says it makes it seem like he’s insinuating that it’s your fault and you two never mention it again. it always lingers with you though, but the second after it happened it was as if he just forgot. in fact to him, it never even happened.

[crescenthistory]

Haunt Me, Then

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Synopsis: The Hunger Games AU; After your best friend miraculously won his games, you were never to see him again – until your last Reaping as an eligible citizen ends catastrophically for you and another one of your friends.

Words: 6.1k

Warnings/tags: fem!reader, us of y/n, Hunger Games typical warnings, grief, implied loss, heavy hurt/comfort, talk of death and poverty, Capitol Citizen!Bellatrix Lestrange, same for barty sorry, angst, some fluff, childhood best friends (to lovers), physical affection, unwanted physical touches, creepy Capitol behaviour, heavy disassociation, strategically used characters, background bsf!marylene, implied that sirius got the finnick odair treatment, nb! it's a thg au but not thg canon compliant (aka i make the rules here)

A/N: this is sooooo exciting to me. your district is only implied (district 7) in this one and there are a lot of purposefully unresolved threads 🌝 there's more to come, if you want it. and yes – the title is from the wuthering heights quote "you said i killed you – haunt me, then"

Part Two

You hated Reaping day for more reasons than most.

While no person, whether they are of eligible age or not, enjoyed being in that town square annually, watching the Capitol representatives clown away on stage as your heart and ears thundered with anticipatory fear, you were left with the biting pain of the past, present and future all at the same time.

Stood in a sea of people, feeling both as if you were drowning and had a spotlight shining on you, you feared for yourself. You writhed beneath the thought of how many times your name had gone into that bowl in an attempt at keeping your loved ones safe, you winced at the knowledge that it would be just the perfect karmic timing for you to have everything taken from you this one last time.

Clutching onto Mary’s trembling fingers with one hand and Marlene’s little sister, Mabel, with the other, you feared for your loved ones. Your makeshift found family now consisted of the McKinnons, the McDonalds, the Pettigrews and you – and you could not bear the thought of how many of you were jammed into the plaza today. Marlene and her older siblings had aged out, but you, Mary and Peter were still in for your last year. Your mouth ran dry at the thought of how many years Mabel and the McKinnon and Pettigrew boys had left. Children. They were all just children – the very reason why you all kept consistently placing your own name in over and over again, to keep them safe. While you could never decide if you trusted the legitimacy of the arrangement that you could covertly buy someone’s immunity by placing your name in more times, you also could never help but try each year.

Thus far, it had worked. Mabel had at least never been picked. 

But then again, you knew of at least one person who was picked despite their supposed immunity. Odd how the guilt always forced your hand regardless; the risk was worth the potential reward.

You could feel Mabel’s breaths grow shuddering beside you, but could not bring yourself to look down at her. You just wrapped an arm around her shoulders and shoved away the doomsday feelings brewing within your chest.

You felt guilty for even fearing for yourself, because you knew well how out of everyone, your name was in there probably the least amount of times. Apart from buying the immunity of one of your friends’ siblings, you had never needed to buy anything with tickets of your name. You had been financially looked out for to a much larger degree than most could dream, and not had your hand forced. At first, the help came through the direct acts of kindness from your best friend, and then later, you would somehow just always find exactly what you needed. Whenever the Capitol increased ridiculous taxes that felt as if they were specifically designed to wring you dry, there would be a freshly opened position for you to apply for, a wad of cash found in one of the boxes you looked through, even a charity basket by your door that you would always pass on to the rowdy McKinnon home. 

Part of you could hear his whispered promise to you whenever these blessings seemingly fell into your lap, but you pushed it down. It couldn’t be.

“I will always take care of you, princess”.

Above all else, being in the town square tore up your heart because you could only ever think of him. Of Sirius.

Of that day 5 years ago, when you had just started breathing normally after they called some girl’s name you did not know in the Reaping, only for your lungs to be ripped from you permanently at the sound of the reaped boy.

The second “Regulus Arcturus Black” boomed through the scratching speakers, your heart was shattered into a million pieces, never to be recovered, because it was followed up by a small yet firm: “I volunteer.”

When your head whipped to the side to witness your best friend in the whole world square himself against his inevitable death, you had found his sad grey eyes already fixed on you through the massive sea of bodies. You have no recollection of the sounds after that, but you know you were protesting, crying, trashing even, in the firm grip of Marlene as she forced you into a bear hug to stop you from trying to be a human shield for the one person you could not stomach losing. The sight of Sirius kissing Regulus’ head and squeezing Peter's arm before taking to the stage, shoulders squared and jaw lifted, already looking every bit like a child warrior, was burned into your retinas.

It took years before it was not the first image you saw whenever you closed your eyes. It still sometimes was.

That day, you had been certain your best friend was lost. When they let his loved ones bid him a quick goodbye in a solitary room after the ceremony, you had stood to the back with your hiccuping sobs, allowing Regulus the space you knew he needed. Marlene and Mary passed through, so did Peter, until it was just you left.

His parents did not show up.

While Sirius had kept up the facade with the others, his face crumbled when it met yours in your momentary privacy – save the Peacekeepers by the door. You had been hugging your front to keep from falling apart, but the second he slumped back against the desk and opened his arms for you, you were wrapped up in them.

At just 13 and 14 you were each other’s worlds. Grown up as neighbors, surviving just about everything together.

And it was because he was just 14 that you had no belief he could survive the games – at that point, no 14 year old had, and no matter how strong Sirius Black was, it took more than strength to break through that harrowing cycle.

Sirius had let his first few tears slip and fall into your hair, holding onto you for dear life. You can’t remember what you said anymore, just the way he smelled, just the way he held you and the murmurs he whispered into your skin as he swayed you.

“I’m sorry, I had to. You’re wonderful. I love you. You’ll be okay. I love you.”

You hoped to the gods you had said it back.

Though you did not know that then, you had been correct. Your best friend was lost that day – but he survived his games. 

It had been a torturous few months, forced to see him paraded around like a piece of meat, only to suffer through one of the longest games anyone had seen. You had sworn you would not watch it, but could not resist taking a peek at a small screen you snuck into your bedroom, crying as you caressed his dirtied face that looked so void of the Sirius you knew. Sometimes he would find a nearby camera and stare into it as he fell asleep, almost as if he could actually see you, feel your touch. You hoped it comforted him; that thought had you returning to the screen almost every night. The only nights you didn’t were the ones where you and Regulus slept in the same bed to keep each other sane, tethered.

When you two eventually woke up to the news that he managed to outlast the final tribute overnight, you cried until you laughed only to laugh until you cried.

On the day of Sirius’ return, you had made everything ready; dusted his room, bought the ingredients for his favourite dessert, orchestrated for his parents to be elsewhere, planned what to say with Regulus, who was equally as teary. Except when the Capitol Carriage swept up by the entrance and you ran out to greet him, only Peacekeepers exited the carriage, forcing you to step back. The blinds of the carriage were shut. 

You stumbled, entirely bewildered by the situation, sharing deeply concerned looks with Regulus. You had tried shouting for Sirius, you had tried asking the Peacekeepers, but you were left with nothing but silence.

While you were dumbfounded, Regulus grew agitated. With months worth of guilt piling up, it was easy work for them to bubble over into anger; he pushed past the Peacekeepers to try and bang on the wall of the carriage, yanking on the locked door handle. His screams of Sirius' name were cut off in an instant when the Head Peacekeeper slammed the back of his rifle against Regulus' neck. He lurched, tried to regain his footing, before he crumbled to the ground.

Acting more on instinct than anything else, you dragged him off to the side and held him tight to your chest, as if that would protect him. With an unconscious Regulus in your lap, you were forced to watch them carry down all of Sirius’ belongings, packed haphazardly in bags, and shove them into the back of the carriage. 

It drove off without you ever even catching a glimpse of Sirius. 

The next time you saw him was a few days later, on a broadcasted interview where he announced his permanent move to the Capitol. Clad in shining black clothes that could have fed the entirety of Districts 11 and 12, he had taken on the persona of the Casanova of the Capitol, the goading gladiator, the wicked victor. At just 14, he had made history.

The day after that, Regulus disappeared without any warning or trace. 

All you had was a seemingly private note slipped beneath your pillow that said “Don’t go looking” – you never told anyone about it. No one seemed willing to talk about him either. You were left completely and utterly alone. 

Grief settled into your veins, and you did the only thing you could: you settled into routine. Sweet, hard-working routine to keep your storms at bay until you had made some sort of life for yourself. With one job as a wooden toy carver and another as a wood sculptor, not to mention the dinner rotation at the McKinnons and the Pettigrews, you kept busy. You could pretend to forget.

Until you couldn’t. Each year when you were forced into that town square, the memories haunted you viciously, cruelly – taunting you with how little you understood, how much time had passed. Beneath it all, there was a simmering of the one emotion you never could get rid of in the grief and confusion; love. It was the singular thing that powered all within you, ranging from the determination to the resentment. Oh, how you loathed how much you loved and missed your Black brothers.

You felt Mabel jump beside you at the crackle of the sound system, as the new Capitol representatives got ready to commence the Reaping. You shared a quick glance with Mary, acknowledging how the younger girl had to be your priority right now.

“It’s alright, Bel,” you whispered, shifting to hold her tighter against your side. “That sound means it’s almost over. Soon we’re done.”

Mary squeezed your own hand in return, almost as if to say take your own advice. You smiled meekly at her, and she rewarded you for your efforts by momentarily placing her forehead on your shoulder.

The younger girl just buried herself into you and you sighed to make yourself softer. It was her second Reaping, which meant it was far from her last. You understood her fear well, but still, you wanted to quell it.

The further the representatives got into their speeches, the longer the same old video droned on for, the more you disappeared from the current moment. It was hard to differentiate between past and present in these few heavy minutes, so you preferred to be in neither, to float up and out of your body. The only thing grounding you was your two friends pressed up against you, and that was all you needed. Nothing they could say up there was of any meaning to you except those two harrowed names.

Sirius never attended the Reapings the way some of the other victors did. They would line up at the front, on occasion even make speeches themselves, but never Sirius. He had yet to be a mentor, but you knew that victors were supposed to have a meeting of sorts before each game, where one of them was selected for the year. You often found yourself wondering where that meeting took place, if it was at the Capitol or nearby, if you unknowingly were standing just a couple hundred metres from him where he waited backstage or on the train.

A part of you hoped to never find out. A part of you hoped to never be near him again.

Most of you knew that was a poisonous lie.

These were thoughts you promptly pushed away. They did you no good – it had been made clear to you that you were not to think of the noble victor Sirius Black anymore.

The muscles in your back tensed tighter, shoulders hiking higher and higher the longer into the speeches the Capitol representatives got. Knowing that a name was soon to be pulled, yet you kept yourself disconnected.

Almost over, almost over.

The sudden outburst of sound and emotion around you – cries of relief, gasps of shock, whispered reactions – alerted you to the fact that a name had been called.

However, it was Mary’s loud sob and her face turning towards yours with nothing short of horror written over it that told you it was someone you knew.

One glance up into her grieving eyes told you that no, it was– it was you.

After so many years of just barely dodging it, you had been reaped. You were reaped. You were reaped. If your thoughts mere moments before had been a cloud, dragging you up above the crowd, they now became an anchor, cementing your feet to the ground.

“Mary…” you began, but were cut off by a static crackle.

“Y/N L/N? Come now love, don’t be scared.” The glee and excitement in the Capitol woman’s voice was nauseating, but it did kick you into action – and everyone else around you too, as the crowd seemed to separate to form a physical beacon on where the three of you stood, pressed together.

Your body moved on instinct; it was as if you were possessed by Sirius’ memory, pulling Mabel's crying form against you and kissing her head much like he had done with Regulus, squeezing Mary’s shoulder with a tight-lipped smile much like he had done with Peter. Ignoring your heart and mind screaming through sobs and anger, you released yourself from both of their grips to walk down the metaphorical red carpet leading up towards the stage. Chin tilted up, face schooled into nothingness. Eyes burning at the lights that suddenly shone upon you, fighting to keep from squinting. Forcing the tremble away from your fingers by balling them up into fists as you began to ascend the steps to the stage. 

“There we are, darling,” the male Capitol representative, who you had yet to bother learning the name of, essentially cooed at you, reaching out a hand for you to take.

You walked past it and assumed the position to the right of them both, staring emptily into the air. 

He chuckled in a low, menacingly lilting tone. “Okay, well, we can see what kind of tribute we just selected, can’t we, Bella?”

“We sure can, Barty,” the woman, Bella, replied with a gleaming smile. “As for her comrade in arms…” she trailed off for dramatic effect before dipping her fingers with their ridiculously long and sharp nails down into the pot.

From a distance, it was easier to distort the sounds of their voices. Now up close, you couldn’t help but hear every word passing between the two representatives, no matter how loud the screaming in your own head was.

No. No, no, no, no.

“... Peter Pettigrew!” Bella shouted cheerily, with a screeching joy that all but punctured your eardrums.

No. 

You squeezed your eyes shut from the first syllable, fighting the shaking taking over your body. Heavily, your shoulders slumped and your face began to fall at the revelation, before you scrambled for any and every piece of strength in your body to square up once again and face the literal sound of the music.

Deep breaths. 

In the corner of your eye, you saw him climb the stairs to stand beside you. For only a brief second, you dared glance over, only to see the pure terror written all over Peter’s face, only to immediately regret it and whip your face forward again. You knew in your heart that you were not making it out of these games – and unlike with Sirius, the feeling settled like wings on your shoulders instead of rocks. If you were honest, you knew Peter would likely not either, but you could at least fight for him, in the hope that he would.

The man Bella had called Barty came up behind you both and placed a strikingly cold hand on your shoulders, twisting you to face one another. It was custom to shake hands with your fellow tribute, but for the Capitol representatives to lay hands on you like this was certainly not. You fought back the urge to shake it off.

“Now if the tributes may shake hands,” Barty said with a wicked grin, speaking loudly enough for the microphone a metre away to pick up on it – thus too loudly. “And may the odds be ever in your favour.”

Peter’s hand was trembling with such force that he could barely move it away from his body. With a quick sideway glance at the cameras, you reached forward to grab it, steadying it even as you shook it. Peter could not meet your gaze, and not a single part of you could hold it against him; you merely squeezed his hand reassuringly. That had to be enough for now.

As soon as you let go, Bella closed the Reaping Ceremony with a flourish. 

You kept your chin elevated and your gaze empty as you began to move, lest it meet any of your friends and family in the many separated crowds. You weren’t sure if you would be able to keep it up if your eyes locked with Mary’s parents, with Peter’s brothers that he had to leave. Instead, you walked behind the walls with a pin straight back and let the Peacekeepers lead you through the townhouse, room after room, keeping all your emotions balled up. You signed some papers in one room, received a bag with a uniform in another. Finally you walked into the very same room that broke your heart 5 years ago, where your friends and family were already waiting.

The goodbyes were a flurry. Nothing felt real.

You hugged every one of the McKinnon siblings goodbye and nodded weakly when they begged that you would come back home to them, unable to make false promises verbally. The eldest, your Marlene, was the only one who did not plead; she grabbed each side of your face with a determined look and forced you to meet her eyes. “You will come home, Y/N. You will. I am not giving you a choice, you are making it back to us. Do you hear me?”

Even her, you could only spare a nod. But you listened and held her gaze through every word she spoke to make up for it, which seemed to be enough for now. Her hug was even more crushing now than when she kept you from running after Sirius and getting gunned down during his Reaping.

Mary had been silently crying through it all. When she hugged you, your collar was instantly wettened, and you could not help but wonder if this was how it felt for Sirius when you cried into him. You hoped it wasn’t, even as you knew it was. 

When every cheek was kissed and every I love you uttered, you sized them up with a resolved gaze. You let it drag carefully over them all, committing them to memory, one last time. 

Marlene could see what you were doing. With minimal movement, she shook her head – not admonishingly, but the correction was clear nonetheless. You will come back. You gave her a tight-lipped smile, and gave them all a final nod before exiting, allowing Peter to enter for his own goodbyes.

You stopped to say something to him, to hug him or give any reaction, but he scurried past you before you could. Even as you kept walking, your heart was sinking.

There was only one Peacekeeper waiting for you in the hallway. 

“Where do I go now?” You hated how weak your voice sounded, but at least there were no cameras here to catch it this time.

“Mrs. Lestrange is waiting for you around the corner. She will take you to meet your mentor on the train.” Even in your shock, you were baffled by the extreme lack of emotion in his voice. It was almost like talking to a robot, except it had distinctly human eyes. You supposed that was something to get used to.

“Thank you,” you replied, unsure if that was a common custom with Peacekeepers. You were lucky enough in 7 that their presence was limited.

You heard Bella before you saw her, she was excitedly recapping the entire Reaping process to Barty, as if it did not just end and he wasn’t there for the whole thing. He didn't seem to mind; he was twirling around himself, as if your metaphorical dead body was his favourite meadow to frolic through. Her clapping hands and screeching voice made you sick to your stomach, but her eyes might as well be cameras in the court of public opinion, so you picked your facade back up.

“I was told you would take me to the train.” You interrupted one of her tirades, and when her head snapped towards you, there was a second of blazing fire in her expression before she realised that it was you – a new plaything. The glee set back into her within a second.

“Oh, this was the part I was the most excited about.” She smacked a kiss to Barty's cheek before grabbing your elbow to drag you away with her. You had to clench your teeth not to rip it away from her – these Capitol people were handsy. “It’s about time for a reunion, don’t ya’ think?”

You weren’t sure what she was saying most of the time, though you rarely were with Capitol people. Yet the pinching feeling in your stomach did not recede to make space for confusion, nor did your shoulders lower even a fraction.

There was a special entrance to the train that you could access through the townhouse, so that you would not be too swamped by onlookers. Bella was explaining the whole ordeal to you somehow, but as the metallic train came into view through the windows, the blood rushing through your head got louder and louder, even more so than her pitchy voice. 

With this entrance, you only had to walk a meter unsheltered in the transition between the townhouse and the train. Shortly after the first gust of wind hit you was it again shut away as you stepped onto the metallic floorboards.

“Where are we going?” You found yourself asking Bella, unsure if she had already answered this or even if she was in the middle of a sentence.

She looked at you as if you were dumb, but it did not lessen her unnerving smile even a fraction nor stop her quick strides through the many corridors of the train. “Well, to meet your loverboy, duh.”

You stopped in the middle of a step, staring at her incredulously, unsure if you heard her correctly. A frustrated groan escaped her when she had to stop too, looking at you as if you were quite tedious. You knew who she must be referring to, but you had no idea why she would. At least like that.

“Am I not to meet with my potential mentors?” You tried to force any emotion out of your sentence.

“You’re being so silly, did you know that?” Bella took your arm once more, jostling you along with her. “Your mentor has already been decided, stupid. He’s waiting just over there, come on.”

You stumbled slightly in your step from how forcefully she dragged you. You were unsure if she even knew that she was gripping you as hard as she was, or if there was some serious disconnect between her mind and body. 

She only let you go in favour of ripping open a rather large oak door and releasing an unnecessarily loud “ta dah!”. 

The back you were met with was one you would have recognised in every life. 

He stood hunched over a table, hands splayed out so wide they were shaking, black curls hanging messily in his face, breathing ragged. At the sound of Bella’s entrance and you being ushered in, he whipped around.

It was Sirius. Of course it was. Your heart wanted to say it was your Sirius, but you could clearly see that he wasn’t. 

Though he looked different than he had on the occasional glance you stole of him onscreen, he still didn’t look the way you remembered either. No longer was he the scrawny boy you grew up with, the one you messed around in fields with, the one you read books with, the one you cried with and slept beside and walked beside and lived beside. Before you stood a weathered man, sharp in his handsomeness, pointed in every one of his features, guarded by an army of layers yet wearing more emotions than suited him. He had a few tattoos creeping up the side of his neck, the onyx ink shining in contrast to his pale skin.

The one thing that remained the same was the utter heartbreak spelled out in his eyes. It was the same as when you saw him last, only perhaps worse.

No, it was decidedly worse. When the stormy greys landed on your face, flitting about so rapidly that you were unsure how he could even see, lips parting ever so slightly, whatever tormented him settled in deeper. He looked inconsolable.

Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. As if he didn’t know what to say, as if there were no words.

His attention was abruptly shifted over to Bella when she clapped her hands together in mirth. “Isn’t this exciting!” she exclaimed, looking back and forth between you. “Aren’t you going to hug in greeting? Aren’t you going to ki–”

“Bellatrix.” Sirius spoke through gritted teeth, all of his pain schooled away in favour of a burning fire when he faced her. His voice was so much deeper than you remembered, so much hoarser. “Get lost. This is a meeting between mentor and tribute.”

“Oh, this is hardly a meeting or classified in any way, Siri. Just–”

He cut her off once more. “I won���t tell you again.” He eyed her with a severe glare. “Leave us. Now.”

It looked like Bellatrix wanted to fight him on it, but after looking between you three more times, she evidently decided she had gotten enough out of this endeavour. “You’re too serious, Black,” she said with a giggle. “Don’t bite her face off, you dog, she needs it for the interviews.”

She seemed to all but float out of the room, but closed the door behind her with a loud bang. You kept your head craned sideways, eyes burning a hole through the door where she left, leering. 

The silence in the room felt more deafening than the volume of the plaza had. You had no idea what to say – this was nothing like what you could have imagined.

You and Sirius, alone in a room. Something you had craved more than words could explain, but that you now backed away from with every fibre of your being.

“Princess.” Sirius breathed the word out like he had been choking on it. Before you had the time to turn your head fully back towards him, he had swept you up into a bone-crushing hug. “Y/N,” he whispered into your neck, almost reverently. 

A minute ago you were walking down the hallways with an awful stranger, and now you were embraced by someone who, despite everything, was painfully known to you. It did not compute in your mind, everything was whirring and screeching, and unlike what he once could, Sirius did not quiet the noises.

He almost did, though. Just almost. With his arms around your back, fingers splaying around your ribs, with your nose shoved against his neck as he cradled you, his scent taking over your senses, you could almost fall into it. Could almost fall into him. Your Sirius.

He smelled the same.

You reared backwards out of his touch, back hitting the wall as you stumbled. Your eyes felt wide, almost like a cornered animal, your lips parted as you stared at him. You realised you were breathing heavily. If he was startled by you ripping away from him, his face didn’t show it.

Studying his face now gave you a wave of deja vu so strong, it almost made you dizzy. There was no way you could communicate anything effectively at the minute.

“Sirius, what the fuck?!” 

You hadn’t meant for your voice to be so loud, but not even that drew a reaction from him. Kicking yourself off the wall, you walked past him – leaving a large amount of space between you – dragging your fingers through your hair as you did so. You began a sentence multiple times, but no coherent word came out. “Why are you here? What just happened?” you ended up whispering, feeling pathetic at how close to a whimper it was. “Who–” You stopped. That was a sentence you did not have it in you to complete. 

Who are you?

When you turned around to face him, you found that he had followed after you, keeping a respectable distance but still within arm’s reach, as if he couldn’t allow you to get further than that. For the first time since you stepped into the town square, tears began to fight to well in your eyes. Sirius didn’t look away from them.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice was barely a whisper, insistent and imploring. “Y/N, I am so sorry.”

“For what?” You choked out, wrapping your arms around your stomach, not much unlike you had during his Reaping. Sirius’ gaze flitted down to your arms before moving back up, and it was as if you could see the memory playing across his irises.

He heaved a deep breath before rubbing his hands up and down his own face. When he lowered them, he gave you a look of defeat.

“I– let’s start over again,” he said then. He gave you a rueful smile. “Hi, princess.”

You looked at him, uncertain of whether you should start crying or laughing. You settled on a scowl in between. “I’m not sure you get to call me that anymore.” You looked away from his face as you said it, unwilling to see his reaction. “But sure. Hi, Sirius.”

When you dared a glance at him, he had his lips pressed together and a look of remorse in his eyes. You hated that you could still read him like this, for more than one reason.

“I was roughhoused onto the train last night. Told that I was to be the mentor of these games, whether I’d like to or not, no more information.” He said, as if that explained anything.

You couldn’t help the bite in your reply. “Am I meant to feel sorry for you? I was just given a death sentence. And now I have to face my ex best friend who I haven't seen in five years. This is some awful joke.”

This time you didn’t avert your gaze, the simmer within you for once bursting into a flame, however short-lived, and you got to witness how his face jerked backwards as if you had slapped him. In some way, you kind of had.

Your anger was not mirrored in his expression, but a form of determination took over his face as he spoke. “You weren’t. You weren’t.” 

“What?” you asked dumbly, yet uncaring of sounding it.

Sirius stepped towards you, gingerly taking your hands into his own. His touch burned, the new awkwardness of the gesture burned. “You weren’t given a death sentence. I wasn’t and you weren’t. I bloody swear to you, Y/N, you will make it through these games.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from his touch, but you managed to at least not lean into it. There was a dangerous gloss coated over his grey eyes when you met them with your own, and for a second you got lost in them. Your voice cracked as you asked, “Why?”

Sirius let out a humourless laugh and suddenly brought you back into a hug, as if he just couldn’t help himself. Your hands were trapped between you in an embrace with one of his, but he rested his forehead against your temple and seemingly breathed you in.

“I am so, so sorry you have to ask that, princess. I’m so sorry, but I had to go.”

You shivered in his hold. These were words that you dreamed of – but had they not been nightmares? You shook your head but made no other move to remove yourself.

"It's been five years, you know? I'm not sure we even know each other at this point."

Sirius' answer was immediate. "I know you." He pressed his forehead firmer against you. "I know you."

The emotion in his voice rendered you speechless.

He pulled backwards without releasing you from the embrace, leaning away just enough to catch your gaze with his. It felt like the floor was giving way beneath you. His hand on your back travelled up to your cheek. “I'm sorry for it all. Always. And I’m sorry for calling you princess when you just asked me not to,” he added with a hint of the sheepish smile you once loved.

You opened and closed your mouth, absolutely dumbfounded, and he just stared at you patiently. Warmly. Desperately. 

“Sirius–”

You were cut off by the door swinging open once more, causing Sirius to physically spring away from you, suddenly putting multiple metres between you at the sign of new guests. You almost stumbled at the change in positions, and you saw his hand twitch when he cast a glance your way, as if it ached to steady you.

“Now that the lovers have had their private greeting, maybe it’s time to include the other tribute in your strategies, Siri? Or are we just going to let itty bitty Peter die at the cornucopia?”

Bellatrix’s high pitched voice pierced through your ears, and you felt a mountain of guilt fall on top of you when your eyes fell on Peter cowering behind her, his eyes flitting wildly between you and Sirius. In your whirlwind of emotion, you had almost forgotten that he was as doomed as you were.

One glance to your right showed you that Sirius had no idea Peter had been reaped too. His brows furrowed and his lips fell into a decidedly downturned frown. “What– no, Pete,” he breathed out, arms falling to his sides.

“Hi, Sirius,” Peter squeaked, seemingly uncertain about what their dynamic was now, but relieved at at least being acknowledged.

Sirius stepped forward and physically nudged Bellatrix to the side as he pulled Peter in for his own hug. The sight stung in a way you couldn't communicate.

Over Sirius’ back, Bellatrix was grinning at you wickedly.

“Seems like you three have a conundrum or two to work through for us, don’t you?” Barty said cheerily as he emerged from behind Peter, clapping his hands down on his shoulders and making the younger boy jump in fear.

Bellatrix laughed as if that was just the funniest joke, and all but skipped up to you to tug at your cheek while turning to look at Sirius’ face that became increasingly stony at the sight of Bellatrix’s hands on you.

“Don’t you, Siri?” she pushed, giggling in a nearly maniacal manner. “Luckily, the Capitol is still far off. Gives you just loads of time to catch up, yeah?”

Part Two can be found here<3

[museaway]

ask box trick-or-treat (fic writer edition)

Send an ask with "Trick or treat!" to the writer who reblogged this & you could receive a 3-sentence fic, drabble, headcanon, sneak-peek at a WIP, the last sentence they wrote, a new fic idea, random line from a fic, picture of their notebook, a deleted line they love, an idea for a sequel, something they're researching, behind-the-scenes info on a published fic, or something else!

happy halloween!

reblog to welcome trick-or-treaters to your inbox! 🕸️🦇

[random-twst-things]

Epel: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang a mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it

Vil: Epel, no

Mc/Y/N/Yuu: Mistlefoe

Vil: Mc/Y/N/Yuu, stop encouraging him

Mc/Y/N/Yuu: I'm not, I just threw in a creative name for his new tradition

Epel: Mistlefoe... Got a nice ring to it, I'll use it!

Vill: NO!

Dividers by/from @/cafekitsune

[bruisedboys]

hi!! could you write something about r and finnick in the quarter quell and they are in an established relationship? maybe j how they are with each other in general, and how others perceive them? hope that makes sense xxx

hi lovely, you requested this forever ago but I hope you’re still around to read it!! thank you for your request x

finnick odair x tribute!reader (quarter quell)

“It’s so hot.”

Finnick hums beside you. You’re both stretched out on the damp jungle floor, sweat shining on your foreheads. It’s so sticky in here. Peeta’s alseep a little ways to your left, and you and Finnick are supposed to be asleep too, but it’s much too hot for that. Katniss is perched on a rock keeping watch.

Your boyfriend props himself up on one elbow. Despite the heat, despite the frankly terrible day you’ve had, despite everything, he’s still so pretty. And he’s still yours. For as long as you can both stay alive, at least.

“Do you want me to get you some more water?” He asks. The tips of his curls glow in the soft white moonlight. He brings a hand to your face and brushes some hair from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear. “Might help.”

You nod, turning your head to the side to kiss his palm. You think it’s sweet that he’s still trying to make this okay for you, even though it’s far from that. “That would be nice.”

“Alright. I’ll be two seconds, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

He squeezes your shoulder before getting up and moving away. You hear him ask Katniss for the spile, hear the thud thud thud as he knocks it into a tree.

A few quiet moments pass, and then there’s a soft rustling to your left. You startle, but it’s just Peeta, rolling onto his back. Apparently the heat’s keeping him up, too.

“He’s different to what I expected,” he says quietly.

You roll onto your side. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know. I guess I just … didn’t expect him to be so nice. He’s really lovely to you.”

You hum. You get what he means. Finnick might put on a show of arrogance, but it’s nothing but that. Just a show, for the Capitol, for Snow. Alone with you, with the people he cares about, he’s the sun, warm and bright.

“Yeah,” you agree softly. “He’s lovely.”

Heavy footsteps crunch towards you and Finnick appears out of the half dark, a leaf cupped in his hand, water sloshing inside of it.

“Hey.” He kneels next to you, grinning, his dimples sinking into his tanned cheeks. “What’re we talking about?”

You lift yourself onto your elbows and smile at him. “Just you.”

“Oh, really?” Finnick raises his eyebrows as he gets one hand behind your back, helping you sit up properly. He brings the leaf to your mouth and helps you drink, his hand steady at the small of your back. “Were you telling Peeta how good of a boyfriend I am?”

Peeta audibly sighs, but you just smile at Finnick, properly lovelorn.

“Uh-huh,” you nod. “Something like that.”

Finnick grins wolfishly and presses a chaste kiss to your mouth.