#he had been having health issues that weren’t getting better with medication so I think it was time

[aur-eliaa]

We had to put my cat to sleep yesterday so I commissioned art of him to put in my office and it’s so perfect

[mrs-kmikaelson]

Our Song and Dance⁴

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader Summary: You'd grown used to dancing the same dance over and over again, the victor's dance, but then you start dancing with Finnick Odair and you feel things you never thought you'd feel. So you let yourself enjoy the dance, even though you knew that every song inevitably came to an end. Warnings: LONGGGG, descriptions of torture, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, violence, exploitation of minors, mentions of forced prostitution, very complicated relationships, complex mental health issues, death, grief, and some unhealthy coping mechanisms Words: 18.2K

Masterlist

a/n: since it's that time of year, i decided to give u guys a lil present. merry christmas and enjoy!!!

You had never felt so cold.

Growing up in a working home, you sometimes went through winter just hoping that your sheets would be enough to keep you alive, unable to afford a heater. In your first Games, you nearly froze to death, your matches being the only thing that saved you. Then once you had won and made it to the Capitol, you went through those cold nights with Finnick, sometimes hoping that you really would freeze to death, even if you never told him that.

Yet none of those times could compare to how cold you felt now. 

Cold as you were brought out of the Capitol. Cold on the hovercraft. Cold when they sedated you. Cold as you were wrapped in blankets. Cold as Finnick went to touch you. And now, as the doctors examined you like you were an artifact, you were still just as cold.

But you were an artifact, weren’t you? You were the Princess.

So it didn’t really matter how cold you were at all.

You had been transported from the open medical area to your own room. It was almost like you blinked and, just like that, you were in a different room. Like magic.

Even though magic did not exist. Not in Panem. Not in this world.

Someone named Boggs had come to see you, explaining that you were in district 13, a district that you thought didn’t exist for your entire life. This is the revolution, he said. He was meant to bring you up to speed, ease your confusion, but you weren’t sure that was possible at the moment. 

Throughout his explanation, you didn’t say a word, just staring up at him. This may have been seen as rude, but you weren’t doing it on purpose. You really didn’t know what to say.

He eventually left, not getting anywhere with you. From what you could tell, he had a lot more to deal with than just one girl. For a supposedly dead district, there was a lot going on in 13, but that wasn’t where your mind was.

Your body was in 13, but your mind was in the Capitol.

“Please, don’t-”

You closed your eyes, trying to rid yourself of these memories, but that only made it worse, images appearing underneath your eyelids. Your eyes quickly snapped open, darting around the room, your chest rapidly falling and rising.

You were in a bed. There was a desk, some chairs, a glass of water on the night stand next to you. The floor was white, tiled, not grey concrete. There were lights. You were in 13, where the lights were on, not in the Capitol, surrounded by darkness.

You’re alive, Y/N, you told yourself. But that didn’t seem to make anything better.

When did it ever?

You ran your hands up and down your arms, feeling new scars that hadn’t been there before, scars that could maybe heal one day, but you knew there were still open wounds you had that couldn’t be treated, open wounds that may never scar at all. 

You didn’t think the wounds you had right now would ever close.

Your heart was racing, beating so loudly that you could hear it, so you imagined it wasn’t yours at all, that it was Finnick’s heart that you heard. Though you supposed that your heart did belong to him.

Even though you didn’t want to see him.

Nevertheless, imagining him sitting with you and pretending to listen to his heartbeat was what calmed you down. It always would. In a way, that was the only thing about you that remained sure, the only thing you had left from the life you lived.

Because that’s what it was: a life lived. Y/N Y/L/N lived her life. For a time, she was happy. She fell in love. And then she died. Now… now, you didn’t know who you were.

What you did know was that you weren’t the same Y/N that Finnick knew, the same Y/N who’d fall asleep in his arms. Now, you weren’t sure you could fall asleep at all, not for long, never for long.

Johanna and Peeta’s faces flashed through your mind. Their screams still echoed in your head. They were different now, too. Johanna wasn’t so fearless anymore, and the golden boy wasn’t so golden. His bright gold had been captured by darkness, and you weren’t sure if any of you would ever see it again.

At that thought, you finally got up, ignoring the ache in your bones. You couldn’t just sit there. You couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t eat. You couldn’t think anymore- you wouldn’t. You had to see them.

You left your room, a nurse coming up to you right away. “Ma’am, please, you need to rest-”

“I’m fine.” Your voice was raspy and scratched at your throat, so you cleared it. You didn’t know what you looked like, but you knew it couldn’t have been great with the way the nurse was looking at you. “Could you please take me to my friend Johanna?”

Hesitance was painted all over her face, as well as fear. You didn’t know why; you weren’t in any position to fight. “I’m sorry, I- I can’t-”

You cut her off. “I just want to see my friend.” Annoyance laced your voice, but if one listened closely, they’d also hear the desperation. You needed to see her, you needed to see someone familiar, someone that wasn’t there just because you were their responsibility, someone that wasn’t the boy you loved.

Her mouth opened and closed for several seconds before she responded, “I- she’s with a counsellor right now-”

You sharply inhaled, blinking and seeing Johanna, hearing her cry. When you opened your eyes again, you only saw the nurse staring at you anxiously, expectantly. You ran a hand through your hair. You needed to see someone. “Peeta then,” you said. “Take me to Peeta.”

Her fright seemed to increase. She looked at you like you weren’t in your right mind, which was right, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. There was something else in her expression, like there was something you didn’t know, something she didn’t want to tell you, but she nodded, anyway, agreeing.

This nurse was young, kind, and even a little naive. If you were in your right mind, you’d feel more empathy for her, be more compassionate or soft, but you weren’t. Your mind was in all of the wrong places all at once.

She reminded you of the nurse you had in the Capitol. She wasn’t there to ease your pain but to keep you alive, make sure you didn’t bleed to death so that you could go through the whole routine all over again the next day. She looked at you like that, too, like she was scared of you, even though you were the one that was powerless, even though you were the one on the brink of death.

Now you weren’t. You’re safe now, Boggs had told you. You didn’t say anything in that moment, but what you wanted to say was that he was wrong.

You’d never feel safe again.

When the nurse brought you to Peeta, Katniss was also there, but she didn’t notice you, staring through the glass of a white room. There was a blond boy in that room, strapped down to the bed.

But this boy wasn’t Peeta.

He wasn’t Peeta at all.

“Y/N?”

You turned away from the sight in front of you to the voice that called your name. The voice belonged to none other than Haymitch Abernathy, victor of the 50th Hunger Games and second Quarter Quell, but you knew him better as the man who drank his sorrows away until he couldn’t remember all that’d happened to him.

You nodded in greeting, but didn’t speak. He looked like he had more he wanted to say but held it in as he glanced back at the room, a young blonde girl entering it and carefully going to sit on the bed.

“She’s too close,” he remarked.

“It’s okay,” someone else responded. You turned and saw a greying man on the other side of Katniss, recognizing him immediately as opposed to when you first met him. Plutarch Heavensbee.

You glanced to Haymitch who was already looking at you. He glanced at the Gamemaker then nodded to you. Whatever he was trying to say didn’t fully translate, and you didn’t understand why this man who had caused so much pain was standing right next to Katniss like it was nothing, but for now, you still remained silent, choosing to let it be.

Throughout this interaction, Katniss had practically been none the wiser, eyes fixed on the inside of that room. When you redirected your attention to the scene, you realized why she was so focused. You still recognized the blonde girl from the reaping, even though it’d been over a year since they took place.

Primrose Everdeen.

Yet little Primrose never went into The Games. Her sister took her place. This was Katniss’ sister.

We live in district 13 now, she told him, her voice soft, soft enough to tell you that even though she was surrounded by war, her childhood was still there. It’s a real place. Stories are true. A pause. You were rescued.

Peeta didn’t look fazed by what she was saying, his attention on something else entirely. The look in his eyes was contained, but you saw it. Anger. My family hasn’t come to see me, he said, but he was talking to himself more than he was talking to Prim.

Family.

You saw your mother’s face in your mind, but you weren’t sure if that was still what she looked like. The last time you saw her was a year ago, her face stricken with grief, tears leaking from her eyes.

She hadn’t come to see you, either.

And you realized it was probably for the same reason Peeta’s family hadn’t come to see him. 

At that realization, anything else Peeta or Prim said fell upon deaf ears. You couldn’t hear a thing, your song playing in your head on a loop, dancing so fast that the world blurred and you couldn’t see a thing.

Dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing-

“Y/N.”

The call of your name cut through the music, making you turn your head to see Katniss staring at you. You glanced around; Haymitch and Plutarch were gone now, so was Prim. It was just Peeta on the other side of the glass, kicking and yelling, people in scrubs going to sedate him.

You actually looked at her now, noticing the purple marks around her neck that matched the bags underneath her eyes. She looked different now, different from the last time you saw her in person and different from when you saw her on TV.

The Girl on Fire looked like her spark had been extinguished. 

And, suddenly, she reminded you of yourself now more than ever.

You nodded to her and then turned to walk away, but her hand caught your wrist. Like a reflex, you yanked it away, spinning around to face her. She muttered a sorry under her breath, making you inhale.

“It’s fine,” you replied, your voice quiet. She couldn’t be blamed for how you could no longer handle touch, neither could Finnick. You felt guilt wash over you as you heard his voice cracking in your head, remembering how you didn’t say a word to him.

He’s fine, you told yourself. He has Annie. 

Your thoughts were diverted away from him and back to Katniss as she spoke. “Has anyone explained it all to you yet?” This was a question, even though her voice was monotone while she asked it.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, thinking back to Boggs. “Yeah- um, a little.”

She looked at you like you were a puzzle and she was rearranging the pieces in her head, using what little energy she had. “Did they tell you?”

You furrowed your brows. You were just as if not more tired than her, your mind all over the place, too all over the place to understand what she was asking you. “Tell me what?” You questioned.

She didn’t respond right away, still looking at you as if she was trying to figure you out. Her eyes told you this story; however, her expression was blank. You’d seen snippets of her videos, not in full, never in full, but even from a snippet, you were able to see that look.

The way a victor looked.

When you met Katniss, you thought to yourself that she hadn’t been under the spotlight long enough to have been burned.

But with the spotlight they had on her now, she’d gone up in flames.

After a beat, she ceased her mental debate and decided to speak her thoughts. “I think we should talk.”

And she may not have known it, but what she told you may have just changed the course of your life.

Katniss took you to her room, sat you down, and with her raspy voice, she explained your situation to you. I’m The Mockingjay, she said. And they wanted you, too, Y/N. They wanted the Princess of Panem and The Mockingjay to be the voices of this revolution.

You stared at her wordlessly as she went on, just listening. To her, you must have looked crazy, listening to everything she said without any reaction whatsoever, but you knew that Katniss had been dancing long enough now to read you, too. 

You were mind-blown. She was telling you that they wanted you to be a voice for the people, but wasn’t that so ironic? Your voice had been on mute for years. You were silent as you were used in the Capitol. You were silent as they made you go back and take everything from kids, kids just like you. Even when you thought you were about to die and had so many things to say to the boy that you loved, you didn’t say any of it.

How could you ever be a voice?

They chose the wrong person. Katniss was good. She was good at being The Mockingjay, good at saying the right things, and great at being a voice for Panem. But you? You weren’t cut out for this.

Why would she tell you this? This revolution had been well-planned and was proceeding fine without you. Why would she tell you this- why now?

You cut her off mid-sentence. “Katniss, what exactly are you trying to tell me?”

She paused as if she didn’t know the answer, either. Her red eyes glazed over and, for a few seconds, you both sat in silence. You thought she wouldn’t say anything until she looked back up at you. This time, her eyes were full of light, like she’d just realized she held the key to all she ever wanted, all you ever wanted.

And, in a way, she did.

“Hope,” she breathed. “I’m telling you that I have hope for a better world.”

A better world. 

Once, you had hopes, too. You hoped that your kids would make it through The Games. You hoped that you could be loved back by the person you loved. You hoped that you could one day mend your relationship with your mother. You hoped that you could be happy.

But each of these hopes were crushed until nothing remained but disappointment.

You didn’t have any hope left.

After Katniss’ declaration, you sat silently before eventually leaving without saying a word. 

She was so young. Sometimes, you forgot that. She wasn’t a child, but she was supposed to be. She was supposed to have a childhood, not the weight of a country resting on her shoulders.

But you’d carried the weight of the crown for years now.

You knew better.

You abandoned the idea of hope as soon as you dived off that pedestal in The Games, and then it abandoned you for good the second you woke up in the Capitol. 

There wasn’t any hope left, not for you.

You got back to your room, ignoring your nurse who opened her mouth to speak to you but ultimately didn’t say anything, letting the door close in her face. It wasn’t personal. There were too many different people on your mind to think about her, so many words you said and didn’t say floating around, things you did and what was done to you.

You didn’t want to be awake anymore, to think about these things. Sometimes, nightmares offered more relief than your real life ever could. 

But as you went to go lie down, you suddenly stopped, seeing something on your bed that hadn’t been there before. It was a sleek black box, one that wasn’t so common back where you were from but became an everyday custom after you won The Games. You picked up, clicking the side button and watching light shoot of it and project an image in front of you.

For a moment, you could’ve sworn your heart stopped.

Because that image that the box projected was of Finnick Odair.

It was a video shot here, in 13, similar to others you’d seen, but you’d never seen this. This was the first time you saw him on camera since before the Quell. And this was also the first time you’d looked into his eyes since you left that night.

Even if you weren’t really looking at him.

Finnick was always charming, the corners of his lips always quirked upward. He had mastered this façade- oh, Finnick knew how to dance, dance around all of the hard topics, dance around everything that was wrong with your lives to make you seem like the perfect happy couple, like victors.

But he didn’t look like that in the video.

He looked solemn. And maybe even a little scared.

No matter his appearance, you could’ve never expected the words that came out of his mouth, never from Finnick, never from one of you, from a victor. But he still said them.

Your mouth fell open. For the first time since you arrived in 13, you let tears fall down your cheeks, though you didn’t know if you could stop them, even if you tried. They burned on their way down, rubbing salt into the bruises you could see and the bruises you could never fix.

May the odds be ever in your favour, darling.

The box in your hands clattered to the ground, the video cutting out as you ran to the toilet, but Finnick’s voice still echoed in your ears. You threw up what very little you had eaten, head spinning.

Dancing, dancing, dancing.

This song didn’t sound right anymore. This dance didn’t feel right anymore. You were so tired of dancing- you just wanted to stop.

But Finnick hadn’t stopped at all.

Finnick was still dancing. Katniss was still dancing. Peeta, Johanna, every single person in Panem was now dancing with you. They knew now. They could hear the music, too. And who would save them?

You had wished for years and years that someone would pull you off the dance floor, that someone would make it stop. There were so many people that knew, so many people that just let you endure it- let you all endure it. How could you let any more people endure anything close to that?

You couldn’t stand on the sidelines and watch as everything burned to the ground. No, you wanted to help them set fire to the Capitol and burn Snow alive.

Hope. I’m telling you that I have hope for a better world.

You may not have had this hope. There was no better world out there for you.

But you’d be damned if you didn’t try to make one for every kid out there that cried and prayed their name didn’t get called at the reapings. 

You would not get to live in this better world.

But you would make it in memory of the younger you that could have.

You later found Katniss again, telling her that you’d do it. You left out the part about how you sobbed for hours at the recording you knew she left you because that wasn’t what was important right now. You were not important right now.

This was about something much bigger.

She took you to Coin, who cleared the room at the sight of you, a surprised expression on her face. “Ms. Y/L/N, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She stood up, shaking your hand, glancing at Katniss periodically before looking back to you. “I’m sorry I couldn’t visit you sooner-”

“It’s alright,” you cut her off, trying your best to pull your lips into a smile. You had barely been in the room with her for a few seconds, but there was something about this woman that threw you off.

Katniss explained her story to you, how she was a widow, how her entire family died in a day. You sympathized with that, but Alma Coin did not remind you of a widow in the slightest.

She reminded you of the people you saw in the Capitol.

Clearly, she sensed the tension, giving you a smile and letting go of your hand, beckoning you both to sit. You sat down in the chair across from her, surveying the room, looking at the blueprints and papers sprawled everywhere. Your attention was drawn back to the woman when she spoke.

“So, how may I help you? I know adjusting to life here must be hard for you. But I will be here every step of the if you so need it.” You opened your mouth to speak, but she kept going, “You are an incredibly strong young woman. I cannot imagine what it must have been like to live through those Games, nor could I imagine what it must have been like within the walls of the Capitol.”

No, you couldn’t, you thought, but you didn’t say that. Instead, you gave her a stiff smile, hoping that all your practice faking it could make it look believable. It seemed that President Coin had some practice faking it, too.

However, you cut straight to the point. “Madam President, I want to help the rebels in any way that I can.”

Her mouth fell open slightly, as if that was the last thing she was expecting. She looked to Katniss again, like you were out of it. And maybe you were, but so was The Girl on Fire. So were all of you.

It wasn’t fair of her to treat you like glass because, the truth was, she was right. You went through The Games not once but twice, and then you were immediately thrown into the Capitol, facing horrors that you weren’t sure you could ever speak aloud, horrors that flashed before your eyes every time you blinked, even as you sat across from her.

But you were. You were sitting across from her. You were ready to do something.

You may have just been pulled from the Devil’s clutches, but you were ready to walk through Hell all over again if it meant you got to kill him.

Katniss didn’t waver. “So do I.”

Coin’s hesitance was easier than expected to spot. For someone who wanted to lead Panem, she surely wore her heart on her sleeve. Or maybe you had just gotten too good at this dance that you could spot anyone’s slightest misstep. 

Slowly, she cautioned, “You both are going through a lot right now-”

The brunette sharply cut her off, “That doesn’t matter.” Your eyes were trained on Coin, but if you stole a glance at Katniss, then you knew you would’ve seen the fire in her eyes. In a way, she hadn’t changed at all since the last time you saw her.

And you wished that was true.

“Send me to the Capitol- send us to the Capitol.” Underneath her demand was pleading. “I’ll do anything.”

Coin brought her hand to her mouth, an indent on her finger where her ring was supposed to be yet no ring in sight. “I can’t.” But she wanted to. “I can’t send you there. We can’t get into the Capitol until we control district 2.”

“Then send us to 2,” you spoke up, her eyes moving to yours. There was some emotion in her eyes, pity or fear, you couldn’t tell, but you didn’t want to know what you looked like to find out. “I can fire up your troops, call out to the loyalists. You’ve seen what The Mockingjay can do, and I don’t doubt that you know what I am capable of.” You paused. “Let us win this for you, Madam President.”

She was silent for a moment, continuing to stare at you as if she was waiting for you to break, to do something that showed her that you weren’t capable of this, but she wouldn’t get that opening. You wanted this more than anything, and you would stop at nothing to get it.

Finally, she blinked, and you knew you had her.

“It would be an honour.”

You didn’t tell Katniss, and you certainly didn’t tell Coin, but a part of you was relieved that you weren’t going back to the Capitol so soon. You just left, and yet it felt like it had both been a world ago and just yesterday.

You didn’t know if you could handle it so soon, going back there. You could barely even handle looking at Finnick.

It wasn’t his fault. It was never his fault. You could never blame him, never for this.

How could you blame him when picturing his face was what got you through it?

How could you blame him when the only reason you survived was to find out if he was still alive?

They told you he was dead. They played his screams on a loop until you couldn’t tell that they stopped. His screams now blended in with the music so well.

Oh, you loved him. You loved him so much more than you could ever express. And maybe that’s why you never told him, but now you knew it was for the best. Finnick was strong, and beautiful, and he had a long life ahead of him with the woman of his dreams. You weren’t gonna get in the way of that.

You knew that you’d never truly be happy without him.

But you also knew from experience that he’d never be happy with you.

These were the thoughts that filled your head on the hovercraft. Even as he was nowhere in sight, his face was still all you could see.

He was here, too. You knew he was. Katniss told you beforehand. She didn’t know the whole story between you two, but she still told you. She had no idea how grateful you were.

You were hiding from him. You accepted the fact that the two of you would never get a happy ending, but that didn’t mean that you were ready to see him, knowing that. If you looked into his ocean blue eyes, God knew that he’d only pull you in and drown you in them.

You couldn’t do that.

It wasn’t fair to him.

It wasn’t fair to Annie.

It wasn’t fair to you.

And it wasn’t fair to all the people that were depending on you.

Suddenly, your thoughts were cut off the sound of footsteps came your way. You looked up, letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you saw it was just Haymitch.

He nodded to you. “Princess.”

You held back a scoff as he sat down next to you on the floor. “Haymitch.”

You still remembered when you met him. He was one of the first people to actually speak to you after you won your Games. For some reason, the others were too “intimidated” by you, but Haymitch didn’t have much left to be scared of, not when he went into an arena with 47 people and was the only one who walked out.

What you couldn’t remember was the last time you had an actual conversation with him, or at least the last time you had a conversation and he was sober.

“How’d you find me?” you asked, but your eyes were still trained on the floor. He didn’t seem to mind.

“I hang around here sometimes, go through the boxes and see if there’s anything medicinal in ‘em,” he responded, making you chuckle.

If he was looking for something medicinal, then you weren’t such a great replacement.

“Well, sorry you couldn’t find what you were looking for.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shake his head. “No, I need to be brought back to reality, anyway. And you, uh, you do a good job at that.”

You snorted, sensing the compliment was backhanded, even if he didn’t see it that way. Or maybe he did, but Haymitch was never one to hold his thoughts in. “Why, because I’m so fucked up?”

“No.” A beat of silence passed. “Because you remind me of a human’s will to live better than those Games ever did.”

You finally looked up, seeing that he was already looking at you. The sincerity in his eyes was so strong that it burned into yours, making you look away before it burned just enough to spark tears. “I don’t think I’m the best example of that.”  

His reply came quick, like he didn’t even have to think about it, but he had no idea how much you would after he said it. “You’re still standing, aren’t you?”

Aren’t you?

You didn’t say anything after that, nor did you look at him, and he didn’t force you to. You spent the rest of the ride pondering over his words.

You thought of every painful thing you ever went through. The Hunger Games. Being sold. The Quarter Quell. The Capitol. Falling in love.

You went through all that, and you were still here. You were still standing.

Weren’t you?

Or were you just waiting for the right moment to fall?

Your thoughts were halted as you felt the hovercraft come to a stop, realizing just how long you’d been thinking. You both stood up, going to leave this room. Like most real conversation you’d had with victors, you thought you both would just pretend it never happened, but right before you were about to enter the main ops room, he stopped you, grabbing your wrist. This time, you stopped the flinch before it could happen, looking up at him.

Haymitch Abernathy was not a soft man. After being cut so many times, his edges were jagged and sharp, but looking at you in that moment, he looked more than just soft. He looked sorry.

He hesitated, like he wasn’t sure to say what he wanted to say or not, something unusual for him. He seemed to have made up his mind, telling you, “Stay standing, Y/N. There are still people out there that can’t do that by themselves.” Then he paused, eyes glazing over.

“Show them that they can.”

Getting off the hovercraft, damage surrounded you. The once pristine nature of district 2 was gone, replaced by devastation, rubble everywhere. If this was district 2, then you couldn’t imagine that any of the other districts were any better, that your district was any better.

Your mind was drawn back to your mother before you shook it away. You couldn’t be thinking of that right now.

A man in black attire carrying an assault rifle greeted you. Not a Peacekeeper. But a chill still went down your spine.

You couldn’t really tell if it was because of the soldier or if it was because you felt Finnick staring at you.

He wasn’t far behind you, in the row behind you and Katniss with Boggs and Gale. You tried to ignore it, but that proved to be harder said than done.

Katniss carried her bow in her hand while a sword was strapped to your belt, lightly hitting your leg as you walked, but you got used to this feeling during your first Games. In a way, it was almost comforting, even though it never should’ve been, even though weapons should’ve never been comforting to a child so young.

But you weren’t a child anymore.

In your hand, you carried a crossbow, Beetee’s special arrows on your back. The sword was really only there for show. This wasn’t The Hunger Games; no, this was a very different and special game entirely.

This was war.

You wouldn’t be getting up close for combat very often, so a crossbow made more sense, but after The Games, weapons started to hold sentimental value, both for the victors and the viewers that watched them. For Katniss, it was her bow; for Finnick, it was his trident; and for you, it was your sword.

Suddenly, as you were making your way to the Justice Building, a bomb went off, shaking the ground and making you spin, your grip on your bow tightening. Your heart was beating rapidly, but Corporal Homes wasn’t fazed, even letting out a little laugh. “Don’t worry. It’s just how the loyalists say good morning.”

You let out a shaky breath, holding the bow tighter to try and stop your hands from trembling. You shut your eyes, trying to calm down, but all that did was bring you right back to the Capitol. Your eyes quickly reopened, but when they did, they met those ocean blues that you’d been trying to avoid.

Your body went rigid. It begged you to look away, but you couldn’t. You were pulled to him like a magnet, a magnet that scraped against you, a magnet that nearly stopped your heart with how strong it was, but no matter how much it hurt you, fighting against it was useless.

Concern swam through his eyes, along with another familiar emotion you couldn’t pinpoint. It had been so long since you last saw him, since you last really saw him. Maybe that was why you couldn’t decipher it.

But, really, it felt like no time had passed at all.

“Are you okay?” God, and his voice. How was it possible that his voice could both fill and create a hole in your heart at the same time? It was both quiet and loud, both sure and uncertain, and caring in every sense of the word.

So warm but made you feel so cold at the same time.

You just looked at him for a few seconds, as if you were hypnotized, until you realized you needed to respond. You nodded, afraid that your voice would crack if you tried to speak.

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but a hand came to your shoulder, yanking you out of trance. You turned to see Katniss, glancing between you both for a second before her eyes rested on you. She nodded towards the building and the rest of the crew who had walked ahead of you. You nodded back, walking away from Finnick without another word.

How did we get here? you wondered. 

We’re gonna be fine. Look, whenever you get nervous up there, you just hold my hand, alright? You’re not alone in this, okay? I’m right here.

He was right there. He was still right there.

But the difference between then and now was that you could no longer just hold his hand.

He was right there.

But you were still alone.

Once you had put some distance between yourselves and Finnick, Katniss whispered, “I’m sorry.” You turned your head, but her eyes were directed in front of her. “That looked personal.”

“No, it’s fine,” you assured her, and then you left it at that. Because, truth be told, you were grateful for Katniss interrupting you. You weren’t sure you would’ve ever walked away if she hadn’t. But you did. And now you had bigger problems to worry about than your love life, if you could even call it that.

You finally made it into the Justice Building, being greeted by both Commander Lyme and Paylor. While they lived in higher ranks, they were still soldiers. You appreciated how they cut right to the chase.

You and your squad from 13 stood around a table projecting a hologram of district 2’s mountains with at least a dozen other soldiers, more littered throughout the room with Coin on a TV in front of you. 

Lyme started, “President Coin, we’re indebted to you for the reinforcements, the Princess, and the Mockingjay.” She glanced at you. “But I’m not sure that anyone outside of 2 knows what we’ve been up against.” She pointed at the hologram. “This is The Nut. The Capitol’s headquarters for all offensive operations. It’s manned by both military and civilian personnel from district 2.” She then continued to explain what all more or less knew, that it lied so deep beneath bedrock that it was untouchable.

“Yesterday, we attempted to take the northeastern gate. The enemy countered from higher up and we were forced to pull back.” She momentarily looked down, her mask of a stone cold commander falling and showing the human behind it. “We took heavy losses.”

Another commander spoke up. “Could we create a decoy? Send troops towards one gate, launch a staggered attack on another.”

Paylor didn’t miss a beat. “Whose troops do you propose as a decoy, Commander?”

Although the question was not directed towards her, Coin still responded, “We have the Mockingjay and we have the Princess of Panem. Do not underestimate their influence. We could use them to erode support, sway some of the loyalists.”

“You’ve been underground a long time, Madam Coin,” Lyme said. “This isn’t like the rest of Panem. Support for the Capitol runs deep here.” And why wouldn’t it? When the oppressor had done just about everything but oppress you, then how could you see the oppression happening everywhere else?

Coin quickly retorted, “Then there is no sacrifice too great.” Her voice was like that of a widow: soft enough that you could tell what she’d been through but firm enough for the exact same reason. 

No sacrifice too great… but wasn’t there? 

“We need to control the arsenal inside that fortress. Even with every district in this alliance, we are outgunned.” All twelve other districts could band together, but without 2, none of you stood a chance.

No sacrifice too great.

“I won’t commit my people to a ground assault just to pillage weapons.”

“Commander Paylor, your people have suffered more than just about anyone else at the hands of the Capitol.”

“Which is why I won’t condone a mass suicide.”

“If we don’t take district 2, we won’t get into the Capitol.”

For the first time since your entrance, you spoke up. “What if we don’t have to take it?” You felt everyone’s eyes on you but yours remained focused on the hologram in front of you, unblinking as if you weren’t there at all. 

And maybe you weren’t.

Lyme responded, “What are you proposing, Ms. Y/L/N?”

What were you proposing? You couldn’t be sure. But you knew what you needed, and that was this war ending in Snow’s final breath.

No sacrifice too great.

“What if we don’t need The Nut to win?” You looked up. “What if we could take it away from them instead?”

Gale seemed to be the only one who caught onto what you were saying, or at least the only one willing to speak it aloud. “We could disable it, trap them inside or flush ‘em out.” He continued, gesturing the hologram. “If we can’t attack straight on, then couldn’t we use our hovercraft to strike around it? We’ll use the mountains; we’ll hit weak spots in the peaks.”

“We could design the bomb targets in sequence using seismic data.”

“Trigger avalanches,” you muttered just above a whisper, imagining it in your head. Something like this happened in The Games once, one of the years you were mentoring. It was catastrophic, akin to a bloodbath. It was a miracle there was even anyone left alive to fight for a victor’s title.

You wondered if Finnick thought of this, too, but you didn’t dare look over at him, looking back to hologram and trying to block the images of blood and terror from your mind.

But as you stood there and spoke about war, you didn’t know if that was possible.

Not when the war in your mind had still yet to be won.

“Block all exits, cut off their supplies. You make it impossible for them to launch their hovercraft.”

Paylor had a look of realization on her face. “Bury them alive.”

“We’d forfeit any chance to control the weapons-”

Beetee cut Coin off, “Yes, but we’d face a weakened Capitol.”

“There’s civilians in there,” Boggs interjected, stoic but any hearing person could hear the compassion in his voice. Civilians. Is that what they were?

You were a civilian too, once. Then you were a tribute, a pawn, a victor, the Princess. Did civilians still exist? What kind of civilians could support the Capitol? What kind of human beings could support the torture you were subjected to, the torture people in the districts were subjected to on a daily basis?

You wondered if your mother was given the courtesy of a civilian before the Capitol took her life.

You weren’t.

“They should be given a chance to surrender. Could use one of the supply tunnels for the evacuees.”

“It’s a luxury we weren’t given when they firebombed 12,” Gale said, as if he were reminding you, as if any of you needed a reminder.

“There’s gotta be a better way.” You were already so focused, but if you were losing attention in any way, Katniss brought it back, the disbelief in her voice audible to everyone in the room. She glanced in between Gale and you, but she didn’t get whatever response she expected of you.

Katniss may have had hope for the good of humanity, but you didn’t have that. The Capitol took that away from you without a second thought. She may have been driven by hope, but you were driven by anger.

There was no sacrifice too great.

“I suggest we try the avalanche, but leave the train tunnel alone,” Coin decided. “Civilians can escape into the square, where our armies will be waiting for their surrender.”

“We should have every available medic standing by.”

“And if they won’t surrender?” Lyme challenged.

Coin’s lips almost formed a smile. “Then we will need a compelling voice to persuade them.” And a voice was something she had.

The Mockingjay and the Princess, two sides of the same coin. Heads or tails, luck was on the President’s side either way.

You tuned out after that, letting everyone else talk logistics. Throughout the entire conversation, you didn’t hear Finnick say a word. He was perhaps the most talkative person you had ever met, and yet now, he had nothing to say.

He only looked at you the whole time, like an artifact.

And even as you walked away, you still felt the cold burn of his stare.

You watched from a broken window of the Justice Building as the hovercrafts started, rubble blowing in the wind. The sight was magnetic, pulling you in to look at it. It was almost beautiful.

This world could’ve been beautiful.

You wished that this dance could have been more beautiful before it made your feet bleed.

You watched as the hovercrafts danced in the sky before dropping bombs on the mountains, dancing to the sound of explosions and then to the sound of cheers around you.

Dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing-

“This isn’t right.” A voice brought you out of your trance. You turned to see Katniss, her eyes on the scene outside the window, as mesmerized as you were. But mesmerized wasn’t the right word. She was stricken by horror.

Oh, if she saw what happened to you that could make you ever justify this. If she saw what happened to Peeta to make him hysteric. If she saw what happened to Johanna to make her numb. If she saw, then would she still be so transfixed then?

If she saw, would she still be standing?

If she saw, would she understand why you still were?

You stared at her for a moment, contemplating if you would say any of this before deciding against it, turning back and monotonously replying, “It’s fire catching, Everdeen.”

She scoffed, “And we’re lighting the match.”

Sharply, you countered, “Don’t forget that the Capitol poured gasoline everywhere first.” You turned back to see her already looking at you. A sigh left your lips. “They did this, Katniss.”

“And so anyone that had anything to do with it deserves to burn for it?”

No.

Yes.

“Did we deserve to burn, Girl on Fire?” You caught her off guard, anger slipping through the cracks of your voice, resolution filling your eyes. “Did we deserve to burn in those reapings, in those parades, in those damn Games as they all made a spectacle of it? All those kids and their families, did they deserve to burn just because the Capitol saw fit?” She was silent, tears coming to her eyes that she refused to let fall, so different from that girl you were with in the arena yet the exact same. Your eyes burned, too. “The way I see it, we’re fighting fire with fire.” You scoffed. “At least we’re giving them a way out.”

You didn’t stick around to hear Katniss’ response, walking away to find whoever would tell you what do next. You could’ve stood by that window for the rest of the night, watching as the terror unfolded, but you had more important things to do than watch the fire.

You had to go light a match.

You examined yourself in the mirror blankly. You were donning a black costume, and a costume it was. Because what was a costume if not an impersonation of something you were not?

But someone thought that this was what you were. Someone thought that you could be a leader. Cinna did—or at least that’s what Effie Trinket told you. You didn’t know why she seemed to be in charge of “design” or why she showed such an interest in you, but you supposed it wasn’t so unusual for an artifact.

Your makeup artists did their jobs fabulously, painting your face until you were almost unrecognizable, until you looked like that girl from before The Games, that girl that the people of Panem knew and loved. With this makeup, you couldn’t see the circles under your eyes, the discolouration of your face. They made you look alive again.

On the outside, at least.

On the inside, you weren’t sure if there was any makeup that could repair the damage that’d been done.

Your hair had been braided into an updo, like a crown. They tried to give you back your necklace, the one Finnick gave to you before The Games, but you never wanted to see that necklace again, never wanted to see a rose ever again.

You would hate the smell of roses for the rest of your life.

“It’s time.” You looked away from your reflection to see Haymitch standing at the door. You nodded to him, glancing back at the mirror one last time before exiting the room. Katniss fell into step with you both as you made your way toward the train tunnel, but remained silent. You didn’t speak, either.

Soon, you were joined by the rest of your Star Squad, but you avoided any and all eye contact with Finnick. It’d be a shame to cry and ruin all that beautiful makeup on your face.

It’d be a shame to feel something right now when you felt so numb.

But you’d quickly be feeling a lot.

“Don’t worry, Katniss. There’ll be survivors,” Boggs tried to reassure. She glanced at him, but didn’t respond.

Haymitch was more concentrated on what you came here to do. “Let’s focus on what it is you gotta say.” He looked in between both of you. “Now, Plutarch wrote a speech that either of you can read-”

“No,” you both simultaneously said, briefly glancing at each other.

Haymitch sighed, throwing the cards to the side. “Okay, didn’t think so. Let’s, uh…” he stopped you both, standing in front of you. “But just remember you’re talking to everybody. Not just the rebels, but the Capitol, the survivors in 2. We want them to lay down their arms. So you- both of you might wanna experiment with a little sensitivity, warmth.”

They have the upper-hand, that’s what he was really saying. But you understood how this worked. You’ve danced this dance a million times already.

“Don’t worry, Haymitch. I know how to fake it.” He looked over at you as if he wanted to say something, but Boggs spoke before he could.

“Make it quick, you’re exposed.”

Katniss walked toward the tunnel first, turning once she was far enough to face the rest of you. They decided that she would go first. She had been at this for a while now, much longer than you.

You’re lucky, you know.

How so?

You just are.

Maybe the Katniss Everdeen that you met in the training centre was lucky, but this one, the one who shot an arrow at the force field in the Quarter Quell, the one who became a symbol before she could even blink… you weren’t so sure that this one was so lucky. Not anymore. Not in this world.

Luck didn’t exist in this new world.

“This is Katniss Everdeen, speaking to all of the loyalists from the heart of district 2-”

“Survivors! Inbound!”

The sound of the train’s horn became audible to you, its wheels screeching against the train tracks. Boggs went running for Katniss while a hand grabbed your shoulder. This time, you couldn’t hold back the flinch.

“We need to go, Y/N.” And then your body went rigid. 

That was your name.

That was your name coming from Finnick Odair.

You didn’t even notice when he moved so close to you.

You swallowed, nodding, but it was like your feet were cemented to ground. You couldn’t move. If you moved, if you turned around, then you’d be looking right into his eyes.

Oh, there was time when the only thing you wanted to do was stare into his eyes all day. And maybe the problem was that you still wanted to.

You closed your eyes, inhaling a shaky breath, and when you opened them, the survivors were jumping off the train, being forced down to the ground, guns pointed at them, loud noise everywhere. Suddenly, you couldn’t take your eyes off of what was happening, even as every bone in your body begged you to, even as your head spun.

Finnick’s hand was still on your shoulder, but neither of you moved. None of you did. 

Another man jumped off, looking disoriented, but what drew your attention to him wasn’t his appearance but the gun in his hand. The grip on your shoulder got tighter. 

“Drop it! Drop your weapon! You! Drop it,” Boggs shouted, aiming his machine gun at him as he moved in your direction. “Drop the gun! Drop it-”

Suddenly, a gun went off, and everyone was screaming. You ducked down, eyes frantically darting everywhere before they settled on Katniss, running towards him, yelling. Your eyes widened, a wave of déjà vu passing over you as you remembered this exact scenario in the Quell, Katniss running towards danger and you running after her.

And just like that, even though you were paralyzed by fear, you quickly shot up, running after her without a thought. “Katniss!”

“Y/N!”

“Stop! He needs help!” She screamed as you were about to reach her. The next moment happened too fast for you to grasp it, the man jabbing his gun at her chin and cocking it. You skidded to a stop where you were, your breath catching in your throat.

Boggs was shouting, but your ears rang. It was almost as if you could feel that barrel on your own skin, and maybe it was because you had.

Snow’s voice rang through your head, Tell me about the rebel plan, Y/N.

You’re gonna have to kill me first.

Oh, sweet girl. He had knelt down next to you. I will make you wish that you died in that arena.

The man’s voice shook you out of your daze. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t shoot you.”

“Drop the gun!”

Katniss was silent, staring right into his eyes, but you saw what was behind the brave façade she was putting on. She didn’t have a reason.

“She can’t.” His eyes went to you, widening as if he hadn’t realized you were there. You stepped forward, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. Inside, you were shaking, but on the outside, you were calm and collected. On the inside, you were just a tribute in this game, but on the outside, you were the victor that everyone had crowned you.

“We blew up your mine. But you burned her district to the ground- my district to the ground.” You stepped closer, your resolve hardening. “So I guess we both have every reason to want to kill each other, but, really, does that make sense?” You asked, not looking away from his eyes once.  “You know who I am. You know who she is, and I can bet that you know a few of the people standing behind me. So many people that the Capitol has rooted for, that you have rooted for- why would we be doing this? After the riches, and the glitz, and the glamour, why would we fight back against a system that has supposedly given us everything?”

Because they took everything from you first.

You took another step closer, putting your hands up when he jabbed the gun in Katniss’ neck. “Look around you.” He quickly glanced around before his eyes fell back on you. “Are these the people you want to kill? The same people that you cheered for?” Slowly, your hands fell. “Why are you fighting us? Why are you fighting the rebels? You’re neighbours. You’re family.”

He looked up at you for a few seconds, but those seconds felt like hours. In his eyes, you could see evil, chaos. But you also a sliver of humanity, and you prayed to God that you reached past the chaos to the humanity. You prayed to whoever would listen that he heard you. And, maybe, for the first time, the universe was on your side, because his gun slowly lowered to the ground.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Katniss was stuck in a trance until you pulled her up, but you weren’t so focused on her. Your eyes panned over the people, your people and the loyalists alike, but they were all just people, you realized.

They were all just people.

“There is no our side or your side,” you yelled, backing away from the man and facing everyone. “There is only freedom and captivity. These people are not your enemy.” You turned, facing the rest of the crowd. “We all have one enemy. And that’s Snow.” Tears gathered in your eyes. “He does not care who you are or how loyal you are, how important you are—to him, we are all just pieces in a game.”

You pointed to your people behind you. “Katniss Everdeen, Haymitch Abernathy, Finnick Odair, Peeta Mellark, Annie Cresta, Johanna, Beetee, Enobaria- we are all that is left from three generations of victors. The rest of them are dead.” The faces of those that you killed flashed through your mind. “Slaughtered in the Quarter Quell or killed in the aftermath, it’s all the same. They were murdered by the Capitol—and it didn’t matter how important, or loyal, or loved they were- their lives were ended like they didn’t mean a thing.”

“And they would do the same to any of you if it benefit them.” You shook your head, raising your voice. “Stop killing for him.” You paused, breathing heavily. Your fight was not with people in the districts. Your fight was with one person and one person only. It was time that everyone else saw that. “Tonight, turn your weapons to the Capitol. Turn your weapons to Snow.”

Before you could say another word, gunfire erupted and you were falling to the ground.

And then your vision went black.

“Please, I don’t know anything,” you sobbed, fighting against your restraints, but it was no use.

Snow tutted, coming out from the shadows in which he hid. “Oh, Y/N, I wish I could believe that.”

Your body shook. “Please, I’m telling the truth, I don’t know anything about a revolution.”

“And yet all of your comrades did?”

You rapidly shook your head back and forth, worsening the pounding in your mind. They kept telling you about an uprising, but you didn’t know what they were talking about. They said you knew, but you didn’t know. They said that Katniss knew, that Peeta knew, that Johanna knew, that Finnick knew, but they couldn’t have.

You didn’t know.

You didn’t know where they were.

You prayed that Finnick was safe, but if he wasn’t, then you prayed that he was dead. You’d rather him be dead than ever face what you were facing now.

“They didn’t. I didn’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Snow looked at you silently for a few moments, and you had no idea what he was thinking. Then brought his hand up. You flinched, but his hand only went to your hair, petting it. The look in his eyes was almost something like pity, you realized, but it wasn’t real. You didn’t know how long you’d been there, wherever you were, but in the time you there, you learned that President Snow was incapable of sympathy.

You even thought that he enjoyed this.

“Oh, my dear princess… I would’ve hoped that you would’ve learned to be honest with me by now,” he sighed, and then he took his hand away and looked away from you altogether, looking to the Peacekeeper that’d moved to the wall. “Again. And let’s be a little more… effective this time.” He moved to walk away, and you shook your head.

“No, no- please don’t- please, please- no- no!”

You shot up, panting, your hands digging into blankets. Your eyes darted around the room and you realized you were back in your bed in the medical centre. A hand was placed over yours and you immediately shuffled away, your eyes going to the person and meeting blue, concerned orbs.

Finnick held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me.” Your chest still rapidly fell up and down, but for some reason his presence calmed you down and put you into a panic all at the same time.

Only Finnick could do that to you.

You closed your eyes, blinking the remnants of your nightmare away, even if that nightmare wasn’t a nightmare but rather just the life you so happened to live. You’re here, Y/N. You’re alive.

But why?

“How am I alive?” you croaked, looking down at the dull bed sheets instead of into his eyes. It was funny: you looked down to avoid the blue of his eyes, but the colour of these sheets was so similar. 

What’s your favourite colour?

It’s blue, not really dark or light either. Sort of green- it’s close to grey, too.

Now that colour just made you want to cry.

Finnick didn’t say anything for a moment, as if he was shocked that you were even speaking to him. And you were, too. You hadn’t spoken to him in weeks, and if you went back to the last time you spoke, back in the arena, you would’ve never thought that this was how it would turn out. Even if you went back to just your first days in the Capitol, you still could’ve never imagined a reality where you didn’t speak to Finnick.

But you could’ve never imagined any of this happening in the first place.

If you went back to the night you met him, you could’ve never imagined how deeply you’d fall for this boy.

And you never could’ve imagined how much it’d hurt when you hit the ground.

Finnick’s voice was low when he finally spoke. “You were shot back in 2. But the bullets were stopped by your costume. Cinna made sure that it was bulletproof.”

Cinna.

The way people spoke about him, in the past tense, the way you hadn’t seen him anywhere. You’d figured that he was dead.

You wondered how many more people would die for this revolution before you could all be free.

“The doctor says you sustained minor injuries, bruised rib, bruised lung. But nothing worse than the injuries you came back from the Capitol with.” At that, you turned your head to face him, meeting his eyes immediately. His eyes were soft but almost hard. He was almost looking at you the same way he did after you volunteered for Annie. In his eyes, you saw care, confusion, sadness, some anger, and emotions you couldn’t name, but most of all, you could see the pure exhaustion weighing him down.

He stared at you for a few seconds, or maybe a few minutes, maybe longer than that—time didn’t seem to exist. “Why would you do that, Y/N?” He whispered. And in that moment, you knew you weren’t talking to the Prince of Panem, the victor of The 65th Hunger Games, or the soldier who wanted to build a better world.

You were just talking to Finnick.

And that scared you.

Your breath hitched.

Why would you do that?

Finn-

Why would you volunteer?

Because you had to.You volunteered for Annie because you had to, the same way you did what you just did because you had to. To you, there was no choice, only one path to follow.

“I did what I was meant to do, Finnick.” Even as you willed it not to, your body betrayed you, your voice cracking on his name, but this time, you kept eye contact. And even though you were talking to Finnick, the Finnick that held you at night and soothed you when you cried, your Finnick, he was not talking to Y/N, not the Y/N that he held and soothed.

That Y/N could not talk to Finnick, not this Finnick.

If she did, you didn’t know if you’d ever get her back again.

He was shaking his head before you even finished speaking. “No, you could’ve died.” I’m already dead.

“But I didn’t.” But I did.

“But you almost did!” You flinched as his hands went up in the air, and then he froze, freezing you with him. You flinched. You flinched like he was gonna hit you, and he saw that. You cursed yourself immediately, wishing you could take it back as the look that encompassed his eyes became hurt.

There were few times when Finnick ever looked at you like that, and you could remember each as if they just happened. You never wanted to see that look on his face again, to be the reason for that look.

Time stopped again. You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to apologize, but you couldn’t find the words. And before you could, time picked back up. Finnick’s hands fell down to the bed, and he looked away from you, lowering his voice. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/N.”

Tears welled in your eyes. He didn’t know what he was saying. “You could have the world at your fingertips, Finnick.”

“There is no world for me if you’re not in it.” He looked back at you. And you couldn’t tell if your imagination was playing tricks on you, but you could’ve sworn there were tears in his eyes, too. “You’re my world, Y/N.” And just like that, any hope you had of remaining invulnerable shattered and the dam you were trying to hold in your eyes broke, tears falling down your face.

You shook your head, silent sobs wracking your body. Did he have any idea the effect he had on you? Did he have any idea what he was doing to you? “Why are you saying these things?”

Something akin to a scoff left his lips. “Because it’s true-”

“No- no, they’re not-”

Finnick latched onto your hand, making you look right at him. This time, you saw tears trailing down his cheeks, and they seemed so real. “Y/N, I swear to you on everything I believe in that I’m telling you the truth.”

You wished it was the truth. You wished that this was real. You had been wishing that your pretending could become real for ages now.

But you’d danced this dance long enough to know that wasn’t gonna happen.

Even if Finnick had convinced himself that it would.

“It’s impossible.”

“I l-”

“Ms Y/L/N?” You both turned the source of the new voice, finding your doctor at your door. She glanced between you both carefully as you ripped your hands away from Finnick’s, wiping at the tears that’d fallen and the ones that continued to fall. “May I speak with you, please?” She requested, glancing at him.

He quickly stood up, but this time, you weren’t looking. “Yeah, I’ll, uh- I’ll head out.” He paused for a second, like he was waiting for you to say something, but you weren’t sure that you could continue to speak to him right now, even if you wanted to. When you remained silent, you heard his shoes pitter-patter against the ground as he made his way out of the room.

When he was gone, you exhaled and Dr. Terren looked back at you. She hesitated, “Did I… interrupt something?”

“No,” you breathed out. “Nothing important.”

She nodded after a beat, getting right into her medical talk, but she didn’t look so convinced.

And you weren’t sure that you were, either.

You were hit bad, the doctor said, but it could’ve been worse. And she was right. It could’ve been worse.

You didn’t feel a thing. Lung, ribs—all you felt was heartache. Maybe it was good that you couldn’t feel the pain. But you couldn’t be sure.

She kept pushing the same idea: therapy. That’s where Johanna was. That’s where Peeta was. But that wasn’t gonna be where you were. Terren kept talking about trauma, about how this near-death experience called for you to talk to someone, but really, what good would that do?

Would that therapist understand? Did they go through what you went through? Did they understand what you were going through? You didn’t have time to stop and talk about your feelings, if you could even sort them out into words, nor did you want to reminisce over anything that happened while you were in the Capitol.

Even if reminiscing was all you could do. 

When Terren left, you ripped the IV out of your arm, leaving your hospital room to go to the other room they gave you. At least that one wasn’t filled with your favourite colour.

Your room in 13 was grey, like most things here. It was drab, but you wouldn’t complain. Anything was better than the Capitol. The door to your room slid open, and then you stopped. On your floor was the same black box Katniss left you, the same one you watched Finnick from.

Poison.

You swallowed, deciding to ignore the box altogether and go to your ensuite. You never wanted to see that video again. Watching it from that box was the first time you ever saw it, and it would be the last.

They must have gone through extra effort to hide it from you in the Capitol. They made you believe he was dead. You believed this was such conviction that, when you saw him again after the rescue, you thought you were dreaming.

You even thought you’d died.

You even wished you did.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, dead is what you looked like. That bullet may not have killed you, but you still looked like a corpse. You’re very lucky to be alive, Y/N, Dr. Terren told you. 

Luck.

If luck was what kept you alive, then it wasn’t good luck at all. Luck would’ve been that bullet puncturing like it was intended to.

Your hand went to your ribs, looking at the bandages wrapped around them in the mirror. Then your hand travelled to your hair. Long and silky, so sought after in Panem. But as you ran your hands through it, you didn’t feel its softness. All you felt was Snow’s hand, petting you as you begged him not to kill you.

And then that turned into you begging for the exact opposite.

You don’t know how long you were looking at your reflection before you were opening and closing the sink drawers, your hands moving with a mind of their own. Part of you didn’t know what you were doing, but another part of you must have as you suddenly stopped, having found what you were looking for.

Scissors.

You picked them up, staring at them as if they were treasures, watching the light glare off the blades. You didn’t know what you were doing.

All you knew was that this feeling was tearing you apart.

And that’s all you could focus on.

Suddenly, your hand holding the scissors was moving. You still didn’t know what you were doing, but before you could find out, your name sounded.

“Y/N?”

You looked up, seeing Katniss stand in the doorway, confusion on her face that slowly contorted to fear. She glanced down at your hands, making you do the same. Quickly, you moved the scissors away from your wrist, unknowing of how they even got there.

You looked back at Katniss, your mouth opening and closing. You didn’t know what to say. Finally, you stammered, “I- I-” she looked back up at you and you realized that she, too, didn’t know what to say. “My hair. It’s- I want to cut my hair.”

That’s not what you were doing.

Katniss seemed to know that, not looking convinced in the slightest. She was quiet for a few moments, eyes on the scissors before she was walking towards you. Gently, she pried them out of your hand, as if you were a child holding a gun.

Then her eyes met yours. The eyes that were once hard as stone now looked at you with softness. “I’ll help you,” she whispered. She nodded to herself, repeating, “I’ll help you.”

You were grateful for her going with your story, even if it was just because she didn’t know what to say to what she really saw. She moved behind you, exhaling and getting ready right away.

And she may not have known this, but in just her walking in, she had already helped you more than you could’ve ever helped yourself.

Muffled chatter came to your ears as you sat in one of the common areas. Most people ate in the cafeteria, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go in there. Finnick was in there, along with Katniss, and you couldn’t really talk to either of them right now.

With Finnick, you didn’t know where you stood. He said so much to you in your hospital room, after you were shot, but you didn’t know what to make of any of it. He was talking to you like you were more than just fake lovers—and truth be told, that’s what you were. You may have forgotten that for a while or pretended for too long, but it was fake. The dance changed every so often, but at its core, it was the same.

Finnick was acting like this was a dance you engaged in voluntarily, like this was a dance he enjoyed dancing. While you had no one you’d rather dance with, you knew it wasn’t the same for him. You saw the way he looked at Annie; you saw it for the entirety of your “relationship.” He looked at her with such tenderness and care, like she put the stars in the sky. The second you saw her, the second you saw the way he looked at her, you knew that you didn’t stand a chance.

But for some reason, in that hospital room, you almost felt like he looked at you that way.

And that didn’t make sense.

That didn’t make sense at all.

Another part of you didn’t want him to see you like this, not again. Katniss did, and you weren’t ready to see her so soon, either. It was a weak moment, you told yourself, but you were fine now. You were here for a reason—you were still here for a reason.

Show them that they can.

You didn’t have hope, but you were still the hope of so many people, the hope of Panem. You weren’t gonna let them down. You were not going to stand by and let Snow’s reign of terror continue. 

You made a pact with yourself. As Katniss was cutting your hair, you promised yourself that you would see this through. Afterward, it didn’t matter what happened, but you would fight until this country was free. 

Even if you died for it in the process.

“Looking good, Princess.”

Your head shot up from your tray and, for the first time since you arrived in 13, you felt a smile arise on your face. “Johanna.” Your tray was pushed to the side as you stood, wrapping your arms around her.

“Easy. I hear you’re injured.”

“I’m fine, Jo,” you reassured her, pulling away. She mirrored your smile, a sight you never thought you’d see again after what you heard in the Capitol.

“You always are, aren’t you?” She retorted. You only continued to smile, opting not to respond. She must’ve seen your discomfort—of course she did, she knew you so well—so she changed the subject. “It’s good to see you.”

“Ditto,” you responded, even if it was a little untrue. You loved Johanna. She was the first person you looked for when you got to 13, and seeing her right now made you so unbelievably happy, a happy you didn’t anticipate feeling for a long time, but it wasn’t good to see her like this.

She had always put on a brave face, was always so much stronger than you, but right now, she looked like she was barely holding on. Her eyes were hollow, bags underneath them that matched yours. Her face was pale. And the beautiful red streaks that had once filled her hair, the hair that she loved, was now gone. It was all gone.

The Capitol took it just to show her that they could.

And even though you cut yours out of your own will, they still took yours, too.

Eventually, she sat down with you, resting her head on your shoulder. Before, when things were bad before they got worse, you’d sit together in the Capitol, you, her and Finnick, and you’d pass time together, just like this.

Except Finnick wasn’t here.

However, you convinced yourself that it was for the best.

Annie. He had Annie. You volunteered for Annie, got yourself in this position for Annie, so that he could have a life with her, the life he always wanted. He may have denied it, or maybe he didn’t know that you knew, but some nights, he’d dream about her, talking in his sleep. He wanted to marry her, to have kids with her.

He could do that now. This is what you did this for, so that he could have his happy ending. Even if it meant taking away yours for good.

Like she was reading your thoughts, Johanna muttered, “How come you aren’t in the cafeteria with prince charming?”

You stiffened, but you still knew how to dance this dance, deflecting, “Why aren’t you?”

She lightly chuckled. “Good point.” She didn’t answer, even though you knew the reason why, just as she probably knew the answer to her question. You expected her to drop it, but you supposed you should’ve known better from Johanna Mason. She was silent for a few moments until she spoke again. “He loves you, you know.”

You sighed, “Jo-”

“That boy loves you with all he has, Y/N.” She lifted her head up from your shoulder, making you look at her. “Always has, still does.”

Oh, Finnick and you were incredible. You made the masses believe that the love you shared was real- he made them believe it. You didn’t have to do any work. It wasn’t acting for you, but you knew it was for him.

Not even Johanna knew that it wasn’t real. She might’ve suspected, but for all she knew, you two were really in love. You wished that was true. For years, you wished that was true.

But your wishes rarely ever came true.

“It’s not that simple,” you said.

She slightly tilted her head. “Isn’t it?” Her words echoed throughout your head. Isn’t it? It should’ve been. In a different world, maybe it was that simple. In a different world, maybe the two of you really were as in love as everyone thought you were. In a different world, maybe all those wishes and all that pretending could’ve been a reality.

But that was not this world.

So you didn’t say anything, instead resting your head on her shoulder this time,  conveying your thoughts to her without speaking them.

I wish it was.

You lied on your bed in silence, staring up at the plain ceiling and imagining patterns of your own. Back at home, the ceilings had colourful swirls on them, muted tones swooshing together. But that wasn’t really your home. The home you came from didn’t have pretty designs or fancy furniture. The home you came from had paint peeling off the walls. The home you came from didn’t have furniture at all.

But that wasn’t really your home, either.

At some point, you think, that place was something like a home. When your dad was still alive, you’d wake up every morning to the scent of food cooking in the kitchen, even if it was only a bit. But then he died, and there was no one to buy food at all.

That year, you barely ate a thing.

The next year, you picked up the slack. You could still remember it, being ten years old and finding your father’s hunting gear. Going into the forest, you were scared. You didn’t want to harm an animal.

But you did.

And then you did it every time after that.

When you came home, you saw the way your mother looked at you. Somewhere inside of her, something cracked. Somewhere inside of her, she saw something that you couldn’t. And, after that, she started looking at you a lot less.

Five years later, you were sent off to The Games. You could remember seeing your mother in the crowd, but when you got into the Justice Building, she wasn’t there. You waited. And she never showed. But you held your tears and told yourself you had to stay strong, for her, because she couldn’t.

You thought about her in the arena. You thought about her when you picked up that sword. You thought about her when you took your first life. You thought about her when Bay died. And you thought about her when Claudius announced that you, Y/N Y/L/N, had won the 67th Hunger Games.

Was she watching? you wondered. Is she happy?

When you got back to 4 and opened the door to your house, her jaw fell. Like she didn’t know. Like she was shocked. Like she never thought you’d win at all.

Like she didn’t want you to.

Mom, I- I won. Did you watch?

Silence. I watched. I tried, I just- I couldn’t watch you kill after that first- that-... The boy. A boy your age. A boy you stabbed into. A boy who you watched bleed out. A boy whose blood was on your hands–and with the way your mother stared at you, you almost felt like the stains were still there.

And they might as well have been.

She hugged you. But it didn’t feel like she was doing it because she missed you. It felt like she was doing it because that’s what a mother is supposed to do. They’re supposed to hug you–they’re supposed to love you.

But you weren’t you anymore.

You moved into the new house together. Then, soon after, you were moving into Finnick’s, leaving the house to her. You think she was relieved, relieved that she wouldn’t be sleeping in the same house as a killer.

And now, as you lied on this rough bed in 13, there was no house at all. No old house, no new one, no Finnick’s house, no district 4 at all. No mom, either.

What was the last thing I said to her? you wondered. Why can’t I remember the last thing I said to her?

Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t even remember when you last spoke to her. Your own mother. She was the woman who gave birth to you, the woman who raised you. Yet you couldn’t remember the last time you were in the same room.

And now you’d never be in the same room again.

A burning grew in your throat, but you didn’t let the tears fall, blinking them away. You’d cried an ocean of tears already. Now wasn’t the time to cry anymore. Now was the time to be strong. 

You never wanted this. You didn’t choose this, to be princess of a country that only abused its citizens, a country that threw you to the wolves then claimed they loved you when you came out seemingly unscathed, a country that wouldn’t have loved you so much if they knew just how scathed you were.

You did not choose this. But, for some reason, it chose you. The people chose you. The people believed in you. They believed that you were some sort of hero, coming to save them all from this villain that had hurt them all so badly. They didn’t know that it wasn’t true, that you weren’t a hero. They didn’t know that you were scared of the villain, too.

But if the people in the districts could believe in you, the people being bombed and attacked, the people grieving the loss of their loved ones–if they could believe that, then you could, too.

If the people of Panem believed you could be a hero, then you promised yourself that that’s what you’d be.

“So I changed the chemical compound of the powder, adding more fluorine to excite the electrons, causing them to jump more rapidly from orbital to orbital and ignite faster as-”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Beetee paused, like he was surprised that you couldn’t understand. To him, it was so simple, but to most people, like yourself, it had no meaning. “Chemical reaction,” he reiterated. “I increased the strength of the chemical reaction so you can hit more.”

Your mouth formed an O shape. “Makes sense. That’s all you had to say, y’know.”

His mouth opened, likely to say something sweet and snarky as per usual when the two of you spoke, but he was halted by the door to the armory sliding open. You both turned to see The Mockingjay making her way into the room.

Your breath got caught in your throat for a moment before you regulated it, calming yourself down. You hadn’t seen Katniss since she walked in on you in the bathroom. The way her eyes met yours told you that she remembered that day well, too. But if you knew anything about Katniss Everdeen, it was that feelings were not her strong suit. If you knew her as well as you thought you did, then she’d pretend it never happened.

You hoped she’d pretend. If you knew Katniss as well as you thought you did, then she was just as good at pretending as you.

“You wanted to see me?” she queried, directing her vision to Beetee. A breath left you.

“Yeah, I wanted to show you both your new arrows. I adde-”

You cut him off, “He did something to the chemicals to make the arrows better.”

“Reaction. I increased the force of the chemical reaction.”

“Same difference.”

Beetee took a deep breath, closing his eyes and then reopening them. “Since you’re so… well-versed, you can explain it to her.” You snorted at his response while he wheeled away. Beetee always had the ability to make you laugh, even if it wasn’t his intention.

When you looked away from his retreating figure, you were met with Katniss staring right at you, realizing she was still in the room. Her brows furrowed, a light, light smile on her face that would otherwise be invisible to a stranger. “I’ve never seen Beetee get so… irritated.”

The tension in your shoulders dissipated as they shook with your laughter. Nobody had seen him get annoyed often, unless you were around. “Yeah, that happens when you're stuck in the Capitol with someone for years on end.” 

Beetee was always a pretty good friend. You met at a Capitol function, of course, and from then on, you made it a point to annoy him whenever you could. Besides amusing you, it also served as a reminder that he was a human, too, not just some Capitol pawn.

Snow didn’t sell Beetee, but he used him in so many other ways. You and Finnick were their pride, but insiders knew that Beetee was their prize. He was perhaps the smartest person you’d ever met, but you figured that, every once in a while, he deserved to let his guard down and just be normal for a few minutes.

And, deep down, you knew he wasn’t as annoyed as he seemed.

Even though you were laughing, the smile on the brunette’s face slowly dimmed as she looked down. Your smile disappeared. “What is it?”

She was quiet for a second until she spoke, “You and the other victors… you all seemed close.”

Seemed.

Pictures flashed through your mind, pictures of your time in the Capitol. Normally, when you thought about your time there, you pictured all the bad, all the conversations behind closed doors, all the grown men and women who used you when you were still a child. What you didn’t think about was all the kids who were there with you, all the kids who had to grow up just as you did.

Some of these people were people you killed, the same people you had conversations with, the same people who were going through exactly what you were going through.

You were close.

Until you weren’t.

You didn’t say anything for a while, letting yourself remember it all. “Yeah,” you finally responded. “Yeah, we were.” And you didn’t say anything more on the matter. You didn’t know what more there was to say. You cleared your throat, changing the topic. “Anyways, this is what Beetee wanted to show us.” You picked up the arrows, showing them to her.

She hummed, looking back up. You knew that she knew what you were doing, but fortunately, she went along with it. “Never knew you could shoot.”

“Oh, please, Everdeen, anyone who grew up in the districts can shoot.”

“Yeah, doesn’t mean they’re any good,” she retorted, shrugging. 

You narrowed your eyes. “Is that a challenge?”

She shrugged again. “I don’t know, is it?”

Another laugh left your lips, your third time laughing since arriving in 13. “You’re on, Girl on Fire.” You grabbed one of the non-incendiary arrows and a random bow lying on the table, loading the arrow in. 

You faced your body to the targets across the room, bringing the bow up to your ear, pulling the arrow back, and eying the red. The corners of your lips quirked upward and, as soon as you turned your head to face Katniss, you let it fly. The look on her face made your smirk widen, turning to see that you hit the target dead-centre.

“How the hell did you just do that?” She walked closer, shock etched onto her face. 

“Precision. And years of experience,” you replied, lowering the bow. “My father was a hunter.” 

When you looked back at her, she had a different expression, like she was remembering something. Her eyes glazed over. “So was mine.” Her eyes found yours again, and this time, there was something there that wasn’t there before.

Back when you met, she was just Katniss Everdeen, and you were just the Princess. But now, you were both a lot more than that.

It seemed that you and Katniss Everdeen were more alike than you thought.

Right before the 74th Hunger Games, when you and Finnick were watching the training scores on TV, you didn’t think the tributes from 12 stood a chance, even though the girl had the highest score. 

Watching the Games, you disregarded them completely, even as they got just as many sponsors as your tributes. You watched as Haymitch Abernathy actually tried, actually cared for these kids, but not even that deterred you. 

You ignored the possibility of them winning at all. You wanted it to be your tributes, so badly. They were good. You wanted them to survive, one of them to survive, to make it out of this, to live the rest of their lives. But you should’ve known better.

No matter your best efforts, those kids died, and there was nothing you could’ve done about it. 

After that, you assumed it’d go to the Careers. Glimmer and Marvel were crowd favourites, flashy and luxurious, but not as cutthroat as Cato and Clove. A part of you even rooted for them. Maybe tradition would be broken, you thought, maybe it’d go to that kid from 11. Thresh had the determination and resilience to win.

That’s why you were surprised when you turned on the TV to see Peeta and Katniss as the last ones standing.

One of us has to die; they have to have their victor.

No. They don’t.

You were even more surprised when they both walked out of that arena alive.

Peeta became Panem’s golden boy, and he knew exactly what strings to pull, as if he’d been doing this his whole life. Katniss, on the other hand, was not a performer, not the performer you knew Snow wanted her to be. You could tell she was angry, but being angry was not her job.

You knew this because it wasn’t yours, either.

People like you and her didn’t get to be angry. You were supposed to be grateful for the opportunity that the Capitol so generously bestowed upon you, not angry or sad or guilty. That wasn’t for you.

You saw so much of yourself in her. And for that reason, you thought you’d never meet her. Too rebellious, too jagged, too questioning–she was nothing that Snow wanted around the Princess. You were right; you didn’t meet her.

Until the time came for the 75th Hunger Games.

You were surprised when she was the one who came up to you. She was confident and put-together, but you knew better. This was your dance she was dancing. You could hear the lyrics so well.

She was scared.

And she was angry.

Her attitude made you like her. You could’ve been friends, you noted, but not in this lifetime, not when she was meant to be your opponent. You never thought that you and Katniss Everdeen would be friends.

Little did you know, she’d become one of the only friends you had.

“C’mon, Everdeen. You’re going easy on me,” you said, holding your arms out. Katniss stood opposite to you, lightly panting with her hands held up.

“I’m just- I’m just tired-”

“No, you’re not. You’re going easy,” you deadpanned. “Stop stalling and hit me.”

The brunette hesitated for a moment before going in for a punch that you easily caught. “You call that a punch? Where’s that Mockingjay fire?”

She scoffed, yanking her fist out of your grasp. “I’m not going to hit you, Y/N. You were just shot-”

“Well, the revolution doesn’t care if I’m shot or not.” You gestured to your body. “I’m perfectly fine. So hit me like you mean it.”

“No-”

“Hit me like I’m Snow.”

She scoffed again. “This is ridiculous. I’m not going to hit you. You’ve barely healed-”

You cut her off. “Fine. If you won’t, then I will.” Without another word, you threw a sharp punch for her face that she narrowly dodged. You didn’t miss a beat, throwing another one right after, and another one right after that like rapid fire.

She blocked your hits, but your pace didn’t alter. The two of you moved around the ring, but Katniss' hands remained in front of her face, not once swinging. You weren’t relenting; you weren’t gonna stop until she swung back.

You had almost backed her into the corner when, suddenly, the wind was knocked out of you and your back was hitting the ground. The world spun. You blinked and you were back in the arena, lying on the ground with Johanna hovering over you. You opened them and you were back in the training room, and now it was Katniss that hovered.

“Holy shit, Y/N, are you okay?” Her eyes were worried and her voice was panicked. Holy shit, she actually hit me. With that realization, a smile slowly formed on your face. “What? Why are you smiling-”

She was abruptly cut off as you swept her feet out from under her, sending her to the ground right next to you. She groaned while you laughed, almost hysterical.

If the old you could’ve seen you now. You never thought you’d be friends with Katniss Everdeen, much less that you’d be laughing with her after she kicked you.

“It’s not that funny,” she heaved, but you didn’t stop, uncontrollably giggling. 

“You- you actually did it-” you cackled, tears in your eyes. She looked over at you, still panting, until you made eye contact and she was laughing, too.

You stayed there on the floor together for a while, laughing your hearts out. For all you knew, you wouldn’t get many moments like this for a while, moments where you could just lie down and rest. For all you knew, this revolution would kill you.

So there you were, the Princess and The Mockingjay, pretending that you were just Y/N, and she was just Katniss.

And for now, that made you forget about everything else.

“Please. Please, I’m begging you- please don’t do it again.” Your shoulders shook with sobs, vision blurred.

“Ah, you know that that is not how the game works, my dear.”

“Please- please, I don’t want to play anymore.”

Snow tutted. “You know the rules. You give me something, and you get something in return. If you do not give me anything, then I will take something.”

“Please, I don’t- I don’t have anything more to give-”

He sighed. “Is that so?” He didn’t give you time to say anything else. “In that case, I won’t take from you.”

You blinked the tears in your eyes away to look up at him, a chill going down your spine at his expression. He didn’t look angry. No, he was smiling. “W-what?”

He hummed. “I’ll take from Peeta.” Your heart dropped. You pulled at your restraints as he turned to leave the room.

“No, please! Please, stop! Stop!” He ignored you, walking out the door and letting the door slide closed behind him.

And then the room went black.

You shot up out of bed panting, heart racing with your eyes darting around the room. The walls were grey, but there was a window. There wasn’t a window where you were in the tribute centre. Moonlight shone into the room. There was light. There weren’t Peacekeepers waiting by your bed, waking you up when you fell asleep. You were alone. You were safe. It’s okay. You’re in 13. You’re alive.

You’re alive.

Somehow, that didn’t make it any better.

You breathed in and out slowly, trying to regain control of your breathing like how Dr. Terren showed you. When you were rescued, you couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t be consoled. This feeling that you felt right now was like that, but you don’t know if any panic attack could ever compare to that one. 

You were rescued. But it didn’t feel that way.

It didn’t feel that way at all.

Once you calmed down or reached some semblance of feeling calm, your mind went right back to Peeta. You hadn’t been to see him since you first arrived in 13–and even then, you didn’t speak. He wasn’t really in a condition to be spoken to. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. But there was more to it than that.

There was always more to it than what you were willing to acknowledge.

As if your body was moving on its own accord, you threw your bed sheets to the side, slipping on a sweater and sliding your feet into the slippers next to your bed. Walking out of the room, you didn’t spare the clock a glance, walking with a subtle determination that many wouldn’t understand.

You called it a victor’s drive. It was a certain determination that came with fighting for your life, even if it meant taking another’s. It was not wanting to kill, but doing it anyway. It was not wanting to live, but doing that, too.

There were many things a victor did not want to do. 

And there were just as many things that you’d do, anyway.

A part of you didn’t know where you were going while the other part was sure of herself. Regardless, you let your body take you to where your mind didn’t want to go, making your way through the dark hallways with no sound other than your feet heard.

Before you knew it, you stood in front of the glass wall that you hadn’t seen since you first got to 13. On the other side lied Peeta, looking no better than the last time you saw him. His screams echoed throughout your brain.

Please! Stop! No-

You screwed your eyes shut, trying to block out the noise that surrounded you even in such silence. His screams quieted after a few seconds, but no matter your resilience or techniques the doctor taught you, no matter what, you’d never be able to silence your song. 

There was a time when you almost believed that you could escape it, the music. When Finnick and you were pretending, it felt like you could really have it, a family, like one day it would be more than pretending. But now you knew that wasn’t possible.

This song would never skip.

And you’d be dancing until the day you died.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with blue ones staring back at you, as if he knew you were there. You took in a sharp breath, scared, but maintained your stare. His hair looked shorter and more unkept than you’d ever seen it. It wasn’t so gold anymore.

Peeta’s eyes were blue, but not blue like Finnick’s. They were bright like the sky and full of a childlike innocence that you no longer saw. His eyes weren’t so bright anymore.

He looked like a ghost.

And maybe that’s what you looked like, too.

Without thinking, you went for the door, pulling the handle only for it to remain still. You furrowed your brows, trying again with the same outcome. That’s when you saw the pin pad on the side and realized that it was locked.

Of course, it was. They weren’t gonna leave Peeta Mellark in a room by himself with the door unlocked. Not this Peeta.

This Peeta had to be strapped down to the bed because his one and only objective was to kill the woman he loved. This Peeta wasn’t the same Peeta you met at the parade.

This wasn’t him at all.

With that realization, you turned around, letting his eyes burn into your skull as you walked away. You weren’t sure of anything, but what you were sure of was that you couldn’t be alone right now. If you listened to the music by yourself right now, you didn’t know what you’d do.

Your feet pitter-pattered against the floor in quick motions. You didn’t know where you were going, just that you needed to find Johanna. If you couldn’t talk to Peeta, then you needed to talk to her. 

Suddenly, you turned a corner and went tumbling to the ground. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the fall, but it never came. Slowly, you opened them and the first thing you saw were another set of blue eyes, not bright or vibrant, but your favourite colour.

Finnick.

Your heart sped up. Suddenly, you could feel that the hands on your arms were his. Suddenly, you realized you were in Finnick Odair’s arms.

You think he only just realized that, too.

He cleared his throat, helping you up and letting you go. As soon as his hands were no longer on your skin, you felt cold. You felt just as cold as when the two of you were in the Capitol, standing outside together.

Except, now, you couldn’t hold each other like you did then.

Even if it was the one thing you wanted more than anything in the world.

Your breath got caught in your throat as you realized just how close he was. He was right there, in front of you.

You’re not alone in this, okay? I’m right here.

Right here.

And not at all at the same time.

He looked at you quietly, not saying a word, but after so long, you’d learned to read Finnick well. He looked like he had so much to say but couldn’t find the words to put them in. He looked like how he looked that night, that night that you were in the Capitol and that poor boy and girl died, that night that you kissed for the first time.

But as you looked at him, really looked at him, he also looked nothing like the Finnick you knew. You’d avoided looking into his eyes ever since you got to 13, in fear of what you’d see, and now that you finally were, you could see that his eyes weren’t so lively anymore. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

Could you ever?

“What are you-” he cleared his throat again, “What are you doing up?”

At his question, you diverted your eyes, suddenly finding the floors much more interesting to look at. “I, um, I couldn’t sleep,” you reasoned. You didn’t explain why.

“Yeah, neither could I,” he muttered back, voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t explain, either.

There was a time when you’d seek him out if you couldn’t sleep, a time when you’d go to him if you had a nightmare. That wasn’t possible anymore.

If you danced with him, you didn’t know if he’d be enough to keep you from collapsing.

If you danced with him, you didn’t know how much longer you’d be able to keep going.

After a beat of silence, you spoke, “I should, um… I should get going now.”

You moved to leave, but Finnick grabbing onto your wrist stopped you. You masked your flinch, not because someone was touching you anymore, but because of who that person was. Your skin ignited so hot that it burned.

“Wait, can-” he hesitated, “can we talk?”

Your breath hitched, back still turned to him. His voice was pleading, a tone you never would’ve imagined him taking when you first met. You closed your eyes at the memory, feeling tears gather.

You wanted to say yes—oh, you always wanted to say yes to Finnick. His happiness became the only thing you strived for. You stayed with him even when you knew he loved Annie, you fought for her, you volunteered for her, you pretended you were okay, you pretended you didn’t love him, you pretended all the time. 

But you couldn’t pretend anymore.

A nation was counting on you. People were counting on you. People needed you. 

You couldn’t fall apart right now. And if you talked to Finnick, you weren’t sure you’d be able to put yourself back together again.

“I-” your voice cracked, “I can’t-”

“Please. Please, Y/N, I just need to talk to you.” You shook your head, holding in the sobs that were begging to escape. 

Why was he doing this to you? Why, why, why, why, why, why-

“Please.”

Y/N, please. I’m just asking you to trust me. Please just trust me.

Trust you to do what?

I just need you to trust me, Y/N, please. Trust me.

I trust you.

You would die for this man. You died for this man. And if it came down to it, you’d die again if it meant that he’d get to live in a better world. But you couldn’t talk to him now.

If you talked to him, then it didn’t matter what the Capitol would throw at you, what bullets you’d take. Those eyes would drown you.

You couldn’t do this. Not now.

“No.” You removed your hand from his grasp and walked away as fast as you could, even as your feet felt anchored to the ground, each step hurting more and more. You didn’t turn back once. 

The tears that you held in fell as you walked away, running down your face like a waterfall. You walked faster and faster until your walk escalated into a run. The door to your room slid open before you ran in, locking it as it closed. You slid down the metal and let out a sob, more and more following it. 

Your hands went over your ears, trying to block out the music, but it only got louder and louder.

No, no, nothing is okay! 

We will never be free, Y/N.

Ladies and gentlemen, our tributes for the Hunger Games.

Mom?

President Snow used to sell me. 

We are both coming home, Y/N, I swear.

May the odds be ever in your favour, darling.

You screamed in agony, nearly ripping your hair out, uncaring if anyone heard you. Your body shook with sobs and your heart ached. It hurt so bad. You never thought it could hurt this bad. 

You didn’t wanna dance anymore. You didn’t wanna feel like this anymore. You didn’t wanna feel anymore at all if this was all it’d feel like.

But it didn’t matter. How you felt didn’t matter. What you wanted didn’t matter. It stopped mattering the second you won those Games, the second you stabbed that boy. You stopped being a person and became the person Snow wanted you to be. You became the Princess.

And now it was your job to make sure there wouldn’t ever be another Princess, another you, another Finnick, another Katniss, Peeta, Johanna, Haymitch, Annie, Bay—it was your job to make sure this never happened to anyone again, that there would never be another group of kids that were forced to kill each other and themselves in the process. It was your job to make sure nobody else ever felt how you felt right now.

As you reminded yourself of that, your sobs gradually subsided and your heart rate came down. You weren’t okay.

But you had to be. You still had things to do- dancing to do. 

You were gonna dance one last time, for this country, for all the kids that died, for the kids you were, for the kids you could’ve had, for yourself, and for the man that you loved. You were gonna dance until you couldn’t anymore. You were gonna dance until the music stopped. And amidst all the unknown, one thing was certain.

The day the music died, so would you.

It’s the things we love most, that destroy us.

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[wintersoldiersoul]

Darkness

Summary: Bucky helps you when you're feeling depressed.

Warnings: Depression, suicidal thoughts, mental health issues

A/N: Please don't read if you think it will trigger you in any way! I'm in my feels tonight and wish I had Bucky to comfort me. Also Raynor sucks but for the sake of this fic just pretend she doesn't.

Another night sat alone in your room. You could hear the laughter of the other Avengers out in the living room but you had no desire to join in. It made you sad that you didn’t care. You wanted to, you really did. But thinking about leaving the sanctuary of your bed and having to plaster a smile on your face was too exhausting. You weren’t like them. You weren’t a superhero. No, you were just a girl that happened to be in the right place at the right time. You had met Tony Stark when you were 16 and he had taken you in like a daughter. Since then, you had lived in the tower but you never really felt like a part of everything. The team loved you and included you in everything but in your head, it was all fake. 

You’ll never be like them. You’ll never truly belong, you told yourself.

Everyone was used to you being a bright light around the tower. You were always smiling, making everyone laugh, and doling out advice left and right to anyone who needed it. But recently, something within you was cracking. The sadness that had haunted you during your teenage years was back and it felt ten times stronger than it ever had. Your teammates blamed it on exhaustion from the back to back missions you waited up all night for them to come home from. They asked if you were okay and they believed you when you lied the word “yes” through your lips. You said that you were fine so they thought you were. 

Except for Bucky. Bucky knew there was something else going on. Both of you were introverted, something that you bonded over. You were both plagued with nightmares of your past which lead to many sleepless nights. One night when insomnia found you, you ran into him sitting on the couch watching tv. You opened up to him about your issues sleeping and the two of you made a deal: You’d come find each other when sleep evaded you. 

In the two months since, you had knocked on each other’s doors countless times late into the night. Sometimes you would watch a movie together, go get pizza from the 99 cent place down the block, or you would just lay together silently on opposite sides of the bed, enjoying the comfort of not being alone but not needing to speak.

Bucky had his fair share of mental health issues after his years being Hydra’s pawn. He was in a much better place now, due to the combination of medication and therapy that he had been through. But he knew the signs of someone struggling. They used to be constantly present in himself. He knew you weren’t okay.

You lay in your bed, staring mindlessly at the wall. As the chatter of your teammates drifted under the cracks of your bedroom door, silent tears rolled down your cheeks. You were tired of feeling this way. You didn’t get why you couldn’t just be happy like everyone else. Why you couldn’t just be normal. 

They don’t care if you’re out there or not. They don’t care about you or what happens to you. Maybe you should just do all of them a favor and delete yourself from their lives forever. 

Your mind was spiraling into darker and darker places by the second. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep doing this. Keep being here, alive. 

You heard the knock on the door, but it sounded so far away. You didn’t wanna see anyone but your depleted body and mind wouldn’t let you get out the words to send them away. The door creaked open and you heard footsteps leading towards your bed.

Bucky’s face appeared in front of you. He noticed your tear stained cheeks and the dark circles under your eyes. You weren’t okay and he knew it. “Y/N, can you talk to me, please?” 

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. You were so trapped in your own mind, your own thoughts. 

“Y/N…” he tenderly reached out his hand and pushed your hair out of your face. “Can you hear me?” His thumb swept over your face, wiping a fresh tear that had fallen. “Please, just say something. I’m so worried about you…” 

You had always dealt with depression. It was something that you had shared with Bucky during one of your sleepless nights. You blinked a few times and it was like the recognition hit your brain. You realized that he was in front of you, talking to you. As the realization crossed your mind, it was impossible to keep it inside any longer. You burst into tears, hot floods falling down your face. Bucky quickly pulled you into him, stroking your hair. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay, just let it out. Let it all out.” He whispered encouraging words in your ear as you broke down. 

Once you had calmed down, he got into the bed beside you, not wanting to leave you alone. “It’s bad again, isn't it?” He asked.

You nodded, still having trouble finding the words to express what you wanted to say.

The next two days, you didn’t get out of bed. Bucky wanted to give you the space you needed but he was also worried sick. He brought you food that for the most part went uneaten. He tried to get you to shower or at least change into clean clothes but you refused. You were catatonic, spending the days alternating between crying, sleeping, and staring at the wall.

The third day, Bucky was done giving you space. “Y/N, get up. We’re going out.”

“Out?” Your voice croaked as you spoke, having barely used it in days.

“Yup. Come on, at least put on some clean clothes.”

“Don’t wanna go out, Bucky.” Your voice was so monotonous, so not you. So unlike the bright, intelligent, resilient girl that he knew so well. 

“Too bad. You don’t have a choice.” He threw the covers off of you and turned on the light. “Up.” 

You groaned and slowly sat up, muscles sore and protesting the movement after being dormant for so long. 

“Here, I brought you clothes,” he handed you one of his sweatshirts and a pair of sweatpants. “Get changed. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

You changed into the clothes he brought you, taking in the scent of him on the sweatshirt. It smelled like comfort. Like home. 

A few minutes later, Bucky brought you outside to his car. You got in the passenger's seat and wordlessly stared out the window as he drove. You didn’t know where you were going and you didn’t care enough to ask. 

15 minutes of silence later, you arrived at your destination. The sign on the window read “Dr. Christina Raynor, Licensed Therapist.” “A therapist? Really? I’m not doing this.” “Yes, you are. You don’t have a choice. If you don’t get out of the car, I’ll fucking carry you inside. You can sit in silence through the whole appointment but you're going in there. I’ll wait outside or I’ll come in with you if you want, okay?”

You knew he wouldn’t budge. That’s how you found yourself sitting across from Dr. Raynor, with Bucky at your side. You told her about your past, how you had been bounced around from loveless foster home to foster home. How depression had always been there in the back of your head, like a toxic friend.

“So you don’t have a job,” Dr. Raynor repeated your own words back to you. “What’s your plan?” 

“My plan?” You asked.

“Yes. Your plan for your life. Did you ever dream of doing something specific with your life? Ever feel like you had a calling? Even if it was just a dream that you had when you were younger.”

“Um,” you blinked at her, trying to come up with any sort of answer. “I don’t have a plan. I’ve never really had one. I um,” you pointed your gaze down at the floor. “I never really thought I’d make it this far.”

“Can you elaborate on that?” She asked. You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you as you spoke. You didn’t wanna answer the question, didn’t wanna say out loud the things that had been in your head for so long. It made it real.

“I didn’t think I'd ever be this old. I never thought I’d be an adult. I thought one day I’d finally work up the courage-” you paused as your voice broke. “I thought I’d finally be brave enough to end it. I never thought about the future cause I was so sure I wouldn’t have one.”

“Y/N…” Bucky said your name, heavy sadness weighing in his voice.

Back at the tower, you headed straight for you room, just wanting to be alone. But the closing motion of the door was stopped by a vibranium arm.

“I’m not leaving you alone. Not after what you just admitted.” 

You looked at him and he really took in how broken you looked. You had lost weight and your eyes were only filled with sadness. You looked pale and all around not well.

“Bucky, please…” 

He took a step closer and wrapped his arms around you and you broke. Tears once again fell from your eyes, soaking his blue henley shirt. You were so weak, you couldn’t do this anymore. Bucky held you as you cried before picking you up and laying you on the bed. You continued to cry and he hugged you close, letting you cry for as long as you needed to.

“I don’t wanna be here anymore, Bucky,” you sobbed.

“Shhh, I know, I know. But I want you here, okay? I- I need you here. I don’t wanna live this life without you. It will get better. It will.”

“No it won’t! For my entire fucking life I’ve been trying to tell myself that. And it never fucking does! It never gets better!” 

Your words broke his heart. You were one of the most important people in his life. So important that he had even let himself start to fantasize about what it would be like if you loved him and the beautiful future you could have together. “Y/N, please. You’re not alone anymore, okay? All of those other times, you didn’t have what you have now. Tony loves you so much. You’re his daughter. He refers to you as his daughter, you know. And you have me. I’m never gonna go anywhere, okay? You can push me away, you can fight me on this as much as you want, but I am not leaving. I’m never leaving.”

You continued to cry in his arms until your body was so weak. He felt you grow more weak and tired by the second, pulling you in closer. “It’s okay. Rest, angel. I’m not leaving you. Get some sleep and I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

You eventually fell asleep in his strong arms. “I love you. I love you so much. Please don’t leave,” he whispered to your sleeping body. He knew you couldn’t hear him, but he needed to tell you anyway. He would always be there for you. He wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

[rehfan]

Billy knight request….reader x billy in new relationship. Billy is super protective and jealous. They go to their first party together billy gets nervous /jealous because of guy hitting on reader. He causes a scene then panics on their way home thinking he’s ruined their relationship. Reader is not mad at him she is very soft with billy she takes him home and shows him exactly how much he means to her fluffy sweet smut please ***billy definitely has a breeding kink****😊

A/N: My first Billy Knight request and I couldn’t be happier. I love this character so much. Thanks to you @harringtonfan4 for the suggestion - it gripped me by the throat and did not let go. I basically spent 7 hours straight writing this all in one go. Any typos or plot holes are all mine, unintentional, and you can go pick on someone else. Here we go!

Pairing: Billy Knight X Fem!reader; Billy Knight X AFAB!reader

Jealous!Billy Knight; Insecure!Billy Knight

Tags: fluffy, emotional hurt/comfort, jealousy, mental health issues, insecure Billy, minor physical altercation, minor mention of suicide, fluffy smut, smutty smut, blowjob, PIV unprotected sex (PLEASE DO NOT DO THAT - WRAP IT), unintentional edging, creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk, small instance of choking but not really.

Warnings: minor mention of suicide; small instance of choking but not really; Under 18? Move on, please. I did not write this for you.

Please do not repost this anywhere else. This is my work and mine alone.

Word Count: 7200+

Knight in Shining Armor

You knew that you were the first major relationship Billy had ever attempted besides having schoolboy crushes on girls, sneaking kisses and holding hands and such, but nothing ever meant anything. He was in his mid-20s and should have had plenty of girlfriends before you, but due to a childhood trauma, he was debilitated and emotionally injured and needed time to heal. At least, that’s how he put it to you when you met and started dating him.

You bumped into him in the frozen foods section, dropping your frozen potato wedges when you turned and saw him there holding the freezer door open for you. He hadn’t meant to startle you, of course and looked so painfully shy and fearful about scaring you that it broke your heart a little. It had been months since your last relationship and while you weren’t looking for something new, you had a good feeling about him and told him that he could make up startling you by buying you a coffee from the station at the front of the store. He was happy to do it and that’s when it all began.

He was tender and caring, thoughtful and kind, and didn’t seem to have the same agenda that all your other blokes had had - mainly getting into your knickers. He seemed amazed to just have your friendship. And as far as Billy was concerned, that’s exactly how he felt. He didn’t see the sense in lying to you about anything, but he was terrified that you’d reject him. According to his logic, it was better to tell you up front about his institutionalization and mental problems; that way, you could push him away before he had a chance to fall head over heels in love with you.

But you didn’t push him away. Especially after he explained about the support system he had in place: his few friends who were also his flat mates and his psychiatrist, his medication, and his dedication to being a proper man in the world - one that could hold down a job and pay bills. He was on a good road. The only part of his life that was incomplete was having someone to share his life with.

His big brown eyes looked soulfully into yours when he confessed all this. It was your third date and things had been going well. He was in charge of choosing the location for this one and he chose a picnic at the dog park. He didn’t own a dog (one of his flat mates was allergic) but he liked them and he had made a few friends among the dog owners that came there. He smiled secretively at you as he produced a resealable plastic sandwich bag of dog treats and jiggled them.

“My secret way of making canine friends,” he said, looking almost embarrassed at his cleverness.

You couldn’t help but laugh. The whole day was perfect, even after Billy’s confession about his history. You explained that you had an uncle that was bipolar and had to be sent away for a while when you were a child. You knew something was wrong with him, but you were too small to understand what. But when he came out, he was his old self again and better. You have valued psychiatry and psychology ever since and you were entirely supportive of Billy and deeply grateful for his honesty.

In your second month of dating Billy you were both headed to a party thrown by old friends of yours. You had met each other in uni and had stayed in touch and you wanted to introduce Billy to them all as you were fiercely proud of him and his strides toward living his own life as his own man.

“We don’t have to stay for long, if you don’t want,” you explained as you walked up the path to the door, “If things get too much, you tell me the word and we’ll dash.”

“What word?” Billy asked, rubbing his nose, “And what will we say as an excuse? Won’t they be suspicious? Won’t they think me rude?”

“Hardly,” you said, placing a reassuring arm around his. You planted your chin in his shoulder and looked up at him. “I’ll do the explaining. And the word will be something you pick. What word would you like to whisper to me if you feel overwhelmed?”

Billy looked at his surroundings for a minute, his eyes darting about him. “Um, how about ‘cardinal’?”

You giggled. “‘Cardinal’?” Your eyes found what his had: in one of the front windows was a decorative hanging made of stained glass and containing a red bird of that name. “Oh I see. ‘Cardinal’ it is then. Excellent choice.” You kissed him on the cheek and rang the bell.

Billy was overwhelmed almost instantly. This wasn’t the small gathering that he was expecting - only three or four friends from your uni days - this was a gathering of well over twenty people. The conversation was a cacophony in the place and people seemed to be everywhere, sitting on furniture, standing in small groups, and even sitting on the floor around the low coffee table. Everyone had a drink and Billy was tempted to drown his panic in a G&T, but he knew he couldn’t with his meds. When the hostess greeted him with a slightly drunken kiss on either of his cheeks and offered to take his coat, he gave it over mechanically, his brain still reeling from the sensory overload.

You took his hand and whispered, “You okay, love? You look spooked.”

“So far so good,” he said unconvincingly, but he squeezed your hand and gave you a tight smile. He was going to try his best for you. You were the miracle of his life and he wasn’t about to lose you over his own feeble insecurities screaming their little heads off.

They screamed even louder when they saw all the men in the room greet you warmly. Most of them had other females standing by who were introduced as girlfriends and partners or wives and that was all fine as far as Billy was concerned, but the few who weren’t attached to anyone? Billy felt his hackles rise protectively as they snaked their hands around your waist in hugs of greeting.

The powerful jealously that reared its ugly head inside of him hit him sideways with its strength. He wanted to rip their arms away from you, smash their smiling faces with his fist, then run from the place with you hauled over his shoulder caveman-style. He knew he couldn’t, that he mustn’t. It wasn’t right. They were old friends and you were allowed to have old friends. And when you looked back at him with that beautiful smile and squeezed his hand and introduced him as your boyfriend even though you were only on your second month of dating, it caused sunshine to bloom in his heart and he smiled back at you and shook their hands and was so damned proud to be yours.

As the evening wore on, Billy was never far from you, but soon relaxed enough to seat himself across the room from you as you talked with your friends, occasionally turning to him to include him in the conversation. Your female friends seemed to like him, like his shy nature. Your male friends discussed the latest footy match with him and Billy found himself contributing to the conversation almost effortlessly. He couldn’t wait to tell Dr. Hammond, his psychiatrist, all about this little social adventure. Billy was sure he would be pleased.

It wasn’t until Billy had gone to refresh your drink that Toby walked up to you while you stood in the empty corridor that ran the length of the home and provided access between the main rooms on the ground floor of the house. You had just pointed him the way toward the kitchen at the rear of the building and turned to go back to the sitting room at the front of the house when Toby’s voice came from behind you.

“Thought he’d never leave,” he said.

You sighed and turned slowly back to him. “And there it is: that low voice you have that you always thought was seductive enough to charm birds from trees. I was wondering when you were going to make your move,” you said.

Toby was an old flame. One you had doused with enough water to flood whole valleys in the Yorkshire Dales years back. Still, Toby tried. It was pathetic really.

“And what makes you think it never has?” he said. He had had too much alcohol. It was obvious.

“You’re drunk, Tobes,” you said, giving his chest a gentle shove, “Please just leave me alone, okay? Billy-“

“Billy is a ponce and a welcome mat,” he said. “Wherever did you find him anyway? At the pound? Those big brown puppy dog eyes of his worm his way into your little heart?” Here he put a finger on your chest and pressed the flesh softly.

“He’s a good man,” you said. “Better than you ever learned to be.”

“Still angry about that? It was ages ago! And I’ve mended my ways: I only date one woman at a time now. No more cheating.” Here he crossed his heart. “Promise.”

“Once a cheater, always a cheater,” you retorted and turned your head, looking over his shoulder at where Billy had disappeared. You shouldn’t have asked him for a mixed drink. He was too insecure to bring you anything but perfection in a glass and he was taking ages. A thought occurred to you just as Toby’s head was angling down toward yours: “Besides, I thought you and Belinda were an item. Whatever happened to her?”

“Oh you’ll love the irony in this,” he said laughing, “She cheated on me.” You couldn’t help but gasp and laugh. He nodded. “Yep. With her yoga-slash-pilates instructor, no less.” You laughed again, even harder. He went on: “Apparently strength, stamina, and flexibility were what she was really looking for.”

You put a shameful hand over your mouth as you continued to laugh at what must have been a rude awakening for this lothario. “Well,” you managed, recovering a little, “I’d say ‘poor you’, but you sort of deserve it, you bastard.”

He responded by wrapping you up in a hug. “You mean you don’t feel the least bit sorry for me?”

“I don’t,” said Billy.

The hug broke apart and the two of you stood there staring at Billy who was staring daggers at Toby.

“I don’t feel sorry for you at all,” said Billy again. He passed you your drink without even looking at you. “And I’ll tell you another thing, mate,” the word dripped with anger, “You had better stay away from my girlfriend or I swear to Christ on high-“

“Billy!” you interjected.

“- I’ll… I’ll…”

Toby regained some of his smugness. “Or you’ll what? Scold me to death?” He laughed.

Billy shoved him hard against the corridor wall. It shook the picture frames.

“Just-“ Billy’s nervous tic of rubbing his nose with his wrist came back viciously in that moment. He was so agitated that it frightened you. “J-just keep away.”

You grabbed Billy by the arm and turned him toward you. “Cardinal,” you said. There must have been a look in your eyes, because Billy just nodded and looked instantly ashamed. He glanced back at Toby who had pulled himself away from the wall and was straightening his blazer jacket.

“Fine man you have there, pet,” he said to you. “Don’t suppose he’s had his distemper shots?”

Billy didn’t think, he just swung. His left fist connected with the side of Toby’s head and Toby stumbled back and fell into an unoccupied overstuffed chair in the hallway. “Fuck off, you cunt,” Billy growled.

Others had caught sight of this and were now populating the open doorways that led to the corridor you three were standing in. You looked around apologetically while tugging at Billy’s sleeve. Your eyes came across your hostess. “Gillian, I’m so sorry. I expect we’re just a bit knackered. We’ll call it a night, okay?”

All your friends smiled understandingly at you and wished you both a good night, turning back to their previous conversations. Billy put his coat and hat on silently near the front door when Gillian whispered a quiet word to you: “Hang on to that one, love. No man in this building has had the guts to smack the shit out of Toby the way he deserves. Good on him for doing what they couldn’t.” She winked at you and walked back to her guests.

You were quietly proud of Billy all over again as you made your way home. Gill’s home and yours were only about a mile apart and it seemed silly to hop a bus when the winter night in London was mild and you were with Billy, defender of your honor.

Billy, on the other hand, was eating himself up with guilt over his behavior. Dr. Hammond would definitely not think that this was a successful social interaction. Billy’s hand went to his nose again and he idly added up when it would be safe to take his meds again; he felt as if the chemicals that kept his brain untangled were wearing off.

He kept up a walking pace with you and tried to meet your eyes, but he was fearful of reaching out to take your hand and didn’t want to say anything to you lest you turn on him in anger and leave him on the spot, alone and lonely again in the middle of London. In the dark. In the cold. On his own. Again.

So he hugged himself and waited for you to say that he was never to see you again. But as the streets passed and you didn’t say anything, he wondered when it was going to happen. Or should he just throw himself in front of a night bus?

Or should he argue his side? After all, the man had his hands all over you! What was he expected to do when you introduced him as your boyfriend to everyone there? Was he just supposed to watch you laughing and joking with him and having him hug you and snuggle up to you when he’s supposed to be your one and only? Or is that what you wanted? Did you want Toby and not him? Was he the man you were waiting for? Did you bring him to the party to show off in front of Toby just to make him jealous? What did you want? What did he need to do? How could he fix this so you liked him again?

You turned away and toward the door of your building. You were home already. The mile walk had disappeared.

Billy shuffled his feet and didn’t meet your eyes as you held the door open. “Coming in?”

Billy shook his head and viciously wiped his nose against his wrist.

“Billy?” you said, your voice was so soft he looked up. His eyes were brimming with unfallen tears. “I’m not angry, you know,” you said.

He blinked at this and two fat tears streamed down his cheeks and into his beard. He didn’t bother to wipe them. “You’re not?” he managed.

You let the door close behind you as you made your way to him. “No, my love,” you said. You raised a hand to his face and wiped a tear away with your thumb. “If anything, I’m glad. It’s about time someone took a poke at Toby for all his machismo. I’m glad it was you.” You smiled at him.

Disbelief painted his face. “You are?”

You had to laugh. “Of course! He was a bastard to me when we dated years ago at uni. Cheated with this one and that. Always put me in second - and sometimes third - place. He deserved what he got.”

“And all your friends?”

“Gillian whispered to me just before we left that she was happy you did it,” you said. “I’m pretty sure that at least three other women at that party and two of the guys were happy too. You acted perfectly - if only slightly criminally.”

“So…,” started Billy, only beginning to wrap his head around the whole situation, “You’re happy? With me? With what I did?”

“Yes,” you said, “and as a matter of fact, I’d like to give you a small reward for defending my honor, my “Knight” in shining armor.”

Billy smiled at this. “Like what?”

“Come with me, good sir knight.”

You led him up the two flights of stairs to the flat you shared with two other girls. They were flight attendants and were hardly ever home. But they paid their rent on time and you all got along when they were home, so the situation was ideal for you all. This was the week that they weren’t around - one scoring the famous NY-LON flight and the other was off on a three week placement out of Sydney, Australia. You had the whole place to yourself for the next week.

Your room was at the back with two windows and a queen sized bed that almost didn’t make it in the lift when you first moved in. Of course, you paid more in rent for the biggest of the three bedrooms, but it was totally worth it.

You led Billy in and turned on the light at one of the two bedside tables. It cast a soft glow on you both as you took Billy’s coat from him followed by his jumper and shirt beneath.

You were on him with a passionate kiss, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. Billy’s head reeled with the sensation of you dipping your tongue in his mouth. He didn’t know where to put his hands, so let them rest on your hips gingerly as if you were made of spun glass. His cock shifted in his pants and he felt himself blush.

You broke the kiss with a wet smack and, a bit breathless, whispered, “If you want me to stop any of this at any point, we use the same word, okay? Do you remember it?”

“‘Cardinal’,” he said.

“Good boy,” you said, arching a salacious eyebrow at him. He smiled back at you, amazed that you were in his arms and that he was in your bedroom. His cock couldn’t believe his luck either and made another twitching lurch.

Your right hand glided down to his left hand and held it up, inspecting the knuckles. They were a bit red, but the skin wasn’t broken. “Does it hurt?” you asked. He shook his head wordlessly, eyes big as you kissed the ridge of each of his fingers and then the knuckles themselves. You looked up at him: “My hero.”

Hero? He was your hero? Really? Billy’s heart swelled in his chest and he knew he was smiling stupidly at you, but he couldn’t help it. You were kissing him again then and his hands fell respectfully back to your hips. Your hands, however, were ranging all over his exposed skin: shoulders, arms, the back of his neck and along his hairline, smoothing into his chest hair, until finally trailing fingertips downward to his belt. Alarm ran through Billy as he felt his cock twitch again and grow hard.

The chinking of the metal belt clasp joined the sound of you kissing him and you moaned with want. He leaned his pelvis away from you, his breath stuttering and his hands stopping your movements.

“What’s the word, Billy? Do you want to say the word? The one that stops everything?” you asked.

He stared into your face for a moment, frozen. Did he want this to stop? Was he brave enough to continue? He needed more information. “What are you… planning?” he asked. “What do you want me to do… to you?”

You smiled softly. “I’m planning on pleasuring you. I’m planning that you’re going to come. That you’re going to have a brilliant orgasm and sleep soundlessly in my bed until morning. And I’m planning to make you breakfast in bed.

“And,” you continued, “I’m wanting you to do anything you want to me. Just ask first, okay?”

Billy nodded.

“So are we stopping? Are you using your word?” you asked.

Billy shook his head.

“Then let’s start again, only slower. Does that sound all right?” Billy nodded. “What do you want me to do to you?”

You watched him as he swallowed hard and his ears got pink. Jesus God, he was adorable. You were used to men just manhandling their way into your bed, seeking out their own pleasure with your body, never worrying that you might not be totally enjoying yourself. This was new territory for both of you, it seemed.

“Can we just kiss for a bit?” he said. He seemed almost painfully ashamed to ask.

You smiled. How could you not? He was the gentlest man you had ever been with. Your hand went to his face and you kissed him softly, almost reverently, quietly thanking a God you almost didn’t believe in for sending you this amazing man. As the kiss broke, your faces were inches apart and you took the time to really look at each other.

He was fascinated by your face. Your eyes especially. The shape of your nose. The curve of your ear. Even your eyebrows were perfect and he smoothed one with the tip of his first finger, tracing it down and over to your ear and watching with breathless amazement as you pressed your face into the palm of his hand and closed your eyes. “Love me, Billy,” you whispered.

“Yes,” he whispered back and kissed you on his own this time, one hand to your face, the other wrapping around to the small of your back, both of you moaning into the sensation.

You tried to move closer to him, but he kept his pelvis away from you. Your hands found his ass and pulled him gently toward you, encouraging him to not be ashamed or embarrassed. When his hard cock came into contact with you, he whined and broke the kiss, gasping for breath.

“Was that not all right?” you asked, fearful that you had spooked him.

“That- that was- um,” his hand went to his nose again. You took it away from his face gently with both of your hands and kissed his wrist. Then you took his face in one of your hands and kissed his nose.

“I’m sorry if I went too far,” you said. “But Billy, I know you must be hard. I can see that you are.” You both looked down at his trousers where a very obvious tenting was taking place. You met his eyes again. “I’m not scared if you’re not scared.”

If Billy was honest, he wasn’t scared so much as he was terrified. He wanted to do well with you. He wanted to please you so badly his skin itched with it.

“Why don’t we get your first orgasm out of the way and… that might help?” you suggested. “You know, help with your nerves? What do you think?”

“Oh… okay,” he said, a bit confused.

You stripped off your top and bra and dropped to your knees on the soft shag area rug and made quick work of his button and flies. Billy hardly had any time to react when you placed your mouth along his clothed length and exhaled warm air against his member. The wanton groan that exited his mouth was everything you ever wanted to hear. “You just use your word if you need to, my sweet boy. And remember: I want to give you this. You deserve a blowjob for all you’ve done tonight.”

Your fingertips caressed his length as you spoke to him. He gasped when you lowered his pants and his cock sprang free. He was gorgeous. A light brown thatch of hair from his belly button to his shaft called for your fingertips to card through it. You kissed and sucked at the line between abdomen and thigh, teasing sighs and gasps from him. Praise fell from your lips as you scattered kisses along his lower belly and upper thighs: “Such a good man to me, Billy. So kind and gentle. Always so good. You want me to suck you off, don’t you, darling? You’ve wanted me for a long time now. Whole weeks! And now you have me. And this is all for you. For being my brave knight in shining armor.”

You lifted his cock out of the way with one hand and dipped your head to take his balls in your mouth, one and then the other, sucking softly as you did. You placed the surface of your lips against his scrotum and hummmmmmmed against his skin in the lowest tone you could manage. Billy groaned and threw his head back. His cock leaked with precum instantly, the tip swollen practically cherry red. You pulled his foreskin back even more and held your tongue out to catch the drip, locking eyes with Billy as you did so.

Helpless. That was the only word for the expression on Billy’s face in that moment as the precum hit your tongue and you licked up against it, trying to catch it all. Salty musk met your senses and you grunted. “Want to take you in my mouth, Billy. May I? Can I do that to you?” Billy nodded. “No no, love. Use words. Tell me you want this.”

“I want… you to… please. Please. I can’t say… exactly. I can’t. But please. Yes. Please.”

“Good boy,” you said, “That’s my good boy. Here we go. You let me know when you’re close, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

Slowly, you took him in your mouth, the hot heaviness of his erection against your tongue, the scent of him deep and thick. You had to use one hand against him because he was just too thick and long for you to deep throat until you found your stride. You hadn’t done this for a while, but it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. Some things remained the same like the sensitive frenulum under the head of his cock. You pulled off of him just long enough to press your lips there and hummmmmmm again, low and long and Billy’s head reeled at the sensation.

He watched as your mouth swallowed his length again and he could hardly believe he was standing there with his pants around his ankles and your mouth on his cock. Beautiful you, with your smile and laughing eyes. Lovely you, who was always tender toward him. Loyal you, who wasn’t angry with him for hitting your old friend - who wasn’t quite a friend after all.

Unbelievably, you were sucking his cock and enjoying it.

He placed a hand in your hair, not pushing precisely, but just holding you there and you raised your free hand to it, rubbing small encouraging circles into the back of his hand.

You pulled off him with a wet pop and stroked him. “Happy, baby?” you asked.

“God yes,” he replied, that same look of amazement on his face.

“You want more?” you asked, knowing full well what his answer was going to be. You just needed to hear him say it.

“Yes, p-please. More, love,” he said, desperation dripping from him.

You went back to work, your tongue circling his tip before swallowing him down once more with a moan. He tasted so good. Thick and long and right against your tongue, you could suck his cock into oblivion. His hand pressed against your head a bit more urgently, so you followed his lead, increasing your pace and taking just that bit much more into your mouth as you could.

Saliva coated your hand and dripped from your mouth onto your chest, but you didn't care. It was worth it all to hear Billy moaning above you. His breath stuttering in his chest was all you ever needed. He was surprisingly vocal too, his muttered words of praise finding your grateful ears.

“Fucking suck me so good, love. You are so goddamned beautiful. Don’t deserve you. So fucking good to me. Your mouth… God your mouth… I just… Ah!”

Here he stopped talking and the hand that was on the back of your head found your jaw and pulled you gently off of him. “Can’t let you… Can’t. I- I’m sorry.”

“You can’t let me what, Billy?” you said, a little hurt that he wouldn’t let you get him off. “I was all right.” You stroked his cock to keep him hard as you spoke, but Billy even put a stop to that by pushing your hand away.

“No, no,” he shook his head violently. “Can’t come in your mouth. Need to come in you… Just - in you.”

“Oh.”

“Please?” his eyes held such longing. He gripped his hard cock at the base and you could see he was edging himself down away from his own orgasm. “Please let me?”

You knew better. You really did. But you were on birth control and you knew he was clear because you both traded that information ages ago. And, more importantly, you wanted him. You wanted him right then and there, naked and gripping his own erection begging you to let him fuck you.

Lord preserve us, you were really going to do this.

“Come here,” you said. “And take off the rest of your clothes.” You did the same, stripping yourself of all layers until you stood naked before him. You held out your arms and he filled them instantly.

The kiss you shared tasted of both of you plus the traces of the taste of his cock still present in your mouth. Your hands found his ass and squeezed, his hard cock pressing into you causing him to groan.

“Sweet girl,” he whispered. “Want you so bad.”

“Come to bed then,” you said. You were so damn wet in that moment, it wasn’t funny. Just looking at the way he looked at you, all amazement and reverence, it was too much to take in. His eyes held the universe and all you could see in them was your own reflection. It left you breathless.

He came into your bed after you crawled in beneath the duvet first. His warm body buffeted yours and his kiss heated you up from within, the curl of desire dwelling low in your belly and building slowly with every lick of his tongue. You rolled together, him on top of you, your legs wrapping around his hips, his thick hardness between your legs, tip tickling your ass right near your entrance.

Billy shuddered with the sensation of being so close yet so far away. “C-can I? Please, sweet girl? Please, pretty? May I?” He reached down and positioned himself at your entrance.

“Oh,” you moaned. “Clit first please. Right here.” You guided his hand so that his cock was lying between your folds.

He rutted against you with a snap of his hips and you both cried out. Billy’s forehead was buried in the crook of your neck as he satisfied his need for contact along your wet valley, the veiny ridges of his shaft dancing along your clit and building you to your climax.

His head lifted as you came, cries pouring from your mouth, cries that he put there, emotions that he caused, all of that for him. He could barely believe it. He almost came from watching you.

Gently he brushed the hair from your forehead. “Are you all right?” he asked softly. He stilled when you did, but you could still tell that he was achingly hard. He would need his release soon. Fortunately, you still wanted more.

You kissed him fiercely, sucking on his lower lip before releasing him. “On your back, boy,” you commanded in a low growl. His brown eyes went wide and he obeyed immediately, taking you with him.

You sat up and dangled your breasts over his mouth. “Suck on them, you beautiful man. Sweet boy.” He took you in his mouth and suckled gently, eyes closed, lost in the moment. You braced one hand on the headboard, your other hand carded through his hair and caressed his face. He looked so content.

Billy still couldn’t believe what was happening. The whole situation seemed like a fever dream. The day he met you, he had gone home on cloud nine. That night he had dreamed of holding your hand and maybe even kissing you, but this? This was more than he ever dared hope. His hands smoothed up and down and up again over your back as he sucked on your nipple, eventually one wrapping around the opposite breast and the other snaking between your legs to rub your clit once more. He wasn’t entirely certain of the exact anatomy, but he knew when he found it based on your gasp. There he circled his fingertips and knuckles against the nubbin and watched you through the slits of his eyes as you craned your neck back and then forward again, your hips undulated against him again. You were pornography come to life. And he was doing this to you. Just him, no one else.

It was a miracle. You were a miracle.

He switched to the other breast now, nuzzling underneath it, experimenting with nipping, licking, and sucking at the tender skin, listening to your delighted giggle, eventually swallowing your nipple once more, flicking it with his tongue and eliciting the most delicious moans from you as a result. His hands had traded places too and the wonderful friction he was providing for you was intoxicating. He was running on pure instinct and you were too, your hips lost to a primal rhythm against his hand. You could feel things starting to build again and you urged Billy to keep on doing exactly what he was doing.

“Gonna come again, Billy,” you panted. “Just…Fuck! Keep going, baby. Almost….God! Shit!” You cried out again, your climax washing over you as you rode his hand. Come dripped from you and over his hand; you knew you were a mess down there, but you didn’t care. As you sat up against his cock, he hissed with the contact and subconsciously raised his hand to his mouth. There he tasted you for the first time and his dark eyes blew wide.

Billy sucked on his knuckle and closed his eyes, relishing your flavor. When he finally slowly opened his eyes, you pulled his fist away and kissed him, sealing the taste of yourself - above and below - in his mind forever.

Slowly, achingly, you lowered yourself against his cock, never breaking your kiss. His hand went down to guide himself along and inside you. You were so slick and wet, his cock tip slipped inside you with a smooth squeezing thump that was felt rather than heard. It felt so good you wanted to cry.

Relaxing against the pressure, you allowed your body to accommodate his girth slowly, a sweet burn giving way to a sense of fullness that left you wanting more, to run deeper inside of you. As you slowly fell against every inch of him, he watched in fascination as he disappeared inside of you, resisting the overwhelming urge to pump his hips up into you, bracing against the moment when you would allow it by planting his feet on the mattress, knees bent.

When you bottomed out, you both stilled, your breath filling the room. You felt so right, smiling down at Billy, his adoring eyes on you, his hands on your breasts, slowly kneading the tissue, warm and comforting and…right. This is how it should be and you could stand a lifetime more of this.

“Welcome home, love,” you cooed. “Feels so good, doesn’t it?”

“You’re a miracle,” he said. “My miracle.”

Your heart melted. Tears welled up in your eyes and your hands found his. As you bent to kiss him, he slipped partly out of you and you rocked back against him, trailing your mouth against his, capturing his lip or his tongue here and there as you ground against him, feeling the pressure of him inside of you. Changing the angle, you sat up again and rolled your hips, your whole body undulating, slipping against his length and just hitting that sweet spongy spot inside you that made you gasp and crave more and more and more…

Billy watched you move, his hands slipping to your hips, his legs lifting against you, pressing up into you in the rhythm you set. It was sweet, slow, and sensual, the way love making was supposed to be in movies and books. You were truly unbelievable and he was really here, really seeing, hearing, and touching you. He was the cause of all the sweat on your body, that fine sheen that caused your skin to glow in the low lamplight. He was the cause of your low moans, your two previous orgasms - not to mention the third one that was building in you now. Riding his cock, fulfilling his dreams.

His own climax was building now, not that it hadn’t been over and over again. The image of you on your knees in front of him was seared into his eyelids forever. The sensation of your hot mouth on the tip of his cock was a memory to savor for a lifetime. You coming all over his hands and the heady salty taste of you would linger on his tongue until the day he died. But this? The wanton image of you riding his cock, head knocked back, hands gripping his knees behind you, abandoned to the sensation coursing through you… this was magic. This he would want to re-create over and over again, trying to replicate it, improve on it, and ultimately replace this memory with others, multiplying and multiplying over and over until the end of time.

He imagined busting his nut inside you, spraying your walls down with his spunk, fucking you like he was trying to breed you - and that’s when he felt his balls tighten. Chasing the sensation, he confessed: “Want to cover you in my come. Want to fuck you into oblivion. Want to mate with you and fill you with my babies. Shit!”

Your eyes flew wide at this. “You want to fuck me like a stud stallion, my brilliant boy? Like I’m a brood mare? Take me from behind? You want to rail into me, huh?”

An absolutely feral look came across Billy’s face at this. “You’d let me?”

“I’d beg you to,” you smiled, slipping off of him and turning around. He was on his knees behind you in seconds, pushing himself back into you, one hand on your hip, the other on your shoulder.

He leaned in close when you moaned and arched against him. He whispered, “I’m going to fuck you right through this mattress, beautiful girl.”

You turned toward him and nipped at his lips, one hand passing behind his head into his hair. “Yes please, sir knight. Please take me and breed me and spend yourself inside me.” He turned his head so his ear was at your mouth. “Need it, Billy. Need you,” you whined. “Make me yours.”

Billy didn’t need more encouragement than that. He settled back and started slowly, carefully, but soon gave in to his baser desires urged on by your lascivious whining, keening, and moaning. He fucked you hard, slamming against your cervix and, after a small positioning change of angle, that delicious sweet spot inside you. When he saw you reach for your clit, he brushed your hand aside. If you were going to come again, it was going be because of him. Only him.

You were his. His to fuck and to breed and he was lost to the thought of it all. His balls tightened again, all the edging he had been doing had been driving him mad, but now he got to just ride you into it. Slamming into you over and over and over had you oversensitive in moments. His small tight circles over your clit had you seeing stars. But his words left you helpless.

“Mine? You’re really all mine? Mine to fuck? And kiss? And love? You want this? All of this? Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want me.”

“Want you, Billy. All of you. Fuck me, love. Fuck me straight through this mattress. Need you, Billy. My hero. My knight. Please.”

His free hand was on your throat, pulling you upward ever so slightly, your back arching. his hips snapping up inside you. His breath was in your ear, stuttering and whining as he came hard inside you. “Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.” Over and over he told you what you were to him, each word stamped into you with the thrust of his hips. Your orgasm followed shortly afterward, burning from the insides where his cock was smacking your sweet center and you felt yourself come all over it, thickly flowing inside you and dribbling down your thighs.

You cried out and sobbed, coming down hard into the soft duvet, feeling his hands smooth down your sides and over your back as he sat up and drew himself out of you. You could hear him panting as he pulled you up at your waist and flipped you back to the head of the bed, resting your head on one of the pillows. He lay beside and behind you, spooning you from behind, his arms under your head, the other around your waist, hand on your belly.

He was terrified again. Scared about what he had said to you in the passion of the moment. He wondered if you wanted him to leave. He waited.

You leaned back into him, smiling. “That was amazing, Billy.” Turning your head, you reached back for him and he brought his face to yours. You kissed him lightly. “You are amazing.” You took his lips and felt his tongue tentative against yours as he lost himself in the kiss. Your hand found the back of his head, encouraging him deeper, moaning when he took the hint. “Make love to me again in the morning?” you asked.

Billy was breathless again. “Y-you don’t want me to go?” he asked.

Huffing a laugh, you had to ask: “Now why would I want to kick you out of this bed?”

“Dunno… I just thought… that now that we finished…”

You turned your whole body to face him. “Pay attention to what I’m about to tell you and realize that it is the unvarnished truth, okay?” Billy nodded, eyes wide. “Billy Knight, I adore you. And that was the most amazing sex I’ve ever had in my life. I am not kicking you out. In fact, the only reason I would ever kick you out of bed would be to fuck you on the floor. Understand me?”

Billy’s smile grew slowly but soon bloomed into a full ear-to-ear grin. He giggled. “You really are mine? Even only after two month’s worth of dates?”

“Hey,” you retorted, “I know a good thing when I see it.” Lightly you kissed him on the nose. “Now get some sleep, pretty boy. I have breakfast to cook for you in the morning.”

[the-frankenmost]

Alright so, I don’t talk about my canon openly very much, but I think there’s at least two people who want to hear about here so I’m just gonna ramble.

I don’t remember a lot before Gloomsvile so we’re not getting much of a “backstory” here :/ sorry. I do remember that it was only Mom though. I was a total momma’s boy. Len was very obviously the favorite though. I don’t really want to get into that here. I had (and still have) ADHD and Autism. Can’t comment on Len too much because memory is still very fragmented, but he definitely was not neurotypical. I was a very sensitive little guy while Len was the more rough and tough boy. Mom would call me a cry baby a lot. Len and I were twins, we weren’t born conjoined. I don’t remember how we died which is probably a good thing. Len loved creepy crawlies, I did not. He’d play with worms and I’d just be there freaking out. Still really don’t like the squirmy type.

Came to Gloomsville in search of more and stayed because, Ruby, duh. R.I.P Actually hit it off In Gloomsville and the neighboring towns. I remember the first time we made it into the paper, Ruby threw a big party and Len and I ate too much and got sick lol.

One time Skullboy thought he was related to a long line of Rock Stars and tried to get us to let him join the band. I’m named Frank for a reason (jk). Shut that shit down quick. Dude sucks at music. I think Iris AND Misery had had crushes on us for a while but that was extremely short lived. I don’t think anyone in that house was straight

(-Poe & Skull Boy) but I was probably the last one to come out for reasons we’ll get to later.

This is where the memories get more frequent and also a bit more sensitive. Read ahead at your own risk please.

Len and I had a medical emergency one night and for some reason the only solution the doctors could think of was to separate us, we were so far gone when they had us sign a waiver so neither of us could comprehend what was happening. Woke up in my own hospital bed in my own hospital room. Good lord the fear I felt that afternoon. Apparently Len had been freaking out way worse because he’d woken up like two days before I did. Shit was terrifying. You’d think “oh well now you get to experience privacy!” Fuck that I want my brother. I don’t remember exactly what had been wrong but both of us needed several different transplants, I got a new stomach. With that came new stomach issues. Could no longer have a lot of favorite foods or I’d get really sick. Len got off easy, I’m happy for him. We both got new dicks because we’d shared one. God bless that decision holy shit.

It was shortly after the emergency separation is when my mental health started to decline and I had that big meltdown that Skull Boy found reason enough to break my nose. In all fairness he’d thought I’d shoved Ruby when really I’d just startled her pretty bad. Not much better in my opinion. She didn’t deserve that. The guilt is what drove me to go hide in the woods surrounding the house. I’d originally planned to cool off and then lock myself in the garage for a while but fate had other plans for me that night. Took a tumble all the way down that huge hill the house sat on. I tried to find my way back home, I really did I promise. But I’d been so exhausted and was so lost I’d ended up in the neighboring town in the complete opposite direction of the house. I was lost in those woods for so long I’d kinda lost it a bit. My brain convinced me that there was nothing for me back home and that they didn’t want me there anymore. Kinda exiled myself at that point. Some guy found me collapsed in the snow and took me to him place to fix me up so I wouldn’t die out there. Definitely would have if he hadn’t found me. He’s the one who gave me the train ticket and the deed to the farm in Pelican town.

The train ride took days to get to Zuzu city. I slept the whole time anyway so don’t remember much. Lewis met me at the station and escorted me to the bus to the town. Passed out on the bus and woke up in the hospital, again. Getting real sick of that. Harvey thought Lewis had brought him a corpse at first so when I’d woken up he freaked out. Comforting. People would come visit. They were so nice. Got released from the hospital and Lewis and Robin showed me to the Farm. I miss the farm to this very day. I’d give anything to go back. Got the place all cleaned up with Robin’s help. Hid in the old cottage, refusing to come out for a month or so. Finally decided to try planting the seeds Caroline had given me to start the garden. Was very cynical about it until the little baby seedlings popped up. Immediately was hooked. I’d sit on the steps leading to the patio and just talk to the little guys. Random chicken showed up on my property one day and that’s when I’d met Jas, Vincent and Charlie. Jas was fascinated while Vincent was dragging her away from the farm screaming and crying that I was going to eat them. Only came outside to water after that. I’d catch Jas snooping around the property. She reminded me of Ruby so I’d get sad. She’d leave little flowers from the fields surrounding the ranch just south of the farm. Those flowers kept me chugging during that period of time. Eventually decided I wanted to keep Chickens for company so I made my way to the ranch. That’s when I met Marnie and Shane. Marnie had Shane help me with building the coop and the run. Didn’t say much. Marnie took it upon herself to keep pressuring him to come help on the farm after a while. He’d never really say much to me. We all know where that ended up.

Shane and I would talk more and more with each visit. Jas would come help too. I got fairly dependent on their visits. As Shane and I would talk more we’d get closer. We officially started dating about six months after I’d first got there. I was happy for the first time in ages, and so was he.

Things carried on as they were for two years until the big Stardew County fair. I was cleaning up my little booth when I heard a familiar voice shouting my name. I don’t know how or why they’d decided to attend this fair of all the other fairs and festivals but they’d found me. Len quickly went from sobbing in relief that I was alive to throttling me. Oh ho ho he was pissed when he found out about Shane. Had to pry him off of him. Poor Shane was so rattled. We had a big sit down talk with everyone. Skull Boy couldn’t even look me in the eyes. I could tell he blamed himself for my disappearance, and that made me feel terrible. Ruby never gave up on looking for me.

Everything eventually went back to normal. They’d come visit fairly regularly. Len would just show up unannounced sometimes but I liked it. Shane didn’t. Shane and I eventually got married and this is where you’d think it was happily ever after. I wish that was the case. I really do. I don’t remember the exact amount of time between that and my eventual, untimely death. It wasn’t long enough though. I was so happy. I had my friends back. I had my brother back. I was married with an adopted daughter, though Jas continued to refer to me as “ Uncle Frank” I didn’t mind though. I’d told Shane I was going to the mines and he practically begged me not to go because I’d previously gotten hurt down there, but I’m a hard headed, stubborn idiot. He knew he couldn’t stop me so instead he came along. I don’t know what happened down there, as I’ve blocked it out but something terrible obviously. Shane carried me all the way to Harvey’s, but it was too late. There was nothing anyone could do.

And now I’m here. Anyway, it’s 2am so I’m going to sleep now. I’m certain there are typos but I can’t be bothered. Goodnight.

[jodilin65]

I guess I’m gonna squeeze in one last entry for the year (it's actually shortly before midnight). That is if I can write and edit it before the clock strikes midnight.

Listening to some scattered fireworks now, but not as much as I expected. Haven’t heard any since I last mentioned them, so it hasn’t been nearly as bad as July 4th was. It’s only 46° which is pretty damn cold for Florida, so that may be why.

Again, I’m not looking forward to the year ahead, knowing that I’m most likely in for all kinds of health problems and fatigue. As crazy and as superstitious as it may sound, I still worry something up there wants me tired and to impact my day-to-day life to the point where I’m just existing and not living, and therefore it’s going to block any attempt I make to try to fix it. I don’t expect any success with weight loss either. You have to have a normal thyroid for that. I don’t know if I’ll be in for a mix of the same old ongoing problems and new ones, but hopefully, nothing will be as bad as a decade ago.

Too tired to go on now, so this will have to wait till next year.

Later…

Still exhausted but I watched the ball go down, and instead of being excited for the year ahead, I burst into tears suddenly and unexpectedly. It only lasted for a couple of minutes but I haven’t cried like that in ages.

Later still…

Placed an order on Temu for Swiffer dusters, flower stencils, and hangers for the 18-in doll clothes. I’ve got all this closet space so it would be nice if I hung them up rather than stuffed them in drawers and bins because I want to keep everything in good shape in case I decide to sell anything.

We’ve been talking about selling the treadmill, Bowflex, and the vibration platform but he might want to keep the Bowflex and I think I want to keep the platform a little longer. I’ll offer the treadmill up in the park group but we’ve got to discuss what we want to ask for it.

Anyway, after showering and eating I got a burst of energy and did a little cleaning among other odds and ends. I decided to try not to worry too much about the future of my health because, like most of us, we have little to no control over what may come our way. Even though I don’t normally make New Year’s resolutions because I figure anything worth making a resolution to do would be a good thing at any time of year, I do have a few goals. Now that I have new insurance and new doctors, I want information. I want to know about alternative sleep apnea treatments, I want to know if there’s a way around my thyroid issues that would help get some weight off, and I want to make one last-ditch effort to fight for the N24 drug. As I told Tom, I don’t know that I can live the rest of my life being tired half of the time so if worse comes to worst, I’ll have a serious decision to make but that has to be MY choice to make. But I’m not going to give up until I’ve tried everything I can possibly do that’s within my power to help myself.

The stomach cramp and yeast infection are improving (I think).

Although I’m still wary of the year ahead, I’m hoping that 2023 is indeed the year I slayed the dragon! As in the beast called anxiety that tormented me to no end for the better part of a decade. The beast that nearly drove me to kill myself and that would have succeeded if it weren’t for Tom. I still hate the thought of deserting him but one can only take so much suffering, although the fatigue is certainly the lesser evil. I can’t stress it enough when I say that between the medication side effects and the transition from perimenopause to menopause, it really took the word “anxiety” to a whole new level and gave it a whole new meaning that I had no idea existed. I still don’t want to get my hopes up too high as far as thinking I kicked the anxiety for good. The killer anxiety that sent waves of adrenaline through my chest and fucked with my mind. It hasn’t been a whole year. But the fact that the days I was anxious last year don’t even amount to a month is incredible! I may have to worry I’m not going to have enough energy to get through the day when I get up but no longer do I have to be afraid to wake up and be tortured with what was easily the worst feeling in the world.

I am a little worried about Adonis, though. It was his birthday yesterday and I realized I hadn’t heard from him in ages. The last thing I see on his wall was posted in July. I know he wasn’t in the greatest headspace last time we talked so I hope he’s okay. I sent him a message and posted on his profile so hopefully I’ll get an answer soon. I don’t even know if he left the Netherlands to meet Joy in Vietnam or what’s going on in his life. I know he was upset about some things going on in his country and the world in general.

I get him there! I don’t know what would be worse…to be stuck with Biden again or for Trump to get reelected. Biden has been giving billions and billions of our dollars away to other countries and letting thousands and thousands of immigrants burden our system, but if Trump gets in as I think will be the case, we can count on the loss of freedoms intensifying and maybe even some that affect us.

Just random bits and pieces of dreams lately that don’t make much sense. I don’t remember my dreams as much as I used to but last night I overheard one of Termite Tammy’s bratty kids saying she had a mild heart attack. I’m not going to check her wall as I haven’t in quite a while because I just don’t care anymore. Not about her, not about her brood. They can live, die, be happy, be miserable, be successful, be failures, be healthy, be unhealthy… it’s all the same to me. I’ll never be able to forgive them or the people in Arizona but they’re not at the forefront of my life and mind anymore and they never will be again because I won’t be dumb enough to let them.

I also had a dream that I was supposed to ride my bike to some kind of art class while Tom was out (working?) but I didn’t go because it was too cold and started snowing.

Then there was another dream where we weren’t living in an adult community. Our house was on a large lot sort of behind a larger house in which someone recently moved into. They had a partially submerged basement and I peeked through the blinds to see a guy rummaging through a bunch of tools and other shit. I was worried I was going to be in for all kinds of noise.

In the last dream, I was hitting the road only it was in real life and I was jogging. I was jogging down a street filled with heavy traffic at a comfortable pace.

I miss the days when I was able to do that but I’m definitely not in that kind of shape anymore due to the fatigue holding me back. Even if I was in great shape, that’s not something I could do during the summers here. I’d have to jog in place since the house is too small to really run around much in.

[emptysighshasissues]

The Story Behind This Blog

I’m making this a pinned post as to not have to explain it every time, but hi, I’m Kayla, and I have a lot of mental health issues. Before, I would post these kinds of things to my main blog, but as to not drag everyone down with me, I decided to move certain posts over to here. Forewarning, this blog will be pretty rough on occasions as I have frequent ups and downs. 

At 14, I was diagnosed with depression. At 15, I was diagnosed with anxiety and insomnia. At 16, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. At 19, after spending four years in an abusive relationship, I was diagnosed with PTSD. 

I’ve always had a rough life. My mother left when I was 4, I was raised by my father who remarried when I was 6 to a woman who was not much better than the woman who gave birth to me. My grandmother helped my father raise my sister and I, and while I looked up to her as a mother figure, she passed away when I was 12. My younger sister solely looked up to me as her mother figure even though there is only a three year age difference between the two of us. 

In my teenage years, I struggled with self harm. I was also on a large amount of medications to help manage my bipolar disorder. Originally, they weren’t going to diagnose me with it at 16, but given that I have a family history, as well as severe symptoms, they went on ahead and put it in my records. I stayed on my strict routine of meds until about a year ago when I decided that I wanted to have a child. 

And for the past year, I’ve watched myself deteriorate in ways that I never thought I would. Last year I was diagnosed with severe food allergies to potatoes, lettuce, uncooked beef, and peppers. I developed a tic that causes me to shiver and shake and make vocal noises and my psychiatrist’s only explanation is I’ve been on SSRI’s for so long, starting so young, and at such high strengths that it’s affected how my brain functions. I relapsed after 4 years of not self harming. Most recently, there are periods of time where I get so overwhelmed or paranoid that I just start to get overstimulated and cry. I also deal with the public at my job and sometimes even when someone is speaking plain English to me, it sounds like gibberish in my head and I don’t understand them. Finally I have boughts of disassociation so bad that I don’t recognize who I am in the mirror, or think that this life is a reality because everything about it feels fake, staged, or just not true at all like I’m living in a dream. 

My options for my mental health support in my area are very limited. I love my psychiatrist, but he’s strict on me not being on meds while I’m trying to get pregnant; even then, I have to drive out of town to see him. Every psych in my city worked for a community services building or the mental hospital; the community services building doesn’t accept patients who haven’t been hospitalized at least twice; I’ve never been hospitalized even though I probably should have been on more than one occasion. 

So, I come here. I vent, I rant, and I deal with it because at this point, this is the only place I feel while I can be entirely open about everything going around me. 

Honestly, this blog won’t be a happy place, but it’ll be a place that makes me feel a hell of a lot better at the end of the day while I struggle to get through this part of my life. 

[kyberphilosopher]

Eunoia

The Mantis crew decides to take a well deserved break.  Word Count: 2422

Warning(s): straight fluff, short Requested: yep This can be read for a female, male, non binary, or any other reader.

Eunoia is the shortest English word containing all five main vowel graphemes. It comes from the Greek word εὔνοια, meaning "well mind" or "beautiful thinking”. It is also a rarely used medical term referring to a state of normal mental health. In rhetoric, eunoia is the goodwill a speaker cultivates between himself and his audience, a condition of receptivity. In book eight of Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle uses the term to refer to the kind and benevolent feelings of goodwill a spouse has which form the basis for the ethical foundation of human life.

* ✭ ˚ ･ﾟ ✧ *･ﾟ * ✭˚･ﾟ ✧* ･  *

Cal is actually not as observant as people think he is. You know because you’ve been leaning against his doorway, watching him, for about two minutes now and he hasn’t noticed a thing. 

Maybe if you were in his position you’d be the same. That seems about right. He’s hunched over his desk with the lamp on bright, tinkering with something that you can only assume is for BD-1. He’s probably lost in thought. Maybe he’s dreaming of better days. Or maybe he’s just trying to figure out which wires and bolts connect to which. There’s no way to be certain from your position. He’s the mechanic, you are not. 

So why have you been watching the redhead from his doorway for three minutes now? A simple answer. He is your friend, and you enjoy his company. Even when he’s not giving you attention, completely unaware to your presence in moments like this one, lost in his own world, it’s his warmth that really counts. Cal is such a relaxing bout of fresh air compared to everything else in the galaxy, in your life. It’s like being at a great party, but whether you enjoy it or not, stepping outside and tasting the air and the smell of something wonderful. Even if you had a day full of talking to people and had become burned out, talking to Cal would have been no problem at all. Maybe in a way that makes him your favorite person. 

Yeah, maybe. 

BD-1 jumps onto Cal’s desk. His head looks at the boys hands, cocking about as if observing. Then he meets your gaze, only to find a smile. One index finger raises to your lips, prompting the little droid to stay quiet about this, before you turn away and head towards the main part of the ship. 

“Where’s Cal?” Greez gruffs upon seeing you. He’s shaking spice onto a steaming brown plate, which puts a pep in your step. Greez’s cooking always makes life better. 

“In his room,” you answer. You turn from the doorway to the counter, where something hot does cause stringy, swirly puffs of air to waft upwards from a large metal container. With your back to Greez, you pull a plate for yourself and begin hulling it full of food. Some sort of rice or grain?  

“Hmph, that reminds me,” the Latero begins mid-chew. “Me and Cere was talking about taking a vacation.”

“Vacation?” you scrunch your eyebrows and put the lid back on the container. “Where to?”

“The beach maybe?”

You scoff as you turn around and lean on the counter. One hand holds the plate while the other uses your index finger to prod at the mush. It smells alluring. The individual pieces of it stick to your skin. They burn and sting, but it’s so small it doesn’t bring much of a reaction. “I don’t know a lot of beaches.”

“Well, ya know,” Greez shrugs. “Just a thought.”

* ✭ ˚ ･ﾟ ✧ *･ﾟ * ✭˚･ﾟ ✧* ･  *

It was more than just a thought. Six days later, the Mantis touches down on Scarif. But first there’s the issue of landing. 

“Watch that tree,” you point, leaning over Cal’s shoulder as he co-pilots beside Greez. A second later, the ship gives a great rock and the palm tree crunches beneath it. “You weren’t watching the tree.”

“Sorry,” Cal offers sheepishly. 

“What?” Greez says. He’s the one in main control of the ship. He’d never let Cal take over the whole thing. “What he do?”

“Ran over a tree,” you snort. 

“Cal!” Cere scolds, turning around in her chair. 

“I said I was sorry!” Cal defends. 

“I’m telling the wookies what you did,” you whisper.

“Don’t,” Cal whispers back, though it’s still desperate. 

The Mantis parks itself in a field of tropical emerald on the cuff of a beach. The sand is white, the waves cyan and royal blue and sloshing. There’s several beaches on the planet. All of which are very beautiful. Would be a true shame if anything were to ever happen to Scarif. It’s so different compared to so many other planets in the galaxy- not occupied by Imperial forces or scumbags. 

Greez waves everybody off. Cere exits first. Cal is ahead of you, but he steps to the side and rather gentlemanly insists, “You first.”

You hum and move past him. The Scarif air hits your face with a warm breeze. It smells of salt and water and some kind of flower. The horizon goes orange and pink and salmon with the setting sun. It is... serene. It nearly knocks you off your feet. It takes his voice to realize Cal is beside you at the bottom of the ramp. 

“Woah,” he offers simply, in as much awe as yourself. 

“Woah,” you repeat in agreement. It’s still for a second. “Come on. Let’s join them. Or else I’ll have to cast a Jedi mind trick on you.” Your fingers wiggle up and down by Cal’s face for dramatic effect. 

Cal rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he utters with a push on your elbow, urging you forward into the sand. 

Okay, so maybe you like Cal more than just a friend. But who can blame you? Things had been feeling different between you two lately. You’d always gotten along pretty smoothly. You made up for skills that Cal seemed to lack himself, and his abilities- human and nonhuman- never ceased to amaze you. He was a friend. And then, when you tended to the stab wound he’d gotten from Vader, there was a moment where you held each others eyes. After that, the joking became more constant. The little touches on the shoulders and elbows and forehead taps happened more often. And you started watching him from his doorway sometimes and... and at some point you just caught feelings. 

Cal Kestis seemed to feel the same, but who could really say? No use poking that bear right now. 

The sand is soft, even beneath your boots. Cere stands in front of the water, just breathing in the air. The light breeze makes her vest ripple. It’s tempting to just join her. 

“Gotta say,” you hear a familiar voice say from your left and below. “We picked a nice place.”

“Maybe we should stay a while,” you joke, though you secretly hope for it, to Greez. 

“Yeah,” Greez rolls his eyes. “Until this moron gets us into trouble again!”

Cal perks up. “What did I do?”

“Anybody who can lift things with their mind is gonna attract some attention, kid. You just brought it on us.”

“So true,” you jump on with a smirk to Cal. 

“Alright,” Cal turns away towards the beach. You position yourself so you’re closer to him, and Greez takes the opportunity to waddle away further ahead to waves.

“Sorry for bursting your bubble, Cal,” you continue with a smug grin. “Maybe in the next life, don’t be born with force powers? Just a suggestion.”

“You think you’re so funny,” Cal tells you, though he’s smiling too. His pale green eyes spare a glance at you, thick lashes dancing on his boyish face. 

Your knees bend until you collapse on your bottom in the sand. It’s so soft, it doesn’t even resist your weight. It makes way for you easily, like a blanket. “I do.”

Cal joins you in the sand quickly enough. You’re both face to face, the wind in your hair and the water at your side. It crashes every few seconds, but it’s peaceful. Some kind of bird flies overhead, and butterflies are in the forested area behind you. The light of the sunset illuminates Cal’s hair more than usual. The brightest points of his eyes are highlighted. 

“He loves you,” you offer. 

“You think so?”

“I am one hundred percent certain... Just don’t touch the ship.”

Cal raises his hands as if surrendering. “Understood. Hands off.”

You turn your head to the water. Greez and Cere are standing ahead, most likely having a conversation of their own. The tide carries so much of the stress your shoulders hold away from you. Everything with the holocron, the empire- it was ridiculous what living in hiding could do to a person. It’s hard to imagine how Cal did it for so long. How painful that must’ve been for him. How painful it is to imagine him in pain. 

“How’s your stomach?” you decide to ask at last. 

Cal tilts his head for a second. “Better.”

“Perfect?” you raise your knees to your chest and rest your arms on them. 

Just then, a little whirring noise pulls both of your attentions away. BD-1 bounds down the ramp of the ship, twirling around in observance as if excited. “Hey, BD,” Cal greets. “I know, buddy. I know.” The droid places itself in Cal’s lap, still looking around at the change in scenery. 

“We’ve never been able to do this before,” you tell him. “I mean, I wasn’t here for the whole adventure. But I was here after and before and... and just... we’ve never done this.”

Cal is quiet. “I haven’t either.”

You look at him. 

“Taken a break. I guess time on Bracca was the closest thing.”

You smile softly. “I’m sure it was really nice.”

Cal rolls his eyes along with his head, though the corner of his chapped pink lips turn upwards. “As nice as it could be with the Empire.”

“That’s pretty nice.”

Cal and you huff a humorous puff of air in unison. 

“What were you doing before the Mantis?” Cal suddenly asked. 

“Oh,” you roll your eyes and wave your hand. “Not important. Don’t even worry about it.”

“Come on!” Cal shifts. 

“I’m serious!” you defend. “It’s boring stuff. You wouldn’t want to hear about it. Not as interesting as the force.”

“Well anything related to you is interesting,” Cal says casually, one of his palms lifting in the air for effect as he shifts again. 

Well that makes your face feel hot. Anything related to you is interesting. How often do people get to hear that? And how casually it comes out of Cal’s mouth, the shrug of his shoulders that you tie so easily to him, that’s how you know it’s honest. Not only have you heard something intimate that not many people will in their whole lives, but it was also heartfelt. 

“Yeah,” you mutter, though it sounds distant and far away as you watch Cal’s eyes. He doesn’t seem to mind. Then you snap back to reality. “This is gonna be good.”

Cal watches you pop to life, standing up entirely and running towards the water. BD-1 perks up as well to watch you just in time to see your much bigger form nearly knock the Latero over. And, much to Cal’s surprise, the little droid jumps from his lap and bounds after you. The red head decides he’s next to follow. 

“BD-1,” he rasps, also nearly pushing Greez to the ground. “Don’t touch the water!”

But it’s too late. However, nothing happens. BD-1 stands in the shallow waves, unelectrocuted and unbroken. He doesn’t spark a bit, only cocking his head in wonder at his friend. 

“Think fast!” a voice calls. 

A splash of warm and salty water slaps against Cal’s face. He cringes, turning his shoulders away on impact with a little gasp that makes his throat burn. “Hey!”

Another splash. 

Cal turns to you. You’re standing with your hands on either side of yourself, open and matching your smug and proud face. Your boots are still on, which can’t be comfortable given that they’re now submerged in water. BD-1 is on the back of your shoulders- something Cal thought was only between him and the droid. Apparently not. 

“What’s wrong, Cal? Can’t handle the current?”

Cal stills himself. Then he bends down himself and flicks water upwards. 

“Hey! No!”

He does it once more. 

“No!”

So you too repeat your original actions and begin forcing salty liquid up into the air in Cal’s direction as well. BD-1 grips onto your collar for stability while you both go to town, careful to not open your mouths too wide and taste the saltiness. 

“Be careful you two!” Cere calls from the shore. Neither Cal nor yourself heed her words, continuing on in disrupting the tide. 

“They’re fine,” Greez assures with the wave of one of his many arms. 

“Are you sure about that?” Cere responds with a hand on her hip as she watches you tackle the Jedi to the sandy terrain below the shallow water. 

“Completely fine.”

You push both of Cal’s shoulders down jokingly, careful not to subdue his head under the water. He cranes his neck to keep it above the waves. Through his soft lashes, Cal can just see your smiling, evil intentioned face with BD-1 on your shoulder gazing at him. 

Honestly, it feels just how it did last week- the last time you had watched Cal in his room. Gazing at him, admiring him. Just now you get to touch him, relax with him, splash water at him, even. You wish you could capture this moment if not forever, then for a while, and Cal wishes the same. 

* ✭ ˚ ･ﾟ ✧ *･ﾟ * ✭˚･ﾟ ✧* ･  *

Sorry it’s short. Idk if it’s my best work certainly but I haven’t written for Cal or Star Wars in a while. But I didn’t kill the reader in this fic or have someone sick or in danger! So it might be my first ever straight fluff? I don’t know. But what a good character to do it with. I’m glad to give Cal a break. And i hope the requester enjoys. 

[milkyymoons]

Honey Tea | 01 Yandere!Jungkook

pairing: yandere!jungkook x reader (f)

genre: yandere, angst, mentions of mental health, future smut, manipulation, 

Parts: 01 | 02.

summary: You're delighted to find the perfect caregiver for your ill grandmother but are soon to find out his intentions are far from pure.

Your eyes were glued on the clock that hung on the brown tinted wall, nervously biting your lip. You really hadn’t liked the idea of having to even hire a caregiver for your grandmother to begin with but you weren’t left with much of a choice. Finding a job was hard to begin with, not only due to the fact that living in such a small town made the options limited but your lack of job experience didn’t make it any easier. Your anxiety disorder had only gotten worse over the years, interfering with your daily activities and made things such as simple trips to the grocery store a living nightmare.

However,  you couldn’t let your anxiety control your life any longer. You knew it was finally time to take some actual responsibility and do what was best for your grandmother. She had taken care of you and raised you all your life up until now, she was tired and  her heart condition wasn’t going to get any better. It was up to you to take care of her now, she was all you had left.

While your grandmother was decently well off and had insisted you didn’t need to get a job, you had refused. Medical expenses were not getting any cheaper and while the job you managed to land at the old bookstore down the street wasn’t much, it would surely help some bit. Besides, you were hoping it would help better your anxiety, being stuck inside the house all day surely wasn’t helping your intrusive thoughts.

Now the only issue was having to leave your grandmother home alone for so long, she had insisted she would be fine but you knew better. At her age, the amount of things that could go wrong would just race through your head nonstop.

The sudden knock on the door made you jump, you lifted  yourself off the soft leather coach and rushed down the small hallway of your home. You took a deep breath, not even bothering to check the peep hole in your rushed state and swung the door open, the chilly air instantly hit your face.

The guy in front of you looked exactly like his profile on the caregiver website, his tall frame towered over you and his large dark eyes quickly took you in. His dark hair falling below his ears and he gave you a friendly smile. He wasn’t much older than you according to his age on the website but his face held a childlike look to it, his handsome features were even more intimidating in person.

“Hello, you’re Y/n right?” He questioned, his voice smooth. The way his eyes scanned over your face almost made you want to hide.

“U-uh, yeah. You’re Jungkook right?” You asked, cringing at how awkward you sounded already. He nodded and you stepped aside, signaling him to come in.

“Sorry, my grandma is still sleeping, she should be waking up any minute.” You explained as you walked down hallway and he followed closely behind you. You guided him to the kitchen, offering him to take a seat at the table which he gladly accepted. You suddenly felt anxious all over again with his gaze on you.

“That’s okay, I’ll giver her the medications when she wakes up.” He smiled at you and his eyes darted around the kitchen, seeming to take everything in.

“Right, I left them on the counter for you and I texted you the details in case you forget. She takes her blood pressure and heart medication first thing every morning , her stomach is a bit sensitive so I’d prefer she ate something before she takes the-“ You rambled, pacing around the kitchen.

“Y/n” Jungkook cuts you off, his tone gentle. “Don’t worry, I know what to do. I’ll make sure to make her some breakfast.”  

You nodded your head in embarrassment but his words brought you comfort. You knew you were worrying over nothing , he had some of the best reviews on the website and obviously seemed to know how to care of elderly people way more than you ever would.

“Sorry, I’ve just never left her alone with anyone.” You admitted, sitting down on the empty the seat right across from him.

“I see, is she your only family?” He asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

“Yeah, my parents died in a car accident when I was little so my grandma practically raised me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He gave you a pitying look and reached over to take your hand in his. You were a bit taken aback by the sudden action but he didn’t look phased in the slightest.

“You seem like a caring girl, many young people like you wouldn’t think twice in sending off their grandparents to a retirement home.” He said, his eyes boring into yours. He seemed genuinely in awe.

“I could never, she’s all I have.” You didn’t even want to imagine a world without your grandmother , despite knowing the reality of her old age and health conditions. Not to mention, the idea of sending her off to one of those facilities just seemed cruel to you, you didn’t have the heart to even consider it.

Jungkook watched you, you were indeed more beautiful in person. The blurry profile picture in the website didn’t even come close to doing you justice. He could tell how much you cared about your grandmother, it was obvious even through the messages you had sent him when you first selected him for the job. He could tell you were an anxious person just by looking at you. The way you had seemed like a deer caught in headlights when you first opened the door, your smaller frame cowering behind it. It was obvious even in the way you sat now, your leg bouncing beneath the table and your eyes refusing to make direct eye contact with him ever since he had arrived.

He found it all endearing.

“I-I better get going! It’s my first day and I don’t want to be late.” You said, suddenly remembering what time it was, the last thing you needed was to make a horrible first impression the first day at your job.

“First day? No wonder you seemed so nervous.” Jungkook teased, his hand slipping from yours as you got up.

“Yeah, well more like first ever real job so it’s even worse.” You let out a small shaky laugh, walking over to grab your bag from the counter.

“It’s your first job? How exciting.” He beamed, eyes seeming to follow your every action.

“Well, it’s a bookstore so probably not that exciting.” You mumbled as you tugged at the ends of your dress anxiously. Jungkook lips quirked up at your scattered movements, not ignoring the way the dress hugged your curves.

“Please make sure to text me if you need anything. The fridge is full and my grandma usually likes oatmeal in the morning, feel free to help yourself when you get hungry too!” You said, pointing towards different areas in the kitchen.

“ The bathroom is down the hall too and oh! I completely forgot to give you a tour of the house!” You groaned , realizing your dumb mistake. You had not even properly told the guy how to direct himself throughout the house.

Jungkook chuckled , standing back up and he making his way past you.

“Relax, I’ll be fine. The  house isn’t that big, I can find my way around it.” He assured you, observing your grandmothers medication bottles that sat on the counter.

You nodded and starting making your way out the kitchen.

“Y/n.” Jungkook called and you halted, turning back to face him. He gave you a warm smile, eyes trailing over your exposed shoulders that the thin straps of your sundress failed to hide. “ It’s quite chilly outside, you should wear a jacket .”

“Oh, right. Thank you!” His comment only confirmed how fitting he seemed for the job of a caregiver, you found it cute. You quickly grabbed the cardigan laying on the couch on your way out and rushed outside.

—-

To your surprise, the first day at your new job had gone quite smoothly. It wasn’t nearly as nerve-wracking as you had thought but it mainly had to do with you not having to interact with anyone much. You had spent your day stacking and reorganizing books, you were glad your boss hadn’t put you as the cashier. The old man insisted for you to stay in the back, probably noticing how anxious you had seemed in the job interview and not wanting to risk you embarrassing yourself with customers. You were grateful for that in a way, if your job continued like this then you were sure you could do it.

“Grandma?” You called out as you stepped inside the house, your shoes padding against the wooden floors. You let your bag drop on the ground as you walked down the hallway. You heard faint laughter near you, seeming to come from the living room. You turned and saw your grandma seated on her rocking chair, happily chatting with Jungkook who was seated on the coach beside her.

“Y/n! You’re home, my dear. “ Your grandmother gushed when she saw you, a smile forming on her wrinkled face. You walked over to her, giving her a tight hug.

“You didn’t tell me such a handsome young man was going to be the one to wake me up this morning.” Your grandmother stated and your face heated up at her words.

“Grandma!”

Jungkook chuckled, his smile reminded you of a bunny in a way.

“I’m assuming things went well?” You asked, face still hot.

“Perfect, your grandmother is a joy to be around.” Jungkook confirmed, glancing at your grandmother. “ I think she’s the easiest person I’ve had to look after.”

You sighed in relief, overjoyed that there hadn’t been any issues and everything seemed perfectly fine.

“Jungkook made some delicious oatmeal, I didn’t know these caregivers were such good cooks. “ Your grandmother added and you giggled.

“I gave her all her medications and she should be good to go to bed soon.” Jungkook said, standing up .

“How was your first day at work, my dear?” Your grandmother asked and you felt Jungkook’s heavy gaze on you.

“Good , I think. I mean it was better than I expected.“

“You know you don’t have to force yourself too much.” Your grandmother insisted, worry lacing her tone but you shook your head.

“I promise I’m not.”

“Your grandmother said you are a bit of anxious person?” Jungkook mentioned, tilting his head in a questioning manner.

You glanced at your grandma, wondering how much exactly she had told Jungkook.

“I told him how much you struggle with your anxiety and socializing with people. “ She sighed, resting her hands on her lap. “ You know how much I worried about you getting a job. I want you to put your health first.”

“Grandma, I’m fine. This job is helping me.” You insisted, not being able to help the annoyance in your tone. You felt a bit awkward now that Jungkook knew about your mental health conditions. It seemed too invasive.

“Your grandma is just trying to look after you, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Jungkook’s tone was sincere as he stared down at you, noticing the change in mood you took.

He wondered how you would react to him knowing much more than just the surfaced level information your grandmother had provided for him. It wasn’t hard to get her to talk about you, it was all she ever did seem to talk about and Jungkook couldn’t be happier at that. It made it easier to get to know you despite him not being able to be near you all day. Your grandmother served as an immediate resource. Although, not much of what she had said was surprising, he had figured the type of person you were at first glance, her words only serving as confirmation.

—

As weeks passed , Jungkook became more and more involved in your home life and his presence became so familiar to you, almost as if he had always been part of you and your grandmother’s life. He was here everyday first thing in the morning until late in the afternoon, sometimes even staying for dinner. Even on the weekdays, he managed to stop by for a bit and check up on your grandmother. You couldn’t believe it at first, that you managed to find such a perfect caregiver.

“Y/n!” Jungkook called out from the kitchen as you adjusted the scarf around your neck.

“One sec!” You said, rushing out and making your way towards the kitchen, you were met by a plate of stacked pancakes, scrambled eggs and chopped up fruit on the table.

“Don’t forget to eat before you leave.“ Jungkook stated, fussing over you to take a seat. It had become a habit of his to serve you breakfast each day before you left to work, insisting that it was bad for your health to leave on an empty stomach.

“You really don’t have to do this, Jungkook. You already do so much for my grandma.” You smiled, hesitantly taking a seat and taking a bite out of the delicious pancakes. Your grandmother really wasn’t lying when she said he was an amazing cook.

“Of course I do, besides I have extra time before your grandmother wakes up. “ He pushed a glass of orange juice towards you that you happily accepted.

“You seem a bit sickly lately, are you getting enough sleep? “ Jungkook questioned as he took a seat beside you. You had been more tired than usual lately but you figured it was because of your job. Although it wasn’t that physically demanding, you were sure it was your body getting accustomed to not sitting at home all day for once.

“Probably just tired from work.” You replied as you took another sip of your orange juice. Jungkook eyed you, taking in how shaky your hands seemed as you tilted the glass over your lips.

He didn’t like you working. He didn’t like seeing you do any type of labor, no matter how small. You should be treated like a princess, with so much care and not having to lift a finger for anything. He didn’t like the fact that you were away for such long hours, not knowing what type of trouble you were in or what you were up to. Fortunately, that would come to an end soon.

“I’d prefer if you actually finished your food this time. “ He said, his tone a bit more firm this time. You almost giggled at his serious expression.

“You take this caregiving job really seriously.” You commented as took another bite of the food. “ I’m sure my grandmother feels spoiled.”

“Hm, I’m sure she does. I try my best to.” Jungkook hoped you were the one that felt spoiled. He took great pleasure in seeing you happy, making sure he had all your needs met. He had took time finding out what your favorite foods, shows, and hobbies were. Anything related to you, he had become obsessed with knowing.

“I need to pick up my grandma’s prescriptions today so I may be home a bit later.” You added in between chews.

“No need, I picked them up already before coming here.” Jungkook smirked, and you sighed.

“You really were born for this job.” You mumble.

—

Jungkook sat on his bed, his eyes glued to his phone screen. The tiny camera he had hidden inside your room was at a perfectly angle from your bed. Placed inside one of the eye sockets of your many stuffed animals, he had found your collection of them cute. He watched as you emerged from your bathroom, eyes following the tightly wrapped towel around your body. Your skin still damp from the shower as you reached over your dresser for the lotion bottle. He swallowed heavily as he watched your towel drop on the floor, exposing your bare body. His eyes hungrily took in every curve, from your breasts down to your core.

You were ethereal, no matter how much he had tried to handle his needs by fucking other women , he was never satisfied. They weren’t you, and they would never would be. He almost felt as if he was betraying every time he had went to bed with another women. He was disgusted with himself for even giving in, promising himself he would never seek the pleasure of another women. You were his only muse, the only person he wanted. You were going to be together forever.

He watched as you spread lotion over your legs, massaging them. The tightening in his pants only worsened and despite how much he tried to control himself, he let his hand tug his pants down and closed his eyes.

—

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her, she’s been sleeping a lot lately. “ You chewed on your bottom lip worriedly.

Your grandmother had been more lethargic than usual, you knew her old age made her sleep a lot most days but still, her sudden change in behavior was odd to you. Your grandmother was usually a chatty old lady and now she barely had the energy to hold a full conversation with you.

Jungkook listened intently, having his back turned to you as he prepared you some tea. He lifted the kettle and poured  the hot water over the tea bag, adding a bit of extra honey knowing you had a sweet tooth. He didn’t want you this anxious all night.

Especially not tonight.

“ You have to understand your grandmother is at a very delicate age now,” He began to explain. “ She’s tired and doesn’t have much energy for anything.”

You knew what he was implying but you didn’t want to accept it. You shook your head at just the mere thought.

“What if it’s because of me?” You wondered as he took a seat across from you and handed you over the mug. You thanked him and took a sip, the hot liquid soothing your throat.

“Bab-“ Jungkook stopped himself, not letting the nickname fall from his lips.

“You can’t blame yourself for these things. None of this is your fault.” He stated with a more serious tone, staring so intensely at you that you almost believed him.

“B-but what if it is? I mean, I don’t even spend that much time with her anymore. “ You reasoned. “Maybe she’s depressed.”

“You overthink too much,” He replied, watching as you took another sip of the tea. “ She seems happy all the time, you can’t expect her to be the same as a few years ago, it’s just the age.”

You sighed, nodding slowly at his words. You knew deep down he was right, your grandmother was just reaching a certain age that didn’t let her have much energy for much. However, that made you even more guilty having to go to work and just leaving her. Of course, you knew Jungkook took amazing care of her and she loved him, always gushing about how attentive he was. But that didn’t stop the guilt washing over you.

“I’m gonna go give her a good night kiss. “ You whispered, setting the mug down. Jungkook watched you until you disappeared from his view, rushing down the hallway.

You came into your grandmother’s room, turning on the lamp on her nightstand. She looked so peacefully asleep, you almost regretted coming inside in fear of waking her up. You made your way over to her bed, crouching down a bit to her level as you pulled back her covers a bit.

“Love you, grandma. Good night.” You whispered, pressing your lips to her cheek. Her skin was so ice cold that it made you flinch back.

You frowned, eyes scanning over body.

“Grandma?” You asked, shaking her shoulder a bit. No movement.

“Grandma?” You repeated, this time more panicked. You felt your heart drop as you continued to shake her more and no response came. She didn’t seem to be breathing.

“Jungkook!” You yelled as you stood up, fully taking the covers off her.

“Jungkook! Somethings wrong!” You yelled again, frantically running out of your grandmother’s room in search for the caregiver. You hurried down the long hallway, feeling your heart rapidly beat in your chest.

“Jungkook!” You found him sitting in the same spot you left him, he slowly turned his head towards you when he saw you enter the kitchen. “ Please call an ambulance! My grandma is not moving!”

“Y/n, calm down.” He said, slowly standing up from his seat. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at his calm and nonchalant behavior.

“What!? How am I supposed to calm down? She’s not breathing!” You screamed at him, running past him in search of your bag.

“Where’s my phone!?” You dumped all the stuff out of your bag on the table, frantically searching for your phone.

Jungkook watched you silently , slowly circling the table. He took a quick glance at the clock that hung on the wall.

“Why are you just standing there!” You whipped your head back at him, angry tears already forming in your eyes.

“Do something! Go find hel-“ The wave of dizziness that took over your body made you shut your mouth. You stumbled back a bit, feeling a pair of arms hold you up.

The floor seemed to be spinning beneath you. You scrunched up your face in confusion. What the hell was happening?

“Shh, it’s okay baby.” You heard Jungkook whisper , his hot breath on your ear. Your heart continued to beat rapidly in your chest as your vision became more disoriented.

“W-whats going on?” You mumbled, feeling a heaviness take over you. Your legs felt weak, almost giving out beneath you as the arms around your body tightened.

“Everything is okay, baby. “ Jungkook hushed, arms holding you down.

“Just sleep.”

The tea. Your body chilled in realization.

“M-my grandma.” You attempted to free yourself from his grip, pathetically throwing punches against his chest. He almost found your attempts humorous.

He looked down at you in pity.

“Your grandmother was just an another obstacle between us, she’s in a much better place now.” His words made you freeze, your mind not knowing how to process what he had just said. You shook your head rapidly.

“No, no.” You let out choked sob, this wasn’t happening . None of this was happening.

“What did you do to her?!” Angry tears stained your cheeks, this had to be a nightmare. This couldn’t be real. Jungkook could never do that, this had to be some sick joke.

“What did you! Let me go!” You demanded but the weakness in your body only seemed to get stronger, your own body was betraying you right now as Jungkook continued to carry you down the hallway.

“Baby, you need to calm down.” Jungkook repeated as you continued to fight against his grip, he knew you wouldn’t last much longer. “ You’re going to hurt yourself. “

“P-please, let me go.” You cried, your vision blurry now. Everything seemed to spin, slowly fading away into darkness, your body falling limply against his.

“That’s it, fall asleep.” Jungkook pressed his lips against the side of your forehead. His princess was finally his.

“Everything is going to be okay, baby.” He smiled down at you, brushing your hair out of your wet face. “We’re finally going to be together.”

[storiesforallfandoms]

childhood secrets ~ hannibal lecter;hannibal

word count: 1711

request?: yes!

shady80smusicsingercolor “Hey! Can i request something

Hannibal l x reader

The reader kept her childhood a secret from everyone,until she was watching news about a teen getting bullied,she remembers her childhood and just cries.Hannibal notices and goes run up to her,ask what's wrong.She explain what happen,that her childhood friends used make fun of her,or calling her weirdo.Hannibal comforts her

Hope is okay❤”

description: after hearing the story of a teenager’s tragic passing, unwanted memories are brought back to her

pairing: hannibal lecter x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts, mentions of bullying

masterlist

“Did you hear about the Thompson girl?” Zeller asked as we examined some DNA for a case.

“Who’s the Thompson girl, first and foremost?” I asked.

“She was friends with Abigail Hobbs when she was sent to that psychiatric facility,” Price explained. “They were room neighbors I think.”

“Oh! That Hannah girl! What happened to her?”

“Her parents found her dead in her room. Suicide.”

I was so shocked at the response that I dropped the tool in my hand. Both of them looked at me for a moment as I just looked down at my hands. I was trying to calm the growing PTSD rising in me.

“The poor thing,” I finally managed to say.

“Yeah,” Price said. “I think she was in the facility because of mental illness. Her parents put her in there after her first attempt.”

Zeller shook his head. “Poor thing. They shouldn’t have let her check out so soon. (Y/N), are you okay?”

I was still staring down at my hands. They were shaking and it was getting hard to breathe. I could barley register the fact that Zeller had asked me something. They were both looking at me, expectantly.

“What? Yes, I’m fine,” I responded. “I gotta get some fresh air.”

I threw my coat and gloves on a nearby table and quickly raced for the exit. I had to wait for the elevator to take me to the ground floor, but the wait was antagonizing. My chest and throat felt tight, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

When the elevator door opened, I was faced with Jack Crawford, Will Graham, and Hannibal Lecter.

“(Y/N),” Crawford said. “Are you okay?”

I couldn’t respond this time. I had to get out, I had to be away from there.

The breathe of fresh air in my lungs was just what I needed, but I was still feeling panicked. Flashbacks were running through my head, things I had repressed for all those years coming back all at once, hitting me like a freight train. I sat down on the sidewalk, trying to calm my breathing enough to go back inside.

“Miss. (Y/L/N)?”

I looked up to see Hannibal stood behind me.

“I’m fine, Dr. Lecter,” I told him. “You don’t have to check on me.”

“You’re very obviously not okay. You’re breathing is abnormal and you look as though you’ve been crying.”

I felt my cheek and was shocked to find that Hannibal was right, I had been crying. I hadn’t even realized it before.

“I’m fine,” I repeated, but the crack in my voice gave me away.

Hannibal sat next to me. I tried not to let him see my face, but I knew there was no turning back now. He had seen me in the elevator, he saw how unhappy I was at that moment. Any other person would just think I was overwhelmed from work, or maybe one of our discoveries had upset me, but Hannibal was a talented psychiatrist. He probably already knew what was wrong with me.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

I chuckled. “How often does that one work?”

“Enough times to keep me employed.”

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “Zeller and Price were telling me about a girl that used to be friends with Abigail, Hannah Thompson. She...she...”

“I know,” Hannibal finished for me, luckily. Just thinking about having to finish that sentence made my throat tight again. “I wasn’t aware you knew her so well.”

“I didn’t, but I know...the feeling. Like you’re trapped in your own mind and there’s only one way out of it.”

Hannibal was looking at me, waiting for me to continue but not pushing me to go any further than I felt comfortable with. I wouldn’t have to go any further with my explanation if I didn’t want to, I knew he wouldn’t force me. We could’ve dropped it right then and there.

But my mouth moved before my mind could comprehend what I was sating, “I was the weird girl in school. While other girls wanted to be princesses or astronauts, I wanted to be a forensic scientist. I always had a fascination with crime and forensics and such. At first, I was just an outcast with no friends, until a group of girls took me in and added me to their group in high school. They weren’t super popular girls, but they also weren’t my level of outcast or anything, so, understandably, I was excited.”

“I’d assume it wasn’t as ideal of a situation as you were led to believe.”

I shook my head, tears forming in my eyes again. “They only befriended me so I could be their verbal punching bag. It started mild at first, just some friendly jokes that I could throw back at them. Then they started calling me the weird girl, the freak who liked death and murder. They’d make fun of me for reading stuff about unsolved murders, or even just murder mystery novels. They told me I’d probably grow up to be one of the unfound murderers in those stories. They put me down at every chance they got, but they were the only friends I had so I just...I dealt with it. I even gave up the opportunity to shadow at a police department during my senior year because I was afraid of them making fun of me more.”

“What was the tipping point?” Hannibal asked. “Obviously they are no longer around. I assume either you got rid of them or...they left themselves.”

“A bit of both really,” I responded. “One day, their bullying just got too much for me. My parents never liked the group, so I felt like I couldn’t go to them because they’d just tell me ‘I told you so’ - not because that’s how my parents are but because that was my irrational fear - and the teachers and guidance councilors and principals at school were garbage. They did nothing unless they actually witnessed the bullying first hand, and even then it was always a slap on the wrist punishment. So, I thought...I thought I only had one way out.”

I was still half conscious when my parents found me. My mother’s screams were permanently etched in my head, her sobs breaking through the otherwise muffled sounds I was hearing. Even when I blacked out, all I could hear in my head was my mother.

“They sent me to the same hospital Abigail was in,” I continued, skipping over the nasty parts that I couldn’t bare to relive. “My parents said I needed actual, medical help, that they couldn’t ignore my mental health issues anymore. I was there for months. I met people just like me, people who understood what I was going through. I made friends with a lot of them, and they’re all still in my life right now. My high school friend group came to visit me at one point. They seemed genuine enough with their apologies, saying they didn’t realize how much I took their words to heart and how they didn’t know how dark of a place I was in mentally. I don’t know how true any of that was, but they put on a good act. When they finished their groveling, I told them to go fuck themselves and to never contact me again. They were...offended, to say the least. Apparently they spread rumors about me at school, but I finished my senior year at a different school so it didn’t really matter to me. Went off to do forensic science in college and...here I am.”

For a moment, a look of pride passed over Hannibal’s face, as if the end of my story made him feel proud for me. I guess it made me feel proud, too, but sometimes I kicked myself for sticking around with that toxic friend group for far too long.

“I’ve never told anyone that,” I admitted. “Not anyone who didn’t know me at the time, anyways. I tried to keep it repressed, but hearing about Hannah Thompson...it brought all those memories back for me. Maybe I’m not over it like I think I am.”

“Mental trauma when your brain is still developing is not something one can easily get over,” Hannibal said. “It takes years, and even then those painful memories could follow you to your grave.”

I winced at the thought of having to battle with those memories until the day I died. Part of me was still worried that they would be the reason I would eventually die.

“But it is important to know that your old friend group was wrong,” he continued. “There is nothing wrong with being interested in something that the masses aren’t interested in. I’d argue that being interested in murder and police work is much better than wanting to grow up and be a princess or an astronaut. Your job helps the police to find serial killers and to save innocent people from being their victims. There’s nothing weird about that, not in my eyes.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Dr. Lecter. I think I just needed to hear that when I was younger and...no one really said it to me before.”

“I’m saying it now,” he said. “If you ever feel overcome with those memories again, please do not hesitate to call me. A beautiful and brilliant mind such as yourself should not be worrying over what irrelevant people have to say about you.”

I felt myself blush, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the reassurance Hannibal was giving me, or if it was from the compliment.

“I want to sit out here for a little while longer,” I told him. “I still need some air, and to come down from what happened back there. You don’t have to wait for me.”

“I don’t have to, but I will,” he decided. “I want to make sure you’re okay before I join my collegues again.”

I smiled at him again. I definitely wasn’t about to fight him on staying there with me. Quite the opposite, actually. If there was anyone I wanted with me in that moment, it was Hannibal.

[devildomimagines]

Request: HC for MC Who Can’t Eat “Healthy” Foods and Survives on Comfort Foods

Hi Anon who requested this! I hope you don’t mind that I made a new post for this instead of replying to your ask directly. I didn’t want to disclose all of the details from your ask publicly since some of it seemed pretty personal.

Prompt: HC for MC who can't properly eat healthy things, and they survive mainly for comfort foods or snacks. Due to that, they have a vitamin deficiency, and they cannot fulfill it properly because their doctors think that if they gave them vitamin supplements, they'll never start eating properly.

TW: Mentions of eating disorder and complications related.

Belphegor

Kind of gets it, eating can be a chore when he’s too tired to function.

He reaches for foods of convenience to eat quickly and get back to sleep. Probably only gets his nutrients filled because Beel is looking out for him and leaving nutritious snacks nearby in their room.

Belphie might tease you for being picky before you’ve divulged your situation.

Your hurt reactions to his teasing make him second guess what he thought was playful ribbing. 

When you do tell him, he immediately apologizes since you’ve explained that you can’t do anything to change how your body reacts to certain foods.

He’d share what snacks he eats and you two try to find ones you both can eat and offers comfort when you’re not feeling good.

Beelzebub

He likes when everyone eats together and he definitely noticed when you didn’t touch much from the table.

Also given his sin, he’d probably have to be the first one you have to communicate how this has affected your eating habits.

Beel offers to get together a varied assortment of foods for you to try. Anything you don’t want he can eat but so you can try to find something from the Devildom that you might like.

Just the idea of that much food made you queasy and quickly shut the idea down, letting him know you have tried a lot of things already.

He asked for a list of foods that you do like so he knows to both keep them around but also not eat them himself so you have them when you do feel up to eating.

Using the list of foods, if you’re ok with it, he will try to find things that are similar to them for you to try just to help try to give you some kind of variety in your diet.

Asmodeus

He’s probably an advocate for vitamins once you tell him about your experiences with doctors refusing to offer them.

Not only does it make things more convenient but getting the proper nutrients is vital for the care of your body.

Asmo wouldn’t care what you were eating as long as you were eating something.

He’d worry about you getting sick or not eating at all and passing out so he’d defend you if anyone questioned why you were eating the same food that you ate earlier.

Asmo gets you vitamins from the human realm to help you out. May or may not have involved Solomon to smuggle them into the Devildom haha

He really just wants you healthy and happy to live a long life.

Satan

With his own research and connections to restaurant owners he knows his way around a kitchen.

As a problem solver, he would probably offer different tactics to help at first thinking it was similar to being a picky eater. With a sad smile you would agree to try with him but gave him a warning that you’ve tried a lot before even meeting him.

He quickly learned this was much deeper than he had assumed. 

He apologizes for making light of the situation and offers to help in any way he can, whether it’s looking for explanations in the medical field or trying to find resources for you that you didn’t have in the human realm.

He’s considerate of your needs of keeping the lights at a lower level to mitigate your light sensitivity and consults Asmo to help take care of your skin. Would not out you to Asmo if you wanted to keep it between the two of you.

Satan would come to your defense and cover for you if any of his brothers asked why you didn’t eat or if you didn’t join them for a meal.

Leviathan

He would first notice that part of his snack stash was missing. After Mammon’s denial of stealing from him, you felt guilty and came clean with a confession and explanation.

He nods along, he would be understanding of the situation and starts to stock extras for you.

Beel worries about you both getting the necessary vitamins and minerals and at Beel’s behest you look into supplements.

Levi’s pretty good at research when he puts his mind to it and has a list of top 5 options for humans and demons for you two to review with Beel to find what you’ll be able to stomach and will fill your daily needs.

Unfortunately you can’t stand to watch Levi gaming or recommended anime for long without getting a migraine from the flashing lights of the screen. 

He’d understand and enjoys just being in the same room together. Eventually he tires himself out and he’ll join in whatever has your attention at the time.

Mammon

He tries to play the part of the responsible older brother asking why you weren’t at dinner or commenting on only eating snacks.

When you initially blow him off by giving non answers he gets offended. He knows excuses when he hears them. Though usually it’s him giving the excuses to get out of trouble.

He’s basically got you cornered when you finally reveal why you don’t want to and can’t eat with the others.

Mammon completely shifts from accusatory to worrying about you. He asks a lot of questions to get familiar with what you do like to eat, things that you have tried, your experiences with doctors, family and friends.

By the end of his questions, he’d consider himself an expert on you. 

He’ll stop on his way home to get you some of the snacks you like and he’ll distract his brothers if they start catching on and you don’t want them to know. 

Lucifer

Out of all of them he may know about your health issues. Then again, if your doctors refuse to acknowledge it then it might not have been included in your dossier.

Once you’ve yielded the information, he would take it on himself to see to it that you’re getting the required daily nourishment in a “I know best” kind of fashion that’s very typical Lucifer.

As a good sport, you’d go along with his attempts but he pushes your boundaries of what you can handle and it causes you to break down.

He happens to pass your bathroom where he hears your retching and sobs.

Basically breaks down the door and seeing you in such a state breaks his heart, even more so since he quickly deduces he was the one that caused it. He’d crumple to the floor beside you, wrap you in his arms and swears to do better.

In his eyes, eating anything, whether it’s “healthy” or not, is better than this.

[shorkbrian]

I’ve noticed a shortage of yan! Shoto :0 Whilst Kiri is my absolute fave, Todoroki needs some love too! Could I request some Yan! Shoto being absolutely touch starved and obsessed with a sweet, loving, motherly and smol reader? (it can be nsfw if you so wish!) Thank you!! (Btw, I love reading your stories, it’s a blessing in my day, even just looking at your shitposts/memes. And if you ever want to talk, jus say so. I hope you have a good day!! 🥺💞) - Sugar Anon 🧚‍♀️

Sugar anon! That is such a cute identifier and I hope to see you in my asks again!! Hopefully this is along the lines of what you were thinking!!!

It’s a very good concept btw cause like mhm him getting completely overwhelmed and overstimulated during diddly times cause he’s never had anyone be intimate with him.

Like moaning and his cheeks are flushed and oh

(Y/N) is a new doctor  at Shouto’s agency in charge of patching him up between missions and basically being his doctor. Shouto likes her gentle hands and soft touches, lets himself get a bit more scraped up then he would normally.  He’s just so touch starved and she’s so motherly and its such an intimate setting and he’s never had feelings like this before and he doesn’t know what to do.

Has yandere tendencies but tries to squash them down or hide them, tries to be normal.

One day gets hit with an aphrodisiac quirk, stumbles into her office and she’s immediately worried, once she figures out what’s up she tries to get out, lock him in there until someone stronger than he can come escort him home but he grabs her before she can get to the door. 

He’s crying cause he’s so horny it hurts (he’s never been this aroused in his LIFE) and he wanted everything to be perfect and he wanted to woo her but now he’s forcing himself on her and he can’t stop his hips from moving and he’s confessing all the bad things he’s done while he’s known her and she’s absolutely horrified, traumatized.

Warnings - NSFW, noncon, very hard noncon. Aphrodisiacs (spelling?) and a low-key weird comment about Shouto’s mommy-issues at the end. Dude is so twisted and sad and touch starved.

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“Todoroki-san, I have had to patch you up six different times in two days.”

Shouto cocked his head, staring at you with his bi-colored eyes, studying your face as you tended to the wound on his shoulder. The lilt to your voice suggested you were teasing, making small talk to distract the man as you swiped a disinfectant pad over the cut. You knew what you would be expected to do when you applied for this job, knew that heros were often injured. 

He had overseen the hiring process himself, his last doctor had left the agency for a job in a different country. Shouto held no hard feelings for the doctor, knew that as a hero he often got himself into trouble, needed a lot of attention and care. Not everyone could be expected to spend so much time with him, attending to his health - even if he was paying them a more-than adequate salary.

Most of the candidates had bored him when they came in for their scheduled interviews. Too many of them were looking at this position as a way to launch them into a nice comfortable position in a prestigious hospital. They seemed… uninterested, or too interested, some of the candidates invading his space when they came for a handshake, babbling about how much of a fan they were.

  You weren’t like that. There was a professional distance when you shook his hand, smiling at him pleasantly as you introduced himself. Then you sat down, waited for him and his team to begin asking you questions. Shouto couldn’t keep his eyes from straying to your hands, letting himself wonder whether those hands would be the right ones for the job. You looked so delicate, at least to him, a pro-hero.

But he already liked you better than any of the other candidates.

So you were hired, on the condition that you would be on a trial period for the first two months, with halved pay. It was still far above minimum wage, but Shouto was weary of hiring seemingly-normal employees only for them to turn out to just be trying to get to know him, whatever their reasons. The trial period was for his own sanity.

Currently he was sitting in your office, perched on the edge of the exam table tucked into the corner. Today he had managed to escape his most recent fight with only a few mild scrapes and bruises, but as his doctor, you needed to make sure he was okay, clean his wounds and patch him up before letting him go home for the day. It wouldn’t do anybody any good if one of the top pro heros collapsed on the job because of a lack of medical care. 

Your office was stocked with everything a doctor of your caliber could possibly need. Your “office” was really a mock hospital room, in a medium sized room located at the back of the agency. Having you on site meant that Shouto never had to bother with trips to the hospital, being swarmed by fans when he wasn’t feeling good or having someone who didn’t understand the capabilities of his quirk try to treat him.

It also meant he could relax, know that he was being taken care of. With you being so new, Shouto still had his guard up, ready for any-and-everything. So far you had been nothing but gentle.

You had hardly talked to him, other than the expected “This might sting” or “Deep breath in”. You warned him before you touched him,  but otherwise were very quiet, working diligently and professionally.  Shouto enjoyed it honestly, being able to step away from the buzz and hubbub of his agency and into his doctor’s office, where it was quiet and calm and peaceful.

Being with his mother had felt like this. Felt safe and refreshing and like a secret haven tucked away from the rest of the world.  

Clicking you tongue, you gave the pro hero a thumbs up as you stepped back. “Alright, you’re good to go! Please be safe on your way home Todoroki-san.” Shouto nodded, a stiff smile passing his lips as he rose to his feet. You were a good doctor, always took the best care of him.

“You as well Y/N.”

——

The next visit to your office revealed that you had added a few personal touches. 

A cheesy poster on the wall, directly across from the exam table, a single plant on your desk, A bowl of mini lollipops on the shelf by the door.

Cute.

Today was a short visit, just a quick once-over to make sure there weren’t any cuts or wounds that he hadn’t felt, the normal questions any quirks used against him during the day.  Shouto found himself wishing the visit had been longer as you gave him the all-clear,  moving away from the exam table so he could stand up. Before he walked out the door, you stopped him, silently handed him a lollipop. He took it,  noticing how soft your hand felt against his as he withdrew.

Shouto didn’t like sweets, but he didn’t mind accepting a lollipop from you. He could just offer it to his secretary when he passed her desk, no biggie. It was easier to do that than hurt your feelings by refusing.

Well, he knew it probably wouldn’t hurt your feelings.  He just liked seeing the little twinkle in your eye when he accepted it. He assumed the lollipops were a gag, something usually given to small children for being brave at their checkups.

He wasn’t your only patient, much as he would’ve liked. His agency had several other up-and-coming heroes, and several sidekicks, and you tended to all of them. Shouto liked to think that you saved the majority of your tenderness for him.

One time he had come in while you were setting one of the sidekick’s shoulders. You had asked him to sit down in your office chair, to give you a minute so you could finish up with his coworker. Shouto had done exactly that, watching as your soft hands gripped the sidekick hard, fingers digging in. 

“One, two, three.” You gave a countdown, forcefully jerking the shoulder back in place on “three”. The sidekick groaned at the pain, head shaking as if to clear his head from the intense sensation. You went over to your lollipop bowl, ignoring Shouto as he sat in your chair, returning to the sidekick to give him the sugary treat.

The sidekick sucked on the lollipop while you bandaged his arm into a sling, immobilizing it so it could heal. When you were done, you sent him on his way with a soft smile, before turning to Shouto.

“Todoroki-san, thank you for waiting.  How are you feeling today?”

Todoroki moved to the exam table when you motioned for him, immediately stripping off one of the boots of his hero costume.

“Hello (Y/N), it’s good to see you. I’m feeling good, got nicked by a spike during a fight today. Luckily it hit my ankle, and it’s not very painful.”

“Mm, let’s have a look.”

You kneeled down,  giving him a small warning before pulling his foot towards you, examining the tiny cut gracing his ankle. Shouto paused, closing his eyes as he relaxed at your touch. He didn’t remember the last time he felt this at-ease with another human. He didn’t know what it was about you; maybe your gentle, soft demeanor? Perhaps it was your kind touch, how you never pressed too hard and always respecting his personal space.  

Even as your fingers prodded at the cut, feeling the bone underneath, Shouto felt relaxed, content. He liked being around you, being with you. Even if the two of you hardly conversed. Maybe he could change that?

“(Y/N), how have you been finding working here?”

You looked up at him, bright eyes warm and kind. Shouto felt his chest tighten. “Oh, it’s very nice Todoroki-san! I hope I’m doing a good job attending to everyone.” With a smile, you returned to his ankle, producing an alcohol wipe from seemingly nowhere.

Shouto nodded, hands gripping the edge of the exam table. “I certainly appreciate your service. You have very tender hands.”  Just like his mom.  When he was younger, before his scare… Shouto remembered the care his mother would give to a scraped knee or a bump on his head. The soft touch, the kindness, the gentle hands - Shouto didn’t want to insult you by comparing you to his mother, so he stayed silent.

With a start, the man realized you were beaming up at him, wrapping a bandage around his ankle. He smiled back, felt his cheeks flush a little. What was this?

“Thank you! I know how important my patient is to the world.”

Ah, yes, his job. 

His job that he should probably getting back to.

Reluctantly, Shouto accepted the usual lollipop from your hands, wishing you would linger so he could feel the brush of your skin against his own.

Was he developing feelings for you?

——

It was a startling idea. Shouto never thought himself the type to have /feelings/ for someone else. When he thought of his future, it never involved another person. He didn’t want a family, didn’t want the opportunity to make the same mistakes as his father.

But as he gave the idea more thought, Shouto realized that he was feeling… something towards you. It was different to what he felt for Izuku, for Bakugou and Kirishima. He didn’t crave their touch like he did yours. Had physical contact always had such an appeal?

His last doctor had touched him, it was necessary of course to patch up his various wounds from fights. But somehow it wasn’t the same as when you touched him. 

Shouto spent each exam studying you, your features, the way you moved, how you almost skipped over to the lollipop bowl to retrieve him one at the end of the exam.  He felt drawn to you, wanted to touch your hair, hold onto your hand when you handed him the lollipop. Would you touch him if he asked? A hug maybe?

In his penthouse, Shouto mulled over his feelings, his wants and needs and how you fit in. Would it be prudent for him to start a relationship at this point in his life? Would you even consider him as a partner? No, probably not. You were much too professional, wouldn’t even think of starting a relationship with your boss. 

Maybe he could fire you.

No, no, Shouto couldn’t do that, it would make you hate him. Plus, he wouldn’t be able to see you as often. And Shouto was quickly becoming of the opinion that he wouldn’t mind seeing you more often than he did now.

He wanted more from you. He didn’t know what he wanted, but… maybe he could learn. 

——

If you noticed how frequently Shouto seemed to be visiting you, compared to his usual once-daily check up, you didn’t say anything.

Tabloids were beginning to comment on how eager the pro hero seemed to engage in hand-to-hand with villains. His usual strategy involved using his quirk, only getting his hands dirty if absolutely necessary. But now? He was constantly looking to get hit, kicked, clawed, wounded.

He had to come see you after every over-dramatic scrap with a villain.  You didn’t seem to notice, nor mind seeing his face pop around the door 3-4 times a day, sheepishly asking if you could patch up a new cut, check out a new bruise, make sure his nose wasn’t broken.

Shouto could feel himself falling, further and further into the rigid embrace of love, or at least, his version of it. Did other people experience attraction this vividly? 

He had come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to you, not just your body but your mind, your personality, your very existence.  He wanted to stay in your office, lingering after every visit and awkwardly attempting small talk just so you would interact with him, just so he could be with you a little longer. 

In the privacy of his own apartment, Shouto found himself researching on his laptop. “How to get the girl” “Ways to let her know you like her” “What does love feel like”. He felt so juvenile,  but the man was genuinely at a loss for how to deal with his feelings for you. Telling you outright wouldn’t be appropriate. You would never enter a relationship with your boss, Shouto knew this, you were too good of an employee. Flirting was not his forte, and was completely out of the question. 

So he stuck to what he knew how to do - keep his mouth shut and watch. You never turned him away from your office, never showed irritation when he showed up, never gave any sign that you were becoming tired of his presence. Shouto took this as an invitation, a sign that maybe, just maybe, you had feelings for him too. He found himself bringing his lunch down to your office, asking if he could eat there, just to get away from everyone for a little bit. You always let him, nonchalantly scrolling through your phone as you ate during your lunch break. 

Shouto was a bit embarrassed of himself when he pulled your file from the employee records. If anyone asked why, he would just tell them that he was considering giving you a raise, but wasn’t sure. That’s a valid reason to bring out an employee’s file, right? He just wanted to know where you live, if it was far from the agency. The man couldn’t stomach the thought of you, gentle, little (Y/N)  having to walk home alone at night, or take the train with all the creeps that could be there. 

When he came upon your address, Shouto made a note to ask if you’d like him to drive you home. It was at least a thirty minute drive, he didn’t want to think about how you usually got home. What if something happened to his doctor? When he broached the subject, Shouto thought he did pretty well at acting nonchalant.

“The weather’s getting colder, isn’t it?”

You nodded, wrapping gauze around a nasty gash on his calf.

“I feel bad for anyone who has to walk during the evenings.” He stated.

“Aw, it’s not that bad in my opinion.” You took the bait “I walk home from the train station every night and the weather isn’t awful. It’ll probably get nasty as winter comes though.”

“You have to take the metro to get home? Where do you live.” As if he didn’t know. But you’d recoil if he offered just yet, probably be weirded out that he knew your address.

“Yeah, I live over in the Shikuyu district. It’s a really pretty walk in the fall though, all those trees turning different colors.”

Shouto wrung his hands, taking a deep breath. “Let me drive you home tonight, there’s been some criminal activity going down over there and it’s not one of my sectors. I need my doctor safe.”

You tried to protest, and Shouto let you, but ultimately pulled the boss card, insisting that he needed to take care of his employees, especially one that he bothered so much.

“You never bother me Todoroki-san.” You laughed, dropping a lollipop into Shouto’s lap.

Shouto kept his face from souring, missing the usual contact of your gentle, silky-soft hands as you handed the treat to him. But it was fine, he would get more time with you. In his car, just the two of you, outside of work.

Then he registered what you said, and his head snapped up, eyes wide and roving over you as you turned away, cleaning up the exam table and messy supplies. 

It was all the confirmation he needed.

——

After the first time Shouto drove you home, you refused to let him go out of his way to help you out. Still, he was your boss and he could insist that you at least call an uber, or a cab. He didn’t feel comfortable sending his little doctor off onto the train every night after work. Shouto even upped your pay so you could afford it easier, saying there was no reason to be unsafe.

It was hard for him to know if he was being too suffocating.  He didn’t want for you to regret your statement about him never bothering you.

So he had his agency install new security cameras. 

One was placed in your office, where there hadn’t been one before. You weren’t too pressed when Shouto asked you what you thought of the upgrades, said you could see the sense in making sure the building was safe, especially the doctor’s office, where the heroes would be at their most vulnerable. 

Shouto agreed - he was always at his most vulnerable when he was around you.

But now he could stop letting his body take a beating in order to see you. He could sit in his office, busy himself with paperwork and have the security feed from your office pulled up on his laptop. Half the time Shouto got distracted, abandoning the paperwork in order to watch you work, treating sidekicks and heroes-in-training and anyone else the agency had hired. 

He tried to ignore the bitter pang of jealousy that reared it’s head.

Shouto knew jealousy, knew anger and negative emotions very well. His childhood had been littered with nothing but bad memories and negative moments. The only time he felt at peace was when he was curled in his mom’s lap, the woman running slender fingers through his bi-colored hair. Sometimes, when he was still very small, she would have the time to read him a story before bedtime. 

She was such an amazing woman. 

Shouto saw her in you.

The way you tended to him so gently, delicately treating his wounds. How you carded through his hair, just like his mom used to, when you were checking for head wounds. The way your lovely hands pressed against his back when you felt to see if a rib was cracked, rubbing each rib slow and soft, pressing. It was just like how his mom would rub his back.

The man swore your touch was addictive. He wanted more and more and more and he didn’t have a clue as how to get it.  Shouto had to be satisfied with fleeting brushes when he moved before you were ready, accidentally jostling you against his body. Or telling you (lying) that his body was hurting, sore, it didn’t quite feel right. You would do your best to check for any injuries, asking where it hurt (usually his torso “hurt”) and then skimming your hands very carefully over the skin there.

Shouto imagined how nice it would be to fall asleep with your hands on him. He wasn’t stupid.  He was getting too attached, too invested, was practically stalking your at this point. He shouldn’t be doing this, lying to you, watching you. But he didn’t know what else to do.

Guilt was beginning to take root in his mind.

One day he knew he would have to tell you, confess his feelings and deal with the outcome. You would accept him, hopefully. Shouto felt afraid for what he would do if you didn’t.

——

Shouto felt hot, disoriented, thirsty. He was pretty sure he was in your office, had gotten hit with a villains quirk during a fight. Apparently it had knocked him out, as he didn’t remember even coming into the agency.

Muffled voices could be heard past the closed door, and Shouto winced at the noise, at the light, at the feelings of his clothes against his skin. Everything felt  too much.  He stumbled off the exam table, yup, your office, and moved towards the light switch, stripping off his shirt as he did so. 

The voices outside were still making noise, but with the light off Shouto felt a little better. His remaining clothes were still bothering him. His head felt fuzzy. His boots came off, followed by his pants. He wanted to take off his boxers, but his rational mind supplied how bad of an idea that would be. What if you came in?

At the thought of his little doctor, Shouto’s stomach jolted in arousal. Confused, the man peered down, surprised to find himself completely hard in his boxer briefs. He knew he considered you very attractive, but it usually took a fair bit of stimulus before he found himself aroused. 

Shouto gulped as he climbed back onto the exam table, immediately curling onto his side towards the wall. He was practically panting with the heat of the room, sweating and drooling. Wait, drooling?

The door opened.

“Todoroki-san, I have bad news.”

Your voice was so sweet, like warm honey. Shouto shivered when he heard it, his cock twitching between his legs. He wanted to turn to you, stand up, pull you close. But he… he shouldn’t.

“You got hit by an aphrodisiac quirk. It’s going to take a bit to leave your system, and will probably be uncomfortable until then. I’m going to leave some supplies in case you would like to use them, but I will be taking my leave after getting you settled. The rest of your team and I have decided it’s safer for you to remain in this room than attempt to move you back home. We will be locking the door so no one can come in.”

And you can’t get out.

You didn’t have to say it,. Shouto heard you shuffling around the room behind him, he was so hot, sweat was beading all over his body.

“(Y/N), Why am I so warm?” Shouto groaned out, trembling. It felt like he was sick but with… arousal.

Objects were set down on your desk, before Shouto heard you step towards him.

“The quirk is going to make your libido hyperactive for the next twelve hours or so. It’s very likely that you will be aroused and craving stimulation.”

You sounded so clinical, so robotic, none of the usual warmth in your tone when you talked to Shouto. He wanted to whine, cry that you weren’t treating him the way you usually did.  And when he needed your help too! His rational brain was telling him that you were trying to be professional, give your mostly-naked boss privacy. 

HIs rational brain told him to stay still, wait until you left the room to grab whatever you had left for him on the desk.  It was entirely possible that he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back from grabbing your hands if he turned. He wanted to feel your hands on him, running over his torso, rubbing his back, cupping his cheek. He wanted your touch, so, so bad. 

Shouto decided it was time for his rational brain to shut up.

When he turned over, sitting up, you looked like a deer caught in the headlights, already halfway to the door.

“(Y/N)” Shouto rasped, rising to his feet unsteadily. The arousal pooling in his gut was overwhelming - he couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so hard.  His penis was so rigid that it hurt, throbbing in his boxers.

You took a step back, eyes trained firmly on Shouto’s face, determined to not let them stray below the belt.  

Shouto didn’t know what was happening, couldn’t rationalize any of it. The man wasn’t even in control of himself, feeling as if some demon from hell had invaded his body, taken his dirty thoughts and insisted that he act upon them right now.

The pro hero didn’t even know when he had grabbed you, but then he was pressing you up against his body and it felt so good that the man whimpered. A low, needy sound, softer than the spluttering and shocked noises tumbling from your mouth as you pushed against your boss, trapped in his grip.

“Todoroki-san! Please let go! The quirk-!”

Shouto didn’t listen, didn’t want to. He started grinding his hips against yours, breathing hard through his nose at the pleasure roaring into his veins at the simple contact, his dick pressing into your stomach. 

It wasn’t enough though, he needed more.

Shouto dragged you to the exam table, manhandled you up against the flat surface and bent you over despite your struggling, the shouts of “No! Stop!”. Should he stop? Probably. But he wanted this. Had ever since he realized that he loved you, although it hadn’t been this intense before. With one quick movement, Shouto pulled off your scrubs, discarding your underwear in the same movement. He wasn’t concerned about foreplay - he needed, he needed all of you right now.

But the man couldn’t resist falling to his knees behind you, hands moving their iron grip from your palms to your thighs. His fingertip dug into your flesh, dimpling up your skin as he leaned forward, your pussy exposed oh so prettily for him.

Shouto didn’t know if you were screaming or crying or begging for more. He was too focused on the juicy flesh in front of him, leaning forward quickly to greedily slurp at the pink slit. He felt you jump, try to straighten your back but he let his hold on his quirk weaken, simultaneously heating and freezing each thigh held in his grasp. 

You quickly resumed the position he had put you in.

The pro hero couldn’t get enough, licking and sucking with fervent desperation at your folds, no rhythm or technique whatsoever. He couldn’t think, not with his face buried between your legs, your thighs shaking in his hold, your sweet little cries (“Todoroki-san /please/! Stop!”) filling the air. 

It could have been seconds, or minutes, Shouto had no concept of what was happening, only that you were the best fucking thing he had ever tasted in his life, and he needed everything you had to give him. He couldn’t stop himself from trying to burying his face closer, trying to spread your thighs further and further so he could reach deeper into your puffy pussy.

Your cum gushed onto his tongue, and the man slurped it up, reveling in the stick, wet sensation. 

He couldn’t ignore his dick any longer.

Letting go of your thighs, Shouto stood, pushing his boxer briefs down his legs as fast as he could, desperate to sheath himself inside your cunt. He could barely breathe, was so aroused he was light-headed with need.

With his boxers off, the man pressed close to you again, lifting one of your legs to brace it on the table, forcing you to go on tiptoe. When the head of his dick met your folds, Shouto felt his cock jump, the strange sensation making butterflies rise in his stomach. 

“Mmhm, (Y/N) I don’t know-I don’t know what’s happening.” Shouto confessed, one hand on your hip, the other guiding his thick cock into your pussy. “You just-oh, you look so good, always - always do. I need to feel - need to feel you so bad.”

He could feel your body trembling, and it briefly crossed his mind that you were probably crying. But his arousal slammed into him like a truck the moment he let his hips twitch forward, sliding his length into your wet pussy. “Oh god, oh-oh god, oh!”

Shouto came, crying into your neck, saliva dripping from his mouth and onto your heated flesh.

To his surprise, his dick was still hard, and the arousal was still pushing, urging, needy.

“(Y/N), I don’t - I’m so sorry.” Shouto stuttered, pulling back just to have his hips plunge forward again. You were so warm, so wet from your own orgasm and from his cum sliding inside you. It was heaven. 

Shouto had never touched, nor been touched this much in his entire  life. He didn’t know what to do, how to feel; it felt like his brain was on fire, and with each desperate snap of his hips, he was throwing on more and more gasoline. He had longer stamina this time, pounding you into the edge of the table for what felt like forever until his hips stuttered, his legs shaking as he orgasmed inside you.

When Shouto felt himself steady, he was horrified to find himself /still/ aroused. “I’m sorry (Y/N), This isn’t - I didn’t want to do it like this.” He was crying as he rutted against you, tears dripping hot onto your back. “I’ve been trying to be perfect, plan - plan dates, a relationship, anything, as long as it’s you.”

The man buried his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling raggedly. “It can only ever be you.”

His clarity was returning, each orgasm making him feel less and less feverish. At this point, his cock hurt, and he was too sensitive, but still, his hips wouldn’t stop. 

“I was going - going to ask if we could go out.” A lie, but it felt like the right thing to say. You were definitely crying underneath him, Shouto would be lower than trash if he didn’t try to comfort you. You didn’t need to know that the pro hero would rather have made you his home-doctor than ask you out. That way you’d be at his house, waiting for him, just like a pretty little wife, like a mother.

“I love you… think I always have.”

It felt good for Shouto to admit it out loud.

[let-me-luve-you]

I’m Proud of You

Tom Holland x Sister

Summary: The reader is in the military and encourages Tom to take the role of Cherry. Now that the movie is coming out, everyone expresses how proud they are.

Warnings: Not too descriptive but mentions of ptsd and addiction, angst, supportive friends and family, talks of the movie Cherry, talks of military

A/N: Hey guys, this is so late and I’m sorry. Just been going through it a little bit but I’m okay. Thank you to those that reached out. I hope you enjoy this.

MASTERLIST       BUY ME A COFFEE     REDBUBBLE

When Tom was pulled aside by the Russo Brothers when he was filming End Game and was given the plot line of the movie Cherry, Tom immediately thought of you. You were his baby sister that served in the military. Tom was hesitant to take the role of an army medic that has PTSD and struggles with addiction. This character would hit home in a way.

You had been home leading to Tom leaving for Atlanta to film the final Avengers movie, but you left shortly after he did to go back on deployment. Tom was never fully calm when he knew you weren’t home. He constantly worried.

When the Russo’s came to him, they knew he would have to consider everything from career to personal. They knew you served your country. What they didn’t know was that you were already suffering from PTSD. Tom knew, which is why it took him all of filming to give them an answer.

One morning when Tom was talking to you, he mentioned the role and how he didn’t know if he should take it. It discussed heavy issues. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to bring it justice. You encouraged him to take the role. You told him you knew he could do the role. That he was an amazing actor. You included that doing this movie could help start a conversation about mental health and addiction within soldiers and veterans.

Tom remembered the conversation like it was yesterday. Now the trailer is being released and he is starting the virtual press tour. You had just come home right before Christmas. Your Christmas present to your family was telling them you were retiring from the military. Tom was ecstatic at the news. He hated worrying about you when you were gone. He was constantly thinking that the next phone call he got was going to be his parents telling him you weren’t coming home.

A month later, you were currently staying with Tom until you found your own place. When Tom was sent the trailer to Cherry for him to post on his own social media the next day, he brought his computer to your room. He knocked on the door and opened it when he heard a quiet “come in.”

“Hey Y/N?” You looked up from your iPad when he spoke.

“Yeah?” You asked, confused.

“I have the trailer for Cherry. They just sent it over. Want to watch?” He asked hopefully. You could see the slight fear in his eyes, but you didn’t understand why.

“Sure.” You smiled at him and set your iPad on your night stand. Tom smiled back at you and sat down on the other side of the bed. He quickly made it full screen and hit play. He had already watched it so Tom watched you through the corner of his eye. He noticed that when it showed the war scenes, you tensed.

When the trailer was over, Tom slowly exited out and shut his computer screen. “What did you think? They are going to send over the movie this weekend. Figured me and you could make a movie night out of it with the whole family.”

“I liked it. You look like you did a good job so far. I can’t wait to watch it.” You smiled at him. Tom immediately knew you were putting on your fake smile.

“Everything okay?” He asked, concerned.

“Yeah. I just…” You sighed and looked away from Tom. “Just still adjusting to everything. You know that I’m going to therapy, right?”

Tom shook his head, “No, I just thought you were going to mum’s and dad’s.”

“No. I’ve been going to therapy. I’m at three days a week right now. The nightmares are just too much to handle. Then I hear sounds during the day and it just flashes me back to there.”

“I’m sorry y/n/n. You know you can talk to me. I want you to know you can talk to me. No matter what time. I talked with veterans, I don’t know what you went through, but I know it wasn’t good. After playing this character, I don’t want to see that happen to you. Did they prescribe medicine?” He asked.

You shook your head.

“Okay. If they feel you need to, please let me know. I really, really don’t want you to go through addiction. I don’t even want to risk it for you to even get close to addiction.” He said seriously. You knew he was. You didn’t want the medicine anyways.

“I can’t wait to see the movie.” You said with a smile. “But can I ask if we can start it early? I already know, I’ll probably need to pause it and take a minute when it gets to those scenes.” You said. You didn’t even need to specify which ones. Tom knew already that watching the military scenes were going to be hard for you.

“Yeah. We can. And if you want it to be just us, that’s perfectly okay. I can watch it with everyone else the next night.” He said giving you options.

You shook your head to turn down the new option, “that’s okay. I can watch it with them. Just let them know I will need to pause it.” Tom smiled at you and nodded before kissing your head and getting off your bed. Tom left to go show everyone else the trailer. 

After he posted the trailer to his Instagram a few days later, positive comments started flooding his Instagram and Twitter. You scrolled through the comments from Harry, Haz, the Russo Brothers, and more people Tom knew and worked with and like all of them. You were so happy to see them support Tom. He had the right people in his corner.Next you saw a post from Tuwaine. First you scrolled through the photos. They were of Tom as Cherry throughout the different times in the characters life.

It’s funny, cos when I see bae do a role like this, I’m reminded again and again of how talented he truly is. I don’t think the world can look at you the same way once this is out.

He added that the trailer link was in his bio and you smiled. Not many people would do that, but Tuwaine has been one of Tom’s day 1s. You loved Tuwaine like a brother. You couldn’t ask for a better best friend for your brother.

You knew Tuwaine’s words were 100% correct. People saw Tom as a kid. They saw him like he is this sweet, innocent teenager like Peter Parker. He didn’t hate that, but he also hated being seen as a kid. Don’t get him wrong, he loves Spider-Man and he would love to play that character for the rest of his life, but he’s 24. He wanted to be taken seriously and no one takes a kid seriously.

You remember getting the selfie Tom sent to your phone when he was filming. You didn’t get it until you returned home, but he loved to text your phone when things happened so you could stay up to date with him. The selfie Tom sent you was when he was in Morocco. He was in all of his military gear. The text under it was,

I put this suit on and I feel like I’m an imposter. I feel like I don’t deserve to wear this. I’m just an actor, you are the real hero in this world. But when I feel like this, I remember what you told me. “If anyone can play this role, it’s you Tom. You have a connection to the military. You see what it can do to the family and friends around the soldier. You know what it has done to me. If anyone can bring this character to the screen and help start a conversation about PTSD and addiction, it’s you. I don’t know another actor that would take it seriously and give it 110%.” I hope this movie does start that conversation. I hope people see this character and realize the severity of it. Thank you for pushing me to do this role. I love you. I can’t wait to see you again. Stay safe y/n/n. I love you.

You decided to post the picture he sent you plus a screenshot of the text. You wanted them to see Tom as Tom. You were so incredibly proud of him and you wanted the world to see that.

Tom, I honestly don’t know what words to say right now, you know I’m not good at them, but I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for going outside your comfort zone. You went into this movie to show people you can be more than the nerdy high school kid and to start a conversation. I read all the text you sent me when filming this. I know the hardships you went through. I cannot wait to watch Cherry with you to see all the hard work pay off. I already know you were absolutely amazing in it. I love you and I’m proud of you!

When Tom got the notification that he was tagged in a post by you, he smiled. He smiled even bigger seeing the photos you used and as he read the caption. He was the luckiest brother in the world to have a sister like you. He quickly comment thank you and love you with a kiss and heart emojis.

“Tom?” You asked as you walked into his room to see him lying on the bed.

“Yeah?” He questioned.

“I really am proud of you. Let’s go out for lunch. My treat.” You smiled. Tom got out of bed and walked to you.

“Thank you for pushing me to do this role. I’m really glad I did it.” He said and gave you a kiss on the head. “Now go get dressed, I’m paying.” He said with an arrogant tone and walked towards his bathroom. You left to get dressed while laughing. Knowing it was going to be a fight to see who actually paid for lunch.

[writeyouin]

Hi there, can I request a headcannon list for tfp ratchet? Something where Reader, who is usually very easy going and wears a smile on their face is one day very quiet, only for Ratchet to find out that their family is practically estranged from them when they found out that they're gay. ty for your work!

Transformers Prime / Reader Insert – Family

A/N – Hey, so this got pretty angsty and bittersweet. I just hope that all of you know that being gay is great. It can be so difficult to be proud when someone doesn’t accept you, but I promise that the world gets better, especially when you find other supportive people. Friends are the family we choose for ourselves, and I hope that message stays with all of us.

Warnings – Angst.

Rating – T

For once, Ratchet found himself able to work peacefully in the base. The other Autobots were out on various missions. Jack, Miko and Raf were in school. Agent Fowler was at his own official place of work, and you had gone straight to the archives room as soon as you had entered the base.

‘Yes,’ Ratchet thought, satisfied. ‘All is quiet.’

It took him a long time to turn his processor to you. While it wasn’t unusual for you to go about your own business, it was certainly out of character for you to pay so little heed to Ratchet.

Sure, you always let him work when he was busy, but you also always greeted him with a smile, pestering him until you got one in return.

Ratchet couldn’t remember a day when you hadn’t told him not to be such a sour-puss, or sang his name until he paid you heed. Out of the humans, you were his partner, helping him in many a scientific task, once he had taught you what to do.

You joked, you sang, you danced, and you laughed. So, what had changed today?

Yes, Ratchet had found that he was able to work better in the peace and quiet that had befallen the base, but was there such a thing as it being too quiet?

“Bah,” Ratchet grumbled. He was over-reacting.

You couldn’t always be the easy-going, happy-go-lucky person who radiated warmth and life throughout the base. There had to be a limit to your seemingly endless supply of energy. Reassured in his conclusions, Ratchet got back to work. You would come to see him when you were ready to, and probably with some data from the archives that he needed.

Hours later, when Ratchet was sure that he was close to a breakthrough in his research, he found that he had hit something of a mental block. On the rare occasions when that happened, you were always there to talk him through his problems, or listen to him rant until he figured out what he was missing. It seemed that you always had a way of sensing his troubles.

Ratchet waited to hear your voice, but he was met with only silence. There had been a time when he worked alone, needing no such reassurances from anyone, but that time was long gone. The simple fact of the matter was that he needed your seemingly endless supply of positivity to spur him on.

Muttering to himself in a way that only those with old souls do, Ratchet left his work console in search of you.

“(Y/N), do you have a minute?” He called, upon distractedly entering the archive room. “I need to bounce some ideas off you.”

You stared up at Ratchet with hollow eyes. Ratchet had seen every emotion possible in his fellow Cybertronians. He knew sadness, guilt, despair, anger, resentment, and longing. As a medic, it was his job to heal the mind as well as the body. He had sworn an oath to help those in need where he could, and clearly, you needed his help now.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” Ratchet said, getting straight to the point; he never wasted time beating around the bush where people’s health was concerned.

“Hm? It’s nothing,” You answered in a dull monotone that didn’t suit you.

“Don’t lie,” Ratchet reprimanded.

You looked to the ground sadly, making Ratchet feel somewhat guilty that he hadn’t spent more time adopting a soothing tone. Still, it was too late for pleasantries now, so instead he waited for you to speak.

When it became apparent that you weren’t going to answer him, Ratchet spoke again.

“You can tell me now, or you can tell me later. Either way, neither of us are leaving this room until you talk. Clearly something is bothering you, so you may as well get it over with now.”

You knew that Ratchet wouldn’t really hold you verbally hostage against your will. If you told him that you weren’t ready to talk about what was bothering you yet, he would leave you be. Still, you didn’t want him to worry over you, nor did you want him to treat you like you were made of glass, afraid to say or do anything that might upset you.

“I’m just having a hard time right now… With my family,” You admitted.

Ratchet considered your statement momentarily. Cybertronians rarely had problems with so called ‘family.’ While all Cybertronians had creators, it didn’t seem to hold the same weight as the title of parent. Besides that, the few Cybertronians that did have family by Earth definitions were usually estranged from them, or their relatives were dead. Ratchet had a nephew, Medix, out in the galaxy somewhere, but he had not seen the young bot for quite some time.

Humans, he had learned, had strong familial bonds where possible. Ratchet wasn’t sure that he had the cultural understanding to help with whatever was troubling you; however, perhaps just the simple act of listening would alleviate your troubles.

“Would you like to talk about it?” He asked.

You swallowed your fears, wondering exactly where you should start. Although you knew that Ratchet would not judge you for whatever you might say, your irrational mind reminded you of your previous rejection, injecting you with fear that it would happen again.

“I…” You began, closing your eyes against tears that threatened to spill. “My family don’t want anything to do with me.”

“Why?” Ratchet demanded, offended on your behalf. You were wonderful, positive, intelligent, and caring. What cause could they possibly have for abandoning you?

There was a time that Ratchet believed that Miko was estranged from her family, but it turned out that they simply wanted what was best for her, and they thought the answer to that lay in America. All the same, sometimes the girl would take the ground-bridge to Japan, so she could watch her parents through the windows of their familial home; it was the only time that she was ever sombre.

Ratchet instantly knew from your tone that this wasn’t the same.

“Don’t worry about this, Ratchet,” You told him, courage abandoning you when faced with telling him of your troubles.

One stern look from Ratchet told you that this issue wasn’t going to be dropped. You loved that he cared for you enough to ask about this, yet you also hated it. There was a time that you felt that you could tell your family anything, and it had cost you everything; you would be remiss to make the same mistake again.

However, pinned by Ratchet’s penetrating gaze, you felt obliged to continue with your story, explaining what had happened.

“Three years ago today, my family stopped talking to me… I just get sad around this time when I think of it.”

“(Y/N), please tell me what happened between you and your family.”

You wiped your eyes with the back of your arm, your voice cracking when you next spoke, “They don’t want me because I’m gay.”

Gay? Ratchet searched his memory banks for a brief conversation he’d had with Jack. Gay was the term humans used for attraction to the same gender. He remembered that humans had this primitive idea, usually based on perversions of religious texts, that attraction to the same gender was shameful, disgusting, or dangerous.

Anger flared inside Ratchet’s processor. Both as a medical professional, and your friend, he wanted nothing more than to give your family the telling off that they deserved. However, as good as that would make him feel, this wasn’t about him, nor would it help the situation.

“There is nothing wrong with being gay,” Ratchet said resolutely, showing support in his unwavering stubbornness. “And your family are foolish for thinking so. I hope one day they get their heads out of their afts long enough to see what a wonderful person you have grown to be, and when that day comes, they had better beg your forgiveness.”

Although those weren’t traditional words of comfort that Ratchet was offering you, you knew that he was doing his best.

“Thanks, Ratchet,” You murmured. “I hope so too.”

“Well…” He hummed, clearly unsure of where to go from here. “Would you like to help me with my research?”

You smiled sadly, “If it’s all the same to you, do you mind if I have a little alone time today?”

“Of course,” Ratchet nodded. He was about to leave when he thought of one more thing that had to be said. “Cybertronians know little of family matters. That being said, the other Autobots and I are honoured to have you as a part of ours.”

“Thank you, I needed that.”

Ratchet gave a sympathetic smile, leaving you in the archive room and vowing to check on you again before you left.

[my-emotional-self]

Toxic Love Chapter 4

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Finding out your soulmates were Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes was one thing.  But when someone from your past comes back to haunt you, you have to figure out if a relationship with two super soldiers is something you really want to pursue or if you’d rather go back to your comfortable single life.

Series Warnings:  18+, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, past mentions of rape, self-harm, attempted rape, domestic violence, stalking, death threats, possible Dark!Steve?, Steve will be an asshole a LOT in this series but I don’t know how dark it will get, explicit sexual content, mental health issues, kind of A/B/O dynamics but not really (no they are not actual wolves, more like the hierarchy), mentions of suicide, flashbacks of suicide

A/N: There will be no taglist for this story!  I apologize in advance!

The three of you gathered around the kitchen island and ate the pizza.  Well, more like Steve and Bucky inhaled a whole pizza each while you ate two slices.  The pizza was delicious, probably the best you’d ever had and your stomach was grateful for the yumminess.

“Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself Y/N?” Bucky asked as he licked the grease off his lips.

“What do you want to know?” you replied.  

“Let’s start with your family and where you grew up.”

You shrugged as you wiped your fingers with a napkin.  “There isn’t really much to say.  I grew up in a small town in the Midwest.  Both my parents died when I was a teenager.  I never knew my grandparents and I was an only child, same with my parents, so I don’t have any other family.  I moved here when I was 20,” you stated honestly.  Well, mostly at least.  Yes, it was true both of your parents died, but how they died was tragic.  They both committed suicide.  First your mother, then your father one year later.  As far back as you could research, mental health issues unfortunately ran in your family and that was including you.  But you weren’t ready to open up that old wound yet. You were on medication to help it and that was that.  Luckily the dosing you were on worked well and you could only hope you wouldn’t need to adjust your medications anytime soon.  

“We know how you feel doll. Obviously all of our family is gone too. But we can make a new family with the three of us,” Bucky stated as he wrapped his metal arm around your shoulders. You liked the sound of that.  The three of you becoming your own family. It sounded nice.  

You gave Bucky a wide smile, mirroring his.  “What have your past relationships looked like?” Steve announced from the other side of you.  

This was something you had been debating on bringing up.  If you weren’t going to tell them about your mental health issues just yet, you didn’t want to lie and be dishonest about John as well.  Taking a deep breath, you held it in for five seconds before releasing it.  “I’ve only been in one relationship before.  His name was John, John Smith.  He’s in prison right now.”

From the corner of your eye you could see Steve clench his fist; his knuckles cracking in the process.   “What happened?” he growled out.    

“He…he umm.  Well, he hit me,” you said, almost as quiet as a mouse but you knew both men had super hearing and they damn well heard you.  

Steve slammed his fist on the granite countertop making you flinch.  

“Steve!” Bucky barked at him in anger.  “You’re not making this situation any better right now.  Calm the fuck down and let her talk.”  Bucky soothed his arm up and down your back.  “Go ahead doll.   We’re listening.”

Nodding, you began to speak again.  “Things were great in the beginning.  He seemed like everything I could have ever asked for in a man.  I didn’t know if or when I would ever meet the two of you so I decided to live my life and date him.   The first six months were a whirlwind of romance.  He was the most charming man I had ever met.  But then things took a turn when I moved in with him. I was ready to have sex yet, but he was sick of waiting.  That first night I moved in, he…he raped me.”

This time you saw Bucky’s right hand clench on the table in front of you while Steve knocked his chair over as he stood up, pacing the kitchen.  “Go on doll,” Bucky urged, trying to keep the anger out of his voice as best he could for you.

“That was just the first time.  He umm, he did it again for weeks.  I wanted to leave, I really did.  But he was rich and he had security around the house.  I knew I couldn’t just up and leave.  Finally, when he demanded I quit my job, I stood up to him and told him no. That was the first time he hit me. That continued for months.  I was ready to give up on myself.”

“What happened next huh? How did he end up in prison?” Steve demanded as he leaned over the counter, staring at you with those piercing eyes.  

“I got lucky,” you replied. “We were out shopping one day.  He felt bad for the wrist he broke the night before so he took me shopping.  One of the sales ladies escorted me into a fitting room and I slipped her a note letting her know what was going on.  I stayed in the fitting room for as long as possible.  And then I heard them.  The police. The sales lady called the police for me and they took him away.  He’s been locked up ever since.”

Closing your eyes, you let the tears slip down your cheek.  “You were so brave,” Bucky cooed as you felt his lips on the top of your head.

“Look at me Y/N,” Steve demanded yet again and that deep feeling to please him was happening again. You snapped your head up and looked directly into his eyes.  “That will never happen in this relationship. Do you understand me?”  You simply nodded.  “Bucky and I would never hurt you like that.  Ever.  You have our word.”  As soon as he finished talking, he stormed out of the kitchen and down the hallway to where you only assumed was his room.  

“Just give him a minute to cool off sweetheart,” Bucky spoke in your ear.  “Stevie gets pent up sometimes and he has a lot on his plate. He may seem like it, but he’s not mad at you.  I promise.”

You collapsed into Bucky’s chest and softy sobbed.  It felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders and you were relieved to have told them about John.  “I’m so sorry you had to go through that doll.  That will never happen to you again.  We won’t let anything like that happen.”

It couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes later when Steve emerged from his room.  “How about we go down and show you the communal kitchen and living room.  Give you a little tour.  What do you say?”

A small smile broke across your face.  “I’d like that very much.”

As the elevators opened to the communal floor, you jaw dropped.  If you thought Steve and Bucky’s apartment was big, this was ten times the size. Not only were there ample more couches, the television was bigger and there was a large dining table big enough to sit at least twenty people.  

“Holy crap,” you exclaimed in awe.  

“Yeah, Tony likes to go big if you couldn’t already tell,” Steve joked.  

“You think?” you quipped back, earning a smirk from Steve.  

The entire space was void of anyone except the three of you as Steve pulled you further into the living room.  He explained that the group tries to do a movie night at least once a week.  “To make things as fair as possible, Tony pulls a name out of a hat to see who gets to pick the movie that night,” Bucky said.

“Yeah but it doesn’t really work.  There is still always complaining and bitching from everyone else.  Mainly Clint,” Steve chimed in.  

It made you giggle, genuinely giggle and it felt good.  That hadn’t happened in quite some time.  

Steve and Bucky guided you towards the hallway, explaining that these were the ‘hobby rooms’ of everyone and their soulmates.  Steve opened the door to the one at the end of the all on right left side.  

“This will be your room. You can make it anything you want. But I’m going to guess this will be your game room where you work.”

“That would be correct,” you answered as you turned on the light.  The room was very decent sized and you would have no problem fitting all of your gamer stuff in here.  Hell, there would be a lot of room left over and you were quickly trying to think what else you could fit in here.  

“C’mon.  Let’s go back to our floor and we can show you your room up there.”

On the elevator ride back to their apartment, Steve and Bucky explained who all lived in the tower and who their soulmates were.  Tony and Pepper were soulmates together, along with Bruce.  Bruce was best friends with Tony and more of a brother figure to Pepper. Then there was Natasha, Clint and Darcy Lewis and they were all in an intimate relationship together.  Lastly, there was Thor and Jane but they didn’t stay in the tower too much as they spent most of their time on Asgard.  

Steve stopped in front of your door.  It was across the hall from Bucky’s and right next door to Steve’s.  

“Go ahead and open it,” Steve said with a smile.  “Just place your hand over the screen.”

Taking a deep breath, you did as he said and placed your hand, palm down, on the digital screen where there would normally have been a doorknob.  With a soft click, the door opened for you and you walked into your new place.  It was nothing like what you were thinking. You were honestly just guessing it would be a bedroom, but no, this was an entire apartment.  

Straight ahead was a decent sized kitchen.   There was dark cherry wood cabinet with black granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.  To the left is what you would assume would be the living room, however it was completely bare of any furniture.  As you continued to move through the apartment you found that the bedroom was all the way in the back.  It was a very nice sized master bedroom with the biggest walk in closet and on suite bathroom you had ever seen.  

“What do you think?” Bucky asked as he came up behind you and placed his hands on your shoulders.  

“It’s big,” you replied with a chuckle.  

“I’m going to have Tony’s interior designer email you.  Give him examples and ideas of what you would like and she will make it happen.  Don’t worry about prices.  This is Tony’s gift to you.”

Your eyes grew wide at his statement.  “Are you sure?”

“Yes sweetheart,” Steve replied as he slipped his hand in yours.  “We want the best for you.  Whatever you want this new home of yours to look like, then so be it.  We will make it happen for you.”

~~~

That night as you lay in bed after spending time with Steve and Bucky, you couldn’t help but frown. Things had seemed to be going much better tonight than they did when you first met them two days ago.  Now, you had to pack up your apartment and move. You weren’t really nervous about that part, hell, you were looking forward to it.  But then it meant things were starting to get real.  When things start to get intimate with them, would you be able to let yourself go and do that?  Would things be vanilla in the bedroom? Would you be able to tell them that because the only sexual experiences you’ve ever had was being raped, that you could now only get yourself off on violent fantasies of being raped, or tied up, or choked?  Fuck, what was wrong with you?

[avintagekiss24]

SUNBEAMS & RHYTHMS || STEVE ROGERS; BUCKY BARNES

pairing: Steve Rogers x blind!black!reader x Bucky Barnes || word count: 5,414 || warnings: mentions of depression, mentions of anxiety, mentions of insomnia, mentions of suicidal/dark thoughts, mentions of surgery/side effects of surgery (seizures/medications), smut, sex, threesome (m/m/f), polyandry/polyamory || challenge: @jbbarnesnnoble​​ mental health awareness month writing challenge - “the warmth of the sun fell over you like a blanket in the middle of winter.”

author’s note: this was such a great challenge, but please heed the warnings! we’re dealing with some sensitive issues in this one. I hope you guys like, and I also hope that I’ve handled this correctly! this is my first time writing a disabled reader. let me know what you think please :) and thank you all so much for all of the love since I've been back from my little hiatus! major inspiration from this post. I’m also getting used to a new laptop, so if there’s any weirdness in this post that’s why, lmaooo. okay, I'm done talking, enjoy!

The room is shrouded in darkness - but not that you’d notice anyway. Your body is covered by the thick duvet thrown over the bed, your face buried in your hands. A splitting headache forces your eyes closed, but you’re used to them. The headaches. They started a few years ago, out of nowhere - you just thought it was stress, or, maybe not getting enough sleep at night. You didn’t pay them any attention at first.

They got worse. They got to the point where you couldn’t get out of bed. Your vision would get blurry. Steve suggested a doctor - you said no, it’s just a migraine. You’d be fine. He insisted after a few more months went by, and your headaches got worse, your vision worse.

You still remember it like it was yesterday. You sat there, stunned into silence. Your whole body numb. Steve grabbed your left hand, Bucky your right, as the room started to spin - the doctor's voice fading away as she spoke. Brain tumor. It was so large now that it was pressing on your optic nerves, making you slowly go blind. Within months, purples and greens and blues and pinks were all replaced by nothing. Not even black - it was just nothing.

The last clear thing you remember seeing were the tears in Steve’s eyes and Bucky’s metal arm thrown over your hip as he held you tight. You had to squint to make everything out, but Steve’s eyes were shiny - cloudy - as the emotion trickled down his cheeks. You wiped them away slowly with your thumb as you tried to etch his face in your mind so you’d never forget it. You wanted each line, each crinkle, each little freckle to be ingrained in you. You’d already spent hours staring at Bucky, doing the same.

You made them smile - soft ones, toothy ones, lopsided ones, just so you could remember them. Both men obliged, although Steve clearly couldn’t stuff his grief and anger down as well as Bucky could. Bucky was angry with him at first - telling him to stay strong for you. Surgery wasn’t going to be easy, mentally, emotionally, physically - they needed to stay strong for you. You told him not to be so hard on Steve. You were all dealing with the death - of the person you were, your relationship as it was - he was allowed to grieve.

You woke up from the surgery a few days later, tumor free, but almost completely blind.

Everything was just different from that point on. The medication after the surgery did a number on you. The steroids made you irrationally angry and agitated. Insomnia kicked in, you couldn’t sleep for days on end, so they prescribed you a sleeping aid. You couldn’t tell if it were day or night, so on top of the insomnia, your circadian rhythm was fucked - more medication. Your balance was off, you were confused more times than you weren’t, you had a seizure or two - bad ones.

That’s when the depression seeped in. You missed who you used to be. You were fun. You were wild - that’s how you ended up in a relationship with two men in the first place. You had a great laugh. You couldn’t hold your liquor for shit, and you had a great sense of style. You loved everything and everyone and now, you’re just a shell of that person. You end up laying in bed most of the day, days on end, as dark thoughts swarm around you, consuming the last spots of light you have left.

You’re a burden to them, Steve and Bucky. They’ve both had to leave the team, not wanting to be far from you in case something happened. Steve turned his shield over to Sam immediately upon hearing the news. Bucky stayed on for a while longer but wouldn’t leave the country, until even that was too much for him. He’s been home full time for a few weeks now.

The headaches now are from the new crippling anxiety and stress that you live with constantly. You don’t bother to put on anything but old t-shirts and sweats because, what’s the point? You can’t even remember what your favorite clothes look like. One afternoon, in a fit of rage, you pulled every article of clothing from the hanger and made Bucky tell you what color it was before you threw it away. You could only imagine him standing there, his hands on his hips, his head down, his voice low as he rattled them off - red, pink, yellow with white polka dots, navy blue and white stripes.

Between the irrational anger, the headaches, the insomnia, the feeling that your floundering - sinking just below the endless, dark water - you just want to give up. You just want to close your eyes and float away. Make it all end.

You hear the door slide across the carpet as it opens, and then heavy steps before a massive weight presses into the mattress. The duvet starts to shift but you grab it, stopping it from sliding off of your head and groan loudly.

“Bucky,” you whine, “Please don’t.”

He chuckles, “How d’you know it was me?”

His body wash. You used to laugh at the differences between the two of them - like day and night almost; but their juxtaposition is what made them, them. Bucky always went for earthy tones; rich - scents and colors alike. Naturally, his preferred body wash was heavier than Steve’s, distinctly masculine. Steve always liked a hint of sweet.

“Baby,” Bucky’s voice is soft and airy, “You gotta get up.” You don’t respond. You draw your knees into your chest as you feel him shift behind you, “Come on baby. We have a surprise for you.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

You can sense the smile on his face. He shifts again and suddenly you feel those metal digits slide up your spine. Slowly, slowly, slowly, they creep along your back and up to the back of your neck where he scratches at your hairline. You hate how short it is, your hair. You were natural before, took the utmost care of it. Steve helped you shave it off before surgery. Now, between the medication making it brittle and quite frankly, the lack of care you have, Steve helps you keep it short.

You let out a breath as Bucky’s large hand sweeps over your head, cupping it underneath the duvet before his digits find your ear to pull gently, playfully on the lobe, “Please? For me?”

You sigh. You let him pull the duvet away from your face. You start to blink quickly; jump slightly when you suddenly feel his lips on your cheek. You’re still not used to it yet, your senses aren’t - they’re getting stronger, you just have to trust them. You can hear your therapist's words like she’s sitting in the room with you. You relax though, when his cheek rubs against yours as he wraps your body up in a tight hug. You even smile a little as he kisses down your neck and along your shoulder as he rubs your hip.

You reach for him, finding his chin with your fingers. The short hair that grows along the bottom half of his face is prickly - sharp. You walk your fingers along his jawline and cup his cheek as he moans into the crook of your neck.

“Where’s Steve?” You ask softly.

“Packing up the car.”

You roll slightly onto your back, blinking at the nothingness as your fingers still move along Bucky’s face. You raise your second hand, sliding it along his left cheek, feeling him. You push your fingers over his lips, tracing them as you try and figure out what he’s feeling. Your hands move upward, over his nose, up to his eyes where you feel the crinkles on either side of them. He’s smiling; it’s a big one.

“Steve is really excited.” He says.

You picture an excited Steve. The light that fills his brilliant, blue eyes, the whiteness of his toothy grin. God, you miss his face, “Where are we going?” You ask after a moment.

There’s another kiss pressed to your cheek before he sits up, gently pulling your arms with him, “That’s the surprise.”

You let him pull you up to your feet. There’s footsteps again, coming down the hall, “Buck,” Steve says.

“She’s up.”

You turn your head in the direction of the door, dropping your chin to your shoulder, listening as the steps draw nearer. You close your eyes again and let another small smile spread on your lips when you feel soft fingers, Steve’s fingers, start to massage your shoulders. He kisses the back of your head and then your temple.

“Feelin’ better?” He whispers.

“Not really,” you answer honestly. You’ve never lied to them, there’s no use in starting now.

Silence drops over the room. You’re sure that they’re exchanging a quiet conversation, their eyes bouncing back and forth between each other, “Guys?”

“Still here,” Bucky answers, “Hands up, let’s get you dressed.”

You oblige, lifting your arms over your head as he pulls his old t-shirt away from your body, “I can dress myself.”

“Just let us help you.” Steve says gently, his hands slipping into the sides of your sweats to push them down your legs, “You know we’ve always liked pampering you.”

That they have. It’s been a long time since you’ve let them. Their hands feel familiar but yet different - you weren’t really paying attention to the feel of them before. Now that it’s all you have, the feel, you notice the difference between the two of them. Steve’s hands are a little softer than Bucky’s, but he hasn’t worked in over a year, that’s what you suppose anyway. Punching people and gripping various guns and knives are killer on the hands.

Once you’re stripped naked, Bucky places your arms back by your sides. You feel Bucky’s hands (his are calloused still) on yours within seconds, then, a slick material against your fingers.

You squint, “Is that a bathing suit?”

“It is. Your favorite one. Remember what it looks like?”

“The blue one?”

“With the polka dots.” He presses it into your palm, letting you feel it, “The strapless one, that sinches in the middle of your chest.”

You smile a little as you run your fingers over it. The stomach is cut out, the waist high. You liked it because it made your ass and your boobs look incredible, “I love this one.”

He kneels in front of you, grabbing your hand and placing it on his shoulder as Steve places his hands on your hips - steadying you, in more ways than one. Bucky lifts your left leg by your ankle and helps you step into your bathing suit, then moves to the right foot, sliding the soft material up your legs. Once his hands reach your waist, Steve takes over, grabbing the suit and pulling it up the rest of the way, up over your chest. He kisses your neck as you adjust the top over your breasts.

“Thank you.” You offer gently.

Steve pushes your hands above your head again and slips something soft down your arms and over your head. Bucky grabs it and pulls it down your body, adjusting it slightly as you place your hands on your chest - feeling it. It’s a cover up, the white one you think; the one you got on your vacation in Maui. It has a stain on it. Steve knocked over the bottle of red wine the three of you were enjoying as the two of you danced on the patio of your ocean front room, Bucky watching you with a small, happy smile on his face.

“I like this one,” you say more to yourself than to them, “It makes my legs look long.”

“Your legs are long.” Steve chuckles, “Come on, shoes now.”

Once you're fully dressed, Steve takes your hand, starting to guide you towards the door. You slip out of his grasp, taking a breath, “I can do it.”

It’s thirty seven steps from here to the kitchen. That’s when you make a right and take fifteen more steps to make it to the garage door. From there, it’s five steps to the car, unless it’s backed out into the driveway - then it's between twenty two and twenty seven steps, depending on just where it’s parked. You’re getting the hang of things, no matter how much you hate it.

You feel them hovering behind you as you walk but they both respect your boundaries, letting you navigate the house without intervention. You slide your hands along the side of the car to the door handle and pull, the old door creaking just a little. Bucky isn’t much of a car guy, but Steve? This 1967 Chevy Impala was the only thing he and Tony could talk about without fighting. Steve gushed over it every time the three of you had dinner with Tony and Pepper. Then, one day, it was parked in front of the house with a simple note from Tony shoved underneath the windshield wipers - Capsicle, much like your face, I can’t stand to look at this any longer. Enjoy.

You slide into the seat and within seconds feel their thick bodies enveloping you, squeezing you between the two of them. The seat rumbles against your back as the car comes to life, the engine and mufflers loud as… you lift your hand to the shoulder on your left and run it the length of his arm, down to his wrist, gripping slightly as you go. It’s Steve, his arms are just a tad longer than Bucky’s you’re coming to find; more vascular.

You squint as the car backs down the driveway and the sun hits your face. You lift your hand, blocking the rays as you start to fumble around in front of you. You’re surprised at how sensitive your eyes have become to the UV rays. There’s a hand on yours, then your glasses pressed into your palm, the fingers not pulling away until you unfold them and slip them onto your face.

“Good?” Bucky asks.

You nod, “Good.”

The windows are down, the warm breeze whipping around you, caressing your skin. The radio is turned up - Dreams by Fleetwood Mac - as you drive. Bucky hums softly, his metal fingers linking with yours, his lips pressing against your temple every now and again. Steve taps along to the beat with his fingers against your bare, exposed knee before he squeezes it gently. You smile as you start to relax, Steve’s words coming back to you. Just let us help you. You know we’ve always liked pampering you.

You drive for a while, over an hour maybe. Then, the car slows as you turn and stays slow, creeping almost, like Steve’s looking for something. The car turns again and comes to a stop a second or two later. The engine dies, the two buff bodies shift away from you as the doors pop open. There’s a tap on your right shoulder. You reach out and feel on the forearm until you find a hand, Bucky, before he grabs tightly and helps you out.

“I’m gonna help you, okay?” His voice is soft as he rubs his chin against your shoulder.

“Okay.” You answer. You turn your head to your left and blink quickly, anxiety starting to rush through your veins from the unfamiliarity of your surroundings, “Steve?”

“Right here, baby.” His voice is soft too. You feel his fingertips brush along the inside of your left wrist, just to assure you he’s close, “You’re okay. I had to get the bags.”

Bucky slips his arm around your waist and keeps your hand in his as he guides you. You count each step. Bucky narrates every move - that you are in a garage, just about to enter a house. You’re in a small hallway, seven steps before a left turn, then you’re in the kitchen. There’s an island to your left, a kitchen table with four chairs on your right and if you keep walking straight, you’re in the living room. He lets you feel your way, reaching out to touch the walls, the backs of the chairs, the island, as he talks.

You stop when Bucky stops, and then hear something slide open before the sounds of water crashing fills your ears. You’re back outside, the warmth of the sun falling over you like a blanket in the middle of winter. A hand slips down your calf and wraps around your ankle before your foot is lifted and your shoe removed. A broad smile covers your face. You haven’t been to the beach since the diagnosis.

You take a step forward once you’re barefoot, one of them grabbing your wrist quickly, “There’s steps, babe.” Bucky says.

“How many?”

“Six.” Steve answers, “Here let me-”

“I got it.” You say dancing your fingers over the railing and taking small, cautious steps until you feel the first step, “I got it.”

They’re hovering again. You can’t see it, but Steve has both hands extending out on either side of you, ready to catch you if you stumble. Bucky jumps the railing entirely, landing softly in the sand and rushes to the bottom step, his eyes on you as you move down them slowly.  When you step into the hot sand, your smile grows - if that’s even possible. You wiggle your toes as the grains slip between them and the waves continue to crash not far from where you stand.

Steve and Bucky keep their small distance from you as you walk towards the ocean’s edge, knowing you're close when the sand changes from loose and dry to stiff and wet. The water washes up over your feet, the smell of salt fills your nostrils, the random calls of seagulls both near and far ring in your ears. You grab the hem of your cover up and pull it over your head, discarding it onto the ground without a care as you move deeper into the water - a new purpose, new life flowing through your veins.

You don’t feel them hovering anymore. You guess they’ve both stopped at the water’s edge, soft smiles on their faces as they watch a wave crash into you, making you stumble. You laugh, loud and carefree, as you fall on your butt, the strength of the water pushing you around slightly. You don’t know it, but Bucky’s smile widens and Steve’s chin trembles as they watch you find a meaning again.

Tilting your head to the sky, you run your wet hands over your head before you wrap them around your legs, bringing them into your chest. You let the sun beat down on you. You let the water wash over you. You let the tears come. You let them slide down your cheeks and fall into the water. You let the ocean carry all of your tears, sadness, anxiety, and depression away from you and out into the abyss. You don’t want it back.

You lay out underneath the sun for hours, making peace with yourself, becoming one with the sand, water, and sun. Steve and Bucky keep a watchful eye until you call for them. Then, and only then do they approach, hands and fingers and lips all over your damp skin. They lay with you, staring up into the sky and calling out the shapes of the clouds. They play with you, splashing water in your face and pinching and tickling your sides as the three of you laugh loudly. Wildly.

You feel like yourself again.

When the sun sets, and the breeze rolling off of the water turns chilly, making chills run through you and bumps pop up on your skin, the three of you head back inside. Door dash brings you a quick dinner, which you all inhale before heading back into the bedroom to bathe. Bathtubs are rarely big enough for the three of you, but you always make it work - sitting in Bucky’s lap, your back to his chest, Steve at the other end.

Steve shaves your legs slowly, dropping kisses on the inside of your ankle as Bucky massages the shampoo into your short hair. Bucky taps underneath your chin before he pushes his index finger into it softly, tilting your head back. He pours warm water over your hair, sweeping his hand through it to push the suds away. Just let us help you. You know we’ve always liked pampering you.

You stay in the tub with your boys until the water runs cold. You’re wrapped up in a warm, fluffy towel, Bucky rubbing his hands up and down your arms trying to warm you up as you shiver and laugh at yourself. A song starts to play from somewhere in the house, slightly muffled as the sound passes through the walls and down the halls. Dream A Little Dream Of Me. The duet between Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were long replaced by Captain America and The Winter Soldier by the time this version came out, but they love it all the same. It reminds them of home, they tell you.

You’re suddenly crushed against one of them - Steve. You know this because you run your hands along his chest to his shoulder, not feeling the jagged, deep scar where Bucky’s flesh meets metal. He grabs your small hand and places it to his chest as he sways with you, back and forth, turning in slow circles as Louis croons.

Stars fading, but I linger on, dear

Still craving your kiss

I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear

Just saying this

Steve spins you away from him and Bucky finds you, wrapping you up in his arms - an arm slung around your waist, fingers spread against your naked back as he holds your hand. You melt into him, humming softly as your toes brush against his, the soft sounds of your feet pushing along the hardwood floor beneath you adding a natural soundtrack.

Steve’s hands find your shoulders from behind. He presses his thumbs into your flesh as he squeezes and rubs slowly, his lips peppering your jaw and down your neck, “You’re so tense, baby.” He whispers.

“Depression will do that to you,” you chuckle, your new humor darker than what either one of them are used to. You feel them both stiffen at your words, hear a sad sigh from behind you, “Sorry. It was just a joke.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Bucky says, “We want to know what you're feeling, good, bad or indifferent. You don’t have to joke with us.”

You take a breath. You rest your head on his chest and start to chew on your bottom lip, “I know.” Your voice is small.

Defense mechanism.

You fight the urge to cry. Your eyes start to water, your skin starts to flush with heat, your jaw gets tight. Steve grabs the back of your neck gently as he kisses your shoulder blade gently, just wanting you to feel him. Bucky keeps dancing with you as the tears start to fall, cupping the back of your head in his large hand as he pushes his lips to your forehead.

What is it your therapist says? You aren’t in this alone, or something like that. You never believed her, or those words - until right now. Right in this moment. It’s been a year of self imposed loneliness. Dark thoughts accompanied by even darker impulsions of wanting to slip underneath the water and never resurface. Fear and anxiety telling you that you need to push away - they’ll both leave you one day for a resemblance of normalcy again.

They haven’t.

They won’t.

The days have turned into weeks, have turned into months - and here they are. Slow dancing with you in the moonlight as Ella Fitzgerald plays through the walls. Bucky wipes at your cheek with his thumb, pushing the emotion away. He nuzzles his cheek against yours as you reach up and scratch at the nape of his neck to calm yourself, “We aren’t going anywhere, doll.” He whispers.

“We promise.” Steve adds on.

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. Bucky tilts your head towards his and without a warning, his lips cover yours. Soft. Commanding. His velvet tongue massaging yours as Steve bites down on your shoulder.

The sheets of the bed are soon mangled and twisted, pillows cast to the floor as you writhe beneath Bucky’s heavy body. Your leg is thrown over his hip, your fingernails dig into his thick flesh, the tips of his long, soft, dark hair brushing over your face. You have your other arm draped over his neck as his hips push into yours, driving himself deeper and deeper into you. Your mouth hangs, as does his - lips brushing against each other, hot breath washing over each other's skin as you push your foreheads together.

Steve waits patiently, although his fingers dance over your breasts, his palms brushing over your nipples before he palms your skin. He squeezes and gropes before he sends his hand down your stomach and to your clit to rub gentle circles against it as Bucky pummels you. He’s on his side, his nose and forehead pressed against the side of your face, his bottom lip between his teeth before he nips at your jaw and chin.

He tears your hand away from Bucky’s body to grab his hard length, dragging your palm with his, down his shaft. He’s so warm. His tip wet from his arousal.

It’s been a long while since the three of you have made love. It’s been a long while since you’ve felt beautiful enough too. You hadn’t realized how much of your self esteem was wrapped up in your hair until you had to shave it off. You also weren’t sure if you’d like it the way you used to - handle it with the same confidence you once had. Not being able to see them - see their hard muscles and their strained faces while in the throws of passion. That’s what turned you on.

Not anymore.

It’s the way you can tell them apart without having to see them. It’s the feel of their bodies now, not the sight of them. How rough and dominant Bucky’s hips are in your darkness, how sweet and loving Steve’s touch is. Their sounds; both deep and desperate for you. How the sounds vibrate against your ear drums and skin, moving through you - the illicit response your body has to them - the sounds.

You slam your head back into the pillow as Bucky pulls out of you. You pant and moan as you arch your back from the mattress as they shift around. Steve’s lips, you know their Steve’s because they’re rushed; always rushing, rushing, rushing like he’s still a man running out of time, push against your stomach, light kisses moving down to your sex. He bends your legs back, your feet dangling by his ears as he nibbles on the inside of your thigh.

Bucky grabs your hand just as Steve pushes his nose through your folds and sucks you into his mouth. Bucky moves your hand down his hard stomach to his pulsing hips. You wrap your hand around his warmth and feel him pump up into it, a little grunt falling from his lips at the same time.

Steve hums as his tongue swirls around you, flicking and lapping at you as his index and middle fingers push into your cunt. You buck your hips into his face, using all of him, his chin, his lips, his nose to cop a feel as he sucks on you. He releases your flesh with a loud smack - then drags his wet mouth the length of your thigh, up to your knee, and along your calf as he sits up on his knees. He extends your leg, resting it against his chest and shoulder as he sucks your manicured toes into his mouth, his large hand caressing your calf.

Bucky growls as he sucks your taut nipple into his mouth and wraps his metal fingers around your throat. He then kisses your mouth, hard and desperate, moaning into you as he continues to push his hips into your warm hand and against your side. He squeezes, gently, slowly, causing you to gasp just as Steve pushes into your wet, slick, swollen cunt.

You groan into Bucky’s hot mouth as Steve starts to move. His thrusts are softer, gentler than Bucky’s - always have been. He keeps your leg curled over his shoulder, his lips peppering kisses along your ankle and calf, his other hand and fingers gripping your thigh. The cool metal of Bucky’s fingers skip over your hot skin, down between your breasts and to your stomach before he flattens his palm against you, pushing down to add some pressure.

Bucky bites your bottom lip, pulling softly before he lets go. He nuzzles back into the side of your face, the stubble on his cheek cutting across your skin. He wraps his hand around yours that still pumps his cock and glides it slowly up and down, up and down, up and down as he moans into your ear; heavy, hot breath caressing your neck and the side of your face.

Steve hits a spot; your toes curl. Your hips jerk - your muscles tense. Fingers begin to massage your clit, slow, slow, slow circles to draw out the sensation. Teeth nibble at your ear lobe. Fingers glance across your skin. Mouths and lips take turns on yours. Steve drives his hips harder and faster - pushing, pulling, pushing, pulling. Bucky breaths fire laced words, provoking you, prodding you, coercing you to just let it all go…

You shatter. It consumes every bit of you. Physically. Emotionally. Their hands and fingers are everywhere, gripping, pinching, holding as you come. Steve pulls out of you - he always liked to watch you come, how your sticky, swollen sex convulses with each contraction from your orgasm, your clit jumping. He pushes his fingers back through your folds as he pushes his cock inside of you again, also loving the squeeze.

You feel hot, quick bursts of silk, over and over, splash against your stomach. Bucky groans with each, right up against your ear, the sound vibrating through your entire body.

Heat then blooms inside of you - Steve. Your muscles constrict around him, pulling each warm, thick ribbon of cum from him, coating your walls. He pushes deep and grabs your hand, placing it right in the middle of his chest so you can feel his muscles tense and flex as he comes. Feel the soft rumble of the grunts that vibrate through his chest. Feel his heart.

He collapses beside you, your body bouncing against the mattress as his weight pushes against it. The three of you are nothing but heavy breaths and balmy skin. Eyelashes resting against your cheeks as your eyes close with the recession of your lust. A head rests on your chest. You lift your hand and slip your fingers through the tresses, finding them short and kind of wispy - Steve.

Metal fingers curl within yours, a sturdy leg thrown over your thighs. A hand splays across your chest. Lips connect with your shoulders and jaw - fingers massage and scratch at your scalp softly. It’s all a blur. The haze won’t let your brain try and figure out who is who; but maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s what you need. You don’t need to know. You can let go some of the control that you’ve been so desperately searching for.

You inhale deeply; and let out the breath you’ve been holding for over a year.

Your delicate fingers are lifted and pressed against hot lips - each digit receiving a kiss before being placed on a chest. The thump thump thump of a heart beat drums against them. You let out another breath as you nuzzle into their heavy bodies, soft I love you’s passing back and forth. There’s a faint skip of the record player down the hall. The soft whoosh of the breeze playing with the open curtains that cover the windows. Three bodies huddled in the center of the bed; just breathing.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.