#its been a little over two months and im scared

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

the thing about chronic migraines that they dont tell you is the lingering terror of the long stretches in between them. bc you know you'll have one again. its inevitable. its just a matter of time.

but then you desperately try Not to think about it because you dont want to jinx it / somehow psyche yourself into one

[borderlinegerard]

i hope i die, you broke my heart

[garlique]

no one knows how much i want a goddamn cig

[mrfoox]

Wtf is my fascination with this little freak.... Hes just a dude but I'm so intrigued, I'm tired

[https-florals]

daydreamin' and i'm thinking of you - j.m.

summary: jj returns from a day of surfing and devotes his night to you and a lil bit of weed.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: smoking weed, a lil suggestive, but mostly super fluffy and full of sweetness

author's note: back from the dead pookies!!! i just wanna say how incredibly grateful that none of yall have come for my wishy-washy ass! this year has been vcery hectic and rough, and i am so thankful y'all have let me be MIA. here's this little blurb smooch ily (i was too scared to flesh out the smut at the end IM SORRY ITS BEEN A WHILE)

JJ smells like a perfect, heady blend of sunscreen and salt when he and the boys get back from surfing. You’re waiting on the porch like a little 1950’s wife, and he runs up and hugs you as soon as he gets out of the Twinkie, acting like its been months since he’s seen you instead of a few hours.

“J!” You’re giggling as he swings you around, smacking loud kisses all over your face and neck. 

“Missed ya, pretty girl,” he murmurs into your neck.

John B slaps JJ’s back, surprising him so he lets go of you. “You literally just saw each other.” 

JJ’s jaw drops, hand over his heart like he’s been deeply wounded. “You’re just mad your woman isn’t out here to greet you,” he counters, squeezing your side and giving John B a sympathetic look.

“Wrong!’ Sarah says as she pushes open the screen door, giving her boyfriend an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek. 

John B grins back at JJ, and follows Sarah back inside. 

“You still up for that boat date later?” you ask, fingers intertwining with his.

You swear his eyes sparkle. “Um, duh!” 

A few hours later, the sun is sinking into the horizon, sky turning the prettiest pink and orange. You are toting a basket full of picnic supplies: a tupperware full of elote salad, another with some grilled chicken, a speaker, and of course, a little cellophane baggie and some rolling papers. JJ’s job is to carry the fishing poles and bait (raw hot-dogs because why would he spend money on crickets when there’s hot dogs in the fridge?), and the six-pack of mini Dr. Peppers you’ll split (JJ will inevitably drink two of your three). 

“Where are you going?” You hear someone call from inside the house, but both of you act like you can’t hear it. 

HMS Pogue is sitting pretty at the end of the dock, and you practically skip onto it. The rev of the engine is like the call of an old friend, thrumming through you, bare feet on the deck.

You sit cross legged at the bow while JJ drives, your hair flowing behind you. The spray of freshwater is perfectly refreshing. 

It’s dusk when the boat reaches a little secluded spot on the marsh, and JJ announces it. “Gorgeous,” he says, the sky purple above him. “And no one around for miles.” He plops next to you, sticking his nose in your neck and sighing. You’re sitting pretty in a bikini top and jean shorts, and he plays with the tie at your back.

You laugh and push him off, getting up to get your basket of food. He helps you unload it, mouthing a silent yes as he pulls out the sodas. Then comes the tupperware, and he sticks two spoons into the corn. “Cheers.” He holds his out.

You tap your spoon against his, and gasp in fake shock when he knocks the food of it.

“Gotta be ready, babe,” he deadpans, snatching up your bite after he eats his. “Danger is waiting at every turn.”

You shake your head and laugh, scooting the tupperware closer to yourself. “You’re so weird.”

“You love it,” He grins, and you can’t argue with that. 

After you eat, JJ pulls out the package of hotdogs and starts to prep the rods.

“There’s no way you can catch fish with those,” you question, wrinkling your nose at them. You frown, turning on the puppy-dog eyes. “Do we have to fish? I wanna smoke.”

He copies your expression and sticks his bottom lip out. “Poor bunny,” he mocks, but shoves your fishing pole in your hand all the same. “Catch a fish, I’ll roll you a joint, ‘kay?”

You sigh. “ ‘Kay,” 

He grins and plants a kiss on your forehead. “You got it, babe.” He gives you a chunk of hotdog and you slip it onto the hook. JJ comes up behind you to guide your cast and you let him, his breath warm on the back of your neck. There’s the whir of the line, and the satisfying plop of the bobber in the water. 

“Now, we wait.” He takes the rod from you and drops it into the holder, and works on casting his own line. 

You’re bored before he even puts his down. “I have to catch a fish before we smoke?”

“Yeah, crybaby.” The two of you sit on the bow, feet dangling over the water. His ankle knocks against yours.

You let out another dramatic sigh, but you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “This is the worst part. I hate waiting.”

JJ laughs. “Yeah, honey. I am well aware.” He pokes your side, and you yelp dramatically. Reaching over you, he pulls the speaker out of your basket, and turns it on. You watch as he connects to it and goes through his spotify, thumb skimming over the screen as he looks through his playlists. JJ clicks on one of your collaborative playlists, titled “songs for slow dancing.”

He stands up, reaching out to pull you up as the hauntingly pretty piano intro for Aretha Franklin’s Daydreaming begins to play. “Wanna kill some time?”

You smile, and let him pull you into him. You think you could slow dance with him until you dropped dead, until you collapsed into each other and turned into intertwined fossils. Maybe that kind of thing is a little too poetic for the two of you, but you don’t really care. He starts to sing along, and you press your ear to his chest to hear his voice thrum through his chest.

daydreaming and i’m thinking of you, daydreaming and i’m thinking of you…

One of his hands splays on the small of your back, fingertips sneaked under the waist of your shorts, callused and all too soft. The other one is holding yours as you sway back and forth to the beat.He twirls you out fast, and back into his grip, your back to his chest as he squeezes you.

No one would ever know it, but JJ absolutely loves to dance. A little after you started dating, you dragged him to some swing dancing classes at the community center, and expected plenty of pushback, but you were met with absolutely none. The two of you fell in love stepping on each others toes and falling all over each other. It’s always a fun party trick to pull out at the fancier parties. He’s always wanting to dance with you, whether it’s learning how to shag in the living room late at night, or spinning you around on the boat.

He stops you mid-step, asking, “Can we try the dirty-dancing jump?”

The dirty-dancing jump has only been successfully executed by the two of you once. All other times have ended in someone being injured (usually JJ). Your jaw drops open, and you lightly shove him. “Absolutely not! You wanna fall off the boat?”

He gives you the biggest eyeroll, but immediately switches to puppy dog eyes when you cross your arms. “Just like, a lift? Pleaseeeee,” he drags out, taking your hands and acting like he’s going limp. 

“Fine! But if you drop me in this water, I’m actually going to have serious beef with you, Maybank.”

He laughs, maybe an itty-bit manaically, and grabs your waist. “Okay, I’m gonna count you off, and you’ll jump, ‘kay? So, one, two, three-”

You hear your fishing rod rattle in its holder and jump away from him. “My line!” Scrambling after it, you grab the pole right as it looks like it’s going to leap out of its holster.

“Get it babe!” JJ practically shouts, darting behind you and placing his arms around yours to give you a little support. 

The whir of the line rushing out makes you jump, and you hurry to start reeling it back in, furiously turning the handle. JJ’s mouth is by your ear as you lean into him and he talks you up as you fight the fish. “Come on, baby, you got it. Keep going, keep going, you almost got it!”

He’s pulling half the weight, you know that, but you don’t mind the help when you can watch the cords in his forearms tense and pull.

Finally, the line leaps out of the water, and soon a big scaly body is flopping on the deck of the boat. “Atta girl!” JJ shouts as you snatch it up by the lure, holding it up proudly. It’s pretty heavy, probably a little over 14 pounds. 

“Look at that, baby! Got yourself a bluefish.” JJ is smiling so proudly as he fishes out his phone, and makes you pose for a picture like one of those Tinder frat guys. The flash is harsh and you know you look crazy, but he grins at the picture all the same.

“Can you throw him back in? He’s too pretty to eat,” you ask as he messes with something on his phone. You’re still holding the fish as you try to lean over and see what he’s doing.

“Here, yeah.” He drops his phone on the boat deck and takes the fish from you to fling back in. When you look at his phone, you see your face staring back up at you from his lockscreen. It was some picture of the two of you from a party, but now it’s you and your fish. He immediately changed his wallpaper after he took the picture. In your opinion, it’s definitely not a knockout photo, but you almost tear up at the sweetness of it.  

“You looked cute,” JJ shrugs, seeing you looking at it. 

You just smile, shaking your head, and lean against him. “Can we get high now?”

“Damn, you waste no time, huh?”

Soon, your fishing rods forgotten, you’re watching JJ roll you a joint to share. His fingers dance along the rolling paper, tucking and smoothing all gentle. He’s mesmerizing. When his tongue darts out to wet the paper, you swear you start salivating.

He catches you staring, hitting you with that heartbreaker grin again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Shut up and light up,” you sigh, reaching for the blunt in his hands. 

“Can’t light up if you don’t hand me my lighter,” JJ frowns, expression sarcastic. He puts his hand out, waiting.

You reach into your basket and pull it out, smiling when you see it. A few months ago, you had decided to buy JJ a custom lighter. You got him one off Etsy, a cheap Bic lighter with your face printed on the plastic. Of course, the image didn’t translate correctly, so the picture is heavily distorted, your smile big and wide and eyes even bigger. 

It’s probably his favorite possession. 

He lights the joint, letting it smoke for a second before raising it to his lips.

“Hey,” you whine, reaching for his hand. 

“So needy,” he chides, taking a hit, gripping you by your neck, and blowing the smoke into your open mouth. Your breath hitches as you try your best to inhale, try to not think about his lips just ghosting over yours, his calloused fingers hard on the sides of your neck.

“Good girl,” he exhales as you successfully breathe in without hacking up your lungs.

The frogs are peeping and the wind is slow and soft, pushing the smoke around the two of you and enveloping you in it. You’re talking mindlessly as the joint passes between you, staring at the way moonlight shines through JJ’s hair, turning it platinum. His irises catch the light just right- bright, icy blue. 

You’re sitting cross-legged, knees knocking with his. All you can think about his how much you love your boyfriend, even with the edges of your mind soft and your senses fuzzy. JJ takes your hand, pressing the pads of your fingertips against his. 

“It’s like I can feel your fingerprints,” he comments, fingertips lightly rubbing yours. He pulls your hand as he leans back, so you’re both on your back, looking at the stars.

“It’s so pretty,” you whisper in awe. With absolutely zero light pollution, the sky is a myriad of deep black and blue hues and so, so many stars. You’d decompose while trying to count them all. You snuggle up against J as he takes a final hit. From your perspective, the rising smoke almost looks like it’s weaving through the stars, netting around them and sparkling right above your head. JJ tosses the remnant of the joint into your grocery bag of trash. 

“C’mere,” he sighs, propping himself up and running a hand down your torso. When he kisses you, he tastes like smoke and sweat, and a wave of heat rushes through you just from the taste. You’re pulling him on top of you by the loops of his cargo shorts, pressing yourself against the firm plane of his abdomen.

“God, you’re needy,” he laughs, pinning your hips down with a heavy hand. 

“You made me this way,” you squirm, and it’s true. He’s too generous with his touches and too sugary with his words, and you chase him like he’s a hit of the purest cocaine. 

He shifts on top of you, a knee between your thighs just like you like it. He presses his knee up just to see you gasp and grind down on him. JJ’s laugh is a little mean as snaps the waistband of your shorts. “Okay, honey, what do you want?”

There’s no shame in your voice as you blurt out, “Fuck me.” You’re whining out a plea before he can even answer, with no care that you’re out in the open… no care that the cops patrol at night.

JJ fakes shock, but the hardness of him against you gives him away. “You wanna get fucked, huh. Out in the open?”

“Don’t act like this wasn’t your whole plan, smartass,” you counter as he pins your hands down right above your head. 

He just laughs in response. “Dirty, dirty, dirty,” he tuts rebukingly, but he’s pulling apart the tie of your swimsuit top all the same.

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

[strawberries-and-racing]

high for this - mv1 fluff + smut (part two of i wanna be yours)

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

a/n: im so proud to finallyyy post this and im so sorry to everyone who had to wait months and months for this but it's finally out and I hope you enjoy it🩷

requests that came together and inspired this series:

• nsfw prompts 9-13 (in pt. 2)

• 'listen up. Obsessive possessive crazy max for sweet innocent reader smut.'

• 'ok so we need dark FICS of any driver of your choice but make him very obsessive and possessive and don't forget the smut. Keep it up girlllll!!!'

taglist<3: @flucffyseven @avg-golden-retriever @pxppeypianotme@annewithaneofthegreengable @herefortheteadandthed @ananyasr1bughead @sp1cycurry @rhey-007 @larastark3107 @sarahedwards16 @bbeeth @lpab @yourneighbourhoodfriendlywitch @alwaysboredsworld @lexiecamposv @vellicora @depressedriches @snugbug@omgsuperstarg

summary: a date with max + smut <3 (part 2)

warnings: fluff, smut, choking, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetration, edging, overstimulation, begging, dirty talk, obsessive max, degradation and praise at the same time🤨

°~•☆•♡•☆•~°

you and max's steps were perfectly in sync as you made your way down the streetlight lit sidewalk. the rest of the world fell away behind you as he captured all your attention.

you'd managed to let go of some of the nervousness that previously flooded your mind. the quietness of the night and the magnetic aura of the man beside you was calming.

you're holding his hand a little tighter than necessary, but you cant help it. your hand in his just felt so nice, so right.

you'd never felt that anyone had touched you with true passion. no one had touched you in the way that made you feel like your souls were colliding. and the feeling of max's hand left you craving more, made your legs weak.

"max," you look up at him.

"yeah?" he answers, meeting your gaze.

"when you drive—" you pause, wondering how to word the question youd been longing to ask. "—are you ever...scared?"

he raises his eyebrows, smiling a little.

"no, never."

"so, dying, it never crossed your mind while you're in the car?"

he presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, considering your words.

"no, it doesn't. why?" he looks at you expectantly.

"i just, i dont know. i always think about that. it seems terrifying to me but it just doesn't seem to affect you." you fidget with your necklace.

"i guess... you just get used to it. i know its dangerous but, it doesnt really bother me because i know that im in control."

control was apparently something max liked quite a lot. you were slowly beginning to realize that.

"we're almost there" he says, something in his voice makes you shiver.

he tugs on your hand, leading you around a sharp corner.

you catch your breath, gasping softly. in front of you was a steep drop off that led to the river below. the glimmering lights of downtown stretched out ahead of you.

the sight was so breathtaking beautiful you couldnt tear your eyes away.

max however, wasn't interested in any of it. he had a much more interesting view right in beside of him.

your eyes were big and shining in awe, stray strands of hair littering your face. your mouth slightly open, your breathing deep and slow. the grip you had on maxs loosened slightly. you looked angelic, fragile.

if max could have his way he would have fucked you right there until you screamed so loud the others back at the restaurant would've heard.

but he supposed he could wait alittle longer before he pulled something like that.

"i—" you truly cant find the words. you slowly turn to look at max. you're struck by how handsome he looks in the dim light of the street lamps " thank you for..." your eyes flicker over his features "bringing me here."

you wished he would've kissed you, in fact you were desperate for it. but he didn't.

"anytime," he smiles, looking to at the sky, letting go of your hand and sitting down on the grass.

you sit next to him, leaning into him a little, you realized how tired you were. you rest your head on his shoulder.

the scent of your shampoo, your perfume, messed with his head. 

sitting there, with the moon and city lights brightening the night and stars twinkling over head, you would have fallen asleep. but at some point, max had started absent mindedly tracing patterns on your thigh.

the slow, careful motions of his fingers made you dizzy.

finally, after over an hour of you wrapped in maxs arms, sitting under the night sky, he nudged you softly.

"come on y/n," his voice is gentle as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. you were grateful the dim lighting hid your blush. "i'll take you home."

you nod sleepily. "ok," you sigh as he helps you stand up. he puts his arm around you once again as you make your way to his car, his bodyheat the perfect contrast to the night breeze that swirled around you.

"thanks again max, that was fun". you mumble. hearing you say his name like that, and while you were in such a vulnerable state made him swallow the emotions that simmered within him.

"im happy you liked it y/n,"

  °~•☆•♡•☆•~°

it's just before 9 in the morning as you make your way into hq. he's beside you before you even make it to the building. max seemed to have a knack for finding you.

you two being seen together had become a regular occurence. rumours were beginning to spark in the red bull team.

over the last few days, people had certainly began to notice that max had a special soft spot just for you.

it was impossible not to pick up on the way he looked at you, the way his gaze lingered. the way he found any excuse to talk to you, to touch you, to be around you.

he was constantly distracted by you. his demeanor always changing when you were around. you were the sun and he was captured in your orbit.

"hey mooi (beautiful)"

you recognize his voice immediately.

you laugh a little at the unfamiliar word. "what does that mean?"

max only smiles and shakes his head, chuckling to himself.

"nothing" he says, you brush the comment off.

"i was thinking, tonight i signed us up for a pottery class. i just remembered you saying something about it the other day."

you stop walking, turning to face him. he smiles when he sees the admiration and surprise that's written all over your face.

"it's at seven, if you're not busy."

it was so thoughtful, so sweet, so astonishing. max verstappen wanted to take you on a date. to a pottery class, because he heard you 'saying something about it the other day'. feelings wash over you. you're speechless.

you smile, warmth spreading across your body. "yes of course." you bite your lip. "that's so sweet of you max."

"well, i'll see you tonight then." his voice resonates across your whole body.

  °~•☆•♡•☆•~°

you spent the whole evening getting ready. you were too anxious to do anything else. the idea of going on a date with max verstappen had you jittery.

you wanted everything to be perfect. you relished the time you spent showering, doing your nails and your hair. putting on your makeup and your white dress.

you're ready early and you can't stand having nothing to do other than sit and wait, staring out the window expectantly.

finally, you see him pull up. the car is sexy but you know its not his nicest.

you rush out the door and down the stairs. you leave the building and meet him at the door.

"hey" he says, looking a bit surprised "i thought I had to—" gesturing to the doorbell. you smile looking away.

"i saw your car" you say, casually waving his concerns away.

"oh," the implication that you had been waiting for him fueled his confidence.

you make the short walk to the car together, the sun already low in the sky.

nerves twisted inside of you so tightly that you were surprised you could even walk. despite your nervousness, you could hardly hold back your smile.

you were so excited, there was no other way to put it.

°~•☆•♡•☆•~°

you didn't know someone could look so good driving until you were in the passenger seat next to max. one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the glove box.

the rev of the engine, his natural tendency to drive aggressively, to drive fast.

something about it. how controlling the car was so effortless for him, had you pressing your knees together.

"what made you want to do pottery?" he asks, bringing you back to the present.

you look at him. "i don't know," you admit "it seems relaxing, and i've been wanting to try something new."

"relaxing? it's always seemed stressful to me, having to shape the clay and everything," he glances at you, "messy too."

you both smile.

"yeah but that's part of it, and you get to wear an apron so it's no big deal."

it's not a long drive, and soon the little pottery place comes into view as he pulls into the mostly empty parking lot. the pottery studio is nestled between a coffee shop and a little book store. it seems like something you'd find in a tv show.

you take a deep breath, letting excitment replace your tense nerves.

°~•☆•♡•☆•~°

focusing on your own pottery proved to be extremely difficult. your eyes kept wandering over to max's hands.

he worked the clay with such careful precision and looked so goddamn good doing it. the fluid mouvments of his fingers, the concentration in his eyes.

it was sexy, and it was building that familiar tension and heat in your stomach that you always felt when you were around him.

even though it was his first time doing this, he looked confident, sure of himself.

as the class progressed, and handling the clay became more and more delicate, you were able to find some concentration.

your brows furrowing slightly, eyes narrow as you stared down at your pottery. suddenly, you feel max's knee bump against yours, your hand slips, messing up your work.

you turn to stare at him, mouth open and eyes wide in shock. he's staring back, eyes full of mischief and a smile plastered on his face.

"max!" you hiss, bumping his knee back.

"what?" he laughed, it was impossible to stay mad though and you found yourself laughing along with him.

°~•☆•♡•☆•~°

it was the last class of the day and the parking lot was amlost empty, the sun was barely clinging to the horizon. the two of you left the class together, you walk slowly next to him, talking about the class.

"i didn't expect there to me so many steps. i mean first we got the clay ready then hand to wet our hands and start the spinning thing and the technique i had to use to get it just right..."

you stared at him, smiling a little to yourself as he continued talking.

he was explaining more with his hands than his words. you'd heard jokes about this around the paddock and hq before: he was maxplaining.

but you didn't mind. you liked hearing him talk, the sound of his voice, the many emotions in his eyes.

you get to the car, but max isn't quite done talking. you wait patiently, smiling at him, listening to everything he has to say about the class until, "...so yeah, that's it." he shrugs.

"yeah i agree," you say, looking up at him, you're back towards the car. "it seems like you liked it."

"i loved it."

"then we should go again sometime," you suggest.

he nods, "we should."

his eyes flicker to your lips. it was so brief, so quick, you think that maybe you had imagined it.

"im so lucky i got to take you out," he says. your eyes widen. the sweetness of his words catches you off guard.

your heart beat faster and faster as max began to lean just a little closer to you.

you knew that once he kissed you that would be it, you would be his. that the visions of him wouldn't stop after that. that there would be no room in your emotions for anything but him.

blood rushed to your head, his blue eyes so close to yours.

and then he did it. he kissed you. you felt weak as his lips touched yours, reaching your hand out to touch him. your eyes were already firmly shut and you blossomed beneath his touch like a flower.

the feeling of his mouth against yours, warm and soft, sent once again a rush of helplessness and the familiar surge of heat which left you limp and leaning into his embrace. 

his insistent mouth was parting your hesitant lips, sending shivers through you. 

your only thought was him. max. you were acutely aware of every detail. his hand brushing over your hair, his other lightly cupping your cheek. his body pressing you gently against the car. the taste of his lips.

all of it swirled together in your mind like a dizzying haze.

finally, after what was a lifetime to you, he gently pulled away from you. as soon as he did so you felt something missing. to put it simply, his body against yours felt so right.

"come back with me." he says in a low voice.

you hesitate, carefully choosing what to do, what to say.

"i— yes," you nod. that's all you had to say and he was helping you into the car and pulling out if the parking lot.

°~•☆•♡•☆•~°

time passed in a strange way as you drove to the hotel. the seconds passed slowly but the minutes flew by.

the anticipation building in your stomach was making it difficult to maintain normal conversation with max. the tension was thick in the air, you tried to concentrate on the city lights whizzing by through the window.

'are you coming to the next race?'

his voice cuts through the silence and eases your nerves somewhat, but there's still a tight knot in your stomach.

'yeah i am, i can't wait.' he glances at you 'i mean i've heard so many good things about silverstone.'

'yeah the crowds are insane, the fans are so passionate you know?' he speaks in that voice he always has when he talks about racing, his words sound smooth and warm. 'even if they aren't too passionate about me.'

you both laugh, smiling at eachother.

°~•☆•♡•☆•~°

your legs are shaking slightly by the time you get to the hotel, anxious thoughts flooding your mind.

you fumble with your seat belt and the door for a minute before he helps you out, taking your hand and leading you up to his hotel room.

he pushes open the door. your jaw drops.

the hotel room is almost bigger than your apartment. it's so luxurious, you can't imagine max finding a use for all this space.

for a second, as you admire the room around you, you think maybe you could get used to this.

before you can continue the thought, you feel his hands on your hips, turning you around to face him. you reach your arms up, around his shoulders. you relish the butterflies in your stomach.

"that pottery class was perfect max." you say in a hushed voice "i really loved it."

he smiles softly, not breaking eye contact.

"im glad you had a good time."

he slowly brings his mouth to yours once again. he kisses you tenderly. softer then last time, more careful.

gradually, without taking his lips off yours he pushed you backwards, guiding you towards the bed and carefully pressing you into the matress.

his lips brush over your jaw, placing soft pecks along your jawline, teasing you with light touches of his lips to your skin.

the tension grows as he keeps marking g your neck with hickeys that will surely embarrass you tommorrow. but now, all you felt was restlessness. he’s so warm, so close to you.

his lips are hot again your skin. you squirm a little as his lips started to trial down to your exposed collarbone.

when he touched you like this it felt demanding, controlling, like you had no choice but to listen and do what he asked.

you were already becoming such a mess. the way you were so quick to melt in his hands made you feel a little embarrassed.

he continues to place his kisses, listening to your breathing, enjoying the sound of your heartbeat, the soft exhales and hums of satisfaction. he takes his time decorating your neck and chest as his own.

an involuntary gasp escaped you once he found that spot between your collar bone and your throat that had you squirming beneath him.

his mouth worked hickeys across your sensitive skin. he was everywhere and made you feel vulnerable.

he slowly made his way downwards to spread light kisses across your chest, brushing his lips softly over your breasts, making you shiver.

you bite your lip trying to hold back your moans, hands slightly tightening in his hair, barely resisting the immense urge to arch your back off the matress.

"let it out y/n," the sound of his voice clouded your mind. his words were a little deeper than usual, his accent thicker and incredibly hot. "let everyone hear you, let's make sure they know you're mine, yeah?" his words sent a rush of heat through you, all you could to was nod.

he continues working his way down your body, his fingers tracing down your stomach. his touch so feathery, so careful.

his hands fluttered over your stomach, tracing soft patterns across your skin.you shutter, your breathing shaky.

his fingers trailed up your thighs, barely even touching you, making anticipation curl in your stomach. a breathy moan escapes your lips.

his touch came closer and closer to your core, his pupils dilating as he took in the view right in front of him. you were dripping wetness, legs tensing slightly.

his fingers trace ever so lightly around the edges of your pussy. you couldnt take it any longer.

"max—" you moan softly, shutting your eyes momentarily. he smirks, looking up at you from between your legs.

"such pretty sounds, makes me want to wreck you." 

without hesitation he pushes your thighs apart a little further and licked a long stripe over your folds.

the unexpected stimulation makes you squirm, one of his hands finds your wrists and holds them above your head, forcing you to be still.

his tongue swirled over your clit, you had to shut your eyes. your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling his closer to your cunt as your head fell back.

"fuck," you whisper, max hums underneath you; the vibration makes you squirm. he rips another moan from your throat as his tongue rubs tight circles around your clit.

his forced your thighs apart even wider as his mouth continued to work.

max was impatient by this point, he just wanted his fingers inside of you. to feel your hot cunt clenching around him.

while you're writhing in pleasure underneath him all he can think about is taking advantage of your lovely body, taking control of your mind, ruining you for anyone else.

your fingers knot in his hair as his fingers rub over your g-spot, pulling him in and pushing him out at the same time.

every sweet moan from your lips inflating his ego as his fingers dig into you deeply and unforgivingly.

you let your back arch, moving your hips, desperately wanting to grind down onto his fingers as your orgasm built in your stomach. but his hand hands your hip and presses you back into the matress. he feels your pussy shudder around his fingers and he has to use all his strength to not pull his fingers out of you.

he would love nothing more than to see the look of desperation on your face, to hear you beg and plead for him to let you come. but he thought better of it, he decided that tonight was for you.

he shifts so that he's back on top of you, his thumb replacing his tongue on your clit and his mouth back on your neck.

"you wanna come don't you?"

you open your mouth to respond but before you can get the words out he curls his fingers inside of you, making you hiss, your fingers twist and grip the sheets.

"max—" you moan as he curls his fingers and scissors them, stretching you and making your eyes roll back.

"please" you whimpered.

you were so dangerously close to the edge, every thrust of his fingers nudging you closer to the tipping point.

finally, max let you come. one last impossibly deep thrust of his fingers and you were coming. moans falling from your lips, shutting your eyes in ecstasy.

his fingers gradually slowed as bliss rippled over you and your body trembled beneath his.

the sound of your heavy breathing filled the room as he gently pulled his fingers out of you, they're soaked in your cum.

without any thought or hesitation, he licks his fingers clean. the action was so casual, as if he'd done it a hundred times before, but it made your cunt ache for more of him.

you can't help but push your hips forwards a little and grind up and down the length of his cock.

he groans, his head falling and his hands once again coming to your hips to stop your mouvments.

"patience," he breathes, as his mouth once again finds your neck, his hands running across your body.

just as your breathing was beginning to steady, he runs the head of his cock over your folds, your cunt clenched around nothing, a million thoughts flood your mind.

he was so close to you in so many ways, almost inside you. his closeness helped your body relax, the warm tingling of your orgasm still lingering.

but the relaxation was short-lived as you realized: he doesn't know.

"max...?" your voice is bearly audible.

"mm hmm" max murmurs. he feels your body freeze up beneath him. he pulls away from your neck slightly to look at you.

you're blushing immensely and can't even meet his eyes. he's hit with realization before you even say anything.

"i've never—" you can barely get the words out, your voice a shy whisper. "i mean...it's my first time."

those four little words fuzzied his mind with a cloud of lust.

the fact that you were offering him something so precious, the fact that you were so pure, so untouched, that he would be the one to take your virginity affected every inch of him.

he brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes, his hand resting on your cheek. "dont worry, i'll take care of you" he says in a hushed voice.

his soft words were a stark contrast to his thoughts, all he could think about in that moment was fucking you stupid and corrupting your innocence.

but he didn't let it show. instead, he leaned down to kiss you.

“do you trust me?” his voice almost a whisper. his hands hold you by your waist, his eyes staring into yours.

you nod, eyes stinging with tears that threaten to spill over. emotions swirl inside you, you're unsure what you should be feeling. you swallow, trying to compose yourself.

"just... please be gentle" you murmur. max's lips press against your neck, you feel the vibration from a low sound in the back of his throat.

you sounded so painfully innocent, like you didn't really know what was going on.

he doesn't think you even know how your voice sounds. so soft, so sweet like your words are dipped in honey. everything about you was tearing him apart.

"breathe," he says.

you let out the breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. you moan instinctively at the stretch as you feel his cock entered you.

it was undescribable. you shut your eyes, tears running down your cheeks as the two of you slowly became one. it made your heart pound and your stomach twist, knowing that you couldn't be any closer than this, to know that he was inside of you.

max's groans set all of your sense on fire while he continues carefully pushing between your tight walls.

his head falls to your neck. your core is so hot, already pulsing with stimulation.

you shut your eyes, tears running down your cheeks, eyes stinging from the mix of emotions.

your tears only made max thrust into you deeper, struggling to keep his pace slow.

you were aware of every inch of his cock inside you, filling you up perfectly. you dug your nails into his arms as you adjusted to him.

you open your eyes, looking up at him. his usually blue eyes were consumed with darkness.

his slow but deep thrusts envoked sensations you never knew you were capable of feeling, making you moan softly.

he was the ocean, and you were drowning happily in him. you let his waves wash over you.

once he felt like you were ready for more he pulled away from you and without saying a word he guided your legs gently upwards so that you knees were by your head.

you don't protest, only whine at the lack of contact.

he continues to thrust into you, his pace faster than before. it takes everything you have not to scream.

you pushed your legs further apart, spreading yourself for max even more so that he could thrust into you so deeply that the head of his cock hit your cervix.

your nails dug into his back.

the sounds coming from your lips could only be describes as pornographic. skin slapping against skin was all you could hear.

his name was the only word you knew and it tumbled from your lips over and over. your eyes rolling back with each of his ruthless thrusts.

he pounded into you so hard the bed shook. your nails now scraping down his arms as you clung to him.

a new type pleasure bloomed in your stomach, different than anything you'd ever experienced.

"i feel...max...i think i'm gonna—"

as max looked down at your face, all the thoughts that ran through his head were how ruined you looked, corrupted, your innocence gone and all because of him.

how many nights had he lay awake thinking about how you sounded? how you looked when you came? countless.

he thought this must be what heaven was like, his fantasy finally coming true and unfolding before him. as you came, he's taking in your features like it was the first time he'd ever truly seen you.

your walls pulsate and clench around his cock mercilessly, your scream-like moans filling the room.

"fuck y/n" his voice is rough, his breathe heavy.

your body shook beneath him as he kept thrusting into you. the overstimulation was close to becoming painful.

finally, with one last deep thrust, he came inside you. his hands held onto you so tightly there would surely be bruises.

you squirmed as the primal pleasure of him filling you up completely clouded your brain.

after a minute of stillness, of comfortable silence, he pulled out of you. but of course, he wasn't done with you just yet.

you feel him start slowly fucking his cum back into you with him fingers, causing you to writhe in pain from the complete overstimulation.

"max, no no please i cant it's too much," you beg, trying to push his hand away, eyes tearing up.

despite the urges he had to keep fingering you, to hear more of your pretty pleads, he can tell your fucked out. that your body is completely spent. and so, seeing the desperate tears in your eyes, he lets you push him away.

instead, he pulls you to him and kisses you. his lips feel hot, and his mouth tells you everything he's feeling. he holds you, his arms shielding you from the world. there's nothing to say, so you say nothing.

after a minute he sits up, kisses you one last time, and gets dressed.

"i'll be right back," he says before walling into the bathroom.

you sit up, pulling the covers around you, your legs trembling. your body feels exhausted.

you hear the bath begin running. at first, you're confused, shocked even. max didnt strike you as the kind of guy who ran baths for you. but after a moment, contentment settles over you.

you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, and try to stand. but your legs are still shaking, your entire body worn out.

"max!" you call, holding yourself up by the bed, legs already threatening to give out.

"yeah?" he says, walking back into the bedroom.

"i can't walk." you say, looking away, embarrassed by your awkward position.

max smiles, and gently helps you stand up, before scooping you into his arms and taking you to the bathroom.

maybe you could get used to this.

°~•☆•♡•☆•~°

a/n: AHHH i worked on this for so long i hope you enjoyed <33333 do you guys want a part 3? 😏😏

[amarauder]

peter johnson and the flying wine bottles ♆ percy jackson x reader

PAIRING; Percy Jackson x Neighbor! Reader

REQUEST; N/A

GODLY PARENT: Demeter

DATE; May 1st, 2024

WORD COUNT; 2440

WARNING; Illegal activities, aka buying alcohol illegally

A/N: IM BACK MOTHERFUCKERS. tehehe I know its been years oops. Not my best work but its here and thats all that matters to me at this point.

TRAILER; In which Percy Jackson meets his neighbor by accidentally almost killing himself and her multiple times.

REQUESTED BY: N/A

--

Percy locks up his flat, double then triple checks everything is secure. He knows it’s a little over the top to be this careful with his security system, especially since his apartment complex is in the heart of New Rome. But after everything he has been through it gives him a little peace of mind knowing he is coming back to a hopefully monster-free apartment.

Things have been weird for Percy since Annabeth left. He hasn’t exactly hit the devastated stage that everyone, including him thought would be his reaction. Instead, it’s been like he has been going through the motions. Nothing has been that bad or great, just kind of there.

Piper has concluded that he is in shock. He suspects that she’s right. It’s almost like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like Annabeth’s on a quest and he hasn’t heard from her for a few weeks and he’s a bit concerned for her well-being. But it’s been a little over two months now and Percy hasn’t felt any different.

 The only difference that Percy has felt is annoyance towards Piper. She won’t stop badgering him about meeting this girl. It’s constant, nonstop talking about how they would be perfect for each other and how Percy just needs to get back out there.

The only thing Percy needs is a break. A break from all the sympathetic stares, the hopeful girls, and gods forbid Piper. He knows that she has his best interest at heart. He appreciates it, he really does. It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside whenever his friends want to do something nice for him, but this just isn’t what Percy needs or wants right now.

What Percy needs is some time with his friends and maybe some free food which is exactly why he is heading over to Leo’s for a BBQ with the gang.

Stuffing his keys into his pocket, he heads over to the elevator then promptly almost dies tripping over air. It’s then that Percy realizes that he actually hadn’t fallen over air, he tripped over what looked like either a really long root or a vine? What the Hades? How did that get there?

He goes to pick it up when he realizes there’s a girl standing there waiting for the elevator. She’s holding a wine bottle, and what looks like the biggest plant Percy has ever seen. It would explain where the weird vine-root thing came from.

“Hey,” he starts, only to be interrupted by a scream and a face full of soil.

“Oh my God!” Screeches the plant. It takes Percy a second to realize that it is in fact the girl screaming and not the plant. To be fair, Percy has seen too many outer-worldly oddities in his life, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was the plant talking. “I am so sorry!”

Percy laughs and rubs dirt off his face, “Don’t be. I shouldn’t have scared you.” When he finally gets all the dirt off, Percy realizes she put the plant down. She’s pretty. Like really pretty actually. It takes Percy’s brain a second to catch up to all this new information.

She waves his apology away, “I scare way too easily. You should see me during October.”

“Halloween can get pretty spooky around here.” She tilts her head to the side in a way that remind him of a cute puppy. “Cause all the ghosts, ya know?”

Her eyes widen, “There are ghosts here?”

“Yeah, you haven’t seen them?” She shakes her head, “There’s one named Vector. He’s my favorite.”

“Why am I even surprised? My Mom is a Greek god. Of course there would be ghosts! What’s next? Flying monkeys?”

Percy’s lips quirked, “Don’t give them that idea.”

She laughed and Percy’s chest tightened. “What’s your name?”

“Percy. Yours?”

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before. Did you move in recently?” Percy knows he would have noticed or remembered her.

She puts her finger next to her lips. Percy is momentarily entranced. “I think around a month ago. I just started at New Rome University.” As she was chattering on about college Percy noticed the wine bottle slowly starting to slip out of her grip. Thanks to his demigod reflexes, Percy caught the bottle just in time.

“Oh!” She said in surprise. “Thanks! I didn’t even know it was falling.”

“No worries. I got it.” The elevator dings and they both head in. College? They were about a quarter into the fall semester. “What are you studying?”

“Agriculture.”

Percy’s eyebrows rise. That was not what he was expecting.  “Cool, my best friend from home is really into plants and stuff.”

Y/N’s lips quirked, “Plants and stuff?”

Percy smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. Thankfully, he was saved from answering by the elevator. Even though he was glad he didn’t have to answer to his stupidity, Percy still felt a pang in his chest. He really didn’t want to part from her but didn’t know how to tell her that without sounding creepy. She gives him good vibes. Percy’s always loved people like that.

“Where are you headed off too?” He eventually asks after sneaking what he hopes is casual glances at her as they exit the building.

She bounces on her toes a bit, “This girl I just met invited me to their friend’s place. I’m a bit nervous to be honest. I don’t know anyone besides her.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. I’ve loved talking to you and we’ve only just met.” Percy’s face went beet red. That was not how it was supposed to come out. “I-I mean you’ve been fun to talk to.”

They both laugh for a second, falling quiet quickly enough to make Percy feel awkward. He wishes he had more to say, if only to keep Y/N around him a little longer.

Y/N beams, “Thanks, Percy. I’m glad that I finally met someone in this apartment complex. Everyone here seems like busy bodies and never wants to talk.”

Percy shrugs. He’s noticed that too but never felt too bothered by it. Though, he isn’t the one who moved away from friends. “You get used to it. Here’s your wine bottle.” He hands her the wine bottle and Percy swears he gets déjà vu from a few minutes ago. Just as the wine bottle leaves his fingertips its soaring to the floor and crashes all over both of them. Fortunately, Percy isn’t hurt but he’s more concerned about Y/N to care.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Y/N puffs out she looks more shocked than anything. Percy feels like a giant idiot. First, he scares her, and Y/N’s plant almost goes flying everywhere. Then, he distracts her enough to almost drop the bottle. Now, after all of that mess he literally just fucks it all up. What are the odds?

It seems Y/N read his mind because she starts to giggle, “I think the Gods just don’t want me to bring wine today.”

As soon as they clean up the mess they head out. Percy had almost cut himself on the glass once or twice but he couldn’t complain much. He had been through worse things than a cut. Both of them had mumbled to each other the entire time about Why the Gods had decided the third time was the charm but decided against mentioning anything else as Y/N still had her plant to carry the rest of the way.

Percy only wishes that Mr. D was here to witness this. He could practically hear the “Peter Johnson!” from New Rome.

“Where are you headed too?” Y/N questions as they both come to a complete stop outside the building.

“To buy you a new wine bottle.” Percy says gesturing with his head towards town. He knows he’ll be late to Leo’s thing, but he can’t really bring himself to care. Percy also knows that Leo, out of all people, will be understanding especially if he mentions a girl.

“What?” Y/N says and grabs his arm, effectively stopping him. “No way. I am not allowing you to buy me a new wine bottle. I was the one who dropped it.”

Percy will admit that it was mostly her fault. It had been in her hands when the accident occurred. But Percy was first and foremost Sally Jackson’s son and if Sally taught him anything it was how to be polite to a pretty girl. “I was the one handing it to you.”

Y/N crosses her arms and shakes her head stubbornly. “No way, Percy! I am not allowing you to buy me one. I’ll buy my own and be on my way.”

“Fine but at least let me walk you to the wine store.” Y/N seems to consider this as her eyebrows scrunch a little less but she still doesn’t uncross her arms. She seems to agree nonverbally since she starts to walk with him.

“So, Do you know Mr.D?”

“Who?”

“Mr.D,” Percy confirms, “Dionysus? Camp Half-Blood’s camp director?”

“Oh,” Y/N murmurs, “I’ve heard of him from my friend, but I’ve never been to Camp Half-Blood.”

“Did you go to Camp Jupiter then?”

She shakes her head. Percy is officially confused. Where did she grow up then? How did she stay away from monsters? “I’m lost. Were you at home then?”

“For some reason, I never really got into trouble with monsters. Sure, weird stuff would happen to me throughout the years but my teachers would just put it off as overactive imagination. It wasn’t until my high school graduation that a monster came after me and my Dad finally brought me here. Next thing I know I’m enrolled at New Rome with my own apartment. What about you?” She questions innocently.

Percy huffs out a laugh. Oh, where to start. He settles on a simple, “I grew up at Camp Half-Blood.”

Y/N nods mutely. It gets a little awkward for a second and Percy wishes he paid a little more attention to his Mom’s rom-com movies. He’s never met a girl like this before. The only other girl he had ever been interested in was Annabeth and they had been friends forever before they even started dating. He was treading new waters.

Fortunately, they turned the corner and the wine store was a few steps away. “There it is,” Percy said and pointed. He was starting to feel nervous and he didn’t know why. Y/N went to open the door, but Percy beat her to it.

She turns around with a teasing smile on her face, “Thanks, Percy. So, want to tell me if your legal or not?”

It takes Percy a second to realize what she is talking about. Oh, buying alcohol. “Yeah, I’m 21. How old are you?”

“19.”

Oh. Oh. Percy shrugs, he’s certainly not one to shy away from illegal adventures. (A/N: DO NOT DRINK ILLEGALLY KIDDOS. NOT COOL AT ALL.) That would just be hypocritical.

Y/N heads over to the wine section and Percy follows after her like a lame, lost puppy. He needs to start acting a little cooler.

“White or red?” Percy asks.

“Champagne.” She answers immediately, with no hesitation. Alright, champagne it is. That’s a little too fancy for Percy’s taste. He’s more of a red Josh man but to each their own. He likes his six-dollar wine, thank you very much. Judgement is not tolerated within this household.

“Perfect” she says and grabs the champagne before making a beeline to the counter. Percy races after her digging for his wallet. He was not about to let her pay. He finally fishes it out of his pocket and waits for the man to check her out.

While Percy is waiting, he can’t help but admire her. She chatters away to the man as he looks over what Percy is assuming her fake ID. Making small talk in a way Percy never could.

The man gives it back to her and rings her up, “19 dollars and 75 cents, ma’am.”

Percy is quick to give his card to the dude. The cash register guy sighs and Y/N looks appalled. “No way. I am paying for it, Percy!”

He gently nudges her out of the away and hands the card over to him. He rolls his eyes, “I don’t care which one of you is going to sugar-mama the other. But whoever pays I have to see some ID.”

Percy digs in his pocket for his identification and hands it over. The man’s eyes widen, he looks at the picture then back to Percy. “You’re Percy Jack-“

“Yup,” Percy interrupts. He isn’t self-centered enough to think that Y/N has heard of him before but just in case, Percy wants to keep that information to himself for now.

The man’s demeanor instantly changes now that he knows who he is cashing out. “Have a good rest of your day!” He yells cheerily after him. When they head out, Percy can hear him whisper-yelling to his coworker about who he just checked out.

Y/N looks a little alarmed at the situation, especially probably the way Percy rushed her out. “What was that about?”

“Nothing” Percy waves her away. “That guy was just” He hesitates, “Weird.”

She makes a face, “Yeah, he really was. I can’t believe we did it though! I have never used my fake before.”

Percy takes a step back, “What? How did you get the wine from earlier then?”

“Oh, my Dad bought that for me.” Percy scoffs, Sally would be disappointed to find out that he was anywhere near alcohol. The thought fills him with a little guilt. She smiles and Percy’s chest hurts a little. This is where they say goodbye he realizes. “Well, it was really nice to meet you, Percy. I’m glad the Gods made our paths cross.”

He grins, “Me too, Y/N. I’ll see you around.”

“Bye, Percy.”

As Percy heads over to Leo’s place, he realizes how fast his heart is pounding and he can’t stop smiling. Somehow, he knows it’s not from their illegal adventure.

[sweetlyskz]

Emerald Gem||Chapter Five

Chapter one|Chapter two|Chapter three|Chapter four|Chapter five|Chapter six|Chapter seven|Chapter eight||Chapter nine|Chapter ten (finale!)|

Pairing: Hybrid!OT7 x fem!reader

Overview: Living away from society has its perks. All natural food from your thoroughly cultivated farm, no nosy neighbors, and peace and security with your animals. But sometimes you did get lonely, having no one the talk to but the pigs. However, when 7 extremely wanted hybrids stable upon your deserted farm, everything changes.

Genre: Hybrid Au, Strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut, fluff

Word count: 1.7k

Unedited

"How much longer do we have to keep walking?"

The group was extremely sick and exhausted, walking miles and miles along the forest. When Jimin had no more energy left, the youngest carried him on his back. The pack leader was fearful of the government coming to find them, so during the day they walked nonstop. And when the sun would finally rest, they would rest in the nearest cave or by the tallest tree.

"Until we make it to some water", Joon claimed, ears perked to listen for the closest stream. "I can hear it. We're almost there."

"We wouldn't have had to run, y'know..." Jimin was absentmindedly whispering his thoughts, delirious from lack of sleep.

"I miss her", Tae whined. "And I miss the food, and the comfy bed, and the little chickens..."

Namjoon ignored their complaints, keeping the same pace. He was just as sick and tired as they were, but his love for his pack kept him strong. Now matter how much they tried to convince him to stay, it didn't work. But they couldn't blame him- Namjoon has been burned before.

And he wasn't gonna let it happen again.

Justin didn't like taking the bus. The older kids always made fun of him. Plus, his school was only a couple of minutes away from home if he took the shortcut. So everyday afterschool he would hop the fence behind the school and take left and right turns through the alleyways to get home.

Until one day where he met a little wolf hybrid. Justin had stumbled upon the little guy next to a dumpster in the alley. He was frail and weak looking. His short was torn, his pants were jagged, and the soles of his feet were black.

"Hey little guy", Justin whispered, slowly walking up to the wolf as to not startle him. However it did quite the opposite.

"Please!" He screamed. "I'll go but please don't hurt me!"

With that, Justin backed away. "I'm not gonna hurt you- promise!" The hybrid stood on his feet with haste, getting ready to make a fast exit.

But Justin didn't wanna let him go.

"Are you lost? Do you need some help?" That's when he realized Justin wasn't coming for him- he probably didn't even know who he was.

"N-no. Im f-fine", he whispered, making his way to the kind human who offered to help him. "Just please don't tell anyone I'm here-please." He got down on his knees and pleaded.

"I won't, I swear. But, you can't stay here. Whoever you're hiding from will find you as easily as I did."

The hybrid thought for a second, pondering over his next moves. He's probably been on the run his whole life. His street smarts are probably beyond compare. At least, that's what Justin thought.

"I have nowhere to go..." He whispered. "My family... they're dead. They're all dead- and I'm alone."

It was like looking in a mirror. Justin had found someone just like him. Parentless, scared, afraid. He had a feeling he could help. "You can come stay with me for a while", he offered.

And just like that- he found himself stepping into Justins small apartment. It was cramped, but it's all Justin could afford so he made it work. They lived together for month before Justin finally asked what his name was.

"Namjoon", he replied. "My name is Kim Namjoon, and I'm wanted for murder."

***

Some of the food in your fridge had spoiled. Just to prevent from wasting you walked miles away to the nearest neighbor and gave them all of your leftovers. It been a couple weeks since the guys had left, and you were feeling lost-empty. You knew who they were. You knew what people called him. You knew they were wanted by the government, but it didn't stop you from taking them in.

And even though they hadn't stayed long, it was hard to imagine what life was like without them- especially when you had already imagined a life with them.

When it was time to rest your head, you would walk by their rooms and whisper goodnight. But even though no one was there, the ghost of them always replied back, "goodnight, sweet dreams."

Every now and then you swear you hear laughing downstairs, the sound of Hoseok rolling around in the grassy field, or even the sound of Taehyung flipping the page of a good book. Every now and then, while making dinner, you feel a presence creep up behind you asking "Can I just have one bite? How will I know if it's good if I don't try it?" Jungkook loved to sneak bits of supper before it was ready.

The feeling made you queasy, and it brought tears to your eyes. It made you anxious, so you watched the new every night in hopes that they hadn't been caught. Because, even though they didn't want to stay with you, you sure as hell weren't going to let the researchers have them.

You had already made that mistake once before.

Your birthday party was absolutely amazing! Your friends were there, all of your family came. Even the gifts were memorable. However, something was missing. Your nine year old self couldn't put your finger on it, but something seemed off about that day. It felt as though you were at someone else's birthday party, like the party wasn't for you.

If wasn't until you got older that you realized that it was true- it wasn't technically your birthday party. It was your birthday- that part it true. However, the party was your father's. It was your father's friends, it was their children. They were never your friends. No one would even notice if you weren't there.

So you left.

By your house was a lake, a peaceful lake where all you could hear was the wind blowing through the trees. That's where you snuck off to that night. That's where you met Mina. She was a wolf- the most beautiful wolf you might ever have seen (the only wolf at that time). Her fur was pure white with specks of gray, and her eyes shimmered in the moonlight. One might've been afraid of her, but you certainly were not. She could tell.

"You come here often, Don't you?" The wolf could speak. For some reason, that didn't scare you either. "From the trees, I notice you come hear to wipe your tears. What's bothering you?"

"I'm alone", you whispered, audibly enough for her to hear. "I don't think I'm supposed to exist. All the signs point against it." You laid in the grass, picking piece to fiddle with. Telling your secrets to a total stranger wasn't the best option. But for you, it was the only option.

"Don't speak such words", she scolded. "Close your eyes. I wanna show you a secret."

You obeyed, shutting your eyes as tight as you could. Out of nowhere, great winds blew and the ground shook.

"Now, open."

She was gone. She vanished, right in front of you. The wolf had vanished, and what replaced it was even more beautiful. Her hair was silver. Her eyes were green. She clothed her self in leaves- fitted like a dress.

"Happy birthday, pup", she smiled. Your eyes began to shed tears. She was the first person to wish you happy birthday- Not even your parents did so.

"T-thank you", you sniffled. "I'm Y/n." She patted your head, the same way your mother once did. It was comforting. Here she was, a total stranger, and she's given you more attention than your mother has in a long time. It entranced you, to the point of laying your head on her

"I know", She sighed. "The nights not going so well, is it?"

You nodded. "When does it ever? I'm nine and feel like I'm an adult- so much I haven't done with so much responsibility."

Daciana was her name, a quite beautiful name. You told her all your fears and she held you close. She comforted you when no one else would.

You will never forgive yourself for what happened to her...

***

The cave was cold, almost icy. Jin wanted to light a fire but Joon was strongly against it. "That'll make us an easy target", he scolded.

Jimin laid flat on his back, having no neck or back support. He thought of you. What are you doing right now? What may you be wearing? He dreamed of the dinner you might be cooking.

Does she even care that we're gone?

Jungkook was trying his best to keep Hobi's fever down, but it continued to rise. Taehyung was in excruciating pain. Yoongi was absolutely delirious and Joon could hardly breathe, choosing the solid ground as the best place to rest.

"Joon, we can't go on like this", Jin begged. It hurt him to see his pack in so much pain. It hurt even more to know the cause of it was his pack alpha.

He heaved, trying to get back on his two feet with no avail. "What else can we do? The minute we think we're safe, we'll will be taken. You know this! Where can we possibly go?"

"Back home", Jimin mumbled, using the last bits of his energy. "I wanna go back home, to Y/n."

"Me too", Kook whispered just audible enough to hear. The rest of the pack agreed, sharing their sentiments- everyone except Namjoon. While everyone whined and groaned, he laughed exasperatedly.

"Are you guys serious? She would've turned us over to the authors the minute she found out who we really are! How many times do I have to tell you this? You cannot trust humans."

Jin was fed up. He was sick, exhausted, and lonely. And he was done following orders.

"What do you think you're doing?" The pack watched Jin as he put Jimin on his back, heading towards the entrance of the cave.

"We're going home, Joon..." Jimin struggled to keep his eyes open, but a smile was plastered on his face. It was hard to miss his excitement, even if it was a little hard for him to express. "Anyone who wants to come can come, but I'm tired of living in fear."

He continued, pointing towards his alpha. "Let me know when you're done too. You know where to find us."

And with that, the six pack member left the dark and empty cave, leaving Namjoon alone with his thoughts.

What am I gonna do now? He thought.

-

-

Taglist!

@yoongicatcat @wifflepuff1344 @unwillingly-oblivious @shycreationdreamland @emer-syn @rinkud @amimami1991 @singukieee @nikkiordonez12 @xicanacorpse @cestlabellemort @whipwhoops @spider-thot0115 @ddaeng-angmoh @silscintilla @readerofallthingss @welcometomyworld13 @danielle143 @kookiesbunny @yoongiigolden @woozixo @anaspectoflife @blackrockshooter780 @talyaaas-blog @eashmo @jaiele @kaceypdf @reallysparklychaos @lizzymizzy-blogg @rainfprest @shycreationdreamland @belikejk

Permanent Taglist!

@famousdelusionobservation @marblemoonstones @stupendousliteraturewritingoaf @fearnotfimmie @v-love @tired7o7 @jewishmommy @ghostlyworld

[angelicdanvers]

BREATHE DEEPER | four.

a charlie bushnell x fem!reader social media fic.

y/n

liked by iamcharliebushnell, levizmiller, dior.n.goodjohn, and others

y/n — australia’s my new fav country

tagged | levizmiller

levizmiller i’m challenging you to another round of pool tonight ↳ y/n bet

iamcharliebushnell when’d you go to australia? 😭 ↳ y/n when u didn’t show up for acai bowls >:( ↳ iamcharliebushnell im sowwy ↳ y/n DONT YOU DARE ↳ iamcharliebushnell okok sorry but thought you'd be in london ↳ y/n soon, yeah :')

levizmiller y/n im gonna poke you ↳ y/n okayy hi ↳ levizmiller let’s get boba ↳ y/n YES

dior.n.goodjohn I MISS U COME BACK TO ME ↳ y/n once my australian chronicles are over i promise i will <3 ↳ dior.n.goodjohn WOOOO

walker.scobell youre pretty! ↳ y/n thanks lil dude!

i.am.andrewalvarez AUSSIEEE ↳ y/n THE SWEET ESCAPE FR

aryansimhadri DID YOU SEE KANGAROOS ↳ y/n NO NOT YET THOUGH I HOPE I DO

dailymail Y/n and Levi? ;)

user omg bf reveal happening??

user2 ive never held my breath this much

“GALILEO’S GALS” — 5 notifications!

chanel’s enemy Y/N

lee lee Y/N

dr dre why am i in this gc

chanel’s enemy because u are

lee lee we’re getting off topic Y/NNN CMERE

↳ hiiiii?

chanel’s enemy HIIII HRU ILY

↳ ILY TOO BAE IM GOOD WBU

chanel’s enemy WE GOOD WE HAVE SOME ?’s THO

↳ oh?

lee lee ARE YOU AND LEVI DATING

dr dre OHH THIS MAKES SENSE YEAH ARE YOU??

↳ nooooo

chanel’s enemy that’s a very interesting no

↳ we’re not but idk

chanel’s enemy what

lee lee girl wdym

↳ we’re not dating but i think he likes me? idk

dr dre do you like him back though???

↳ eh he’s very sweet but i’ve always seen him as a best friend, i don’t think we could be more

lee lee do you want to be more??

↳ i mean, i’d give him a chance if he asked? but it’s not anything i’m particularly into or wanting

chanel’s enemy okay that helps

↳ uhhh why

dr dre well if my sleepy ass remembers correctly, everyone and their mother are wondering if you’re dating

↳ nah that aint possible

lee lee it is, stupid dailymail picked up on it first 💀

↳ my manager’s asleep, no wonder she hasn’t updated me lol oh well idgaf they can think what they want

chanel’s enemy but even walker and charlie are 😭

↳ they’re gonna forget it in t-minus four secs it’s fine

dr dre whatever you say, ma’am but are you sure that ‘cryptic’ caption won’t cause any issues??

↳ uhh andrew you’re scaring me

dr dre what if someone likes you? like like-likes you and knows you and gets hella jealous or doubtful? and not saying charlie does but he was raving about how he might finally get to hang out with you, ONE ON ONE. what if he thinks he can't because he thinks you two are dating?

↳ bro first off ik you don’t like me, neither does aryan and i know its DEFINITELY not walker

lee lee girl he had a celeb crush on you a few years ago dont tell him i told u that

chanel’s enemy LMFAOOOO but no andrew has a point how come you didn’t mention charlie? 🤨

dr dre yeah i was just aboutta say 🤨 especially after my little analysis?

↳ SECONDLY, guys, charlie doesn’t. not one bit and that’s obvious, like he isn’t even in considerations. i understand what he may feel but he has nothing to worry about. he knows i won't ditch him or anything lol (right?) but if anything the only person that’d be a little confused or whatnot is william

chanel’s enemy WHAT?? AS IN WILLIAM FRANKLYN MILLER??

lee lee huh 😃

↳ we dated for a month back when we were 15 or so and realized we were way better off as friends

lee lee why ?

↳ idk i think i was just jealous of lily 😭 but anyways we’ve been just friends since and i’m completely happy with that. i don't see him romantically anymore, yeah he’s hot but like nah. but yeah if he was confused, it's probably because i was best friends with levi when we dated too and might question if he was the cause of our split?? AGAIN THATS IF HE OVERTHINKS IT

dr dre i feel like i’m reading an autobiographical analysis you definitely are fond towards “millers”

↳ ur welcome <333 and NO i am not

chanel’s enemy okok so we got several people who’d be jealous

↳ WHAT WDYM SEVERAL I ONLY LISTED ONE

lee lee ain’t no way you’re ignoring charlie

↳ DUDES I REALLY DONT THINK HE LIKES ME

dr dre but there could be a possibility? just don’t rule him out

↳ bro he doesn't like me 😭 but yeah trust me everything’s gonna be okay again i dont like anyone and no one likes me, and we'll make sure it's obvious i'm single in case anyone does though that may take a while... ANYWAYS

lee lee suuuuure you should hang out with charlie btw

↳ idk why but im scared to 😭

lee lee but you need to he misses you a lot yk

↳ doesn’t change the fact that im SCARED

lee lee WHY WOULD YOU BE SCARED ITS JUST CHARLIE

↳ IDK I JUST DONT WANNA SEEM STUPID OR UNATTRACTIVE AND SHIT

lee lee HE FLIRTS WITH YOU ALL THE TIME AND MESSES UP JUST AS MUCH, YOURE NOT THE EMBARRASSING ONE HERE

↳ DUDE I KNOW I CAN BE AND I DONT WANNA DRIVE HIM AWAY

dr dre sure you and levi hang out and are sweet and shit but BRO the teeth rotting sugar is you and charlie in your damn COMMENTS

↳ ITS NOT THAT BAD, IS IT?? 😭 GOD I HOPE CHARLIE DOESNT THINK OF ME ANY DIFFERENTLY

chanel’s enemy i think u like charlie, miss girl

↳ NO

dr dre nah, they’d be cute together, even charlie said so himself

chanel’s enemy you dumbass

dr dre uhhh ANYWAYS said too much im gonna sleep again love youse

lee lee BRO yeah night babes <3

chanel’s enemy LOVE U BAE GN

↳ what the duck STUPID AUTOCORRECT WHAT THE FUCK AINT NO WAY YALL JUST DIPPED fine ily guys too </3 BUT DONT THINK IM LETTING THAT GO EASILY ugh what do you guys mean 😭 aint no way thats true OKOK YK WHAT BYE!! FOR REAL THIS TIME

— taglist.

@shokocoded @istillremberthefirstfallofsnow @surftrips @svtsimp22 @gcidrvsh @idontevencare1223 @thames-fig @captainshischier @reggieslifeboat @multifandom-loser @wheelerslover @mermaid-mqtel @randomnpc456 @kaithoughs @isab3lita @mariposa555 @sunshinessky @myr-cheri @thedeadlynights @ella33 @c1nn4mng1rl @poppysrin @breadbrobin @lucy-the-ant @jules-loves-lukecastellan @taloulalila @tom-pls-fuck-me @mia-luvs @iknowyoureabigfan @rinisfruity14 @chasebeth @auttumnsayshi @prettygirlformula @alwayswndr @balletfilmss @kestisvrse @1forthemoney2forthekish @eissaaaa @emelia07 @toffytaste @soulaires @bearwon @happy-mushrooms @simrah1012 @blimp-blimp @obxstiles @yuminako @hopexcroc @mackycat11 @knowugetdejavu @0puddleofgender0

thank you so much for all your love and support, it really means the world to me. y/n's beginning to find out certain things, wonder where things will go from here 🤔

as always, i will continue updating the taglist :)

i love you and am so proud of you, stay safe and drink water <3

[junipers-archive]

Power-Outage

Word Count: 1.2k

Includes: fluff, fluff, fluff spencer x reader when a power-outage occurs and spencer being spencer and being adorably the perfect boyfriend

Dark. It is dark and you're alone and its honestly embarrassing how quickly you pick up your phone to call your boyfriend. I mean...who's still scared of the dark? What're you 5?

It's two in the morning and you shouldn't be calling, really. You've only been dating for a few weeks, but he's Spencer, he's technically been your best friend for 4 years, 3 months, 2 days. and...about 18 hours, but who's counting? You convince yourself you just need to hear his voice, his sweet, safe, angelic-

"H-hello?"his voice breaks from that of someone just woken up at an ungodly hour by his co-dependent girlfriend who so happened to have accidentally hit the call button while she was second-guessing herself.

Maybe he'll hang up? Maybe you can convince him you butt-called him in the middle of the night tomorrow at work? Or maybe-

"Y/n baby I'm really gonna need you to respond before i drive over there." he sounds calm, not at all agitated, not at all like someone woken up at 2 in the morning, he sounds...like Spencer

"Hi..." You exhale into the mic with relief. You should say something, really say something, apologize, yes that's what you'll do "I'm sorry I shouldn't have called, god I'm so idiotic...I just-well the power just went out and its 2 in the morning and I really should get some sleep but-"

You're cut off by the jingling of keys on the other line.

"Spence you still there?"

"I'm on my way." Was that a car door?

"On your wayy..." It takes you second, or it takes your un-caffienated and sleep deprived brain a second to realize he means he's coming over to your house. Your home. Where you live.

And yes you're bestfriends with him and you've had sleepovers before but that was when you were ready. That was when you had cleaned.

"No! Spencer No! That is completely unessecary! I'm fine! I just wanted someone to talk to and I thought-"

The engine of his car starts. You can hear him trying to repress the laugh that graces your ears every time he knows something you're trying to hide from his genius mind.

"I'm already pulling out of the drive-way, forget about it. Plus I know you're afraid of dark."

Maybe he'll turn around if you just- "Spencer. I am not afraid of the dark. That is childish and obsurd and I mean im not a little kid anymore! You can just go home, go to bed and forget this ever happened"

There's a silence on the other end, besides the hum of the car, absolute silence.

Until, "Do you still have the candle I got your for Christmas?"

Of course. Of course Dr. Spencer freakin Reid wouldn't believe you. I mean he knows you better than anyone. What were you thinking?

"Yea spence. Yea I have the candle"

He hums in response and you can practically hear him grinning on the other end.

You admit defeat.

"Can you at least bring over some marshmallows? I'm all out from our last movie night." You would honestly rather have him over as soon as possible if it weren't for your hideous room and the pile of "i'll get to it" in the living room haunting your mind. This will at least buy you time.

But again he's dr. reid. "I've already got some from my stash, jumbo and small and snowmen shaped. And of course hot chocolate!"

He's perfect. He's everything and more you could've asked for.

And yet. ANd yet. At this very moment you'd like to strangle him. And not that impersonal type of cowardly strangle like really just-

"Don't be embarrassed baby. I've already seen your room at its worst. I'll be there in ten, turn on the candle and read your books for now."

You hear him knock on the door a few minutes later, as to not disturb the neighbors. Because of course, he's Spencer and would've thought about that too.

You run with the only flashlight you have to the front door, and you're greeted by a ruffled, grinning and ever-charming Spencer with his satchel stuffed with god knows what and wearing his periodic table of elements pjs.

You mirror his grin almost immediately, albeit sheepishly and look down to hide your own embarrassment...only to find him wearing the pink bunny slippers he'd stolen from your house only a few days ago.

With that all or any ego-preservation skills were out the window. He was here already...right?

You let him in, still staring down at your shoes as he leads you two straight for the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets to find the ingredients and kitchenware as if he'd lived there his whole life.

You take a seat at the kitchen's island stool, and watch him work.

This should be embarrassing. I mean it is. It is!

That is, until he hands you a steaming cup of hot chocolate with little snowman marshmallows dissolving on top and smiling like he hasn't just driven 8 miles with these ingredients to make you happy because you called him.

You called him at 2 in the morning.

And with that the unease floods back. And you're hiding your face in your hands and mumbling something incoherent.

This is when he finally speaks. "So...you wanna build a fort?"

You rub your eyes and look up at him. "i-i'm sorry?"

"We should build a fort." He's assertive in this, something at another time you would've found very hot, but at this moment it concerns you. Because to any other person what you've just done would be unacceptable.

"You...want to...build a fort?"

"I find it helps, I mean...at least when I was younger my mom and dad, they used to help me build forts when the power went out. To distract me if anything. It was kind of the only time I remember them getting along."He chuckles and looks down bashfully.

And now all you can think of is building a fort with the beautiful boy in front of you.

"Yea, yea i'd really love it if we built a fort."

And you do, you build a fort with what now you deem as you're future husband. Lighting the other candle he brought you on the counter that fills the air with your favorite scent and finding battery power camping lamps in your closet to light up the room.

He tells you stories about the kinds of forts he used to build and to the best of both your abilities you try to recreate his favorite.

By around 5:30 in the morning the sun is rising and you're both past out in the center of the monstrosity you two created while high on a sugar rush provided by the hot chocolate and one two many marshmallow snowmen consumed.

But you'll remember this for the rest of your life you think. You'll remember Spencer for the rest of your life. Because no one, no one would understand how to make you forget your biggest fear like he did.

While surrounded by darkness all you could see was him.

He was your light.

He was your light, and for as long as he'd have you, you'd be his too.

[lazycats-stuff]

Im so sorry ,in advance, its okey to ignore the request Batfam x child here this scenario:

Batfam where on a mission catching some criminals, like usual but then hearing crying noise on the dark alleyways, when Batman or anyone in the batfamily check to see,

When they looked, they saw a crying child with little bit blood on their face , they asked “why are they crying?are you hurt?” or “ are you okey? What happened?”

The child pointed at darkest corners of the alley. they looked where the child was pointing at, they saw two of the parents died

in the same manner like Batman backstory , when the child look up at them still crying , they lift their arms and said “ c-can I-i *sob*have a-a hug?*sob* p-please”

How would the batfamily react? Or what to do to calm the child reader

Oh my poor reader... Bruce would jump in immediately.

Summary: Bruce sees a child in a similar situation like he did many years ago.

Warnings: murder, corpses, Bruce sees himself in (Y/N), protective batboys.

This is an important mission. They have been preparing for this mission for months on end. Endless intel, interrogations, surveilling, scouting the buildings, research on the important members... The entire family was on the verge of killing someone.

Even Bruce was ready to commit murder, despite the strong moral code and despite his self control. They were stretched thin and the moral of the team was down. Bruce didn't think it could ever get so low.

This a breaking low. But none the less, they have persevered and through some teamwork, they got the intel that they needed. That's why they were on the roof top, waiting for a perfect moment to strike. Bruce was ready.

Everyone was tense and waiting in the darkness of the roof top, watching and waiting. Bruce was perched over the edge, ready to go at the moment's notice.

He looked back when he heard gunshots. The others were ready to jump, but Bruce stopped them. It felt off. Bruce looked down and saw it was their target. And a small shadow running. Bruce jumped, knocking the criminal out.

The others spread out, going to the building to check the location out. According to the intel they gathered, the drugs they had been looking for should be here.

Bruce moved into the dark alley listening for any sounds. What he didn't expect to hear was crying. And it didn't sound like it's an adult crying. It sounded like a child crying.

And he was proven right when he saw a child, shaking and sobbing. Bruce could see some blood on his face.

" Hey, are you okay? " Bruce asked softly, trying to see if the child was hurt. The child pointed at the dark corner and Bruce was hesitant at first. He thought that he was going to stop breathing when he saw the dead parents.

They were shot in the chest, one each. It felt all too familiar. Bruce's breath hitched for a moment. This was just like him, all those years ago. He closed his eyes and he calmed down. There was a child that needed him.

He walked back and the child cried harder. He put his hands, flexing his little finger. " Please, I- I need a h-hug, I-I'm scared... "

Bruce picked him out without a word, putting the child's head in the crook of his neck, just to make sure he didn't see anything. He gently patted his back.

" What's your name? " Batman asked, walking towards his sons.

" (Y/N). " The child mumbled, clutching onto Bruce tightly.

Everyone stopped in their tracks when they saw Bruce holding a child. Everyone wanted to ask questions, but they saw that it wasn't the time. They saw that child was under a lot of stress and Bruce softly shook his head.

It was a clear sign of not now. Everyone understood what it meant and they understood that something happened. But it seemed like (Y/N) wasn't hurt.

At least one good thing tonight. If you exclude the drugs and the drug ring they brought down.

" We called Gordon, he is on his way. " Dick said softly, walking up to the child. (Y/N) was still crying, but not as hard as before. He was crying quietly.

Bruce was torn. Does he adopt him? Does he put him at a foster home? What does he do?

One thing was for sure. There wouldn't be any help in the foster home. Or even the orphanage. Wherever he went tonight.

The others knew that sooner or later, Bruce was going to adopt him. Emphasis on the sooner. Maybe even tonight.

[buckyarchives]

would you like to dance | a. warlock

summary: after the defeat of the high evolutionary, everyone is dancing and celebration. except him.

small blurb, cute-meets, fluff, himbo adam and david bowie, duh. somewhat GOTG3 spoliers

a/n; adam warlock and will poulter have utterly bewitched me. and blonde, beefy himbos will always be my weakness. also, im so sorry for literally disappearing more months, im working on getting my inspiration back along with, IVE BEEN SO BUSYY. thank you, enjoy reading.

You'd never miss a chance to dance, especially now in the midst of a celebration. Everyone, new and old, the people were dancing and it couldn't have been any better. Especially to Florence + the machines. It was pure euphoria, even Nebula was singing her robotic arms and hips. Except him. 

Golden skin and hair soaked damp from dirt and sweat, he was shaking a little and even looked scared, or better described as confused. You weren't oblivious, you recognized him from the attack. Having not anticipated one before or after the guardians left Knowhere in Cosmo, Kraglin and your defense; he took quite a damage to your planet. 

Yet, he sat there shivering and looking so small despite the power inside of him. Everyone around you held peace and redemption high on their moral compass, you could only assume the guardians had choses to give the beautiful man a second chance. He still looked so melancholy as he gazed into the cheering crowd.

Your hips slowly stopped swaying and you let go the new kid's hands as they were just swinging in delight, excusing yourself as you made your way to him. Slow footsteps and you weaved through the crowd, the god-like man hadn't noticed your presence yet. To your surprise, only noticing when he slightly flinched as you spoke up with a small wave.

“Hey,” your voice came out soft and gentle. You noticed the gears turning in his head as he looked you up and down, almost as if he was assessing threats. You only sat a foot from him on the step while you waited for his response. The gentle nature and patience from you confused him, almost halting his thought process as he struggled to even greet you.

“S-salutations.'' He didn't mean to stutter, but a new feeling of embarrassment (one feeling he’d yet to feel until now, Adam decided he wasn't too fond of it) came over him as the syllables left his mouth. “I’m adam.”

You smiled softly and introduced yourself, an awkward beat fell over you two before he pointed up to the speakers. “What is this?”

“What is what?” your eyebrows furrowed as you leaned in closer to the man, not noticing how bright his golden eyes were.

“The sound, the melody, everyone is cheering and moving too.” he sounded so unsure of everything as he spoke, an aggressive confusion. It was almost adorable seeing a grown man so lost. But you had to grow accustomed to finding beings unknowing of the most basic things to you, the universe was big.

You laughed and Adam found himself smiling at the sound leaving your lips, “its music, Adam. People dance to music, Quill was a fan of this band, Florence and the machines are a popular band from earth.”

Adam was still slightly confused on the nature of what a band was and what machine made this melody but he nodded. He looked back at you and noticed the way your chest heaved slightly from dancing, grime on your face and arms from helping the kids and animals back onto knowhere, yet Adam felt an overwhelming feeling he would yet put a name too throughout his entire body. It made him feel jumpy and nervous, but also warm and relaxed at the same time. Emotions were quite confusing.

Then you began to sway, how could you not as the speakers began to blare David Bowie, probably your favorite earth artist. A smile graced your lips and, of course, Adam noticed. You were dancing, and it was beautiful. 

Then, you finally turned to him, a light in your eyes as you offered him; “would you like to dance?”

Adam didn't know how to dance, he wasn't sure of much. Your hands were out and open for him, Adam tried to think about it but he was unsure of what to even think. Reluctantly and almost scared, he took your hands and the warmth enveloped him. You tugged him quite harshly to his feet, the blanket slipping from his shoulder as he stood awkwardly in front of you and around the crowds of people. Little children and even smaller animals scurrying around him, but he only saw you as you started to sway and bob your head. Adam felt an uncontrollable tug at his lips take over.

You looked up at him, he stood bulky and stiff in front of you, a stark contrast to everyone around. Adams eye scanned the area, a self conscious look in his bright eyes before looking at you, “i don't know how to dance.”

“Just let your body move to the music! However you want to!” you spoke over the music, jumping on the balls of your feet and spinning the sound of Starman by David Bowie. 

Adam had never had the privilege to do ‘however he wanted’ so a part of him felt even more stunned. You noticed the hesitancy in his body and took his hands and started to swing, Adam still struggled to let go and lose the tense and stiff feeling in his body. “Come on, Adam!”

“Okay, okay!” he laughed, trying to move his shoulders and head similar to yours, not realizing the beaming smile on his face as the two of you danced. As he loosened his movements and you both moved much more fluidly, you jumped and swung your hips, Adam looked a little ridiculous as he moved his arms through the air but he felt free. Hand in hand you swayed around, Adam would spin you (with some guidance, obviously) and each of you would fill with laughter.

Adam was still quite underdeveloped in the material world, he didn't know a lot and many things were still so confusing. He had a lot of time to figure out what everything meant in this vast world, what every emotion felt like and how he should react. What Adam likes and dislikes, who he likes and dislikes.

Right now, as he music blasted around him along with smiles and cheers for the victory of defeating the high evolutionary. Adam moving in a more free way he's ever felt with you, smiling and so close to him it made his skin feel on fire. Adam decides he likes David Bowie, and dancing. Dislikes the feeling of hurting people and being ordered around. Really likes seeing you smile, and thinking about how he could make it happen more, and more.

[crushedsweets]

Do you have any headcanons of Lyra and Toby’s relationship?

this has been in my inbox for like over a week by now because this is a big task in my head. i will focus more on the family itself, but obviously the siblings r there.

ROGERS FAMILY HCS UNDER THE CUT... tw for abuse and addiction, of course

ok. WE'RE GETTING PERSONAL HERE. im the eldest daughter of 3 so the way in which i project into older siblings is insane. ive also had an addict father(no where near like frank though let me clarify) so in general . . the story.. makes me feel very...... basically their relationship is very personal to me.

lyra is about 2-3 years older than toby.

frank's dad was in the vietnam war, his grandparents were in wwii, his grandparents in wwi, etc. so he went into military service right after marrying connie. for a long while, he was SUPER military strict. those kids were up, made their bed, and down for chores by 6am everyday. he made them do military time rather than civilian time. he was incredibly traditional, expected a perfectly clean household, a polite soft daughter, a strong bold son, perfect wife. he wanted the 1950s nuclear family model. so toby and lyra grew up in a very clean, strict, traditional household.

in my au, frank wasnt outright abusive until the kids were around 8-11. it was after he developed his addictions and lost his job. the kids really didnt understand what was changing at first, and legitimately were like 'omg dad isnt making us wake up at 5am everyday..... this is so cool'.

theyd start having sleepovers in eachothers room, slacking a bit on chores, going to sleep late, sleeping in. toby didnt develop his tourettes until he was around 7, so lyra and toby would walk home from their elementary school together. sometimes, theyd walk another friend home first, stop at convenience stores to get candy, pet a cat, etc. frank didnt say a thing for the first few months, just drunken grumbles along connies worried 'WHERE HAVE U BEEN'. if they weren't walking around the area, they were in the backyard playing soccer.

eventually the abuse began, and all of those little freedoms were quickly stripped from the kids.

toby developing tourrettes around this time was a painful coincidence, because not only did he experience abuse at home, but awful bullying at school. he was promptly pulled out after completing 3rd grade. he was only 8.

lyra would practically run home from school everyday, as fast as a 12 year old girl with a backpack could manage, just because she spent all 7 hours in school worrying about toby at home. connie had to start working to pay bills, so..

when toby was around 11 and lyra was around 13, toby started kinda just. being more distant. he was kind of a dick to lyra for a period of time, half because of everything he was going through, half because puberty is rough. his room started getting messy, lyra had to start picking up chores he was slacking on , etc. lyra isnt perfect and began to resent toby for this, and eventually, the two were kinda at eachothers throats for like 6 months. which isnt a lot, but for kids, its an eternity.

when franks abuse evolved from ''just'' verbal abuse, to shoves, to slaps, to full on beatings, toby started egging frank on. just to get him off of lyra and connie. obviously he couldnt feel it, and while it sure took a fucking mental toll, it was so much easier to just wait it out rather than listen to the girls cry.

lyra didnt even realize toby was doing this for a while, she just thought it was all part of him going through his little hormonal asshole phase, until one day frank made a fucked up comment about 'youre lucky that boy is always causing trouble. was supposed to be you'. then it kinda clicked and she very quickly tried to fix their relationship back to what it was.

frank eventually scared connie so badly that there'd be periods of time where she'd take the kids in the middle of the night, and run off to either her parents place, or even a random hotel in another city. she'd use cash, force the kids to keep their phones at home, leave literally everything behind and often make the kids pick out new toothbrushes at a random walmart. etc. it would only last a few days each time, and lyra fought so hard to stay strong while her mom cried and toby closed himself off.

she'd try to get toby to come to the hotel pools with her, try to get him to watch tv with her, try to get him to just fucking talk to her. he was often catatonic during these little runaways, once the confusion adrenaline and fear wore off

it wasnt until they went around a month without seeing their father, and frank had some weird fucking. 'those are MY kids too' thing and went to connie's parents house while all the adults were out, and forced the kids back home. this was the first time lyra was full on sobbing and begging and pleading in years. that was what shifted something in toby, too.

now tobys 13, lyras 15, and theyre on better footing. theyre starting to understand eachother. tobys back on keeping up with chores, knowing that either him lyra or connie was going to get beat if they were missed. sometimes he'd just silently come into lyras room and lay down and watch tv with her. they'd talk about books, about school, their trust was built right back up and toby ended up being the first to know about lyras school drama, gossip, boys, etc.

toby wasn't really socialized properly, since he's been homeschooled for 6 years by now. all the time, he'd hear lyras stories, and wish he could go to school. his mom would be horrified anytime toby asked, because all she could remember was her sweet boy coming home and crying into her arms after a day of being mocked and pushed around by peers.

so he began to live through lyra, in a sense ? he almost became a diary for lyra, and he kinda loved it. she was like a sitcom to him.

frank wasnt a good father by any means during this period, he was still awful, but he wasn't constantly looking for trouble. the kids kept to themselves, connie did everything she was expected to, he didnt give a shit about their grades or social lives. he couldn't even recgonize when lyra was coming home late.

lyra got her license the second she turned 16. the house had two cars, and its not like frank was ever going anywhere, so she was always going everywhere. she adored the freedom, and took toby wherever he'd let her. he only really left the house if he was going grocery shopping with his mom or something, so it was kinda weird now that he was just. going to malls. going to restaurants. going to parks. just Hanging Out. every now and again he'd stick around when Lyra was with her friends, but he didn't like them so it was rare.

sometimes theyd just drive together for a long time. at night, she was the one to take him to every hospital visit, she even got him to volunteer at a pet shelter she worked at for a bit. 3 years and they become so close again, and lyra is tobys best friend. she's his entire world because who else does he have ? he loves his mom, but she's married to the man he hates more than anything

toby was 16 and lyra was 18 when frank strangled toby till he passed out. thats finally when connie kicked frank out, forcing frank to go live on his moms couch. lyra was mortified and started spending an absurd amount of time with toby. she took online community college courses just so she could spend even more time with toby, and it didnt hurt to do so since frank wasnt there anymore. things were getting better for the family, frank was gone, lyra was in college, connie was working, toby was volunteering at shelters and even had a few acquaintances he'd talk to now and again.

lyra picked toby up from the shelter he volunteered at when the accident happened.

lyra and connie had matching silver necklaces with a circle pendant that had their initials. toby didnt cuz frank would get pissed if toby tried wearing jewelry, but when lyra died, toby immediately clung to it. he wears it religiously. the only time he takes it off is if he knows he's going to kill someone that day. otherwise, its always on him.

lyra died and was buried in colorado. toby lives in alabama now. so he really doesnt visit her grave often. only on her birthday, he'll scramble together some money and get brian, tim, and kate to agree to cover his uh. 'shifts' with slenderman, and take a few loooonnnggg train rides over to colorado.

he'll leave two bouquets of flowers. one for lyra, one for connie.

connie just feels in her heart that its toby. she has no reason to believe it, they've never bumped into eachother (toby's visiting at like 2am and falls asleep near the grave for a few hours), but she knows nobody else whos visiting lyras grave and leaving two sets of the same flowers.

toby and lyras childhood home was put on sale shortly after it was reconstructed from the fire, and connie moved in with her sister. lyras bedroom door was the only one that was shut and left unscathed after the fire (legitimately keep your doors shut if you ever have a housefire it can save entire bedrooms and even lives). the rest of the house was ruined, but not lyras room. connie kept every single one of her belongings, but she's put some photos out on the grave. tobys taken them, and connie believes it was him. again, she has no reason to believe it other than the flowers and 'why would someone take a photo of my dead daughter.'

anyway hi. in tears. i love them. sorry. i just retell their story over and over and get sad everytime

[jubiilee13]

I am begging for jealous Mike either angsty or fluff

But just imagine him pouting because we are focused on Abby and he wants our attention

But angst hes suddenly back to when the house was hollow and his parents barely uttered a word to him

YEA YEA YEA YEA NOW WERE TALKING OMG

this literally made me emotional writing it my poor pookie bear hes so wifey he doesnt deserve that

this is not proof read so it may be a bit ass so sorry

love you anon 😍

—

It was summer break for Abby, and by this point you and Mike had been dating for a few months.

Mike was… clingy to say the very least.

Not that you minded of course, you thought it was quite cute when he clung to your side at every oppurtunity.

It did interfere at times however...

Now was one of those times.

You sat beside abby at her desk, listening carefully as she explained each little bit of her drawing which was currently in progress.

A gentle smile formed on your lips, and you watched her carefully, your hand combing through her hair as she works.

She continued her rambles, and you cant help but chuckle at her eagerness.

A knock on abbys door tears you from your thoughts, yet abby doesn't flinch, continuing her work as you gently pat her back, telling her you'll be back in a moment.

When you open the door, you meet mikes tired gaze, and you frown a bit, stepping out and closing the door behind you. (to ensure abby's masterpiece making isnt disturbed)

"You ok my darling?" your voice asks, concern evident in your tone.

Mike nods, but it is hesitant, and he immediately begins to ramble nervously "it-its stupid nevermind" he whispers, sounding almost embarrassed as he turns on his heel to leave.

Your gentle hand reaches out to grab his own, eyebrows furrowing with concern.

"Its not stupid, talk to me mike, im here to listen" You say, your grasp on his arm gentle, yet enough to cause him to break.

He lets out a quiet sob, and you dont hesitate to pull him into your arms.

"Hey hey hey im here mike, im here, talk to me, ive got you" you say gently, one hand combing through his hair as he cries into your shoulder.

You let him cry, leading him to the living room couch where he rests his head on your shoulder as he sniffles.

"You wanna talk about it" you mumble, still caressing his hair

He nods softly, taking a few deep breaths to compose himself before he begins to speak.

"I-i- i wasnt g-given much attention as a kid... after garret a-after all my... my mom and d-dad were too wrapped u-up in their grief to... to care... there were nights w-when i had to cook my o-own dinner... i-i i didnt even know how... but burnt food was b-better than starving. even before the w-whole garret thing, he was t-their golden child" he says, taking in another shaky breath as he continues.

"Ever... ever since i started dating y-you... i felt... i felt loved... cared for... but s-sometimes i get... scared that... one day you'll just... stop caring. I-i mean you love abby s-so much- and i d-do too dont get m-me wrong... its s-stupid i know but s-some days i get scared abby w-will be just like garret... and you'll leave me like they did" he whispers, a bit embarassed by his jealousy of his younger sister.

Your face softens, and you pull away to cup his face with your gentle hands.

"Your problems are not stupid, and i love you so much mike, more than i think words can even portray, i will never, and i mean NEVER stop caring about you, you are my sun, moon, and stars, you know that?" you say gently, a smile on your face as you wipe any stray tears that escape his beautiful eyes.

"Im sorry it seems like ive been neglecting you for abby, that girl is just the sweetest and shes like a daughter to me, but never will i ever stop caring for you over her" you say eyes never leaving his own

he sniffles again, and another wave of tears takes over him as he engulfs you in his arms now, body shaking as you comfort him.

The two of you would be ok

It takes time to heal, but deep down mike knew that he had found a keeper, and he wouldnt want to heal with anyone else but you

[actually-well-written]

modern AU Luffy x reader. pregnancy when you broke up. Pure Fluff

Inspired: season 8 episode 24 of FRIENDS; @portgasbru

trigger warning: swearing and description of birth 

I know Luffy's a little of out character, but I thought that in the modern world he would be a little less childish and a bit of a burnt out adult. A person that was a very energetic and silly kid, but grow up in a not so free feeling world. Unlike his anime. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Deep breaths. Deep breaths." Luffy repeats, soothing her back and rubbing her forearm.

"MY BREATHS CAN'T GET ANY DEEPER!!!" She shouts out despite being out of breath. "Help me out of bed, I need to walk." She demands, holding out her hand for him to grab.

He springs out of the bed and helps her feet onto the floor. Grabbing into her side and her arm, they start pacing around the hospital room, Luffy holding her close.

Her pants and groans of pain, die down just a little bit as they both rub her swollen belly and take slow steps.

"Oh good Lord!" She whines out, the sweat on her forehead causing her hair to stick to her face. "Luffy, I swear to fucking God, I hate you so much!"

"What did I do?!" He asks, dewildered.

"You did this to me!!"

"Well, it was really a team effort." He jokes, rubbing his neck for self comfort.

She stops in her tracks and glares at him, taking a deep breath as her contraction stops for the moment.

Luffy holds (y/n) by her waist and looks over her stomach, he sighs anxiously, "this baby sure is takin' its time."

"No kidding."

Near the end of last year, Luffy and (y/n) broke up, and as fate would have it, about three days after, (y/n) found out she was pregnant.

Despite all that happened, she told Luffy, he is the father, it was in his right for him to know. (Y/n) Of course made it clear she didn't want him to do anything he didn't want to or become a part of something so sudden with hardly any preparation, but he wanted to be in the baby's life and she did always wanted children.

Thus, they agreed to have the baby, and share custody. Nothing more, nothing less. They could be parents and not have to be forced to date again.

Nine months later and after some preparations, her water broke and they rushed to the hospital. Now waiting for her to fully dilate in a semi private room, at the moment, no other person was in the room.

Luffy sets himself next to (y/n) and carefully wraps his arms around her, placing loving hand on her belly and laying his head on a pillow.

"...Luffy? Can I tell you something?" She whispers.

"Yeah?"

"I'm really scared right now."

"Scared?" He repeats, raising an eyebrow.

"Everyone and their mom's been telling me horror stories of deliveries gone wrong and yeah, I know pain was always gonna happen, but now that it's actually happening, im-im scared."

Luffy glances to the side, licking his lips as if the confession wasn't shocking at all. "It's ok, bab-(y/n). Everythin's gonna be fine."

"You don't know that." She whispers, crossing her arms in a self hug.

"Yes I do. Everythin' will be fine. This baby will be happy and healthy-well. Maybe not happy, babies come out crying right? Healthy then. Definitely healthy." He reassures, getting a little sidetracked.

She giggles, rubbing a circle on her stomach, "yeah?"

"Yeah. I promise."

The two smile and stare at each other. (Y/n) Awkwardly giggles and looks away.

"...you know what we haven't done?" She asks, changing the subject. "Agree on a name."

Luffy's expression immediately drops and he crosses his arms, turning away from her, "I'm telling you, Solo is an amazin' name."

"We are not naming our-could-be son after Han Solo!!"

"HE'S SO AMAZING!!" He raises his arms to his side in protest. "And we are not namin' our-could-be daughter Persephone."

"I don't like Persephone anymore." She confesses, placing a soothing hand on one of her swollen ankles.

"Good!"

"I was thinking, if it's a girl, Céleste?"

"Céleste...." He repeats in a whisper. "Yeah, I'm good with that."

"And if it's a boyyyy...." She trials off tilting her head to the side as if it follows her sentence. "Ace."

Luffy snaps his head around and raises his eyebrows in an annoyed expression, "that's not funny."

She laughs softly, running a hand through her hair. Her sweat wetting her palm. "It's a little funny."

He doesn't reply, but leans against the headboard, "Arie." He deadpans, staring down at the foot of the bed. "If it's a boy, Arie."

"....Arie," she repeats, smiling to herself, "ok, Arie it is."

"Welp, that took us longer than it should have." He chuckles, combing his hat hair with his fingers.

She takes notice, biting a nail, a habit she hopes doesn't pass onto her baby. "Luffy? Why did you take off your hat?"

"Huh?"

"Your hat." She points to his signature straw hat sitting on the beige night stand next to the bed.

"Oh, um-"

"You don't like taking it off. You wore it to our first date. Hell, you wore it when we were conceiving this thing." She chuckles, gesturing to her belly.

"Hehe, yeah, that thing's seen a lot." He whispers, a light blush on his cheeks.

"Why'd you take it off?"

Luffy pauses, and scratches his neck for the possible millionth time now, and glances around the room to not meet her eyes.

"Uh, the doctor looked at me kinda funny when she saw me wearin' it."

"So? I've seen you wear that thing with a full fancy suit."

"Well, I..I need to mature a little, don't you think?"

"What?! No! Where is this coming from? Who are you?! Luffy wouldn't say that!"

"I'm gonna be a father now, (y/n), I need to start actin' my age-"

"Don't ever say that again." She pouts, glancing down at his shirt to avoid eye contact, "I like that you're immature, you've always made me laugh and it's admirable how you're never afraid to be yourself in any situation. Why would you want to change that?"

He pauses, taking his head off the headboard and putting his arms between his legs, his elbows resting on his knees.

"Please, put it back on." She tucks a hair behind her ear, "It makes me anxious when you take it off."

"Huh? Why?" He raises his head a little.

"Because! It makes you look serious, especially when you're frowning. How am I supposed to be less scared, if you look like your getting ready for something bad?"

Luffy sighs, seeing her worried expression. Without saying anything, he reaches towards the nightstand and places his hat back on his head, not bothering to adjust the string.

(Y/n) Also stays silent, laying her head right under his shoulder, her fingers gently adjusting the string to tighten perfectly around Luffy's jawline.

He let's her, not speaking or moving, not even watching, instead focusing on the outside world, right through the room window. Watching as the people walk by, probably none of them having to deal with an accidental pregnancy or the complicated feelings it brings.

"Can you....talk?" She asks, softly, lowering her hands from the string and placing them on her lap.

"What?" He snaps his focus back to her, forcing his gaze away from the couple below sitting in a park bench as they drink coffee together. A bittersweet nostalgia feeling eating at his heart.

She frowns softly, her eyes feeling with a bit of anxiousness. "Talk. About...anything really. I love hearing you talk." She whispers, remembering all the times she used to ask him to talk in order to fall asleep.

"Anything?" He snorts, "don't get me started." He crosses his arms and titles his head, thinking of something to say that would help her forget about basically pushing out a nine pound bowling ball.

"I saw the trailer for a movie, but I don't remember what the movie was called. So I made Zoro drive me to the movie theater, to see if I could recognize it by the poster. Turns out it wasn't a movie, it was an ad for car insurance."

She laughs and grabs his arm, "how do you mix that up?"

"Ads are becoming movie level, (y/n). Don't judge me!" He giggles, playfully scolding her. "Anyways, I bought popcorn and then me and Zoro went to go see Oppenheimer instead."

"Is it good? I haven't watched it yet."

"Yeah, it was. Really loud though." He explains, rubbing his ears as if he can still hear it perfectly.

"I wanna see sonic three!" She states, bouncing her feet on the bed slightly.

"Oooh, me too!" His eyes lights up in excitement, the exact way she likes them. "Let's go see it when it comes out!"

"Uh, when it does, we'll have a seven month old."

"We'll take 'em with us!"

" I don't think the other people there would appreciate that." She giggles.

"Oh, right. Fuck." He exclaims, scratching his leg while thinking of a new solution.

She smiles brightly at him, reaching towards his hat and fixing it to balance better on his head. The action causes Luffy to pause and watch her as her eyes glance at him more times than actually needed.

She puts her hand on the bed, in the space between the two. He clears his throat and rubs his cheek.

"I've...I've been thinking." He starts, placing his arm across her back, rubbing his leg nervously.

"You can think?" She jokes, Luffy only ignoring it.

".....I think-"

The door opens, causing (y/n) and Luffy to turn. The doctor walks in, putting on clean new gloves. "Nineteen hours." She exclaims, stopping right at the foot of the bed, "How you doing?"

"Like if this baby doesn't come out now, I'm gonna cut my stomach open and make 'em." She deadpans, causing Luffy to widen his eyes.

The doctor nods in understanding, checking her dilation, an action (y/n) unfortunately became used too. "Welp, you're in luck."

"I'm sorry?" Luffy asks, getting off the bed in shock. The contraption pain forgotten for (y/n).

"You're fully dilated. Let's go have this baby." She proudly announces, calling in nurses to help move the bed.

"Wait-wait. No-what? What. What!?" She panics, as they roll her away into the hallways, Luffy right next to her, holding her hand. "I'm not ready for this!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!!" (y/n) Sobs out, inhaling rapidly.

"Ok, we stop in five seconds." The doctor announces. "Five.......four-"

"Threetwoone!" (Y/n) Whines out, immediately stopping and laying her head on the angled bed. Panting and crying.

"You're doing great, (y/n)." Luffy praises, moving the hair from her face. Her sweat sticking to his finger. His other hand wrapped around her leg, helping her keep them open.

"Take a break, alright? breathe and we start again in ten minutes." The doctor explains, pushing her chair away slightly.

"No. No. No. I can't. I can't push anymore." She whimpers, covering her face with a hand as she cries.

"Yes, yes you can, (y/n). You're the strongest woman I know." Luffy reassures, adjusting his grip.

"Talk. Talk. Talk. Please. Luffy, please." She pants. Grabbing onto the sheets and she pushes herself up more.

"Uh-um. I-I don't know what to say." He awkwardly laughs, whipping the sweat from his palms on one of the pillows.

"What were you gonna tell me? Back in the room, you were gonna tell me something."

"Oh. That, um. Can that wait-"

"Please. Please. Please. I-I need a distraction." She begs, closing her eyes tightly.

"I ... I was just gonna say that.... I think we should try again."

"Try what?" She asks, turning her head to look at him.

"Us." He exclaims, "when-when we broke up. I-I actually died. Like my chest hurt and I couldn't get out of bed. Then when you told me you were pregnant, I immediately thought that we should get back together." He confesses. "But you know, you told me you didn't want that, and I wanted to respect it, but after all these months, I kept missing you. You were right there, but I couldn't call you mine anymore and I missed it."

He glances at the floor and gulps, "I-I think we should try again. We have a kid now, we should be a family. I want to be a family. And I think you do too." He pauses, "I know I didn't say it enough when we were together, but I love you. I love you a lot and I don't think it can ever go away, because it can barely even fit in my body."

(Y/n) Stays silent, looking up at him with a wide eyed expression, her sobs causing her body to shake a bit and her tears still spill out of her eyes.

Luffy glances around the room, and clears his throat, "can you say something?" He whispers.

"...I don't know what to say." She confesses.

".... Say you still love me too."

"I do still love you." She breathed, "and honestly? When I found out I was pregnant, I hoped that it meant we got to try again, but I was scared, because what happens if we get hurt again and our baby gets in the mix."

"We won't get hurt again." He insisted, "I know I'm an idiot and pretty dumb, and I don't make good decisions, but it's okay, because you're amazing and perfect and i would learn calculus for you. I know with all my being we'll do it right this time. You deserve it, I deserve it. They deserve it."

They both pause and stare at each other in full love and tenderness. Leaning in, they smash their lips together in a passionate kiss. The hat sliding backwards a little and he places his hand on her cheek, they continue the kiss for a few more seconds.

The doctor places her hand on her heart and cooes. "I'm gonna call my baby daddy after this." One of the nurses whispers. The other three nod in understanding.

"Ok, if you guys are ready let's finish this up." The doctor pushed her chair closer, placing her hands on the bed.

The two pull away and turn back towards the doctor, "yes, please." (Y/n) Exclaims, the pain intensifying as another contraption starts. Luffy wraps his arm around her leg again and hold her hand with his other.

"Ok, now. Push."

She continues to push and cry, repeating the action for the next hour, when finally. The room is filled with baby cries.

(Y/n) Screams and sobs for the last time as she watches Luffy cut the umbilical cord. The nurse holds up the baby in front of them. "It's a boy." She says softly, before taking him away.

(Y/n) And Luffy smile at each other, he wipes away her tears, and she traced the scar on his cheek, a small action she didn't know she missed doing.

The nurse gives back the baby, now wrapped in a blue blanket. (Y/n) Takes him and places him perfectly in her arms. Luffy kisses him in his forehead as (y/n) admires him.

"Do we have a name?" A nurse asks, her hands on her hips, admiring the baby as well.

"Arie." Luffy and (y/n) reply in union, before glancing back at each other. They smile brightly, before sharing another kiss, the hat falling off this time, the string tugging on Luffy's neck a bit.

[fatallyfalling]

Bitter Water 0.07 ~ ♆

“ You were nothing like him. You were more. And maybe that scared him a little. “

{{ Finnick Odair x Reader }}

{{ previous part || next part }} {{ masterlist }}

warnings: typical Hunger Games violence/trauma/themes, language, blood, injury, ptsd, forced prostitution, enemies to lovers, slow burn, death, nightmares, unintentional self injury, alcohol, insinuation of suicidal thoughts, mention of aphrodisiac abuse, sexual abuse, etc

{{ word count }} 8.2K

{{ prompt }} Six months was never going to be long enough. You would have sooner dug your heels into the earth and bared your teeth than go back - but you have to keep them safe. You only ever wanted to keep them safe….. in the end you never could…

{{ a/n }} Markiplier voice: “Hi - It’s me! I’m not dead! Which is an awful surprise considering how many people wrote my obituary yesterday! PREEMPTIVELY! In case i did die! But i didn’t! so suck on that!” anyhoo - This is LONG but also get ready to cry <3

p.s.- I promise reader isn’t a crybaby they’re just traumatized 😭 I also apologize if this is a bit scattered, it’s been in the works for over three months now but i swear you’ll get more consistency from reader here on out akkfkskdkskd The ending is also a tad rushed i just REALLY wanna get into them being older so I can write with more substance IM SORRYYYY

They’re alive.

Two words. Three syllables.

This mantra kept you moving. You’ve been home for little more than a month, but the treacherous plague of the arena had left its permanent reminders engraved on your skin. Still, you were too often dragged back by those same claws, kicking and screaming, under the blanket of night to relive the horrors of the 67th annual Hunger Games, only to awaken with bitter copper coating your tongue and a twisted scream retching from your throat. You’d already lost count of how often your episodes upset Dorian and Callan. They were too young to understand the poltergeists that haunted your nightmares. The poor boys had even started running to your father on wobbly legs dragged down by sleep to rouse the gruff man, bleary eyes the size of saucers, as your cries echoed through the too-big house. It sputtered that vital flame still fighting to ignite inside your chest to see them cry because of you.

You hated yourself for it.

Marjorie had hobbled up the three steps to your porch on creaking knees, breathless and panting as your Father led her into the finely furnished house the first night the terrors returned. He hadn't even bothered for his brown leather duster to cover the mangled remains of his dominant arm. Sweat pooled on Marjorie’s brow as the elder gripped her threadbare shawl tighter around her shoulders. The panic on your Father's face was all she'd needed to follow the man home in the middle of the night. Your screams met the elder's ears first. Then Dorian and Callan came bounding out of the parlor to meet her with fearful eyes and tight hugs. "Please, help them, Nana!" The twins blubbered between tears. An expression heavy enough to resemble grief painted your Father's features as Marjorie connected her gaze to his.

"I'll see what I can do."

The unfortunate reality was that there wasn't much that could be done. Marjorie had even enlisted Mags’ help in deciphering a possible treatment plan for the traumatic stress that seized your mind, but any leads ended up inconclusive. A specially brewed tonic of chamomile and lavender before bed at least aided in closing your eyes to combat the insomnia you'd developed, but little could be done to keep you asleep. You had daily sessions with Mags to try and sort through the inner turmoil. But progress was slow going, and you rarely made it past recounting the first few weeks of life in the arena before tears bubbled and panic took over your chest, squeezing so tightly you feared suffocation. Marjorie suggested seeking a higher level of care for your condition, but Mags signaled things might only get worse for you to be removed from your loved ones again so soon. You'd agreed with your mentor. As harrowing as your experiences had been, all that mattered to you were the twins smiling faces and the warmth in their embraces, or the idle chatter over an evening meal about their latest school projects or primary school gossip. The normalcy helped in its own way.

Your father once tried to coax you into going to a local medical clinic on one of your better days. "It's just a check-up." He'd claimed. But after angry red scratches peppered his one good arm, and you were huddled in a corner far from the door like a wild animal set to pounce, the idea was left to rot amongst other failed attempts to heal your internal wounds.

As much as you hated to admit it, your episodes had only worsened since being back.

There were four things you'd learned to despise since surviving The Games.

1. Water

2. Closed Spaces

3. Finnick Odair

4. President Coriolanus Snow

Your aversion to water still clamped around your throat like a vice. But that natural, sometimes visceral, longing for the sea was a heavy weight in your chest. Water still brought painful memories to the front of your mind, with soap suds burning your eyes in the shower between ferocious blinks, but the salty spray of coastal air was too enticing to turn from. You still found yourself sneaking away from Victor’s Village in the wee hours of morning to the brine scented sands down a tall-grassed hill behind your house. Unlike your home, tucked away in a more secluded, woodland, part of town, the Village was right along the coast outside the edge of the port. You could see the lit up pier and ship docks down the shoreline in murky shadows over the horizon, occasionally illuminated by the ever turning lighthouse nestled amongst the cliffs younglings favored to dive from.

You’d ventured up to the cliffs a handful of times since returning to District 4. The wind was wild and whipped your hair this way and that with howling gusts up the face of the rocky mountain. Summer was nearing the end of its course, with crisper air wafting in from the ocean that sent shivers up your spine, and the hair on your arms and the nape of your neck to stand on end. You’d wander up at night, cloaked in shadow with whisps of moonlight curling over the planes of your face and arms. If anyone below witnessed the picture of your gauzy night clothes billowing in the wind amongst the shadows passing your face under moonlit clouds, they’d think they saw an apparition. One of the local myths, told only in hushed voices in warm taverns by rosy-cheeked, ale scented, fisherman out of Peace Keeper's earshot. You didn’t dare try to jump. However tempting the darkest reaches of your mind made the caress of its fingertips along the veil of your sanity, pawing the sheer curtain as if asking permission to flood your thoughts and set that roaring inferno in your chest loose, you stayed firm on the damp earth.

You wouldn’t do that to your family.

Days were easier than nights at least. You favored the large, second story bay windows of the grey dappled house, soaking up warmth from the sun and your personally home brewed tea. Your father had tried to replicate your recipes while you’d been away but Dorian and Callan loved to remind the poor elder that yours still tasted sweeter. Another thing the twins had missed in your absence. You’d taken it upon yourself to teach the younglings the simple brew in perfect replication, earning giggles of sheer joy from the boys and an eye roll from your bemused Father. You’d also begun a small collection of your personal recipes in a small leather bound journal gifted to you from your father to replace the old water damaged cards you used to keep the instructions on. Amongst freshly printing the terms you still tucked the old cards between the pages as keepsakes and tell of origin. You cherished the small book tremendously.

Cooking had also surprisingly became rather cathartic for you in a way. Doing something with your hands helped ease the nervous habit that created burning red crescents in your palms, especially when it came to kneading dough or fixing herbs to garnish meals. It had been an adjustment to fix more filling meals that made enough if not more for your small family. Instead of saving every scrap, or even skipping your own helping to allow the twins seconds, there was enough to feed everyone and then some for once.

The wealth that came with winning The Games was generous and easily enough to live well into the rest of your lives. But it also cast a heavy weight on your shoulders. Another permanent reminder of the spilt blood that coated your skin in phantom stickiness. Sometimes you wished nothing more than to be rid of the fortune, but the prospering health of your siblings always managed to chip away at the solid guilt cocooning your heart.

All you ever wanted was to provide for them and keep them safe.

Safe.

Three months have now passed since You’d arrived back in District 4.

Finnick Odair had kept his distance, if not attempting to avoid you entirely. Well - as much as he could with what shred of free will the boy had to spare. He was exhausted, and the knife that had carved out his bleeding heart from his chest had become a rudimentary ache. No matter how heavy the concealer his stylist’s applied was, dark circles and hangovers could only be hidden under playboy charm and pointy smirks for so long. Since Finnick’s announcement as a “Desirable” Victor four months prior, he’d felt the Capital collar and chain around his neck tighten and yank in whichever way Snow commanded with growing severity. Part of him was surprised there wasn’t bruising where the icy torque would have rested on his throat.

There was never a ‘day off’ for Finnick Odair. Not anymore. There was always a performance to be made, or an appearance at a party, or a sticky-fingered Capital elitist client spewing sultry filth in his ears that made the boy want to either be sick or run the lethal triple blade trident hanging in his bedroom through their gut several times.

The retched hunger of Capital elitist’s, heiresses, and whoever else was rich enough to pay the sharks prowling in shadowed corners of banquet halls or knew who to speak to in order to arrange an ‘evening’ with the ‘Prince of District 4’ was insatiable. Every minute detail of the Golden Boy’s daily life became scheduled, prepped, scrubbed, tested, ordered, dressed, touched, and pressed. There were no choices, no breaks, no compromises.

If Finnick Odair wasn’t perfect or spotlight ready for even a millisecond - people would talk. If Finnick wasn’t flirting or hanging on the arm of someone new every night they’d get bored. If there was no gossip, no allure to the honey-tanned playboy they’d lose interest and President Snow would bring down the iron fist poised mere inches over the carefully crafted safety net around Mags and the few people he dared hold higher than himself.

Cold water helped ease the pressure.

The freezing splash of droplets on his tanned skin was palpable. The opposite of sparks and flames which singed lapping, invisible burns through his veins and made setting himself ablaze more appealing than the possible friction of another persons touch for a thousand years. It was an expensive effort to not flinch away or recoil from groping hands. The most Finnick allowed himself under a mirror-practiced mask of feigned pleasure or pride was a minuscule flutter of muscle in his sharp jaw and the continuous picking at invisible lint from progressively more revealing tunics and netting.

Finnick didn’t want to think about what kind of scrap fabric or net he’d be forced to wear years down the line if the stylists were already pushing to show more skin on the Victor.

Scrubbing calloused palms down his mascara streaked cheeks, the taste of sea salt met his tongue. Poseidon’s waves had effectively washed the remaining remnants of gold luster from his neck and shoulders in the rolling shallows. Finnick took his time to savor a thorough inhale of the briney coast. He hadn’t bothered to venture back to his house in the Victor’s Village culdesac. He was lucky to have slipped away from the escorts Snow often ordered to be close by. Protecting the “merchandise”. Shades of navy and indigo painted the horizon with thin smears of pink where the endless sky met the waves.

The air was crisp, sending small puffs of white air into the atmosphere under tired breaths. Finnick had just barely returned from yet another unremarkable Capital function. He didn’t care that his luxurious trousers were now soaked to mid thigh in the frigid water, or that his fingertips had gone numb and pruned. He just wanted the memory of touch and the stupid damn gold dust gone.

“Damn it…” Finnick sighed. It was another exhausting effort to bite back the string of curses threatening to push through his teeth on pointed canines. To curse Snow, curse the Games, hell - curse all of Panem and the Capital for all he cared.

The boy let his sea-green gaze sweep across the coastline. Part of him wondered if snagging a boat from the docks and going off on his own would be worth it. Mags would never agree to it. Before the Games, Finnick would have accepted a quiet life as a fisherman, helping younglings and living off the daily catch.

But he wasn’t normal anymore. He wasn’t even a kid.

‘You’re just a kid.’

‘You’re both just kids.’

The memory pierced Finnick’s mind, drawing a crease between his brows and a wrinkle in his nose.

He wasn’t allowed to be a ‘kid’ anymore. He didn’t have a choice. Tearing his gaze from the sparkling lights of the bobbing sailboats sleeping in the far-off dock, Finnick’s gaze lifted to the spinning lighthouse on the cliffs. The weather stained roofing and salt eroded stones that made up the building left an eerie aura to the tower. Some of the older younglings (himself included) had spun ghost stories to scare the youngest kids around campfires on the dusty sands in mid summer.

He’d missed Summer.

The short cliffs were quiet much like the docks, a sleeping district soon to be awake in a matter of hours. There was a chilled breeze swaying the tall pine trees. Breathy smoke curled around the boy’s shoulders as he set himself moving. The frigid air and water had numbed his legs but he welcomed the cold. Late November didn’t freeze the coast but it sure as hell made things icy up here in the north. Wet sand sank and remolded under his leather boots. The boy had cast down his gaze towards the sand for only a moment in quiet contemplation before snapping back to the cliffs at the sound of a shrill cry.

“What the hell?”

Another sob ricocheted across the cliffs and swam over the shore through his eardrums. The sound was pained, and warrior instinct had his eyes scanning the cliffs over and over for its owner. Remembering he did in fact have legs, the boy put them to use, kicking up sprays of damp sand under heavy strides as he made a break for the curving paths that led to the summit. The specter of pale, gauzy fabric had been his only clue that someone was up there. Maybe he was an idiot for chasing danger, a fool for following the snapping thread in his chest like a second heartbeat. He’d remembered that scream as vividly as the day he’d witnessed you finish the Games.

His lungs started to burn halfway up as a haggard cough choked from his throat between ragged breaths. His calves barked in protest at the uneven terrain but he pushed himself harder. Already cycling through worst case scenarios the Victor had thrown caution to the wind well beforehand. Despite every fiber of his being screaming to stay away and forget. Forget the thread, forget the draw, forget the stupid hunger that made his fingertips twitch or the buzz in his ears get louder under your cold gaze.

He just had to get there. To you.

But why?

You were just another Victor. Just another cog in the grotesque clockwork of Snow’s empire. You were just like him.

You were nothing like him.

Maybe that was it.

You weren’t a career. You weren’t born and bred to kill. You weren’t him.

You were more.

And maybe that scared him a little.

Your name was a desperate prayer on Finnick’s tongue as he crashed onto the clearing he’d glimpsed your hazy form upon.

It was empty.

Maybe he was losing it a bit. Reckless paces that brought the boy peering over the edge on a tightened stomach that feared the possibility of what lie below dropped as sea green storms met empty rocks. You weren’t here. A vulgar curse huffed from his chest as damp hands fisted bronze waves as he paced around the empty clearing.

Maybe he was crazy.

But unbeknownst to the bronze-haired boy, your trembling form quickly retreating through the brush on bare feet that had the hemming of your nightclothes snag on stray twigs, growing caked in smears of mud by the second, said otherwise.

Six months passed too quickly.

The sun was a glowing smear between grey, puffy clouds. The weather had been dreary and damp for weeks now as winter set in. Maybe the sun had pushed past the clouds as a form of goodbye. A last touch of warmth before the metal tomb that stretched down the station platform before you swallowed you whole.

The Victory Tour was to begin in a matter of moments.

There was a cruel sense of comfort as you peered across the cobbled station at your family and the ever bustling Capital team featuring Thatcher Bellstone - your escort, and Hyacinth, your stylist from the Games, who was currently fussing with straightening jacket collars and lint rolling trousers.

Everyone had been dressed to the nines in typical Capital fashion. Callan and Dorian featured matching knit hats and handmade mittens, your Father bearing a new fur lined duster, and Mags had a cream colored muff to protect her aging hands that matched her coat.

And Finnick - God why was he even here?

His navy wool coat matched the emerald scarf hugging his throat in a neat knot. Black trousers and snow dusted dress shoes holding a casual stance as the boy’s bronze waves danced in the breeze. Your jaw set in annoyance. The two of you still hadn’t spoken, hadn’t interacted since the train ride six months ago. Vague glimpses of Bronze waves and liqueur coated chuckles had ventured through your cracked windows some nights but you could barely look at the fellow victor without wanting to punch him. The pleasure he seemed to take in being “Desirable” made your insides churn.

All cheshire smirks and no bite. That’s who Finnick Odair was. You’d stopped trying to decipher the hazy echoes of his cries that barely formed your name three months ago. How he’d even seen you on those cliffs that night was wild all on it’s own. Maybe you had imagined it - some half-baked, desperate, imaginary cry for help. Useless. Worthless.

He’d never care about you - maybe anyone - that way. It didn’t matter.

None of it mattered.

Adjusting the dappled grey coat Hyacinth had dressed you in to match the twin’s, you averted your eyes from the Victor just as sea green irises flashed in your direction. You were thankful he wouldn’t be coming with. Finnick would rejoin your ensemble once the tour made it back to District 4 in a few weeks, but until then you’d be Peacock free.

Your senses felt wired with electricity as cameras flashed, with your knuckles burning under the vice-like fists you’d balled at your sides. You didn’t want to go, but you didn’t have a choice. It was tradition for the Victor of every Games to take a tour across the twelve districts and speak to the families of fallen tributes. The idea made you sick. You hadn’t won anything. You’d only survived.

Dorian and Callan were blubbering like sea sponges against your chest as you bent down to grip them tight. “It’s just for a little while…” You murmured while breathing in the love in their identical hair. The words were meek and your breath hitched on the end of the sentence but you bit down on the hiccuping sob prodding your throat and squeezed the boys tighter.

You’d said similar words before entering a death match mere months ago.

“Shh.. it’s gonna be okay, there’s plenty of tea in the ice box. Just don’t stress out Pa okay? Do your chores and be good. I love you.” You murmured between pressed lips, pulling back to look the twins in the eye. The boys nodded vigorously, giving tiny smiles between tear stained faces and red button noses. “We’ll be SO good!” Callan chirped with a small salute.

“That’s my boys.” You rasped, pulling down both of their knit hats over their eyes before quickly standing just as cameras flashed and elated shrieks echoed across the stones from the boys. Your heart squeezed as scruff brushed your cheeks while your Father came to envelope you in a bear hug with his good arm.

“Be good kid, be good..”

“I will, I will…” You nodded back, squeezing the man just as tight.

“Come, Come! We need to keep on schedule!” Thatcher clapped their burnt sienna gloves twice, calling everyone’s attention and causing the warm embrace of your Father to disappear as he returned to the boys a few paces away. The twins were busy ogling Finnick. Ironically, despite your disdain for the Darling, they’d taken a steep interest in the older boy as some “cool kid” much like how they referred to popular younglings at school. It made your eye twitch sometimes, but Finnick wasn’t mean or short with them. If anything he was kind and caring. Gentle. It was weird, seeing Finnick be gentle with someone other than Mags.

You tried to brush off the rising warmth in your chest.

Mags had soon appeared beside your Father, and the two silently communicated in hushed whispers from the man with Mags waving off his worries with gentle nods and heart warming smiles. They no doubt were discussing how to handle your terrors and your ‘zero alcohol’ rule they’d been enforcing the past months. You were thankful they didn’t let you sink too far, but sometimes the itch for that familiar numbness and sway in your vision picked at your brain a bit too harshly.

“Right! We have a tight - tight! Schedule to follow now. Smile for the cameras and let us be on our way dear. You’ll be back before you know it!” Thatcher bellowed between a phlegmy cough. Rolling your eyes, you gave everyone one last hug before standing in front of the bronze-haired Victor while everyone else filed onto the train or off to the side.

“Peacock..”

“Still using names are we? Didn’t know you liked me that much~” Finnick all but purred, earning another eye roll from you. “Shut up. Just - don’t corrupt my siblings while i’m gone. I can barely handle one of you, I don’t need three Peacocks running around.” You huffed with a wave of your hand. Finnick chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest as his voice had all but deepened and matured further these past months. “Can’t say that’d be the worst thing, would it?” You felt the tips of your ears burn at the flirtatious tone in his voice and shoved his shoulder away before turning around to face the train.

“Goodbye, Odair.”

“Hey - just..”

You couldn’t help but stiffen as the boy turned you back to face him, a firm hand gently brushing your shoulder. The urge to punch him had your jaw setting all over again.

“Don’t sink. You’ll be back.” Finnick’s voice was soft, softer than you’d ever heard it and for a moment you felt as if a thread ran from your heart up to meet his fingertips on your arm. He was never gentle. Not like this. “Stop being weird, Peacock.” You shrugged his hand off your shoulder despite the burning you felt in your cheeks and swiftly turned and strode away.

You had to have imagined it. The softness in his eyes that made him look younger, more alive. The honey in his tone that matched something you’d only read about. There was no way.

None.

The metallic click of the train car doors closing managed to snap you out of your thoughts as you scrubbed a stray tear from your cheek. Hyacinth coming over to flit about a powdered brush to fix the small amount of cosmetics she’s applied to your skin earlier that afternoon. “It’s wonderful to see you again darling, absolutely wonderful.” The stylist chirps while brushing an airy kiss past each of your cheeks.

You feel a bit sick.

A lot sick - actually.

Time moves almost in slow motion for a moment as your knees buckle and next thing you know you’re on the floor hurling up the biscuit and pear jam you’d choked down that morning. Ringing starts in your ears and a shrill cry from Hyacinth has Thatcher and Mags bustling over to help as the room sways and your trembling hands become blurry behind tears.

You’d been caged all over again.

The tour took a little over two weeks.

Every day and different district you visited felt like an eternity. You’d barely been able to keep anything down as the haunted faces of fallen Tributes and their families plagued every waking thought. Hyacinth continued applying increasingly heavier cosmetics to try and conceal your pain. Your facial features had become gaunt from the retching with deep smudges of purple making homes beneath your dull eyes. You couldn’t stand looking out at the families of people you had or hadn’t killed and having the audacity to apologize and read a flimsy notecard scrawled in neat cursive by Thatcher expressing that their deaths somehow meant something. You’d been verbally assaulted by crowd members gathered in the District’s Judicial Complexes more times than you cared to count.

Liar.

Murderer.

Cheat.

Thief.

The colorful names they called you felt like repeated blows to the gut. And they somehow knew exactly where to hit. Part of you wondered how Finnick had done this. How Mags had done this. How any Victor of the Games had done this. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t handle any of this.

“I-I can’t… I can’t Mags…” You’d begged and pleaded with your mentor to let you not go on stage. Begged her to not make you face another grieving family while you stood there alive like some prize winning salmon. It didn’t matter how much you’d survived you were still a coward. You didn’t deserve to be here.

Coward.

You’d been a coward to hide. It didn’t matter that you’d survived, you’d still killed and fought your way to the end of the 67th Games. You were everything those hecklers claimed you to be and worse and you knew it. Mags gripped your shoulders tight and forced your eyes to meet hers. Her stare alone told you everything you needed to know before she wrapped you in her thin arms and squeezed tight. You didn’t have a choice in this. You understood she’d have done everything and anything to keep you from going out there if she could but she couldn’t.

By the time the tour reached District 7 you’d gone numb.

“Panem thanks your tributes for their bravery. A-and I thank… th-thank them for their sacrifice…” You stammered on the sentence you’d read six times now. You’d continued to stumble through it for the past six districts you’d been forced to speak in front of. A bottle hits the front edge of the stage with a shattering crash, and angered shouts rouse from the crowd as Peacekeepers force themselves forward in an ordered line, batons shooting from holsters and sharp-shooter rifles strapped across their chests. Your eyes squeeze shut as white gloves grip your under arms and force you away. The speech remains unfinished.

Heavy wooden doors slam behind you and gentle hands grip your face as your mouth contorts to an even deeper frown. The owners fingers are soft, but a tinge cold. Mags. Your eyelids crack and the flimsy, wrinkled notecard in your hands falls to the floor as you crumple into the elders arms. The embrace is short as Thatcher comes up to usher your team to the train as shouting starts to echo through the thick doors behind you.

Coward.

“Best we be on our way. Things seem to be getting a bit out of sorts here.” Thatcher chirps, but their face is solemn as your eyes meet. “Come now Dear,” They sigh. Your only reply is a meek nod. Hyacinth provides a small handkerchief to wipe your eyes and the mechanical maneuvers of the Capital train greet your party as the machine lurches into motion minutes later. ‘Just a few more days…’ You try to remind yourself as Mags helps guide you to the observatory car. You didn’t need the physical support but welcomed it as the two of you found places to curl up on the large, curved sofa. The seats were as plush as you’d remembered.

You’d managed to spend most of your down time here. The scents of damp earth and various florals were comforting. Except the stark-white roses, which had been removed from the various coffee tables to one corner of the room. You tried not to look at them. Your mentor laid a gentle hand to your knee as you curled up to peer out the window. Buildings passed and turned into tall trees, citizens working the lumber were only spotty blurs amongst the rush of the train. “It’s hard to keep doing this over and over Mags…” You sigh, sparing a glance to the elder before continuing. “It’s almost like reliving the arena over and over…” A small squeeze to your knee was enough to turn your attention from the window.

Mags’ eyes seemed far away. Although she maintained eye contact with you, you could tell she was somewhere else. Revisiting the countless tributes she’d mentored in the past no doubt. Her small smile didn’t meet her eyes like it normally did. A few hand gestures from the woman was enough to convey what a part of you was itching to ask.

“It never gets easier. Only tolerable.” You echoed. Mags nods, and your knee receives another small squeeze. Your response is a small hum, moving a hand to cover hers as your fingers gently interlace. You’d had quite enough of the tears and the pains overwhelming your thoughts. The past half a year had been harrowing enough. Maybe it was time to take something back from Snow. From the Capital. From the Games. From all of Panem. A muscle in your jaw tenses before you speak, “I-I want to get better.. learn to tolerate it.” You mutter.

“I’m sick of being useless. Of sitting, and doing nothing. I don’t want to show the Capital that they hold power over me. That they’ve hurt me. They’ve seen enough of my heart, it’s time they see something else.”

An echo of words from the train platform almost a week ago ebb their way to the forefront of your mind.

“Don’t sink.”

You wouldn’t sink. Not anymore.

A twinkle of hope appears in Mags’ eyes as spiteful determination sparks in yours. That flame in your chest sparking back to life with a newfound vigor. You’d be better. You had to be.

You will not die. You will survive. And you will float - not sink.

You don’t stutter through anymore speeches from them on. You wouldn’t let them see that they got to you. Even if you broke behind closed doors, hiccuping sobs on the onyx tile of your bathroom floor, you wouldn’t dare let anyone else see it from now on.

Coward.

Arriving back to District 4 was a monumental relief, even if it was only for a day. The twins were overjoyed, forgetting a certain Bronze-haired boy’s existence the moment you stepped onto the cobblestone platform. Your nickname is a shriek behind elated laughter as you kneel to embrace the boys.

“Sheesh, what have they been feeding you boys? You’ve gotten taller and it’s only been a week!” You quip behind a coy smile. Dorian simply shakes his head and clings to your arm while correcting you that it’s been longer than seven days while Callan hollers a retort saying you’re lying. “Nuh uh! We’re just the same!”

You’re dressed in the same dappled grey coat with the edition of a sage colored scarf as breathy puffs of white air curl through your conversations.

“Uncorrupted just as you ordered.” Finnick quips with a dramatic wave of his hand and a slight bow as he approaches. Your eyes roll in annoyance but you can’t help the slight pull at the corners of your mouth. “My hero,” you deadpan as you rise, picking up Dorian and setting him on your hip. Finnick is dressed much the same as when you last saw him, though his bronze waves are more tousled than usual. His scarf is tied tighter around his throat, but you still catch the tinge of red and purple smears under his jawline. A tightness seizes your chest as Finnick seems to notice your stare and adjusts the knitted material.

“It’s nothing.” The boy claims, but a crease draws his brows in, and his tanned fingers pick a piece of invisible lint from the lapel of his navy coat. “Hm,” You hum in response, averting your own gaze back down to the twins as you feel an awkwardness rise in the air. You clear your throat while scrunching your nose and wetting your lips a moment before moving to say hello to your Father. Finnick remains rooted to his spot, but you can sense the Darling’s eyes lingering on your form as you retreat.

The rest of your visit to District 4 runs smoothly. There isn't much of a speech to be given, rather a small banquet is held in your honor instead. You dread parties, and a painful twist in your stomach squeezes as you sit through the meal that night under the beaming lights of the Judicial Complex auditorium making your head start to spin. What a part of you wouldn't give for one of the many glasses of champagne floating around, but based on the daggers Mags sends your way each time you reach for one of the crystal glasses has you quickly retreating and second-guessing your decisions. Finnick is somehow glued to your side much to your dismay. The boy looks almost like a prince. His pine-colored poet's tunic is cut low, almost to his navel, with black, slim-fit trousers with knee-high laced boots to match with a shimmer of iridescent luster sprinkled across his clavicle and the highest points of his cheeks. The miniature rendition of his famous trident rests around his neck again as well. Part of you wonders if Hyacinth and the boy's stylist were in cahoots behind the scenes as your equally pine-colored ensemble matches the elegance of Finnick's outfit a bit too well. You weren't fond of form-fitted clothing but had become rather desensitized to the matter following Hyacinth's frequent choices to show off your figure. Your garment tonight was a form-fitted silk gown that featured a high slit up your left thigh and an open back. The sleeves were off the shoulder and flowed in a balloon-like fashion before gathering once more at your wrists. Inky, strapped shoes with a short heel could be glimpsed at your feet as well. part of you wondered if Finnick had caught on to the whole ordeal but by the carefree, cheshire smirk on his rosy lips you couldn't tell.

Finnick had caught on the moment you'd stepped into the auditorium.

It felt as if he’d been set on fire. Sparks shot like lightning up his arms and across his chest as he couldn’t help drinking you in from across the room. That excruciatingly tight thread in his chest started to fray.

Finnick tried not to think about it.

He couldn't. He shouldn't.

'Shit...'

The closeness as you sat beside Finnick absentmindedly picking at your plate, not even a foot away had the boy so overwhelmed he couldn't think, only sparing a glance your way every now and then while trying to casually drape himself over his chair. The effort to keep a smirk on his face and a carefree aura was suffocating. What the hell was wrong with him? You’d sat next to or across from one another plenty of times. He'd seen you dressed up like this plenty of times.

Okay - maybe it had only been on screens but that was besides the point.

He had to get a grip. He'd already heard the rumors of there being something between the two of you from the Games starting to stir again amongst the elites as the end-of-tour banquet in the Capital district edged closer in the coming days. You didn't need more to stress over. especially not regarding him. You may have been able to keep a mask of chemical calm when dealing with everyone around you but he could see the shadows under your eyes and the limpness in your hair. Your hands still trembled, and your lower lip remained puffy from biting it. He'd learned your anxious habits from quiet observation. He had plenty of his own tells he was well aware of himself.

Finnick silently cursed himself again.

You were lucky enough to sleep in your own bed for the night, though Dorian and Callan insisted on joining you as if they were attention-deprived puppies. You welcomed their embraces as they nestled close, but knew you'd end up in a corner of the mattress without any blanket to keep warm as the boys occupied the majority of the bed space available. But you didn't mind. Nor did you want to leave them again so soon. But the tour had to be finished. You rested easier that night than you had in weeks, despite the bed-hogging of your siblings.

The morning was met with a quiet breakfast and another teary-eyed goodbye. Then it was back on the train and on to the final three districts. Homes of the Career Tributes.

This time around, Finnick had joined your party of escorts for the last leg of your journey. He claimed he had some occupations to fill and favors to uphold but didn't offer more explanation than that. He'd also opted for wearing higher-necked shirts and sweaters around the train, which you had found unusual compared to his normal attire, but didn't bother to question. It was his business and therefore you needn't bother with it. Pretty Peacocks had Pretty Peacock things to do, you supposed.

The remaining districts were as troublesome as the last eight. District 2 was especially harsh, considering the blade you'd driven through the chest of their male tribute in the final moments of the Games. The district of luxury held nothing back as the family spewed filth your way for your cowardness in killing their son. You couldn't manage to keep your dinner down that night. You didn't stay in your personal quarters either, opting to remain in the Observatory car instead.

You hadn't missed the dazzling limelight of the Capital district.

You especially hadn't missed the pawing hands of the elite citizens.

The gala outside of President Snow's mansion was beyond anything you'd seen previously. To say the vibrant lights and overstuffed buffet tables were overwhelming would be an understatement. They were downright outrageous. Between the high-pitched caws of heiresses and the phlegmy coughs and sticky fingers of brokers and other top-class citizens and staff, you felt your skin practically buzzing from the overstimulation. You wanted nothing more than to slip away or melt into the floor. Peacekeepers lined every alcove and doorway on guard. But there wasn't any concern for the groping hands or lingering touches as you tried your best to squeeze through the crowd. Thatcher had disappeared almost instantaneously, swallowed up by the sea of brightly dressed vultures. You felt your breath grow hyper as your eyes darted around in search of anyone to hold onto and ground yourself. Finnick could be spotted across the swell of dancers in the hall hanging on the arm of two squawking elitists. The Darling was dusted in a similar luster you'd seen at the banquet in District 4, except in much more excess as the boy wore an organza tunic the color of his eyes that left little to be imagined. His trousers were bone white with chestnut dress shows. The Darling was equally adorned in dainty, golden chains as he was glitter and smudged lipstick. Your own cheeks burned at the blatant display.

What on earth was he doing??

Your eyes locked for a mere second, your bewildered gaze pleading, if not begging but the victor paid you no mind as pointed, too-white canines flashed in scandalous conversation with the people around him. You were utterly stranded.

Someone gripped your backside suddenly, earning a yelp and the urge to whip back and punch but instead, you whirl, backing straight into someone's shoulder. Amid the swirling music and voices, you felt tears spring to your eyes, threatening to spill as a gloved hand catches your waist and you're steadied on your feet. Your deep aqua gown whispers on the tiled floor (yes, another secret match to finnick's ensemble) and you're sputtering apologies quicker than you can think. You had to get out of here.

"It's quite alright Dear. A bit overwhelmed are we?"

"I- uhm... I'm so sorry, s-sir." You stutter as you behold the man standing before you. Snow white hair slicked back, with a neatly groomed beard and stark white suit has you gulping down the lump forming in your throat.

President Coriolanus Snow is standing in front of you.

You wish nothing more than to be shot dead right then and there. The creator of your horrors, of the hardships across the districts and the killing games children are forced to play in, was standing in front of you with his hand on your waist. A wolf in sheep's clothing. The devil himself.

A string of colorful profanities cycles through your mind as you're only able to blink in horror and feigned surprise. Any confidence or spite you thought you might have leeches from your mind as your skin blanches.

"I've been meaning to have a word with you. You did quite well in the Games this season, and have caught the interest of a few...clients, of mine. Not to mention the Mockingjays flittering about with rumors of a certain Darling, hm?" The President's tone is hollow. His steeled gaze bores into your own and you can't form the words to reply before the gloved hand at your waist slides up your torso and over to the back of your arm as the older man begins to guide you. The crowd instantly parts and conversations nearby halt, obviously eavesdropping on what the President of Panem has to say.

"Let us move away from prying ears. Gossip is a terrible thing." The President drawls as he pats your elbow. You swallow hard with a meek nod, sucking your lower lip between your teeth and feeling the taste of copper coat your tongue. You bit too hard.

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you pass a very unbothered Finnick, his cheeks and honey-tanned skin are flushed as his overly dilated pupils pay you no heed. Something was wrong. very wrong. The Darling reeked of champagne, mint, and something you couldn't place, and strong. The heiresses on his arms were speaking in hushed, sultry tones, and were tugging at his barely-there tunic. The boy wasn't fighting back. Your stomach drops to your toes as you can only sense the growing fear coming from the crease between his brows and the muscle fluttering in his jaw.

The greenhouse the President brings you to has bile rising to your throat. Every pot, bed, soil flat, and more was covered in white roses. The sickly sweet scent had your skin crawling and nose scrunching, despite the tang of fear on your tongue and the gnawing pressure squeezing your chest. Snow gestures for you to sit on a stone bench near a small fountain. The water gurgles as it threatens to overflow the basin it waters. Snow takes his place beside you, a gentle twist in his torso that sends whispers of his blazer over his silk shirt.

"You put on quite a show in the Arena my Dear. Playing soft and subtle but outlasting the wolves and striking like an asp in the end. You caused quite a stir amongst high-profile viewers. There have been whispers of intrigue about you. Many people covet a doe amongst a pack of wolves. Soft and sweet - like a lily among a field of thorned roses. Something to control," Snow begins. You feel miniscule compared to the powerhouse of a man beside you. You worry he can scent the fear seeping into your bones as you clasp your hands together like a vice to hide the trembling.

"I-I'm sorry. I don't quite follow."

Snow chuckles. Chuckles. The sound makes you wish to crawl out of your skin.

" Certain individuals feed on control. On submission. Complete - submission." The President's eyes grow dark and feel yourself shifting away, though the attempt is futile on the small bench.

"I'm saying people want you. You're - Desirable."

Desirable.

You'd heard the word only in hushed whispers less than a handful of times. Mainly when Finnick was involved. This couldn't be good. An awful nausea settles in your stomach as the President makes his proposal.

"Predators enjoy the hunt of their prey. The thrill of the hunt. They want a new Desirable Victor. Yes, they've had their shiny new Princeling to enjoy and ravish. Mr. Odair, if I'm not mistaken. But with your victory and spectacular display, they crave more. So I'm offering this," The mention of Finnick's status holds a venom that solidifies the sickness in your gut. If you could run far, far away right now, you would. And you'd sure as hell hunt down the vipers coiled around Finnick and take him with you.

"Become Desirable - or those fetching siblings of yours, and dear old Father, and everyone you hold dear, will be punished. Severely. What are their names? Dorian? Callan?" The President squints his eyes, crow's feet becoming pronounced around the corners of his eyes as your throat goes dry. Horror shoots through you as your heart all but shatters into a million pieces.

"Maybe I should throw in your dear Peacock, hm? The Capital would adore a star-crossed scandal. Trading their prince for a heartbroken princess?"

"P-please..." You murmur, the word barely audible.

"There's no room for discussion here. They'll be dead by morning if you don't accept. For the greater good of Panem and the strength of the Games, Dear."

Your vision blurs as defeat slashes your chest. Your limbs feel like jelly as you feel blood drip down your chin from the bite on your lip and a dampness coats your cheeks.

"Let them live..." You squeak.

Shame filters through the horror and disgust you feel. But you have to keep them safe. You'd lay down your own life sooner than any of theirs. Always.

A white glove smudges the blood from your chin, a crimson stain coating the President's glove as he accepts your agreement and gestures for you to stand. You do.

"Smile for the cameras Dear, tonight will be grand."

You can't bring your lips to move. Another tear slides down your face.

President Snow wipes the stray tear from your blanched cheek as a vile grin adds to the wrinkles on his face. You say nothing as the Predator guides you away from the greenhouse and up to the balcony overlooking the party. The President clears his throat and the room falls silent.

Finnick is nowhere to be seen through the crowd and panic surges through your chest.

"My dear citizens of the Capital, and all of Panem. I have a very special announcement to make this evening. As you know, we are gathered here tonight in honor of the Victor of our 67th Annual Hunger Games. " Snow's voice booms over the gala. Your insides churn as he continues to announce the sentence to seal your fate. You'd lost an even bigger game than you thought imaginable. You can’t find Finnick anywhere. A part of you wants to scream.

"May I present to you my dearest subjects, the doe who won against all odds. They prey who vanquished the beasts. Your new desirable," Snow bellows your name with a venom that makes you fear vomiting right then and there. You weren't a Victor, you weren't a survivor, you weren't even considered a human anymore. You were a product. You were a doe staring down the maw of a starving wolf.

You were nothing.

Mechanical shutters fill your ears as flashes blind your vision. You’re supposed to be smiling. Things will get worse if you don’t smile. But all you can feel is the bile rising in your throat and your leaden tongue refusing to move. The sickly scent of roses invades your senses as gloved hands pat your trembling ones that grip the President’s suit jacket like a vice. You don’t dare move an inch.

There are two things you've learned to despise since surviving The Games.

1. Liars

2. President Coriolanus Snow

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