#maybe I should out MAG down for now...

[itsgrimeytime]

feelin' flirty || Rick Grimes (TWD) x gn!reader

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker @zomb-1-egutzz

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Summary: Being a long-lost friend of Maggie's, you wind up at the prison, a line of dead walkers behind you. You are promptly confronted with one Rick Grimes, and it's suddenly your life's goal to flirt with him as much as you can. Rick doesn't usually respond, but what if one day he does?

TWs: innuendos, talk of sex, shameless (and I mean shameless) flirting, mention of both Beth and Hershel's deaths, gunshot wound, blood, guns, knives, and all things TWD.

[[A/N: Tumblr has deleted this THREE times. I am furious, hello??? Also, someone should've been hardcore flirting with Rick, I'll say it. That's what this is based on. Do I have social anxiety? Yes, but am I still writing this? I am. Don't ask questions. ALSO, I do not know the TWD timeline at all, so I am making it up, thank you. Enjoy :))) ]]

With one last stab, you finished off the last... zombie? You didn't really call them anything, since you were alone. Maybe you should think about that a little more.

Wordlessly, you turned and stabbed another square in the head. Undead? No. Zombie? No, too cliché-

Another one.

It went on like that for a few more minutes, before you took a breath -with no answer to your question. Frowning at your knife being covered in... guts, for lack of a better word, you crouched down and wiped it on the grass.

What was that, 15? You didn't really count, but you should have. You were trying to get a new personal best actually-

"Hey!"

You froze, pocketing your knife, before spinning on your heel. The voice was fairly distant, so you weren't worried. Instead, close enough for it to matter, was a big building with high walls and barbed wire at the top of them. A prison. Huh.

"Up here!" The voice called again, and you startled.

Shading your eyes from the sun, you looked up into the watchtower, and sure enough, there was a silhouette. A guy, you think, with dark hair. That was about all you could say.

"Yeah?" You called back, curiously.

"That was cool as shit!"

You laughed out, probably for the first time in months, "Thank you, mysterious stranger!"

"Glenn!" He clarified.

Huh, you pursed your lips, before responding, "Y/N!"

"Nice to meet you!"

You laughed again, before feeling a pain in your stomach. When was the last time you'd eaten? You paused, trying to think. Three days ago (there was a box of Twinkies that hadn't expired yet in a stranded supermarket). Not great.

"Hey, Glenn?" You yelled, a little hopeful.

"Yeah?"

You pursed your lips, before deciding -taking a chance, really, "You got any food in there?"

Now, you were walking through the gate, which was a little dramatic. But, you kinda liked it. It felt like you were kind of a big deal, well, until there was a swarm of eyes on you. All different kinds.

You froze, licking across your teeth.

And then, a man ran up to your side -gasping a little. Was that Glenn? How did he-

He offered his hand to shake, and you accepted it -looking at the crowd, a little defensively.

"Are they going to kill me? Or...?"

"Shit," he turned to them, "-They just want some food, guys, c'mon!"

None of them even flinched.

"I don't bite," you joked, before frowning, "-shit. That was in bad taste-"

And then, a voice called out into the tense air.

"Y/N?"

You peeked over heads, looking, because-

Your eyes locked onto hers, and you nearly jumped in place -big smile blooming along your lips, "Holy shit, Mags?!"

You'd been friends, back in high school. You'd left junior year and tried to keep in touch. It just didn't work out. (You can't even remember now if it was her or you who stopped, at this point.)

Before she could so much as reply, you ran to her -arms wide open. She eagerly reciprocated, spinning a little with the force -you'd gotten pretty good at running at this point.

"What the fuck?" You breathed into her shoulder, and she laughed big and loud, "-What are the chances?"

With a thought, you pulled back -still holding her shoulders, "Are your Dad and Beth here?"

"Yeah," she cheered, and something in you felt relieved. Thank god, they were okay.

"And, you?" She offered, a little hesitantly -notable lack at your side.

You pressed your lips together, swallowing, and shook your head, "Been alone since the beginning."

Maggie frowned, hand coming up to rest on your arm and squeezing once.

"Only lived with my boyfriend," you explained, eager to lighten the mood, "-and he actually cheated on me, so. Wasn't the worst lost."

She laughed a little, before asking -carefully, "And your family?"

Something in your chest stung, you wordlessly shook your head. (Visions of unhinged jaws and blood filling it.)

She frowned, whispering her apologies before hugging you again. You leaned into it that time.

And then, you jumped back, excited, "You have to bring me to your family, Mags, it's been so long-"

"Ya 'ave to talk to Rick first," a voice grumbled out behind you.

You spun on your heel, facing a man. Tall, brunette, dark eyes, arms crossed in front of him (strong, you noted), but you could tell in his stance. He was a layer of stone walls, and you did not want to mine.

And then, your eyes smoothed across his back. Is that a fucking crossbow? Sick.

"Whose Rick?" You asked instead, Maggie still holding your arm.

"Whose askin'?"

That, was a good voice. Was your first thought as you turned back around, and your eyes landed on a figure.

Your voice got stuck in your throat.

He was tall, stood like he owned the place (and based on the recommendation, maybe he did), all broad shoulders and strong gaze. Speaking of gaze, he had probably the bluest eyes you'd ever seen. And his hair was brown and curly, a few hung forward on his face. His jaw was unspeakable, and his button-up shirt had a few extra buttons undone to account for the heat. Holy shit.

Maggie elbowed you, and you blinked.

"Uh, me," you answered, clearing your throat -motioning to Glenn, "-he said you had some food and I'm... hungry."

Maggie promptly stomped on your toe. You pressed your lips together trying not to laugh, carefully looking over his face to see if he'd picked up on it at all. Nothing. A shame, really.

Oh well, maybe next time.

"Look, Rick," she interrupted your thoughts, "-I know 'em, really well. Y/N is a good person."

Rick's eyes dipped to you, looking you over. Oh, the words were right there on the tip of your tongue. It would be so easy-

You're trying to survive, Y/N, your mind pressed, focus.

You bit at your lip, but before you could speak for yourself, Glenn did.

"I saw 'em take on a swarm outside," he added, eyes darting to Maggie (Huh.), "-without breaking a sweat."

There are other things I can do without breaking a sweat, your brain immediately remarked, this really was too easy.

Rick seemed to think about it a second, before turning to you, "Ya got a gun?"

I'd like to be loaded with-

"No," you cleared your throat, pulling out your knife (it was one of those multicolored ones, it's why you liked it clean), "-just this."

He hummed, tilting his head with a mouth shrug, "'At's impressive."

I bet your-

You pinched your arm, swallowing, "So, what? Am I in or not?"

Rick's eyes flicked up and down you again (so easy), before he decided, "Ya can stay."

That brings you to now, sitting with Maggie outside with a can of baked beans and a spoon in your hands.

You currently had quite the view of Rick working on the farm, sweat dripping down his brow, strained arms. You'd never thought about farming in that way, but now you were.

"Is his full name Richard?" You asked, curiously.

Maggie turned to you, watching the trail of your eyes to see what you were looking at. She rolled her eyes, "I don't know."

You put a spoonful into your mouth, humming around it, "There's a reason they call them 'Dick', you know."

"Oh my god," she shoved into you -making you laugh a little. You stared down into your can.

"I'm just saying," you stressed, "-he's hot enough for it."

Maggie paused a second, before deciding to say, "His wife died."

"Shit," your smile fell.

"Died in childbirth," she continued, something distant in her eyes -you wondered what exactly it was.

"How long ago?" You asked gently, looking at him in a new light -sympathizing.

"Few months," she answered, a little shortly. You pursed your lips, debating whether to say anything. Or if you even should.

Maggie clarified, herself, "I delivered the baby. Judith, her name is Judith."

"Fuck, Mags," you fully turned to her, putting the can by your feet, "-I'm so sorry."

She took a deep breath in and out, and you wrapped an arm around her shoulders pushing her into your side, "Thanks."

"No problem," you hummed, picking your can back up and letting your eyes drift to Rick again, adding, "-I'm great with babies, you know."

"You're ridiculous," she laughed, taking the bite you offered her.

"What?" You asked, "-Staring isn't bad. He's practically a piece of art, I'm just..."

He turned to the two of you then, blue eyes flickering along your faces -you did not move your gaze at all.

Instead, you gently waved, finishing, "-admiring him."

Rick furrowed his eyebrows for a second, waving back, and then, shaking his head smiling. Count that as a win.

You gnawed at your lip a second, "Do you think he picked up on my 'hungry' thing? I was looking at him and I-"

Maggie laughed, "He definitely did. Everyone did, Y/N, you're shameless."

"It's the apocalypse," you urged, "-who gives a fuck about shame anymore? Rick is hot, and as long as he lets me, I will flirt with him. The more you resist, the more I commit. You remember James in first period?"

She hummed, "I do."

"I chased him for half a year," you continued, swirling the spoon around the can, "-and it worked, didn't it? Guys hardly get properly flattered," your eyes dipped back to him, tone going low, "-I don't mind taking on that duty for the population."

Maggie laughed again, as you just kept your eyes on him. He had dirt on his hands now, wiping at his brow, and just a few curls hung forward on his forehead. God, how did you find him in the apocalypse?

"How valiant," she deadpanned, "-You're a real hero."

"Look, just because you have a type, Glenn, and you bagged him-"

"How did you-"

"Please," you teased, "-he practically ate you earlier with his eyes. Back to my point, I, at least, get to look."

She turned to you, "Ya don't want to date him?"

"Who said that, Mags?" You smirked, turning to her with a smile with eyes that spoke for themselves.

"You know he has kids, right?" She questioned, looking at you.

"So?" you waved the spoon around in your hand, "-Single dads? Hot. Kids? Cute. Where's the loss?"

Maggie looked at you a moment, before shaking her head, "You are clinically insane."

"Maybe," you offered, still watching him, "-but the world's fucked up too. So, at least, I'm not alone."

She laughed really hard at that one, and you felt eyes all over switch to you. Blue ones too. People didn't really seem to laugh around here, so you decided that was your mission too, get people to laugh more. Maybe they could go hand-in-hand.

Time to get to work.

Daryl was sitting across from you, you'd been bugging him for the past few weeks and he'd finally relented. It wasn't easy, but you were nothing if not persistent (hence the Rick situation). Or maybe stubborn. Both? Whatever.

"Daryl, listen," you pointed out, "-you have to take time to load up the bow."

"'At don't mean nothin'," he countered.

"It does," you stressed, explaining, "-in the amount of time it takes you to put in a new arrow, I would have killed at least two."

Daryl rolled his eyes, "It doesn't take 'at long."

"Who said it takes me long to kill two walkers?"

Rick walked by then, and Daryl stopped him.

"Rick, please, take 'em away from me," he spoke out, gruff, but something in you could tell that he wasn't being serious. The guy wasn't half the mystery you expected him to be.

Rick laughed a little at the plea, eyes on you, "What are ya doin' to him?"

"It's not that bad," you laughed, explaining, "-I was just talking about if we were pit against each other to kill the most walkers in a minute. And who would win."

"An' ya want me to help decide?"

"Daryl does," you clarified, "-I am fully confident in my abilities."

Rick laughed a little (another win), "Well, I kno' Daryl's skills, so tell me yours, so it's even."

You bit at your lip, debating. God, it would be so easy. All you had to do was-

"Well," you smiled, playfully, "-I'm told I'm very good with my hands."

He blinked, and it was silent a moment before you heard a snort beside you. You immediately flung to look at him, you had just made Daryl laugh-

"No way," you stressed out, throwing yourself to your feet -pointing at him, "-you just laughed at me."

Daryl pressed his lips together into a thin line, sniffing once, "No, I didn't."

You spun to Rick, and he was already looking at you, you didn't think about it too much.

"Rick," you begged, "-c'mon. I know you and him are like... buddies, but I-"

"Buddies?" He quirked a brow, smiling. Something stirred in your stomach.

"Look, I don't fucking know," you rolled your eyes, "-just agree with me."

He bit down a smile at you, before turning to Daryl, "Ya did laugh at 'em."

"Ha," you cheered, "-I made Daryl Dixon laugh. And, I would win against you."

"He didn't say 'at," Daryl instantly defended.

"Didn't have to, Dixon," you mocked, playfully, "-it's about time management."

"Time management?" Rick questioned curiously.

"Okay, think of this, Rick," you explained, leveling him with your full focus (god he was handsome), "-when you fight with a bow, or a gun for that matter, you have to reload."

He grinned a little at you.

"Follow me, follow me," you hummed, pulling out your knife, "-when you have a physical sort of attack method, like a knife, you don't have that same time issue."

"Ya kinda do though," he interjected.

You paused, looking at him -thoughtfully, "How so?"

"Body's gotta build up energy again," he reasoned (with too much thought for this dumb conversation, smart too? god has favorites), "-Stamina is key to attackin'."

You rolled your lip in between your teeth, he had to be doing this on purpose at this point. Seriously.

"Trust me, sheriff," you spoke -a teeny bit teasing but otherwise very genuine, "-there is no problem with my stamina."

Rick bit back a laugh, turning his head to the side and smiling. You thought you saw a little red on the tips of his ears. Cute. You were unraveling the layers of one Rick Grimes, that was progress.

Daryl didn't even try to hide it that time, letting a gruff chuckle leave his lips, "'M glad I'm not your focus for 'at."

You patted his shoulder, standing up, "It'll be devastating one day, Robin Hood. Don't come crying to me when it is."

"Did ya just call me Robin Hood?"

Rick laughed at that one, head tilting up to the sky. You smiled wide.

"Look at that," you hummed, proud, "-a two for one. Which-"

They both looked at you, but you stuck to your guns. And you smirked a little.

"-honestly, I would not mind," you added -thoughtfully, "-Think about it, and get back to me."

You walked backward a few steps, watching as Rick smiled at you before turning back to fix his gaze on Daryl. Smiling at the ground, you spun on your heel, and went off to find someone else to pester.

You felt a pair of eyes follow you though, and you maybe grinned a little brighter.

Now, you were wandering off on your own. On your own run, you liked to do that sometimes. Maggie nearly had a heart attack because of it, but what damage you did get was usually minor. Except for once, but that wasn't your fault. Well it was, you smashed a window with your fist to see if you could do it. And you could, which was impressive.

Now, you were strolling through an old novelty store -little knick-knacks. Finding some figurines, you grabbed a superhero one and stashed it away. Your eyes caught on a DVD player, the kind for both music and movies, and you picked it up -turning it over in your hands. Battery powered.

On a mission to find both DVDs and some batteries, you roamed through some aisles -particularly a mug one.

Peeking through at some of them, you paused. Taking your pack off and slipping the DVD player into it (along with the few good DVDs you found, no batteries though) on top of some canned food you'd found, you zipped it up. And with a breath, grabbed a mug.

Smiling big, you made your way out of the store.

When you got back to the prison, Maggie was waiting for you -tapping her feet, anxiously. She was a little like a mother, you weren't sure how you felt about it. But you loved her so, you dealt with it.

"Hey Mags," you cheered, mug handle twisted between your fingers.

She instantly relaxed, eyes scanning you over before dropping to the mug. She frowned.

"Please, tell me-"

"I got some food," you sighed, "-I'm not entirely useless."

She pursed her lips, "And the mug?"

You grinned, holding it up for her to see -tapping your fingers along both sides. Her eyes skimmed over it before she frowned (biting back a smile, you could tell).

"Seriously?" She asked.

"What?" You responded, groaning, "-I can't get gifts?"

She shoved into your side, and before you could take too many steps, you were met with your target -leaning against the fence, few steps from Maggie. Was he waiting for you too?

"Rick," you dropping your hands, particularly to avoid him from reading the text, "-what are you doing here?"

"Ya do 'at a lot?" He asked, a little pointedly. You thought you recognized something a little like worry in it, "-Go off on your own?"

Huh.

"Yeah," you laughed a little, "-you haven't noticed? I've been getting like... half the food we have."

Rick hummed (a little in appreciation) before his eyes dropped to your hands, "And what's 'at?"

"A gift," you extended it to him, unflinchingly.

He pulled himself from his spot on the wall, walking forward and accepting it. His fingers (great fingers, really. Was that weird to say?) wrapping around it, you noticed for a second that your fingers brushed -your breath halted a little in place.

"A mug?" He asked looking at you for a second, eyebrows furrowed.

You took your hand, and spun it around in his hands -brushing his skin against yours, "The other side."

He smiled a little, laughing.

Right there on a rather plain mug, were the words '#1 HOT DAD'.

He bit back a smile, eyes peeking up at you again, "Ya really ain't gonna let 'is go, are ya?"

"Nope," you popped the 'p', before clarifying, "-unless you want me to."

Rick licked a line against his teeth, grinning a little with something in his eye, "Who said 'at?"

"Noted," you smiled back, something fluttering in your chest, "-now, where's Carl? I got him something good."

"Ya got him somethin' too?"

He was looking at you a little curiously, like he was seeing new layers of you. You kind of wanted to squirm a little at his gaze. You were not used to people figuring you out.

You sighed, quickly turning your pack to the front and unzipping it. With a breath, you dug around and pulled out the figurine -Rick's eyes caught on it immediately. A small smile creeping along his mouth.

"He told me once he liked comics," you clarified, clearing your throat, "-figured he would like this. You... You think he will?"

"He'll love it," he answered, something new in his eyes, "-C'mon, I'll take ya to him."

On the way there, he seemed to pause a moment, something on his mind. You patiently waited for him to say it.

"'Saw somethin' else in 'ere," he mindlessly remarked, as the mug swung between his fingers "-What is it?"

"Oh," you pulled your pack foward again, excited, extending the figurine to him for safekeeping (he took it with a smile), "-a DVD player."

You held it in your hands, showing to him.

"Found some DVDs, good ones," you continued, before putting it back in your bag, and accepting the figurine back (your fingers brushed again), "-no batteries though."

Rick hummed, pursing his lips like he was thinking about something. He didn't say a word though.

You didn't have much time to think about it, because a few days after that, the prison fell. You'd escaped with Rick and Carl, but you weren't exactly yourself. Not after everything.

There was Judith, and Maggie, and... and Beth and Hershel. Every day felt like there was bile turning in your stomach; every time you closed your eyes, you saw someone... someone dead.

You were lying against the grass, looking up at the stars -it was still so pretty. Despite it all, the sky was still the same. Bright and twinkly. It was when everyone was on the road, wandering for a place to go. You just couldn't sleep, so you took it upon yourself to just look at the sky. You thought the clouds might be pretty, but the night was a little breathtaking.

"Ya awake?"

You didn't say a word.

"C'mon, Y/N, I know ya are."

"Yeah, I am," you sighed, saying shortly, "-Can't sleep."

There was an echo of footsteps, and then you felt body heat beside you. There was a beat.

"Ya ain't gonna say anythin'?" Rick hummed, turning his head to face you.

You matched his eyes (he's probably more handsome now, honestly), "About what?"

"Me, ya know," he motioned, to your side, "-layin' with ya."

You laughed at him a little, before teasing, "Awe, you miss it, don't you, sheriff?"

"Not a sheriff anymore," he hummed, something a little heavy in his voice.

"Eh," you shrugged, looking back to the stars, "-you still are in my mind."

Rick smiled at you, wordlessly.

Before you added, plainly, "Mostly because I love a man in uniform."

He laughed then, big and bright, and you felt something warm in your chest that you knew but hadn't felt in a while.

You wanted to be genuine, really genuine.

"You are a good man, Rick," you turned to look at him, and he looked straight back, "-We've all done shit we never should've, and maybe it's fucked us up a little bit, moved our path in the wrong direction once or twice, but-"

You looked back up to the sky, still feeling his eyes on you. It was kind of like a dream, like the apocalypse wasn't real for a second, just you and Rick. And maybe you wanted that a lot more than you knew.

"-you've got a big heart, Rick," you finished, soundly, "-And even if sometimes you lose sight of what you're doing, or maybe who you are, that... that doesn't change."

Rick didn't say anything for a moment, words echoing out into the night air. You couldn't find it in yourself to regret them, though. You never really regret what you said these days, there was no reason too.

You really only regret what you didn't say. Maybe to people who aren't around anymore. Your heart sunk a little in your chest, but it felt a little lighter -just a smidgen. (Maybe because of who you were with.)

"I got somethin' for ya," Rick suddenly spoke, sitting up (you followed suit).

You furrowed your eyebrows, "You got me something? When?"

Mindlessly, he replied, "On the last run."

You pursed your lips but waited patiently. He moved over to his pack, unzipping one of his pockets and pulling something out -you couldn't quite see. Trying to peek you moved over a little, but nothing.

With a breath, he stood back up and waltzed over to you (somehow he made walking hot, they needed to research that), extending it forward right into your face.

You blinked, gently taking it into your hands and looking at it closely. It was dark so you couldn't really-

Batteries. He handed you a pack of AA batteries.

"No way," you laughed out, "-you remembered that?"

"I remember a lot of what ya say," he offered casually, and you felt something shoot down your spine. And with a breath, he sat right beside you, so close your knees bumped a little.

Pulling your bag over to you, you dug around in it. You'd kept the DVD player and DVDs, not really with the hope of finding batteries. But, to feel a little human, remember life before.

You'd taken to putting stickers on it when you saw any, so the top of it was covered in an assortment. You ran your fingers over it a second, taking it in, before flipping it over. Popping open the little tab, you let out a breath of relief when it was AAs.

Rick laughed.

"I was going to be so pissed if it wasn't," you spoke, "-you have no idea."

He just looked at you then, in a way you'd seen before but never really thought about. You turned back to your bag, shuffling around to find your stash.

"You want music or a movie?"

"Movie's fine," he hummed, and you still felt his eyes trained solely on you. You tried to shake it off.

"Let's see," you pulled out a few of the movies you had, showing them to Rick, "-I've got... a kid's animated movie, or... a... cheesy romcom!"

Rick stared at you, instead of the movies, before flickering to them.

Rambling, you continued, "I also picked up some horror stuff, but I... I really think that was a bad move on my part."

He laughed again, just looking at you in a way you didn't really know how to label. Or react to. You were kind of a little overwhelmed at the fact that he'd even gotten you the batteries, and then the way he was looking at you-

"Think romcom sounds good," he interrupted your thoughts, scanning over you.

"Alright," you acknowledged, putting the other ones up, and scooting back next to him -not enough to touch. It was a little awkward and you weren't sure how you were going to-

"I don't bite ya know," he quipped, laughing a little.

You turned to him, grinning, "Well maybe I do."

Rick laughed again for a moment, just looking at you. And then he extended out an arm, welcoming you into his side.

You paused a moment, before carefully guiding yourself to slot into him; the back of your head against his shoulder, and his arm wrapped around the back of your shoulders. You brought your knees up, to carefully balance the DVD player (shaped like a little laptop really). A tiny little screen for the two of you to see on. Logistically, that's why you were so close but a part of you thought a little otherwise.

"I don't," you hummed.

"What?"

"I don't bite."

He laughed a little, "Good."

"Unless you want me to-"

And the laughter that filled the night was just between you and him. And maybe in the morning, you were fast asleep on his shoulder and maybe he looked at you a little like you were the greatest thing he'd ever seen and maybe he shushed all the others just to have the moment last even a second longer.

You'd never really know.

Now, you were in Alexandria. You'd gotten Maggie back, you'd gotten Judith back. You were on a new high, and that meant two things. More pestering, and two, flirting with Rick.

You were walking through Alexandria with Maggie, just keeping her on her feet really. She wasn't super pregnant yet, and it was good to be healthy.

"I cannot believe you're pregnant," you mindlessly remarked, holding Judith close to your side.

"I have been," she retorted, "-for a while. Think ya have had time to digest it."

"But, it's like physical proof that you fucked," you commented, "-unprotected, by the way. I know you missed that sex-ed day, but seriously-"

"Carl's proof that Rick fucked," Maggie defended, eyes smoothing over him with a few of his friends.

"Well," you pursed your lips, "-I know that Rick fucked. Just on principle, he's-"

She motioned for you to zip it, "Don't start. I know you are doin' good, which is great. But it also means ya become a lil' unbearable."

"Me? Unbearable?" You turned to Judith, cooing a little, "-Can you believe the nerve of her, Jude?"

Judith smiled at you with her big brown eyes and toothless little mouth. You pinched her cheek, instinctively, "So cute."

"I still can't believe that you're in love with Ri-"

"I told you that in confidence," you interrupted, pointed.

Maggie stuck out her tongue at you and Judith laughed a little at it. Funny faces, right. You could physically see the pregnancy hormones on her face as she cooed at Judith.

You would've said something, but you had just done it yourself.

"Where's your keeper anyway?" You hummed like you'd been stuck with her (you actively searched her out).

"'E's not my keeper," she responded, sternly (mom voice, already?), "-and he's out on run, gettin' supplies."

"If he's not your keeper, how'd you know who I was talking about?"

"You are so-"

Before she could finish such a kind sentence, the two of you were interrupted. A presence waltzing up to your side.

You turned to look who, and-

Your heart lept into your throat. It was Rick, now clean-shaven, and although, you had loved the beard (don't even get you started), his jaw was on full display. Blue, blue eyes. And dipping to his clothes, he was in a damn uniform.

"Look at you, Rick," you complimented, smiling.

"'Heard ya liked a man in uniform," he smiled (a new type of way), and winked. And before you could say a word, he walked forward -past you.

You stuttered to a stop, Maggie right beside you. Blinking you turned to her, and she looked right back at you. And then you both turned to look at Rick, still walking the same way he was.

Turning back forward, you opened your mouth, "Sorry, did that just happen?"

Maggie hummed, pulling you with her, "It did."

"How did I never think of that?"

"Think of what?" She offered, as you smoothed back into a step with her.

You answered, eyebrows furrowing, "That he might flirt back."

She shrugged, "If it helps, I never thought he would."

"I am not against shoving a pregnant woman," you hissed back, with no bite. You never really had any. And you both broke into laughter, as you roamed through Alexandria.

Now, Daryl was leaning against a house as you stood beside him -pestering as always.

"No, listen," you turned to him, attentively, "-it's called fuck, marry, kill-"

"I ain't playing it with ya."

"C'mon, Daryl, it's fun, look-" you flagged down Glenn (who was carrying a box, of what, who knows?), "-Glenn, fuck, marry, kill. Michonne, Carol, and Daryl."

"Easy," he laughed, "-fuck Michonne, marry Carol, and sorry, dude, but kill Daryl."

"See?" You motioned to Glenn, as he walked forward.

"Don't ya 'ave a wife?" Daryl remarked, as Glenn moved along.

"Oh please," you shook your hand dismissively, "-it's all just fun. Just hypothetical scenarios."

"Okay, now," you started over, "-fuck, marry, kill. Deanna-"

"Kill," he answered -unflinchingly.

"See!" you cheered, "-you're getting the hang of it-"

"What are the two of ya doin'?"

You turned to see the one and only Rick Grimes, a little more worn today, which you kind of preferred, still had those bandaids on (how did he make that look hot?), and more casually dressed. In the white t-shirt, we trust.

"I'm teaching Daryl how to play fuck, marry, kill," you answered, eyes solid on him, "-obviously."

Before he could respond, Daryl chimed up, something mischievous in his eyes. You squinted at him, trying to figure it out. And then he opened his mouth.

"I got one," he spoke, a smile teasing on his lips (looking at Rick, directly), "-Y/N, Glenn, and Rosita."

You stared at the eye contact for a moment (everything was so suspicious), before asking, "What am I supposed to do with myself?"

Daryl shrugged, you bit your lip a second.

"I guess I could kill myself, big waste, but-" you paused, "-ooh, wait, I could, like, clone situation fuck myself-"

"Now, 'at would be a sight to see," a low southern drawl interrupted your words, and your voice faltered to a stop.

You turned to him, squinting at him for a second -trying to understand. All he did was wink at you again, and you hated that it made your knees a little wobbly. Especially when he was holding onto the column of the porch, and slightly leaning toward you-

"Before I was so rudely interrupted," you cleared your throat, "-I would marry Glenn, fuck Rosita, and, tragically, kill myself."

Daryl nodded his head, before motioning to Rick, "What 'bout ya?"

"Am I playin'?" He questioned, finger pointing to himself and eyes dashing to you.

"Might as well," you shrugged, "-you're already over here."

He pursed his lips a second like he was thinking, eyes particularly avoiding you, "An' I can't choose one person for two of 'em?"

You swallowed, oh, he was playing dirty.

"Nope," Daryl answered.

And then, he turned into something much softer, something more familiar, "Then, marry Y/N, fuck Rosita, and kill Glenn."

Marry?

Your heart lept into your throat, and your fingers started fidgeting with your shirt -instinctively. How the hell was he winning? I started this game-

"Thought so," Daryl responded.

And out of the corner of your eye, you saw Carol. Her eyes matched yours a second, and you tried to convey how desperate you were to get away from this very scene. Her eyebrows furrowed for a second, but then she spoke.

"Hey, Y/N! Can you come help me with the food?"

"Of course, Carol," you called back, smiling at the two of them, "-sorry, duty calls."

Rick just grinned at you then, like he knew exactly what you were doing. And you were 100% sure he did. Stupid handsome men with stupidly beautiful blue eyes. Ignoring the fact that you physically brushed against him to get off the porch, you frantically caught up to Carol.

You were in the pantry now, gathering ingredients, Carol directing you -naming them as she found them.

"So," she looked at you, "-are you gonna tell me what that was about?"

You pursed your lips, before answering, "Rick's flirting back with me."

Carol raised her eyebrows at you, "Huh."

"And I was teaching Daryl how to play fuck, marry, kill, and he-" you rapted your fingernails along one of the cans, "-and he said he'd marry me. But all... genuine and shit."

"And that's bad?"

"No, no," you shook your head, putting the can into a basket, "-It's not bad. Just... I don't know if he means it."

"You just said that he said it genuinely," Carol pointed out, grabbing another can.

"Well yeah, but-" you scrambled a moment, "-all that time ago, I was flirting genuinely. I mean even though it was playful, it was still genuine."

"And," she connected the dots, "-you're not sure if he's genuine?"

"Yeah," you skimmed along the shelves, gathering the last can she needed.

"Well," she took it from your hand, blue eyes on you softly, "-if it's worth anything, I think he's genuine. And maybe this is his way of showing how he feels about you."

You hummed, wordlessly.

"He's let you flirt with him this long," she continued, bringing a hand up to your shoulder, "-that has to mean something, doesn’t it?"

She had a point.

"Now," she adjusted the basket, "-are you actually going to help me with the food? Or was it just an excuse to run away from Rick?"

You laughed, "I'll help, I'll help. I'm not a total dick. Speaking of-"

She turned to you.

"Do you know if Rick's full name is Richard?"

It was a few weeks later, and they were filled with frustratingly blue winks. And that was one thing, but now you were being stupid. You were stupid.

You'd thought Oh, it'll be just like old times, I'll go out on a run. It'll be so nice-

And now you were walking with a gunshot would, quickly bandaged by a rip of your t-shirt and whatever you had around you. Which in whatever the hell store it was, was not a lot. All you'd managed to find was alcohol so you at least soaked the shirt.

You'd blearily walked all the way home, eyes foggy, and praying that a walker wouldn't come near you. And now you saw it, Alexandria.

"Gabriel," you called, breathlessly, "-Gabriel, please let me in."

You heard him say something but you were delirious. Maybe something with your name? Head fuzzy and eyes bleary, you were coming down from the high of getting somewhere safe. As you waltzed into Alexandria (pain in the abdomen so hot it almost felt numbing), there was a swarm of people around you immediately. Felt like you were back in the prison, when Maggie would be waiting and you think she was now.

"Hey, hey," she chanted, grabbing your face (and you could see her now), "-look at me, Y/N, tell me what the hell happened."

"Some guy, the bitch," you muttered out, a little slurred you think, "-just shot me, because he wanted the last of the damn Campbell soup, who shoots someone for Campbell soup?"

Her eyes dropped to your body, you mindlessly noted that it was sticky. Your eyes dropped too, and saw all the red -so much red.

"I think I lost a lot of blood, Mags."

"Somebody go get Rick, and the doctor, now," she shouted (loud, loud), before turning back to you, "-How the hell did you get here?"

"I walked," you answered simply.

"You walked?" She responded, hands on your shoulders, "-How did you-"

You were safe now, and everything in your body just gave out.

"Adrenaline is a hell of a drug," you hummed, laughing a little, before falling to the ground.

Your head stung from the ground, as Maggie tried to get down by your side -all pregnant belly.

"'S okay, Mags, don't-" you mumbled "-don't hurt yourself."

She frowned, and you thought she might have tears in her eyes, "I have to stay with you, Y/N, whose going to keep you awake-"

"Glenn," you called, and you saw him saunter up to your side, a little slurred, "-take care of 'er, help her sit. Don't worry, Mags, don't worry-"

You heard a slap of footsteps then, quick and brisk, and before you could wonder who, blue eyes and rough hands were guiding your face. He was starting to grow his stubble back, you mindlessly noted.

"Rick," you smiled a little fuzzily, reaching up and patting his face, "-See Mags, Rick'll take care of me."

"Hey, hey," he brought your focus to him, "-keep lookin' at me, okay?"

"Well," you slurred a little, "-'at's not very hard, sheriff."

He turned to the crowd then, voice low and gruff, "What the hell happened?"

You heard Maggie respond then, through sobs, "'Ey said that some guy shot 'em, over a... over some food."

"Didn't even ask if he could have 'em, first. Who does that-"

"Daryl," he motioned -tone low, and he immediately nodded. You watched him leave your eyesight.

Rick instead, brought your face back to him, as you recognized the doctor to be by your side, scrambling with some white stuff.

"Hey, hey, baby," he spoke, low in a whisper, "-I'm 'ere, focus on me. Look at me."

You smiled again, delirious, "You called me baby, that feels nice. Everythin' else burns-"

"I kno', I kno'," he soothed, you felt pressure on your abdomen (hissing in pain, as your eyes got more blurry), "-ya did a good job gettin' back 'ere. To where you're safe. Ya did a good job."

"Just kept walking," you slurred, "-couldn't stop. Wasn't gonna die to some asshole."

Rick laughed then a little, and you felt something a little different than pain. Your hands naturally came to his face, mindlessly rubbing your thumbs against his cheekbones. He's always been so handsome, only gets better with time.

You noticed he leaned into it a little, careful not to hurt you. Yeah, you realized, he was genuine.

God, what if you had missed out on this, with Rick? All because of some stupid can of soup-

"Rick," you started, and he looked at you a little like you held the world, you were the world maybe, "-I think I'm gonna die."

"You're not, no-" he held his hand over yours (it was so warm. Why had you never held his hand?), "-You're not gonna die, baby. You're gonna be fine."

"I'm bleeding," you breathed out, scanning over him, "-Been bleeding the whole time. You're not supposed to bleed that much, Rick."

"Ya ain't gonna die," he repeated, hands gathering your face, "-Look at me, ya ain't dyin'."

Concern clear on his face, you felt the urge to soothe, soothe, soothe-

You looked at him, eyes scanning over his face. He was handsome, yeah, but he was caring, smart, and so, so kind. You wanted to tell him that, see what he'd say. What he'd do.

"'Said that you were a good man, 'at you have a big heart," you hummed, eyes languidly blinking, "-still mean it. Don't you forget it."

He looked at you for a second, eyes flicking all over your face, before looking to the doctor. She must've said something (your ears felt stuffy) because then Rick was picking you up. He was everywhere, smell, sight. All you could feel was Rick, body heat thrumming and blooming into your side.

"Always knew you were strong," you mindlessly remarked.

You felt Rick laugh in his chest, and your eyelids were so heavy then. You slowly began blinking, your brain slowing down. Maybe you could close your eyes just for a little bit.

"Got so much to say to ya."

And then, it all faded to black.

This blanket is scratchy as hell, you mindlessly remarked. It was almost like a thin sheet, barely coating you, and you think if you moved your arms, it would make that noise that shitty bedsheets did. Why were hospital beds so bad? Shouldn't they be comfortable?

And then your nose was hit with the heavy sterilized air. You scrunched your nose up on instinct, it made your throat burn-

"Y/N? Darlin'?"

You slowly blinked your eyes open, heavy and languid; they always had those florescent lights too. How was that helpful?

"'S too fucking bright in here."

You heard him laugh a little, maybe in relief mostly, and you blearily blinked to get a look at him.

"'D turn it down for ya if I could."

You laughed a little and squinted your eyes open, laying gently on him. He looked a little worse for wear, his hair messy and shirt a little crooked. You wanted to fix his curls back in place, and your hand moved before you could stop it.

Gently, you threaded his hair back. He was a breath away from where you laid, so it wasn't too far of a reach.

Rick looked at you so softly, that the words cut off your from your lips. And with a breath, he pulled your hand down from his hair, sliding it against his cheek. Before you could say a word about it, he turned his head and gently kissed your palm.

You bit at your lip, eyes flickering over him, "How long have you been here?"

"Since the doc' allowed me to be," he answered, fidgeting with your hand -not really wanting to let go, you guessed.

"And Mags?" You asked, concern flickering through your eyes, "-Are she and the baby okay?"

"Yeah," he looked at you, a little in disbelief, "-they're alright. She was stressed, yeah, but Glenn kept 'er calm."

"And," your eyes darted to your abdomen, where your wound now hid, "-the wound?"

"Good," he replied, eyes swimming over you like he couldn't quite believe you were okay, "-Doc' says ya just need to rest, not irritate the stitches. Which I kno' will be hard for ya."

You sighed, leaning your head back onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling, "I am going to be so bored."

Rick chuckled a little, before falling suspiciously quiet. You turned to him, just to see him looking down and fidgeting with your hand -a little like he was working on saying something. You simply waited.

"'Ve been looking for those batteries since ya said ya wanted 'em," he spoke, a little quietly.

You froze, "Since the prison?"

"Yeah," he offered, "-apparently 'ey're a hot commodity."

"Why?" You questioned, looking at him curiously, "-Why all that work for some batteries?"

"Because," he hummed simply, eyes matching yours now, "-ya wanted 'em."

You pushed your lips into a thin line, the glimmer of hope sparking in your chest. Not saying a word, you just stared at him for a second; not unlike in the early days, you were just admiring him for a lot more than his (still unbelievably handsome) face.

"Y/N, I-" he started, eyes dipping back down to your hands. He seemed to pause a moment, debating.

And then he looked up at you, eyes set in his path -unflinchingly. In a sort of understanding, like everything made sense to him now. The silence was heavy until he leaned forward and brushed his hand along your cheek -carefully. It made you feel precious, and your eyes maybe got a little cloudy because of it.

"I'm in love with ya," he let out a breath, tone heavy and genuine, "-an... and the way ya blatantly hit on me but in the damn most genuine type of way."

You laughed a little and leaned gently into his palm. He looked at you in a way you couldn't label then, or maybe you could (love), and rubbed his thumb along your cheekbone.

"I didn't know how to react to it, at first," he hummed, something settled in his eyes, "-the attention ya gave me. 'S somethin' I've never dealt with before."

"Really?" You let slip past your lips, and his grin grew wide as he let his head fall and shook it, smiling at the ground.

"Even now," he laughed a little, turning his gaze up again, "-ya always said thin's like it was so easy to do. Like ya were tellin' me 'at the sun was hot."

"You did give me some pretty good set ups," you clarified, smiling at him.

"'Never meant to," he added, grinning a little in wonder, "-I couldn't think straight when ya said 'em, so I'm surprised I even did."

You hummed, eyes twinkling at him and he looked at you just a little more like he was in love. It made a spark shoot down to your toes, warmth flooding your chest.

"If it's worth anything," you spoke, a little embarrassed, "-my brain stops working when you do the fond thing."

"The fond thing?"

"It's just," you sighed, trying to articulate, "-It's a way that you look at me, or... or smile at me. When you do the soft stuff."

"What exactly is-" he hummed, gently, holding your attention like your words really mattered, "-'the soft stuff'?"

"Uh," you blew a raspberry with your lips, "-like giving me the batteries, and... and that whole conversation actually."

"Oh," he laughed a little, blue eyes twinkling, "-like I was in love with ya."

"What? No, you weren't... not that early-"

And then you looked at him.

"Shit," you marveled, "-really?"

"Like I said," he smiled at you, a little like you were cute, "-I looked for those batteries for months. For ya. An'-"

His face got a little more serious.

"-I really missed ya. 'At was probably when I first realized it."

You rolled your lip inbetween your teeth, "Yeah?"

"Ya used to make everybody laugh, and were always smilin'-" he explained, "-it wasn't even just the flirtin', it was just... I knew ya were hurtin', an' I couldn't help. Or I... I didn't know what to do to help."

You just stared.

"An' I missed ya so desperately, I just-" he let out a breath, "-It all clicked into place, and I went on 'at run, hopin' to god there were batteries-"

You laughed a little weepily, leaning into his hand.

"-because I just wanted to make ya feel better. Bring ya back to me."

"How the hell did you even find them?" You questioned, wiping at your eyes, "-It couldn't have been that lucky."

"'Wasn't," he replied simply, "-I was only supposed to do a few stores, I did the whole strip."

"God, really?" You smiled, "-For batteries?"

"No," he hummed, simply, "-for ya."

You fell quiet.

"I would do anythin' for ya," he added, voice a little breathless, "-anythin'."

"Anything?"

Rick laughed a little, grin bright, "Ya need to rest, baby."

"That's not a no," you chimed, grinning.

He looked at you a certain type of way then, "'S definitely not a no."

You felt your heart pound in your chest for a moment. That was something to look forward to. Something stirred in your stomach.

"What?" He asked, teasing, "-Ya all bark and no bite, hmm?"

"If I wasn't bedridden," you spoke flatly, "-I would kick your ass."

"Ya would," he agreed.

And you laughed, eyes smoothing over his face. Before noticing something you hadn't quite said yet.

Words fell out of your lips, "Even though you probably already know, because I've chasing you all this time-"

He smiled at you.

"-I love you too," you finished, "-if it wasn't obvious."

"'Was kinda obvious," he leveled -teasing, but something was sparkling so bright in his eyes that you didn't really mind.

"Yeah, yeah," you moved your hand dismissively, "-don't start, sheriff."

You paused for a moment, eyes dancing along the room, "Do I get to go home today?"

"No," he spoke, with a certainty that shook through your bones (this man had literally everything), "-'Need to be taken care of, so ya are stayin' wit' me until you're healed."

You blinked at him, he was doing the fond thing again. Your mind relaxed to a low hum.

"Maybe after too," he added, tone softer but not any less certain, "-if ya want."

You stared at him, wordless.

Rick blinked, looking at you, before grinning, "'At the fond thing?"

"Yeah," you cleared your throat, embarrassed, "-I don't... It's been a long time since I've been cared for. At all. And you're a very handsome man offering to-"

"Not offerin'," he clarified, eyes set on yours, "-just doin'. 'Specially now, 'cause I kno' ya love me too."

All headstrong, decisive, and certain. How was this happening to you?

"'Thought you said it was obvious?"

"It was," he hummed, grinning at you, "-I could just barely wrap my head around ya flirtin' with me. Couldn't really see it."

You thought for a second, before speaking, "Was it Daryl?"

He grinned at you, tilting his head a little, "Maybe."

"Always knew he was a big softie," you hummed, "-read him like a book when we first met. Stone layers to an ooey-gooey center."

Rick scrunched up his nose, "Ooey-gooey center?"

"Sometimes," you sighed, "-Sometimes I say stupid shit around really attractive people. It's a habit."

"'Guess 'at means you're still gonna be flirting with me?"

"As long as you want me to, sheriff," you clarified.

"So maybe forever then," he grinned and you felt your heart leap into your chest (fuck his fond things). You were totally never getting over that.

"Yeah," you hummed in agreement, "-Maybe forever then."

Mission accomplished.

[hazbinhotelxreader]

Yandere Alastor x doe! Fem child reader

“Little Doe”

An: not a request but an idea I had while in school! I’m still rusty since it’s been like- 7 weeks since I last posted but I hope you enjoy!

Sorry if it’s bad! I am still rusty on writing and Alastor is difficult to write for

The great and powerful radio demon was taking his usual stroll around the streets of Pentagram city. As usual, demons were freaking out at his presence, some even taking pictures of him only to have their screens shut off. Alastor kept his usual smile as he walked, nodding at a few ladies he passed by, who giggled when he left. In the way to the hotel, he heard a bleat like noise, causing his ears to perk up.

Usually, he’s not sometime to go after someone who’s hurt, but he couldn’t ignore this one. It felt like an instinct. Even if he didn’t have those mother deer urges, he still had an instinct to protect the creature that made the bleat. He walked over to the area, came/microphone in hand and stopped at the scene, raising his brows, keeping his smile.

He saw four, shark like sinners picking on a young, fawn female. You. You were a young, small, maybe about 8 years old, and helpless in the grasps of the shark sinners. You had tears in your eyes, opened wounds from the attacks, bruises on you limbs. Alastors eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke up. ‘Why what seems to be going on here?” Alastor says in his normal cheery tone.

“None of your fucking business, now beat it” one of the shark sinners snarled, tugging on your deer ears. You let out a whimper, closing you eyes tight, you were scared, in pain, and so confused on why they were doing this.

Alastor let’s put an amused chuckle, and didn’t move from his spot. “Are you sure you want to do this? We can either do this the easy way, or the hard way. And trust me…” some green sparks rose around him, his voice more stadicky “you don’t want to choose the hard way”

The shark sinners seemed to get the message, letting go of the fawn, but still trying to act tough.” Yea-well. How do we know you’re tellin the truth? What if ya bluffing?”

Alastor let’s put a small ‘hmm’ sound and shrugged. “I suppose that is what one mag think, but I am not bluffing. I don’t tolerate fools like you harming a young lady.” Alastor informed and walked closer. “So I suggest you make your way out of here before I make you.”

The shark sinners looked at each other for a minute before scoffing and walking away. Alastors smile grew bigger, then he looked at your trembling form. “Now now my dear, don’t be afraid. I’m not here to cause you any harm.” He said with a happy tone “what might your name be Young lady?”

You muster up the courage to look at him, your innocent eyes averting from his “[n-name]” you say in a slightly shaky soft tone.

Alastor chuckled and spoke “[Name]? What a wonderful name little fawn.” He held his hand out for you to take “if you don’t already know me, I am Alastor. The pleasure is mine of meeting you” he said bright and loud. Which gave you slight reassurance. No one in hell is this happy, and that made you feel better when Alastor was happy. Alastor crouched down and checked your body for any wounds, which he found a few.

“It seems that you are injured! Why don’t you allow me to help heal you? The hotel is just a little ways” he offered. You know you shouldn’t say yes to strangers, especially not dangerous ones, but for some reason he seemed genuine, and comforting. The only smiling face in hell you’ve seen so far. So you nod. “Wonderful! Now let us go my dear” he carefully scooped you into his arms. Carrying you small body. You relax a little in his arms, as he takes you to some hotel he was talking about. You’re not sure if you should trust him, but you feel like you should. Even if you didn’t know what could happen when you do arrive.

[jahayla-parker]

FINNICKKKKK🥰

okay what about... r and fin both being victors from district 4 and sent into the quarter qwell? and r being really shy and quite and fin is super protective of her. maybe an established relationship?

The Timid Tribute : Finnick Odair x Reader

(Finnick Odair x Victor!Reader / Finnick Odair x Tribute!Reader / Finnick Odair x District4!Reader / Finnick Odair x Gf!Reader / Finnick Odair x fem!reader)

Descr: 6k wc, Finnick and his timid girlfriend find themselves in the arena for a second time thanks to the 75th Hunger Games being the 3rd Quarter Quell. Despite the odds and their allegiance to protect Katniss Everdeen, Finnick will do whatever it takes to protect y/n.

Warnings: Hunger Games type warnings, violence, trauma, blood and injuries, fighting, death(s) [not main characters], and related. Please let me know if I missed anything!

The News

“Honey?” Finnick frowned. He watched as y/n continued to sit in complete silence, just staring at the now-black screen. “Please talk to me,” he encouraged softly while he scooted closer to her on the couch. “Come on,” he pleaded as he cautiously pulled her to him, hoping to avoid startling her. Finnick knew they were both already drowning in emotions over having heard the announcement from the Capitol just moments ago. Yet, the anguish in his heart amplified when y/n’s timid eyes flickered over to him as she visibly tried to maintain her composure. The second he saw the wobbling of her bottom lip, Finnick nodded emphatically and rubbed her back. “I know, I know,” he cooed.

“Finn…,” y/n attempted, her voice cracking. She tried to swallow the tight lump in her throat. “F-F-Finn, I… can’t, I can’t,” she whimpered, still staring at the blank television screen despite the way Finnick had her head resting on his chest.

“You won’t, okay?” Finnick vowed, his heart beating rapidly. “Chances are, you won’t get reaped,” he argued. He wasn’t sure if that was necessary statistically true. But, it was what y/n needed to hear. And what Finnick needed to be true.

“Finnick,” y/n sighed, leaning back to look at her boyfriend’s face. “M-Mags can’t,” she pointed out as she shook her head. Mags was District 4’s oldest surviving victor and far too sweet for her own good. “Annie, she… still isn’t herself yet,” y/n added, explaining why the only other surviving female victor apart from herself was not a viable option to be reaped for the Quarter Quell.

“What are you saying?” Finnick croaked, his normally honey-coated voice coming out gruff from fear.

“Finn..,” y/n whined softly. She didn’t want to have to say it. Hell, she didn’t want to even think it. But, realistically, she couldn’t let Mags or Annie be reaped. While understandably none of them would want to return to the deadly arena they once won, y/n was the only one who stood a chance. As victors of their own games, none of them were supposed to have to fight in the Games ever again. But, unsurprisingly, Snow and the Capitol changed the rules. As terrifying as it was to think about having to endure that trauma all over again, y/n knew she couldn’t stand by if Annie or Mags had their names drawn for the reaping. It was between the three of them. And while she loved them both, y/n had no faith in either of their survivals should they be chosen.

“No,” Finnick stated firmly. He sharply angled his body towards y/n. He shook his head. “Y/n, you’re not-,” he begged.

“It’s not like I want to,” y/n whispered. She felt horrible about it herself. And even more so when it came to what she was asking Finnick to be okay with. She sniffled as her guilt over worsening his predicament brought tears cascading down her face.

Finnick sighed deeply. He reached over and gently pulled y/n back towards him. “It could be Shaynee,” he argued weekly. No one had heard from the last remaining female victor in nearly two years. No one in District Four really knew if she was even still alive. But, Finnick had to hold onto the small chance that it wouldn’t be the love of his life going into the Quarter Quell. He didn’t want Shaynee to have to either. But, he’d easily admit he preferred it to be her rather than y/n.

Y/n nodded wordlessly against Finnick’s chest. She opted to sit their in silence for a moment, just enjoying his presence. As the overwhelming worry she’d had since hearing the news continued to alarm inside her head, she gripped onto Finnick tightly. “I can’t lose you, Fin,” she cried.

Finnick closed his eyes and tucked y/n’s head under his chin. “You won’t, honey,” he whispered, “okay?” His calloused and sea salt-dried hands caressed her back. “You’re always going to have me, angel”.

Y/n failed to keep her composure. She clung onto Finnick’s shirt as she sobbed. Leaning back, she gazed up at him, giving him a knowing frown.

Finnick read y/n’s unspoken argument and took a deep breath. “There are two other male victors, we’ll both be fine”. He was done having this conversation, done with this being their reality. He was done with everything that wasn’t just holding her and savoring her presence. So that’s what he did. Finnick lifted y/n into his lap and hooked his legs and arms around her as he lightly swayed side to side.

Reaping Day

Y/n timidly gazed over at Finnick from the female victors’ side of the stage. She was struggling to keep her eyes clear after having heard Mags be reaped for this year’s Quarter Quell. She knew Finnick didn’t want her to volunteer to take anyone’s place. But, when saw his evident anguish over their beloved Mags having been chosen, there really wasn’t much thought that had to go into her next move. Mags had been like a mother to him over the years. Mags was one of the only other people Finnick let himself get close to. He couldn’t lose her, and if Mags went into the arena, she wouldn’t come out. Y/n on the other hand, might actually stand a chance. “I volunteer,” y/n’s voice creaked out.

Y/n had spoken the words Finnick feared so quietly that the person drawing the victors’ names barely even heard her. Yet, Finnick’s ears had long ago been trained to pick up on y/n’s timidly soft voice. And this time, her words felt devastatingly loud. Finnick fought to move closer to y/n in order to stop her, but the peacekeepers promptly held him back.

As Y/n stood at the front of the reaping stage, she kept her eyes faced out at the crowd. She couldn’t bear to see Finnick’s anger, sense of betrayal, fear, and pain. She also couldn’t stand to see Mags’s reaction to y/n offering to take her place. Nor could she handle seeing Annie’s -while understandable- tears of relief in having escaped being reaped a second time.

Yet, when Finnick’s name was called out as the male victor headed back into the arena, her head whipped back to face him. Her knees shook as she struggled to keep standing. Her eyes were wide and already drowning in tears. All of her breath left her lungs, making her choked sobs silent.

Finnick of course hadn’t ever wanted to go back into the arena again. But, hearing his name called today didn’t phase him the way he had expected. To be fair, he’d expected that hearing it would’ve meant he’d be leaving y/n’s side. That it would’ve meant leaving her to the riots taking place lately in District 4. That he’d be forced to leave her to fend for herself while he was gone fighting for the ability to be to return to her. Only now, in reality, hearing his name read aloud from the reaping podium meant he could go with y/n. It meant he’d be able to protect her and see to it that she remain unharmed during this year’s games, at least to the furthest extent possible. Nevertheless, his heart broke as he witnessed y/n’s despair over him having been chosen.

The Capitol

Finnick glared pointedly at the female tribute from District 2. He was beyond furious with the tributes, mostly the careers, looking at y/n like she was prey as she wandered around the training facility. He knew that she came across as an easy target. And while he never judged her timidity, he knew he needed to put an end to it. She had to show that she was capable of holding her own against the other tributes. Which she was. They just hadn’t seen that yet. While he was not planning on separating from her at any point in the arena, he needed to make them understand the consequences of trying to harm her should it happen against his wishes.

Finnick smiled proudly at y/n as she cluelessly sipped on the water bottle he’d given her. She just finished unknowingly showing off her skills to a room full of leering competitors. He knew she never felt confident in her abilities, so instructing her to show them off wouldn’t have worked well for the two of them. So, instead, he simply encouraged her to train and freshen up on skills she hadn’t had to use in awhile.

“You look hot,” Finnick grinned, his hands on y/n’s waist.

“Still?” Y/n questioned, trying to figure out why the water hadn’t cooled her face. “Oh,” she giggled, catching on to Finnick’s flirtatious meaning. She playfully hit his chest, smiling as he took hold of her hands and pulled her to his chest.

Finnick chuckled and pressed a light kiss to the top of y/n’s head. He knew he was being rather forward with such an act, but he didn’t care. They were both headed to their potential deaths and he was going to cherish any time he had left with her. Plus, he knew it would act as a warning to the others that his alliance was with y/n. And as such, he figured it would help protect her even further.

Finnick’s nostrils flared as he fought to keep his protectiveness in check. He was backstage with y/n as she nervously waited for her turn to do her interview with Caesar. He knew that several of the male victors-turned-tributes around them were ogling at the lack of coverage from the gown y/n’s stylist had dressed her in for the evening. Finnick could read the impure thoughts and temptations in their eyes way too easily; having recognized those looks far too well. He used his torso to shield as much of her exposed body as possible as he held her gaze.

“Hey, angel,” Finnick cooed, tenderly guiding y/n’s head back towards him instead of on the screen playing back his interview and the message he had intended for her. “Just breathe,” he guided as he watched her try to keep the tears in her eyes from falling. “You’ll get through this and then I’ll make sure our mentors have y/f/f ice-cream ready when we get back to the dorms, okay?” He smiled at the faint grin that formed on her lip. “I’ll be right here, pretend like you’re just talking to me if it helps you connect with Caesar and the audience more, yeah?”

The Games

Finnick had agreed to Heavensbee’s proposed plan to help Katniss the instant they’d offered to get y/n and himself out of there alive. That had been Finnick’s only mission since the moment she volunteered in place of Mags. Now, he finally had a realistic way to make that happen.

Yet, that didn’t stop Finnick from panicking when he saw how far away y/n was when they rose on their pedestals into the arena. He was just glad she had agreed to listen to his guidance to stay away from the cornucopia. He knew she’d be upset that he himself went into that certain bloodbath, but he needed to get their supplies and to inform Katniss of their alliance.

Y/n scanned the arena, hoping to get an idea of the landscape before total chaos erupted. She had located Finnick’s pedestal the moment her eyes adjusted to the fake sun glaring down at them. So, while waiting for the countdown to end, she let her eyes search for any other information that might come in handy later on in the games.

When the game commenced, y/n ran along the stone path to reach the meeting place she and Finnick had discussed. They’d established they would meet at whatever the tallest item was between wherever their two pedestals rose. As she skillfully ran along the wet stones, she glanced over to see much distance Finnick had made so she could adjust her speed accordingly. Only, she caught sight of him making his way to the cornucopia.

Y/n huffed loudly and cursed Finnick under her breath. While they technically hadn’t explicitly agreed that he wouldn’t do anything stupid, like heading for the cornucopia on his own, before meeting up with her, she was livid. She knew why he’d done it, wanting to get himself a trident, and surely (a) y/f/w for her. But he couldn’t be doing that alone!

Y/n whipped her head around to check her left and right for any threats as she skidded to a halt on the stone path. She took a mental measurement of the distance from her location to the cornucopia at the center of the tribute pedestals and sucked in a breath deep enough to hold her through until she crossed that distance. She promptly dove straight into the water. She felt the drastic temperature change the moment she was under the freezing water. But, thankfully her time in District 4 had accustomed her to such.

Y/n peeled her eyes open and frantically swam towards the cornucopia, her fear for Finnick’s wellbeing driving her already impressive speed. Her body relaxed ever so slightly when she saw the refracted image of him above her on the shore. He was safe and not noticeably harmed. As she reached the edge of the cornucopia, she cautiously scanned the surface before pulling herself ashore.

“Y/n?!” Finnick panicked as he protectively pulled y/n’s wet body to her feet and placed her behind him. He quickly cornered her in the back area of the dome at the center of the cornucopia. That way she was shielded from any potential impending harm. “What are you doing?!” He scolded quietly, his eyes searching her for any visible signs of injury. “You agreed to-,” he began to remind her, stopping as his head whipped forward upon hearing someone scream.

When there were two simultaneous splashes and the screaming stopped, y/n let out a sigh of relief. “I panicked,” she explained, gripping Finnick’s wrist. “I'm sorry...I shouldn't have done that, you can look after yourself...I shouldn't have...I'm sorry."

Finnick sighed, and sensing there was no immediate threat, he turned around to face y/n. “No, no,” he whispered guiltily, her sorrow over having come to his defense evident in her eyes and shaky apologies. “Shhh, it’s okay,” he cooed, turning his wrist in y/n’s hand so he could hold hers. “I was just worried about you, angel,” Finnick explained, “it’s okay. Just stay here.”

“I can help,” y/n whispered, squeezing Finnick’s hand.

Finnick smiled lovingly down at y/n. “I know, I know you can,” he nodded. “Right now though, I need you to help by staying put, I just need to find Katniss, and then we’re getting off of this death trap,” he proposed. He kissed her forehead and placed a y/f/w in her hand before he turned around and headed to the entrance of the dome.

“You’re the girl who volunteered for the old lady that was reaped,” Katniss observed. “Right?” She asked, squinting at y/n.

Y/n bit her lip shyly and nodded. Her eyes flickered from Katniss’s gaze to Finnick’s uncertainly. When he smiled and nodded at her reassuringly, she let out a relieved sigh.

“Katniss,” Katniss introduced, holding her hand out towards y/n in symbolic gesture. “That was really brave of you,” she commented kindly.

Y/n sucked her lips in as she glanced at her ally’s extended hand. After getting nonverbal approval from Finnick, she accepted the girl’s hand and shook it. She noticed the expectant but nevertheless considerate look on Katniss’s face. “Oh,” she whispered bashfully. “Y/n,” she answered, offering a shy smile.

Finnick had taken any measures possible to keep y/n in his sights at all times. When their group ventured through the foreign terrain, he’d established y/n’s place as being between Katniss and himself. He elected to remain at the back of the group to ensure he always had eyes on her. By having her stay behind Katniss, he felt reassured that she wouldn’t be risking walking into a trap. He knew the deal they’d made with Heavensbee. But, that didn’t mean he was going to let y/n be put in danger along the way.

Finnick’s measures hadn’t accounted for y/n offering herself up to find Johanna though. As such, he was taken by surprise when she proposed the idea to Katniss as their group made a game plan. He’d tried to shut the notion down immediately, but it seemed y/n was holding her ground.

“I can find her, Fin,” y/n promised. Her fingers timidly picked at her cuticles as she waited for his response.

“We really shouldn’t split up,” Finnick argued, making his way back to her from where he’d been at helping Peeta sit back up after preforming CPR on their ally.

“One of us has to watch them,” y/n reminded him, nodding towards Katniss as she protectively knelt beside Peeta. “But, we also need to find Johanna,” she defended. Johanna was in on the alliance and the sooner their group was together in the arena, the better. They would be less of a target and more of a threat as a unit. Not to mention, y/n wanted to help the girl as she had become friends with Johanna over the years after winning her games.

Finnick hated the idea of y/n parting from his side. Not because he feared she couldn’t defend herself. But because he wanted to be there should she need backup. And because he simply despised the notion of being away from her for any length of time. Yet, Finnick wouldn’t risk making her more timid. Y/n was right about them needing to split up. And she needed to believe in herself in order to handle this. Regardless of if she stayed with the latest victors or if she went to find Johanna.

Finnick scanned y/n’s body once more as he yet again checked to ensure she was fully prepared to venture out on her own. He ensured she had proper attire for any situation she may encounter, a full array of weapons on her, her shoes and hair tied tightly, etc. Only after he’d established an agreed-upon time for her to return, or at least for her to make an audible signal that she was fine if she couldn’t return yet, did he let her leave to find their friend.

Finnick groaned as he hobbled over to the sandy shore to rest his body. He knew his troubled mind wouldn’t be able to rest, not with y/n still not back yet. But his body desperately needed it after what he and the District 12 victors had endured from the poisonous fog and fighting off the monkey mutts.

As Finnick carelessly plopped himself onto the sand, he stared out at the waves. Despite the water being extremely choppy due to the wind, it was nothing in comparison to the turmoil inside of him. Hours had passed. It had been not only hours since the time y/n had parted from his side, but also several hours since the time she was to return or at least alert him to her safety. Yet, she’d not returned to him yet. He realized it might be in part of them having to leave their original location due to the poisonous fog. But, that didn’t explain why he hadn’t heard or seen anything that signaled she was trying to communicate with him.

Y/n walked blindly as Johanna guided her to the water. Her vision was completely obscured from the surge of blood that had poured down on them. The gamemakers had decided to trap them in a rainstorm of blood. Where they’d got the blood in the first place wasn’t even something y/n had the capacity to question. The simple fact that she was soaked in blood that had been pouring on them for an hour straight was torturous enough.

Finnick tossed aside the seafood he’d caught for himself and their District 12 allies when he caught sight of y/n. She was covered in some dark yet shimmering substance, her right hand clasped in Johanna’s as they waded into the water roughly a mile down the shore. Finnick dashed across the sand towards them. His pace tripled when he was close enough to realize the substance coating y/n was blood.

“Y/n? Y/n!” Finnick screamed. “Are you okay?! Where have you been?!” He questioned after she timidly whispered his name in a relieved tone as he neared them.

“Not now Finnick,” Johanna greeted, shaking her head warningly at him as she continued to guide y/n further into the water.

“I found Johanna,” y/n murmured shyly, coughing when the blood still dripping down her head entered her parted lips.

Finnick frowned and rushed into the water. “Hey, hey, hey,” he soothed, cupping y/n’s cheeks in his palms. He squinted worryingly when she flinched briefly at his touch, as if she didn’t know it was him. “Honey, tell me what happened,” he requested.

“Y/n got us out,” Johanna answered, squeezing y/n’s shoulder before heading towards the others. “But that’s when the rain started,” she explained, shaking her head in annoyance. She scooped up water and poured it over Wiress’s head. “We thought it was water… It turned out to be blood. Hot thick blood that was coming down”.

“It was choking us,” y/n spoke up, reaching out and feeling around until she was able to clutch onto Finnick’s forearms. “We were stumbling around…gagging on it…blind,” she whimpered.

Finnick heard Johanna continue to explain the events, but he’d heard what he needed to know already. He rubbed y/n’s cheek with his thumb, frowning sympathetically at the amount of blood that came off with his touch. “You’re safe now,” he promised. “Let’s get you cleaned up, love,” he offered, taking her hands in his.

“You’re okay, keep your eyes closed, honey,” Finnick instructed as he guided her to her knees in the water. He whispered various soothing sentiments as he tended to her, being sure to get all of the blood off of her. She didn’t need any lingering visual reminder of what she’d just gone through.

Finnick watched y/n’s chest closely as he tried to gauge her breathing. She was balled up between him and Johanna. Her head was resting on the edge of his shoulder as her hands were hooked around her knees. Finnick caught Johnna staring at him questioningly and he shook his head.

“Do you want me to make the others leave?” Finnick asked, worried by y/n’s shallow and quick breathing. “Or we could go for a walk, get some fresh air,” he offered. He figured Katniss trying to decipher Wiress’ rambling wasn’t helping y/n clear her mind.

Y/n shook her head. She could do this. She had to do this. She couldn’t fall apart now, they still had so long to go. She tried to take a deep breath, the intensity of its choppy sound making her panic worsen.

“Hey, just breathe,” Finnick guided, spinning around on the sand until he was seated in front of y/n. “Sugar, look at me, look at me,” he whispered, tilting her head up. When her eyes met his, he smiled supportively. “In and out, okay? Copy me”.

Y/n smiled tiredly as Finnick returned to her side. “Thank you,” she hummed shyly. She felt her already stabilizing heart rate relax further as his arms wrapped securely around her.

“I’m never letting you leave my side again,” Finnick vowed. “I was so worried,” he confessed as he rested his head on y/n’s.

Katniss had informed their group that the arena was set up like a clock, and they agreed to head to the Cornucopia to gather weapons, as well as to scan the area and verify her theory. The whole way there, Finnick was being overly protective of y/n. He knew she was already bouncing back from the blood rain, but still wished she could have more time to recover from the mental impacts of it before they had to head to such a risky location in the arena. As such, it wasn’t until Johanna had scanned the back of the cornucopia for threats that he let go of her hand so she could move freely.

Their group huddled over a diagram of the arena Peeta had drawn in the sand as they reviewed the different threats in each sector. Y/n felt eyes on her when Katniss asked if she’d seen anything during her time away from their group. She smiled faintly in appreciation to Johanna when she answered for y/n that all they’d seen was blood.

“It doesn't matter,” Peeta reassured y/n, sensing her remorse over not having known more information about the arena. “If we know which sector is active, we’ll be safe,” he concluded, standing up from his kneeling position in the sand.

“Yeah, relatively speaking,” Finnick remarked, unable to be as optimistic as Peeta given the hourly threats weren’t their only trouble.

Y/n’s eyes snapped away from Finnick at the sound of Wiress’ gasp. She pulled a knife out of her pocket and threw it at Gloss as he stood behind Wiress. She frowned as she noticed that despite her knife and Katniss’s arrow having struck Gloss flawlessly, the man had already taken Wiress’ life.

Finnick moved forward to keep y/n from running to Wiress as the woman collapsed to the ground.

Y/n tactically shoved Finnick aside, spinning to strike Cashmere with her newly obtained trident as the District 1 victor charged towards him. She knocked the tribute to the ground and they promptly wrestled against each other.

Finnick went to help y/n after having realized why she’d pushed him aside. Only, he found himself having to fight off Brutus instead. He growled as he attempted to finish the battle quickly.

Finnick had barely rose back up from his knees after a blade seemingly tossed by y/n scraped Brutus’s shoulder and scared him away when Peeta was running after the monster of a victor. He stopped Peeta’s offensive move, knowing he’d easily be outmatched by the District 2 tribute. He shoved Peeta’s resisting frame back as his eyes searched the cornucopia for y/n. Just as his eyes found y/n’s tousled hair, he was knocked down as the ground underneath him began to spin.

Y/n gasped as she was suddenly thrown off of Cashmere as the cornucopia rotated. Her fingers frantically searched the damp rocks for a place to hold onto. Just when she thought she’d found one, a slab of metal flung off the dome and knocked her hands off of the thin grasp she had on the structure of the cornucopia. She let out an uncharacteristic scream as her body tumbled down the wet foundation towards the water. It wasn’t the water that worried her, it was how fast the surface was spinning above the water that was the problem. If she were to hit the side of it on her way down, she’d suffer the same fate she just watched Cashmere endure.

“Y/n!” Finnick shouted upon hearing her scream. He held tightly onto the surface as he mentally pleaded for y/n to be okay. He instinctively caught Peeta when his body slid down the rocks beside him, keeping him afloat without having to shift his mind off of thoughts about y/n’s wellbeing. His blood ran cold as he heard his love let out another scream.

“Y/n! No!” Johanna screamed, futilely reaching towards the surging water below her. She and Katniss were both still struggling to stay on shore, but y/n had been flung off despite three victors’ best efforts.

Finnick found himself unable to breathe when the cornucopia stopped spinning. But it wasn’t from the surge of adrenaline, nor from the speed of the spinning motion. Instead, his fear and concern for y/n had rendered him breathless. He scrambled to his feet the second the surface stopped moving. The trident in his hand shook nervously as he frantically searched the island for her.

“Finnick!” Johanna shouted, waving him over.

“She fell in,” Katniss explained breathily, giving Finnick a remorseful look.

“F-Fi-,” y/n forced out, choking on the freezing water as she breached the shore. She hadn’t seen what happened to him after she’d thrown the blade at Brutus awhile ago. Long before the very ground they were on literally turned against them. She needed to know he was okay.

Finnick once again picked up on y/n’s quiet exclamation. His eyes snapped in the direction of her voice and he sighed in slight relief upon seeing her alive and breathing. He tossed his trident aside as he ran down the stone trail that lead to where she was. He helped her pull herself ashore, holding her to him immediately. “I thought I lost you,” he whimpered, tightening his grip on her frail and trembling body.

Finnick pulled back after a moment, his eyes searching y/n’s face. “Say something,” he begged. Her timidity was too concerning right now. “Are you hurt?!”

Y/n grabbed Finnick’s bicep as she staggered backwards to show him her leg. During her fight with Cashmere, she’d been stabbed in the thigh. Having been dragged down the rough surface of the cornucopia surely hadn’t done much to help the wound. She swallowed as she took note of just how much worse the injury now was.

“N…no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Finnick rambled, his eyes watering. He dropped to his knees, his hands pressing firmly against y/n’s wound. “Y/n?” He questioned when he didn’t hear her whimper even slightly at the pressure. His eyes gazed up at her as he sucked in short choppy breaths. “Hey, I’ve got you, you’re going to be okay,” he promised, seeing the defeated look in y/n’s eyes.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Finnick instructed, adjusting his hand placement when Johanna ran up to him with a small first aid kit from the cornucopia. “O-okay? Honey,” he whispered, trying to prevent his voice from showing the fear that was surging inside him, “just focus on me… We’re going to be okay!”

As Katniss discussed the plan with Peeta, y/n walked over to Finnick. She tried to hide her limp, not wanting to worry him further. “Do you need anything Finn?” She asked softly as she set her hand on his shoulder.

Finnick quickly turned his head upwards, not knowing she was going with Katniss on the supply run. “No, love, where are you going?” He asked rhetorically. He knew where y/n was planning on going based off her question and the plan they’d all formed. But, he was hoping by asking she’d reconsider.

“She needs help,” y/n whispered shyly.

Finnick smiled lovingly at y/n but shook his head. “I’ll go with,” he proposed, knowing y/n wasn’t going to relent on her helping Katniss.

“Finny,” y/n sighed. “You don’t have t-“.

“I know,” Finnick said. He picked his trident up off the ground and took her hand in his other. “Ready?” He asked.

Y/n’s eyes shot open as she heard Finnick screaming her name. She whipped her head back and forth in search of her boyfriend. She silently ran after him as he bolted into the gathering of trees. She froze when she heard her own voice screaming for Finnick’s help. Jabberjays. “It’s not real!” She yelled, resuming her running. Only, the Jabberjays playback of her voice was far louder and Finnick had run too far for her to reach him.

“He can’t see you, stop!” Johanna explained, motioning towards the clear barrier between the hourly sectors as she held y/n back.

Katniss was on her knees, pressed up against the invisible divider between her and the others as the Jabberjays mimicked her sister Prim’s voice. The District 12 victor had been fortunate enough to see the others through on the opposite side of the divide before she was overtaken by the screaming. So at least she knew it wasn’t real.

Finnick wasn’t that lucky. He’d left Johanna watching over y/n as she and Peeta slept. Meanwhile he was only a few hundred feet away, teaching Katniss how to form some knots for the next step in their plan. That’s when the Jabberjays attacked. He hadn’t even thought to look back to where he’d last seen y/n when he heard her voice crying for him to help her. Instead, he instinctively rushed towards the sound. As such, he’d ventured further into the Jabberjay sector than Katniss and didn’t have the chance to see the others were safe, to see y/n was actually safe. Sure Katniss tried to remind him that they were just Jabberjays. But, he knew Jabberjays copied things they’d heard. Meaning y/n could very well be hurt somewhere in the arena somehow right now, begging for him to come to her rescue.

Tears streamed down Finnick’s face as he knelt on the damp grass. His hands were shaking as they covered his ears, his heart racing out of control. This had to be fake. The screams coming from the Jabberjays were excruciating. If y/n were truly screaming at that volume instead of the Jabberjays increasing it for the purpose of his torture, she had to be in a near-death state. He’d never heard her this loud before. It had to be fake. He couldn’t live without her. It had to be fake. It had to be.

“I know, I know,” y/n cooed as she embraced Finnick. She had wrapped herself around his crumpled frame the second the invisible barrier between them had absolved. “I’m here, handsome, I’m here,” she promised, gasping as he clung onto her.

“You’re sure you’re okay?!” Finnick repeated frantically, leaning back to see y/n. His eyes analyzed her several-hour-old wound on her thigh despite her nodding her head. He pulled her back into his embrace, pressing kisses all over her face.

Y/n gasped as Finnick jumped in front of her, intentionally trapping her between him and the tree behind her so she couldn’t take the arrow that Katniss had pointed at them instead of him.

“Katniss, remember who the real enemy is,” Finnick spoke calmly. He slid his foot backwards to signal for y/n to stop trying to wordlessly squirm her way out from behind him. He wasn’t going to let her try and block the arrow him hitting him. If one of them had to go down like this, it was going to be him.

Finnick didn’t need to see y/n’s expression to know she was too timid to say anything, her fear silencing her. Nor did he need words to know she was angry that he was making this decision for the both of them. But he had to.

Finnick let out a sigh when he watched Katniss move her bow away from him and point it towards the artificial sky above them. He felt y/n move to his side, his hand finding her hip and tugging her closer while his gaze cautiously stayed on Katniss.

As the girl from District 12 released her bow, Finnick moved y/n back. He guided them both to the ground before the impact could knock them down. Finnick saw y/n’s worried stare and he stroked her cheek before he covered her with his body. “Stay down honey, we’re getting out of this together,” he murmured lovingly.

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[theaawalker]

Something to Feel, Something Real [Finnick Odair Smut]

Pairing: Finnick Odair x male!reader Song Inspo: Call Me By Your Name by Lil Nas X Word Count: 1,394 Summary: You've seen Finnick around, often through pitying eyes, but haven't spoken to him. The times you have seen, he's either with a client (flirting) or leaving them (shaking with shame, rage, and disgust). You decide to make him feel something real and mutually pleasurable. Warnings: smut, oral (male receiving), emotional build-up, MxM, one-shot, begging, substance usage, cursing, narrator pov Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly) A/N: This is not attached to "I Promise", my other Finnick imagine. The second part will be here shortly. Just adding a little twist to the end. *smirks villainously* In the meantime, here's some gay smut to tickle your tentacles. Peep the easter egg tho ;)

You and Finnick have your first real conversation when he’s arriving back at the Tribute center one night after spending an upsetting few hours with one of Snow’s clients. He’s in a foul mood, anger bordering on despair and self-hatred, still feeling the ghosts of unwanted fingers on his body, when he steps into the elevator and finds you smoking a joint.

"Shit, shit!” you curse, hiding the joint up your sleeve and coughing, waving your hands in the air like you can disperse the smell. “Sorry, someone was smoking in here before,” you lie.

Finnick can’t help himself. He laughs. “Give me a hit and I won’t tell anyone.”

You share the joint in the elevator, not hitting any button to go up to either of your floors. The chatter comes easy with both of you, but it’s not long before you’re stepping over friendly small talk into a genuine conversation about the wild shit you’ve seen in the Capitol and in your case, at home, too. District 2 loves to rub elbows with the Capitol, something you despise. Your comparisons and imitations have Finnick barking laughter.

During one of the lulls in conversation, he takes in your face and form, basking in the fact that he’s responsible for the smile on your face right now. He’d like to get to know you better, and fuck it, maybe he’s a little horny right now, too.

“Come to my floor?” he asks, the joint between his fingers. He takes a slow drag, watching you.

You stare at his lips as he exhales. God, the high must be hitting because all you want to do is cover his lips with yours. Like, it’s the only thought rattling around in your peanut brain. His lips curl into a smile and--Oh, shit. He asked you a question.

“Sure,” you answer.

One expression Finnick identifies all too easily is lust. And he sees it plain on your face. “Then let’s go.”

Finnick leads you to the lounge on the fourth floor, well away from the bedrooms. The giant windows let in light from the Capitol’s nightlife.

“I miss the stars,” you say once you’re both settled next to each other on a loveseat. “It’s not like there are a ton of them back home with all the light pollution, but still. There are more than here.”

Finnick gazes at the dark sky. “You should come to District 4 sometime. You can see the entire Milky Way. And instead of listening to all those cars you listen to the ocean. And you can forget everything for a few moments.”

Despite the lounge being much, much larger than the elevator, this feels far more intimate. Finnick and you face each other, your eyes flicking to his lips. He’s the Capitol sex icon and has always acted like an absolute peacock on camera, but you’ve seen him trying so hard mentoring his own tributes and taking care of Mags. There’s a lot more depth to him than what the cameras show. And you like the bits he shows off camera far, far more. Those bits are coming out tonight; a funny, deeply caring, deeply hurt young man with a vast capacity for kindness.

When he came into the elevator, he looked positively miserable and so, so defeated. Like he had been stomped on and ground down. You wanted to make him smile, a real smile, but then you couldn’t stop at just one, and now here you are. You know about his and Snow’s “arrangement”. You also know you can treat him better than any of the “clients” do even when they’re trying, and you wonder if he’ll let you treat him like that.

Your intense stare has Finnick shifting, feeling a few degrees hotter than before.

“Can I kiss you?” you finally ask, voice low. If there’s one thing being a Career has taught you, it’s to grab at any opportunity you see. Finnick swallows. “Yes,” he croaks. “Please.”

You lean forward and capture his lips, one hand on the back of the couch and the other securely in your lap. You’re close and leaning into him, but not holding him. The restraint surprises him at first. But he’s grateful for it and he relaxes. He sinks into the kiss, his own hands venturing to fist in your shirt collar and hold you there. You let him lead, let him feel your arms and touch your face and chest, but never move your own hands from their position, just pour your all into your lips against his.

The lights flick on. You and Finnick snap apart like a rubber band snapping back into shape. It’s Mags. She looks between you both with wide eyes before a mischevious smile breaks across her face. “No, no, Mags,” Finnick protests.

She winks, grinning, and flicks the lights back off. She exits.

Finnick groans. “I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

You grin and wink. “Well, if you’re never going to hear the end of it, we may as well make it worth it, right?”

His seafoam eyes lock on yours, an eyebrow lifting. He smirks. “Oh? What do you have in mind?”

Leaning forward, you whisper in his ear, “I’d like to suck you off.”

All thoughts leave his head and all blood flows straight to his groin. For once, he’s speechless. No one has ever offered this before. All the people he spends time with want his attention on them, want him to fawn over them, wants him to boost their egos with his attention. And if they did off, he’d wonder what they want in return. Exactly like he’s wondering right now. He should ask, but his brain is too focused on the thought of your lips around his dick. Does he really care what happens after as long as he gets what he wants, first?

At his silence you withdraw. “Only if you want me to, of course,” you add. The last thing you want to do is make him uncomfortable.

“Yes,” he hastily replies. “Yes. I’d love you to suck me off.”

That affirmation is all you need. You kneel in front of him and slowly unzip his pants, revealing plain boxers beneath. Finnick watches you, his heart pounding. With agonizingly slow movements, you touch his length and guide it through the gap in his boxers. He grips the cushions of the loveseat as you lick up the underside of his member, from the base to the tip. Your tongue is deliciously wet. Finally, you take Finnick into your mouth and work him slow, slow, slow. One hand balls into a fist on his leg and the other slips in your hair. He moans, a low sound that barely reaches your ears.

You can’t believe no one has ever done this before. You’ve barely started, and he looks absolutely wrecked and so goddamned pretty. His head falls back against the loveseat and he lets out a shaky breath.

Fisting him, you take your mouth off to quip, “Have I made the Finnick Odair speechless?”

He huffs a laugh, meeting your gaze. “Just wait until I have you on your back and—oh.” His words end in a strangled moan as you suck his head. You ease him a little bit further into the rhythm before you deep-throat him. By then both hands tangle in your hair and he’s whimpering and trembling, muscles taut. “Fuck. Fuck.” It’s so warm, so hot, feels so, so good.

He comes shortly after, cock hot and stiff in your mouth, his entire body rigid. As he comes down from his high he melts into the couch, both his hands gently tugging at your head. “Get up,” he pants. You comply and stand, bracing your arms on either side of his head, and kiss him. There it is again, that restraint.

“Touch me,” he moans. “Please.” He might combust if you don’t.

You obey and cup his cheeks. His hands mimic yours, holding your face to his while you kiss. His stomach feels warm and body completely relaxed, for once completely in the moment, his brain pleasantly quiet.

He opens his eyes. “What can I do for you?”

You press your forehead to his, cheeks hot. God, there’s so much you want to do to him, with him, but not tonight. “You can go to bed and get a full night’s sleep,” you answer.

What? He knows he heard you right, but what? “That’s not what I meant,” he says hesitantly. You chuckle and kiss his cheek.

“I know.” You brush back a lock of his hair. “And as much as I’d like to fuck you or you fuck me and make out well into the morning, you taking care of yourself is what I want the most. Can you promise me you’ll do that?”

Finnick can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “I promise.” He feels almost bashful. How do you know what he needs? Beneath your soft gaze he feels vulnerable and open, and while it’s foreign, it’s not unwelcome.

You smile at him, a brilliant smile that lights up the night. “Thank you.”

You’re thanking him. You just gave him a blowjob and you’re thanking him. Who the fuck are you?

After exchanging a few more minutes of sweet nothings, you leave to head to your floor. Finnick stays on the loveseat a while longer, smiling, watching the twinkling lights of the Capitol. The content expression gradually falls from his face and he sinks into the reality that is his life. At least this has been a sliver of good in what is his constant parade of masking for the Capitol. Maybe he can have a few more of those slivers when you’re around. He’s certainly going to try to grab the chances when they present themselves.

• ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ •

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[werewolf-witchboy]

Rodrick Heffley X male reader

You and Rodrick are both emo, dumb, and queer. 💀

This is shorter than what I usually post.

Also, for some reason every time I typed "Rodrick" it always autocorrected to "Rodriguez" lmfao. I tried fixing it every time it did that, so hopefully there aren't any leftover "Rodriguez's" that I didn't catch.

You can't help but find it funny that Rodrick's mom busted him for having a porno mag, you teased him about it for weeks.

However, what you've just found in Rodrick's closet was a lot harder to tease him about. You didn't even think you should mention that you found it, you debated on keeping it a secret forever.

Rodrick had asked you to run up to his room to grab another pair of drumsticks for him, which he said was in his closet.

The drumsticks were nowhere to be found, so you had to dig around a little. Instead you found another porno magazine- which wouldn't have even phased you honestly, only what shocked you is that it's a gay porno magazine.

Rodrick was the type to make jokes about himself being into dudes, but you didn't actually think he was. After all, he has been your best friend ever since you moved to Plainview at the beginning of your Freshmen year.

You've both been through so much together; struggling through all 4 years of highschool as the wild emo outcasts, graduating, and forming the Löaded Diaper! You've even come out to him and told him you like guys, so you didn't think he'd keep something like that from you.

Maybe it's not that big of a deal. He probably didn't even know he had a gay porno mag amongst all of his junk. For all you know, it could have been one of yours that you left at his place.

Then again...why would you bring one of your own porno's to someone else's house?

You must have been taking forever getting the drum sticks that you originally came for, because minutes later Rodrick came through the door.

"You find em'? I know my closet is a mess, but-" Rodrick froze when you bravely showcased the magazine instead of a pair of drumsticks.

"Let me guess...this isn't yours?" You teased, mocking what he told his mom about the other magazine.

Rodrick stood up straight and cleared his throat, then strode over to snatch your find away.

"It is mine. Not like you should be surprised."

Well now your brain is malfunctioning.

"Um I am a little surprised, considering my best friend never told me he also likes dudes!" You try not to sound hurt, but it was kind of hard to hide your frustration considering you told him everything.

Rodrick legitimately looked dumbfounded and you tried not to laugh through your pout.

"What do you think I mean whenever I say shit like 'Kellin Quinn is my dream guy' and 'I'd kiss you if you'd let me'?!"

Your eyeliner smudged eyes are probably buldgeing out of your head right now.

"Um...I thought they were jokes?" Even as those words are coming out of your mouth you felt kinda stupid. For as long as you've known Rodrick, he's always said stuff like that.

Anyone also knows that Rodrick is never subtle when it comes to flirting, so you should have probably known that all of the random pickup lines he's used on you were most likely serious.

Rodrick's mouth hung open. "So you're telling me that I've basically just been hitting on a brick wall for 5 years?"

"i'M sOrRy! You know I have low self esteem! Whenever people like me I never notice because I don't think people will ever like me!!" Words all blended together as you spoke in a fast panicked pace.

Rodrick quite literally facepalmed.

You're lucky your obliviousness is cute or else he'd pumble you for talking down about yourself.

"I don't even know what to say right now." Rodrick was lost for words.

You awkwardly fiddled with your fingers, still sitting on the floor of his room in front of the closet. "If it means anything, I've had a crush on you for almost as long as I've known you." You puffed your cheeks out, feeling them becoming warm, probably turning pink.

Rodrick choked on his own spit. "iF IT MEANS ANYTHING TO ME???? HELL YES IT DOES!! How the heck you have a crush on me of all people?!" You looked down at the floor, kinda shocked that he doesn't understand why you'd like him.

"You're literally a hot emo boy who wasn't mean to me when I moved here. I had nothing before I met you, and you took me on so many adventures and showed me so many new things. I'm glad I met you, and it was hard not to fall for you."

It felt like you ranted a little too much, probably spilled a little to much and made yourself seem like a bit of a lonely loser without Rodrick.

You got a little scared when he wasn't saying anything. Your gaze lifted from the floor to meet his calculating expression.

His reply was simply just "can we makeout?"

aNd oF cOuRse yOu sAid yEs, and he tripped over his own shoes when tried to tackle you on the floor. The two of you ended up tangled together in a heated makout session that felt so satisfying after pining over each other for 5 damn years. You're both so stupid I stfg lol.

[thisisourlovestory]

Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Word count- 2.8k

Notes: Happy New Year! Hope you enjoy this one. My phone deleted half of it so I had to rewrite it but that worked in my favour and I think it’s better than it was

Chapter 3

The next morning I was awoken by knocking at my door. Assuming it to be Lysander I ignored it and took my sweet time getting ready, taking a long shower under burning water, brushing my teeth vigorously, loosely clipping back the front strands of my hair and slipping on a pale blue dress from the wardrobe in the wall before making my way to the dining area. I followed the smell of freshly cooked bacon and pancakes, my mouth watering as I sat down and took a few pancakes, stacking them up, cutting a slab of butter that melted as soon as I dropped it on top, drizzling sticky sweet syrup over them and layering bacon on top. I grabbed a fork and dug into my towering pillar of food, the salty bacon contrasting with the sugary syrup. I polished it off in no time at all and reached for the piles of jewel like fruits, stacked in tiny ceramic bowls in the centre of the table. I had just bit into a slice of watermelon, pink juice dripping down the corner of my mouth, when Mags walked in with Lysander who flaunted a garish purple and gold striped suit and he began to speak as loudly as ever as I quickly wiped my chin.

“Good morning!” My head hit the table.

“Goodness Y/N, did you not get enough sleep last night?” He asked, looking at me with slight concern.

“I'm fine thank you for asking,” I answered, “Just woke up a bit too early.” I rubbed my head, smiling sheepishly and his gaze softened.

“That simply won't do!” He exclaimed, “We need you to be on top form for when you’re in the arena.”

“Lysander.” I called out softly, interrupting what was sure to be a long tirade. “I… I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for my outburst yesterday. I don't know what I was thinking. I suppose, well I suppose I was just a little overwhelmed by all this. I hope you can forgive me. “ I twisted a strand of my hair in my fingers and he took the bait immediately. I could almost see what he was thinking. Such a kind girl, she must be terrified, very sweet of her to apologise. His eyes gained a look of sympathy as he raised a hand to his heart and walked over to me.

“It's quite alright dear, no need for apologies. I completely understand you must be feeling absolutely terrified of all this. You did such a kind thing volunteering for Miss Cresta, so selfless, dear and I’m sure she appreciates it very much.” I nodded, going back to my food, and he clapped. “Now that's all sorted out, we need a plan for you.” He looked me up and down, assessing me as Mags grinned into her bowl at the look on my face. “I'm thinking we play the innocent card, the fact you were so young when you won will help with that a lot. You are one of the youngest in the games this year after all. We simply must also use the fact that you are a true performer and ballet is such a beautiful art form indeed so,” he turned to Mags, “I propose we paint her as an angel.”

I choked on a piece of watermelon, the apprehension on my face giving way to horror. Mags patted me gently on the back and I straightened in my seat, sending a grateful smile her way as Lysander continued, lost in his own world.

“Of course only your stylist can decide this but I’m fairly certain I can put in a word and if they didn't already have the same idea after watching the reaping then I'll eat my hat.” I eyed the purple monstrosity on his head and imagined it being stuffed into his mouth, wondering if maybe that would be the thing that would finally shut him up. I wanted to scream at him, tell him that I was no angel and he was a monster for finding some kind of pleasure in this, deciding what part I should play as I die. Instead I just smiled slightly and lowered my head to stop him from seeing the tears in my eyes. At that second Finnick walked in and Lysander's attention was immediately drawn to him. I sat silently as he practically interrogated him, asking how he was feeling, if he thought he could win. The answers were short, not letting anything interesting slip but giving enough to satisfy Lysander and fool him into thinking he was basically his new best friend. I zoned out part way through Lysanders rant about what the Gamemakers would throw at us this year- as if we hadn't all been thinking about it since they were announced. Suddenly, I was brought back to reality by the sound of my name.

“Y/N, Y/N.” I blinked and my gaze shifted to Lysander.

“Sorry.” I muttered

“Quite alright dear, you must be tired if you didn't get enough sleep. We're going to watch the games you were both in, for reference.” My mind didn't register the words and I simply nodded before I realised what he had said and my eyes widened in shock.

We watched Finnicks first, since he won before me. From the reaping all the way through to the crowning ceremony. He was confident in the interviews, dressed in the most impeccable suit and tie, clearly designed to show off his beauty, laughing at Caesar Flickerman's comments and responding with his own witty quips, not just a pretty face at all. Then utterly deadly in the arena. For the first few days he had lain low, not much excitement but enough to keep sponsors interested. Then he got the trident, the most expensive gift ever seen, and it was over. District 4 was fishing after all, and it seemed Finnick Odair was born to wield the trident. He captured tribute after tribute in a net and killed them all, offering no mercy. And finally the last cannon went off announcing him the winner. Fourteen years old and he had won, the youngest victor, the most handsome victor, the Capitol darling. Finnick Odair. If he was that good back then, I had no doubt he would be extraordinary now. He had it all as well, the looks which first made the Capitol love him, he was intelligent, and undoubtedly one of the best fighters that would be going into the arena. Mags and I sat there speechless as Lysander congratulated Finnick endlessly.

“And how you used that trident, extraordinary! I don't believe you'll struggle in these games now that you've had ten years to practise.” I could only think of how young he'd been, how he'd been forced to grow up so quickly after, how he'd won- but what was the cost?

Then my games were switched on; I saw myself going through it all over again. The walk up to the stage after my name was called, all eyes on me. The chariot ride where they had dressed me up as a mermaid, all shimmering fabrics and a golden crown. The interview, where Caesar asked me questions about my life back home and I answered quietly, barely audible, playing the sweet little girl as I danced for them momentarily. The arena, my frightened face as the boy from 10 died in front of me, running and hiding. Then a cut to as I made my first kills, I saw the light leave their eyes as the blood left their bodies. Another cut, to the chase and confrontation with Arion, the second the knife left my hand I closed my eyes and the thud as it hit him echoed in my ears.

They showed the crowning ceremony last, I stood calmly on the dais with my hands clasped in front of my body. I had been made to wear a white dress that fell to my knees and had a red bow tied around it. The same red adorned the pins in my hair, shaped like roses, and the single gem hanging from a silver chain around my neck. The significance was not lost on me, young as I was. I had killed three people in the arena so I wore three pieces of red. One for each of them, the crimson colour their blood on my hands. President Snow walked up slowly and placed the golden laurels on my head. He looked down at me, a small smile on his face as I gazed up at him, he whispered something that only I could hear. Words that left me pale and confused, words that could have been good but in the circumstances only sounded like the promise of a life of pain. His mouth moved on the screen and I read his lips.

“The Capitol will love you.” He stepped away and proclaimed me their victor. And it struck me how I looked so tiny compared to him and everyone around me, as the Capitol roared with applause and my big eyes stared out over them, disbelieving and uncertain before the tape ended leaving the compartment in silence.

I shoved my seat back, the legs screeching on the floor, and stood up quickly. Everyone turned to face me as I stayed still for a second.

“Y/N.” Lysander began but I cut him off.

“No, I just, I need to, I can't.” My brain was jumbled, old memories being dragged to the surface unwillingly. So I turned and I ran.

I sprinted along the train, pushing doors open as I ran through the compartments. Avoxes jumped out of my way as I barreled past them, looking at me in curiosity. I came to the end of the train and held my hands in front of me to push through the doors. I crashed through them and fell into the railing. I gripped onto the cold metal as if it was the only thing keeping me in reality, the wind rushed past me and my hair floated in front of me, strands whipping in the cold air. I could barely see, tears blurring my vision and hair covering my face. I took a shuddering breath, letting the cold air flood my lungs, and I broke. I cried and cried and cried. Letting out everything that I had kept bottled up for seven years. I had cried before, that day on the cliffs, that was for the games, for the fact that it was happening all over again for so many people across Panem. But this. This was for me. For every pain I had endured since I won, the evenings spent dancing and singing under lights focused solely on me, the fear of making a mistake stopping me from enjoying it fully, the nights spent alone, unable to sleep because of the nightmares, the days spent wandering around like a lost soul, wondering if it would ever be better than what it was.

So I cried for myself, in one selfish moment I allowed myself to only care about myself. Tears dripped down my face, droplets falling on the railing for what felt like forever. Eventually my throat grew raw and my eyes seemed to run out of tears to cry. I dropped my head forwards into my hands and my eyes glazed over with the memories I had suppressed.

I was no longer on the train headed to the Capitol. I was in the arena. Perched on an icy tree branch, pressed against the tree trunk to keep from slipping off. Hidden by the frozen leaves in the white fluffy clothing they had given us to wear. A tribute ran underneath my hiding spot, running away from something, two others followed chasing him. I immediately recognised them as career tributes, this was all just a game of cat and mouse to them. And they caught him. I shoved a piece of cloth in my mouth to stop myself from letting out any noise that would give myself away and clapped my hands over my ears to block out the noise of his screaming in pain and crying out for help from someone as they ripped into him, their laughter echoing in the otherwise silent forest. A warning that they were on the hunt and if you valued your life you would get out of there as soon as possible.

I had stayed in that tree for the first few days until I was eventually forced to move when the gamemakers released mutts into the arena. Great big slobbering beasts that lumbered along harmlessly until someone tried to kill one. Then all hell had broken loose as they chased tributes up trees and then hurled themselves unrelentingly at them, bringing them down and mauling them beyond recognition. They brought about the deaths of five tributes before they just disappeared, presumably called back out after doing their job.

I snapped out of my daze as I felt someone standing next to me. My gaze cleared as I pushed the memories back into a locked box in my mind. I didn’t need to look to know who it was, the mark on my wrist burning and on instinct I pulled my sleeve down and took a small step to the side to lessen the sting. It eased immediately from the small distance between us and faded to a dull throbbing. Finnick said nothing at my movement and we just looked out over the passing countryside, rolling green fields, trees that touched the sky and vast lakes stretching beyond the horizon. We stayed like that, peaceful, just taking it all in until he finally broke the silence.

“You were so young.”

I smiled bitterly, resting my chin on my open palm propped up on the railing.

“We all were but we had no choice. They just want to watch their games. And they don’t care if innocent children die so they can have them.” I laughed slightly. “Then they get the one that lives.” I shook my head, my fingers tightening on the rail, the cold metal biting into my skin. “They get to kill us then they get to keep us.” I turned around, leaning backwards onto the railing and looked up, watching the clouds move slowly away in the blue sea of the sky. Then the Capitol came into view, towering buildings taking up the skyline, marring it with grey,

“I'm going to go back in,” Finnick said, following my line of vision, “You should as well.” With that he stepped back into the train, not sparing a second glance as I watched him walk through a set of doors and out of sight. I relaxed as he left and stayed in my position, head tilted skywards, eyes closed until I felt tiny drops of water on my face. I opened my eyes to see rain falling, a light drizzle but enough to dampen my clothes and hair, I laughed slightly and walked inside, the warmth hitting me in a blast. I hadn't realised how cold I'd been before but the heat warmed me and my clothes quickly dried off. I looked over my shoulder as I walked through the doors that slid open, the rain pattering on the windows lightly, a last glimpse of normality.

I quickly made my way through the train, hearing Lysander screeching at unfortunate avoxes to find me as if I was missing and he had no idea where to find me. I stepped into the compartment to see him looking frazzled, he immediately caught sight of me standing unsurely at the edge of the room and gave a dramatic sigh of relief.

“Not to worry everyone she's here.” The train jolted to a stop. “We have arrived.” Lysander practically squealed and eyed me.” Dear, you should just fluff out your hair a bit, and try to look happy for the cameras.” I nod my head once and plaster a smile on my face. He nodded in approval.

We made our way to the doors. Finnick and I stood either side of Lysander and Mags was just behind us. I can see people through the windows already, screaming and shouting with excitement.

“Now everyone, remember this is the first time they will see you so make sure to leave a good impression. That means smile and wave, blow a few kisses if you have to.” Lysander told us, focusing his words mostly on me. A bell rang and he quickly turned around to me, perfecting everything he could see wrong, the tiniest hair out of place, my sleeves at different lengths and pushing my cheeks into a smile. Facing forward just in time as the doors slid open and we stepped out into the masses.

Taglist:

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[odderevents]

I have had a thought. Steve secretly knowing how to play the piano bc he learned as a kid and had to stop bc his dad's an asshole is lovely. I've seen this floating around a few times and I love it. Eddie catching him playing the piano and being so fucking in love with him will never not be perfect.

But.

Consider

Steve playing the Harp.

It's definitely a rich kid instrument. Big ass fucking impractical instrument. Absolutely beautiful to look at and listen to. Hands playing piano is great. But have you ever seen an accomplished harpist? It makes you think impure thoughts about what those fingers can do.

So. Steve secretly knowing how to play the harp

Maybe his mom used to play it, so there's a big harp (the ones with the columns and super intricate base board, not celtic) that's just gathering dust in the basement. Steve started piano lessons, loved learning how to pull music out of an inert object. But his dad decides it's to effeminate, makes him stop. And sure, a harp is a different beast to a piano. But you've still got cords, and Steve's got a pretty decent ear, and he can barely remember seeing his mom play. So one day when he has the house to himself, which isn't an unusual occurrence at this point, he tries it out. And he's admittedly pretty shit at it, but so was he at piano when he started. Only difference is he has no teacher.

So maybe Steve discreetly finds a way to acquire a beginner's practice instructional book for harp. And works on it when he needs to get his brain away from things.

He's even more careful with it than he is with any dirty mags he might later acquire. He knows that worse, much worse than piano, harp is not a masculine instrument and under no circumstances should his father find out about his affinity for it.

It's still his go to when he can't sleep even years later, pulling out the now old and battered booklet of sheet music and exercises. Especially once the upside down bullshit starts. It's soothing and mindless at this point.

The harp that was much too big when he first started with it is now just the right size, it's weight against his shoulder comforting. He can close his eyes and his fingers naturally find where to land and pluck.

Even when he becomes friends with Robbin and then Eddie, both musicians who he knows wouldn't give a damn about him playing a woman's instrument, he can't bring himself to mention it. If he did, they would want to hear him play and he's self-conscious about being self-taught. Both of them play well, they play with other people and people come to listen. He doesn't consider himself a "real" musician. It's just something he does to keep his hands and brain busy on nights where the sheets feel like they're strangling him and the dark reminds him too much of when he can't see not because it's night but because something's hit him in the head again and he can't tell apart the sound of his heartbeat from something pounding through his walls.

So he goes to the basement. Finds his stool. Removes the dust cover. Goes through the meditative motions of tuning it by ear, because that's how he's always done it. And then he plays until the tips of his fingers feel numb. Somehow, he always comes out of it peaceful enough to pass out on the couch in the basement for a couple more hours.

Steve is so used to keeping it a secret he doesn't even think about it when he starts dating Eddie. It's just a thing that's always only been his, and most importantly, it's been vital to keep it that way for so long it's the natural state of things for Steve at this point. It doesn't ever come up. When Steve gets nightmares when he's sleeping with Eddie all he has to do is curl into his boyfriend's chest and feel the warm heartbeat that's not his own to settle back into himself.

The problem arises on a night when Eddie was supposed to stay with Steve but he got held up in Indianapolis when getting a new amp for his guitar. He would come back to Steve but it would be late in the night. Steve has been keeping himself busy all day so he passes out in the early evening on the couch in front of a shitty sitcom he put on to try to distract himself from the empty house.

Nightmares find him, which isn't terribly unusual, but he doesn't have his usual method of coping so he resorts back to his previous habit.

Eddie walks in bone tired after many hours of driving to and from Indianapolis, waiting while the clerk figured out they didn't have the amp he'd been assured over the phone would be available for pickup today, waiting some more while they had the amp driven from a sister shop an hour away because no way was he driving back and forth again to Indianapolis on another day. So yeah. Eddie is beat. All he wants is to dive head first into his boyfriend's impeccable pecs.

He doesn't find Steve waiting with a welcome kiss like he usually would when he walks in. Instead he's greeted with a hauntingly beautiful rendition of the melody of Master of Puppets in a way he's never heard before.

He drops his stuff in the entry hall and goes down to the basement where the music is coming from, curious to see where Steve might have found the recording. Eddie doesn't quite know what to do with himself when he finally lays eyes on Steve, with dried tear stains on his cheeks and his eyes closed as his fingers pluck and strum without hesitation. He's rooted to the spot as he watches Steve work his favorite song in a new and completely heartrending way. He hasn't been able to listen to it since he played it in the upside down. It always brings up the bitter blood tang of the air and the hair raising shrieks of the bats. But this is somehow different, it's soft and melodious but it's still got the same bones.

Eddie feels tears on his own cheeks. He's missed this song goddammit. And he couldn't be happier that it's Steve that's given it back to him

Queue tears and fear and confessions and comfort. Somehow much later in the future there's inexplicably a harp in some of the corroded coffin tracks. And it shouldn't work but it does

[jayke0]

CryBaby

Pairing: Cecil Dennis x g/n reader

Summary: kinktober day 18, Masturbation and Dacryphilia

Rating: 18+

Warnings/content: male masturbation, dacryphilia, Sub!Cecil and Dom!reader, praise, cock ring, mocking/degrading, "puppy" as a nickname, stripping, teasing, hair tugging, edging, crotch sniffing?? Idek, hookup type situation, lmk if there's anything else i should add :).

Word count: 1,296

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.

…………………………………………….......................

You hate how well Cecil has perfected his puppy dog eyes, because they always work on you. His big brown eyes soften and his eyebrows pull into an almost pained expression anytime he wants to get his way. He's even started adding a pout to his expression, one that just makes you want to grab his stupid blushing face and kiss him till you're both begging for air.

As he looks up at you now with that same expression, you find it hard to repeat the words you'd sneered just seconds earlier.

"Touch yourself." You finally say, though with a lot less conviction than before.

The man whines at his failed plan, palm pressing against his crotch seemingly in protest. "I ain't even done anything wrong though!"

Your lip curls a little at his brattiness. "I know you haven't," you lean down to him, face close to his, "but I wanna watch you fuck your hand, that alright with you?"

Cecil lets out a soft groan and then nods, giving up the bratiness just as quickly as he'd displayed it. He looks down at his crotch and starts undoing his tattered jeans, hands shaking a little with excitement and pulling out his cock for you to see in full glory.

You'd convinced him to put on that cock ring you'd purchased for him under the guise it'd make his orgasm feel better, but really you just wanted him to last more than 3 fucking minutes.

His tip weeps precum while the base of his cock twitches, making the whole length bob before he shakily wraps his hand around himself and spreads the precum messily over the shaft with a soft sigh.

You lick your lips almost instinctively while you watch him, eyes dragging over his body and observing the way he's already drawn in on himself just from some simple touches; maybe he likes being watched, or maybe he's just always like this when he jacks off, that wouldn't surprise you. 

"Good boy." The praise just comes from you automatically now, given positive reinforcement by the way his cock twitches and he moans. "Go on, carry on baby, lemme see you touch yourself like you do when you're alone."

"I–I can't, I need something to use, y'know? Like a porn mag or… you." His bottom lip sticks out.

That makes your tummy flutter. You give him a sheepish eye before placing yourself on the bed opposite him, your crotch directly in his eyeline from his position kneeling on the floor. Slowly, your hands reach down to the hem of your shirt and you pull it over your head, throwing it in his direction so it lands over his head.

The man scrambles to pull it from his face as his hand already starts moving on himself, long and slow strokes that remind you of the way he fucks you at first. "Yeah, i love that body…" His tongue hangs from his mouth, which is usually something you'd find a turn-off if it was anyone else, but admittedly it's endearing from the slightly odd man.

A smile spreads across your lips and you run your hands over your body and sides to tease him, lingering on some of the marks he'd left you with days ago. "And you love fucking marking it too." You scowl at him, though it's more playful than mean, just wanting to tease him for how excited he gets over you. Leisurely you bring your fingers further and further up till you reach your nipples to take them between your fingers and play with them, letting out soft moans and rocking your hips as you do when he touches you like this.

A pant comes from the other's lips as his eyes struggle to focus on your fingers teasing your pebbled nerves. 

"Can I not even touch them? This seems super unfair." He frowns and leans forward.

You place your foot on his thigh to push him back, making a pathetic whine explode from the frustrated man and his hand work faster on himself. 

"No, stay there, puppy." 

Another moan erupts from him, and usually that'd be enough to make him dismally cum, but as his hips buck wildly he finds himself chasing an orgasm that's just out of reach. "Fuck! It's this stupid ring, you put some kinda witchy magic on it."

"Nah, it's just basic biology, my love. Now, you gonna play nice or not?" You ask sternly.

He whines, cock throbbing again. "Yeah yeah, ok." 

Sitting back on his heels in defeat, he thrusts into his hand once again, though this time he feels more sensitive and it makes his eyes roll back briefly.

"Good boy." Your smile returns and you continue to undress yourself, this time lifting your hips to pull your jeans off in one smooth motion and opening your legs to him.

Cecil lurches forward eagerly despite your warnings, but before you can object he's burying his face between your thighs to take in your scent. It makes you clamp your legs shut around his head and a moan rumble in your chest; why is his neediness so attractive to you? It'd be kinda weird if it was anyone else, but when it's him it's almost expected.

You can hear him panting between your legs and you quickly open them again to let him breath, apologising briefly to which he shakes his head.

"Love being between your thighs, even if I can't fucking breathe, just feels so nice..." he whimpers out, hips now furiously fucking his fist and trying to meet some kind of end to the intense pleasure burning in his stomach. A wail reverberates through your skin and you notice him angrily press his face to your thigh, biting the skin softly. 

As much as you love that, you can't have him being a brat again.

You grab a fistful of his hair and tug his head back, a strangled sob bursting from his lips at the surprise, his shaking hand teasing his tip in an attempt to make himself cum.

"Don't be a brat. Maybe if you could last 2 fucking minutes you wouldn't have to wear that thing."

Another moan comes from his chest, and you notice him rubbing himself faster, despite the tears welling in his eyes.

You smirk; your precious crybaby loves a bit of degrading.

"You're lucky you know how to use that stupid mouth, otherwise I would've gotten rid of you a long time ago, slut." 

His jaw hangs open and his chest heaves with pants and whimpers, eyes squeezed shut and making pleasured tears roll down his face till he can taste the saltiness on his tongue.

"I love it when you cry, pretty boy, makes me wanna tease you over and over till you're just a mess on the floor—" you lean forward and lick a strip up his face to catch the tears.

Finally he's coming over his hand with loud moans and choked out noises, cum spilling from his tip like a fucking fountain as he fists every last drop he has out of himself, only whimpers and shakes left.

You release the grip you had in his hair and cup his face instead to kiss his nose, meeting his gaze with a big smile as he calms down from ultimately the best orgasm he's ever had.

"You good, love?" You check, pushing the curls sticking to his forehead out of the way so you can kiss it.

Cecil nods tiredly and presses his face into your touch. "Yeah, I'm good."

The smile stays on your lips as you stroke his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles.

"I hate this stupid thing… but… can I keep it?"

You laugh softly. "Yeah, of course Cecil." 

...........................................................................

Prompts by: @/flightlessangelwings

Tagging people: @cowboymarcs @sad1st1c-wh0re @poopoobuttsy @boredzillenial @mllover260 @simpforbritgents @saevenswelt @partssoldseparately @keira-kaz2y5 @theincredibleinkspitter @l-lune @red-hydra @queerponcho @summonthesoups @motleyfolk @steven-grants-world @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

(Lmk if you wanna be added or taken off the tag list and i will work my magic 👍)

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Little Lady Masterlist

Maggie's Trevor

age twenty

"Hello? Is this the right Trevor? Maggie's Trevor?"

"Uh, yeah?" Is Trevor's unsure response, hearing the voice of a woman that is very much not his best friend.

"My names Emma, I'm a friend of Mags, we're nursing students together," The girl explains, "We're at this TKE party right now and she's drunk off her ass. I asked who I should call and she said you were the man," She continues to explain, the music loud in the background, making it hard for her to be heard. "So... can you come get her?"

Oh. This girl doesn't know he lives on the West Coast.

"Uh, I live in California actually," Trevor explains, uncomfortable in that fact that he can't get to Maggie.

"Oh shit, I knew her boyfriend lived far away, but I thought like, an hour," Is the girls response, flustering the boy on the other end.

"Oh, I'm not her boyfriend, we've just been friends for years," He corrects, knowing there's fresh color on his cheeks, even in the dark of his room.

"Ha, just friends my ass Trevor," Is the girl's bold response, Maggie's voice floating into the background. "You must not know how she talks about you," Emma continues.

"Oh?"

"Is that Trevy?!" Maggie can be heard screaming on the other side, drunker than he's ever heard her.

"Mags? Is that you sweetheart?" Trev asks, her giggling in response.

"Trevy, come give me a hug!"

"Mags I'm in Cali-"

"No no, come give me a hug, I miss you," The brunette mumbles, choking up.

Waving at Jamie across from him for his phone, Trevor types in Jack's number, letting it ring.

"I miss you too Mags, but you know I'm in Anaheim."

"Trev? What the hell man do you know what time it is over here?" Jack's exhausted voice grumbles through the phone that's up to his other ear.

Muting his own while Maggie is distracted, mumbling things to the friend who called, Trevor turns his attention to the other twin.

"Dude, Mags friend called me to pick her up and clearly I can't do that. You need to get your ass up and go pick up your sister."

You could hear Jack wake up just by the sound of his voice. "Do you know where she is?"

"Maggie, where are you again? Do you know the name of the bar?" Trevor switches over, Jamie trying not to laugh at the back and forth.

"TKE! My friend's brother is a brother!" She exclaims, Trevor relaying that info to her twin, said boy hanging up with a quick "I'm on my way" and leaving Trevor to distract Maggie.

"That sounds fun, how're you feeling?"

"Like I miss you," Is Mag's response once more, the alcohol taking away any filter the already openly flirtatious girl might have had. "You being in Anaheim sucks. You should move in with Jack and I."

"Baby, I play for the Anaheim Ducks, you know I can't do that from Jersey."

"Trev! We're 20 years old! How dare you settle down, and with someone other than me, no less," The girl nearly cries, leaving the loud environment she was once in in favor of quiet. "

"Maggie baby, what are you talking about? I live with Jamie?" It's moments like these he wishes they were dating, that he had gotten up the courage already to ask her out. Maybe this past summer at the lake house, maybe a few years ago when the boys gave him permission.

"Yeah, Jamie boy is taking my man!" She protests, the words echoing through the speaker function that Trevor had just activated, making the Canadian laugh.

"Your man?" Trev can't help but ask, a smirk on his face at the expression.

"You'd be my man if you'd ask me out already, I know you have my brother's permission," The girl admits, Trevor's face dropping at the admission.

"You- you what?"

"Oh! Trevor you won't believe it! Jacky is here! Jacky, say hi to Trev!" A near squeal unfurls, Jack's voice being the next thing a still confused Trevor hears.

"Z, hey, I'm going to get her home, she'll be feeling this tomorrow."

And at first he nods, realizing a moment later what he had done and responding, saying a quick goodbye just as Jack had done earlier.

When he looks up, Jamie is there, laptop turned in Trevor's direction and brows through the roof. "So, this is the first flight to Newark for tomorrow."

"What?"

"Dude," Jamie can't help the judgement in his voice. "Grow a pair and go get the girl."

[a-killer-obsession]

Wavelengths [Killer x Reader, Heat x Reader]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 11 - Trial and Error

You try something new, and Kid makes a big mistake.

WC: ~8k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth

You stared awkwardly at the wide range of brightly coloured vibrators and dildos on display in the store. You had no fucking clue what you were looking at or what you were supposed to pick out. Heat had somewhat temporarily abandoned you to peruse the porn selection, and you looked over your shoulder for him anxiously, wondering if you should just give up and go bug him for help.

“Doing okay darlin’?” an older woman with bright pink hair approached you. She had a nametag, indicating she worked here, but otherwise wore casual looking clothing. The smile on her face was gentle and soothing, you felt immediately more comfortable with her there.

“Yeah um.. I think I need some help,” you admitted, “I'm not really sure what I'm looking for”

“Of course baby,” the woman cooed, “we've got all the features written out under the price tags, do any of them sound interesting? I could show ya how they work on your hand if you'd like”

“I um… I can't read,” you told her anxiously, feeling defeated. A room full of dildos and porn, and this was what made you embarrassed. She didn't seem like the kind of woman who would taunt you about it though.

“Oh that's no problem sweetheart!” The woman said, “I'm happy to help. What sort of things do you like? Clitoral stimulation? Penetration? Nipple play?”

“She's still figuring things out,” Heat told the woman, appearing like a saviour beside you, a handful of porn mags in hand, “she only just got out of a bad situation recently so she's not had much opportunity to learn what she enjoys”

“You the boyfriend?” the woman asked curiously.

“Uh, just a friend helping her figure herself out,” Heat answered with a nervous laugh, “she likes clit stimulation, and she recently discovered she likes receiving oral, so I'm thinking one of those suction toys that simulate it might work good for her, but something for her to explore penetration on her own wouldn't go amiss either. Give your what you'd consider an exploration starter kit, money isn't a issue”

“Very good, I have just the toys!” she picked up a small, purple dildo, tapered at the end and with a very slight bulge to the top. The overall shape was smooth and elegant, wide enough to be pleasurable but slimmer than the average penis, something ideal for a virgin to experiment with. Of course, you had been penetrated before, but there was no need to worry this woman with the horrific details of your past sexual encounters. She held down the button on the end and it started to vibrate, and she held it gently against the back of your hand so you could feel it. Your eyes widened as the woman clicked the button a few more times, making the vibrations more intense, before handing it to you for you to explore the settings on your own. You had the sudden realisation that your vibrating abilities thanks to your devil fruit were maybe far more useful than you'd initially thought, but it wouldn't hurt to have something to replicate the ideal levels. You didn't want to accidentally overdo it and hurt yourself after all.

“This one is what I recommend for newbies,” she explained, “its cable rechargeable, waterproof, easy to clean, and has 15 different settings ranging from gentle vibrations to more intense pulsing. It's ideal for both clitoral stimulation and penetration”

You handed the toy back to the woman who turned it off and returned it to its display holder, before selecting another toy. “Now, in terms of suction toys, you can't beat this model. It has ten power settings, waterproof, cable rechargeable, near silent, and the slim profile makes it ideal for using in tandem with penetrative sex. Paired with a good lubricant it offers orgasms that will truly blow you away with very little effort on your part”

“She'll take both,” Heat answered for you.

“Very good, now I'm assuming she also requires cleaning supplies and lubricants?” The woman asked.

“Yeah, get her whatever you recommend,” Heat said, “and these too, please” he continued, holding out the magazines for the woman.

“Very good, I'll get everything collected and rung up for you at the counter, let me know if you need my help with anything else” the woman smiled, taking the mags from Heat and collecting several boxes from the shelves under the displays, before walking away to collect a few other things. She met you at the counter and began to scan and bag the items. “Your friend must care about you a lot, this is quite the kind gesture” she noted to you as she scanned the last item and slid it into a discreet, unmarked bag.

“She deserves it, after the shit she's been through,” Heat told her. The woman smiled sadly in response, and you got the sense that maybe she had an inclination of what you'd been through. Given you still looked pretty boney even after a few weeks of eating well, it was probably clear that you'd been abused quite badly, you still had the clear physical appearance of someone who had been starved for a long time.

Heat paid for the items with a generous tip and thanked her for her help, leading your excited but nervous self out of the store before you could burn a hole with your eyes into the massive dragon themed dildo you'd been staring at curiously that stood proudly on display behind the counter.

Heat followed you back to your room at the inn after running errands together, still carrying your shopping bag like the gentleman he was. The two of you had already left most of what he'd bought with a couple of henchmen to be taken back to the ship. It was late afternoon now, soon the others would be gathering at a nearby pub that Killer had picked out for dinner. Kid wasn't a fan of fancy restaurants, but pubs had a much more casual atmosphere, more suited to his tastes.

“You gonna try out your new stuff?” Heat smirked as he pulled your things out of the paper bag that hid the adult store items, leaving just his mags inside to bring back to his own room later.

“I was gonna have a shower, actually,” you replied, sliding off your shoes and pulling your toiletries from your duffle bag, “did you want to join me?” you added with a coy smile on your face. There'd been dirty thoughts in your head all day since Heat had explained oral to you, and the trip to the adult store certainly hadn't helped the situation.

Heat squinted at you, trying to decide if you were serious. Sure you'd fooled around plenty, but you'd never been below the belt with him, he'd been holding off till he felt like you were ready. He wanted you to learn how you liked to be pleased before you focused on anyone else. To be fair though, you had slept with Delilah last night, so maybe you were ready to experiment on other people. And if pleasing others was what made you feel good, who was he to deny you? Lord knew he got off making you feel good.

“What's that face for?” You mused, already half undressed and on your way to the door of the attached bathroom, mask discarded and seastone in hand.

“Are you sure you're ready for that?” Heat asked you with genuine concern.

“Yeah, I'm sure,” you smiled, tugging on his hand to pull him to the bathroom, “to be honest I really liked pleasing Delilah last night, I wanna please you too”

“You don't have to do that,” he said softly, while you tugged at the lacing on his corset to loosen it.

“But I want to,” you purred. Your genuine smile made his heart flutter and his dick twitch. Fuck you were hard to say no to.

You finished undressing and turned the shower on, adjusting the temperature before stepping in. You stood under the stream for a moment, letting the warm water wash over you, before giving him an almost tender, inviting glance. He sighed in defeat and finished undressing, sliding in behind you. It was a reasonably sized shower, big enough to fit Heat's large frame beside you, but small enough that you were forced to stand somewhat close. You let out a contented sigh as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his front and pressing kisses along your collarbone. You twisted in his arms to face him, pulling him down with arms around his neck so you could kiss him, he was so goddamn tall.

The water spilled over you both as you smoothed your tongue against his, and you pressed hard against his front, rubbing your soft abdomen against his growing erection. You could feel the cool metal of the piercings on the underside pressing against your skin. Out of curiosity you pulled away from the kiss, wanting to see better, and he gave you space to look, proud of his size and not at all uncomfortable with your staring.

“You can touch it, if you want,” he told you reassuringly. Your eyes flicked to his quickly before returning to his dick, a hesitant hand coming up and running along the underside, admiring the weight of it, before wrapping your fingers as much as you could around the base and stroking it gently. The skin there was surprisingly smooth, like velvet in your palm, and you ran your hand carefully over the piercings, scared you might hurt him. His hand wrapped around yours as he groaned at the first feeling of your warm touch on him, and he encouraged you to squeeze a little firmer, guiding your hand to stroke up and down near the base the way he liked. He let go as you got the gist of it, your eyes shifting between watching yourself stroke him, and his face as he groaned quietly and supported himself against the wall behind you.

“That's it- hnng- good girl,” Heat groaned, “just like that”

The pleasurable sounds he was making made arousal pool between your legs and you found yourself rubbing your thighs together to get friction. You only had one free hand, since you needed the other for your seastone, and unfortunately for you it was currently in use.

“Heat, can you hold my seastone against me?” You asked, holding it out for him. He nodded and took it from you, careful to make sure it stayed against your skin as he slid the small pebble up your arm, resting it against your shoulder. You held his hand to your shoulder as you started to kneel, his eyes growing wide in surprise.

“Yin, you don't have to do that, just your hand is enough,” he told you.

“But I want to,” you said, squatting in front of him, still pumping him while your other newly freed hand ran over his thigh. Your mouth was centimetres away from his tip now, and you looked up at him with eyes that were dark with lust. “I want to taste you so fucking bad,” you purred, running your nose against the side of his cock. He grunted and gave in immediately to your dirty words.

“Fuck, okay,” he moaned, “just- don't push yourself too far. If you don't like it we can stop, I won't be angry”

You smiled at your victory and gave him an experimental kitten lick against the side you'd been nuzzling, before making more kitten licks all over. Precum started to leak from the tip as he watched you, and you observed it curiously before lapping it up and humming contently. You weren't sure what you were supposed to do, so you just kept swirling your tongue around the head, looking up at him with innocent eyes as he grunted.

“Put it in your mouth baby, suck on it,” he purred, sensing your were in need of some guidance and petting the top of your head, “just watch out for your teeth”

You hesitantly did as you were instructed, sucking him into your mouth maybe a little too harshly. His hips bucked forward and forced himself further in, making you gag a little in surprise. “Fuck, sorry baby,” he pulled away from you, “you just felt so fucking good”

To his surprise, you weren't at all fazed, instead unbelievably turned on by the idea of him being deeper inside you. After all, you'd only ever had his fingers. It felt dirty having him in your mouth, and you suddenly wanted him to fill you. You ran your tongue back over the head of his cock before swallowing him again, concentrating on suppressing the need to gag as you took him as far as you could down your throat, nestling your nose against his pubes and looking up at him with doe eyes. His eyes were wide as you paused with him deep down your throat, your eyes watering a little but determined to keep him inside you as you swallowed around him.

“Fuck, Yin,” he groaned, “fuck”

You let him go, keeping your hand on the base of his dick and stroking more as you caught your breath. “Did I do good? Should I do it again?” You cooed, looking up at him for praise.

“Yes baby, you're being such a good girl for me,” he cooed. It was becoming quite apparent to him that you had a praise kink, even if you didn't realise it so he made sure to play into it. “You're doing so good, make it go in and out of your mouth baby”

You took him back in your mouth and bobbed your head back and forth, rubbing your tongue against the piercings on the underside as you moved. You were determined to please him, practically suckling on him as you moved. He was leaning against the wall holding on for dear life while you went down on him, trying to keep it together enough to keep the seastone pressed to your shoulder. One of your hands returned to his shaft, stroking him at a pace to match your mouth, while the other slid between your legs, where your pussy was spread wide open as you squatted in front of him. You felt so in control and knowing that it was you making him moan was making you unbearably horny, so you fingered yourself furiously. He could hear the lewd sounds of your fingers pumping in and out of you, and it made him lose control, the coil in his stomach ready to spring at any second.

“Fuck, Yin, I'm gonna-” he pulled out with the intention of cumming on the shower floor, so you wouldn't be surprised by it in your mouth, but he'd reacted too late and instead spurted hot white threads of cum over your face, forcing you to close one eye. “Sorry, fuck, sorry Yin”

You wiped the cum off your eye and looked at the sticky substance on your hand, before licking it off curiously. You found yourself liking the salty taste, aroused by the fact that it had come out of him, and that you had made it come out, so you wiped the rest from your face, pushing it into your mouth and licking it off your fingers, humming contently while he looked down at you with astonishment. On top of the praise kink, he was starting to think you had a thing for fluids, especially considering how you'd spoken about your time with Delilah, having gotten the more graphic details over lunch. When there was nothing on your face, you grabbed him again, forcing his over sensitive cock back into your mouth to milk him clean of anything left.

“Hnng- fuck- Yin,” he panted hard as he pressed his head against the cool tile wall, the water from the still running shower trickling down his back. You kissed your way up his chest as you stood, and nipped at his neck, humming contently at how utterly lewd and powerful you felt. You took the seastone from his weak hand and tilted his chin down towards you, forcing him to look at you, overcome with that feeling of power and desire.

“Heat, get on your fucking knees,” you growled.

His cock twitched back to life at your sudden confidence, and he dropped down in front of you immediately, draping your knee over his shoulder and immediately diving between your legs like a man starved. He’d wanted to do this for so long, having only ever tasted you off his fingers, wanting so badly to drink from the source. You pulled his hair tight as you leaned back against the shower wall, forcing his head to stay between your legs while he ate you out with fervour. You were slick with arousal and he moaned into you, holding your hips tight as he slid his thick tongue inside you and pumped you with it. You weren't the only one who enjoyed going down on a hot, wet pussy. He felt so fucking good inside you and you rolled your hips in time, letting him fuck you with his greedy tongue while his thumb worked away at your clit, till you felt your muscles tighten and you came suddenly with a shout on his face. Heat lapped up your release with a groan, both of your eyes closed in bliss as he worked you through the heavy orgasm.

Finally sated you let his hair go, and he carefully slid your leg off his shoulder, standing back up and pulling you close. You hugged each other tight while you came down from your high, and sighed contently at how warm and safe you felt with your naked body pressed against his under the running water. You leaned up on your tip toes and kissed him tenderly, tasting yourself on his lips, and pushing stray hair out of his face as you lowered yourself back into the hug.

“You're so incredible,” Heat mumbled into your shoulder, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

“Thank you, Heat, for letting me try that,” you purred happily, “it was fun,” you giggled.

“Any fucking time,” he laughed, “I don't think I'm gonna even bother to go find a woman tonight anymore, that was too fucking good”

You giggled again, filled with pride, and nuzzled into him, “me neither, I was going to go see Delilah again but, do you think maybe you'd want to stay with me tonight instead, Heat?” you looked up at him with warm, adoring eyes as he stood properly upright, his hands still on the small of your back, “this is nice, just being close to you”

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed, “I'll stay, but we have to go to dinner first. We can hang out after”

“That sounds good,” you mumbled, half asleep between his warm body and the warm water.

“Are we gonna actually wash while we're in here?” Heat laughed.

“Mmm… nah,” you replied, pressing your face in to his chest, “let's just stay like this”

“Okay sweetheart, that's fine by me,” he cooed, running a hand through your pretty purple hair.

The next day passed with not much of note. Heat woke up in your bed after more fooling around, and you helped him with the last of his errands before wandering aimlessly around the town together. There wasn't much to do if you weren't into winter sports, so you just hung out and got high in your inn room, while Heat happily let you explore his body further. You both decided to head back to the bar that night though, meeting up with the other commanders who already had women slung over their laps. Delilah seemed excited to see you again, and happily followed your back to your room once more, this time taking full advantage of your devil fruit, as well as your new toys and newfound confidence. She left as you were waking the next morning, promising to see you later at the bar.

It was evening again, and the men were all taking full advantage of their last night on shore, the bar now filled with Kid Pirates all hoping to get laid one last time before setting sail tomorrow morning. You were one of the last to arrive, having decided to take an afternoon nap which had accidentally gone a little long, and grabbing a quick bite in the restaurant next door to the inn before heading to the brothel where you knew the others would be. Delilah was already in the booth, and you were surprised to see her fawning over Kid. You didn't feel a pang of jealousy though, you knew Delilah was a working woman who had already sacrificed two nights of potential income to sleep with you, and considering how late you were she probably thought you weren't coming at all, so she'd no doubt decided to make some cash with a paying customer instead.

“Yin!” she exclaimed as soon as she saw you, “I thought I wasn't going to have the pleasure of your company tonight!”

The booth was full, so you decided to just slide on to Heat's currently empty lap, who graciously wrapped his arms around your waist and indicated to a passing waitress to bring another drink.

“Yeah sorry, nap ran long,” you yawned, “did I miss anything?”

“Delilah was just telling me about your fun little vibrating trick,” Kid laughed, “sounds like the two of you had fun last night. Our sweet Delilah missed you the other night, but I took real good care of her for you”

You were unphased by Kid's attempt at teasing, thinking that you would at least have some inclination to be jealous or petty about Kid stealing ‘your’ woman. Unfortunately for him, you couldn't care less, especially not when you'd spent that time with Heat instead, so it's not like you were missing out. Kid scowled at the lack of reaction, more interested in the drink the waitress had just dropped off for you, and picked up his own drink with a heavy frown.

“I didn't know you and the blue haired one were an item,” Delilah noted, observing the casual way you sat on Heat's lap, “kind of him to let you play with me”

“Well, they do say sharing is caring,” you winked at Kid who almost choked on his drink, “Heat and I are just friends though”

“Friends with significant benefits,” Wire laughed.

“They're very good benefits,” you smirked. Heat started to go pink behind you and cleared his throat.

Delilah gave Kid a knowing look before sliding closer to you, pulling your thigh so it rested on her lap instead of Heat's. It left your legs spread wide open under the table as Delilah's hand ran up your inner thigh teasingly. “Maybe you'd like to join our little party with the captain then?”

You froze and Heat could feel your muscles tensing, you were definitely uncomfortable at the suggestion. “Yin doesn't fuck around with the captain,” Killer interrupted before Heat could come to your defense. He felt sorry for you, looking just as scared as you had when Kid had pinned you to the table, and he had no doubt you were remembering that exact moment.

‘Oh? How come?” Delilah purred, still determined to sway you into a threesome.

“None of your business,” Killer snapped. You gave him a look that, even with most of your face obscured by your mask, still read as a silent thank you. His protectiveness was unexpected, but welcomed.

Delilah let the topic go, sensing there was something she was missing here, and slid back over to Kid. “Well, maybe I'll just come say hello later,” she added, “after your captain is done with me”

“If you can walk by the time I'm done with you,” Kid smirked. Killer groaned at the cocky remark and rolled his eyes under the mask.

You felt strange, suddenly feeling like a burden, and slipped off Heat's lap to stand. Once again you were being dropped for someone who would do more, it made you feel insecure and insignificant. “I think maybe I'll head to bed actually,” you said. There was a hint of sadness in your voice that the other commanders didn't miss, “I think maybe that nap wasn't quite enough, I'll see you guys tomorrow. It was nice meeting you, Delilah”

You walked away without another word, not really entirely sure in yourself why you were leaving. You just knew you felt like you didn't really belong here anymore, despite Killer's kind defence of you, and maybe you'd feel more comfortable spending the night alone for once.

It was late when a knock came on your door. You groaned and dragged yourself out of bed. You hadn't really been asleep anyway, just laying in bed, thinking. You were surprised to find a very drunk Delilah leaning against the frame when you opened the door. She was half naked, her hair in disarray, the smell of sex and alcohol strong on her. She pushed her way into the room, closing the door behind her. You didn't try to stop her, welcoming the distraction.

It wasn't long before you were both falling asleep, naked and spent, after several rounds of messy fucking and some special use of your devil fruit. Or at least, that's how it looked at a glance. As soon as she heard the soft sounds of your snoring, Delilah gave up her masquerade and slipped out of the bed, hastily throwing on her clothes and grabbing your mask from the side table before leaving. She stopped at the door, throwing you one last guilty look, before quietly sliding out and heading back to Kid's room.

Not getting a rise out of you earlier had pissed him off, and a pissed off Kid, combined with alcohol, was never a good mix. He'd had a curiosity about your mask since you came on board, but Killer had always berated him for even thinking about touching it. But Killer wasn't here right now, and Kid was pissed off, so he'd paid Delilah handsomely to get the mask for him. She felt awful about it, but a berri was a berri - she had bills to pay, and she’d probably never see you again anyway. He probably could have gotten it himself, but Killer would have drowned him if he'd found out he'd gone to your room and scared you. At least this way you got a few orgasms out of the arrangement, he praised himself for being so kind.

Nothing seemed amiss when you woke up, stretching and yawning, wiping the sleep from your eyes. You flopped back down, not quite ready yet to open your eyes. With a groan you reached your hand over to the side table, dropping your seastone in favour of your mask. It clattered against the wooden floor as you missed the unfamiliar table, so used to the size and position of your table back on the ship. No worries, you'd just pick it up in a minute. You kept your eyes closed as you reached for your mask, it was easier to avoid being overwhelmed that way. It was a bad habit, really, letting go of the seastone before grabbing the mask, but if you did it this way you only needed one hand, and you were lazy. You found the surface with your hand, patting around blindly for it, and finding the surface empty. Maybe you knocked it down in your sleep? Not a problem, it was made of a metal shell, so you'd be able to make it out on the floor if you opened your eyes.

You could see far too much when you opened them, the wooden walls and furniture of the room becoming basically invisible as you saw right through them, save for the occasional pipe or wire or nail. You could see people in the other rooms, all Kid Pirates and a handful of working women, since the rest of the inn's residents had fled when the crew checked in. It was hard to tell who was who, just warm bodies scattered in a void of space, broken up by the occasional metal from a door handle, or weapon, or the small personal safes that each room featured. Most of them seemed to be doing something akin to packing, some of them still horizontal, sleeping you assumed. A few were a few interacting with other bodies, no doubt getting in last minute romps before they set off.

You shook your head and tried to focus, you knew from experience that you only had a few minutes before you became overwhelmed, it was important you found your mask before then. You set your sights on where the floor of your room should have been, and scowled when you found no sign of your mask. You looked around where you estimated the boundaries of your room to be, finding only your dagger and sword, and the metal inner workings of the toys Heat had bought you the other day. Your shoulders twitched as the buzzing noise around you started to creep in, becoming louder as you grew disoriented and your focus began to falter. Your last hope was the seastone, you would be able to see it if you looked, since it nullified your ability. Seastone created something of a void in your vision whenever you looked at it without your mask, not so much a physical object, more just a complete lack of anything.

You underestimated where the edge of the bed was and fell, landing face first on the hard floor. You raised yourself up on your hands, beginning to lose your hold on reality. You could see the seastone, but it seemed like it was under the bed. You felt for the edge of the bedframe and tried your best to reach under, but the bed was too low and your arm was too short, flapping around uselessly under the bed as your shoulder drove painfully into the bedframe. Panic was setting in as you felt yourself starting to slip away, so you turned desperately to where you had seen your katana, hoping you could slide it under the bed to free the stone.

You were crawling towards it on your hands and knees, twitching, when it finally became all too much. You curled into a ball and whimpered, you couldn't even make out your own voice over the deafening sound of everything, so you had no idea if you'd be able to yell for help. Would it be loud enough for anyone to hear? Would you even be saying anything coherent? You couldn't tell, and your heart rate was spiking as you began to hyperventilate, the twitching becoming more frequent as you became hyper aware of every molecule of air vibrating around you.

You pushed yourself up onto your knees and desperately looked around, too far gone to know what you were looking for or what you needed. That was when you spotted it. Your mask.

Or at least, what looked like parts of your mask. And in front of it, the unmistakable metal-armed body of Eustass Kid. An inhuman growl escaped you as you realised that he had your mask, and he was disassembling it. A bloodlust sparked in you, those feral instincts that had long since laid dormant taking over as your mind singled in on one goal - kill Kid. Kill Kid, kill Kid, KILL KID.

You rushed towards him, smashing into and bouncing off a wall you hadn't seen, or had forgotten existed, and you roared at it like it had personally offended you. You pressed your hand to it, vibrating the wood till the molecules broke apart and it scattered into dust, leaving a hole in the wall for you to pass through. You continued this way on a direct route to Kid - charging forward, crashing into a wall, destroying it, continuing. You passed through a room and a body approached you. You didn't recognise them, seeing only their blood and their organs and their bones, and went on the attack, in defence against someone you had no way of knowing was harmless. In your fury you liquified their insides, not even bothering to watch their lifeless body fall as you continued on your war path. It had been one of the henchmen, and the woman he had been with screamed, running panicked for her life. You did not hear it.

The body you were zeroing in on perked its head in the direction of the scream, about to stand, when you came barreling through the wall. Your eyes were lifeless and empty and you were breathing like a rabid animal, twitching like you were covered in fire ants as you approached Kid. He stood to defend himself, immediately realising he’d fucked up, and you charged, jumping at him and sinking your teeth deep into his neck till you tasted blood. You could have killed him quickly the same way you had the henchman, but you wanted to make his pain last longer, you didn't want to make it a quick kill. You wanted to feel him bleed out, feel his hot blood pooling while he cried out, hear and see his heart take its last weak pump. You coated your body in armament haki, making yourself a bullet proof leech as he fruitlessly punched and clawed at you, falling to the ground in his struggle.

Killer had been finishing the last of his packing when he heard the scream. Shrill, terrified, the sound of a woman who thought their life was in genuine danger. He could only assume a henchman had gone too far, and tutted as he left his room, preparing to scold whoever had made the poor woman scream. He caught the tail end of her as she raced down the hall, mostly naked, disappearing down a stairwell. Retracing to the open door she had come from, he cleared his throat in preparation for yelling, but stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed the hole in the wall. It was a perfect circle, a large pile of wood dust sitting under it, like someone had painstakingly sanded away at the wall layer by layer. He stepped through the hole and immediately regretted not bringing his weapons when he found the body of a henchman, lifeless on the floor, a pink goo and dark blood dripping from every orifice. His open eyelids revealed empty holes where his eyes should have been, a pool of liquid dripping from them instead. He almost gagged under the mask, it was a gruesome sight even for him.

He was about to investigate closer when Kid began to shout nearby, and his head snapped in the direction of the yelling to find two more perfect holes, Kid falling to the ground in a struggle on the other side of them. Killer ran, ready to destroy whoever or whatever had dared to attack his captain, weapons be damned he'd use his bare fists if he had to.

He panicked when what he found was you, your unmistakable purple hair swinging back and forth as Kid tried to roll to get you off him, revealing your teeth deep in his neck as he moved. He was smacking you with his metal arm, and you were entirely unphased, covered in the metal shimmer of strong armament haki. A quick glance around the room to look for a weapon or something he could use to subdue you and he spotted your mask, dismantled on the desk of the large room. He growled under his own mask in anger as he put two and two together.

He leaned over the two of you and grabbed your face, sticking his fingers in the corners of your mouth to force your teeth out of Kid's bleeding neck, like you were a wild dog. You made a feral sound that made a shiver run down his spine as he attempted to pry open your jaw, but with more force than he would like he was able to loosen your bite enough to pull you away. Moving on pure instinct he ripped off his mask, jamming it on your head to muzzle you before pressing you to the floor, using his entire weight to pin you down. You roared and fought back, but after a few moments you began to settle, your armament haki dissipating and the feral growls turning to small sad whimpers as you calmed.

“Kid what the fuck did you do,” Killer growled, turning his uncovered face to look at Kid, who was trying his best to stop the bleeding on his neck with a discarded shirt. The unbridled rage was clear on Killer's face, his piercing blue eyes told Kid he was ready to kill him. A sight he hadn't seen since they were kids, it shook him to his core. “I told you, I fucking told you NOT TO FUCKING TOUCH HER MASK”

“BUT SHE PISSED ME OFF!” Kid snapped back, “I just wanted to have a look! She had her seastone! It was fine!”

“Evidently Kid, it was not fucking fine. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Killer snapped, “put it back together, NOW. I'm fucking serious Kid, I will fucking kill you myself if she doesn't do it first, there is nothing stopping her right now from liquifying both of us at any second”

“Fuck, okay, okay, I'm doing it,” Kid grumbled, immediately putting his devil fruit in to action to manipulate the mask pieces while he continued to hold the shirt to his neck. “Why is she calm now? Shouldn't she still be rabid?”

“She told me my mask is a blind spot for her, so I thought it might dull her senses,” he explained, “she gets like that because she's overwhelmed, so I was hoping blocking most shit out would help.”

You'd stopped fighting him entirely, and he wondered if it was okay to let you go now. He lifted himself off you slowly and you stayed where you were, but reached for him blindly. He figured you were probably terrified, so he stayed sitting cross legged on the floor next to you, and pulled you into his lap protectively, letting you burrow into him and use him as an anchor. The mask made it tricky, and you whimpered as you bumped awkwardly into his chest, but you managed to wrap yourself around him anyway, sitting in his lap facing him, with your legs and arms wrapped firmly around him while you made sad little sniffles. He did his best to comfort you, keeping you held tight against him and stroking your back. It was weird seeing you in his mask, he'd never let anyone wear it, but it'd been the first thing he'd thought of to sedate you. He didn't like however that there was currently a massive hole in the wall behind them where anyone could walk in at any time and see his unmasked face.

Kid stood over the two of you and cleared his throat, interrupting Killer who was apparently lost in his thoughts, idly rocking you back and forth. Kid was holding your mask out for him to take. “You good, Kil?”

“Yeah it's just.. weird to see someone in my mask..” he replied, taking your own mask from him. He sighed and removed his mask from you, quickly putting it back over his own head before putting yours on you. The second you felt the familiar pressure sliding on you grabbed it like a lifering, pulling it in to place and quickly switching it on.

When you finally opened your eyes you yelped, seeing Killer's mask so close to you, then looking down and realising you were in his lap. Not just in his lap, but effectively straddling him, your legs wrapped tight around his waist. You scrambled backwards out of it, backing up against the side of Kid's bed. “SORRY, SORRY!” you squeaked out as a visible blush spread down your face and neck.

“It's fine,” Killer assured you, hiding his own blush as he realised just how close you'd been, feeling the distinct absence of your weight and warmth. “Are you okay?”

You looked between Killer and Kid, who had a trail of blood down his chest as he held pressure on his neck, then you looked around and realised this was most definitely not your room.

“What- what happened?” You whispered, “did I- did I go feral?”

“You tried to take a fucking chunk out of me,” Kid growled. Killer shot him a dangerous look. It didn't matter that he had a mask back on, Kid knew the look well anyway. He quickly shut his mouth.

“Kid took your mask,” Killer explained, “and he's really fucking sorry, aren't you Kid?”

“I just wanted a look…” Kid replied like a scorned child.

“Kid,” Killer snapped.

“OKAY, FUCK, I'm sorry Yin, I didn't know you would actually go feral,” he mumbled, “what happened to your seastone?”

You scowled at him, doing your best to not just snap and kill him right then and there out of principle, “it fell on the floor when I was switching to my mask, which would usually be fine, if someone hadn't fucking taken it”

“I said I'm sorry okay!” He yelled.

“I don't fucking care what you say, you're fucking lucky I don't kill you right fucking now,” you spat, standing up and rushing at him, an accusatory finger poking him in the chest, “what the fuck is wrong with you Kid? Killer warned you what would happen, are you fucking stupid? I COULD HAVE KILLED YOU, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”

Killer was standing behind you now, resting a calming hand on your shoulder, pulling you gently away from Kid, “That's enough, one life lost is enough for today”

You snapped your head towards Killer, “one life lost? Did I fucking kill someone? Oh my god tell me it wasn't Heat please”

“Heat is fine, I assume,” Killer assured you, “it was just a henchman. No big deal”

You let out a heavy sigh and looked at Kid with an apologetic expression, “Sorry, Captain”

“This ones on me,” Kid sighed. You took a few steps closer and gave him a hesitant look before delicately pulling his hand that held the shirt away from his neck to inspect it.

“Fuck,” you whispered, standing on your tippy toes to be able to see properly, “the bleeding looks like its stopped but you should probably see Mohawk about this, I went pretty deep. Sorry Kid. I've always did tend to go for the jugular when I'm feral, doesn't help that its one of the only things I can see”

“Don't worry about it,” he mumbled, “lesson learned, I won't touch your precious mask again”

You sighed again and took a few steps back, apologising again before turning to leave. That's when you spotted the series of perfectly circular holes that led directly to your room and pinched the bridge of your nose. “Well, that's new,” you sighed, walking through the holes back to your room, stopping to glance at the dead henchman on your way. You didn't even know his name, so you exhaled in relief, no love lost.

Killer gave Kid one more warning glance before following you back through the holes to check on you, not fully convinced that you were fine.

“You okay?” He asked as he stood in the eave of the last hole, watching you hurriedly pack your things. He couldn't help but notice the new toys as you shoved them unceremoniously into your duffle bag, but he tried his best to shake the dirty thoughts they brought up.

“I'm fucking peachy, Kil,” you muttered, before taking your katana and using it to retrieve your seastone from under the bed. “Stupid fucking rock,” you mumbled as you threw it in your duffle bag. You zipped the bag shut and paused, looking at it sadly as you stood beside the dresser it sat on. “I nearly killed him, I tasted his fucking blood, Kil. I can still taste it.” You shook your head with a frown and opened your duffle again, retrieving your toothbrush and toothpaste and making a beeline for the bathroom. You left the door open, so as not to be rude to Killer.

“Its not on you, this is his fuck up,” Killer told you. You turned back to him as you brushed your teeth and softened, seeing his mask and suddenly realising what he'd done for you.

“Your mask…” you said softly, lowering your brush.

“You said it blocks shit, I thought it might help,” he said nonchalantly, scratching the back of his neck.

“It was good thinking,” you told him, spitting your mouth full of toothpaste and rinsing your mouth and brush. You returned the brush and paste to your duffle, staring at the bag with a small blush, “It smells like you in there. It reminded me of the blanket you put over me during the storm. You have a calming scent”

His breath stuttered as you stood properly and looked directly at him, and there was a pregnant silence as you stared at each other. Your eyes couldn't meet because of the masks, but he felt like you were looking right into his soul. His heart skipped as you closed the distance between you and gently took one of his hands in your own.

“Thank you Kil,” you said softly, finally breaking the silence. Your voice was sweet and sincere, “that must have been hard for you to do, I won't forget what you did for me”

“It's nothing,” he mumbled, glad for the mask that was hiding his bright red cheeks, “I did it to protect Kid”

“Yeah, I know,” you sighed, staring forlorn at his hand as you ran your thumb over the scarred back of it, “but thank you anyway”

“Right,” he cleared his throat, pulling his hand away, “I need to finish packing…”

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, taking a few awkward steps back, “I'll uh.. I'll see you on the ship?”

“Yeah, sure,” he mumbled and quickly fled back to his own room.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

[obislittleone]

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 2

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, but the good kind. The Hunger Games are a bitch. Finnick should be a warning tbh... mild bullying but nothing wild.

Chapter Summary: After saying goodbye to your family, you and your tribute counterpart will board the train, meeting two mentors who may help you survive the bloodbath of the arena. Of course, one of them is Finnick Odair, so maybe the bloodbath will start before you even reach the capitol.

Word Count: 3.5k

It's only gonna get worse from here, guys... (and by that I mean it gets so much better as far as drama goes)

Lukas looked to you with concern, but couldn’t see your reaction as your features were hidden from him by your downward stare. Your hands were trembling, that was enough of an indication.  “Wait a minute,” Finnick furrowed his brows and leaned forward, examining the face of the boy, which he could see quite clearly. Worry resided there, but not for himself. You felt his eyes shift to you as soon as it happened, and they practically burned holes into the top of your head until you straightened your neck and met his eyeline. “You can’t be serious…”

He was the last winner from district four. A fourteen year old boy reaped during a year without career volunteers. A determined young man, hardened by the sting of the Capitol’s arena. Whispers through four were that it would be the same this year. No career tributes, only what has been reaped. 

Finnick does not think badly of this, quite the opposite, actually. Careers, though mostly prepared for what the games will hold, are almost always the most arrogant tributes. They think the training they have received is enough to prepare them for what it's like to be hunted, and to hunt down and kill others just like them. No amount of sparring rounds, or hours of weapons training can prepare you for that. Not mentally, at least.

He’s made up his mind about this year. He’s tired of watching kids go into that arena and not come out of it. He’s tired of seeing new faces every year, trying to help them only to realize they were never going to win in the first place. He knows it sounds twisted, and he knows what it will cost, but he’s promised himself a victor this year. Whoever is pulled from those bowls today, he knows that he won’t rest until one of them has a house across from his and Mags. He knows that no matter the age, gender, or lack of skills, one of them is going to win. 

He is so determined not to lose two more tributes. He’s so focused on making it his reality, he doesn’t even think about what he might have to do. He just knows that he’s willing to do it, when the time comes. 

Standing in the victor’s circle at the reaping is far better than standing amongst the gender separated crowds, but it still isn’t comforting. His hands are sweaty as he fiddles with them behind his back, waiting on the Capitol escort, Arbin, to finish his practiced lines. 

The first boy is a volunteer. Non career, but built just the same as one. Already, Finnick breathes a sigh of relief when he realizes the initial first pick would not have to go. This boy looked eighteen, seventeen at least, and was strong and handsome. A perfect tribute in all aspects. 

As Arbin made another unhumorous joke, teetering on his toes towards the girl’s bowl, Finnick somehow felt guilty. He’d already assumed the boy would be his victor, and he hadn’t even given the unpicked girl a chance. He hoped, now, that perhaps it was someone less than capable. The thought in and of itself was awful, but he didn’t want to be the one feeling guilty when one tribute left the arena and the other stayed as a permanent addition.

“Mercedes Blythe.”

An unknown name, like most of the others. The face that matched it was sullen… but damn, she was as good a tribute in any comparison to her counterpart. Eighteen, tall, strong looking, and beautiful. The sadness in her eyes reflected that of those she knew, but he couldn’t think about that. All he could think about was that his promise to himself would come at a great cost, whichever way it went. 

-

Arbin was kind, as you’d learned immediately after leaving the stage. He seemed to understand the weight of this event, despite seeming so joyful about it only minutes ago. He’d explained that you were on your way to the district’s processing center, where you would meet with your families one more time before getting on a train to the Capitol. You hadn’t spoken since the reaping. You knew that anything that came out of your mouth would only be unpleasant to hear anyway, and so far, Lukas had done a good enough job of asking all the questions you had on your mind. 

The room you met your family in was small, but it felt too large as soon as you stepped into it. The high ceiling must have played tricks on you. 

Your mother was hysterical, as you felt she must have been since the calling of your name. 

“M-mama, I’m sor-ry,” you sputtered out, reaching for her as she did. Once she had you in her arms she clung as tightly as she possibly could. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. It’s not your fault,” she shook her head, backing away only to look at your face. She had hoped this day would never come, but here you stood, tears on your cheeks and only a minute between now and a long train ride. She didn’t want to even think about what would happen to you once you left her sight. She just wanted to hold you for as long as she could. 

You saw your father standing behind her, holding the baby tightly as if trying to console himself apart from being able to hug you as well. He wouldn’t dare tell his wife to let go, not when he knows she may never see you again, but he wants to give you one last thing that he’s sorry he didn’t give you sooner. 

His gratitude. 

For putting your name in the bowl to eat, instead of taking the rations he needed in order to heal when he’d been so sick. That was the reason you were in this mess. He got sick, and his bones became so frail he broke his arm in a rigging accident… and you paid the price of his healing. If anyone should apologize it's him, but he knows you’ll just struggle to tell him not to. Still, as you leave the arms of your mother and look to him, he has to try. 

“I’m so sorry, little bear,” he tried not to show how much the emotion built up within him, but it boiled over without him even realizing it had. You leaned into him, an arm around your baby brother who may never remember you even existed. In three weeks there would be a victor, and you were almost certain it would not be you.

“I-it’s alright, papa. Y-you take c-care of mama for m-me, okay?” you asked, the nod of his head the best response he could muster and he leaned into you the best he could while holding the baby. He kissed the top of your head, inhaling the scent and trying to commit it to memory, that his daughter’s hair had smelled like fresh spring water from the center of the district. 

“I know I haven’t said it much, but you gotta know we’ve always been so proud of you. And it doesn’t matter what you do in that arena, if you have to do some bad things in order to come home, we will still be proud of you.”

You couldn’t have cried any harder after that, and feeling the arms of your mother once again coming around you, locking you together with your father and brother, you felt the last bit of peace you thought you would ever know. 

The peacekeepers were the ones to break apart the family moment, ushering you away to meet Lukas in the hall. 

-

Arbin pushed you both onto the train hurriedly, knowing that ‘wanting to see the shoreline from here, one last time,’ was only a way that Lukas could stall leaving the district. No one ever leaves their districts, so being made to not only leave, but basically being forced to go and die, made you both nervous to step aboard the transport that would take you there.

“Allow me to introduce your mentors,” Arbin stood by them, kind smiles on both their faces when they first saw you up close. “Mags Flanagan, 11th victor… and Finnick Odair, 65th victor.”

Mags didn’t say anything, but gave a warm handshake to you both, her opposite hand coming overtop of yours when she did each time. Finnick nodded to you both, a bit colder of a greeting, but probably to keep a necessary distance. His games were six years ago, they’re probably still fresh, and he doesn’t like getting close to the tributes. You can understand that. 

“I’m Lukas, this is Merce-” 

“We know. We were at the reaping,” Finnick stopped him short of his sentence, and you couldn’t help but be a bit annoyed at it. Surely, he was not so cold that he would forgo a simple introduction?

“Alright.” Lukas dropped his smile, which he’d forced onto his face originally, and replaced it with a look of irritation. He had his opinion on all of this, obviously, and wanted to know more than just these mentor’s names. “So, what now?”

Arbin seemed shocked at the seemingly polite boy’s lack of decorum for proper conversation. 

“Do we just sit here and wait until they shove us in that arena? Or are you meant to help us?” 

He wasn’t playing around, and his tone along with his words made Finnick smile. 

“Excellent question. See, I’m not much one for pleasantries, but this I can work with,” he turned around when he finished talking, waving his hand for you both to follow him. 

The car on the train you’d been led to was glorious. All the food you could possibly eat, the softest seats you’d ever imagined could be on a transport, and oh, the view was something to take in. The crested and sun topped mountains were unlike anything you’d ever seen before. You weren’t even out of district four, technically, but you’d never been away from the water a day in your life… ironic as it sounds. 

“First things first. Tell me something about yourselves that you think is captivating.”

Captivating? What did that have anything to do with fighting to the death in the hunger games? You hadn’t barely watched them before, too afraid of what it might have meant if you were reaped, but you were certain it wasn’t that kind of show. 

“I can swim a mile in twenty minutes,” Lukas answered first, something easy off the top of his head. 

“That’s not gonna work. You’re from four, half the boys your age or under can do the same. It has to be something personal, intimate. Something that gives insight to you as a tribute.”

“I c-collect rare cockle sh-shells,” you piped up. Finnick turned to you with raised brows, unexpecting the answer you gave, but not because of the words.

He had to blink a few times, and shake his head to get out of his thoughts in order to respond. 

“Yeah, that’s uh-” he cleared his throat, finally able to get it out. “That’s good.”

There’s the catch. Two perfect tributes, except one has a severe stutter.

The conversation continued, but after his reaction, you spoke only when you thought it was absolutely necessary. 

It was sad, the way he looked at you, nearly shocked at first before his eyes fell with a feeling unknown, something akin to pity, but worse. Something that not only felt sorry for you, but wanted to not have to deal with it. Pity, mixed with a kind of annoyance, that was not only evident but outstanding. 

Later in the evening, you were both shown to your rooms, exact copies of one another, separated by a train car in between, where the victor's rooms were. 

The victors, Mags and Finnick, but only one of them seemed really keen on giving his input. The other was just too kind and too gentle, willing herself more to give over her sympathies and compassion. You understood her. She wasn’t violent by nature, and you felt that even though his exterior was cocky and arrogant, Finnick had more beneath his rough and tumble outer layers as well. 

Mags spoke through sign language, and though you weren’t fluent, you could well figure out what she was saying to you. You were not quick to reply each time, but you much preferred the slow movements of your hands to a stuttering word. 

She’d been the one to lead you into the car one over, opening your door for you and allowing you to settle in. It had been a hard day, and she knew that there was nothing worse than having to be thrust into these circumstances. Even in her old age, she remembers it well, remembers her arena and the people who died beside her. She remembers their faces, frozen faces stuck with horror that would forever remain in their lifeless eyes. She remembers her victory tour, and how big of a deal it was. She was the first to experience a new era of the hunger games, something more vile and twisted than before. It was not just a symbol anymore, it was a show, complete pageantry being put on before the eyes of the Capitol, where the children taken must pretend like they are happy about their fate. Where they must smile and wave and endorse the ways of the Capitol before being pushed into an arena to die. 

She sees herself in you. Strong, brave hearted, but still afraid to die. She’s seen herself in many female tributes over the years, having not raised a victor in any thus far. It saddens her to think you will be just another one of the many, with an end just the same. Cold and dead eyes looking to the sky of the arena, stuck to the ground by another tribute you’ll encounter. She hates to think of it, but having lost every one of them, it plagues her. 

You thanked her for helping you, not just for leading you to your room, but for looking out for you. You knew there was only so much she would be able to do, but you appreciated the way she willingly did it, even when Finnick insisted on taking the lead with the preparations this year.

She nodded with a smile before leaving you to rest. The day ahead would be much more intimidating, and she knew how vital it was to be prepared for the culture shock of entering the Capitol.

-

Abrin droned on, listing the great commodities that you were going to have accessible. Coming from a wealthier district, it wasn’t terribly different, but being in the lower class of four, you would take the time to appreciate some things. The promise of constantly hot running water sounds phenomenal. 

All the while he’d been speaking, you opted to simply listen and not join in under any circumstances. It was now your greatest mission to avoid speaking in front of Finnick Odair at any cost. It just so happened that sitting in the main car of the train, there was a dessert cart set up before you, so you didn’t really need to bite your tongue all that much.

“Will we have access to training facilities that mimic the arena?” Lukas’ voice broke the long ramble of the excited Capitol member, and leaned forward in wait for the answer. He felt that it was far more important to have something practical in his favor. What good were any of the other commodities if you didn’t live long enough to use them?

“Not quite anything that mimics the arena. The games are all about the entertainment factor, that’s why everything is kept a secret until they call showtime,” Finnick interjected, a less than favorable look on his face when he mentions a few specific words. “Training facilities are provided but won’t give you any hints, trust me. They will open it to the tributes a day before evaluation, so you’ll have to be wise with the time spent.”

“If we’re unsure of what the arena contains, how will we know what to focus on?” 

You were so grateful for Lukas at this moment. He voiced all of the things you knew you would have a hard time trying to say, and did it in half the time. A swift and simple conversation, and by observing it, you would learn everything you needed to know, 

“Most of the careers will stick with what they’re best at. They test their limits and see how far their strengths can go… it always impresses the game-makers, and often is the deciding factor in what weapons will be available in the cornucopia.”

There was something strange about the way he phrased it. He said it was what most careers did, but you weren’t technically a career, and neither was Lukas, though he volunteered like one.

“W-what do you s-suggest?” You felt embarrassed at the way he looked at you when you asked the question. He was so full of pity. Though you often felt bad for yourself and the way you sounded to others, you didn’t like being looked at like an injured animal. You were just trying to ask a question.

Still he looked intrigued. You didn’t seem very keen on surviving, and yet here you were, inquiring about his personal advice.

“I suggest working on your weaknesses. The arena is completely unpredictable, but it becomes easier when you’ve covered your bases,” he paused, tilting his head around. “Still spend time on testing your strengths. Like I said, this is a show, and people aren’t watching to see you learn a new skill.”

You looked to Lukas, and he almost read your mind. You didn’t want to ask about it, but knew he could bring it up easier, without the hassle of forming the wrong words and them sounded uncertain altogether. 

“There’s always sources of water in the arena... Are there any pools to practice in?” 

Finnick laughed and nodded, looking at Lukas with a face of confusion. 

“There are some… but I hardly think either of you would need to spend time there.”

You lowered your head, continuing to pick at the small foods on the little rolling cart before you. You had been pretty silent this whole time, surely he wouldn’t read it as strange right now. 

Lukas looked to you with concern, but couldn’t see your reaction as your features were hidden from him by your downward stare. Your hands were trembling, that was enough of an indication. 

“Wait a minute,” Finnick furrowed his brows and leaned forward, examining the face of the boy, which he could see quite clearly. Worry resided there, but not for himself. You felt his eyes shift to you as soon as it happened, and they practically burned holes into the top of your head until you straightened your neck and met his eyeline. “You can’t be serious…”

He shook his head laughing, hoping - no, praying - that this was a joke. That you both were messing with him to see how he would react. Perhaps it was even a strange attempt at trying to bond with a mentor through humor, but the longer he stared at you, eyes flicking from yours to Lukas every few seconds, it made clear the dilemma he had in front of him. 

“I can’t believe it…” he scoffed, his earlier laughter now turning into irritation and disgust. He’d promised himself a victor this year, but here stood an incapable pair. 

He sat back into his seat and raked a hand over his face, the heat of the moment making him feel completely and utterly helpless. What could he even do about it?

“I’m a strong swimmer, I can help her if it comes down to it-”

“And what if you’re dead? The second that countdown reaches zero, and you start running, there’s a good chance someone’s gonna beat you to the weapon of their choice. If you die, and she’s depending on you, what then?” 

“I c-can learn,” you tried to interject, but it only made his anger worse. 

“No, sweetheart, you can’t. The only hope you’ll have is in convincing the other tributes you’re as good in the water as anyone else in four.” 

His sarcasm wasn’t helping anything, but this was purely unheard of. 

“She’s stronger than she looks, I can teach her the basics,” Lukas again intervenes, trying his best to defend your honor, which if you’re being honest, there isn’t much to defend anymore. You’re a fraud. They called the women of four mermaids, and you couldn’t even step past the shoreline’s sand.

“I don’t need you telling me what can and can’t be done. She’s a tribute from four who can’t swim… it’s bad enough I have to sell a stutter to the Capitol without adding to my plate,” he spoke too hastily and irrationally, his stress overtaking what he would normally even think to say. 

Lukas looked to him in shock, then immediately to you. There were tears welling in your eyes. How could someone who has gone through the games sit here and say things like that? He knows firsthand that nobody even wants to be here, but to make matters worse, he’s pulling the cards from everyone who has ever made you feel inferior from the time you could talk. 

You stood up in a rush, thighs accidentally hitting the edge of the food cart, before walking away quickly towards the room quarters of the train. 

-

Tags (open)

[ronearoundblindly]

Pirate & Pin Cushion (3)

Jake Jensen x gn! ops!Reader

Painful...But In A Good Way (see previous or JJ Masterlist)

The last thing you remember is the awkward kiss Jake planted on you during a screaming match. Now, awake and healed, your friend and teammate is acting more awkward than usual around you.

Warnings for foul language, *super skimmed over action,* canon-level betrayal (Roque), completely vague mentions of injuries, suspicions, doubts, misunderstandings,--GO FIGURE--an argument, and I just wanted this done honestly. Not that I don't love them, but I need a win in the COMPLETED department. WC ~1.5k

You’re a Loser through and through now.

Months have gone by since you were stabbed and unceremoniously, sorta-kinda-maybe-not kissed by Jake Jensen. You woke up six days later with Pooch by your side, disappointed it wasn’t your Banter Bro.

The last thing you remember is turning away from Jake to hide your face. After that, nothing. You suppose he feels awkward about it. Maybe he regrets it, even if the ‘kiss’ was just part of a gag to him.

The most frustrating part is everything is exactly the same. Jake keeps you at arm’s length, a holding pattern to get no closer as teammates but no farther as friends.

Is this…are you in the friend zone???

It blows.

You’d still prefer this over being a pariah, so on you quip from interaction to interaction.

For all Jake’s hype about loving Halloween, he shuts down when you ask him what costume you should choose. Then he goes home to his sister and niece for the holiday.

...Okay…

You console yourself knowing this is for the best. You’d promised yourself no attachments, and nature clearly pushes for you to keep that promise.

You’ve almost—almost—resigned yourself to actual pin-cushion-status, jabbed repeatedly by his indifference. You are PC: perpetually crushing on Jake Jensen. It sucks.

You can be professional though. You can keep up with the jokes and take the hits to your heart and body that come with the job.

Until you can’t.

Los Angeles. The port. The shitshow.

While scrambling to get out of the line of fire in a showdown gone wrong, Jake cuts his leg vaulting over a concrete barrier, and you get him to a nook between shipping crates.

You squat down to change the mag on your MP7 and suddenly hear Roque’s voice behind you. He’s not on the comms.

“Should’ve told ‘em, Jensen."

The look on Jake’s face is shocked and bitter.

Roque clicks his tongue. "At least then they’d know…”

Before you can so much as turn to look, Jake’s raised his own weapon, firing right over your shoulder and within inches of your ear.

The pain is sharp and hot, sending you stumbling into the warped metal wall of the nearest container.

Jake wraps a thick arm around your waist and yanks you away.

You catch sight of Roque dead on the asphalt.

It’s complete chaos, pure survival mode for the next twenty minutes, deaf and deftly tying a bandage around Jake’s leg in an open, empty crate while he’s on comms and frantically hand-signaling you the plan.

But you make it. Everyone but Roque makes it.

Eventually, when the ringing subsides in your non-ruptured ear, Clay lays outRoque betrayed the team. Aisha teaches you a way to cup your occipital and tap to reduce the tinnitis. Pooch leaves to see the birth of his first child.

You’re left to ponder if Jake is a traitor, too.

Did he kill Roque to keep his own cover? Was he supposed to recruit you into his and Roque’s plan? Is that what he ‘should have told you’ so Roque wouldn’t need to kill you?

The possibilities haunt you. Is this why he’s kept you distant for months? Was Jake worried you’d catch on?

You blame your stupid crush for stopping you from telling Cougar your concerns. You trust Jake—or you want to trust him, so badly—so you confront him alone.

Dinner. At your place. Away from the team so he can feel safe to admit it. Away from the team so you can pretend your forgiveness isn’t already secured. You’ll deal with the consequences once you know the truth.

Jake seems an odd mix of totally psyched and forcefully reserved when you invite him and a nervous wreck when he arrives at your door.

It’s just pizza. You were too distracted to do more.

He doesn’t pick up his slice because you don’t either, running your hands up and down your thighs compulsively, then quietly asking, “about what Roque said…”

Jake leans back in his chair, leg bouncing frantically, rubbing at his neck. “Yeah,” he replies, eyes on the floor.

“Was he…were you his partner in that? Were you suppose to take me out, too?

Jake’s head snaps up, his mouth askew and brow pinched. “WHAT?”

“Just tell me the truth. I swear, we can work it out with the rest—“

“Is this what—what the fuck—“ he shoves the chair back and steps away “—that’s the reason I’m here right now? I thought you were finally gonna say it!”

Jake rips his glasses off his face and harshly runs his fingers through his frosted tips.

“Say…what? What am I supposed to say? I’m not the one Roque had a damn secret with.”

He’s visibly upset but with bugged-out eyes like he has no idea what to do.

“Well, I’m not a fucking traitor,” he mumbles.

Jake replaces his glasses and takes his phone from the pocket of his low-slung jeans, hitting a few buttons and tossing it onto the table. It slides until it knocks your plate.

His own recorded laugh cuts off quickly. “Okay, PC, what were you saying about Halloween? One more time,” and then comes another slow voice, “I should have told you before I died.

“I love you.”

Your whole body freezes, brain turning the words over and over until it occurs to you…that is your voice.

“I didn’t say that.” Your knee-jerk reaction comes swiftly. “I don’t remember that.”

Jake snorts without humor. “Got that part.”

You’re too stunned to speak. You can’t even imagine when you would have…oh god.

Jake rushes to fill the silence as you die inside, again, maybe more realistically because what.

“Did you at least think I was a badass, like, ya know, a sexy traitor or whatever? Or…were you gonna wrestle me to the ground after I ate a whole pie?”

You keep sitting with your mouth agape.

“You didn’t poison the pizza, did you? Right? Say 'no.' That’s overkill, or just, kill—were gonna kill me?!”

“I’D KNOWN YOU FOR TWO WEEKS,” you explode, bolting out of your own chair.

“Yeah,” Jake squeaks, “I know.”

“Two weeks, and then you taped me saying ‘I love you?’”

“But, like—“ his usually deep timbre pitches super high “…did you?”

“Why would you just sit on that, Jake?!”

He shrugs. “You weren’t exactly sober.”

Too much, too many feelings, all at once. You try to get away, to make a break for the bathroom, but Jake grabs your wrist and swings your momentum to the wall.

Your back hits with a soft thud, pinned in place by Jake’s chest. He’s not breathing heavily, but you are, pushing you against him repeatedly.

That just makes it harder.

Yes, you said it (you guess), and yes, you meant it. Jake, however, hasn’t said word one about if he feels some sort of way for you. Your brain can’t intuit his romantic inclinations two minutes after accusing him of treachery.

He’s…there, not moving, not speaking, lips slightly parted while he stares at you.

You clear your throat.

“You’re…you’re touching me,” you say softly.

Jake doesn’t skip a beat, gently tightening his hold on your arms. “That’s what I do, PC. Finger keyboards.”

You gag as he quickly shakes his head.

“What the fuck?”

“Sounds sooooo bad," Jake moans. "I’m so sorry.” He let’s go of you, steps back, and slaps his hands in the air frantically. “Wait, okay? That was not the joke. I can do it.”

“You’re sick, man.”

Jake rubs at his temples, muttering something about keys, computers, and Halloween. “Hold on...so dumb. This is why I was trying to record it! It’s your joke. You were laying on the bed and--”

“I would never say you fin—“

“He was standing right there,” Jake bursts, scaring you to silence. “Roque. When you said that into the phone, I mean, he was standing at the door and he heard.”

Jensen sighs. Defeated and deflated, he rests his hands on his hips, inhaling sharply.

“So at the port when… He aimed a gun at you and I just—“ he makes a finger gun to point over your shoulder, adding a soft pow sound-effect “—Roque was saying I should have told you before he tried to kill you.”

“About the recording?”

“No.” Jake rocks on his heels.

“About the joke?” Your voice is so small.

His stupid, beautiful blue eyes lift to meet yours.

“No, pin cushion, not about the joke.”

There's a horridly long pause of nothingness.

"Fuck it."

Jake lunges forward with startling intensity, fingers lace behind your head to draw you to him.

You don’t turn away this time.

His lips are soft yet determined, slowly pulsing to transform one kiss into dozens, and he adjusts everything—his height, his stance, his proximity to get even more of you in a single embrace.

“I love you,” Jake whispers, shifting to tilt you left while he goes right. “I should have told you ‘I love you,’ too.”

You promised yourself no attachments, but who are you kidding? You're such a loser, and you found your match.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

😵‍💫

[lizard-queen-izzy]

OK! WE'RE DOING THIS!

Everyone shut up and sit down. I'm talking about TMA. I am listening through for the first time, I'm through S1 and halfway through S2, and I already have many Thoughts. Today, we will be focusing on my evil ship thoughts, because I missed my chance when this was coming out so now I will subject you all.

I know Jon and Martin get together at some point, and yknow, that's all fine and good.

BUT I WANNA TALK ABOUT JON AND TIM, OK?

There is so much potential for something there, and they would be so incredibly messy after the S1 finale.

[I've lightly scrolled through the jontim tag, and I truly don't think there's enough of you talking about how tragic they are. Platonic or romantic, they're so so sad.]

They both worked in the research department before Jon was made Head Archivist, and even though they definitely weren't close, they were definitely friendly. My Firm Belief is that Jon was the only one who took Tim seriously despite his more lax attitude, he saw his strong work ethic and his dedication and treated him accordingly. And Tim was the only one who listened to Jon, the only one who thought he had anything to add and took his suggestions.

I believe they were hired around the same time, and once they met there was a silent understanding that they were there for eachother. It was nice to just have someone in their corner in this new environment.

When Jon got promoted to Head Archivist, he was adamant about Tim being on his team, because he knew Tim would help get the results needed. [I have a whole, how everyone got assigned to the team timeline thought out but that's not why we're here]

Tim is the only member of his team who Jon doesn't think would have written Antonio Blake's statement as a joke to scare him. Which means he trusts him the most out of all of them. Which wouldn't be as important if he showed distaste for them equally, but he regards both Tim and Sasha highly, and only really seems to have an issue with Martin at this point. So why would he trust Tim to not have written it but not Sasha? Unless he's known him the longest and has reason to put that faith in him.

AND THEIR CONVERSATION AT THE BEGINNING OF MAG 33?? You're gonna listen to that, the first time we as the audience meet Tim, and tell me you don't hear how much these two care for eachother? Even when Jon starts getting upset/loud, he calms quickly for Tim, and doesn't let himself fully yell at him. He also leaves it up to Tim to fix the mistakes, an example of him trusting Tim's judgement and work. And Tim is so calm with him! The man keeps getting worked up and starting to get loud, but Tim stays calm and let's him self correct and say what he needs to before proceeding himself. He knows Jon is stressed and has a lot on his plate. He knows these mistakes needed to be discussed with him and corrected somehow, but he's still not going to force Jon to re-record the statements if he really doesn't want to, he's willing to find another solution. And then he leaves to go work on it so Jon can get back to recording the statement.

And Tim telling Jon he doesn't understand the filing system and Jon explaining it calmly to him, admitting he doesn't really get it either but that's how it is.

You also have to see my vision for how the S1 finale effects them. A traumatic experience where they were both scarred mentally and physically in the same ways. Something that should have brought them even closer, maybe finally made them feel comfortable being proper friends outside of work. But they both react to it SO differently. And that is the beginning of their downfall. That is the beginning of the end.

Because Jon spirals. He stops trusting everyone. He pushes them all away and starts crossing boundaries. HE SPIES ON TIMS HOUSE. And he can't even calm down long enough to see why this bothers his coworkers. Why this hurts Tim.

The beginning of S2 from Tim's perspective is awful. Your first friend in this workplace is overworking himself, throwing himself back into work the second he's cleared physically well enough to go back. But he clearly hasn't moved past it, and you can't blame him for that. Everyone copes differently, but then he turns on you. He stops trusting you, starts pushing you away, starts spying on you. Can you imagine how much that hurts? To have the first person in this terrifying new job who ever put their trust in you, who ever believed in you, to turn on you just when you need them the most.

THEY ARE SO FUCKING MESSY. GOD.

Anyway. I very well may be back with more JonTim thoughts as I continue to listen. But this is what I have for you today.

[mariademetal]

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ competition itadori yuuji / fem!reader ©mariademetal 2024

cw ... yuuji calls reader babe, everyone is a little stupid, idk what else, lmk if i should add anything note ... this was actually sooooo much fun to write, i luv yuuji so much and this idea came to me like a vision from jesus himself, i hope u all enjoy too (❁´◡`❁) word count ... 1.1k

You've always liked Jennifer Lawrence.

You liked the Hunger Games growing up, but never bothered to read the books. When you turned a little older, you liked Silver Linings too. Maybe you didn't like her as much as some of your peers, maybe you never dressed up as Katniss for Halloween, but you certainly never hated her. She's pretty, she's a good actress, and although you wouldn't necessarily call yourself her fan, you can see why, hypothetically, someone might. You've always liked Jennifer Lawrence.

You've always liked Yuuji, too. He's always been a good friend to you, but now that your relationship with him is blossoming into something bigger, more important than friendship, you can't quite jump over the hurdle that is Jennifer Lawrence. Despite the fact that you have, as a matter of fact, always liked her, you feel nothing but mild discomfort and irritation as you make unrequited eye contact with the poster of her hung on Yuuji's wall.

What else are you meant to look at?

At first, it was easy enough to ignore her. Whenever you came to Yuuji's room you'd make a point to sit on his bed, back against the wall, safe from any unwanted eye contact with Jennifer's boobs. But the talking stage is weird like that— if Yuuji's already sitting on his bed, you certainly can't, and then you're forced back into a standstill, an ugly competition with a poster that cannot fight back.

So, the two of you start hanging out in your dorm. You would be lying if you said you hadn't considered getting some sweat mag poster of some ludicrously built American actor yourself, just to see Yuuji's reaction. You, thankfully, came to your senses and acknowledged that Yuuji would more likely ask to take it to hang on his own wall than ask you to take it down for the sake of his ego before you spent any money on your silly idea.

Unfortunately, when Nobara leaves her window open after a particularly humid day and finds that she's invited a mildew infestation into her dorm, she asks to shack up with you until her new room is set up, and thus you and Yuuji are forced back to his room.

Still, it was easy enough to ignore Jennifer. She was an unwelcome, near-overbearing presence in your relationship with Yuuji, but it wasn't like he mentioned her in your conversations, nor did he ever compare the two of you— it was just that stupid poster hanging above his bed and the knowledge that he has called her his type, whatever that really means. So, it was survivable.

And there are so many other things you adore about Yuuji, too— like how he gives you his jacket when he feels even a draft, or how he takes pictures of things he knows you'll think are cute or pretty, or how he lets you prop your legs over his thighs whenever you watch movies together. You like what you have with him— you don't like that fucking Jennifer Lawrence poster. Unfortunately for you, they seem like a package deal.

It was easy enough to ignore Jennifer— emphasis on was. You could ignore Jennifer as long as he never mentioned her to you. For a long time, he didn't— no one's ever called Yuuji a genius, but he's always had the good sense to avoid the topic of a certain blonde actress with you. He had a spotless track record, apart from the existence of the poster itself— he was doing so well that you started to think you really could live with Jennifer— then, he had the bright idea of asking you on a date to see her new movie.

The two of you were walking together when he asked— the sun was setting, he'd just bought you a drink from the vending machine, your shoulders were touching— then, he just had to ask that wretched question. You don't think you've recoiled from another person's touch so fast before in your life. You also don't think you'll ever forget the look on his face after you replied to his question with, "Are you fucking with me?"

He asked if that meant the answer was no. (Again, no one ever called Yuuji a genius.)

So, after that display, why are you here, in his room, making the same awkward eye contact with Jennifer Lawrence's cold, dead, photographed eyes that you've been avoiding so fervently these past couple of months? Because you're making your final stand against Jennifer. She's got to go if Yuuji wants your relationship to go anywhere. You refuse to look at her bikini any longer than you've already been forced to.

That said, you can't exactly make your final stand against Jennifer until Yuuji is back from... wherever he is, so you are, unfortunately, stuck looking at Jennifer Lawrence's bikini for even longer than you've already been forced to.

It's only when Yuuji does come back that you realize how weird of a position he's caught you in— just standing in the middle of his room, bag discarded on the floor next to you, staring at his damn poster like you're admiring a piece of art in a gallery.

He looks excited, at first, to see you, then excitement turns into confusion, probably at the fact that you're just... standing there, then concern. "What're you doin', babe?"

"We need to talk," is the first thing that comes out of your mouth, deathly serious.

Yuuji gulps. Literally gulps. "About what?"

"Jennifer."

You can see the relief painting his face when he realizes that you are not, as a matter of fact, breaking up with him. "What about Jennifer?"

"She needs to leave," You emphasize the last word in a way that makes your request sound less like a request and more like a plead. "I feel like the other woman."

"Okay, don't be dramatic—"

"Don't call me dramatic!"

"I'm sorry!"

Yuuji purses his lips and brings his hand to the back of his head, as if he's weighing to pros and cons to standing his ground and keeping the poster. Just when you think you've finally won, that the cons outweigh the pros, he says, "Aren't relationships about compromise?"

"Yuuji, I swear—"

"See the movie with me, and I'll take the poster down."

"Deal."

Maybe you should've thought about it longer. Maybe you should've weighed the pros and cons of this date, too— then, you see Yuuji sulking, watching from the corner of his room as you gleefully climb onto his bed to peel off the tape that attaches the poster to his wall, and it makes it all worth it.

You kiss him on the way out, and the goofy smile on his face tells you he feels the same way.

It'd better be a good movie.

[piratefalls]

once again the number of fics on these lists has escaped containment.

list one. list two. list three. list four. list five. list six.

No Nut November by TuppingLiberty

The Super Six make a bet to see who can 'win' No Nut November. Alex is determined to win, but discovers something about his roommate Henry in the process. Aka, a simple college roommate au pwp grew some plot.

Feel your hands in my hair and you whisper my name by kiwiana

And, like, Alex is a smooth guy, okay? He’s charming and witty and has a killer smile. Generally speaking, he flirts well and it almost always works out for him. Even when it doesn’t, he usually ends up making a new friend. There’s all sorts of things he could say in response. ‘You could help me by letting me buy you a drink’, that’s a classic. Sometimes a well-placed cheesy pickup line about being distracted by someone’s beauty can break the ice. ‘No, but you can feel free to help yourself’ is a good one if the vibe is more hookup than date. These are all options he has. What actually comes out of his mouth is “Can I suck your dick?”

Henry's an Asshole (I Want to Kiss Him) by anarchyat4am

They hoist themselves up onto the counters, Alex on the island and Henry opposite him, tucked into the corner with his knees pulled to his chest. Henry can feel Alex watching him, but he’s not sure he wants to face whatever’s playing out in Alex’s expression. He gets through half of his ice cream before giving in and meeting Alex’s eyes, and he cannot for the life of him read what he sees in them. “Can I tell you a secret?” Alex says. Henry hums and lifts an eyebrow. “Is it a good one?” “Maybe?” Alex says. He pokes at his ice cream and eats another spoonful, looking carefully at Henry. “I was gonna kiss you at midnight.” * At the NYE Gala, Henry starts feeling the hazy edges of anxiety and an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. It takes him longer than it should to take notice of the feeling, and even longer to realise that the cause is likely the binder he’s been wearing all day. He escapes the party, Alex gets him upstairs to his room to change, and the rest of the night goes far differently than Henry could have expected.

Uncut not Uncultured by inexplicablymine

“Excuse me? Have I dealt with Uncircumcised Dick? Are you at a hookup or something right now and a little lost?” “Yes, have you dealt with uncircumcised dick, no I’m not at a hookup, I am having an existential crisis and I need support okay Liam!” Alex’s voice pitches up at the end showing that he really is worried about something to do with foreskin. __________________ One Trader Joe’s Pride themed phallic treat, one existential crisis with your ex and his current lover, one hot and steamy night to work it all out.

The Key to Home by MoonCheeseRavioli

Henry isn't like that at all. He's not cold and robotic, he's just nervous. He's just a boy. Maybe they can just be boys tonight. No fucking titles or parts to play. Just people in a room in a house, doing something for themselves for once.

You'll Be Glowing, Chasing Shadows Away by Mags (sparklepocalypse)

In the weeks leading up to Alex’s eighteenth birthday, he spends hours meticulously crafting a list of things that adults are legally permitted to do, and minors are not. It takes nearly twice as long to decide which items to sidebar, so he can narrow the list down to a manageable number. Finally, he’s left with four: 1. register to vote; 2. buy a lottery ticket; 3. get a tattoo; 4. go to the adult novelty shop. (Or, five times Alex tries something he's seen on the internet, and one time he involves Henry.)

The Better Part by dorian_burberrycanary

Henry has no reason to be in New York, no acceptable public excuse, just a three-day gap in his schedule and a boyfriend he hasn’t seen in six weeks. Six weeks and two days, his mind supplies. For a moment he considers blaming that knowledge on how the American election is an easy date to remember. Instead, he texts Alex: We’re apart for weeks but my body misses you in days, in minutes.

warm from the inside out by cricketnationrise

“Can I pull you away from what I’m sure is fascinating research for a bit of a break?” “Mmm, depends on what kind of break,” Alex teases. “Tax law is pretty captivating.” “I was thinking,” Henry begins slowly, smudging kisses from Alex’s shoulder and up his neck, “that the break could go something like this.”

(lord, save me) my drug is my baby by coffeecatsme

Henry isn’t home when Alex returns from his weeklong trip to his father’s lakehouse in Texas. There is, however, a bat hanging from their fan, wings curled around its little body, a drop of drool clinging to his lips. Sleeping. “Huh,” Alex says, tilting his head. “I didn’t know vampires could actually turn into bats.” Or, 5 times Alex learns something new about Henry and 1 time Henry learns something new about Alex.

Celebration by Anonymous

It’s foolish, to do this now instead of later when they have time, but Henry wants it too much to resist. He always wants, always. Henry and Alex celebrate the election victory.

So No One Told You Life Was Gonna Be This Way by DracoWillHearAboutThis

Alex froze in his tracks, the abrupt movement causing him to drop his freshly bought cup of coffee right onto his new white sneakers. At the sound, Pez and Bea both turned to stare at him, eyes wide and slightly panicked. “Please tell me you didn’t hear that,” Pez whispered, with a note of desperation in his voice. “What do you mean, Henry is in love with me?!” Alex asked, his own voice high-pitched. “Well,” Nora said, grinning as she leaned back in her own seat. “This should be interesting.”

A Long Way From the Playground by allmylovesatonce

Henry and Alex were best friends growing up until they went to separate colleges and they grew apart. When they see each other again as adults, against the odds, both living in the same city again, will it be a joyful reunion or will the pain of the years apart get in the way? How do you become friends again when there is so much of the past in the way?

and I see forever in your eyes by viciouslyqueer

“What went wrong, love?” Henry asks quietly, anxiety curling around him and weighing on his stomach at the thought of having hurt Alex in any way. To his surprise, Alex lets out a little laugh. “Nothing, actually.” Henry frowns. “But… you safeworded. Something was obviously wrong.” Alex stays silent for a few moments. He seems to hesitate before speaking. “I just… didn’t want you to open that drawer.” — A brief misunderstanding and a ruined surprise turn out better than expected.

Toe the Line by OrchidScript

Henry plays piano while Alex studies. Alex gets caught live-streaming. Henry has a response handy.

Tickling the Ivories by bleedingballroomfloor

"What is it, baby?" Alex asks with a lick of his lips, one hand squeezing Henry's thigh and the other cupping his face. Henry growls. "You know what it is, you wanker," he whispers. They're so close that their lips brush with each word they speak. "Now are you going to continue to tease me like the arse you are, or are you going to drag me to the bedroom and actually fuck me?" "The bedroom?" Alex chuckles, sliding up his hand to thread his fingers through Henry's hair. He moves his mouth to Henry's ear and says, "Remember when you wouldn't let me fuck you on that piano back in Kensington? Well, this one isn't an old antique, babe."

Teach Me, Teach Me, Teach Me (How to Love) by politics_and_prose

“The beauty of love is that you can fall into it with the most unexpected person at the most unexpected time.” - Ritu Ghatourey Henry expects the coming school year to be much the same as the previous ones. He couldn't be more wrong.

tiny pretty things by shinebackbaby

Having completely gotten lost in his thoughts, he must've been staring, because Nora's saying, "Earth to Henry. What are you staring at, babe? Would you like to try?" From the tone of her voice it's obvious she's mostly joking, but Henry, not knowing what's gotten into him, actually considers. He remembers wondering how it all feels. Sure, he's had concealer put on his dark circles about a million times, and blush on his cheeks to give his face just the slightest warmth instead of the pale and hollowed-out look he privately sported for many years after his father's passing. But it just never felt the same as the things they did to Bea, the things June and Nora are doing to themselves right now. He thinks. Wonders. Considers. And he nods. He nods his head and says, in a bit of a small voice, "Er. Yeah, actually. I'd like that, I think." Or in which Henry tries out makeup with the help of Nora and June, and Alex is positively in love with it.

First Time for Everything by Celaestis

“I love that you love it.” He moves, gesturing for Henry to sit, and then straddles Henry's lap. His smile is as sharp as a knife when he kisses Henry. “I love everything about it – the way you look, the noises you make. How fucking amazing you feel around me, sweetheart.” He grinds slowly against Henry as he talks. "I wanna feel that too."

In the teeth of strong opposition by clottedcreamfudge

"You know what?" Henry says loudly, annoyed beyond belief that he has to hear for the millionth time how fucking cool Alex is with Henry's sexuality. "If you're such a good ally, why don't you suck me off? Since you're so insistent, why not get on your knees, Alex?" He regrets the words as soon as he says them, but it's not like he can shove them back into his mouth; he can't take them back. He closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see the shocked expression on Alex's face and takes a few deep breaths. "Sorry," he says tightly a moment later, eyes still closed. "That was uncalled for." "Do you want me to?"

would you wait for me? by smc_27

Henry Fox has made Alex nervous from the second they met. Now it’s different. Now Alex has to try and find a shirt to wear to a party where he’ll inevitably see Henry for the first time in a year. For the first time since Alex’s heart was broken and he’d made what felt like the brave and smart decision and left. Coming back might be a mistake.

Little Matters by pridepages

Henry Fox never expected to have children. As the black—or rainbow—sheep of the family, he accepted that long ago. But tragedy takes the lives of his brother and sister-in-law. Suddenly, Henry finds himself the guardian of his precocious little niece, turning his life upside down! Alex Claremont-Diaz is just fine, thank you very much. Freshly graduated from NYU Law, he’s ready to kick off his career. One day, he runs into a handsome man with his little girl. Sometimes we have to find each other before we can find ourselves.

jump in with your heart first by stutteringpeach

Pez sets it up. Some guy from work, he says. Gorgeous, too smart for his own good, a mouth that will get him into trouble. Henry raises an eyebrow. “Whatever you’re thinking,” Pez sings, wearing a smirk, “the answer is yes.”

Who Will I Become Tonight? by athousandrooms, ifyoustay

Attending their ten-year high school reunion isn't among Henry's ideal weekend plans, but Alex makes a really strong case for them to go together and have some spiteful fun. The problem is, Henry's in love with his straight best friend, and Alex thinks it's a brilliant idea to fake date. Best laid plans, they say.

Love, Pyramus by SprigsofViolets

Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor has always been different, and he spends his life finding himself in the pages of a book, connecting with queer people through literature. “To every person in search of somewhere to belong who happened to pick up this book, I hope you found a place in here, even if just for a few pages. You are loved. I wrote this for you. Keep fighting, keep making history, keep looking after one another.” —Casey McQuiston; Red, White, and Royal Blue

five times alex and henry tried something kinky (and one time they didn't) by cmere

Alex knew Henry loved his stupid fucking dirty talk, but if he were pressed to admit it, he loved it too, especially knowing that they were doing something they very much weren't supposed to—and that even though it wouldn't be the same scandal it once was, it would still be a fucking shock to someone's delicate sensibilities and most likely get them in a lot of trouble. What Alex loved most was that Henry got off on this shit as much as he did, too. OR five times Alex and Henry tried something kinky, and one time they didn't

Stars and Stripes by lucy_in_the_sky

Alex and Henry’s Fourth of July celebrations ft. an oh-so patriotic pair of star spangled boxers.

Hope and Glory by everwitch

Any moment now, that door will open again and another man will enter, another stranger will bare himself and quietly slot himself into the hole in the wooden panel. And Henry will swallow him down, willingly, greedily. He will use his mouth and his tongue and both of his hands, and he will lose himself in every little sound, every low groan and trembling whimper, every sharp intake of breath. He will bring the stranger to the brink and then over it, will smile faintly as feels the man pulsing in between his hands, will brush a chaste kiss against the tip before he lets go. Henry joins an exclusive, members only sex club and lives out an impossible fantasy. Along the way, he forms a connection with an enigmatic lover.

Gay Panic Button by Void_senpai

In which Alex is Alex and Henry's little gay heart cannot survive his bullshit. Or Chapters from the book and offscreen scenes from Henry's POV

AirBnB My Baby by indomitablelove

Alex grips his hand on the poker again. “Who the fuck are you?” he asks through gritted, chattering teeth. “And why do you have a key?” His mind is spinning a thousand miles an hour. What if this guy is a former guest who had his own key cut? What if he’s been waiting to pounce after seeing Alex arrive alone? What if he actually was working with Shaan?  "Oh, fuck," he says. The word sounds different in his mouth, like it’s something new, crisp and barely used, not like it does coming from Alex’s mouth – well-worn, with an alarming frequency. Something seems to dawn on the man. Alex really, really wishes that he’d bring him up to speed. “Right,” he says, “yes. My name is Henry, this is… well, my house and I think I’ve monumentally cocked up.” -- After June and Nora's flight gets grounded in the snow, Alex ends up at the holiday cottage they booked alone. He gets an unexpected visitor in the night. Then they get snowed in together.

my little dove by dearestalez

“Kinda cliché,” Alex says, looking up at the mural. “It’s Bea’s favourite piece,” Henry says. Alex looks at him, “that makes sense.” They travel through a plethora of shops. Henry picks up a hat, Alex holds a jumper to his chest and twirls until Henry is giggling into his fingers. “Why do they never have my size?” Alex laments, holding a nice pair of shoes that don’t come in seven and a half. Only seven or eight. Henry doesn’t mean to laugh, he didn’t really think that was something he did. Laugh at people’s expense. But he isn’t doing that. Alex is pouting over a pair of shoes, with wide brown eyes and slumped shoulders, and Henry is laughing at the absurdity of it all. He never thought that the man across the building cradling a beer to his chest was the type to pout and whine when a shop didn’t carry his size. He never thought he’d find that out. He never thought that stranger from that bar would turn into someone he knows. “You’re a dick,” Alex says, but he’s grinning and Henry is weak.

Pump The Volume by absoluteaudacity

Zahra, sitting across the table from Alex, gives him a stony glare. “Aids?” she signs and he shakes his head obstinately. His hearing aids make his ears itch and he isn’t wearing them in his own house, even if that house is The White House.

you're leaving (now i'm left amongst the living) by peppermintpatties

Six years since they've been together, Alex and Henry were now a far cry from the lovestruck couple they once were when their history began. If you ask Alex, all of it was Henry’s fault. If you ask Henry, he’d agree and say that Alex was right. But before Alex could ever find out why Henry does not seem like the man he once decided to spend the rest of his life with, he already walked away from it all. Now, Henry was alone, left to deal with whatever shattered remains he could salvage from his life. Or, the one where Henry’s sick and Alex only finds out two years after they've broken up.

shaken, not stirred by annesbonny

It starts when Henry orders a vodka martini, shaken not stirred. Or, the one where Alex has a little bit of a Thing for Bond, and Henry, after a very small amount of convincing, indulges him.

Rome, By All Means by schmulte

After five years away from home, His Royal Highness Prince Henry is finally returning to Europe to embark on a royal tour. After a particularly rough night filled with anxiety and homesickness, Henry sneaks out of his hotel to explore Rome and winds up asleep on a park bench. He's taken in by Alex, the son of a former US president trying to lay low after too much time spent in the press, and spends the night on his couch. From there, Alex is determined to show Henry a good time for at least one day of freedom, and the two become unlikely friends, and maybe something more.

Aftercare by whimsymanaged

When Alex has an intense hookup without aftercare, he finds himself on his best friend Henry’s doorstep in desperate need of looking after.

you're so gorgeous (it actually hurts) by vibrantsaturn

He's planning on mindlessly scrolling through his timeline while he waits for Henry to join the red carpet, but he feels an amused huff leave him when he sees 'alex can you fight,' is trending. His lip quirks up as he clicks on the screen to see what all of this is about, and he feels his breath leave him instantly. What the fuck. So. Henry has made it to the red carpet. And he looks fucking ethereal. Shit, he can't believe he gets to marry this man. How is his life real? or, People are thirsting over Henry on Twitter, and you know what? Valid. Alex can fight.

love is blind(folded) by weather_stained

“Baby,” he says, “you know I love what you can do with your gorgeous mouth, but I don't think even you could make me concentrate long enough to actually come amidst all this." He waves his hand in the general direction of the street where it sounds like they're repeatedly putting pieces of concrete in a blender and then throwing the whole blender in the garbage disposal. "Hm." Henry cocks his head to the side, letting his messy morning hair flop in his eyes. He purses his lips. "I might have an idea. If you trust me." There's loud construction outside the brownstone, but Henry helps Alex escape the noise.

The Witching Hours by RadioFriday

Henry drowned today in the waters of Lake LBJ. Henry also drowned yesterday. Alex was there. He remembers. June is certain she is breaking some kind of witching law but can't bring herself to care. Death of the Endless is a good sport even though she's far too busy for this Groundhog Day bullshit.

until next week! if you want to be tagged in future lists, let me know!

[nat-the-sleepyeth]

Fireworks

pairing: König x reader

warning: just a lil bit spicy in the end, and a bit of gg translated German so it might be shite.

summary: you invited König over to watch fireworks, and it got a bit too cold.

word count: 1700-ish

(A/N: my second writing ever hohoho let's go, and happy new year >:D)

11:36 p.m.

You were sitting on the couch, looking at the clock on top of your TV in front of you. A bottle of cola in your hand is half full. The sky is getting darker and darker every minute. He should have arrived five minutes ago. You can't stop worrying he will not come. No, he will be here. Just give him some time. You thought to yourself, maybe he got a little too excited and needs time to calm himself down.

König was standing at your front door for almost 15 minutes with a small potted African violet in his hand, not because he's worried if he came to the wrong house, there's no other house here for half a mile away. The man is trying to build enough courage to knock, should he text you that he's here first, or should he just knock before the plant goes stiff. Suddenly his phone vibrates in his pocket.

Y/N: Hey big man, are you lost?

Your text popped up on top of his screen, and he froze. Big man, huh. How could you keep finding nicknames to call him, and still every single one of it makes him blush. Before he could reply, another message from you popped up.

 

Y/N: It's okay if you change your mind, y’know. I'm not gonna be mad.

After seeing the text. He typed his reply as fast as he could, not wanting you to think that he stood you up. He'd never stood you up.

König: I'm at your door.

He heard a faint noise of stumbling, jumping, and running to the door. A clicking sound was heard and in the gap between the door, is your face. You were in your favorite sweater and a pair of black sweatpants. You look so cozy; it makes him kind of embarrassed because he’s in his black jacket and jeans like he’s taking you out or something.

“Oh wow, looking handsome tonight huh, big bear.” You were opening up the door to let him come in when your eyes locked on the small pot in his hands, you gasped. “König! You shouldn’t have,”

“I saw this at the shop and thought of you,” He handed you the plant. “At first I thought a bouquet of flowers would be nice, but it's not going to last long.”

“How thoughtful,” You reach out for the plant from him and gesture at him to come in. “c'mon, it's cold outside.”

König stepped into your humble little home. The smell of food hit his nose first thing. He eyed around your living room, then moved to the kitchen zone on the right. “Cozy, ich mag das.”

“Sorry?” You turned around and looked at him. It’s not unusual that he slipped some German in when he speaks, which you adore very much. However, your German sucks ass.

“I like it,” he said sitting down on the couch while you find a nice spot for your new little plant. After looking around for a solid minute, you decided to put it beside the window where the sunlight can reach it. König was looking at you while you put his small gift down with such care, in fact, he likes watching you move around in your big sweater. You look like a soft cuddly ball in his eyes.

“So, we have some time until midnight, want to eat something? I’ve put the pizza in the microwave, it should be ready now.”

“Sure,” The man walked up to you at the kitchen counter. “Need help?”

“Relax, Mr. Bear. I can do this, you’re my guest!” You gesture at him to go back to the couch.

Mr. Bear.

Mr. Bear.

Verdammt, get it together you silly man.

“I-I can’t just sit while you do all the work.” He stuttered.

“Well then, why don’t you go upstairs and tidy up the place for us?”

“Upstairs?”

“Yeah, we can watch the fireworks from there.”

He nodded silently, walking slowly up the stairs. Second level of the house is, for him, a private space. When you asked him to come, he didn’t think he’d have to come upstairs. König looks around and sees the balcony on the right side, the left side is the door to your room. How did he know that? Because the door is opened ajar. He couldn’t stop himself from looking into your room, despite knowing it’s not appropriate. In the small gap he can see your bed with a plushie on top of it. That’s all he sees before moving on to the balcony.

The balcony was already prepared, almost. You had a blanket down on the floor and a couple of bottles on top to prevent it from flying away. He lowered himself down on the blanket, soft wind blowing, sending a cold feeling onto his face. What should he do next, you both need more blankets, but all the blankets are in your bedroom, and he wouldn’t dare go in.

 

The sky is nice tonight, no clouds, the moon is shining beautifully, König thought about you, spending time here alone with a small town quite far away might be lonely. Even Though you are mostly off for the missions, you got to spend time with the team. It feels nothing like spending time with someone normal, just sitting down and talking and watching movies, doing normal things. He couldn’t remember the last time he did that with someone, now he gets to do it with you, even just for a short moment. He will do his best to enjoy it with you.

“The sky is pretty, don’t you think?” Your voice is heard from behind. He turned to look at you, your hand holding a plate, the other hand a bottle of cola. “Sorry I don’t have wine.”

“I don’t mind,” said König with a smile. He scooted over for you to sit beside him. You dropped yourself down and set the stuff in your hand between you both. “The sky is pretty.”

But you are the prettiest thing I see.

“It’s been some time since I came out here and looked at the sky.” You sigh softly. “It’s nice to see it with someone.”

König didn’t reply to that, instead he looked back up at the sky above, quietly cherishing the comfort of your presence. He can hear you picking up a slice of pizza and eating it quietly beside him. All this just feels normal, just being with you without saying anything. He wonders if this is what it’s like to spend time with someone, to be with someone.

“It’s very cold up here” You rub your hands together.

Suddenly König’s hand moves to your side, but before it touches you, he stops. He decided to take off his jacket, leaving only his black turtleneck to shield the cold. “Here,”

“Oh, thanks” You accept his jacket and put it over your body. The smell of coffee hits your nose, you can’t help but smile to yourself. “How sweet of you.” You leaned closer to him, resting your head on his broad shoulder.

His muscles tense up against you. König’s mind went crazy, his face heated up like a stove, both of his hands curled into fists. How should he act? Should he lean back onto you, or should he stay like this?  Though he tried his best not to move, to act normal, but you already notice the change in his physique.

“I’m sorry- was that too much-” You raised your head to look at him, seeing his red face makes yours lit up as well. Before you could move a bit further, you feel his hand on your shoulder, holding you close.

“Better keep close, it-it’s cold up here” He stumbled looking away from you. You can still see his red cheeks from this angle, he’s blushing. Was it because he likes it or because it’s the anxiety he’s having? You couldn’t tell. But you can tell by his hand that is holding firmly on your shoulder, he doesn’t want you to pull away.

 

You gave in to the urge and pressed a soft kiss on the side of his face. His face turned to face you, blue eyes widely looking at yours like a deer in headlights. Suddenly his eyes shift to your lips, and back up again. König leans closer, your faces are inches apart. You shift up to meet his touch. His lips were warm, surprisingly soft. You both stay still for a moment, letting the feeling tattoo into your brain, then you make the first move. He kisses you back softly, holding back the urge to just pin you down and do what he wants with you. Your hand touches the side of his face, caressing it. His hand on your shoulder now moves down to your waist, pulling you close. Without breaking the kiss, you move yourself up to straddle him. Your lower lip was taken by his teeth, pulling it gently. You both return the touches for a while, then break apart, gasping for air. “I can’t believe I waited this long to do this.”

Your eyes lock with his, faces still so close you can feel his warm breath on your skin. “You are so beautiful in my jacket,” König whispers. “Schatz, so gorgeous.”

His words earn a small chuckle from you, but before you could say something in return, König pulled you back to meet his lips. His warm hands slip under your sweater, meet the skin of your waist, while he tastes you. You feel so small in his embrace, so safe, yet so fragile. His low, raspy voice whispers soft little praise between the kisses. Suddenly you feel the sky lit up in colors, it’s midnight. König pulls away to look up briefly, then his lips are back on yours again.

“Konig-” You gasp between the kisses. “We’re going to miss the fireworks.”

“I could miss thousands of them if it means I get to have you like this, liebling.”