#send help hunger woke up in me

[khrystia]

Get to Know Better Tag

Thanks my favorite @risingsoleil for tagging me 🫶

1. Three ships: Sokka/Suki, Katara/Aang, Lin Beifong/Tenzin

2. First ever ship: Flora/Helia

3. Last song: Ethereal by Txmy

4. Last film: Mean Girls

5. Currently reading: I See You Are Interested In The Dark — Hilarion Pavlyuk

6. Currently watching: Avatar: The legend of Korra (rewatching) and The crown

7. Currently consuming: tea with lemon and my tears

8. Currently craving: khachapuri in Adjarian (georgian (sakartvelian) cheese-pie), something from Japanese cuisine (but not very spicy) and mango omg i want it so much

Tagging: @kvitlllllli @coyotelemon @yxngchen @kataangiscanon @prying-pandora666 @chiefbeifongcanrailme

[i2sunric]

𝐖𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 (p.sh)

PAIRING: knight!sunghoon x queen!reader (f)

SUMMARY: after your parents death, you were forced to be crowned queen of the north realm and decided to take a young sergeant as your personal guard. however, you can’t ignore the evident tension between the two of you, that will lead to some… illicit affairs. well, it never happened if nobody knows, right?

WARNINGS: 1800s au. mentions of war and death, fencing terms, sexual tension, unprotected sex (they didn’t have condoms, did they?), masturbation, dirty talk, missionary, fingering, cream pie, angst if you squint (like, really squint), mentions of scars, pet names (sweetheart), i abused the world ‘would’. i know. lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 20th August 2024

WC: 6k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey y @destinyhoon (oneshot) @indigoez @astratlantis @shuichi-sama @skaterhoon @simsungsims @hoonatic @sammie217 @hoonics @kissesforthefangirl @woorcve @laurradoesloveu @capri-cuntz @whateverhoon @woninluv @cyjhhyj @alienqbrain BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED.

NOW PLAYING: War Of Hearts by Ruelle

a/n: honestly, i don’t like it. the idea was good, the outcome not so, but let me know your thoughts. i literally don’t know old english, my knowledge comes from pride and prejudice and bridgerton, im sorry (i gave up by the end and it shows). please LIKE & REBLOG (or don’t, cause this is the worst fic i’ve ever written lol)

You hadn’t realised just how drastically your life could change overnight until you woke up to the news that your father, the ever so powerful king of the North realm, had died in war.

Soon, your teachers were making you learn about strategies and alliances, not about history anymore, your legions kneeled before you, ready to be at your service.

You had to watch your mother, the woman you looked up to, being consumed by the grief of her dead husband until the grim reaper decided to make them reunite.

Leaving you all alone. Helpless, bearing a burden so heavy it crashed your shoulders.

In just the span of a month you found yourself leading a kingdom through war, sending hundreds of warriors to their death sentence.

The crown weighed significantly on your head, your desk was full of scrambled letters and quills dripping ink, and if it wasn’t for your most-trusted maid, Ella, you would’ve certainly already died of hunger, leaving your people without a ruler.

Fortunately, the same day of your coronation, the first day of you being a queen was also the first day of a young sergeant.

He was the youngest of all, just like you being the youngest of the monarchs, and was leading the loyal legion.

Doing a better job than you, you had to say. He was diligent, perfect in his tasks and polite whenever you interpellated him.

His name was Park Sunghoon, and it didn’t take much for you to nominate him as your personal royal guard.

He was an attractive man, barely a couple of years older than you but he indeed towered you by much.

Sunghoon’s face was sharp, with a defined jawline and hardly any trace of baby-fat left.

Despite his frail appearance, you knew he had defined muscles hidden under his white guard uniform, you had seen it.

Even if you were busy with your tight schedule, especially after your coronation, you still found the time to peek at him.

In the morning he’d train the royal legions, helping new warriors. In the afternoon, he would follow you through your travels around the realm, visiting villages and other castles.

The days you stayed at the castle he’d occupy his afternoons by doing some training alone and some evenings he would stand out of your bedroom to guard.

And Sunghoon? Well, he was as attracted to you as you were.

It always sent jolts of excitement whenever he was around you, walking you to your activities and always keeping an eye for possible harms.

Especially one day, when Ella ran towards him with a bucket full of water when he was guarding your bedroom “Sergeant!” She panted, “Please, would you be so kind to bring this into her majesty’s room? I need to get another one.”

Sunghoon was quick to nod “Of course.” He replied politely and took the heavy — for her, not so for him — bucket from her hands.

Ella sincerely thanked him and hurried away to complete her task while the young guard opened your bedroom door.

When his eyes raised to your figure, he saw you standing there… naked. Probably expecting your maid to enter and certainly not your personal guard.

Your hands quickly shot to cover your dignity, your cheeks tinting a deep shade of pink as you breathed “Dear lord.”

Had he been more reckless, he would’ve dropped the bucket, but he managed to keep his polite demeanour.

“My sincere apologies, my lady, I should’ve knocked.” He turned slightly to the side so as not to look at you, but still managed to peek from the corner of his eye.

“D-doesn’t matter..” You murmured, reaching for the nightgown on the chair of the desk and quickly slipping it on “I just didn’t expect it to be… you, sergeant.”

Sunghoon nodded, “Where do you want me to place this?” He asked, raising the container of water.

You stepped aside, hugging your arms like you were afraid your nightgown could reveal your body to him once more. Not like he would complain.

“Inside the tub would be great.” You replied, watching as he lifted the bucket and dropped the hot water in it.

Sunghoon dared to look at you only then, bowing his head slightly “I apologise again. I did not wish to make you uncomfortable.”

You let out a small breath and offered him a warm smile. You were always so kind and thoughtful to everyone, it made him want to lock those who dared to criticise you in the dungeons and make them all perish.

“Worry not,” Your voice was gentle, like a ray of sunshine through the storm “I forgive you, after all, it was an accident.”

Sunghoon thought that if he ever had the chance to take a glimpse at your perfect, naked body, he would’ve taken it right away.

But he chose against letting you know and opted for a “Thank you, my queen.” He bowed, “Anything else you need for me?”

“No, thank you.” You said “You can go back to your duty.”

He nodded and headed to the door, hesitating for a second and then walked out.

The image of your naked body was hard to remove from his mind. Sergeant.

Your curves, your dips, the colour of your skin, your breasts and your pretty pussy… Sergeant?

He wondered what you would feel like if he touched you, tasted you— “Sergeant!”

The voice of one of the royal guards snapped Sunghoon out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat “Yes?”

“It’s my turn,” He said, his eyes blinking faintly “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes, worry not.” Sunghoon nodded and gave his farewell to the guard before walking to his chamber.

Since you had labelled him worthy of being your personal knight, his bedroom was in the same wing as yours, unlike all the other knights in the legion that stayed in the West wing.

He entered his chamber and closed the door behind his back, the room was dark except for the moonlight shining from the window.

It was better that way, he enjoyed the natural light, rather than the artificial one from the candles that also smelled bad and spread smoke in the room.

Sunghoon sighed, quickly removing his uniform to put on some more comfortable clothes, some black pants and a white, sleeved shirt.

He dropped down on the bed, another quiet sigh leaving his lips.

He rested one of his arms behind his head while he played mindlessly with the laces of his shirt.

It was stronger than him, his mind kept replaying the same scene over and over again.

Your body.

Perhaps, it was that you were so modest, despite literally being the ruler of the kingdom, or it was the fact that you were literally his type.

But he was drawn to you, the same way a donkey was to the apple in front of him. Maybe not the best example, but you get it.

At the thought of your flushed face, he felt his pants growing tighter. At your plump and tender lips, he palmed himself to soothe his growing desire.

At the memory of your perky nipples and your breasts, his hand slipped inside his trousers until he pulled them down to his ankles.

Sunghoon knew he couldn’t be loud, but the soft whimpers and groans that left his lips weren’t contained.

He imagined it was your hand, the one providing him relief, that you were down on your knees, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Oh yes, you’re so good.” He whispered, squeezing the base of his thick cock, it twitched.

The tip was angry red as he heavenly stroked it, never focusing on one place more than the other.

If it were you, would you lick his tip? Would you squeeze his balls and take him in your mouth?

Would you ever fit him all?

“Take my cock,” He groaned, thrusting his hips upward to fuck his fist “Take it like a good girl.”

He pressed two fingers on the tip of his length, edging himself “You like to tease, my lady?”

So many filthy scenes played in his mind, keeping him company as he felt the sweet sensation in his lower stomach.

“I’m so close, sweetheart.” He groaned, moving his hand so fast it almost hurt his wrist “You want it on your breasts? Of course.” He kept moving until he saw white, “Take it.”

He was left spent, dirty white all over his sheets as he tried to even his breath.

Sunghoon fell asleep with a smile on his face that night, and he woke up even better after you visited his dreams and showed him how much you wanted him.

…Too bad it wasn’t real, right?

𓆩♡𓆪

After your little and awkward interaction with Sunghoon, the previous evening, you decided to go find him during his late afternoon training.

You would’ve lied if you were to say it didn’t turn you on, the thought of being seen by him in such an intimate manner. But that, he mustn’t know.

He was wearing a black sleeved shirt and a pair of trousers of the same colour, a great contrast with his skin.

You quietly tip-toed, walking towards as he stroked in the air with the fencing sword.

His movements were calculated, precise and so mesmerising you hadn’t even realised you were right behind him until the blade stopped right beside your jugular.

You gulped “Good evening.” Sunghoon widened his eyes and quickly placed himself into a more polite position, removing the swords from your neck “I'm so sorry, my lady, I didn’t see you coming.”

You just smiled at him “You seem excellent at fencing.” You commented, your fingertips trailing the blade of the sword, careful not to cut yourself.

“Fencing is one of my favourite parts of training, my queen.” He replied, his tone serious.

You hummed “Is that so?” The way the sunset kissed his skin, how his hair was perfectly combed and matched with his fit looked straight out of the erotic novels you hid under your bed.

“I’ve always wanted to learn this type of art.” You informed him “Though, it would be too scandalous for a woman to do it, wouldn’t it?”

Sunghoon’s gaze was soft as he commented “There’s nothing scandalous in wanting to be able to defend yourself.” He threw you a french sword “Even if you have a whole legion before you.”

You swiftly caught it, circling around Sunghoon while he did the same.

“Nah ah,” He was quick to correct “Eyes on the enemy’s, never on the sword.” You diverted your gaze from the sword to his chocolate, warm eyes.

“Great,” Sunghoon praised. “You must study your enemy if you have the time, watch his body language.”

He stroked again and you barely missed it. A second time and you docked it.

At the third, you blocked it “You slightly blink your right eye when you strike.”

Sunghoon smiled proudly, “Yes, that’s right.” You squealed happily, making him slightly widen his eyes.

If it wasn’t the best sound he’d ever heard.

“Now, your strike isn’t bad, especially in second and third, but your position can be better.” He dropped his sword and walked behind you.

“Bend your knees.” He commanded and you obliged again, following his instructions “Your arm shouldn’t stay that far… tilt your elbow.”

“Your back is already straight,” His fingers trailed the laces of your corset, feeling your spine underneath them “But your chin should be tilted… like this.” He tipped your chin up with his index finger.

“How about how?” You whispered breathlessly, feeling the coldness of his skin against your burning one.

“Better, but not perfect.” Sunghoon replied and quickly put space between the two of you “Still, you’re one of my best students.”

You smiled happily and was about to reply when Ella called you from afar because dinner was being served.

You sighed “I must go.” You said, slightly hoping he would keep you with him.

However, obviously, he just nodded and bowed. “It has been a pleasure, my lady.”

As he watched you walk away, he hoped you hadn’t felt the proof of his desire pressed against your back when he fixed your position… the proof he had to fix before anyone could notice.

𓆩♡𓆪

Sunghoon’s footsteps echoed through the dark hallway as he made his way to your room. He wasn’t sure about the reason as to why you called him, given the fact that he was supposed to be patrolling the main gates, but it seemed clear when he noticed you had already sent the guard outside your room to rest.

He stood in front of your bedroom door, the hallway only dimly lit by the few candles on the walls.

There was something in his mind that told him he was still in time to turn his heels and simply ignore your late-night visit request, even if it would eventually get him in trouble.

Still, he aight and placed his hand on the doorknob, quietly opening your bedroom door and entering.

Out of precaution, he locked the door behind him and made a few steps towards you, nevertheless keeping some distance.

“My queen,” Sunghoon began, “I thought you’d be asleep by now.” His tone was quiet, almost concerned.

You were standing in front of the large window that gave you a nice view of the royal gardens, the moonlight illuminating the room as well as a few candles on the tables.

Despite the late hours, you were still wearing your pistachio green gown, your favourite one. The one that once belonged to your mother.

It gave you a sense of comfort, reminiscing the days where you would drown in the fabric as you played queen and princess with her.

You deeply wished it was still a game.

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping.” You replied, still giving him your back.

Sunghoon cleared his throat. Yes, he’d seen you in that gown the same morning, but now, in the intimacy of your chamber, it made him want to drop to his knees.

He made his way so that he was standing just a few steps behind you “Any particular reason for your lack of sleep?” He inquired.

You sighed softly. The moon made your doe eyes sparkle, as if they held the stars in them, “Perhaps, thoughts of the upcoming war.”

Sunghoon’s hands hitched to hold yours, to give you the comfort you needed without any paternal figure to rely on.

Still, he kept them clasped behind his back. The need to be respectful of your position was still in the front of his mind.

“It is not confirmed yet,” He tried to reassure “The other kingdoms may decide not to attack anymore.”

You tried to find reassurance in his words, but even if your people thought so, you weren’t naïve. “They killed my father,” You gulped. “It’s just a matter of time before they come at me next.”

And that was true, everytime you ever tried to close your eyes to seek some rest, your mind would play any possible scenario.

You being slayed, you being beheaded… your kingdom going in flames.

“No one will touch you,” His voice was soothing, like a hand pulling you out of deep water, preventing you from drowning “Not while I’m here.”

You finally allowed yourself to look at him, afraid that if you did it the second you heard the key of your room twisting you would’ve kissed him.

His hair was still perfectly in place, his forehead in sight. His porcelain-like skin glowing under the rays of the moon, caressing his cheeks.

You offered him a polite smile “You seem confident, sergeant.”

Sunghoon let the briefest of a smile form on his lips “Confidence comes with the job,” He said, softly “It is my duty to protect you, my queen, and I take that very seriously.

“What else does your job offer?” You asked, fully turning your body towards him “Apart from private fencing lessons and a twenty-four-seven guarding.”

His breath hitched slightly when you stood in front of him, he hadn’t even realised the vicinity you two had until he had to tilt his head down to stare at you. It would be so easy to reach out and touch you, to feel your skin against his hands.

Sunghoon’s gaze slowly dragged from your chest up to your face. “That’s it, mainly,” He said, his voice a little rougher than before. “Though… my duties extend to anything you ask of me, my queen.”

“Anything?” You murmured quietly, your eyes widening.

He wanted to touch you so badly, to pull you against him so he could kiss you and touch you anywhere and everywhere. But he had to keep the professional veil going, even though he knew you were baiting him.

He nodded, his eyes on yours “Anything at all.”

You batted your eyelashes, trying to seduce him without boldly doing so “Is that so, sergeant?”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenched, struggling to keep his composure and hoping you weren’t able to see the effect of your presence.

He took a deep breath before replying “Yes, anything you ask of me.”

You gulped, your heart pounding in your chest as you gathered the courage to put into action your plan “I believe I need to unwind,” You stated “Any ideas?”

Sunghoon’s mind was immediately flooded with ideas, most of them very, very inappropriate for the moment. He bit his lip and tried to keep a straight face.

He considered keeping up the professional front but quickly decided against it. He was tired of forcing himself to maintain control.

“I do have a few ideas, my queen,” He said, his voice a low rumble. “Mind sharing them with me?” You asked.

Sunghoon stepped closer to you, so close that your bodies were almost touching. “My ideas may not be entirely appropriate, my queen,” He replied, “Would you like to hear them anyway?”

You closed briefly your eyes, just the brief feeling of his body near yours sending jolts of fire through your veins “I’m all ears.”

His eyes roamed over your face and body, taking in every single detail. He was practically salivating, desperate to touch you in any way possible.

Sunghoon leaned even closer, his breath now hot on your skin. “I have things I'd like to do, my queen,” He whispered in your ear. “Wicked things, to distract you from your stress.”

You let out a shaky breath, shivering from head to toe “Wicked?” You questioned.

Sunghoon felt his control slip as chuckled slowly, “Oh, very wicked, my lady.”

He brought his lips to your neck, planting soft kisses up and down your skin, taking you by surprise.

However, he kept his hands firmly by his sides, restraining himself from wandering. “I want to do things that would be highly inappropriate for a sergeant to do to his queen.”

“And who says so?” You breathed out, aching for him, your eyes flattering closed.

Sunghoon hummed against your skin, his lips moving to your collarbone. “That would be the royal laws,” He replied quietly, “Among other things.”

“I could get punished for this, you know.” He said in between kisses. “My actions are considered disrespectful.”

“I could change the law,” You replied, hooking your arms around his neck “For the night.”

His hands immediately went to your hips, grabbing you and pulling you even closer to him. “Just for the night, my queen?” He murmured against your skin, his lips trailing kisses up your jaw “I might want more than just one night.”

You chuckled lowly, “How do you know so already, sergeant?”

sunghoon’s hands moved from your hips to your thighs, caressing them through your nightgown, his thumbs tracing patterns against your skin.

Sunghoon pulled back to look at you, his eyes darkened significantly. “I'm quite sure, my queen,” He said, “The things I want to do to you are not something I can do just once.”

You shivered at his words, and the hungry way he was shamelessly looking at you. It almost seemed unreal, the polite soldier losing his cool in front of you, “How about you show me what you can do tonight, first?”

He looked at you, his gaze dark and intense, before leaning in and pressing his lips against yours in a rough kiss.

You moaned and gripped his shoulders tightly and he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth desperately, like he was starving.

You tip toed, desperate to reach for him, to feel his lips on yours and make you forget all the duties you had.

Sunghoon chuckled against your lips, amused by your struggle to reach his height. He pulled back, a smirk on his face. “Too short for me, my queen?”

Without warning, he lifted you up with ease, and he continued the kiss.

You wrapped your legs around his waist to steady yourself, thanking yourself for not having worn an underskirt that would’ve made it impossible for you to straddle him.

Sunghoon groaned against your mouth as you wrapped your legs around his waist, the kiss becoming more desperate and rougher.

He moved his lips from your mouth and attacked your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bites as he went. One of his hands moved from your thigh to your butt, squeezing it appreciatively.

You groaned and let your head fall back, goosebumps filling your skin in reaction to his lips.

Your fingers tried to tug his blue uniform jacket, desperate to remove any clothing between the two of you.

He gently helped you to remove it, chuckling against your neck at your eagerness.

You rocked your hips, needing to feel him, to soothe the aching sensation between your legs.

He pressed his own hips back onto yours, you could feel the proof of his desire for you, secluded in his pants.

“You have no idea how hard it is not to take you right now,” He thrust upwards, making you gasp.

“What’s stopping you, sergeant?” You asked breathlessly, you knew he was trying to restrict himself, to draw a line that shouldn’t be crossed.

But you didn’t care, all you had in mind was how good his touch was on your skin, his lips on yours and how better it would’ve been if he was inside you.

“Nothing,” Sunghoon whispered in your ear, his breath causing your body to shiver “Absolutely nothing, as long as you’re not opposed to it.”

You chuckled, looking down at yourself “Does it look like I’m against it?”

Your sweet laugh only made him madder and he kissed you, tasting your lips “No, not at all, my queen.”

“Then, take me.” You whispered on his lips, your hand caressing down his arm, still clothed from his sleeved shirt.

Sunghoon shivered under your touch, your words breaking the last strand of self-restraint he had. He grabbed your hips, suddenly carrying you to the bed and dropping you down on it.

He quickly dropped to his knees between your legs, his hands on either side of you, trapping you in “You won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” He warned.

Your hair formed a halo around your head, spread around the mattress. Your chest was heaving up and down as you replied, “That's fine by me.”

Sunghoon hummed appreciatively at the sight of you splayed out on the bed underneath him. You looked divine, like an angel sent to drive him insane.

He connected his lips to yours once again, his hands moving behind your back as you propped yourself on your elbows.

His skilled fingers worked on the laces of your corset, undoing them.

You frowned, pulling away “Experienced much?”

Sunghoon chuckled softly as he got the corset undone, pulling the fabric off you and discarding it on the floor.

He shook his head before replying, a smirk on his lips. “Just a few,” He said. “and I have been fantasising about this moment for a while now.”

“Have you?” You whispered, your hands caressing his chest, where the v-neckline of the shirt exposed it “Have you thought about me late at night, sergeant?”

Sunghoon sighed softly, his eyes closing briefly as he confessed “Yes,” He said “Every night I’ve wondered what you would taste like, how soft you were, what your moans sounded like.”

His words only made you bolder. “Have you touched yourself wishing it was me?”

Now that the corset wasn’t restricting your air capacity, it also made the dress fall down your shoulder, exposing them to him.

He leaned down and pressed gentle kisses on your skin, trailing them up to your ear “Yes, my queen. I’ve touched myself wishing it was you, craving your body and soul.”

You let out a shaky breath, the sweet sensation warming your lower stomach “Perhaps, I have done the same.”

Sunghoon groaned loudly against your skin, his body shuddering at your confession “You’ve touched yourself, thinking about me?”

You flopped back onto the mattress and hummed “Yes.”

He was completely losing it, the thought of you touching yourself, thinking about him, driving him crazy. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to regain some composure.

“Tell me more,” He rasped, his voice a low rumble. “Tell me what you've done, what you've imagined."

You bit your bottom lip, afraid to voice out your late night secrets.

“Go on, my queen.” His voice was soft and soothing, his hips just barely pressing against yours “I won’t judge you, I can’t… Can I?” He let out a quiet chuckle.

You breathed out “I’ve thought about your fingers,” You gulped “Touching me in places no one has touched before.”

“Where?” He whispered, his nose grazing your cheek “Tell me.”

Instead of speaking, you took his hand and slowly guided it down your body, you were still covered by your dress but he could still feel your core beating under his touch.

So, in one swift movement he placed his hand under your skirt, feeling just how damp your underthings were, making you gasp.

“You’re so wet for me.” He murmured, “Is this how you are around me?”

You nodded, all drops of self awareness down the drain.

Sunghoon smirked, taking your hand with his free one and placing it on the front of his pants, making you feel his hard on “That’s what you do to me.”

Amazed, you started to palm him, letting your hand feel “I do?”

“Yes,” He whispered, his hips bucking against your touch “All the time.”

“Please,” You pleaded, “I can’t take it anymore, I really need you.”

Sunghoon sighed “There’s no turning back from this, my queen..”

“Y/N.” You blurted out, eyes taking in his reaction.

Without having you to explain, he knew what you meant. You wanted him to call you by your name, crossing a boundary that would be hard to build back.

Still, he reached behind your back and unzipped your dress, slowly slipping it down.

You laid underneath it, the only thing separating you from him was your lace underwear, your upper body bare for him to see.

Sunghoon rested his chest on yours, his fingers grazing your clothed core as he whispered in your ear “Y/N.” Making you moan.

You nodded, your arms wrapping around his neck to steady yourself “Sunghoon.” You breathed back.

“Y/N..” He murmured, slipping your panties to the side and teasing your entrance with his digits “My pretty, pretty girl.”

Your eyes flickered closed, senses awakened by his single touch.

“You’ve never done this?” He questioned, gathering all your juices in his fingers, your pussy clenching around nothing.

You shook your head, your mind already a puddle of nothing “No.”

“Then I need to get you all nice and lose, mh?” Sunghoon murmured, inserting one of his fingers inside your wet folds.

You gasped, your back arching against him at the intrusion “Oh lord.”

The sensation was so new but so welcome, you had never really dared to finger yourself, your orgasms were given by clit stimulation only, so when his digit thrust into you, your body jolted with each one.

Sunghoon’s lips attached to your left breath, tongue swirling around your nipple and you thought you couldn’t feel any better until he curled his fingers and found your sweet spot, making you moan out loud.

“Shh,” He cooed, pressing one hand on your mouth while his teeth gently grazed your abused nipple. “You don’t want anyone to find out what we’re doing, don’t you?”

You were quick to shake your head, but as he thrust a second finger in your pussy, you grunted.

One of your hands went to the back of his head, your fingers knotting his perfectly combed hair “S-sunghoon.”

You bucked your hips up, needing him to stop and continue at the same time “Feels so good.”

Sunghoon chuckled lowly, both his fingers brushing against your sweet spot “I know, Y/N.” He murmured “Let me take care of you.”

You nodded mindlessly; you thought that even if he asked you to hand over the kingdom you would’ve nodded anyways.

You whimpered, your other hand digging in the flesh of his shoulders from the amount of pleasure you were feeling.

“I’ve got you.” He whispered, brushing his thumb on your bundle of nerves “Relax.”

You could feel the knot in your stomach tighten with each thrust of his fingers, just a brief pain from the intrusion making your head spin.

“Oh lord,” You breathed out, “I think I—“ Another broken whimper left your mouth.

Sunghoon nodded, understanding you and crashed his lips on yours, drowning your moans in.

Another thrust of his fingers got you falling apart under him, your whole body trembling.

It took a good couple of minutes and his soothing words to calm you down, your breath still laboured but at least you could keep your body still.

You opened your eyes back and met his own, he offered you a sweet smile “You’re perfect.” He whispered, kissing your forehead.

You smiled back at him, slowly releasing your strong grip around his neck. “This has been… amazing.”

“I’m glad, my— Y/N.” Sunghoon quickly corrected himself, “But… we don’t have to do anything more.”

You frowned, worry coating your features “Was it because you didn’t feel good? I can help—“

He was fast to shake his head. “No, of course not.” He caressed your cheek “I just don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“You will not.” You sat up, looking inside his eyes to convince him “I want it, Sunghoon, I want it with my whole body and soul.”

He closed his eyes and dropped his head, as if he physically restrained himself from reaching out to you and take you in all the ways someone can be taken.

“I want you so much it’s driving me insane,” He breathed out, resting his forehead against your chest “My sweetheart, I would love to make you mine… will you allow me to?”

You nodded “Yes, please.” You tugged at his shirt, needing him to remove it.

Sunghoon complied, tossing it to the floor as well as his trousers, leaving himself bare to you.

At first, you hadn’t understood why he was so reluctant to be intimate with you, but as soon as your eyes met his bare chest, you did.

Your breath hitched at the sight of a wide scar all across his chest, looking like half a cross.

“Sunghoon…” You whispered, your fingers trailed over it. He flinched but quickly relaxed under your gentle touch “What happened to you?”

His eyes were so vulnerable and he looked like a lost boy, not like the sergeant of a legion. “I will just say that I had a close contact with a blade, back when I was still training to become a knight.”

He gulped “I understand if I repulse you—“

“No,” You quickly took his face in your hands “No. You’re beautiful.”

He frowned, as if not understanding what would you ever find beauty in such a scar.

Seeing that he wasn’t believing you, you laid on your back and wrapped your arms around his neck, taking him down with you.

Your hand reached to pump his shaft and it was as if he died and came to life again, nothing like those nights he touched himself thinking about you, could prepare him from this.

You slowly aligned him with your folds and nodded, wanting him to make the first move.

He let out a pained sigh and gripped your waist, finally pushing in you.

You were still wet from the foreplay and as well as your cum, but it didn’t mean you didn’t feel some pain from his thickness.

He moved slowly, his breath fanning your cheeks while he brushed his nose against your skin.

“How does it feel?” Sunghoon whispered in your ear “Mh? Tell me, Y/N.”

Your skin was sweaty and hot, “So good.” You murmured back, tightening your hold on his neck “Faster, please.”

You begged him so sweetly and politely he couldn’t refuse, his hips moving against yours slightly faster “You want to make love?” He questioned “Or do you want me to take you like how I’ve wanted since I laid my eyes on you?”

“Take me.” You choked out, your eyes squeezing from the pleasure “Hard, I don’t care.”

Sunghoon circled your waist with his arm and held you tightly against him, you could feel the shadow of his scar on your chest.

His hips snapped on yours so fast even the bed started creaking, and you secretly hoped no servant was walking by to hear your show.

“Open up.” Sunghoon said and you obliged, opening your mouth.

He gathered some saliva in his mouth before spitting in yours, watching as it went down your throat.

You hummed, gulped it, tasting him “Jesus Christ.” He shook his head, his cock twitching inside of you.

“I don’t think I can last longer.” He squeezed his eyes, his fingers digging in your hips as he tried to restrain himself.

“Don’t you dare unless I cum again.” Your fingers went to stroke your bundle of nerves fast “Together.”

Sunghoon hummed, his own movements getting sloppy but never faltering as he chased his high.

“Y/N.” He groaned, one of his nails piercing your skin, adding just the right amount of pain to send you over the edge.

“Now!” You cried out, your body shaking with your second orgasm of the night.

Sunghoon let out a deep growl and emptied his seed in you, coating your clenching walls.

“So perfect.” He kissed the top of your head, his voice soothing after the intensity of the night “You’re perfect.”

He got up and took a napkin from your table, carefully cleaning your legs while also prepping kisses on your inner thighs.

You were sure that if your body wasn’t tired you would’ve mounted him.

Sunghoon reached into his clothes but your hand darted out to stop him “Stay.”

His eyes softened, pondering between staying or leaving. He opted for the first.

You had never felt happier than falling asleep with the sound of his heartbeat next to your ear, aimlessly hoping it wouldn’t be the last time.

But your relationship made it so that he was forced to peel himself away from you when he thought you were asleep, gathering his clothes and quietly slipping out of your room.

And it was the best decision, soon, you would’ve had to find a husband, make an heir for your real, rule it with all your attention.

Good thing, late night was made to unwind, and it never happened if nobody knew… did it?

[cheoliehansolie]

The Hoodie

Summary: Wonwoo learns something interesting about you wearing his hoodies.

Word Count: ~2.8 k

Pairing: fem reader x Wonwoo

Warnings: Implied smut and a bit suggestive

an: I'm finally back after accidentally taking a break for a month. Thank you guys for waiting patiently <3. As always, if you liked reading this, please reblog or leave a comment. If you have any suggestions or you just want to talk, send me an ask and we can be friends 💕

To read more, check out my masterlist.

---

You woke up to the soft rays of sunlight filtering into your room through your blinds. Waking up to the warmth of sunlight on your cheeks had to be your favorite part of spring. Glancing at the clock on your bedside table, you shock yourself with how early you’ve woken up on a Saturday.

Normally you’re one to sleep until you absolutely need to get out of bed on the weekends, but today you’ve somehow managed to wake up at 7:30. Feeling proud of yourself, you decide to take this as your sign to be productive and to spend the day finally cleaning your apartment.

This past week had been hectic with work and the semester coming to an end that you barely had time to sleep, let alone clean your space. So, your apartment had been looking like a tornado blew through it for a while now and it definitely was not helping your mental state.

Deciding to bite the bullet, you shove your blanket from off your figure and force yourself out of bed. What? Just because you woke up early and decided to be productive in your head doesn’t mean that it’s not hard to get out of bed, especially when the mornings are still cold.

You rush into the bathroom to quickly brush your teeth and shower to warm yourself up. Once you’re done with your shower, you put on a pair of leggings and your hoodie (yeah, definitely yours and not your boyfriend’s).

As you’re tying your hair up into a ponytail, you make your way out of your room and into the living room. You immediately groan seeing all your college papers on your dining table which is serving as your makeshift desk, the trash on your kitchen counters, and the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

Seeing the amount of overall filth in your living space, you were extremely tempted to just go back to bed and pretend you never had plans of cleaning, but you knew that if you didn’t clean your apartment now, you never would. So, you grab your phone, blast your cleaning playlist, and get to work.

—

It took you basically all morning just to clean your kitchen and it’s safe to say that morale was at an all time low. You collapsed onto your couch out of exhaustion and hunger. You hadn’t expected it to take so long to clean so you thought you could just eat breakfast after cleaning.

The second your body began relaxing on the couch, you heard a knock at your door. You laid there silently hoping that the person at your door would leave, but less than a minute later the knocking continued.

You let out a groan of frustration as you force yourself off the couch and make the trek to the front door less than a few feet away.

You swing open your front door, a frown still on your face. It takes you a second to register who’s at your door, but when you do, you’re left confused.

Wonwoo stands in front of you dressed casually a pair of gray sweatpants and a black tee shirt. You notice in one hand he’s holding a white plastic bag, which you can only assume contains take out.

“Wonwoo? What are you doing here?” you ask as you wrack your brain trying to remember if you had plans to see each other today.

“You weren’t answering any of my texts so I decided to stop by and make sure everything was okay.” he explains as you step aside letting him into your apartment.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I spent the past few hours cleaning. I haven’t been on my phone since I got up. I didn’t mean to worry you.” you say with your lips slightly down turned and eyebrows furrowed.

You felt bad for making him worry to the point that he felt the need to come to your apartment.

“Hey, it’s fine.” he says softly, noticing how upset you looked at yourself. “I wanted to see you anyways, so you not answering gave me an excuse to see you.”

Once Wonwoo took his shoes off, he finally registered what you looked like. His lips almost immediately turned up into a small smile as he realized that the hoodie you were wearing was none other than his own. He noticed the subtle flush in your cheeks, the thin sheen of sweat creating a film over your skin, and the way strands of hair were falling out of your ponytail. 

Noticing the fact that Wonwoo was just silently standing in your entryway, you ushered him deeper into your apartment. Honestly, you had noticed his eyes wandering over your figure and you couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed by the current state of your appearance. You and Wonwoo had been dating for about a year, but something about the way he looks at you makes you feel the same way you did during your first date.

“So, whatcha got in the bag?” you asked, looking pointedly at the plastic bag in his right hand.

“Oh, this? I picked up lunch from your favorite place. I thought you might’ve been sleeping or something when I texted you so I thought it would be nice to bring you some food.”

“Aww, thank you so much babe!” you exclaim in excitement. “Why don’t you go sit on the couch and I’ll just grab us some plates from the kitchen?”

Wonwoo gives you a nod as he makes his way to the couch. He places the bag of food on the table in front of him and he watches as you walk around the kitchen grabbing plates, utensils, and glasses of water for the two of you. He can’t help but coo every time you tug at the sleeves of his too large hoodie to grab everything.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you ask once you’ve joined your boyfriend on the couch.

“No reason. You just look cute in my hoodie, that’s all.” he says, a small smile of endearment grazing his lips.

You feel yourself flush at his statement and pull your hair out of your lopsided ponytail as an attempt to distract yourself from how flustered Wonwoo still makes you even after how long you’ve been dating.

“Let’s eat, shall we?” you ask, trying to steer the conversation to more neutral territory. 

Wonwoo can’t keep himself from smiling a little wider at your flustered state, but he decides to take pity on you and drops the subject. Just this once, though.

Soon enough, conversation flows easily between the two of you as you share your meal together. Before you know it, the plates in front of you are empty and there lies another thing left for you to clean. Just as you’re about to get up to clean the small mess in front of you (it merely is a drop of water in the ocean of a mess your apartment is), Wonwoo beats you to it and is stacking the dirty utensils in his hands.

“Wonwoo, I can clean it.” you whine when he motions for you to stay seated as he continues cleaning.

“You can rest on the couch. Didn’t you say that you spent the entire morning cleaning?” he asks.

“Yeah, but I -” before you can finish your sentence, Wonwoo cuts you off.

“No buts! You looked exhausted when I got here. The least I can do is clean up the mess I helped make. Besides, I’m not called the dishwashing fairy for nothing.” he says with a smile.

Before you can protest, Wonwoo gives you a pointed look and you realize there’s no way that you can change his mind so you collapse backwards onto your couch letting him do whatever he wants.

You’re left alone with your thoughts for the first time today with the soft clattering of dishes coming from the kitchen serving as white noise. You’re suddenly aware of how warm you feel and you feel as though you are overheating. 

You had spent the day either distracted by cleaning or distracted by Wonwoo that you didn’t realize the rise in temperature in your apartment. It was finally spring time and as much as you loved it, you despised how it would be so cold in the mornings and evenings but warm in the afternoons making it almost impossible to dress appropriately without freezing in the morning or melting in the afternoon.

Feeling sweat prickle on your skin, you decide the only thing you can do is change out of Wonwoo’s thick hoodie into a thin, flowy tee shirt.

When you get up to go change, Wonwoo can see you from your kitchen sink a few feet away and he’s instantly curious as to what you’re up to.

“Where’re you going, love?” he asks from the sink as he continues to scrub the plate in front of him.

“I’m gonna change into something thinner. It’s too warm to be wearing a hoodie right now.” you say as you stop at the entryway of your kitchen to respond to him.

“Why do you need to change for that, though?” he asks, taking his eyes off the plate in front of him to glance at you with his confused eyes.

“I just told you, I’m overheating.” you say, confused as to why he’s confused.

“Can’t you just take it off here?”

You feel heat rush to your face, and you’re now feeling warm from embarrassment.

“Well… I would but…” you trailed off, hoping that you would just disappear or he would drop the subject.

“But…?” Wonwoo asks, having finished washing the dishes and giving you his full attention.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself. Just say it quickly, it’s like ripping a bandaid off. you think to yourself.

In one breath, as quickly as you can, you say, “I would but I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

It takes Wonwoo a second to understand what you said, but when he does, less than ten seconds after the words left your mouth, you’re already in your room with the door closed behind you.

Wonwoo feels his cheeks heat up as he realizes that this entire day, including the past hour plus that the two of you spent together, the only thing separating your top half from the rest of the world was his hoodie. He originally thought you looked so cute drowning in his hoodie and while he still does, this new information changes his entire perception of the time you’ve spent together.

Meanwhile, you were pacing around your room silently screaming at yourself. I can’t believe I just told him that I was both shirtless and braless under his hoodie. Why would I do that? What if he thinks I’m weird? Or worse, what if I made him uncomfortable? 

Letting out a defeated groan, you force yourself to push all these worries out of your head. You decide that you can’t hide in your room forever, mainly because you know Wonwoo would come looking for you at some point. So, you change into a loose fitting shirt, take a deep breath, and step out of your room.

Your eyes immediately search the kitchen to see if Wonwoo is where you left him, but he’s not there anymore. You wander deeper into your apartment and you find Wonwoo sitting on your couch, casually scrolling on his phone. 

You don’t think he notices your presence and based on how calm he looks, you feel hopeful that he either a) forgot the conversation happened or b) didn’t think it was as much of a big deal as you made it out to be in your head. But when you sit on the other end of the couch and Wonwoo drops his phone to the side to look at you with a knowing smirk on his face, you realize that you were so, so, so wrong.

“So, you wanna talk about it?” Wonwoo asks with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you respond, feigning innocence and looking anywhere but your boyfriend sitting a few inches away from you.

“Really? Because I seem to recall you saying that you weren’t wearing anything under my hoodie today.”

Your face flushes for the thousandth time today and you can’t help but feel a little guilty.

“Listen Wonwoo, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier. That wasn’t my intention.” you say, looking into his eyes earnestly.

“Wait, why are you apologizing?” he asks you confused.

“Because it’s obvious that I made you uncomfortable earlier.” 

“Babe, I don’t know why you would think I would feel uncomfortable by it. The only reason I didn’t respond was because I was just a little shocked, that’s all. If anything, it’s kinda hot now that I know that you’ve been walking around with nothing underneath my hoodie.”

Feeling embarrassed by assuming that Wonwoo was uncomfortable and by hearing his true feelings, you grab a throw pillow from your couch and bury your face into it.

“I can’t believe I embarrassed myself in front of you twice in one day.” you mumble into the pillow.

“Hey, this can’t be as embarrassing as when you tripped over Vernon’s bag and ended up spilling your drink on Mingyu’s lap.” Wonwoo says.

“I thought we all agreed to not bring that up anymore.” you whine as you hit him with the pillow in your hands.

“I’m just saying, you’ve done more embarrassing things in your life than telling me you're naked under my hoodie.”

“Wow, thank you so much Wonwoo. I feel so much better about myself.” you say sarcastically.

“Aww, babe I’m sorry.” he says as he reaches for your hands.

“Forget it.” you say, faking annoyance as you get up to go clean off your dining table turned desk.

“Babe.” Wonwoo whines as he rushes behind you and grabs your wrist.

Before you know it, Wonwoo tugs at your wrist pulling you close into his chest. Your breath hitches at the boldness of his actions and you peer up at him through your lashes to see what his next move is.

He removes his hand from your wrist and gently raises your chin so he can look into your eyes.

“I’m sorry babe.” he says.

When you’re about to open your mouth to tell him it’s fine, you’re silenced by his lips on yours. Deciding that you actually had nothing to say, you choose to melt into the kiss instead. 

Once the two of you part for air, you say “I guess you’re forgiven.”

“You don’t sound too confident about your answer.” he says, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Maybe I’m not confident in my answer. What’re you gonna do about it?” you challenge.

“Then let me make it up to you in a different way.” he says as he pulls you into another kiss.

It’s safe to say that you didn’t get any cleaning done for the rest of the day.

—

When you go over to Wonwoo’s place for movie night a few weeks later, Wonwoo is more than happy to see you wearing one of his hoodies you’ve taken from him.

While the two of you are cuddling together on the couch, Wonwoo can’t help but let his curiosity get the best of him. When you’re engrossed in the movie, Wonwoo takes his hand that was resting on your thigh and brings it up to the hem of hoodie loosely covering your frame.

This grabs your attention and you turn to him to look at him with your eyebrows furrowed. But Wonwoo’s eyes are fixed on the screen in front of you and it makes you wonder if you were just imagining things. Deciding that you were just being weird, you turn your attention back to the screen.

When Wonwoo notices that your attention is on the movie again, he takes that as his sign to move his hand again. He slips his hand under the hem of the hoodie and he slowly inches closer and closer to your chest.

Although your eyes were trained on the movie playing in front of you, all of your attention was on Wonwoo’s hand slowly grazing your skin as he made his way up your body. Your breath hitched when you felt his cold hand gently graze your bare breast and you turned to face Wonwoo.

He looked at you with a smirk on his lips and a mischievous glint in his eyes. Something told you that you wouldn’t know how the movie would end.

[bandgie]

All For You | Armageddon Event

Request: Charity | Seo Changbin & Lee Yongbok (SKZ) by anon song!

warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, pussy eating, mxm themes, 3some, double penetration (brief) boobs/nipple play, hair pulling (m!), brief handjob, cum eating (brief)

1.9k words

Dinner is still hot. The smell of cooked meat and kimchi infiltrates your nose. It should make your stomach growl and your mouth salivate. Yet, the reason for your hunger and drooling is not because of dinner at all. It’s the two men, your two lovers, that draw such reactions from you.

It’s quite a juxtaposition to see blonde hair and black hair side-by-side. The tops of their head move concurrently between your legs. You can feel how their tongue mingle and mix while suckling on your clit. Their lips smack and kiss over every inch of your cunt. It makes you arch off the couch just slightly.

“Mmm, just like that.” You intertwine your fingers in their hair. The men hum, vibrating your clit almost like a toy. You let a whimper, bucking your hips from the sensation before their hands grip each hip, putting you back down on the couch.

Felix’s lower half is soaked. You can see how it glistens when he pulls away, letting Changbin take your pussy whole in his mouth. “Just lay still for us.” His deep voice sends shivers throughout your body. “We’ll get you there. There’s no rush.”

You don’t argue with him, nodding obediently. 

Now with more access to you, Changbin doesn’t hold back in sucking you between his lips. He takes your clit into his mouth eagerly, bobbing his head just the slightest while his tongue laps over you.

You can feel how their hold strengthens on your ass as if you might try and grind into the air again, but you manage to keep yourself planted onto the cushions while Changbin pulls on your bundle of nerves.

Instead, you twitch. Your thighs tremble and you tug much harder on Changbin’s hair. 

He lets out a yelp. The pull caused him to pop off your cunt with a wet sound. His unfocused eyes finally settle on you and you babble to apologies. “I-I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, Binnie. It just felt so good and-”

He smiles, his wet chin shining proudly. “It’s okay, bubba. It didn’t hurt, I promise. You can pull as much as you like if it makes you feel better.” 

Felix giggles, runnung his hand through Changbin’s curly hair and looking at him fondly. 

“You’re so cool, hyung.”

Now Changbin blushes, his lips turning downward into his signature shy smile. “Come help your cool hyung eat this pretty pussy, Yongbok.” Felix chuckles again, adjusting his knees until he’s beside Changbin. You watch his pink tongue push through his lips, but just before he gets a lick in, his warm eyes lock with yours.

“Do you want both of us to taste you, baby?” Felix's small fingers kneed your inner thigh. “Is this what you want?”

You’ll take anything they give you and more. Changbin’s plush lips already feel so good on you, his tongue swiping down to collect your arousal and smear it on your clit. It would be hard to get him to share, you think. Changbin likes eating diligently and eagerly licking his plate clean. He’d make some room for Felix if you asked, but you’re quite content with one mouth on your cunt.

Even then, you don’t want to deter Felix from what he wants to do either. “What do you want, Lixie?”

The groan Changbin lets out in your folds matches Felix’s. “Nuh-uh, don’t do that. Tonight’s about you. Not me or Changbin. It’s okay to tell us what you want.”

Tonight has been all about you. The now-cold dinner is your favorite. The homemade brownies in the oven are for you. Since you woke up, your boyfriends have been more doting than ever. Just because, they told you when you asked why.

Just because.

You feel like you don’t deserve them in the slightest, but as Felix patiently waits for your answer while kissing up and down your thigh, you feel like you belong.

The shirt is already ridden up just below the curve of your breasts, but you pull up the material even more to expose your bare chest. You move your hands to grope the flesh of your tits, pushing them together and pinching your nipples between your fingers.

“C-can you kiss me here?” Despite them seeing you naked countless times, you can’t help the stuttering. And despite those amount of times, Felix’s eyes still widen and Changbin sucks a little harder at the sight of your boobs.

Felix is next to you in a flash. His hips press against your own while he curls his legs on the couch. One hand holds your breast and the other wraps behind your back to bring you closer. 

“Of course, baby.” Felix leans his head and brushes his lips against your bud. “I can kiss you anywhere.”

You hum appreciatively, placing your hands down into their hair. Felix is always tender with you, opting to press chaste kisses to your breasts. He focuses everywhere but your hardened nipple. The warmth of his mouth makes you buck into Changbin’s who happily widens his jaw. 

Felix sucks just above the curve of your breast, turning the skin a pretty pink before it will inevitably darken to a purple hue. The way his tongue laps over your skin has you mewling. A soft sound that makes Felix suck a little harder.

Then he kisses down, down until he finally catches your bud between his lips. With circular movements of his head, Felix runs it over his soft lips. It feels so good, so gentle that you feel yourself gush in Changbin’s mouth.

Your strong lover greedily moans. The wet sound of your cunt and mouth mingling is almost as loud as your whimpers. Felix gets the cue to take your nipple in his mouth, opening his jaw to try and fit your breast in his mouth. 

And when he sucks in correspondence with Changbin, your eyes roll back. Your hips can’t stay planted on the couch anymore that your orgasm builds. Changbin’s head moves with you, keeping his mouth stuck where he belongs.

“F-fuck!” You pull on Felix’s long hair. “Making me feel so good.”

You can feel how Felix smiles against your skin. Hear how Changbin whines affectionately.

Pulling on Felix’s hair suddenly doesn’t feel like enough. You trail your hand lower until you catch his erection underneath his sweats.

“Mmm. So hard.” You palm him, feeling how his tongue swirling on your nipple stutters from your ministrations. He releases your bud and places a kiss on the hickey forming.

“You don’t have to do that.” Felix uses a hand to gently push yours away. “We want to focus on you.”

“But-but you’re so hard. You’re both so hard.” Even if you can’t see Changbin’s lower half, you know he’s humping the bottom of the couch from how his body jolts and shudders. “I want to.”

This catches their attention. Even Changbin, who could mostly likely cum from your taste alone, raises an eyebrow and hesitantly pulls from your cunt. “Want to what?

Rather than telling them, you show them. Your shaky fingers leave their hair and go between your legs.

Looping your arms underneath your thighs, you spread your folds indecently. Slick and spit oozes from your cunt and Changbin licks his lips like he’s about to get another taste for himself, but your whining stops him.

“Inside. I wanna feel you inside.” Your hips buck from the thought of them filling you up. “I wanna cum with you deep in here.”

Changbin’s already nodding, standing up to chuck his shorts down, but Felix smoothes a hand down, rubbing over your cunt.

“You’re not just saying that because you feel bad, right?”

“No!” Gosh, you feel like you could cum just from Felix’s little palm over you. “I want to feel you. I need to feel you. Just fuck me.”

His adam’s apple bobs and he nods. He shrugs his joggers off too, putting them in a pile with Changbin’s who’s already stroking himself.

“Who do you want first, baby?” Changbin huffs. “Tell me.”

Shit. You don't want to choose. “Both! I don’t care how. Just please fuck me already.”

It’s quick how they move you. Changbin has the strength to be under you, holding your thighs apart with his cock just under your ass. It throbs being so close to your entrance, waiting for Felix to place one knee on the couch in front of you and bend just slightly so his tip aligns with you.

They’ve done this before, but not often, and most definitely not in the living room. Still, they couldn’t say no to your desperation. That aroused look in your eyes only intensifies as Changbin uses a hand to grip the base of his cock and find your opening.

“Shiiit.” You moan when his head sinks in. Changbin’s girth spreads you in the first intrusion and Felix has a front-row seat as to how your pussy caves for him.

Changbin breathes in your neck, pressing deeper until his chubby cock fits snug. Your walls pulse around him, cream leaking onto his balls. Felix’s eyes lock on the white substance, reaching a hand down to collect the slick.

You watch with hazy eyes and an open mouth as Felix shoves his fingers between your lips. You happily taste the substance, moaning at the musky flavor of yourself and Changbin. Felix presses his digits deep much like Changbin’s cock, pressing against your tongue to feel your tongue swirl around him.

“Fuck, baby.” Felix moans. “You’re so fucking hot.”

A string of saliva connects you to him even as Felix pulls his fingers away. You grin at him seductively.

“And tight.” Changbin groans in the shell of your ear. “Get in here, Yongbok. She’s waiting.”

It feels like you could finish from just pure excitement. Changbin doesn’t need to thrust. You could cockwarm him while Felix watches. Their presence is enough to feel undeniable pleasure.

That exhilaration multiples when Felix strokes himself. He nods to Changbin’s words, mouth moving to agree, but you can’t hear. So much blood is rushing to your head that you feel faint. Your heartbeat pulses in your ear and all you can hear is its increased rhythm as Felix’s tip touches your clit.

He drags it down, meeting Changbin’s few inches that stick out. He gives you a look. One of caution, trust, and love. 

“Please.”

He sinks in. Your lovers don’t have much length, but their cocks have enough girth to make up for it and more. It feels like you’re being clawed with pleasure, searing your insides with heat. Changbin moans in your ear when Felix presses deeper. Your cunt seeps with more arousal, accommodating the unbelievable stretch.

Changbin widens your thighs to add more room, to let Felix keep going in so his pelvis is flush against your cli-

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The sound of the alarm rings throughout the house. Felix jumps and Changbin holds you tighter as if the sound is threatening. It takes you a second to register that the beeping is coming from the kitchen. 

“What the fu-”

“Ughhh, fuck. The brownies.” Felix grumbles. His grip on your thighs adjusts like he’s about to pull out. You feel his inches slowly slip about before you reach your arms forward and bring him close.

“No! Just leave them.”

“Leave them in the oven?”

“Yongbok.” Changbin’s strangled voice breaks through. “I’m balls deep. You were about to be balls deep. The brownies can wait. They need to cool down anyway.”

Felix’s flushed face turns confused. “How can they cool down in the oven if-”

“Felix!” “Yongbok-ah!”

“Sorry.”

[bunniekittiee]

Hi, can i get a domestic bihan x pregnant!reader where she gets restless at night from pregnancy craving? Thank you

Bi-Han x Pregnant Reader

Tossing and turning, kicking the silk sheets off, trying to count sheep, everything she did had not eased her body. A certain craving that could only be satisfied if Bi-Han made it, but the Grandmaster was sound asleep next to her. She felt guilty. He was tired often, and he needed his rest. She didn’t want to wake him up because of her cravings, but they were horrible. Her stomach growled as she gently laid her hand on her bump.

“You are just keeping me up.” She grumbled quietly. She tried to ignore her hunger pains once more, but her stomach only increasingly got louder. And the cravings intensified.

“My firefly,” Bi-Han rasped as he sleepily raised his head. “Are you okay?” His eyes were clouded with tiredness, but he was alert. “You are moving around a lot. Is it the baby?”

“It’s stupid, go back to sleep Bi-Han.” She replied with a little attitude. She didn’t mean to be snappy with him, she was just having horrible cravings that needed to be satisfied at four in the morning.

Bi-Han sat up and moved in front of her, kissing her bump gently as he held her hand. “Tell me what’s on your mind. I can help you.” His eyes were full of love and patience. It warmed her heart.

She sighed. “I have really bad cravings. I haven’t been able to sleep at all because of them.”

He frowned. “Why did you not tell me sooner, my love? It is not good for you to be up all night like this.”

Emotions high, she felt her eyes water with tears and Bi-Han squeezed her hand. “Do not cry, I am not upset. I only wish you would have told me sooner, that is all.” He kissed her forehead. “What is it that you’re craving?”

She mumbled.

“Repeat that again please.”

“Sweet and sour pork with chow mein and fried rice.”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Someone is very hungry I see. Let me go and awaken Kuai Liang and Tomas. They can help me.”

“No, please don’t wake them up for this.” She felt more guilty if he woke them up.

“They would be more than willing to help. They think of you as a sister. Besides, Kuai Liang makes better chow mein than I do.” Bi-Han said as he began to get out of bed.

“You had the courage to admit that?” She asked with a small giggle.

He shot her a look. “Kuai Liang isn’t better than me at much, only at making chow mein. Now you rest, I will begin to cook soon.”

She wanted to follow Bi-Han to the kitchen, but she knew he would only scold her and send her off to bed. He was very protective over her, much more so since she had gotten pregnant with their child. He wanted her to rest and relax as much as possible. Carrying a child was not the easiest thing in the world, and Bi-Han understood that.

The palace was quiet and her curiosity began to wander. She wanted to watch the brothers cook, and her mouth began to water at the thought of her cravings. “Let’s hope your father doesn’t send us back to bed.” She chuckled to herself and her baby as she got up from bed, gently rubbing her bump as she shuffled to the kitchen.

Kuai Liang and Tomas were helping Bi-Han around in the kitchen, walking about and crossing paths with each other to cook a meal this early in the morning. Although it would have been easier to have a servant cook it, nothing tastes close to their cooking. Kuai Liang was very skillful at it.

Bi-Han heard the padding of her feet, his eyebrows furrowed in worry. “You need to be resting, not standing about. Go back to the room.” He started to walk towards her but she stood away.

“I wanted to watch you all cook.” She said softly as Kuai Liang and Tomas smiled at her. They were happy to see Bi-Han settling down, and now he had a child on the way. It was a sweet love story.

Bi-Han sighed. “Okay, just sit down and watch us. Please don’t try to help, we are more than enough.” He returned to chopping up vegetables while Kuai Liang began to fire up the wok. Tomas was rolling out the noodles as quick as possible. They worked fast yet diligently in the early hours of the morning to feed her the cravings that had kept her up all hours of the night.

Just as they were skilled warriors, they were just as skilled at cooking. It was graceful the way they moved around and completed their tasks. They were like figure skaters gliding across ice as they maneuvered around each other. Bi-Han would glance up every once in a while to make sure his wife was okay. Every time he looked, she was in this dreamy state that only made him want to complete the meal quicker. He was a little upset that she waited so long in feeding her cravings. He always told her to tell him what she needed. Bi-Han was ready to do absolutely anything for her and their child.

“You poor thing,” Tomas told her. “You stayed up all night because of your cravings?”

She nodded. “Yes, I did. The baby was really bothersome.” She gently laid a hand on her bump. “Hopefully this will calm them down.”

Kuai Liang chuckled. “They are quite the warrior for pestering you so much. It goes to show that they will be very strong.”

“Well, they are Bi-Han’s child.” She giggled.

The Grandmaster only huffed while his brothers laughed quietly. It was quiet once more, the only sounds being the sizzling of the wok and Tomas continuing his task of rolling noodles. They all looked tired yet they were focused on their individual tasks.

Eventually, the food was nearing its completion. The smells made her stomach growl louder which made Bi-Han smile for a second. She was a little embarrassed, but she flashed a nervous smile at Bi-Han. He couldn’t help but look at his wife. His beautiful wife who was carrying his child. Their child. Although he was a little apprehensive, he knew he could adjust to fatherhood and be a good dad. Better than his own father, that was for sure.

Kuai Liang plated the food after he knew it was completely done, filling up her plate full so she could enjoy as much as she wanted to. “Breakfast, or rather, late night snack is served.” He joked as he set the plate down in front of her. Her mouth watered. It looked so good.

“Thank you so much. You all should have some too. I can’t eat all of it.” She felt bad if they did not eat either.

The brothers exchanged small glances and decided to eat small plates. Why not? It wouldn’t hurt to enjoy the meal with each other. They sat in a comfortable silence as they ate quietly. The tummy grumbles soon began to go away as she stuffed herself. Bi-Han watched her carefully to make sure she didn’t choke. He was always paranoid that she would hurt herself, he could not help it.

Once their ‘breakfast’ was finished, Bi-Han shooed her off to bed while he and his brothers cleaned up. She felt her sleepiness creep up on her as she laid down, her belly full and the baby at rest once more in her tummy. Closing her eyes, she finally entered her dream state that she had been longing for.

Bi-Han entered their room to get ready for his day and his eyes laid upon her sleeping form. He kissed her forehead softly, watching her sleep so peacefully. He would do this a thousand times over if it meant that could be at peace within her body.

[zolawffy]

Luffys prettygirl - for winning the valentines day voting!

SMUTTTTTT BELOW

After getting separated from luffy for so long, you missed him. You couldn’t believe it was your captain who’s behind those doors. You woke up to the mere sound of his raspy voice. He was returning from whole cake island. You were quite jealous that nami went instead of you, but you knew she would be more beneficial. You jumped out of bed at the sound of his laughing and swiftly kicked through the door. “Luffy!” You shouted before tackling your captain. You were too busy laughing and giggling to notice he was on top of you snickering. “Hey Y/n, missed ya’” he cheesed. Your giggling faded as you looked up into his gleaming eyes. “I got your note luffy, and yes ill be your valentine!” The crew mates gathered around the table just stood there complaining about getting a room. After a while you guys decide to go in your hotel room to give him his gift and catch up. “And there were all these sweets everywhere and it was super good!” He laughed. As Luffy's laughter filled the room, you couldn't help but notice how close he was, his body pressed against yours as you cuddled together on the edge of the bed. “But they weren’t as half good as you.” He said smashing his lips against the skin behind your ear and licking it. “Mmh, lu-ffy!” You whimper softly. “Thank you for the gifts. Y/N, i wanna eat.” He said moving from beside you, to on-top. He ran his cold fingers up your plush thighs. “Luffy what are you—“ “I said i wanna eat.” You looked up into his eyes, now filled with determination and lust. How? He was just playful a few moments ago. Your heart pounded in your chest as luffys playful demeanor shifted. His eyes were darkening with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine. His touch, that was light and playful, is now heavy with intent as his finger trailed along your warm skin with his cold fingers, leaving goosebumps. “Luffy..” you began, your voice barely a whisper but he silenced you quick with a hungry, sloppy kiss as he cupped your face in large hands. “Let me eat you, pretty please, pretty?” You gave him the go as he pushed your thighs up before ripping the hell out of your bottoms. “Luffy! Those were expensive!” You felt his hot and quickened breaths against your clit as he spoke, “m’sorry baby, couldn’t wait.” You began to speak in protest but he cut you off with his lips and tongue going to work. You tugged on his hair as your legs began to tremble. He put his thick fingers inside of your warmth. “So so good, wan’ s’more..” “fuck luffy-!” You cries out, but barely audible over the sound of the slurping and sweet squelching. “Cmon’ its gonna be so good baby, so good!” He laughed into your heat. He felt you tightening around his fingers. “Mhhhhhmmm.” He hummed into your core, sending intense vibrations. With that, you came undone on his finger and tongue. Youre snapped back into reality as you hear loud slurping noises from between your legs. “That was delicious!” He laughed, wiping your juices from his face. He cleaned the ring around his fingers with his tongue before kissing you. “Did you have to rip my clothes through, lu? “Sure did!” He smiled breaking the kiss.

Happy valentines day babe!

[undercoveravenger]

In Your Arms

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Male Reader

Requested: Yes

Request(s): “I heard you wanted HungerGames and came running 🏃‍♀️ Alright so it’s after the book series and Finnick and reader are finally living the life they want and obviously Finnick is alive and well because fuck that he deserved so much better. Finnick isn’t on his capital diet and he has a little fat on his body and reader loves it and always touches it but Finnick gets insecure because he thinks reader hates it.” + “Can I request a finnick x male reader with angst and comfort where they comfort each other after the quarter quell?” 

A/N: Combining these two requests since they seemed like they could fit together well

—--

For the first time since the revolution, Finnick wakes up alone. He is cold - the damp sand at his back has long since lost its warmth - and freezing water laps at his legs as he jolts upright. His first instinct is that he’s back in the Arena - that something, someone, is coming after him. He scrambles to his feet, sand sucking his feet down in a way that feels claustrophobic rather than the way it normally grounds him and the cold rain plasters his hair to his face.

Thunder booms in the distance, the sound echoing the canons that haunt his nightmares and sending him further into his panic. He’s jerky, out of practice in a way that he can normally take comfort in but now only serves to make him feel all the more on edge. He could see shadows flickering in his peripherals, tree branches and whispering grasses coalescing into hunters, other tributes just out of sight and beyond his perception though just close enough for him to feel like a fish being hunted by a heron.

As he struggles to regain his balance he realizes that he is alone, the indent you had left in the sand beside him long abandoned. His heart stops in his chest, feeling suddenly like he’s had the air kicked out of him - if you were gone, did that mean you were…? No. No, you couldn’t be. If you were dead-

“Finn?” Your voice snaps Finnick out of his spiral almost instantly and he whirls to face you, a massive smile breaking across his lips as he stumbles up the beach toward you. 

“Where were you?” He gasps, tucking his head into your shoulder as he throws himself into your arms, unable to even pretend to care as he knocks whatever you’d been carrying out of your grasp.

His nerves start to settle as you clutch him close to your chest, arms curled tight around him. “I’m sorry,” the words rush out of you quickly as you realize what he must’ve been thinking, “I’m sorry Finnick. I woke up and it looked like you were cold so I went to get blankets from the cabin. I meant to be back before you woke up and then it started raining and it took me longer to get back-” You trailed off as you took in his state, pulling back just far enough to look at him, “God, you’re freezing. C’mon, Finn, let’s get you home and warmed up before you get sick. I’ll come back for the blankets later, when it’s not raining.”

Finnick allows himself to be tugged along after you, stumbling over the slight hills in the sand as he follows you back to your shared cabin at the other end of the cove. He’s still a little out of it as the front door swings shut behind the two of you, but he has enough presence of mind to toe off his shoes and follow you into your bedroom. 

“C’mon love,” you say, digging through his dresser to find him some dry pajamas. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”

He blanches at that, suddenly far too aware of the way he’d changed since the Games. His wet clothes clung to him, sticky with water and plastered to the soft stomach and curves that’d formed in the years after the Hunger Games had been ended. He knew that you liked knowing he was comfortable and felt safe enough to relax, but he couldn’t help but feel less worthy of the attention, especially with the way he had been treated in the years between his Games and the Quarter Quell. He eventually follows your request, tugging off his soaked shirt and holding it in front of his chest and stomach subconsciously.

You turn back, eyes narrowing as you notice his defensive body language. “You okay, Finn? You seem… tense. Is it still the nightmare?” 

He shakes his head, slowly forcing himself to approach you, dropping his shirt as he gets close. “‘M’okay.”

You step toward him, cupping his face in your hands fondly. “Sweetheart, I’m here for you. You know I love you, right? And whatever you’re dealing with, I’m here to support you.”

Finnick hesitates, but presses into your palms and closes his eyes after a moment. “I don’t feel strong enough for you anymore.” He can feel the way your hands start to shake where he rests against him and he knows that you must be heartbroken to hear what he had been thinking. “I just- I don’t know if I could protect you if something happened and I don't look-” his voice breaks a little as he voices his insecurity.

You interrupt him with a fond eye roll and a tender kiss, “You look like the love of my life,” you murmur quietly, pressing soft kisses across his cheeks and forehead. “And I love that you are safe and don’t need to be fighting ready unless you want to be. I love who you are, Finn, not just how you look and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you if that’s what it takes for you to know it.”

Finnick feels like crying - to have gone from being treated as little more than a toy for strangers’ pleasure to being so wholly loved in just a few short years was a little overwhelming to think about, but he knows that he couldn’t be happier if he were anywhere else and he wouldn’t want to be. He is more than happy to be here, safe and loved and willing to carve out a new place for himself in the world with you. He knows that there is nowhere he would rather be than in your arms.

[drdemonprince]

When other people say that they do not have enough time to get something done, they (often, if they're quite healthy) mean they are taking into account the time it takes to do the laundry and arrange new pieces of furniture and cook dinner and meet up with friends to see a movie and run to the post office or the hair dresser and take the dog for walks and do the dishes and paint their nails and drive to the store and go to their cousin's wedding and go to the barbecue their friend is throwing on the weekend

they don't winnow their life down to just spending time at the computer, working from when they wake up until they cannot focus their eyes anymore, granola bars, coffee, and bottles of water all around them because of course they did not take time to have lunch or breakfast, only dragging themselves away from work when they are truly too exhausted to do any of it anymore, and then lacking the energy to do much of anything that remains of life but to eat a tiny bit more, sponge themselves off, and go to sleep.

i just saw a video of a fursuiter on their bed, legs kicked back, head propped on their hands, delightedly announcing that after many years of hard work they had finally finished their Master's degree. And some part of me, some sick withered part, thought really? you had time to do a Master's degree while also getting a fursuit done? and going to conventions, presumably? you had time in the day to research fursuit makers, have a sona designed and drawn by someone else (or to draw it yourself), to contact a maker to make a duck tape dummy of yourself, and to have a friend over to help you make it and to cut it off of you, to send it in the mail to the maker, to then get it and make videos? you had time to set up this beautiful bedroom that i see in your video, with a soft pink sham on the bed and LED lights behind your bookshelf and lamps and all kinds of stuffed toys? you had a life? you were out playing, and dancing, and pursuing your hobbies, and you did a master's degree?

because when i was working on my doctorate, there was nothing. three layers of foam on the floor with a fitted sheet over it. a folding card table from aldi that had cost $40 that my grandparents got me. no food in the fridge. no time to even get the internet installed, just stolen wi-fi when my laptop could pick it up. i woke up, got dressed, and slunk into the office. i sat alone in the dark working until my hunger made me furious and i could not write another word. and then i walked to the grocery store, got something to subsist on, went home, ate, kickboxing video, went to sleep. every day. with almost nothing breaking the routine.

and ive gotten better, so much better, but my brain still kind of works that way. i feel like i have to quit my job and stop being a writer if i want to have hobbies. to paint my bedroom. to marinate a meat for longer than fifteen minutes. to get a driver's license again. to take a trip. but i dont want to be like that any more. how do people know when to stop? i feel like i have to give everything my absolute all until there is nothing left or else i have done nothing. i feel that i would have to treat a hobby like a job to get it done. I feel that anything that takes more than two minutes is a huge waste of time i must feel guilty for. i am working on all these things. jesus i have been working on them for years at this point. but because i have been so successful at telling people to do less, i get pulled in. interview. workshop invitation. email. urgent in the subject line. call from my agent. meeting request from my boss. new book idea, better sell it now while my sales figures still look good. recording studio session. deadline. writing. can you talk about this. can you talk about that. tag. email. book idea. deadline. long heartfelt email. still so often i have to take my own damn advice.

and this is why i am getting a fursuit made!! and going to cons! and going to leather and latex events! and making socials that are separate for these things!! i am going to let myself be silly and soft and do frivolous things. i am so sick of what i do to myself, all the pursuit of seeming like a strong mature adult.

[stveeharrington]

dating peter parker hcs

nsfw! as well as fluff! • fem!reader

✲— peter who brings you flowers when you feel sick or on your period

✲— peter who helps you with homework

✲— peter who swings you anywhere you want at what ever time

✲— peter who texts you messages like this (I am to lazy to make a whole message thing)

Peter 💖

————————————————————————

peter 💖: HIIIIISKSJSJSKZJX

:hi peter

peter 💖:omg

peter 💖: what did I do

peter 💖: did I do something

peter 💖: I’m sorry if I did and ilysm ur the best thing that ever happened to me mwah

:Pete I js woke up I am not. trying to write in caps babe ilym tho

peter 💖: oh

peter 💖: okayyyyyy :)))))

-

✲— peter who sends random shit like

-

peter 💖: I miss u and your boobs

:PETER???

peter 💖:

:oh!

peter 💖: Open the door please I’m so hard it hurts

-

✲— peter who lovesssssss showing you off at anytime half of his instagram post are just you

✲— peter who begs to play Roblox with you and then rages if he gets killed

✲— peter who watch’s all the hunger games movies with you and then says josh hutcherson is his man crush

✲— peter who lovesssssss Taylor swift

✲— peter who lets you help make his webs

nsfw!!

✲— peter who sends you pictures of his dick when he is hard and the message attached is “miss you!! ☺️💕”

✲— peter who presses his hard on your ass and whispers the nasty things ever

✲— peter who begs to eat u out

✲— peter who fingers you infront of a mirror while u re read him ur study guide

✲— peter who fucks hard leaving you speechless and beg for more

✲— peter who calls you mamas only during sex

✲— peter who whispers sweet nothings into your ear even though he is literally destroying you like

- “so beautiful baby so beautiful”

- “like that? talk to me mamas”

-“pussy holding me so tight fuckk”

✲— peter who texts you the most randomness text about how much he wants to fuck you

Peter 💖

—————————————————————————

peter 💖: baby please come over I need to fuck you so bad

peter 💖: *dick pic* baby I’m so hard please mamas

peter 💖: wanna fuck you so bad beautiful

: almost there baby give me 5 minutes

peter 💖: okay baby see you soonn

-

✲— peter who can literally go as many times as he wants which is the best thing ever

✲— peter who literally makes out with you while you moan his name into his mouth

✲— peter who fucks you in the spidey suit because you said it was hot once

© stevveharrinton ✧— do not repost / copy / translate any of my works c:

[fayesia]

Hiiiii, how are you today? I hope you're well and safe. I had an idea for mike I hope you don't mind. Imagine him being jealous of his own baby being breastfeed. Love your stories ❤

a/n: hello!! i’m doing very good, i hope the same things for u too:D i’m very happy to hear u enjoy my writing. Also i never expected my blog to contain things mostly abt mike schmidt but here we r, remember to send me any request (i’m trying to improve my smut writing so those types would be helpful but fluff is also fine!) and i will try get to them asap. hoping to be a lot better at this stuff once my holidays start in a week. ty for all the love so far, appreciating every single one of u beautiful individuals interacting w my account <3

fyi: this blurb will contain insinuations of sub!mikeschmidt, lactation kink, breeding kink (quick mention) baby will be referred to as “she” but rly whichever gender u prefer!!

You had finally finished putting your sweet baby to rest, as much as you loved the little bundle of joy, it was difficult for you both mentally and physically to keep up with the needs of her. finally having some peace and quiet you rested on the couch laying your head against Mikes shoulder while he gently rubbed your back knowing the aches you felt there. soft moans left your mouth as the feeling of relief swarmed through you, Mikes lips gliding across the skin of your neck, whispers of how beautiful and amazing of a mother you are reached your ears while you drifted into a peaceful rest.

This rest however, didn’t last long as you were soon awoken by your baby’s cries, Mike was fast asleep so you quietly padded your way to her rooms rocking her as you returned to the couch and began to breastfeed her. Mike woke up soon after silently watching you, later taking the baby to put back to sleep while you cleaned up.

“she didn’t drink enough, i don’t think she cried from hunger, god i’m so sore”

“it’s ok come here honey relax for me” Mike took your hands leading you back to the couch where he cuddled with you. He kissed your cheeks, lips and neck, hands moved to pull off your shirt. his kisses drew nearer to your sore breast where he latched onto a nipple.

He started sucking, moaning as your sweet milk filled his mouth, the liquid was like ambrosia to him, it got him more drunk than any alcohol. His ferocious sucking at your nipple was soothed by his tongue that lapped at any mess left over.

“god, don’t ever want you to stop producing milk, might just fuck a baby into you and get you pregnant all over again. Bet you’d want that huh?”

he exclaimed profanity’s while his hips thrusted against the side of your thigh where you felt a very hard erection forming.

“hmmm” you could barely respond, his actions against your leaking tits had you completely silenced, the only noise coming from you were quiet moans and pants as the area between your thighs became increasingly wetter. Mikes talk about impregnating you did nothing to cease the sensations, simply making your underwear even more soaked.

[dontyouworrydaddy]

Our 141 boys, Konig and Los Vaqueros with a so who likes to mercilessly tease them all the time. She's a minx, proud of it and she loves seeing her man loose his stoicism whenever she's up to her shenanigans. Thanksies 😁

Say yes to me

Task force 141 (+ König & Los Vaqueros) x Reader

YES. I‘VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR A WHILE NOW AND LET ME TELL YOU… I HAVEN’T BEEN THE SAME EVER SINCE. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING ME THIS😭😭🫶🏽

KÖNIG

König exuded an aura of power and authority. His every move was calculated and precise, leaving no room for any mistakes. However, there was something about you that sparked a mischievous fire within. You couldn't help but take pleasure in teasing him and pushing his boundaries if only for a moment. Because today you woke up and chose violance.

"Ah, König," you purred, sidling up to him, your voice dripping with seduction. "You know, I can't resist the urge to play with fire. And you, my dear, are the most sexiest flame I‘ve ever laid my eyes on."

His gaze flickered towards you, a mixture of annoyance and curiosity dancing in his eyes. You could see the battle within him, torn between maintaining his composure and succumbing to the allure of your teasing. Oh how you loved to test his limits. Especially because you know how easily he gets shy.

You leaned in closer, your breath ghosting over his ear, sending shivers down his spine. "Tell me, darling, does it make you feel alive when I unravel your control? When I peel away those layers of proud until there's nothing left but desire?"

A barely perceptible shudder coursed through his body, his defenses weakening under your seducing influence. You reveled in the power you held over him, relishing every moment of his unraveling.

"Damn you, liebling" he growled, his voice laced with equal parts frustration and desire. "You take pleasure in torturing me, don't you?"

A wicked smile graced your lips as you pressed yourself against him, feeling the heat emanating from his body. "Oh baby, torturing you is a pastime I indulge in with great delight. After all, it's when you lose control that I find you truly exciting."

Your words hung in the air, charged with an electric tension. You watched as he struggled to maintain his composure, his hands twitching by his sides, desperate to touch you but resisting the urge. The battle between his desire and self-restraint played out before you. You can see him struggling.

But you were not one to let the game end so quickly. With a grin, you trailed a finger along his covered jawline, relishing the way his breath hitched at your touch. "Tell me, my love, how badly do you want me? How far are you willing to go to sate this burning hunger that consumes us both?"

König's resolve finally crumbled, his ironclad control slipping away. With a fierce determination he pulled you into his embrace, his lips claiming yours with a passion that ignited the very core of your being. In that moment you felt like nothing mattered anymore.

As the world around you faded into insignificance, consumed by the fire of your desires, you reveled in the knowledge that you, and only you, had the power to unravel the unshakable König.

No mission or obstacle could ever compare to the intoxicating game of desire you played with König. Two souls forever entwined in a dance of passion, power and a never ending affection.

Simon Riley

From the moment you laid eyes on Simon, you knew he was a man who craved control, both on and off the battlefield. His perfectly tailored suit, darkened mask, and piercing eyes exuded an air of mystery and command. But oh, how you loved to unravel him just to see that stoicism falter and his walls crumble under your relentless teasing.

You reveled in the power you held over him. Whenever you were near, mischief danced in your eyes, and a playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

As the two of you found yourselves alone in the dimly lit safehouse, you couldn't resist the opportunity to test the limits of his control. You sauntered over, your steps deliberately slow and seductive, making sure every movement drew his attention. Your fingertips brushed against his arm, a light touch that sent a jolt of electricity through both of you.

"Hey there, handsome," you purred, your voice laced with a teasing tone. "Have I ever told you how much I enjoy seeing you hold things so tightly? Reminds me of some things…"

Simon's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he fought to maintain his composure. "You know what you’re doing to me, don't you?" he growled, his voice heavy with desire and frustration. "You're a temptress, a very needy woman and you take delight in making me lose control."

You feigned innocence, tilting your head to the side and batting your eyelashes innocently. "Me? A temptress and needy? Well, I suppose I can't help it if I bring out the best in you, darling."

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned in, his voice a barley a whisper. "Oh, you have no idea what you do to me. The way you tease, the way you challenge me…it's exhilarating and infuriating all at once. Luckily we can go home sooner than planned. Because I am almost done here."

A mischievous glint danced in your eyes as you closed the remaining distance between you, your lips barely brushing against his ear as you whispered, "But that's the best part, my dear. Watching you, get nervous whenever I touch you in a different way. It's intoxicating."

Simon's grip tightened on your waist, his eyes darkening with raw desire. His voice was a low growl as he admitted defeat, surrendering to the power you held over him. "You win, you always do. But know this, my love, I wouldn't have it any other way. Now focus because I wanna ride home as soon as I can."

A triumphant smile curved your lips as you pressed a soft kiss against his jawline. "Oh Simon, you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into. But don't worry, I promise it'll be the most thrilling ride of your life."

“Fuck, love. Stop saying stuff like that because I am really holding back from bending you over this table right now” he growls and smile at him innocently. You slowly let your hand walk down his pants and let it sit there for a few seconds.

“Very professional.” you whisper and walk away from him, leaving him unfocused and hard.

John MacTavish

As John settled onto the bed, you couldn't help but smirk mischievously, knowing exactly how to push his buttons. The dimly lit room created an intimate ambiance, heightening the allure of your playful banter. John's strong, impassive had always intrigued you but it was your knack for merciless teasing that brought out the vulnerability in him, a side reserved only for you.

Sitting beside him, you leaned back, your fingertips tracing invisible patterns on the sheets. You directed your gaze at John, your eyes brimming with something evil. With a knowing grin, you tilted your head slightly, your voice filled with tantalizing allure.

"So, how's that heart of steel holding up today? I must say, it's quite entertaining to watch you get nervous around me."

John's brows furrowed ever so slightly, his piercing gaze meeting yours. The corners of his lips twitched, betraying the hint of a smile. He couldn't resist your playful taunts and you reveled in the power it gave you over him.

"You," he replied, his voice deep and gravelly, "Are a dangerous creature that takes pleasure in seeing me lose all my senses."

You chuckled softly, a seductive melody that danced through the air. Closing the distance between you, your thigh brushed against his, sending a jolt of electricity through both of you. The heat between you grew palpable, crackling with an undeniable tension.

With a flick of your hair and a sultry gaze, you leaned closer, your lips grazing his earlobe. "But admit it baby, you love every moment of it. You secretly crave the way I toy with your emotions, unraveling the seemingly impenetrable fortress around your heart."

John's breath hitched, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly as he swallowed hard. You could see the fire in his eyes, a reflection of the desire that burned within him. But he remained resolute, determined to maintain his composure, even as you tested the limits of his selfcontrol.

Your fingertips danced along his jawline, tracing the rough contours with gentle strokes. "You know," you whispered, your voice laced with velvet, "there's something undeniably exhilarating about watching the mighty John MacTavish succumb to my wiles."

A low rumble resonated from deep within John's chest, a mixture of frustration and longing. His hand trembled slightly as he reached out to grasp throat, making sure to show you what you’re doing to him. His touch was warm and soft, not meaning to hurt you in a harmful way.

"Believe me, I wouldn't have it any other way," John confessed, his voice husky with desire. "For you, I would willingly relinquish all control, just to witness that spark ignite in your eyes."

You grinned, your eyes shimmering with satisfaction. The world faded away, leaving only the two of you entangled in an emotional state of desire, lust and affection.

John Price

John leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the computer screen as he scanned through mission reports. The silence was broken only by the tapping of the keyboard.

Across the room, you lounged in your own chair. You loved teasing John, pushing his boundaries and seeing him break his manners.

With a smile, you leaned forward, resting your chin on your palm and watched as he furrowed his brow, clearly engrossed in his work. You couldn't resist the urge to provoke him. Clearing your throat, you let out a low and seductive voice.

"You" your voice dripping with playful mischief, "seem awfully serious today, John. Maybe you need a little distraction?"

John's eyes flicked up from the screen, meeting your gaze. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but he maintained his composure. "I'm in the middle of something important, love. Maybe later."

You let out a soft chuckle, knowing exactly how to push his buttons. Leaning back in your chair, you crossed your legs, deliberately drawing his attention to your playful display. You reveled in the power you had over him, the way he couldn't help but steal glances in your direction.

"Oh, I see," you responded while biting your lower lip. Your voice laced with disappointment. "Too busy saving the world to enjoy a little company, huh? Well, maybe I'll just have to entertain myself then."

As you spoke, you began to slowly run a finger along the edge of your exposed thigh, deliberately tracing the path along your skin. You watched as John's jaw tightened ever so slightly, a subtle sign that your little game was starting to have an effect.

Unable to resist, he finally tore his gaze away from the computer screen, his eyes fixated on your movements. The air in the room seemed to crackle with tension as you locked eyes, both of you acutely aware of the electricity between you.

"You're playing with fire, love," John warned, his voice husky with a mixture of desire and restraint. "You know what happens when you tease me like this."

Your lips curled into a mischievous smile. "Oh, I know exactly what happens." your voice dropping to a low whisper. "But I also know how much you love it when I push your buttons."

With that, you slowly rose from your chair, the silence in the room now heavy with anticipation. John's eyes followed your every movement, a mixture of desire and frustration evident in his gaze. The tension between you was unbelievable as you slowly made your way towards him, your fingers gently tracing a path along his jawline.

"And what happens," you whispered, your voice barely audible "when you say yes to me?"

John lets a low growl escaping his lips as he pulled you closer, his hands gripping your waist. "You’re gonna find out now"

The work didn’t matter anymore because in that moment he slowly bends you over his table and he gets on both of his knees while his face is dangerously close to your heating clit.

Kyle Garrick

"You," you began your sentence "have the most adorable scowl when you're deep in thought, Kyle."

He glanced at you, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You find my scowls adorable now? I thought you were here to tease me mercilessly."

A playful grin spread across your face as you leaned closer, tracing a finger along the edge of his jawline. "Oh I am. But teasing you is so much more fun when I get to see you loose yourself. Even if it's just for a moment."

He let out a soft chuckle, his eyes glimmering with a mixture of amusement and affection. "I should have known I couldn't hide anything from you."

You shrugged, your fingers now trailing lazily down his neck. "It's not my fault you wear your emotions on your sleeve when I'm around. Besides, it's one of the things I love about you."

Kyle's expression softened, his hand reaching out to gently grasp yours. "And I love that cute sparkle in your eyes and the way you challenge me. Always keeping me on my toes."

A devilish smirk played on your lips as you tilted your head, your voice dripping with playful taunting. "Well, I can't help it if I enjoy watching you go weak, my dear. Especially when you’re under me…"

He leaned in closer, his voice barely a whisper. "Is that so? Well, let's see how you handle it when the tables are turned."

Before you could react, Kyle swiftly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. You gasped in surprise, feeling a rush of heat spreading through your body as his lips found the sensitive spot on your neck.

Your breath hitched, and you fought to maintain your composure. "Touché, Kyle," you managed to utter, your voice laced with a mix of desire and determination. "But don't think this means I'm going to surrender so easily."

He chuckled against your skin, his hands sliding up your sides in a tantalizingly slow manner. "Yeah let’s see, my lady."

Alejandro

The sun shone brightly on the expansive garden as you lounged by the pool, basking in the warm embrace of a lazy summer afternoon. Alejandro, your way too hot boyfriend, joined you, his chiseled form gliding through the water. As he emerged, droplets cascading off his toned body, you couldn't resist but to unleash your nature upon him.

With a playful smirk on your lips, you eyed Alejandro intently. Your gaze lingered on the way his wet hair clung to his forehead, accentuating the sharp angles of his face. Your heart fluttered at the sight, fueling your determination to tease him relentlessly.

"Alejandro, Alejandro. If only you knew what you got yourself into"

His brows furrowed, but in a good way. He knew all too well what you were telling him with that devilish persona. It was your desire speaking and he knew it.

As you rose from your seat, the pool's edge became your stage. Your every movement exuded confidence and allure as you swayed your hips, the delicate fabric of your bikini accentuating your curves. Alejandro's gaze followed your every motion, a mixture of love, lust and fascination in his eyes.

"The woman you are, mi amora," he said, a trace of admiration lacing his words. "Si supieras lo que me gustaría hacerte, mi amora."

You chuckled softly, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh, Alejandro… I think you forgot that I don’t understand spanish. But I love you talking to me in spanish."

Alejandro's attention was fixated on you, his gaze tracing the lines of your body. Slowly, you descended into the water, allowing the cool embrace to envelop you. The playful splashes that followed were deliberate, intended to draw Alejandro closer.

As he approached, you moved with the grace of a siren, closing the distance between you. Water droplets clung to your skin, glistening like tiny diamonds and you reveled in the effect it had on him. Alejandro's touch was firm yet gentle as he pulled you close, the warmth of his body electrifying against your own.

"I didn’t even start and you’re already weak" you whispered, your lips grazing his earlobe. The tingling sensation it elicited sent shivers down his spine.

"Es tu apariencia. Cariño, ¿cómo se supone que no voy a estar nervioso cuando me miras así?" he whispers something in spanish which you will never understand. But your smirk grew wide as you let your hands go down into the water…

(MY SPANISH IS DEFINITELY NOT GOOD SO PLEASE DON‘T JUDGE. LOVE YAAA)

Rudy

You lay in bed, the soft sheets enveloping your body as you watch Rudy, lying beside you. A playful grin dances across your lips as you plan your next move. You love teasing him, seeing his composure crumble under your charm.

"You are far too serious for your own good." Your fingers trace delicate patterns on his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. The rise and fall of his breath betrays his calm exterior, and you revel in the knowledge that you have the power to rattle him.

Rudy's eyebrows furrow slightly, his eyes fixed on your face as he tries to maintain his unflappable facade. But you know him better than that. You know the effect you have on him. Your playful antics never fail to get a reaction.

Leaning closer, your lips brush against his ear, your breath warm and tantalizing. "Tell me, Rudy…" you whisper, the timbre of your voice causing a shiver to run down his spine, "how long do you think you can keep up this tough guy act?"

His jaw tightens, his control waning as your words weave their way through his defenses. You relish in the power dynamics between you, loving the way he fights to keep his emotions in check, even as desire flickers in his eyes.

Your fingertips trail down his chest, tracing the lines of his defined muscles. You feel his body react, betraying the effect your teasing has on him. But you're not finished. Yet.

With a smirk, you lean back, your gaze filled with inappropriate thoughts. "I know how much you love being in control, Rudy." you tease, emphasizing his name to emphasize the intimate connection between you. "But sometimes, losing control can be good, don't you think?"

Rudy's lips part slightly, his breath catching in his throat as your words seep into his core. The cute soldier is at your mercy. The tables have turned, and you revel in the role reversal. The victory is yours.

Your hand glides lower, grazing the waistband of his boxers. "What would you do…" you murmur, your voice husky, "if I were to take control right now, Rudy?" The intensity in your eyes locks with his and for a moment, the world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you in this intimate moment.

A spark ignites within him, an unspoken desire mirrored in his gaze. The games you play have awakened a side of him he thought long buried, and now, he craves the wild you.

The battle lines blur as he surrenders to the temptation. A hint of a smile curling on his lips. "You" he murmurs, his voice laced with a mix of defiance and desire. "Have always been my weakness"

[lupeloto]

“just for you” ficlet

hi okay so i had an anon send in a hc about this situation and i loved it so much so i wrote a little ficlet about it! enjoy them being nasty (if u saw this yesterday no u didn’t, i changed some things hehe)

— — — —

“that’s bullshit and you know it,” ian grunts, yanking the front door open with a fury.

“the fuck it is!” mickey shouts back, stomping through the living room with exasperated mumbles, “need a beer.”

“great, just do me a favor and drink your three six-packs away from me,” ian spits, a flippancy in his voice that only mickey brings out in him.

mickey purses his lips, squints his eyes, and flips ian the middle finger before angrily taking a swig of his old style, “gladly.”

he heads over to the couch, outwardly faking indifference about the situation while quietly cursing himself for letting ian and himself get so worked up over practically nothing. he’s not even sure he can recall what started it in the first place.

he angrily tears his shoes off, popping them on the ground before laying back in the couch and flipping through the channels. he mindlessly stares for about an hour, drifting to sleep before hearing a knock on the door. he ignores it, spitefully waiting for ian to come clamoring down the stairs with mumbles of how lazy he is. he’s still pissed about earlier; ian having picked a fight out of seemingly nowhere just because he woke up crabby. the knock turns to a bang. mickey sighs, mumbling varities of fuck this, fuck that as he begrudgingly makes his way to the door with significantly pronounced stomps just loud enough in hopes that ian will hear.

he vigorously yanks the door open, prepared to spit a quick “can i fuckin’ help you?” before he catches sight of those dewy green eyes and goofy smile.

“the fuck?” mickey whispers before ian pulls his hand out from behind his back. he reveals a bouquet of wilted white roses that look as if they could talk, they would be begging to be put out of their misery.

“climbed out the window,” he flashes a bashful grin, “this is all they had at the store,” he gives a sad smile towards the roses and then back up to his husband.

“i’m sorry,” he says sincerely, a tinge of shame plaguing his voice as those green eyes go soft. “go to dinner with me?”

mickey takes in the sight, his heart doing backflips in his chest, “jesus christ,” he stares down with a wide grin.

“those flowers look like shit.” he says plainly. ian gives him a shrug, clearly fighting a smile.

“‘m sorry too,” mickey steps aside as ian meets him in the doorway.

“you’re a sappy asshole, ya know that?”

“just for you,” ian smirks, abandoning the flowers and grabbing mickey by the waist to meet their lips. he pulls back, bringing his freckled hands up to cup mickey’s jaw. he runs his thumb along mickey’s cheek, tracing his nose and under his eyes. mickey blinks slowly, leaning into the touch as his eyes flutter shut.

“wow,” ian whispers as he scans his husband’s face, getting lost in soft blue eyes and dusting of light freckles across porcelain skin.

mickey leans in, devouring ian with a hunger before ian pulls away and slows the movement. “dinner after?” he huffs through slow kisses down mickey’s neck.

mickey’s head leans back, “dinner after,” he says through hiccuped breaths. they take their time up the stairs, giggling between kisses as they stumble all over the place; door wide open and wilted white rose petals scattered across the floor.

[kit-kat-katie]

Morning, Sunshine

A/N: Apologies for disappearing for two and a half months - life has been pretty chaotic and I’ve just been along for the ride as of late. I’m done writing for the Hunger Games for a bit - I have a small reaction idea for Obey Me plus I’m going to be ambitious and try to write something for Ryujin before the Itzy comeback, but we’ll see how far that ambition gets me. If you’re interested in a part two, however, send an ask or let me know in a reblog and I’ll happily move it up on my priority list.

TW: Ends on a cliffhanger, reader’s got some literal nerves and a serious case of obliviousness, canon-typical politics

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader (platonic but eventually grows to be romantic and slightly one-sided... for now :] )

Summary: A loving nickname given by your mentor when you were a tribute causes a butterfly effect that leads you back into the 75th Hunger Games as a much wiser person. This time, you realize that your affections for Finnick are more than platonic, but is it too late?

(<- Previous Part | Next Part -> | Series Masterlist)

A simple nickname - that’s all it was supposed to be.

Your fellow District 4 tribute, as you were soon to learn, wasn’t a morning person. The morning after you arrived in The Capitol, you were greeted with the sound of the tribute loudly cursing out your mentor, Finnick.

What a lovely way to start your day.

You sleepily sigh before rolling over in the all-too-comfortable silk sheets provided by the Capitol. When you heard a knock on your door, you mumble an incoherent “Come in,” before sitting up in bed.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Finnick’s saccharine voice floated to your eardrums, “Did you sleep well?”

“Better than they did.” You vaguely gesture to your fellow tribute, who you can see rubbing their eyes before nearly bumping into a wall.

He chuckles softly with his blonde waves of hair bouncing in the air.

“C’mon, we’ve got a busy day ahead of us.” 

Finnick taps the doorframe and offers you a warm smile before departing to round up the other tribute.

You manage to pull yourself out of bed and get ready for the day - the Hunger Games aren’t going to fight themselves, after all.

~

You weren’t sure when you grew close to Finnick, but it happened very suddenly. Despite his young age, he was a victor of the Hunger Games, and as charismatic as sin. The smiles spread wider, the stories became longer, and you became a strong competitor out of the pool of tributes. 

Something Finnick had coached the District 4 tributes on, besides survival skills and fighting, was presentation and image.

“Be yourself, and if that’s not the image that the Capitol wants,” Finnick offers a not-so-secretive glance to your fellow tribute, which causes you to snicker under your breath, “perhaps being someone else for a few days isn’t a terrible idea.”

~

Interviews made you nervous - especially when it could be the last time that your loved ones saw you in your best clothes before they had to bury you a few weeks later. Caesar Flickerman did his best to make all of the tributes feel comfortable, but as your turn approached, you couldn’t help calm the nausea in your stomach.

When your name is called, you calmly walk onto the dazzling stage where Capitol citizen gawk at you like you are an animal on display. You nervously blink and approach Caesar, who offers you a smile.

You find yourself stumbling over your words and blinking a lot, but the crowd seems to enjoy the display that you’re putting on. You can’t tell if they’re mocking you or not, but they’re eating every word up.

You start to tell stories of your youth, your experiences in District 4, and finally, with the story of how you woke up a few mornings ago.

“I quite like the name Sunny, it suits you.” Caesar says as you smile. “Don’t you agree?”

When he gestures to the crowd, they go wild as a brighter smile rests on your face.

“Thank you, Caesar, it’s been a pleasure.” You shake his hand before waving to the crowd.

“No, Sunny, the pleasure is all mine.”

~

Finnick genuinely smiles at you with proudness shining in his eyes as Mags hugs you.

“All you’ve got to do now is keep up that ‘good kid’ image for the entire Hunger Games - think you can do that, sweetheart?”

Your stomach does a flip, but the nerves from your interview earlier in the evening are still making your head buzz and your stomach queasy, so you can’t tell why you react that way.

“I think I can manage.”

~

The Capitol’s Darling Little Sibling.

Sunny.

Those names had completely erased the one you had used before entering - and later, winning - the Hunger Games. Luckily, your involvements with the Capitol were limited to charity events and special galas, so you didn’t come home with the sour look that Finnick had on his face after he visited the Capitol. 

You and Snow had an agreement - if you continued this charade for the rest of your life, you’d be free to live as a Victor and enjoy life post-Hunger Games.

After the announcement of the 75th Hunger Games happened, you nearly came storming into the Capitol to tell President Snow a piece of your mind. 

~

Annie Cresta’s screams from a house over still haunt your memory, even though Finnick was there to comfort her. You didn’t want to bother them, so you found yourself in the company of Mags with a wine glass in your hand.

“I can’t-,” You pause before shaking your head, “I can’t let Annie go through that again. She won’t be able to come back to us.”

Mags takes your hand and points at herself with the other. Tears glisten in your eyes as you set aside your wine glass and take both of her hands in yours.

“I can’t let you go in either, Mags. It has to be me.”

You press your head against Mags’, and she combs through your hair with one hand as you look into your eyes. The same thought lingers in your brain as she pulls away from you.

“This stays between you and I, okay?”

Mags imitates closing her mouth with a lock before throwing away a key, and you laugh.

“You get me, Mags - I hope I have more moments to spend with you in the future.”

~

“Annie Cresta.”

You watch Annie nearly crumble to the ground with a hand over her mouth, so you take Mags’ hand with your left and raise the other hand in the air.

“I volunteer as tribute!”

The crowds screams and whoops as you let go of Mags’ hand and glance towards Annie. The relief is unspoken between you two, so you simply nod before approaching Finnick.

“Please tell me you’re not mad.” You mumble under your breath as you take his hand in yours. 

His hands are warm, soft, and, more importantly, what you shouldn’t be focusing on in this very dire moment.

“I had a feeling it would be you,” He softly answers before raising your hand in the air along with his, “but hopefully you won’t have to kick my ass in the arena.”

You stifle a laugh as the crowd roars and chants your names together.

~

“The Girl on Fire is pretty hot to the touch, huh?” You tease Finnick as he climbs back into the carriage with you. “Not everyone is susceptible to your charms, after all.”

He nudges your shoulder before offering you a sugar cube.

“Does that include you?”

You bite your lip before smacking his bare shoulder.

“Don’t get any ideas, pretty boy,” You jokingly say, “you need to focus on the Hunger Games, first and foremost.”

“So you’re going to charm Katniss Everdeen?” Finnick chuckles as you chew on the sugar cube that he hands you. “Good luck, then.”

“I think you’ll find that I can charm anyone and everyone, including you, Finnick.”

~

In the training room, you keep to yourself, your fish hooks, and your thoughts as you tie a knot to secure the hook to your makeshift bobber.

You were let in on a revolutionary and, if you were being frank, one-in-a-million chance of escaping the hell that you’re currently trapped in. It involved one mission - getting Katniss Everdeen out of the games in one piece. 

That, unfortunately, would be impossible unless someone could manage to gain her trust and-

“It’s beautiful.” 

Katniss’ voice breaks you from your thoughts, and you shyly move so she can see what you’re working on.

“I saw you volunteer for that girl - it was really brave.” She continues as you feel her gaze study your every movement.

“We put ourselves through the worst torture for the ones that we care about.” You wistfully say before offering Katniss a welcoming smile.

“But Prim was my sister-“ She pauses, noticing the way your eyes soften, before continuing, “Can you… can you teach me how to make a fish hook like that, and I’ll teach you how to hunt?”

You bow your head in shame for a moment.

So she saw me struggle with hunting in my own games… 

You look up before nodding.

“The devil’s in the details,” You move aside once again so she can get a better look, “so you need to pay close attention, alright?”

~

“She trusts you,” Haymitch says in between drinks of whiskey, “so the only problem you have to deal with is keeping her arrows from making their way into Finnick’s chest.”

“She can’t be that bad, right?”

Haymitch chuckles under his breath.

“Just keep an eye on her, and I’ll do what I can.”

~

“Sunny?”

“Finnick.” You sleepily mumble before gently moving to make room on the couch.

“You should be sleeping.”

“Too much to think about.”

You hear him sigh before settling into the cushion next to you.

“Are you worried about-“

“Is it that obvious?” You look over at Finnick as he teasingly smiles at you.

“You never could hide anything from me, sweetheart.”

Your stomach fills with nerves, but you’ve been on edge from the idea of going back into the arena, so you brush off the notion that you may be in love with-

“Just promise me that you’ll be safe.” You slide your hand next to his, and without any hesitation, he takes your hand and gives it a slight squeeze.

“For you?” He chuckles softly before looking away, “Always.”

~

You pull your stylist into a warm hug as they tearfully wish you the best. They’ve been styling you since you first arrived in the Capitol years ago, and a part of you will miss the people who helped you be Sunny while working for the Capitol. 

I can’t think about that right now.

You pull your head back into the games as you step on the pedestal that’ll put you into the arena.

You’re nervous for Peeta and Katniss - you can’t imagine how scared literal teenagers are about facing off against seasoned adults - but a part of you worries for Finnick as well. He’s a vulnerable person underneath the charisma, charms, and flirting, and if the Capitol gets ahold of him, you’d-

You wouldn’t let that happen. You’d happily put yourself in harm’s way if it meant that Finnick would be safe.

In that moment, you remember why they call you Sunny: you’re warm and protective, especially towards the ones that you love.

Love.

You do love him.

And then the pedestal shoots you into the arena.

[witch-hazels-musings]

nepenthe

Warning: slight angst/ much comfort - sfw, domestic (unconditional love), character perspective | sending love to our sad boys 

character x GN reader | anthology

Includes: Childe, Dainsleif, Diluc, Kaeya

Hope.

A dying concept. One withering away slowly, painfully, until nothing but the hollow truth is left behind. Hope is debilitating - so why not let it go?

Childe

Sounds. It’s always sounds that wake him. Soft rattles, distant shouts, blood-wrenching screams he’d wish would let him rest but, alas, he could never escape what destiny kept throwing at him. Childe’s steady, heavy breathing began to ease as he captured several in his lungs. It energized the body that itched to move so he stretched his limbs and arched his back until reality came back into clarity. 

The pillow he held was wet so he pushed it away and let his face fall on the bedsheets below. They smelled familiar, comfortable. So much so that he crawled his way to the source only to find nothing there for him to touch, to pull against him, to wrap his yearning arms around just so he could hear a gentle protest. His brows furrowed and he opened his eyes. 

How come you have left me. I told you not to, didn’t I? 

Pushing up on his arms, he collapsed on bent legs, his bare arm pushing into the mattress as he yawned and shook his head. Tufts of hair slapping about in an un-brushed mess. 

‘Let me help,’ he expected someone to say but none came, and he hated it. He felt an itch, an unease somewhere in his chest that nothing could satisfy. An elongated mirror reflected his displeasure back at him. 

Scanning the room, he searched for answers. A closet left unattended, a desk where he expected to see a figure bent over and working on something he didn’t understand, a hand on a hip as it stood in the doorway, waiting for him to get out of bed already. He found nothing except an unease and a clinging scent that had no owner. 

Frustrated, he crawled out of bed. The floor was warmed only by the sun spilling in through the windows. Even the house itself felt vacant. As he headed for the bedroom door, he heard something that made him pause and, just like a wish he would make as a kid, an angel appeared in his doorway. 

“O-Oh, hello sleepy,” you beamed, your hand filled with two cups of steaming liquid. You passed by him and he smelled it; the thing he was missing. “I’ll place your cup here while you get rea-aye! Childe!” 

He lifted you from the floor not caring that you protested. Like he’d done it countless times, he hoisted you up and over him so he could practically body-slam you onto the unmade bed. His arms closed, secure around your waist while you fought with the sheets to breathe. 

“Childe!” You struggled against him, shock and awe plastered on your very existence. 

“Sleep more.” 

“What do you mean sleep more?” He pushed you forward with powerful legs while his bare and muscular arms pulled you against his chest. Your back felt so comfortable he wondered why he woke up with a pillow instead of you. “Ch-” 

“--n’t call me that.” He mumbled against the back of your neck and draped a leg over your own. “You smell good.” 

He felt you shiver, it made his heart pound, “do I, Ajax?” 

“Yes,” he said with satisfaction in his heart but hunger everywhere else.  

Hope. It holds the lifeline to a life we want to believe in. 

Hope. And it sounds like your name. 

--

Dainsleif 

His back ached so he adjusted. His legs felt tight so he uncrossed them. His hand felt empty so he reached for what should have been there. The panic in his heart rose slowly until his nails dug into the earth, void of what should have touched them. 

Dainsleif opened his eyes against his own better judgement. The sun in the leaves was brighter than he anticipated so he blocked it out with his hand. Birds sung above him, the leaves rustled gently. The world moved on but he felt stuck. 

A quiet keeper with nothing left to keep.

Curiously, he searched for signs of what was lost to him. A life he never imagined, a place unmeant for a being like him. This knowledge he knew but somewhere he refused to listen anymore, and now, now he wish he had. 

Pressure on his arm lingered, the weight of another pushed against him but his side was vacant, ready to be filled. Carefully, he lifted himself from the ground so he could wander, follow, or listen as he needed. The camp before him looked undisturbed. The barrier above him was still holding, the thick canvas rustling in the morning breeze. The fire just out of reach burned as if it had recently been lit, a kettle steaming above it. There were signs, signals. He just had to read them correctly. 

Pacing around the campsite, he noticed a set of footprints and set off in the direction they went. Dain wanted to run, wanted to sprint after them but their trail was so faint her might have missed a turn, a backtrack; one miss-step and he could become even more lost than he already was. 

A splash caught his attention and soon he reached the edge of the tree line that gave view to a babbling riverbed. There you were, standing at its bank with your hand in the stream and body perched on a rock. It appeared you were washing something, perhaps an old shirt that had wandered a journey far more dangerous than he’d ever wish upon it. He thought seeing you there would give him back the ability to breathe, but it didn’t. 

He stepped and you found him. 

“Dain, morning,” you called with a ring in your voice. The one he’d recognize above all else, the one he’d remember until all else faded. His. His one. 

When he drew close enough, he stood above you while you sat on the rock. Your hand wet from the cool river, arm exposed to the sunlight that had already started affecting your skin. He’d block it all out if he could. 

“Hey, I’m almost -- Dain?” He leaned in, his hand flush against the spring-touched stone and he captured what he knew he shouldn’t with lips that had known no other for centuries. 

Hope. It holds the lifeline to a life we want to believe in.

Hope. And it sounds like your name.

--

Diluc 

It took a while for his senses to return. For the pull of sleep to fall away from him like frost on morning leaves. His breathing shifted from steady, slow movements to deliberate ones, ones that filled his ears as if to rouse him more. Diluc could feel it all. The bedsheets beneath him, the silken one against his stomach. His hand as it rose and fell on his bare chest, twitching fingers spurring to life. He adjusted in the down-pillow and became washed in a scent so powerful it opened his eyes. 

He expected to find you there. Resting peacefully at his side. Perhaps you would face him and he could take in your radiance, or you’d have your back to him so he could be gifted with a place for his tender kiss. It was likely you’d already be awake, a book in your hand or document to review. Hair out of place but oh so perfect. He expected to see you, turning to him with a smile he’d recognize and a voice that called his name. You weren’t, and his heart ached because of it. 

Diluc rose from the bed. Strong arms flexing to keep him up-right as he scanned the room in search of something to ease his unsteady nerves. There was nothing except for the lingering knowledge you were once here. 

A shirt draped over the back of a chair. Items you’d picked out in the city strewn across the dresser her gave up trying to keep clear. The bathroom door left ajar but the wafting remnants of shampoo spilled from inside. He rubbed the back of his head, let his hands run across his tired face before they fell in between the legs he’d walk for miles on just to see you one more time. 

The world is still, but he is not. 

Diluc adjusted his shirt; memories of your fingers buttoning it closed, of your hand running down his chest. They made him smile and he shook his head in the mirror at what a man he’d become. The belt around his waist tightened, the engravement on the leather made him pause when his thumb ran over it. A gift from you. Practical, personal, something to carry you with him no matter where he wandered. You were always protecting him, in more ways than one. When he reached for his tie, he flung it around his neck knowing he didn’t need to see to put it on, and made his way down the hall. 

Maid’s bowed in respect, attendants continue on their duties while he searched, meandered; he was lost. 

A gentle melody spilled from the kitchen, drew him in. It was empty save for one soul who reeled him in like a fish accepting they’d been caught. His hands reached for their hips, his chin settled against them and elicited a laugh that filled his heart more than anything ever had.   

“Goodmorning, handsome,” you hummed, head turning to press a kiss to his lonely cheek. He replied with one of his own to your upper shoulder. “I made coffee, want some?” 

“In a minute,” Diluc spun you to face him, let his forehead rest against your own, breathed in what he was missing from his bed. 

“I love you too,” you professed as you adjusted his skewed tie while he waited for yesterday to fade so he could welcome in today. 

Hope. It holds the lifeline to a life we want to believe in.

Hope. And it sounds like your name.

--

Kaeya

The night comes unexpectedly. Each and every time he falls without knowing - perhaps it’s on purpose that goes until he forgets. Is it hard to face the truth Mr. Calvary Captain? He’s uncertain but there is one thing he knows. 

His dreams have come again. Those dreams that leave a bitter taste in his mouth until he finds something sweet to drown them out. His own twisted sense of curative measures that never last long. Licking his lips makes him grimace so he reaches for what clears his senses. 

A scared hand extends across silken sheets, searches, yearns for the warmth that should be there but finds only cold. In a flash his eyes open as if seeing will confirm that what holds him together hasn’t really left him, not yet, please not yet. What he see’s brings him no comfort; tense fingers gripping the nothingness that’s seeped in once again. He raises his head, moves to the other side of the bed. Traces, only traces are what’s left. 

Kaeya feels his heart plummet into his stomach. It stops, it all stops, and in the early morning a familiar feeling creeps back in. 

Once the abandoned child, always abandoned. 

Kaeya tears the sheets away from his legs, the cool air hits his skin: his chest, his thighs, his arms and back. He can feel the cold as much as he has command of it. A noise from behind him pulls his attention. The open window whistling as if to mock his nerves so he quickly moves to quiet it. 

His eyes adjust and start to see life where it should be. A bag dropped to the floor, contents spilling out as they often are. A jacket, a hat, it’s all where it should be but their owner is missing and he needs to see - needs to be where that heart beats. Needs to feel the gentle hand that cups his face, the one that takes his with them, the one that cares for him as much as he does them.

A noise from beyond the closed door reminds him there is still a chance so he makes his way there and hopes what lies beyond can chase away the thoughts creeping in. 

A kettle whistles, a voice floats down to meet him so when he reaches the end of the hall and sees the figure who should be at his side standing alone in the half-lit kitchen; he wonders why it’s still so hard to breathe. To ease the pain in his chest that was left by an empty side of the bed. 

When you turn to him, as if you knew he was there all alone, the face you show him is one of love and with open arms you welcome him home. 

“Morning. It’s still a bit early, did I wake you?” you say, unbeknownst to the turmoil he awoke too. You moved to the island counter, hand pressing onto the marble while the other extended to him. He swallowed. 

“And here I thought you were being loud on purpose,” he pushed through, attempting to hold onto the tease that kept him afloat all these years, “what, did you miss me?” 

“So what If I did. I’m allowed,” you played back and he was happy for it. 

He grabbed your lower back, pulling you to him as he breathed desperately, oh so desperately, across your lips, “show me how much.” 

“You first,” you hum. 

So he did. With a kiss that bent your back and brought you close to him, he showed you just how near he was to losing himself to the feeling. All his life he’s given in to the will of others but now he wishes to give it all to you; only you, as long as you are here and he can know the warmth that comes from your touch - even for a moment. 

Hope. It holds the lifeline to a life we want to believe in.

Hope. And it sounds like your name.

nepenthe :: a potion used by the ancients to induce forgetfulness of pain or sorrow 

[sachiko1309]

Pon Farr

Summary: After Spock and Lucy established a relationship, Spocks nature calling sends them into taking a few more steps as a couple.

Word count: 4941

Warnings: smut with plot, violence, Minors DNI!!! this contains adult content

Translations:

* sa-fu = son

* ashayam = beloved/darling

* kal'i'farr = wedding

* nafai = okay 

* Oekon you ri goal fai -tor, ra you aishan tor = you have no idea what you're doing to me

Other notes: The extended mind meld is ssth that grew in my imagination. Just ignore or run with it. Thx 🥰

Knowing you might want to read it @mystery-star I tagged you 😇

I woke up in the night to someone caressing my body.

Spock.

I smiled at him. His face was brightly lit by the moonlight. But when I recognized his expression, the smile slipped away. His eyes were full of hunger and sexual desire. Pon Farr had begun. Spock leaned over me. "You look so beautiful, t'hy'la ." I tried to push him away, but he was far too strong. He easily took my hands and held them tied above my head. "Spock, stop. Your Pon Farr has begun. We must..." He interrupted me with an urgent kiss. With one hand he still held my hands above my head. The other started pulling my nightgown up.

"Stop! Stop it! That's not you!" My voice got louder and I tried to wriggle out of his grip unsuccessfully. His lips kissed my neck, my face, my cleavage. "Stop. I don't want this. Spock, please." I pleaded. Fear rose inside me. Tears formed in my eyes. But Spock didn't stop. He had now pushed my nightgown up so far, that he could easily slide his fingers over my panties.

"Jim!" I screamed, hoping to wake him. "Jim help me! Please!"

“He won’t be able to help you. He's far too weak." Spock sneered and pushed my panties aside. "No!" I had actually started to cry. There was a big lump in my throat and I felt sick. Images of Hanesh kept flashing through my head. "Jim!"

The bedroom door slammed shut with a crash. Jim threw himself at Spock and actually managed to pry him off of me. I jumped out of bed and stood frozen in the middle of the room.

“Lucy run! Get Ambassador Sarek ." Jim shouted. Spock punched him in the face and then tried to reach for me again. But Jim didn't let go and pulled him back onto the bed. "Go!" he shouted at me again. Blood ran from his nose. Suddenly, I spun around and ran. Out of the room and down the long hallway. My nightgown billowed dangerously high on my hips, but I didn't care. I ran like a madwoman all the way to Spock's father's apartment. When I got there I banged furiously on the door.

“Ambassador Sarek. I need your help! It's about Spock." I pounded and pounded. I'm sure I woke up almost every one of his neighbors, but I didn't care. Suddenly the door opened and I fell forward into a dark brown tunic. Large hands straightening me again.

“Lieutenant Esteban. "What happened?" Sarek asked me and let me go.

"Spock... He..." I stammered, unable to calm myself.

"Remain calm." Sarek took my hands. I immediately felt his calmness. I tried to orientate myself on that. It took a few breaths, but then I managed to say: "Spock forced himself on me. I think his Pon Farr has started. Jim could stop him and now they're fighting."

As if struck by lightning, Sarek let go of my hands and gathered up his tunic. And then he ran. I could not believe it. Ambassador Spock, a full-blooded Vulcan ran! I quickly ran after him and was able to catch up with him at the door. The sight that greeted me was terrifying. The room was completely devastated. Jim layed beneath Spock. Holding his hands protectively in front of his head. Blood ran from his nose and lip. "Spock!" I uttered. His eyes were immediately on me. Jim took advantage of the moment, clamping Spock's legs between his and rolling around. With his hands he pushed his arms to the ground and tried to pin him to the ground with his entire body to keep.

"Sa- fu*!" Ambassador Sarek's voice boomed through the room. And as if he was breaking through an invisible wall, Spock immediately stopped struggling. He blinked a few times and then looked between me and Jim. When Spock saw my tears, he was shocked. "What have I done? Did I hurt you?" I shook my head.

"Let go of me, Jim!" Spock demanded.

"Are you sure?" Jim looked uncertainly at Spock and then at Sarek .

"Yes. I can control myself now."

Jim reluctantly got up from the ground, trying to keep the blood on his face from dripping onto the floor.

Behind me the door swung open again. "What happened here?" Scotty and Bones. Presumably woken up by the noise, they pushed past me. Bones was immediately at Jims side and looked at his face. "I'm fine. Get your hands out of my face," Jim said and slapped his hands away.

“You are not. Your nose is broken." Bones protested.

"Ay, I think the Commander got the Captain pretty good." Scotty's eyes were on Spock's hands. Bones spun around. "You what?" He waved his hands angrily at Spock. Jim stepped in. Probably out of concern that Spock might freak out again in his current state. “Everything’s fine, Bones. He didn't do it on purpose. He has Pon Farr." Jim pronounced it as if it was an illness, causing Scotty to raise an eyebrow: " Pon Farr? Is that contagious?" He immediately took a few steps back and looked at Spock uncertainly.

"No it's not. Our first officer has just become this wild, sex-crazed animal. That's why we're here, isn't it Jim?" Bones started to press Jim's face again. He just whined and didn't answer. "I thought so." Bones murmured, barely making it audible. Scotty stared between the two, obviously confused. "Ay, and what does that mean exactly?" Bones looked at him annoyed. "He over there..." He pointed to Spock. “Must mate with Lucy in the next eight days or he’ll die. Pon Farr is a vulcan mating ritual."

“Doctor, I appreciate it, if you didn’t talk about my culture like that. Pon Farr is very important to us and your condescending attitude is insulting to my people." Spock growled, his jaw clenched tight, his hands clenched at his sides. "Condescending." Bones hissed. "Jim looks like he's been run over and you're worried about whether I'm insulting your culture or not." Spock took a step toward Bones, growling even louder, but I was faster.

I put my hands calmly on his chest and held him back. I had barely touched him before he recoiled from me as if I had burned him. “That’s enough, Bones. For Vulcans, Pon Farr is one of the most intimate things. I need you to be my friend in this, so at least try not to get thrown out, okay ?" I asked him. Bones just grumbled, but then nodded.

"Well." Ambassador Sarek raised his voice. "I think it would be best for everyone if we go our separate ways. Spock, you come with me. The others stay here and take care of Captain Kirk. I'll go to the High Priestess straight away and make the necessary preparations. Until tomorrow." He stepped aside and waited for Spock to walk past him. But he hesitated and looked at me.

"I'm fine. You didn't hurt me." I said and took him in my arms. "I'll wait for you here and it'll be over tomorrow, okay?"

"Okey." Spock hid his face in my hair. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me, ashayam*." I hugged him tighter. “I was never mad at you, sa t’hy’la. You can not help it."

Before Spock left the room, he turned to Jim. “I'm sorry, Jim. Thank you for protecting Lucy from me. I'll be eternally grateful to you." Jim waved him off with a wry smile. "Oh, nonsense. You're my friend, that's a given. Even if I wouldn't say no if the next few drinks went to you." Spock's mouth twitched before he turned away and left the room, followed by his father.

***

When I woke up the next morning I felt completely exhausted. Bones, Scotty, Jim and I stayed up a little longer trying to put the room back in order. I peeled myself out of bed and went into the living room. In one corner the broken furniture lay piled on top of each other, a pile of dust in front of it. Jim was sprawled out on the sofa, snoring softly. I shook him awake. “Come on, get up. I'm going to get ready and then it's your turn, okay ?" Jim hummed and rubbed his face. " Hmm... Yeah..."

Shaking my head, I went into the bathroom. After brushing my teeth and showering, I sat on the edge of the bathtub and stared at the traditional dress hanging neatly on the hanger on the door like a dark omen. It was floor length and had medium length balloon sleeves. Like flowing water, blue and green colors flowed around the dress and made it shimmer like a lizard rising from the water. I tied my hair up and slipped into the dress. It was light and made of thin, fine material. It fell in soft lines over my body and billowed on the floor. Great. It was way too long. Hopefully I wouldn't trip. I mentally cursed the much taller Vulcans.

A pounding on the door broke me out of my thoughts. “Lucy, hurry up. Scotty and Bones are already waiting and I haven't even showered yet." I pulled the door open and switched with Jim. Carefully, so as not to step on the dress, I went into the living room. Scotty and Bones were sitting there on the sofa. They were dressed in floor-length white tunics and wore something like a gray wool parka over their shoulders.

A little later, Jim emerged from the bathroom in the same outfit. "I think I'm dying." He announced, pulling the tunic up to his hips. "How on earth do they not shrink in these clothes?" Bones shook his head. “Were you not paying attention in the academy? Vulcans are used to heat. Their body temperature is higher than ours and they experience hypothermia much later than we do."

"And then they wear carpets for miles on a desert planet?" Jim put the parka on the sofa and tried to somehow sit with his tunic on. It looked really ridiculous. I had to laugh, which earned me a dirty look.

“Ay Lassie , it is definitely beneficial to wear long, loose clothes in such temperatures and sunlight. They provide enough UV protection and keep you reasonably cool." Scotty chimed in, leaning back more comfortably. "I like this tunic. Maybe I can take one home with me."

Jim opened his mouth but was interrupted by a knock on the door. I stood up and waded through the masses of skirt to the door. When I opened it I saw Ambassador Sarek and Spock. Sarek was dressed in the same robes as the others, but when my eyes landed on Spock, I stopped breathing. He looked hot. He wore a gold tunic with a white collar made of fine silk. Over it he wore a knee-length blue jacket embroidered with gold decorations. His face was framed by the high collar of his jacket and contrasted wonderfully with his black hair.

I walked the path in silence next to Spock. All my concentration was on not tripping. A tingling feeling spread through my body the longer the walk went. As we turned a corner, there was a woman standing there in an equally elaborate red dress. Spock stopped me. "Do you know what you have to do?" I nodded uncertainly. "I'm going with the high priestess, right?"

"Correctly. We'll meet again soon." He squeezed my hand encouragingly and I slowly walked towards the High Priestess with unsteady steps. "Hello Lieutenant Esteban. I'm High Priestess T'Pau . Do you know what you have to do?" The older Vulcan woman asked me. "Yes. When we start, I have to be the last to follow the group." I answered, out of breath. A gong could be heard in the distance. She nodded. "Then let's get started."

Scotty and Bones got in line behind T'Pau and I followed them last into the small stadium. It was surrounded by high stone walls. A large jade gong hung in the middle; Spock stood patiently by. Standing next to a wall behind Spock were his father and Jim. I stood there, Scotty and Bones at my side, waiting for my turn.

The priestess greeted Spock with the Vulcan salute, which he returned. He knelt before her and placed the fingertips of her right hand right next to his ear. He stood up and looked at his father and Jim. As if on command, they stepped next to him. “As you probably remember, Priestess, this is Captain James Tiberius Kirk and my father is Ambassador Sarek . "I have chosen them to be my witnesses to the ceremony." Spock explained calmly.

"And how do you guarantee their presence?" She asked him.

"With my life." Spock replied firmly.

“What will happen now comes from the beginning of time. It is the volcanic heart, the volcanic soul. It is kal'i'farr*." she began to recite.

Spock slowly walked back to the gong and I followed him. Scotty and Bones stayed where they were supposed to. We stopped briefly in front of the gong. Spock slowly reaching out, giving me time to interrupt him, but I didn't. The deep sound of the gong echoed through the stadium. “As it was destined from the beginning, and it will be for all tomorrow, for you, sa t'hy'la, I will do everything I can." I said in a loud voice and raised two fingers. "Lucy, my k'diwa, from you comes everything that I am." Spock replied and placed his fingers on mine. I pressed sensitively against his fingers.

"As it was in the beginning, so it shall be now." I gently stroked his fingers. Spock took my entire hand in his. "Two bodies, one spirit." He finished the ritual and took me in his arms.

***

After we had completed the ritua, we were led by the priestess to a single small hut at the edge of the rite site. The hut was made of reddish stone with a black roof. The door was made of dark wood and was decorated with volcanic symbols. Small windows nestled between black shutters

A few meters away there were a few benches under a small canopy. Soft pillows were spread across them. A fire burned in the middle. The small square was surrounded by a low blue hedge with red flowers. Plants that were unfamiliar to me were planted loosely around the hut. The priestess opened the door and motioned for us to enter. “We will wait for you here. The bonding ritual is an important part of our culture; correct execution and witnessing are essential. If any difficulties or questions arise, do not hesitate to reveal yourself."

I looked between Jim, Bones, Scotty, Ambassador Sarek , and the priestess with wide eyes.

Witnesses?

But I didn't have time to think about it any further. Spock pulled me into the hut behind him. As soon as the priestess had closed the door behind us, Spock's hands were on mine. "What do you think, k'diwa?" He asked, feeling my confusion and fear through his hands.

"Are the others going to sit out there the whole time?" I looked down and blushed. Just the thought that Spock's father knew what his son was going to do was so embarrassing, that I wanted to sink into the ground. And the possibility that he could hear us... I didn't even want to think about it.

"This ritual is very important to my people." Spock replied. "Do you trust me when I tell you that none of the witnesses present find it strange?"

“You probably don’t believe that yourself. On the other side of that door sits James Tiberius Kirk. How do you think he's going to tease us for the next few months when we go out there again?"

“Jim knows how important my culture is to me. He won't dare joke about it. And if he does, I will use the Vulcan neck hold to silence him." Spock smiled mischievously at me. And the image of Jim passing out on the floor brought a small grin to my face. "Okey. " I breathed. I trusted Spock to stand up for me if Jim did anything. I wasn't worried about Bones and Scotty as they were mostly just dragged into the taunts by Jim. Then I looked Spock in the eyes: "Doesn't it bother you that there are five people out there listening to us having sex?"

Spock smiled with hungry eyes. "On the contrary. I'm happy thinking about everyone now knowing who is claiming you. Let all New Vulkan hear who you belong to. I need you. I want to hear how good I make you feel. I want you to moan louder than you have ever done before. You belong to Me!"

Jesus... Spock during Pon Farr was already a different number. My usually stoic Vulcan now circled me like a hungry lion its prey. His eyes were dark with lust and he was breathing heavily. I felt the desire boiling inside me and pooling between my legs. Without taking his eyes off me, Spock stripped off his ritual clothing until he stood naked in front of me. He then began to pull my dress over my head.

Carelessly dismissing, he pressed his lips hard against mine. He grabbed me by my thighs and lifted me up. A short sound of horror escaped my mouth as my back slammed against the wall. “Sorry, t'hy'la . Did I hurt you?"

"No. It just surprised me." I replied breathlessly. Spock hummed in relief against my lips and kissed my chin, my neck, up to the sensitive spot under my ear. When he sucked the soft skin between his teeth, the first moan escaped me .

" T'hy'la ..." Spock's voice was hoarse and strained. "I can't hold back any longer. Please... allow me to begin the ritual."

"Nafai*." I breathed. As soon as I had agreed, Spock lowered me onto his member. I threw my head back, a loud moan on my lips.

He held me tightly with one arm and didn't move at all. He placed the other on my cheek, ready to merge our consciousnesses together to build the foundation for the bonding ritual. He looked at me expectantly, "Are you ready?"

I nodded and closed my eyes.

He merged our consciousness and our memories blurred together. Then he began to say the ceremonial words in Vulcan. I had made a translation in my language a few days earlier. The priestess had explained to me that it was extremely important for Spock and me to perform the ritual in both languages because we come from different races.

„T'nash-veh k'diwa.

Nash-veh spock ugaya tor kwon-sum tanilau klashausu, ashaya heh savety tor du.

Nash-veh dungi kwon-sum nam-tor tra' na' du tor nenikaya du k'fai ek' ra sarlah.

Tor gol'nev du svi' rom heh svi' rasahkos.

La' nash-veh lamok heh ya'akash du tor kal-tor nash-veh tor nam-tor kashek klimtau k' du na' etwel ha-tor.

Sanoi nem-tor nash-veh u' ish-veh telan katelau.

Etwel tel-tor dungau to'ovau karik abru' wak heh tanilau etek k' ek' wuh a'rak vel ik sarlah k' ha-tor telan."

I answered him in Vulcan to complete his part of the ritual: „Nash-veh lucy nem-tor du u' t'nash-veh telan katelau."

Now it was my turn to say the same words to complete the bonding ritual:

"My beloved.

I, Lucy, promise to always offer you protection, love and security.

I will always be there for you to support you in whatever comes.

To support you in good and bad.

Here I stand and ask you to allow me to merge with you for our lives.

Please accept me as your bonding mate.

Our bond should grow stronger over time and provide us with all the positive aspects that come with a lifelong bond."

Spock replied in my language, ending the ritual. "I, Spock, accept you as my bonding mate." Then he removed his hand from my cheek and I opened my eyes.

" T'hy'la ? " Can you hear me?" I put my hand over my mouth. "Oh my God..." I gasped. “I heard you in my head! It worked!" Spock smiled slightly. "Of course it worked. Did you have any doubts?"

"Just a little." I admitted, watching with relief as his eyes widened as he heard me in his head. "Fascinating," he exhaled, carrying me to the bed.

Only then did I look around the small room. Everything was decorated in orange-brown earth tones. A landscape painting of Vulcan hung in the middle above the bed. Next to the bed were two small, triangular bedside tables and two flower pots with plants I didn't recognize. On the opposite wall there was a brown leather sofa, a glass display case and a small shoe cabinet. To my left was a trellis with an ivy-like plant and a picture of a vulan poem, which I couldn't decipher. Spock sank into the soft mattress with me. The cover was rough against my skin. I suspected it was made from the coarse linen of simple Vulcan clothing.

The change in position caused Spock to penetrate me deeper. "Hmph." I mumbled, trying to muffle my volume with my hand. “K’diwa. Stop hiding. Everyone knows what's happening between us here. Trying to make them believe otherwise is extremely illogical." Spock murmured between gentle kisses. "I know... It's just... This is extremely embarrassing for me. For us humans, intimacy rarely happens in public." I whispered, trying not to blush any further.

"Understandable. We Vulcans are also not a people who openly show affection physically. But this can hardly be called public."

"Still..." I muttered. "It's weird."

"T'hy'la, what can I do to stop you from being embarrassed?" he asked, looking at me intently. His brown eyes were almost completely black. Hunger and worry alternated as if he were himself not sure what he should feel.

I put a hand on his cheek. "Talk to me. Tell me what you think, what you feel, what you want from me to make me forget where we are. Make me feel like there is only you. I want you to own me completely. I want to be completely at your mercy."

" K'diwa ..." Spock groaned, pushing himself onto his hands with his head thrown back. „Oekon du ri tor fai-tor, ra du aishan tor.*"

And then he started moving. He slowly increased the pace until he was thrusting hard and deep into me. He took my hands and held them pressed to the mattress above my head. Like a train crashing into a wall, his emotions rushed through me. His desire was overwhelming and I wondered how he hadn't jumped on me much sooner. " Look at me!" His voice echoed in my head. I opened my eyes and looked at him. "You're only mine, understand?"

I nodded, but that wasn't enough for him.

"Answer me!"

"Yes Commander."

I let my gaze wander over his body. The key to my collar dangled around his neck on a thin silver chain. It stood in stark contrast to his dark, hairy chest. A thin line of hair ran down his stomach to his crotch. As if hypnotized, my gaze remained fixed on the spot where he penetrated me.

As Spock leaned down to kiss me, the key clinked rhythmically against the metal ring around my neck. His mouth traveled over my chin and neck. He stayed just below my ear for a moment before sucking the skin between his teeth. His tongue glided over it again and again causing hot waves of pleasure to run through my body.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes Commander."

I had no idea what he was planning to do, but I didn't care as long as he didn't stop fucking me. When he bit, I was so surprised that I reared up and let out a scream. Pain shot through my throat, but Spock didn't stop. On the contrary, his movements became faster and his grip on my wrists became stronger. He threw his head back and let a loud growl rumble through his chest. Warm liquid ran down my neck. Was I bleeding? I got the answer when Spock kissed me. I tasted the metallic taste of blood on his lips.

"I'm bleeding!" I accused him telepathically.

“Forgive me, t'hy'la . I didn't mean to..." Worry rose in his mind. "I forgot you were human. What can I do to make it up to you?"

"Fulfill your promise." I grinned diabolically at him as I shared my thoughts with him. "Make me cum. I want everyone to hear how good you fuck me."

"Anything for you t'hy'la ."

He took both of my hands in one and then placed his free fingers on my clit. "I don't want you to hold back, understand?" He panted, his voice strained. "Yes, Commander." I answered obediently.

He slowly circled two of his fingers over my sensitive spot, eliciting a soft moan of pleasure from me. He adjusted his pace to his hand and didn't take his eyes off me. His eyes wandered attentively over my face, my breasts, over his hand on my crotch and back again. The familiar tension began to form in my stomach, indicating that my orgasm was not far away. My legs were shaking and my breathing was heavy, punctuated by ragged moans.

"Spock..." I breathed. "Please... I have to... I can't..."

"Come for me, k'diwa." His fingers increased their pace, the thrusts becoming heavier and deeper. And then the band snapped. I bucked beneath him, lips formed in an O. "Oh God! Spock!" I didn't hold back. My moans were loud and definitely unmistakable to anyone sitting outside or walking by.

"T'hy'la." He called to me in his mind, pressing his forehead hard against mine. His consciousness forced its way into my head. He didn't hold it back and I could see what he saw, felt how hard it was for him to control himself. Spock was on the verge of his orgasm. His entire thinking was animalistic and possessive and I kept catching glimpses of his thoughts. His mind connected and disconnected from mine in waves.

"Mine. I have to..."

Spock closed his eyes. His breathing was heavy and uneven. He reached for my hand, but instead of taking it, I put it to my mouth. I waited until he opened his eyes again and looked at him as I slowly put two fingers in my mouth. I started sucking on them, letting my tongue dance around them. He gritted his teeth hard, his eyes fixed on my mouth and his fingers. I knew what I was doing to him. Vulcan hands and ears were the most sensitive areas. I practically gave him a blowjob. " K'diwa ..."

I took his fingers deeper into my mouth. His movements becoming frantic and it wasn't long before he emptied himself inside me, twitching and growling. With a soft pop I released his fingers from my mouth. But Spock apparently wasn't done with me yet. He forcefully grabbed me by the waist and pulled me down to the edge of the bed.

Then he knelt in front of me. The head between my thighs. Without hesitation he licked my entire entrance once. I reared up and clawed at the bed sheet. Instinctively I tried to close my thighs, but Spock held me tight. He happily pushed his tongue into my entrance and began to collect the mixture of his cum and my wetness in his mouth, then he stood up and leaned over me.

"Open your mouth!" he ordered. I obeyed and he spit everything into my mouth. "You only swallow when I allow you to, understand?"

"Yes Commander."

"Good girl."

A quiet hum could be heard from his chest as he knelt in front of me again. Without warning, he pushed two fingers inside me and wrapped his lips expertly around my clit. I groaned and his sperm ran from the corner of my mouth down my cheek. I quickly swiped it back into my mouth. A knot beginning to build inside me as his ministrations went on. My walls fluttered around his fingers and I twitched under his tongue, my mind completely fogged up. Every time I exhaled; a moan escaped me. Regardless, Spock drove me closer and closer to the edge. It was like he was trying to break a record.

His tongue circled my clit in sloppy figure eights, the fingers massaged my sensitive point in the same rhythm. "Spock!" I called him in my mind. Signaling how close I was.

"Swallow!"

And I swallowed right at the moment the knot burst. I called out his name, gurgling as the wave washed through my body. The edges of my vision went black and I raised my hands, shaking, hoping to hold on to him. As if he sensed it, he was on top of me. He took me in his arms and rolled over onto his back. Exhausted, I collapsed on top of him and snuggled under his chin. His hand gently stroked my back, the other held my head. We lay there for a few moments to regain our strength.

[laceswan]

The Spirit of Fate

The Smiling Princess, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5

Finnick Odair x fem!dancer!reader

What if the equivalent of a Disney Princess was thrown into the Hunger Games? Sylke is optimistic and has an affinity for all that is gentle and sweet. What happens when she is placed in an arena and forced to kill or be killed?

Fluff and angst, strangers to lovers, T/W: canon-typical violence

Epilogue is out!

Finnick woke up with a startled gasp. With eyes wide open he was now incredibly aware of all that was touching his body. He could feel the suit from the arena clinging to his body, the cold air and the mask on his face, and a bandage on his arm. Looking around, he saw the inside of a jet much like the one had taken to get to the arena. Beetee and Katniss were in a similar position, lying on mats on the floor with bandages and wires monitoring them. Behind a frosted glass door he heard voices. Slowly, he stood up and walked over to the door. Inside, he found Haymitch and Plutarch sitting by a table and talking.

“You’re up.”

“I am. Where are the others?”

Plutarch stepped closer. There was sadness in his expression, but Finnick had half a mind not to trust it.

“Snow got to them before we could, there wasn’t any time.”

Finnick leaned against the table, his head hung low and defeated.

“Alright… what about Sylke, where’s she? Are we headed to the house or-“

This time it was Haymitch that spoke. He placed a hesitant hand on Finnick's shoulder.

“Finnick, I’m really sorry.”

Terror painted across Finnick’s face.

“We sent some people, but by the time they got there…”

Haymitch trailed off as Finnick sunk into his body. He let his body fall onto a chair, but had it not been there he would have just ended up on the floor. He assumed the worst. His hands flew to cover his mouth and muffle the little cries that came out. He’d already suffered her death once before, why again?

“Do we at least have her body? I want… I wanna give her a proper burial.”

His voice was shaky, but this was what needed to be done. He needed at least to say goodbye.

Haymitch looked to him with utmost pity.

“Son, she’s alive. They got her.”

And suddenly her death felt like a blessing. Burning emotion seized his body. It wasn’t even rage, nor terror, just pure anguish.

“No, no! You told me-you promised! You promised we would get her out!”

Haymitch sighed.

“I made a lot of promises. We’ll send a rescue team when the dust settles.”

Finnick nodded. His whole body was still stricken and trembling with agony, but he wasn’t one to throw a tantrum; especially not when he knew firsthand the nuances of covert operation in the capitol. Katniss, however, was a different sorry. When she heard about Peeta she did everything Finnick’s impulse had urged him to do. She screamed and shouted, even attacked Haymitch. She clawed and batted at him like a desperate animal, repeating that he made a promise, that he was a liar. Finnick could only watch, for once feeling pity, as well as understanding. Ten years ago, he would have done exactly the same.

When they landed in District Thirteen, Finnick, Katniss, and Beetee were sent to the infirmary. The lightning strike had presented some complications to Finnick’s health, so they dressed him in a white gown and admitted him to a small room with a thick glass door until he recovered. The room was probably white too, clinical and pristine, probably cleaned by the hour. But right now, it looked like it was coated in mustard gas. The lights buzzed with a sort of iodine yellow hue, washing the room in an ominously warm colour.

During his recovery, they allowed him few personal items-not that he had many to begin with. He was however, able to get some rope. When he was awake his mind would race. There was nothing to do, nothing to keep him distracted, his only task was apparently to recover. He could at least keep his hands busy, tying and untying the same couple ropes until there were blisters on his hands. It helped to move his hands, but not enough. Every second, his head was flooded with thoughts of her. Perhaps he had brought this on himself, refusing to think about her for so long in the arena, simply because there wasn’t time. Now, he had all the time in the world, and it felt wrong not to think of her at every moment. They were keeping her alive, he was sure of that much. They wouldn’t give up their leverage so easily. Was she in a similar room, white and cold with a similarly racing mind? We’re they hurting her? Or was she still just some pretty thing in a cage? Was she able to dance? A bittersweet smile came to Finnick’s face when he pictured her dancing. He saw her in a room just like his, in a gown just like his, dancing barefoot around the room with her eyes closed. It brought him comfort, the idea that she could perhaps maintain at least a little joy. But of course, thoughts of her dancing were followed by a much more somber and unfortunately likely possibility. In his mind, Finnick couldn’t help but wonder if they were restraining her. He saw her strapped fo a bed much like the one he had in the infirmary, struggling and begging to be given even a moment of freedom to move. He at least had that privilege. He could pace, sit on the floor, even dance if her wanted to. What if she couldn’t? Such questions plagued him mind. The span of morbid possibilities refused to be ignored, and so he listened to that dangerous voice. He fell into a spiraling rabbit-hole of ways she might have been hurting, only further enabled by his present utter inability to help her.

It affected his health too. The doctors called it a parasympathetic stress response, but all he understood was that it felt like shit. He was always tired but only sometimes able to sleep, he experienced phantom pain in random places, and everything took longer to heal. The time he spent in the infirmary was miserable. It was miserable for Katniss too. She had a nightmare once and came into his room. That night was perhaps his lowest point. It was when death looked so welcoming, so lovely a fate to experience, if only it would come sooner. The only thing that kept him alive was knowing the capitol wouldn’t let her die. He refused to die if she was still alive and hurting.

Katniss somehow recovered much faster. Finnick was a little jealous, that she was able to keep living her life even when Peeta was in the capitol. She was discharged, and not long after, Coin called everyone to hear a speech, which included those admitted in the infirmary. Finnick stood with the doctors and other patients, making a little patch of white in a sea of grey. Coin announced that Katniss was to be the face of the rebellion, and that in exchange for that, there were some “concessions”. Specifically the extraction the the victors held hostage in the capitol. The crowd began to clamor at the mention of Peeta’s name. They shouted and exclaimed, rejecting Peeta’s rescue. Katniss made her way over as Johanna’s name was announced.

“Finnick, I made the deal for Sylke too.”

Coin’s voice boomed through the hall.

“…and Sylke Fairinan”

Their was utter silence at her name. Some people looked a little confused. Finnick was just a little shocked himself as well. He never quite thought of Sylke as a victor. Hearing her name, her full name, announced like that to a crowd made her feel like a public figure, a celebrity, someone with an image and a life they hide from the world. But to him she was just Sylke, that’s what she’d always been. He hadn’t even heard her last name in ten years. She was always just Sylke, the angel that occupied eternal space in his mind and heart.

“Once freed, they will be granted pardon for any and all crimes committed against the rebel cause.”

The crowd once again resulted into vocal dissent and anger. A worries look quickly came to Katniss’ face. Finnick tried to console her, knowing the two of them were the only ones with loved ones hostage in the capitol.

“Good.”

She looked to him, concerned and clearly unsure of herself.

“That’s good, Katniss.”

For the first time in a long time, there was a small smile on his face. There was hope again, however small.

“If Katniss Everdeen fails to fulfill her duties, the deal will be off.”

That look of fear and heartache returned to both of their faces as the people filed out of the hall. It occurred to Finnick as he made his way back to the infirmary that his spirits were rather fragile now. That night, when he was alone, words couldn’t help but escape his lips. Even with Coin’s speech, hope was hard to hold onto. Finnick sat on the floor of his room, leaning against the bed with his head hung low.

“Angel, how do you do it? How do you stay smiling? I’m trying, I promise.”

His voice was quiet, speaking words meant only for him and someone miles away.

“I’m so tired.”

He cried quietly to himself, though did eventually drift to sleep there on the floor.

Finnick recovered slowly. While Katniss was filming propos and being the Mockingjay, he was in the infirmary. He wallowed, but with every day came a little more hope. Katniss and Beetee sometimes came to see him, bringing news of the rebellion’s plans. Smiling got easier, as did picturing Sylke dancing. The idea that she would be alright seemed more and more true. When the phantom pains and memories of Sylke finally became manageable, he traded in his white gown for a grey jumpsuit.

The whole of thirteen gathered one night to watch Katniss’ new propo. He was horrified by the bombing, he was angry with Snow for uncountable reasons, what he was not was triumphant. At the end, the symbol of the mockingjay came onto the screen accompanied by a message. Join the fight. The crowd chanted their celebration like they won a war. That sort of victory song always felt misplaced to Finnick. Blaring horns and happy voices when people lie dead on the battlefield. People showering him with gifts and congratulations just after someone died in his arms. But that was what the propos were meant to do. He looked to Katniss beside him, and she had a similar look of confusion and discomfort.

“You don’t like hearing a fight song at a funeral, huh?”

She turned her head to look at him. He continued, reminding her and himself of what they needed to remember.

“The more people on our side, the closer we are to Sylke and Peeta.”

She nodded. No matter how icky it felt, this was what needed to be done.

The days passed with incredible monotony. Every day was exactly the same, the same schedule, the same people. The only variety came in the form of news, speeches, broadcasts. One night, Finnick visited Katniss in her room and they watched Peeta’s interview. He was crying, and he looked terrified. Finnick in a way envied her, for she able to see Peeta’s face and know that he was at least physically healthy. But he also knew that the pain of seeing him say everything they couldn’t believe in was a whole different world of pain and confusion. In the short time he knew Peeta, the subject of rebellion or even government never really came into conversation. It was the same with Sylke. Perhaps that was the worst part; that what Peeta was asking of Katniss and the rebels seemed entirely possible. From where he was standing, he just wanted the violence to stop. He was most certainly being fed information, being manipulated by the capitol, but the root of his argument was something understandable. It was almost reminiscent of Sylke’s words in her interview so long ago. She was never one for violence or combat. Ever since the beginning, she favoured diplomacy, kindness, and compromise. Finnick couldn’t help but wonder if Peeta’s words were even that treacherous. They were currently entrenched in desperate times, and thus desperate measures were called for. But later, they would need people like Peeta, like Sylke, to remind them of the value of compassion. Finnick made a small promise to himself, that he would try to be one of those people, at least when the fighting was over. If they managed to win, he was going to try to be like her. To be kind, to have mercy, and to offer grace.

The next day, he went with Katniss to hunt above ground. It was calming for both of them, getting to move and use the skills they had honed for years. That familiar feeling of a trident sinking into flesh, the thwip of an arrow as it flies through the air, it brought them comfort. They did eventually sit down too.

“I’m glad we were able to come out today. I think you needed this after last night.”

She nodded.

“I don’t like watching those broadcasts, but I can’t look away. He’s so different already. What are they doing to him?”

Finnick was quiet for a moment.

“I don’t know. I think that’s the worst part.”

“It is. They could be telling him to say all that stuff and threatening to kill him, or maybe they’re actually convincing him it’s true. I don’t know what’s better.”

“I don’t think there is a better. It’s all bad when it comes to Snow.”

She murmured agreement. They were quiet again, listening to the birds and the rustling trees. Nature has such an ability to soothe, with her ambient noise and dappled light. It made them feel safe enough to talk.

“Is it bad that I just want this to be over? Sometimes I think he’s right, that we should just give up. At least then I could see him again.”

“I don’t think that’s bad, Katniss. I think it’s human.”

She looked unsure of herself.

“You miss him. And you want to be with him, so you can know he’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Do you want it to be over?”

“Of course. I just want to know she’s safe. That safety could come with a ceasefire, or with victory.”

“Yeah. But a ceasefire means she goes back to that mansion.”

Finnick clicked his tongue and tilted his head in agreement.

“And that’s why I’m here. If we win, we wouldn’t just be safe, we’d be happy. I want her to be happy.”

Katniss smiled.

“I think I could be happy with him.”

They spent a few more hours talking in the forest, confiding in each other as the only other people who could relate, who knew this special sort of pain. Their afternoon in the forest was a nice respite, but they did eventually need to return to the concrete rooms under the earth.

After the attack on the dam, another interview was broadcast. Peeta called it inhuman, begged her to stop. He looked so genuinely terrified. But what he was scared of was unclear. There was something just behind the camera, something that instilled and powerful fear in him.

“They’re coming, Katniss. They’re gonna kill everyone. And in District Thirteen you’ll be dead by morning-“

The broadcast was cut off as he was dragged away. Sirens began to blare, people filed out to level forty. If there was panic in the air it was hard to detect. People were calm and orderly as they rushed down the stairs, perfectly trained soldiers. That is, until water rained from above and the lights went out. People screamed, ran, let go of order in favour of getting to the bunker. People would scream each time a blast hit. When the night grew quieter, no one slept. They just kept waiting for the cracks in the ceiling to widen, for the walls to cave in and for death to arrive. Finnick sat in one of the beds, fiddling with the gold bangle instead of rope, which he had given to Katniss during the bombing. She had looked like she needed it more than him. In the quiet of night, Katniss walked over and sat beside him.

“He’s taunting me, using Peeta to punish me. I didn’t understand until just now, watching that stupid cat.”

“Yeah. That’s why he took Sylke too.”

Finnick sighed before continuing.

“After your first Games, I thought the whole romance was an act. We all expected you’d continue that strategy. But it wasn’t until Peeta’s heart stopped and he almost died that…"

He looked at Katniss directly, hoping to convey just how sincere and vulnerable this conversation was for him. This sort of openness wasn't exactly natural to him, but it needed to be said, and right now, she needed to hear it.

"I misjudged you. You love him. Anyone paying attention can see it.”

“How do you live with it?”

“I’ve been doing it for ten years. For five of them I thought she was gone. I did the whole self-pity thing the first time around. I had nightmares-I still do. But you learn not to give in to it. It gets easier.”

She listened, nodding her head ever so slightly.

“But then it happened again. And it takes ten times longer to put yourself back together than it does to fall apart, you saw how long I was in the infirmary. But if Sylke taught me anything it’s that little joys can keep you alive. They kept her sane in that house, and they’ve kept me going down here.”

Katniss didn’t say anything. They sat in silence for a while, and once Finnick started nodding off, she went back to her sister and mother.

In the morning, she was gone and thirteen was buzzing with action. Finnick was sitting, anxiously waiting for something he could do to help. Beetee was working through the capitol’s electronic system or something, there was a rescue team setting up, and all Finnick could do was watch. He had signed up to be on the team, but as a refugee and not a soldier, they informed him that he couldn’t. By nightfall they finally had a job for him. He was going to be a distraction broadcast so they could jam the whole system, and the team could safely get it. He stood on a pile of rubble and white roses, with stagelights warming his skin.

“This is Finnick Odair, winner of the 65th Hunger Games. I’m coming to you from District 13, alive and well. We’ve survived an assault from the capitol. But I’m not here to give you recent news. Instead, I’m here to tell you the truth. The truth about the capitol.”

He continued for what felt like forever, indulging in his whole story, the one he only ever told Sylke. The story of how after he turned sixteen, he was sold like a commodity to socialites in the capitol. That he wasn’t the only one, and if you refused, your loved ones were killed. That there was one girl who was dead to the rest of the world, but Snow brought her back just to sell her.

“Remember Sylke Fairinan? She was your princess. You dressed her up in fancy gowns and gold tiaras before she went into the arena. I felt her die in my arms. And then they started her heart back up and sold to the highest bidder. Lycan Indigo. He kept her like a doll, locked in a mansion for ten years. She’s alive. You kept your princess in a gilded cage. And what's worse, after ten years in that place, after slowly learning to find happiness there, you've taken her from it again. President Snow is holding her hostage, to taunt me. He is not the kind man he shows himself to be.”

Finnick kept going. He revealed Snow’s history of poison and assignation, the reason behind his heavy perfume, the bloody sores in his mouth, every secret he knew was a secret no longer. As he spoke, one or the people behind the camera spoke up.

“Okay, you can stop.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Yeah, it looks like they’re broadcasting Katniss now.”

Finnick nodded, unsure of what was going on. They went back down to find everyone looking incredibly distraught. He and Katniss sat in a room, silent, waiting for news. He once again had the rope in his hands, tying and untying knots to keep his hands busy. He had to think she was safe. He had to. Cause if he considered for even a moment that she wasn’t, he’d fall apart again. When Haymitch opened the door, their eyes show up.

“They’re back.”

All that needed to be said for them to get up and sprint to the landing area. Johanna was the first one they saw. She was gaunt, her head shaved, but a smirk was still on her face. And then he heard it.

“Finnick? Finnick!”

That voice he hadn’t stopped hearing for ages, but only ever in his head. Her name fell from his mouth involuntarily, quietly questioning if it was real as he ran towards the source of her voice. Later, people would tell him that they said each other’s names perhaps a thousand times in that single exchange. He would notice later that she looked weak, her hair was longer and had lost some of it’s shine, and that despite all that her spirit had in no way dimmed. Her eyes had lit up when she saw him walk in the room. And suddenly, it was as if there was no one in the world but the two do them, crashing through space to reach each other. They collided and lost balance, slamming against a wall, but they stayed there, clinging into one being. Indivisible. He whispered like he didn’t believe it.

“You’re safe…”

She pulled her head out from his embrace to look at him, nodding with a smile. Whether they were smiling or laughing or crying, even they didn’t know. Words fail to describe the joy, the relief, the wonder of being back together. When heart rates slowed and the dust settled, they finally spoke. Finnick had a smile the magnitude of which hadn’t touched his face in far too long.

“Hi.”

“Hi. It’s been a minute.”

As though they were one being, they burst into simultaneous and gentle laughter.

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m okay. They beat me up a little, but I’ll be alright.”

“They what?”

Finnick’s voice was hoarse, breathy. He knew that they would do that, and yet in that moment he couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that someone would ever want to hurt her. Not even Mr. Indigo did that. But her smile clearly wasn’t gone. With a voice laced with affection, she put a hand against his cheek and reassured him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You guys got me out before they started my ‘treatment’. I’ll be just fine, I promise.”

“We should get you to the infirmary.”

“Okay.”

Still refusing to stop touching her, Finnick scooped her into his arms and carried her himself to the infirmary. On the way there, her head was nuzzled in the crook of his neck.

“I was right, you know.”

“Hmm? How?”

“I knew you’d come back to me. You didn’t win, but you didn’t have to. I told you, didn’t I?”

“You did. You were right to hope.”

She laughed to herself, closing her eyes. Even with her sunny disposition, her body was clearly exhausted.

“Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

As her body melted further into his and her breathing slowed, he continued walking. They didn’t put her in a room, apparently her condition wasn’t that bad, so she would only need a bed for a few days. Mostly bruises, a couple of open wounds, but nothing bad.

When she woke up, she found herself in a cold room devoid of colour. For a moment, she wondered if it was a dream. Sitting up, she looked around. Finnick wasn’t there, and neither was anyone else. The curtains were drawn. Had they moved her to a new place? We’re they starting her treatment? She hastily removed the IV from her arm, leaving the patch with the needle and luer connector, but no tubing. Whatever they were pumping into her needed to stop there.

“Johanna? Peeta?”

Silence. She heard faint chatter from just outside, doctors or scientists getting ready. Hesitant feet touched the ground. Her fingers brushed against the thin fabric of the curtain. Fear kept her from grasping it. What would she see on the other side? There was hope in her still that she was safe, that she wasn’t in the capitol anymore, but what if she was wrong? What if she was still there, destined to be Syren Indigo? What if she was wrong to hope?

“Hello?”

She heard footsteps. Fearing the scolding that might come should they find her out of bed, she laid back down and put the IV back against the luer connector, though not actually placing it inside. Hopefully she’d be able to fool them. The footsteps got louder. It wasn’t necessary, but she wasn’t ready to face them yet, so she relaxed her body and closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. She heard metal rings scraping against a pole as the curtain was opened.

“Sylke?”

That was his voice. She wanted to open her eyes, see him, but what if it was a lie? What if this was the start of her treatment? She heard how it started with Peeta. They played him altered clips and all sorts of things. What if this was one of those?

“Oh. You’re still asleep.”

A chair was pulled up, and someone sat down. A warm hand smoothed out her hair. She took a long inhale. No perfume. The hand then gently rested on hers. She knew that touch, and it made her flinch. But still terrified, she kept her eyes closed. The technology of the capitol could do anything.

“Sylke? Are you awake?”

That was his voice. He sounded so real. Even if it wasn’t him, couldn’t she take a look? Even if it was fake, couldn’t she see his face again? That voice of temptation was so loud. What would be the worst that could happen? They were going to wake her up anyway. Slowly, hesitantly, she opened her eyes. And there he was. With those lovely green eyes staring right back at her.

“Hey, Angel. How are you feeling?”

She frantically searched his eyes, before looking to everything else around her. His eyes looked right. His face too. He was in a grey jumpsuit. Everything else was grey too. Behind him was what the curtain used to cover. It looked like a hospital. It was quiet, but not deadly silent. It didn’t look the same. The walls weren’t pristine white, they were concrete. The lights would flicker every now and then, nothing seemed quite perfect like it was before.

“Angel? Is everything alright?”

She looked back at him with terror in her eyes.

“Are you real? Are you really here?”

He moved closer to her, with nothing but love and affection in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m real. We’re safe. We’re in thirteen, remember?”

“We are?”

“Mhmm. You’re in the infirmary right now, but they said you can be discharged in a day or two.”

He looked at the IV lying unconnected at her arm, and plugged it back in with a chuckle.

“That is, if you actually listen to the doctors and take the meds they give you.”

She smiled, a sad, bittersweet smile.

“How come you unplugged it?”

“I… I thought I was in the capitol. I thought they had moved me to start my treatment.”

“You said that earlier too. What treatment?”

“I’m not entirely sure, I didn’t hear all of it. But Mr. Indigo… when he visited me-“

“He came to see you?”

“Yeah. Almost every day for maybe an hour, he’d come in and talk to me, make sure they were treating me well, he even snuck in a couple things for me once. More recently he started mentioning the treatment. Said he talked to the doctors and convinced them to let me get the help I needed, so I wouldn’t be starting fires in my room anymore. And he said it would make me a real Indigo if I wasn’t already. I remember the words.

‘Syren Indigo. Got a nice ring to it, don’t it?’

I heard what they were doing to Peeta. I figured they’d do something similar to me. He wanted me to be his daughter.”

“Oh Sylke…”

The words to be said evaded him and he was left with only actions. He stood up and walked over to the bed, gesturing that she move over. She did, and he crawled under the covers, holding her close in his arms. His embrace was warm, comforting, familiar.

“Finnick. I don’t want to forget you. I don’t want to forget.”

He held her even tighter, placing a kiss on her head.

“You won’t, I promise. I’ll make sure of it. You remember how to waltz?”

She looked at him with a grin.

“Of course.”

“Then get up.”

He got out of the bed and offered his hand. The moment she took it, he placed a hand on her waist, pulling her close. With his other hand, he grabbed the pole on wheels from which a bag of saline fluid hung. Sylke rested her hand by his neck and with the other room Finnick’s hand, holding the pole as well.

“Do you remember?”

“I couldn’t possibly let myself forget. Not when I still owed you a dance.”

And with that, they swayed about the section of the room she had been allotted. It was just like she taught him that night, all those years ago. One, two, three, brush, one, two, three, brush. Swept up in the music they heard in their heads, the dance continued. He spun her around, lifted her off the floor, and always right on the downbeat. It ended when they let go of the pole and it rolled too far away. Sylke felt a sharp tug at her arm and the imaginary music stopped.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just maybe we should be more careful."

“Sorry. I guess I got a little carried away.”

Sylke laughed, wrapping her arms up by his neck.

“We both did. Once I’m out of here, we’ll get to dance properly.”

Finnick nodded.

“Soon.”

Finnick did eventually have to leave and resume his schedule. Sylke went back to sleep, clutching a pillow in his stead. Slowly but surely, a new world faded in. Her limbs were blocky, solid, and utterly incapable of movement. All that she had control over was her eyes, glancing around. In her periphery, she was able to figure out what exactly she was. She was a marionette, strung up on a stage. In the audience, right there in the front row, we’re the cold, wolf-like eyes of Mr. Indigo. He was watching her, with a hideous, inhuman grin. And then the music started. It was plucky, out of tune, like a harpsichord left untouched for ages. And she began to dance. Her arms and legs flailed about, and her torso was yanked up and down. She couldn’t open her mouth or even breathe, and yet somehow she kept moving. This dancing cage of hers moved without life or spirit. It had no bones, no muscle, only string that extended up into the vague darkness above.

Sylke didn’t wake up screaming or yelling. Her eyes merely flew open, tears already pouring down her face. Sniffling and quietly sobbing, she sat up and clutched the pillow in her arms. Johanna, from the neighboring bed, spoke up. Her tone was harsh, unsympathetic.

“What are you crying about?”

“I-I just had a bad dream.”

“Yeah? What about?”

“Mr. Indigo. He was looking at me, and I just…”

Words dissolved into sniffles. Johanna just laughed. There was venom in her voice when she spoke.

“Your scared of him? Seriously? That man visited you almost every day. He was so good to you-“

Heartache emerged from her throat.

“He loved you!”

A whimper escaped from Sylke and she clutched the pillow even tighter.

“But he…”

“He what? I heard him talk about you, he had nothing but love for you.”

"Please don't say that..."

She kept going, words flowing like a river from her mouth, with no hesitation or tact.

“Are you really that ungrateful? Everything he did was for you…”

She paused for a moment, a devilish smile growing on her face.

“… for his little Syren.”

“Please, just stop…”

Sylke took a shaky breath, shifting to look at Johanna straight on.

“I never asked for his love. I know he’s the reason I’m still alive, I know that it could have been worse. But that man took my life and made it his.”

The shaking stopped. Sylke regained her composure. She stood up and walked to Johanna’s bed, sitting down next to her. Their time in the capitol made them quite familiar with one another’s hardships. Sylke knew exactly where these words were coming from. She knew why Johanna was hurting, she knew that when one has no one, even unwanted love seems desirable. And so she spoke gently, hoping her empathy would be understood as such, rather than pity.

“Mr. Indigo didn’t love me as a person. He didn’t care if I was happy, so long as I provided entertainment. That’s not how you’re supposed to love someone.”

Johanna nodded, saying nothing. She knew she overstepped, she knew her words were impulsive. And now suddenly she felt a little guilty. Sylke had appealed to her humanity with just a few sentences.

“I know. It just hurts, you know?”

“I know.”

Sylke murmured more validation, placing her head on Johanna’s shoulder. She wanted to say that Johanna had friends here, people who loved her, but decided to let it be quiet. She’d say it some other time.

Sylke’s wounds took very little time in healing. She only needed to stay in the infirmary until the larger wounds had closed up, which didn’t take long. Really, they only worried about the cut on her side. She remembered when it was made. The blade was jagged and dull, dragging across her skin at a snail’s pace, over and over again. They asked her with every stroke what she knew. Of course Finnick hadn’t told her about the plan, she barely even knew he was a rebel. But they kept going. First there was a raised line of red, where the skin was raw and irritated. The blade tore further into her skin, but drew no blood. They grabbed her arms with and iron grip and threw her back into her cell, earning her a couple bruises. Once there was a film of yellow scabbing, they took her back out. Slowly, and again with the questions, they peeled it. With the layer of platelets gone, blood dribbled out of the wound. The flesh beneath was tender, and they took advantage of that. She answered each question honestly, but they didn’t like what she said. And with each answer they didn’t like, she received another swipe against her side with the jagged blade. Eventually, they gave up on trying to get information out of her. Sometimes they would try again, but never to that degree.

Now, she had a bandage wrapped around that area, gently changed and cleaned every couple of hours. The doctors were kind here, always making sure it was alright to touch her and asking if the bandage was too tight. Under their care, the wound closed up in no time. By then, all of her smaller cuts and bruises left only fading scars. Soon, she was given a drab grey jumpsuit and assigned to new quarters. It was a small room not unlike the infirmary in style. There were two small beds and a table between them, one bed for her and the other for a roommate. After guiding her to the room, the nurse previously assigned to her shut the door, leaving her alone in that room. She did not hear the click of a lock. Her schedule was to start tomorrow, for now she could settle in and find a place in the room for any personal items. Of course she had none, but curiosity led her to peak at her roommate’s. Everything was neat, folded, as though it was never lived in. The only signs of a human’s stay there were a couple of items on the table, seemingly the only personal items this roommate of hers had. Perhaps they were a refugee as well, with only a moment to have gathered items of sentimental value. Or perhaps residents of thirteen simply didn’t value material possessions all that much. Considering the lack of decor and personality in all parts of the place she had seen, that was in fact the case. Sylke allowed herself to fantasise for a moment about who this person might be. A coal miner from twelve? She had always wanted to see a forest, maybe they could tell her about them. A soldier from thirteen? One who had trained their whole life for combat, for revolution, and now finally had the chance to prove themselves? Or perhaps another refugee from the capitol. What if she knew them? What if one of the few people she was able to meet in the capitol had been a rebel, one who took a chance one night and ran away? They could exchange life stories, maybe become friends. But none of those turned out to be true. On the table, she found a golden bangle and a short bit of rope, neither of which told her about this person. She sat on one of the beds, hopefully the unoccupied one, and waited. She wasn’t tired, she’d slept plenty in the infirmary. So she sat, waiting for something to happen. The door slid open to reveal her roommate.

“Finnick?”

He chuckled.

“I asked them to put you in as my roommate, I didn’t know they’d actually do it. How are you feeling?”

“Good. Everything’s healing well, so I they discharged me this afternoon. I do still have to keep it bandaged, but the wound is much smaller now.”

“That’s great!”

He walked over to the bed and stood before here, a smile adorning his face.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you here with me.”

She leaned into his touch as he caressed her cheek. The words “I love you” were not needed in that moment. There was a mutual understanding of affection, one that had been there for ten years. Though not entirely true, retrospect and nostalgia had a way of convincing both of them that it had always been this way, that this familiarity and affection was present since that first night they met. In some ways this was correct, there was always a connection. But the comfort in it had developed over time. Insecurity was able to fade away, they became more familiar with the other’s habits. And yet wonder was not lost. There was still a glimmer of shock, of flustered joy in moments of affection. Things between them weren’t perfect, but they were damn well close to it.

Sylke’s task in thirteen was to help in the kitchen. The food was boring, seasoned only with salt, and they often stirred in powders of vitamin supplements or something of that nature, because the people down here rarely saw the sun. She spent her days standing beside people she found to be kind, talkative in comparison to the Indigo household staff, and generally pleasant company. Life was certainly monotonous, but that was something she was used to. At least now, she wasn’t alone. During mealtimes, she would serve the food, watching everyone eat and chat from afar. On occasion, she would sneak away and sit by Finnick, but that often got her scolded by someone who cared far too much for rules. At the end of the day, the whole facility would get dimmer, and she would be back in her room with Finnick. The beds were made for one person, but they made it work for the both of them. In the mornings, she would wake up before him, needing to go and prepare breakfast. His arms held her tightly, unwilling to let go.

“Finnick, I need to go.”

His voice was deep, raspy, and barely awake.

“I don’t want you to go.”

She giggled and pressed a kiss to his jaw. His eyes were still closed, but a satisfied grin appeared on his face.

“Fine. Two minutes, and then I really have to go.”

He groaned, considering her offer, the sound vibrating through his chest.

“Okay.”

Running his fingers up her body, he attempted to feel for her face, too tired to open his eyes. His touch was gentle and yet possessive, still unwilling to let go. Once he found her jaw, he pulled it closer and planted endless kisses on her face. At some point, his eyes fluttered open. He was confronted with the image of her smile, a little tired and a little exasperated, but undeniably lovely.

“You’re beautiful.”

A little colour came to her cheeks.

“You know, you can’t keep me here forever. Do you want food today or not?”

He let a sigh as she got up from the bed.

“Alright fine, I concede. Just one more kiss though.”

She laughed, leaning down to peck his forehead before leaving. Once alone, Finnick’s mind couldn’t help but fantasise about waking up with her every day, and not having to rush off somewhere.

The explicit concept of marriage had come up only once or twice in their five years of exchanging letters. Far more common was talk of a hypothetical life they would have one day. A wedding was implied, but never really stated outright. Instead, they talked about days without urgency, when they could lie in bed for hours, dance in the kitchen instead of cooking, fall asleep on the beach, and all of this simply because they wanted to. But as the danger of revolution increased, both of them began thinking about the specifics of that vague life together. It didn’t take Finnick long to understand that he wanted to marry her. He mentioned it one night when the room felt quiet and too awake.

“Hey,”

“Hmm?”

“Would you want to get married? I know we’ve talked about being together, when it’s all over, but what if we did it now?”

She looked to him with wide doe-eyes.

“Now?”

“I mean here, in thirteen. Before anything happens-before anything possibly could happen. Just in case.”

She took a moment to think, sinking into his chest. If she had been falling asleep before, she was wide awake now.

“Okay. Just in case.”

“Yeah. That way if something happens, I’ll have been married to you. Another thing to help prove to the world that you’re here, and that I’m yours.”

She lifted herself to prop her head up on her hand, smiling at him. He soon followed, staring lovingly back at her.

“I like the sound of that.”

She placed a kiss on his lips.

“But nothing’s going to happen to you, okay?”

That was partially a lie. There was a reason they were doing this, a risk, and they both knew it. But after everything they’d been through, fate had to be in their favour. It would simply be wrong, to have done all of this, just to lose their happily ever after.

She reassumed her position lying on his chest after that, speaking softly to him, but also to herself.

“I used to picture my wedding, you know. When I was little, I had this image in my head of a white dress and a castle and a ballroom, like in the fairytales. I didn’t know who would be my prince or princess charming, but I knew that I’d love them. That was always the best part. I know we won’t be in a castle, but in a way it’ll be exactly like how I dreamed of as a child.”

He was falling asleep by that point. She lifted herself to look at his peaceful face. He looked calm and safe, lying next to her like he was sure, like everything in the world assured him, that this is where he was supposed to be.

“I love you, my prince.”

Plutarch explained that the wedding was going to be filmed. “To show the capitol that we’re alive and well” he said. Because of that, they were allowed all sorts of luxuries that thirteen didn’t usually permit. The hall was glowing with amber light and greenery they brought in from above. Finnick was dressed in a lighter grey than usual, with sturdy fabric that hugged his waist but got a little looser at the shoulders. He was also given something of a cape, but it only covered one shoulder. He looked somewhere between a soldier and a duke. For Sylke they made a dress fit for a princess. White of course, a colour held with some disdain in thirteen. The skirt was long and full, trailing behind her every so slightly when she walked. It was simple, no layers of tulle or golden jewelry to match, but it made her feel like herself, entirely herself, which was really all it needed to be. It felt like all of her, nothing held back or exaggerated for anyone.

She made her way alone down the aisle, smiling at the man ahead, the destination toward which she walked. He took her hands in his, this time with no iron bars between them. She looked into his green eyes, like she had so many times before, and everything felt right in the world. There was no sunlight or gentle breeze, no magnolias or birdsong, but there didn’t need to be. He was here, looking back at her with all the love in the world. When it came time for her to say her vows, she had very little prepared. She spoke truthfully, freely, saying everything that her heart told her to say in that moment.

“My darling Finnick. I’ve said to you before that I believe in fate. We were just kids when we met, and even then, I knew my story was tied to yours. I promise to love you, to cherish you, and to be by your side for the rest of happily ever after that fate allows.”

The smile on his face grew before he took a breath and said his vows.

“Sylke, my angel, you have my heart, as you always have, for all eternity. Whether together or apart, we will always be united, tied together by the strings of fate. I promise to protect you, to dance with you, and to love you until death do us part.”

They didn’t quite need to be told that they could kiss, but once prompted, they did just that. All of thirteen began to applaud, but neither Sylke nor Finnick could bring themself to care for the audience. Just as it had ten years ago, the watching eyes melted away, leaving only tenderness and love burning between the them.

The festivities began once the aisle and ceremonial decor was packed away. First was a slow waltz meant just for the newlyweds. The two of them had danced in their room many times before, but never with music. With a guiding melody, they were able to truly get lost in the movement. No longer was it necessary to count or concentrate, they could simply dance. They swayed and twirled about the room, never once breaking eye contact. When the music slowed to a halt, Sylke was securely nested in Finnick’s arms and lowered to a dip. There was once again applause as people came to join them on the dance floor. A more upbeat tune filled the hall as everyone started to dance. The sound of lively fiddles filled the room, and spirits were lifted. It seemed like everyone was having a lovely time, smiling and laughing with friends. For that night, war was but an afterthought. It was a respite from tragedy, a true celebration of all that is good and lovely, and its survival even in dark times.

It wasn’t long after the wedding that Finnick was sent away again. He and Sylke had a rather lousy honeymoon, spent mostly in their room underground or in the forest just above. Soldiers were slowly returning from the fight at the capitol, some injured, others returning for a dignified burial. Sylke was transferred to the infirmary when it got too understaffed. And then Plutarch called Finnick into a meeting. That night, Finnick sat waiting in their room until Sylke returned from her shift in the infirmary. She entered the room and gravitated to his hunched figure.

“Finnick, are you alright?”

She placed a hand to his face, suggesting that he look at her. His eyes were sad, conflicted, scared. Sylke saw his expression and quickly kissed him before anything more could be said.

“What happened?”

He shifted to make space for her on the bed; she sat down.

“Plutarch wants me in the capitol. They put together this squad for filming propos, he calls it the face of the invasion.”

He spoke so matter-of-factly, such that it was hardly a question: he would be going. There was no debate about it, both of them knew that. An all too familiar feeling churned in her core. Her chest became heavy and her throat strained. She croaked out a single sentence before leaning into his embrace.

“Come back to me, okay?”

He held her tightly, the way he wanted to that night outside the mansion.

“I will. I believe in fate.”

They fell asleep there, unsure when the trembling cries faded into unconsciousness.

Finnick left in the morning. Goodbyes were cut short by the arrival of a jet full of wounded soldiers. Sylke was pulled away by the other medical staff, parting with a fleeting kiss and a smile.

The infirmary was bursting with people. New patients arrived every day from the capitol, covered in wounds and burns and horror stories from the city. They told of abandoned streets full of bombs and traps set by peacekeepers. Every moment of peace or quiet we’re impossible to trust, they were left waiting for the inevitable bloodshed as they walked through empty streets. Sylke couldn’t help but wonder the state of the mansion. Had Mr. Indigo evacuated? What did he take with him? She pictured the house empty, devoid of the usual upkeep, dusty and alone. What about the household? Had they gone as well? What would they do without their jobs? Did that even matter when the city was under attack? Her imagination took her through each room and corridor. The office she’d only been in a few times, the dining room that could seat a dozen but never saw more than two, and of course, her bedroom. Soot still on the ceiling, dance slippers tucked hastily under the bed. The soldiers mentioned bombs and fire. What if the mansion was destroyed? The image of fallen walls, a pile of rubble and ash, arrived in her mind. A bittersweet sort of pain burned in her chest as she pondered such a possibility. That mansion was her prison, her gilded cage. And yet there were happy memories there. There were times when she smiled, dancing around her room or strolling through the garden. She found joy in that wretched place and thus made it slightly less wretched. The delicate China in the sitting room was beautiful, with hand-painted birds and flowers under the faintly cracked glaze. The furniture was soft, velvet or leather or brocade, but always unreasonably comfortable. And of course the magnolias. Those fragrant blossoms could distract her from everything bad. A lovely part of being human, isn’t it? The ability to be distracted, to find small joys, even trapped in a cage. She pondered all the things she loved in that house. The drapes and the garden and smooth feeling of the banister beneath her fingers as she walked down the stairs, all things she missed now. Was it bad that she missed it? Was that terrible, to think somewhat fondly of her time in the mansion? A part of her was sure that it was simply horrible. Mr. Indigo was a dangerous, horrible man, and thus his home was the same way. But he also gave her dancing slippers. He cared for her in his twisted, infantalising way. Johanna’s words sounded in her head. Perhaps, in a strange interpretation of the word, he loved her. Sylke couldn’t bring herself to fully accept that idea. Love was the tenderness she saw in Finnick’s eyes, it was the warmth in her chest when they were close, she was entirely and unequivocally sure of that. But as time went on, she continued to wonder, her mind volleying standpoints, if Mr. Indigo’s bizarre affection was also love.

Such thoughts bounced around the back of her head as she tended to those in the infirmary. Days slowly bled into one another, all monotonous and practically identical. She would wake up alone, eat with some of the other medics, and then go to the infirmary. After a long day, she would return to her quarters and lie on her side, reaching her arm out to where Finnick would have been lying beside her. And when the foggy darkness of sleep arrived, the day would begin again.

News from the capitol came every night. The whole of thirteen would go quiet the watching broadcasts. Just a day after they deemed Peeta well enough to join the “Star Squad” in the Capitol, that infamous anthem blared from the broadcast. The faces of every member of the squad was shown. Sylke had been working when it came on the screens. All faces looked to the screen in the room, stepping away from their work for a moment. She froze when she saw Finnick’s portrait appear. She hadn’t seen his face is so long, too long, but this was not the way she wanted to see him again. He couldn’t be dead, he promised. Why, after all this time, why now? After all the trials they encountered and survive, how could it end? Something was wrong, it was simply wrong. Fate wasn’t supposed to be like this, fate couldn’t be like this.

You said you would come back to me

Her perception of the world was cloudy. The hands on her shoulder, the steps she was taking, they didn’t register. Voices were muddled, nothing felt real. All she could do was mutter his name, repeat the same phrases, praying that someone would hear her, some great puppet master who could pull the strings of fate and make them right again. Her murmurs became sobs, and when her eyes were dry, when her energy was drained, she could finally sleep.

She woke to a sharp voice and someone shaking her awake.

“Sylke, get up!”

She pulled herself up, groggy and confused. For a moment, it was just like any other morning, and she almost bolted up, afraid of being late for the start of her shift. But then her vision cleared, and reality set in. She saw the medic uniform she was still wearing and the sad look on Johanna’s face.

“What happened?”

Johanna’s tone was careful and sympathetic.

“You kinda lost it after the broadcast. Don’t worry, you didn’t hurt anyone or do anything bad, you just kinda froze. We didn’t know what else to do, so we just took you here to rest.”

Sylke nodded, not quite sure if she could bring herself to stand up and start her day, as though nothing happened.

“What time is it?”

“I don’t even know. But they’re calling all the medics right now, so…”

Sylke didn’t move.

“They’re flying you guys out to the capitol.”

She still didn’t move.

“Sylke, that means you need to go.”

“I know… I just…”

Johanna placed her hands on Sylke’s shoulders and looked her square in the eyes.

“Look. I know you’re hurting. I know you just lost someone. It’s not the same but I lost him too. But Sylke we’re so close. And people are hurting in the capitol that don’t need to be. We need you to go out and help them.”

Sylke took a shaky inhale and nodded. With Johanna’s help, she made her way down to the hanger where medics were streaming into jets and strapping into their seats. Sylke followed suit, getting her jet assignment and sitting down on a cold metal chair.

The flight was a blur. They landed in district two and waited until the final stages of the battle to fly into the capitol to help innocent citizens. Soon, they were flown in and dropped off in the city circle. When the cries of countless people reached her ears, helping them became Sylke’s sole priority. The moment her feet touched the ground, she rushed to anyone and everyone that looked hurt.

“Are you hurt? Are you alright?”

“Where does it hurt? Are you bleeding?”

“Let me take a look.”

She was wrapping a splint for a woman with a broken leg when a familiar chime rang through the air. She looked up to see grey canisters on parachutes floating down from the sky. She froze again, remembering everything from years ago. She remembered the way Finnick’s eyes lit up when he saw a trident float down on an identical grey parachute. That had always been a sweet memory, but now it was laced with pain. She looked around, seeing the people stretching their arms out, welcoming the gifts. There was a flash, a boom, and then quiet.

Sylke’s eyes slowly fluttered open. She was lying on her back, on something soft and comfortable. There was quiet. A peaceful, calming sort of silence surrounded her. She noticed pain on her skin when she tried to get up. Her body was bandaged in random places, and the flesh of her arms and hands felt incredibly sensitive. Her body was sore, but she could move, albeit only slightly. She turned her head to look at her surroundings. She was in a tent, seemingly a medical tent, surrounded by equipment and kits she recognised as the portable medic kits that each person on the jet had been equipped with. Turning her head to look directly to the side, she saw someone lying in a bed like her own. They looked like him. Beneath the bandages she saw his face, sleeping peacefully with his eyes closed. She longed to believe that it was him, to enjoy that delusion and ignorance. But she knew it wasn’t. She knew he was gone. He wasn’t there, no matter how much she wanted him to be, no matter how much he should have been. Tears formed and fell quickly from her eyes. Quiet wails and sobs escaped her. She murmured his name, hoping beyond hope that it would will him back to life. The person in the bed began to rouse.

“Hmm?”

They sounded like him too, why did they have to sound like him? She curled into herself, ignoring the pain in such movement. She hid herself beneath the blanket, like a child afraid of the monsters beneath their bed.

“Hey, are you alright?”

That was his voice.

“Why do you sound like him?”

She wailed with a volume she hadn’t used in days.

“Sylke?”

“You sound just like him…”

Her whole body shook with sobs. She heard fabric rustling and quiet groans that sounded so familiar. There was a hand on the edge of the blanket.

“Can I…?”

“Go ahead.”

Her voice was dejected, entirely hopeless. The blanket was pulled away, revealing a face with cuts and bandages, seemingly some stitches as well, and sea green eyes holding a tender gaze.

“You look like him too.”

“Angel… I’m right here.”

“No you’re not! You died! I saw your picture, I heard the song, you died!”

“Oh sweetheart…”

The person sat down on the bed and gently lifted her to sit up as well. They then pulled her into their arms. That warmth was exactly the same.

“I’m right here, I’m alive. I got damn near dying, but I didn’t. I told you I’d come back to you, didn’t I?”

Finally, she let herself believe. Her grasp on him tightened.

“You’re alive? You’re safe?”

“I’m alive. I’m right here, Angel.”

A part of her still couldn’t believe it. Somehow, there was a shard of pessimism in her that refused to be tricked. And he could sense that. He understood all too well the spirit of self preservation that will do anything to keep itself from hurting. So he pulled away slightly to look at her.

“Hey, look at me, look at my eyes.”

She gazed up at him with scared, teary doe-eyes.

“Don’t you believe in fate?”

And with that, the last bit of denial shattered within her. A smile and then a laugh came to her face as hope returned to her spirit.

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