#the one good thing my home state has ever done

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

looking up if trans women could marry men in the 80s for. No Particular Reason. the answer is yes, in new jersey at least. look at us, jersey boys stay winning

[cosmictheo]

𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 | 𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦

(gif credits to @peace--n--love)

— summary: ao'nung calls you the way neteyam usually calls you, which makes him feel jealous and insecure, but that finally pushes him to confess something he has been feeling for too long. — pairing: neteyam x female!na'vi!reader — word count: 2k —warnings: pure and comforting fluff, ao'nung being ao'nung (an idiot), love confessions, jealous!neteyam, neteyam being the purest and most beautiful angel.

* Neteyam is aged up, for obvious reasons, of course; he is 19 years old. * Sluyang means flower.

neteyam's playlist i made for inspo

writer's note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

You liked to observe the beauty that Eywa gave to Pandora, you were still surprised by how beautiful the forest and the places it could hide, even after having grown up there and having been all those years among its leafy trees, even so, the forest hid secret and beautiful places, worthy of being seen and found by only those chosen ones.

Your mother was sure that you had a special connection with Eywa, practically since the day you were born and opened your eyes for the first time, green as a pair of emeralds. She told you that you had come into the world for a purpose, that you were Eywa's chosen one, in fact, those were her last words to you before she passed away in your arms, haunted all her life by an illness from which she never got better. And since then, Jake and Neytiri had taken care of you, accepting you into their family as if you had always been one of them. You soon became close to their children, especially with Neteyam, as you were close in age.

And because of that special fascination you had for the forest and nature in general, Neteyam made a habit of always bringing you things from his many explorations and hunts, things that reminded him of you; flowers, leaves and even rocks, bright and beautiful, out of the ordinary, that stood out among everything else, just like you.

“You don't have to, 'Teyam.” You always said every time he came to you once again with a new gift. But he would simply shake his head, offering you a charming and gentle little smile, ever so kind, ears slightly bent and gaze so bright every time he met yours that it seemed to dazzle you, leaving you completely mesmerized.

With a coy smile you tried to avert your gaze from his, analyzing the object now in your hands. “Really, it's not necessary.”

“I like to do it.” He would simply reply, seeking your gaze with his big, captivating, coaxing eyes, as if it were something insignificant, something that didn't matter, something that wasn't like the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you. And you would do nothing but grin at him. You couldn't stop smiling, your cheeks felt almost numb, but you were happy, content, he made you happy. And you knew that this, in the long run, would bring serious consequences, not so good, you supposed.

And now, in the huge ocean, when you thought nothing would surprise you anymore, Eywa seemed to turn every assumption you had upside down. Jake had taken you with him and his family to the place where the Metkayina Clan lived, leaving the Omaticaya behind, leaving the shelter that the forest offered you, to now be surrounded by the ocean; salt water and sandy land.

They had been kind enough to accept you into their home and to show you their ways, noting the great difference from your own, but, apparently the younger members of the clan were not as friendly to strangers as the older ones.

Ao'nung had been rather harsh with you, especially Kiri, whom they had addressed as a freak, as they had nicknamed her, and from there, the problem grew larger, for you and Lo'ak had taken up against them in her defense.

“Look at her.” Ao'nung called out, following Kiri like prey, looking at her with big, disgusted eyes. “Is she a freak or something?”

“Don't call her that.” You stated in a not at all friendly tone, scowl and defiant eyes looking up at the chief's son, pointing at him with your index finger and thus causing him to move backwards. “You have no right to call her that, did you hear me? The Chief's son or not, I'll kick your ass.”

With a tilt of your head, you stated the threat, making him snort ungraciously, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“For such a pretty little girl, you sure have a big mouth.” His big eyes narrowed as he spoke, demonstrating a smug attitude as he heard a couple of snickers from his little friends at his words. “You are one of us, little flower. Why you waste your time hanging out with these aliens?”

“Hey!” Lo'ak exclaimed, appearing at your side, fists clenched and face angry. “Don't call her that, get away from her!”

“Please, leave us alone.” Kiri grumbled behind your back, hearing how now, you were the target of annoyance from the little group.

Your mouth hung open wide, totally offended now, feeling the fury shake your body from head to toe, your tail wagging angrily as you lunged at him at the same time you heard an 'oh uh' from Lo'ak.

But your movement was halted as you watched as a body larger than yours stepped between you and the bully, leaving you in view of nothing but a broad back you knew all too well and blocking Ao'nung's smug, sneering face from your view.

“That's enough.” Neteyam said in a stern tone, deep voice and tense body, always as diplomatic and calm as ever, braids moving under the command of the wind and his head, which rose slightly, giving him a more stern and much more menacing stance. “As long as we are here you will treat my family with respect and call no one by other than their names.”

His head moved so that he could look at the faces of the little group that had formed, friends of Ao'nung, as silly as he was, apparently, but who, in Neteyam's presence, seemed to have been brought back to reality and put back in their places. They were not so foolish after all, they knew that against him they would have no choice but to flee. Cowards.

“(Y/N) is just fine for you, got it?”

“Whatever.” Ao'nung replied, rolling his eyes and starting to walk, bumping his shoulder against Neteyam's as he walked past him, his eyes met yours for a couple of seconds and he offered you a smirk, making you grunt and by the time you could take a step towards him, a hand found itself on your forearm, stopping any act of violence you had planned to do.

“Cowards.” Kiri spat, rolling her eyes.

When you looked back, Neteyam was looking at you with eyes, dark, but now filled with concern, his fingers barely caressing your skin before he pulled away from your arm.

“Are you okay, syulang?”

You rolled your eyes, sighing heavily. “I'd be better if I'd beaten that skxawng—”

“Hey.” He interrupted you, noticing how your ears were still bent and your tail twitching behind your back and he laid both of his hands on your shoulders now, in an attempt to reassure you, giving you delicate petting strokes. “It's okay, it's all over now.” His gaze traveled to his siblings behind you, moving his head and face transforming to one of authority, chin up. His voice came through loud and clear, almost scolding. “Home, now. You've had a lot for today.”

Lo'ak lifted his hands, looking incredulous. “But they were bugging-”

Neteyam was quick to interrupt him. “Home. We will talk to father later.”

The younger boy let out a snarl and without further ado, began walking back to where his family was staying, followed closely by Kiri, who kept a glum face, arms crossed over her chest.

And now, all of Neteyam's attention landed on you, as it naturally did, as his body always seemed to do instinctively, even though he didn't even intend to, he always focused on you, as if you were the center of the universe, the sun of his world, the core of his heart, the magnet of his mind and the horizon of his eyes. He saw you. He had always seen you. And practically everyone in his family knew, perhaps everyone on the whole planet, except for you, of course.

Neteyam had expressly refused any offer or even, even idea from his parents to find him a Tsahik as his position as the future leader of the clan, it was his duty and it behoved him to follow to the letter the duty that rested on his shoulders as the future chief, but now, all that had been left behind with his leaving. Now all he cared about having was you. All that mattered was you.

With a beautiful sunset behind him, he began to speak to you once again, hands gently running over your shoulders and arms, becoming more attentive, affectionate, but still concerned. His brow furrowed slightly and you knew immediately that a scolding was coming now. “What were you thinking, hm? Fighting them all?”

He was always like that with you, especially when you were alone together. Neteyam never felt he was enough for his father, and he too never seemed to be satisfied of him, let alone see all that his son did for his family, for his siblings and for him, but with you, with you everything was different, he could be different, he could be himself and he knew that was enough for you, you made him feel enough, you made him feel special.

“If that's what I had to do for protecting Kiri, Lo'ak and their family's honor, of course.” You answered immediately and with your words, sounding so sure and affirmative, Neteyam felt his heart be flooded with a most familiar warmth, an emotion quite well-known to him whenever you were near him and said things such as those, always putting others before yourself, putting the welfare of his family before yourself.

A smile tugged at Neteyam's lips, admiring you with bright, big eyes, his hands trailing down your shoulders, sliding down your arms to your hands, taking them between his own tenderly, fingers toying with yours absentmindedly as he watched the clear size difference.

“He called you little flower.” Neteyam stated after a silence of a couple of seconds, twisting his head. His jaw was clenched and ears barely tilted back. “I call you that.”

You bit your lower lip, holding back the smile that threatened to curve your lips at his clear display of jealousy. He was upset about it and you had to reassure him. Your fingers caressed his wrist, tracing imaginary lines down his forearm. “I like it better when you do it.”

“I sure hope so.” He smiled again and tugged on your hand, inviting you to walk with him, both of your hands tangled between his arm, and he didn't waste a second in drawing you to him. “I want to show you something.”

. . .

Neteyam had found the spot walking along the local beach, it was a bit far from the place where his family was staying and it was far from the town in general, but that made it a perfect location. It was a small bay, surrounded by coastal vegetation, a couple of palm trees and soft silky sand, but what was really amazing, was the glows of bioluminescence under the clear ocean water, algae of all colors, small animals swimming, with the sunset light bathing exquisitely over the turquoise sea.

It was beautiful, of course. But your reaction at the sight of it was even better; mouth half-open, eyes huge and amazed, face in wonder.

“'Yam… it's beautiful.” You murmured in a soft, barely audible tone of voice, but he was right next to you, as close to you as possible, so he could hear you perfectly. His fingers were intertwined with yours and he pulled you with him across the sand to the perfect place to sit.

“Yes it is. I found it as I was passing by... I immediately thought of you.” His gaze lowered with a hint of embarrassment flashing across his pretty face. “I know how much you love nature, all the things our great mother has given us, so, I thought, you would like it.” He stated and then shrugged, attitude becoming quite braggy now. “I've seen more beautiful things, though.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing your shoulder against his in amusement as you wrapped your arms around your knees, admiring the scenery in front of you. “Don't lie now.”

“I'm serious.” He laughed, looking up at you, analyzing every expression on your pretty face. “I'm no liar, you know that.”

You raised an eyebrow, turning your head so you could look at him now. “Really, huh? So what have you seen? What possibly have you seen prettier than this?”

Neteyam smiled thinly, stirring his arm lightly, his hand passed down your back, resting on the sand, fingers fiddling with it. “Something prettier than this?”

“Hm.” You hummed, looking at him curiously.

His ears perked up, gaze dropping to his lap, steeling himself inside, trying his hardest to calm the nerves that were practically eating him alive. And then, he moved his eyes up your body, until he met yours. “I'm looking at it right now.”

Your breath hitched and your mouth parted, feeling your body freeze. Your arms fell to either side of your body, adjusting your position.

“Nete…” You whispered in a shaky voice.

“Yes, sluyang?” He tilted his head softly. “I'm being honest.” He swallowed saliva, his hand trailing up your arm, caressing your shoulder and tracing your jaw, down to rest on your cheek, fingers tracing every inch of skin he could, arranging your hair and tucking it behind your ear. “I've always seen you as the most beautiful thing…” His lips trembled, faltering for a few moments. “I see you, (Y/N).”

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his, nuzzling his nose against yours. “I see you too, Neteyam.”

He closed his eyes too, caressing your face with his. “When that idiot called you flower and treated you that way… like you were nothing.” His hands cradled your face now, and you rose up to face him, completely silent, breathing agitatedly. He was breathing in an agitated way too, looking frustrated, disturbed. “I was furious. They should respect you. Every one of them should know that you are mine and they should treat you as such, as my equal, as my mate.”

You opened your eyes to find his eyes already on you, your fingers stroking his arms subconsciously. Your lips brushed his as you opened your mouth to speak in an agitated voice. “I want to be yours, Neteyam.”

“I can't pretend anymore.” He declared between shaky breaths, gaze traveling between your eyes and mouth as he shook his head. “I don't care what anyone else says, I don't want anyone else. I have already chosen. I just want you, (Y/N)... I was made for you.”

“Then just take me.” You murmured against his lips before joining them with yours in a needy, agitated kiss that felt as if everything at last, made sense, as if life had been created just for this moment, as if you had been brought to life just this moment, for each other.

It felt as if all the constellations had aligned for you, as if you had all the stars just for you, and that was given just once, you knew. Everything made you feel as if Ewya had created you for each other. You were made for each other and perhaps the Great Mother had aligned the whole universe for it, for you.

“I am yours.” He promised. “I always have been.”

Your legs tangled between his as you landed on his lap, being drawn in by his arms chaining themselves around your body, massaging your waist, tattooing his touch on your skin.

“Forever.”

[luveline]

hiyaa girlyy!! so i have a fic request and it's totally fine if you don't want to write / don't feel comfortable reading or doing it: and also, i'm not sure if someone thought of this yet, but how about spencer just being friends with a stripper. like their are murders ongoing abt strippers and spencer sees reader at one of the crime scènes and everybody's shocked since their sooo sweet and comfortable together? (and bonus point if she wears his jacket or something since it's cold)

thank you for your request! if you have more requests for this pairing please send them my way!

"I tried to call you!" 

Hotch looks up from his phone at the shout. He'd been texting Jessica one handed in an attempt to tell her and Jack that he won't be home tonight, and he isn't usually easily startled, but he isn't expecting you to talk to him. Or call him. 

He blinks back his fatigue —you're obviously not talking to him. You're almost nondescript in your hoodie, but Hotch isn't confident you're wearing any pants, or underwear. It was a rush job to bring everyone out from the club, and you and the rest of the dancers stand on the sidewalk in various states of undress. 

"Can we get some jackets, please?" Hotch asks, turning back to the beat cops standing by. "Thermal blankets? Anything?" 

When he turns back, Spencer's not where he was. Hotch casts his gaze back to you near the club doors, your hair messed up from the scuffle but your face intricate and untouched, just as pretty as the rest of your fellow dancers, and doubly so as you throw your arms around Spencer Reid's tall shoulders. 

"I'm so glad you're okay," Spencer says, squeezing you hard, your heels lifting off of the rain-sullied sidewalk. "I told you to stay home!" 

"I can't stay home, Spencer. How would I make money?" 

"I'll pay for the hours you miss, I told you that, too." 

"Baby, you couldn't afford it," you tease lightly, setting back down. Your hand immediately rises to Spencer's cheek, your painted nails scratching delicately at his skin. "I've missed you. Where have you been?" 

"California, then Albuquerque." 

"Killing bad guys?" 

Hotch doesn't consider Spencer a lonely guy, and he doesn't think he'd ever be collected enough to enter a strip club, and yet. There he is, hugging and checking over a stripper with as much care and tenderness as he'd show any member of the team. And judging by your smile, you're enamoured with him. Whether romantically or otherwise is anyone's guess. 

Morgan's, apparently. "Sorry, I'm sorry, does Reid have a girlfriend? Like, a…?" 

"You can say stripper," Emily says, though she's similarly nonplussed. "I mean, there's no way. Right?" 

"They're just friends," JJ says. 

The team turns to her in betrayal. Clearly, JJ knew about this and said nothing, and Hotch has things to do but this is so thoroughly bizarre that he gives himself five minutes of curiosity; he lets the others berate her for answers. 

"Come on, JJ! When did this happen? How did this happen?" Emily asks, her voice dropping to a scandalised whisper. 

In the background, Spencer peels out of his jacket that barely fits around your shoulders. You wear it anyhow, wrapping your arm through his and leaning on his shoulder. "Thanks, Dr. Reid." 

"I really wish you'd stay home when I tell you too." He rubs your arm amicably. 

"Her old boss was a typical heavy-handed sleaze," JJ explains, voice soft with sympathy. "Spence said he used to see her at the grocery store with bruises. She stayed with him for a few days and found a new club… He said she can smile through anything, even a broken wrist." 

Hotch understands. This part of Virginia pretends to be better than it is, and while you seem happy enough now in your profession, he knows it can't be easy. Spencer did for you what he would've done for anyone. You've clearly seen the good in him, treating him with a real and easy affection, adoring through shivers as you look up at him and ask, "Are you eating enough? You look tired." 

"I'm exhausted worrying about you. You're exhausting. Like, where are the sweatpants I got you? You'll get hypothermia." 

"I was trying not to get murdered. You're lucky I grabbed the hoodie." You turn to the team, as though you've known they were watching the entire time. "You wanna introduce me to your friends?" you ask. Hotch detects a hint of insecurity under all your bubbly sweetness. 

Spencer laughs loudly, ushering you forward with a hand on your shoulder. "Don't chicken out this time." 

"Don't embarrass me in front of the special agents!" you whisper. 

"I'm a special agent." 

"No, you're a doctor. He's a special agent." Your gaze narrows in on Hotch. "Hi, you're the boss, huh?" You eye his naked marriage finger briefly, and he knows you're kidding, but he still has to fight to stay expressionless as you continue, "How come handsome guys like you don't ever wanna see me dance?" 

Hotch puts out his hand. "Aaron Hotchner. It's nice to meet you." 

You shake his hand, though you stay as close to Spencer as you can manage without stepping on his shoes. "Right. Too respectful. It's really nice to meet you too, Agent Hotchner. Can you catch the bad guy soon? I'll end up on Spencer's cough again if I don't make rent." 

Morgan opens his mouth and Hotch promptly shuts him down with a raised hand. "We will. You have my word." 

[ilyhaitanii]

hear me out,, period sex w sylus >:)

rubbing my hands together the moment i saw this (i for the life of me csnnot use kitten so u all will have to suffice with kitty.) nsfw - 18 dni

sylus is the sweetest when youre on your period. he understands how your hormones can drive you nuts— crying one minute and laughing the next. he also understands just how painful your cramps can be. often times, he comes home to find you curled up on the bed, pressing his pillow against your front as you nuzzle your face into his pillow as you smell his jasmine shampoo thats lingering on the sheets.

it’s adorable yes, however sylus finds it amusing when he finds you rubbing hips against his thighs, trying to distract yourself from the pain in your lower abdomen. every time he’ll do the same thing: he’ll click his tongue while he chuckles and tugs your hips closer to him.

your body tenses when his hands dip into your pants, fearing he may find the blood disgusting. however, sylus could care less. he’s done far grosser things in his life (not that he would deem this gross to begin with. it’s a natural thing your body does— you can’t help it! this isnt even scratching the surface of gross, dont fret.)

you slump against his chest, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. his fingers slip up and down your slit before sinking into your sticky heat. a shiver crawls up your back as sylus peppers kisses into your neck.

he never teases you when you’re like this— so needy and so fragile. he immediately curls his fingers against your sweet spot instead of pumping them in and out. the stretch of his fingers would cause you even more discomfort that you’re already experiencing. he’d rather see your twitchy under his palm than watch you sob and cry at the sting.

“there you go, sweetie. feel good?” he mutters into your ear before stealing your lips with a kiss. it’s deep and passionate. not to mention, sylus holds you close to his body while his free hand kneeds the fat of your ass and hips.

“sy.. sylus,” you cry out, lip jutting out as your cunt clenches around his digits. he knows that sound all too well: you’re about to cum.

“yes, kitty? what is it, sweet girl. tell me. you’re so fussy,” sylus coos at your adorable expression. your flushed cheeks, glossy eyes, and pouty lip has him feeling weak. you’re far too adorable, how could he ever deny you?

“i need to cum.” you state breathless. you ground yourself by holding onto his shoulders and biting down on him. “can i cum? please? please, sylus?” your voice quivers towards the end when his thumb catches onto your clit. suddenly, your stomach is twisting and pitting. sylus chuckles in a low tone, his husky voice reverberating around the room,

“cum, sweetie. do it for me,” sylus watches your hips chase after his hand. the squelching noise is so loud, but neither of you care. especially not when your squeezing his digits as you cream all over them.

sylus can feel the sticky residue and blood on his fingers as he slides them out your dripping cunt. his clean hand comes down your lower back, rubbing your body.

“did that help any?” he asks so sweetly, you almost feel yourself reeling back. not trusting yourself to speak correctly, you simply nod as you look up at him.

there’s this still this indescribable need that throbs inside you, especially now that you’re mentally aware of your clit being greeted by the cool air of sylus’s bedroom.

“need more,” you tug on his arm again before dragging his fingers back where they belong. with his thumb making hearts of your clit, sylus knows he’s going to be here all night long.

© ilyhaitanii - do not repost, translate, plagiarize

[klausysworld]

Very closed off reader who kinda clings to Klaus because they relate to him in the fact that he has family troubles :( she sees that he clearley does the things he does because of trauma or whatever and so does everything in her power to show him that he's got someone to fall back on.

Every time he shouts at her or retaleates because he's upset and dosent understand how soemone could be so nice to him she simply gives him a hug or a gift or just sits some distance away to show he isn't alone.

She deals with all his meanness quite well because she's used to it from her family and has learned to block it out :( one day he really has enough of her and after something goes wrong with Elena or Salvatore he really doesn't want reader around him. She tells him quite confidently that he needs soemone to help him and she would never leave him alone at which point he smirks and says something snarky before proving that he doesn't need her. He reaches into her chest and grips her heart and kinda realises he is in the wrong when she looks kinda shocked and sad so he gently takes his hand out and feeds her his blood to help with the damage he left behind. Afterwards reader is less affectionate with him and only sits with him when he is in a state, now afraid to touch him incase he lashes out but still wanting to support him cuz she cares about him :(

Thanks for reading, love your stories!

The Betrayed Becomes The Betrayer.

Growing up on an aggressive household desensitised me to a lot of things; yelling and smashing objects especially. My parents were a mess, I'm not sure if they didn't know how to love or just didn't want to.

Eventually I realised that they were the same thing and that I wasn't wanted at home, so I left and found Hayley.

Which was how I wound up finding Klaus.

He was a broken man, I could tell. Elijah confirmed that their parents had been cruel and abusive almost as soon as we met him which I assumed they also must've become desensitised over it after a thousand years.

However when I actually met Klaus, it was obvious that he was still deeply affected by it. I could understand him, his feelings and his thoughts. I got why he wanted to be so strategic, to have the control that was taken form him. I knew why he wanted to make people hurt the way he hurt and why he was as aggressive as the the people that raised him.

I wasn't violent, or an angry person. I had learnt to be quiet and keep things to myself so that I didn't get in the way but I would think about it. How it would feel to hurt someone, to make them feel worthless and then leave them. Could it really feel good enough to do over and over?

In my head I assumed it must do but I could never bring myself to actually torment someone the way I had been.

But I could tell that Klaus was still haunted by the past and it affected his every move. I couldn't blame him, or fault him for acting upon the images that swirled in my own mind.

Often he got frustrated, angry and inevitably lash out against someone. Something would be thrown, smashed. Someone would be yelling, screaming.

But I never wanted to be mad at him, to me he didn't deserve to be ranted at for what he'd done. They were riling him up further and it was obvious, it was like they wanted him to explode and hurt someone.

So instead of pushing him off that edge, I tried to help him back up.

To begin with I would just be the only one in the room not glaring at him with hatred. I just wanted him to know that there was someone on his side. He didn't notice for a little while but after a couple arguments I think he started to feel my presence. Sometimes he would get snappy, ask what I was looking at but when I'd just tell him that I understood why he did what he did, Klaus would get less defensive.

I wasn't a touchy person, ever, but the time his mother had been back and she hurt him so bad that he cried in his room, I didn't know what else to do but hug him.

After that it seemed like I was hugging him all the time. He calmed so much easier with some touch.

Sometimes he accepted it without complaint but sometimes he didn't want anyone near him so I would go away and come back later. He knew I was there when he needed me and I learnt to be a patient person.

I also learnt not to react so when he screamed in my face I didn't yell back. He had been so stressed lately and a lot of people had died yesterday the day before. I left him alone for the night before coming back in the morning to try and be there, he didn't want to talk so I went away and came back in the afternoon. To begin with he was fine but he got angry so fast, I barely said anything before he was yelling.

I tried not to react, not to talk back or get defensive but then he pushed me. Both hands on my shoulders, shoving me backward toward the wall and I tensed and something stirred in me.

I told him he was being ridiculous, pathetic and he didn't know what he needed.

"What? You think I need you? You think I like your desperate little cuddles. I'm not the one craving touch and love. I've been fine for centuries and I don't need a clingy little thing following me around." He snapped at me and I felt my frown deepen and the hurt biting at me.

"I'm not being clingy...I'm just trying to be helpful." I whispered and he scoffed.

Klaus got close, too close and it frightened me a little. I took a few steps back and he chuckled, trapping me to the wall.

"What is it, love? No more snuggles? You don't want to tell me it's okay? You gonna tell me I should paint a picture?" He mocked, his breath hot on my face. "You think I'm pathetic sweetheart? Think I need you? All I need is for you to disappear." His voice was low but clear, eyes cold and I felt the adrenaline hit and screaming for me to run but I froze just like I used to when I was little.

The smallest sound left me when I felt something agonising within my chest. My mouth opened but no noise would come out and I struggled to breath at all. I looked down, watching my own blood seep through my clothes and drip down his wrist. My eyes were stinging and I could feel my heart close to exploding as his grip tightened. I wasn't sure if I was stood there for hours or seconds before my body reacted and my arms shot up, both my hands latching onto his wrist so he couldn't pull the organ out.

My eyes shot up to look into his, seeing them soften after a second before his hand let go around my heart. A loud cry left me when he tore his fist out of my chest, leaving a gaping hole. I panted and a strong metallic taste filled my mouth as blood dripped past my lips.

His voice sounded blurry when he tried to tell me something, nothing felt real as my legs went weak and his hands touched my sides. The touch made me cry again and I felt him hesitate before something gross was pressed to my mouth and I couldn't tell if I was choking on my blood or his.

After a moment I could feel my body healing from the inside out, physically I felt better but now my mind was spinning. I looked up at him again, I could feel the fear pulsing through my veins when he reached his hand toward me.

This time I didn't freeze.

I was up and out of the room as fast as my legs could move.

I avoided him for a few days, part of me knew he wasn't going to do anything again and that he felt bad about it but the other part of me couldn't help but worry.

It was only when he was attacked again that I willingly sat in the same room as him.

"You okay?" I asked and he looked over to me, he was splattered with blood but at least it wasn’t mine.

"Yeah...I'm okay." He whispered, nodding.

I shifted in my place and he shuffled over on the couch so I could sit on the other end to him. The silence was awkward for a while, actually the entire time.

It was for quite a lot of the times I was near him. I wanted to be there for him, show him I understood but I was still scared and I didn't want to be close enough that he could kill me or hurt me just incase he did.

It was when he was carried in my Elijah, Papa Tunde’s blade in his chest causing him to be immobile and in agonising pain, when I got close again.

Elijah dropped him to the bed with a soft thud and was moving fast. He turned, looking right at me before talking.

“I need you to feed him your blood. It’s laced with vervain, he’ll heal slow. You need to keep him here or he is going to kill Rebekah. I don’t want to burden you, Y/N, but I’m afraid you’re the only who’s even a possibility.” He directed quickly, whilst dragging the blade from his brother’s chest.

“A possibility for what?” I asked, confused and afraid. I didn’t want to give him my blood. It was like asking him to kill me.

“You’re the only person he might listen to.” He explained as he headed for the door. “He won’t hurt you.” He told me and it sounded like a promise before he left.

Klaus let out a groan and I turned, hesitantly walking over to the edge of his bed. I silently dammed myself for being concerned enough to follow Elijah when he carried him in here.

I looked down at him, wincing at the cut that hadn’t healed down the length of his bare chest.

“What…what happened?” I whispered, wanting to reach out to touch but willing myself not to.

“Elijah-“ Klaus grunted, his teeth grinding as he forced words out. “He stabbed me for her.” It was clear that rage was all he felt in that moment as he tried to push himself up, only to let out a cry of pain.

“Rebekah?” I wondered and he seethed.

“She betrayed me. Called Mikael. She wanted me dead!” He yelled, his aggression growing as I felt my hairs stand on edge.

I was quiet, watching him struggle desperately.

I understand why he was so mad, betrayal was a huge thing for him. Abandonment, paranoia. It made him this way and Rebekah used it and ruined all of their lives but I had no doubt she had her reasons…not that I’d tell him that.

“She doesn’t now” I whispered and his had snapped to me. “She loved you now, she’s here now-“

“Only months ago did she stand beside Marcellus and watch as his vampires tried to kill me. She has always wanted me gone. She’s so desperate for Marcel that she’d kill her own brother-“ he snapped and I flinched.

His voice died off when I stepped back and he grunted softly. He was taking fast but deep breaths, trying to gather some stability and I could feel Elijah’s words echoing through me. That I had to let Klaus feed from me.

Reluctantly I shifted closer again, he was quiet as I sat down on the edge of his bed. His body was laid so close to me and his chest moved with each pain-filled breath.

My entire arm shook as I held it out, right infront of his face and it made his skin dance with veins. “Love…” he muttered, his jaw clenching as he inhaled through his nose. “I’m not going to hurt you” he uttered, I could feel his eyes on my but I couldn’t look back at his. “Not again. Just…there’s blood bags downstairs”

“Elijah said I have to use mine, the vervain makes it slower or something? I don’t know…I can’t do it wrong” I pushed my wrist closer, glancing at the fangs that were pushing past his gums.

“He won’t be mad.”

“He’s trusting me.” I whispered, finally looking up to klaus’s eyes and he sighed before slowly nodding.

I almost tugged my arm back when I felt his teeth pierce the skin, the sting making me move but his hand lifted to keep me in place. His eyes stayed locked on mine as he fed, it was such a strange sensation; much less painful than a needle.

As I felt myself weaken, I noticed the wound across his body fixing itself. My eyes started to go and for a second I faltered, my head beginning to drop but his other hand caught my chin and held me up. His fangs retreated back up and something warm and wet slid across my wrist before I was leaned up against him.

“I’m so sorry, love.” He whispered into my ear. “I have to finish what they’ve started.” He told me and I knew he wanted to murder Rebekah and I wanted to talk to him but he’d taken so much blood. His eyes stared straight into mine, reaching into my mind. “You’re going to fall asleep, you’ll wake tomorrow morning and you will feel no pain from this bite. I will heal you when I return. I promise I didn’t take enough to kill you, just to empty you of vervain.”

I wanted to argue, yell or anything but my mind shut down and my eyes wouldn’t stay open. I sunk into myself completely and lay, somehow conscious and unconscious as I tried to wake myself up.

I woke the next morning like he instructed my body to do, I glanced at my wrist to find it wrapped in bandages. My head lifted to see a glass of water, tinted pink by what I assumed was blood beside a small teddybear.

Hesitantly I sipped the drink, feeling instantly better before picking up the toy.

“I thought you’d like it” a voice sounded from the doorway, I glanced to see Klaus. Both his hands were behind his back and a guilty look painted his face.

I pushed myself up, it felt strange being in someone else’s bed; especially Klaus’s.

I didn’t answer him as I got up and pushed past him, shoving the teddy into his chest and going straight to my own room.

For a man who hated betrayal, he sure knew how to commit it.

He knew I was already afraid of him, that I didn’t want to be that close again and he took advantage of the ounce of trust I still had.

I understood him, but I couldn’t do this again. I’d been in this situation too many times.

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Waking up to a clean apartment was not what Dick was expecting at all. It was a nice surprise, for sure, but it begged the question as to how long he was asleep for. His phone said that it was the same day, only two hours later, but that state of the apartment suggested it had been at least a day!

He poked his head into the room he'd given Danny to stay in. The kid had ignored the bed almost completely, it seemed, and curled up in the corner furthest from the door with the blanket and his bag. He closed the door softly as he left the room. He hated that Danny didn't feel safe enough to sleep on the bed, but he understood the need to have his back to a corner.

Dick took one look at the shopping list on the counter before opening his fridge. Immediately, he closed it again. The rancid stench of spoiled milk and other foodstuffs seeped into the open room, making Dick rush to open the windows. He added candles and Febreeze to the shopping list. With his pay, he should have more than enough to get everything written down, as well as some things for Danny.

Would Danny want to go to school? Or would he want to take online courses? What grade would he even be in? There was nothing about any of that in the cover story the kid had made up. Did he just not think about it, or had he deemed it unimportant? Either way, Dick would bring it up with him in a little bit. For now, shopping. The kid had done a hell of a job with cleaning up, so it was only natural that Dick would pull his weight in his own apartment.

Making sure to leave a note, Dick locked the door behind himself as he headed down, mentally adding fridge magnets to the shopping list, too.

***

Stepping back into the apartment was like walking into someone else's home. The place looked no different than when he'd left earlier, but it was only just now settling that he now had someone to take care of. Dick was no longer alone in this apartment. He had someone to look out for, someone who was looking out for him.

And how pathetic was that? A child was having to take care of him. He's an adult! He should be able to take care of himself! But, here he is, hopeless. He hadn't even bothered to get off his ass and go shopping or clean up a little bit until a kid knocked on his door and spelled everything out for him in blue glitter pen.

Dick set down the six bags he was carrying on the counter. He completely emptied out the fridge and freezer, throwing it all away. It all had to go. The smell would linger for a little bit, but it wouldn't ever get that bad again, especially now that the stuff causing it was all gone. He quickly put everything away before picking up his phone.

He hadn't called the Manor in a while. Not since- not since Jason died...

He shook his head, scolding himself for letting irrational fear and anger get in the way of contacting the only family he had left, and called Wayne Manor.

After exactly two and a half rings, the line picked up. "Wayne Manor, Alfred Pennyworth speaking."

"Hey, Alfie," Dick knew he sounded pathetic.

There was..something on the other end that Dick couldn't quite pick up before Alfred spoke, formalities dropped and a smile in his voice. "Master Dick, how good to hear from you. It has been a while."

He leaned against the counter, sagging a bit. "Yeah, it has been. I'm sorry, Alfred, I just-"

"No need to apologize, Master Dick, I completely understand."

Did he? Maybe. "That's- Thank you, Alfred, really, but I didn't really call to apologize."

"Oh?" There was another sound in the background, a little closer to the phone, but not close or loud enough to be clearly picked up. "What seems to be the issue, then?"

"I, um," God, how was he going to explain this? "A kid showed up at my door, um, and offered to help me out? I-I couldn't say no to him, Alfe, but- I don't! I-I don't know how to take care of a kid!" The floodgates seemed to open with that as he sank to the floor, his back against the wall. "I can barely take care of myself, let alone a whole other person! But I can't put him back on the streets, Alfred, I just can't. And the things he's been telling me- He's not had an okay life, Alfred. I don't- I don't know what to do."

It was quiet for a moment before Alfred let out a small breath. "You, too?"

"Huh?"

THe question was ignored. "Take a deep breath for me, Master Dick." He did. "Good. This child, how old is he?"

"I don't know, about fourteen?"

A click of his tongue. "Taking care of a child is going to look different for everyone, especially if they've never had to care for anyone but themselves before. From what I understand, he has come to you for safety. He has nowhere else to go, yes?"

"Well, yeah, other than the streets, but I'm not sending him back out there-!"

"I'm not telling you to. If he came to you, he will leave of his own accord. It is your job to make sure he knows he can stay and that he is safe with you."

"I know that, but-"

"Do you have food in your house?"

"I- What? Yeah, I just got back from shopping."

"Good. Is your house clean?"

"Yeah, he, um, the kid cleaned up the place while I was asleep."

"Alright. Does he have a place to sleep?"

"Yeah, I gave him my spare room. What does this-?"

"Then the only thing left for you to do is to make sure he knows he's allowed to be comfortable there. Make sure he knows that it is a safe space for him and that he can stay as long as he likes. From the sounds of it, he intends to take care of you just as you intend to take care of him. Find a middle ground, set up some house rules, go at a pace that works for the both of you. You two will grow into a routine that fits for you in time. And it will take time. Bonds do not grow overnight, especially ones that are meant to last. It will be hard, but that is what makes it worth it."

Dick was quiet for a minute. Alfred let him gather his thoughts, not hanging up and simply waiting. Finally, "Thanks, Alfred."

"You are most welcome, Master Dick." The old man was smiling again. "Oh, aster Dick?"

"Yeah?"

"When you two are more comfortable, please come by the Manor."

Dick smiled, too. "I will. And I'll try to call more often."

"That's all I ask. Have a good day, Master Dick.

"Thanks, Alfred, you, too."

Part 5 Part 7

Tag List: @flame-343 @ghestie93 @anarinette @aglmry @peachtreewriter @evix-syne666 @loudlypanickinginvenezolano @lumosfeather18581 @blueliac @talia-scar123 @cyber-geist @violet-foxe @currentfandomkick

[elllisaaa]

crazy question but i need to know… when is the sex better - when sunghoon is being jealous or when you are the one being jealous?

i’m always here yapping about him, but you only fuel my love and affection for him and i love it, i can never get enough <3

not a crazy question at all honestly, it's pretty sane coming from you AND considering you're talking about sunghoon sweetie.

SUNGHOON + JEALOUS SEX feels good anyway.

when he's the one being jealous, it's undoubtedly rough and incredibly mean. he's calling you a slut, holding your hands or hips, edging you until you're crying and your makeup is all ruined, fucking your mouth until your jaw is stiff as hell, pounding into your cunt until your legs go numb and the only thing you're able to do is to beg him to let you cum and have mercy on you. the whole time, sunghoon has a smug smirk on his face, his fangs peeking out when he coos at you when you're screaming out his name, and everything is doing is so attractive, and he's so composed when you're a mess it's maddening in the best way possible. when sunghoon is jealous, he's ruining you and fucking you into next week but it all feels so good you won't ask him to stop.

"fucking slut, couldn't even wait an hour you had to touch me some other men in public right ? acting like a bitch in heat just because you need someone to fill your tight little cunt all the damn time. brace yourself doll, i'm not letting you cum until you remember who you belong to."

but in my opinion, it's even better when you're the one getting jealous. first of all, sunghoon loves it when you stand up for yourself or get mad because you look especially hot when you're in this state. in these moments, he's proud that you're his girlfriend, but he's even more proud of the fact that he's yours. so when this energy is directed to the waitress who has been checking him out and blatantly flirting with him the whole time you've been here, even if you had made it clear he was taken, sunghoon loves it even more. the way your hand is sitting on his thigh when she comes back to bring your desserts is your way to claim him and he loves it, but what turns him on even more is the way you're telling her to back off because she could never satisfy him like you could. and that's true, but the fact that you know it makes his smile widen as he listens to your rambling while you're eating.

whenever you're feeling like this, you cannot wait to be home to remind your boyfriend that you own him too. you just have to sit on sunghoon's lap in the car, kissing him hungrily and taking over his tongue, devouring his mouth. and sunghoon lets you take the reins gladly, his hands resting on your hips but not forcing you to move because you're the one in control this time. "she can't take a fucking hint, gotta have to remind everyone that you're mine baby." - "go on doll, do whatever you want with me."

and that was all you needed to mark down his whole neck with hickeys and bite marks, grinding down on his boner and making him moan. your possessiveness excites him even more, and by the time you're done covering him with purple marks, he was already leaking in his boxer. the way you ride him as if you wanted to milk him dry has sunghoon throwing his head back, eyes closed and mouth opened, letting out all sorts of noises. he's letting you do all the talking, getting more desperate to cum every time another string of dirty words escape your lips.

"i'm the only one who can make you feel like this baby, right ? i'm the only one who can take your cock like that." "louder, hoon. i want everyone to hear how good i'm making you feel." "you're gonna cum ? do it inside, this way no one is going to ever doubt that you belong to me again."

sunghoon cums the hardest when you whisper all these things to him with a smirk on your face, and he's almost on the verge of tears from the way your pussy is clenching around him, from the way you're so confident about the effect you have on him. and you're right, because he's down bad for you and that won't ever change

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [11]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.7k

Trigger Warnings: gore, implied mutilation

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 10 | Fic Masterlist | Part 12

Hearing the cessation of all the screams, one of the royal guards gathered the courage to enter the chamber and check on Seonghwa, "Sir, are you done?"

Upon entering, he had yet to witness the state in which the former minister was left. The general stood before his victim, actively wiping all the blood off his hands with a towel prepared beforehand, "It's done. Has my assistant arrived to pick me up?"

"Yes, sir. Assistant Choi is waiting with your carriage by the entrance. If I remember correctly, he mentioned Lady Park helped prepare dinner today." A smile instantly graced your husband's face at the mere mention of you.

"Thank you, soldier. Bring in the rest and clean up the mess," He instructed, finally stepping away from the seat in the middle of the room, revealing the sight of your father slumped in the chair, both of his arms missing, blood gushing out from his shoulders, "Get him to a physician before banishing him. No need to treat him extensively; heal him just enough to keep him alive."

Freezing, the guard nodded quickly, "Y-yes, sir! We will not let you down!" His round eyes fixated on the two mutilated limbs on the ground in the middle of the puddle of crimson liquid.

The general was truly not someone to be underestimated, that was evident to the royal guards who filed in later on to clean up the bloody mess. They now understood why Seonghwa was so feared among those who had worked with him or witnessed his cold-blooded nature firsthand.

However, rather than instilling pure terror, your husband garnered more respect from them. He had gone to great lengths just to avenge his beloved wife. This demonstrated that the man still possessed a heart after all and that his affection for Lady Park was undeniable. He has proven that he could love just as fiercely as he hated.

Not a single member of the palace staff harboured even a hint of pity for the former Minister of Military Affairs as they dealt with his mangled body according to instructions. Any citizen with access to news was aware of all the cruel acts the old man had committed against his own daughter and first wife. It was safe to say that witnessing him in this state brought ample satisfaction not only to the general but to others as well.

"Sir, there's a bit of blood here."

The assistant extended his handkerchief, ensuring his master was free from any signs of bloodshed as they returned home. The last thing they all needed was for you to catch on to any of the events that occurred today; you should only focus on happiness and never spare another thought for your so-called family from now onwards.

"Thank you, Jongho," The general responded, taking the piece of fabric to remove the small bloodstain on his neck, "Keep me posted on where they banished that clown afterwards. It would be nice to check in on him once in a while, for entertainment purposes."

"Yes, sir."

Upon entering the estate, he was surprised not to find you waiting for him by the entrance, as was your usual routine when he returned from work. Only the head maid and a few servants stood there, ready to greet him, "Welcome home, master. We hope you had a good day at work." They said with a deep bow.

Seonghwa frowned, "Where's the mistress?" The elderly woman replied, "Mistress is currently at the main hall having a chat with Royal Secretary Choi while they were awaiting your return."

That immediately had the general rushing towards the hall. He didn't like the thought of you alone with... yet another handsome man. He had finally grown accustomed to having Yunho around the estate whenever he was at work, only because the two of you rarely interacted; he knew that thanks to daily reports from Eunsook. Now, jealousy was flooding his veins again.

What if you found San more attractive?

"Yes, I fully understand your concern. My sister faces similar issues," The royal secretary's voice carried from outside the hall, and then your softer response followed, "Thank you so much for your help, San. It means a lot to me."

They're already on a first-name basis?

"Help? With what?" He queried, abruptly pulling you and the secretary from your conversation. Both of you looked up at him, and you blinked and stammered nervously, quickly rising from your seat, "Oh, Seonghwa! You're home! It's nothing, we were just having a casual conversation while waiting for you."

Sensing your unease, San chuckled and concurred, "Yes, it was nothing important. It's good that you're back; I've come to deliver the minutes of today's assembly to you, as per His Majesty's orders."

"Please don't let me interrupt; I'll be waiting for you at the dining hall," You remarked to your husband, offering a nod of gratitude to the secretary, "It was nice talking to you, Royal Secretary Choi," The man respectfully bowed his head, "And you, Lady Park."

The general watched the interaction between you two with unmistakable envy, causing San to suppress a snicker into his fist, "Without further ado, general, let's proceed so that you can join your wife for dinner as soon as possible," Seonghwa nodded, feigning nonchalance, "Of course."

As the secretary continued to share the main details discussed during the assembly, he noticed the general's slight distraction. Wrapping up the debrief, he decided to ease your husband's thoughts by divulging the nature of your earlier conversation.

"Listen, before you came back, Lady Park and I were just talking about her concerns regarding being a better wife. Given that my elder sister, who is married, shares similar worries, I was merely offering some insights that might be helpful. So, don't stress over it too much, okay? I assure you, you're the only one on her mind."

Learning that you were only seeking to improve yourself for him, Seonghwa's heart melted immediately. Regret washed over him for entertaining the notion that you might find his colleague more appealing, and a slight embarrassment crept in, "I, uhh... it's not like I was worried about that or anything... but thank you, San. If that's all for today, Jongho will escort you out."

The secretary held back his knowing smile as they bid each other farewell before the general made his way to the dining hall. His heart pounded with excitement at the thought of being with you again.

Dinner went by as usual, though this time, you were brimming with enthusiasm as you shared how you spent the day learning to prepare his favourite dishes from the kitchen staff. You even mentioned the surprising discovery that you might have developed a love for cooking. He ate more than usual, savouring the fact that the meal was made just for him, and found it difficult to take his eyes off of you throughout the night.

He had once considered happiness to be a frivolous notion, something only fools wished for. He never anticipated being the one to experience it. Now that he had, your husband was determined not to lose this newfound feeling.

With your family matters now resolved, the only thing remaining was to give you the grand wedding you truly deserved. From then on, the plan was to enjoy a lifetime of this happiness together. Watching you munching away with joy, he couldn't resist reaching over to affectionately wipe the corner of your lips. At that moment, he realised that this was all he needed.

After the meal, he walked you back to the House of Lotus, hand in hand as usual. Upon reaching the entrance, you smiled up at him, "Have a good night, Seonghwa."

However, before you could turn and leave, he swiftly cupped your face, "Wait, before you go..." Your heart quickened as he leaned in, whispering, "Just one kiss, my love."

Almost instinctively, your eyes fluttered closed as soon as his lips met yours in a tender kiss. The warmth spread through your insides as he wrapped his arms around your frame, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss by angling his head.

Feeling the sensation of his lips pressing against yours, again and again, you finally understood why couples enjoyed kissing. It was hard to put into words, but being so close to him felt pleasant, and your husband had a unique way of making you feel beautiful with his touches, even when you doubted it yourself. There was an almost addictive quality to it, making you feel like the luckiest woman in the world to be desired by the great General Park.

Perhaps I've found it... my happiness.

After breaking the kiss for a breath, he leaned his forehead against yours, a smile adorning his face as he looked down at you lovingly. In silence, the two of you remained in each other's arms, basking in the moment, reluctant to part.

Unfortunately, the moment was cut short as your assigned group of servants approached, "Oh, pardon us for the intrusion, master and mistress! We came to assist in preparing the mistress for bed. May we proceed, master? Or, if you wish to stay with the mistress, we could also make arrangements for both of you for the night in the House of Lotus."

His heart raced as he witnessed the faint blush on your cheeks in response to the maid's suggestion. Chuckling, he gently shook his head and placed a kiss on your forehead, "No, the mistress needs her rest. Perhaps another time. Go on ahead then; she will join you soon."

"Yes, master, as you wish."

The servants entered your quarters to prepare your bath while you exchanged your goodnight. Caressing your cheeks with his thumbs, he couldn't resist leaning in for a final, lingering kiss on your soft lips, "Goodnight, my love. I'll see you tomorrow."

As you made your way to your room, he felt a swell of affection watching you turn for one last wave before disappearing inside. He missed you already, and as much as he would have loved to hold you close all night, he knew that waiting until your proper wedding night to share the same bed was the right decision. For now, this was more than enough. After all, he had the rest of his life to spend with you.

"Thank goodness the ointment has been remarkably effective. I don't think you need to harbour any insecurities about your appearance anymore. Lady Park, you look beautiful." said Physician Jung as he arrived to assess the condition of your skin. Having you apply the medicine he prepared for some time, he recognised that his work here would soon be done.

Eunsook couldn't contain the grin on her face at the slight pink dusting your cheeks from the doctor's compliment, suddenly relieved that her master was not around. Lord knows how unamused he would have been to hear any of that or see your reaction.

"Yes, thank you, Yunho. She's always been ravishing with or without your ointment. I think your job here is done; it's my turn to enhance this beauty. Head over to the general's study for your pay if that's all," The doctor couldn't resist rolling his eyes at the dressmaker's dramatic entrance, "It's nice to see you too, Hongjoong."

With a dismissive wave, he shrugged off the sarcastic greeting from his tall friend, saying, "I'll catch up with you soon; I have work to do." Left with no other choice, Yunho offered one final bow to you before leaving your room with a maid escorting him out.

Closing the distance between you, the dressmaker swiftly retrieved the new hanbok he had made specifically for the special occasion today, declaring, "Now, who is ready to outshine all the princesses in the palace? It's you, Lady Park!"

"Outshine the princesses? I d-don't think that's a good idea—"

He interrupted you before you could finish your protest, "Nonsense! I promised General Park to make you the most beautiful woman in all of Joseon." With a small giggle, you sighed in defeat and allowed him to work his magic with the assistance of the head maid as they coordinated your appearance for your visit to the palace.

Today marked the day you and Seonghwa were meeting the King and Queen to discuss the details of your wedding ceremony in-depth, as well as allowing the royal couple to finally meet you after having heard so much about you. Even without having seen you, they already adored you from the stories your husband had shared. Not to mention, their hearts ached, especially after learning about your nightmarish childhood.

Seated at the vanity table, you gazed at your reflection in amazement as Eunsook worked on your hair and makeup, with Hongjoong providing expert advice and guidance. Just as the elderly woman was about to conceal the remaining faint scars on your face as she had always done, the dressmaker intervened, "No, wait. Leave the one on her forehead as it is; I have an idea."

With his extensive knowledge of fashion and beauty, he had always been intrigued by the Chinese makeup style, which incorporated temporary tattoos. Specifically, he was drawn to the idea of a small flower design painted onto women's foreheads.

Rather than covering your marks, he opted to transform them into an accessory that would improve your overall looks. With this distinctive look, you were bound to capture attention from all directions, not that your beauty didn't already achieve that. Now, you would stand out wherever you went, even within the palace grounds where princesses and royal concubines were always impeccably dressed.

Waiting by the entrance, Seonghwa turned when he recognised the sound of your dainty footsteps approaching. He didn't miss his assistant's awestruck expression, taking in your appearance from behind him, "Finally, Hongjoong's taken way too long..."

As you stepped into full view, his words trailed off, and his gaze fixed on you with a mix of astonishment and sheer admiration. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn't find the words to express what he felt. You had always been beautiful in his eyes, but his friend had truly outdone himself this time.

The most significant difference that caught the general's attention was the little red flower on your forehead, right between your eyes. That delicate design elegantly covered one of the scars you bore from your past. It was a stroke of genius from the dressmaker, turning a mark of pain into a unique and striking accessory that enhanced your natural beauty.

Your husband approached you, his eyes never leaving yours. Finally finding his voice, he whispered, "You look breathtaking, my love," before gently reaching up to trace the edge of the flower on your forehead, his touch soft and filled with so much love, "Hongjoong, you've done wonders."

The dressmaker grinned proudly and nodded in agreement, "I know, I always do."

Throughout the journey to the palace, the general found it hard to divert his gaze from you, just as you were captivated by the passing scenery outside. The roads to the palace differed from the usual routes leading to town, explaining your intrigue. As he admired your beautiful face, an unexpected desire surged within him to take you back home and shield you from others' eyes. A sudden uncertainty about wanting anyone else to see you overcame him. A selfish impulse urged him to keep you all to himself.

Before he could entertain the impulsive idea of turning the carriage around, Jongho had already announced their arrival. This time, Eunsook didn't bother to stand by and assist you down, instead waiting expectantly as the general smoothly helped you in one swift movement, determined to keep you close.

Having been here more than enough, Seonghwa knew this place might appear beautiful on the inside but could be very dangerous at the same time. People here might seem nice but rarely could be trusted, particularly the women. Well aware of this, he hesitated to let you wander off alone, despite your status as his wife. You were easily recognisable as Lady Park from a distance, anyone would have to be insane to dare mess with you.

Even so, he had no intention of leaving your side for even a moment. Palace servants passing by bowed deeply at both of you, and you did your best to maintain the poise of a noblewoman as practised with the head maid. The last thing you wanted was to make your husband look bad in here.

As you both approached the hall for the meeting with His and Her Majesty, the royal secretary rushed out to intercept the two of you. Almost as if your husband had jinxed it, San exclaimed, "There you are, General Park! We have a bit of a situation right now. Your immediate presence is required at an emergency meeting."

"But my wife—"

Finally realising you were present, the secretary bowed, "Oh, right, Lady Park! We're all aware you're here to discuss your wedding arrangements, but this really cannot wait. Even His Majesty is currently in this meeting expecting you. Would it be alright if we have your wife waiting by the cherry blossom garden? We'll have the servants prepare her some refreshments."

As much as Seonghwa detested the sudden change of plans, he acknowledged that he was left with no choice upon sensing the urgency in San's demeanour. With a nod of defeat, he agreed, "Okay, fine. Eunsook, please stay by the mistress' side at all times."

She nodded with a bow, "Of course, master."

Turning to you with a regretful frown etched on his brows, he said, "I'm sorry for having to leave you alone, my love. I'll come back to you as quickly as I can, I promise."

You shook your head with an understanding smile, "Don't worry about me, Seonghwa. I'll be fine. Your work is more important. Now hurry and go. Don't make His Majesty wait." Sighing lightly, he pecked you on the head before rushing off with the royal secretary.

"Lady Park, please come with us. We will guide you to the cherry blossom garden."

A team of palace maids appeared before you, showing you as much respect as they would towards royalty. Your status and reputation were well-known nationwide; you were favoured not only by your husband but also by the King and Queen themselves. No one would dare to disrespect you for fear of dire consequences.

Their dedication was evident in the top-tier hospitality as they led you to the enchanting garden, unlike anything you had ever seen. After thanking them politely, they prepared a seat for you in one of the pavilions within the vast garden, serving a tray of tea and some sophisticated-looking snacks.

Boredom eventually set in, and you glanced at one of the palace maids standing ready by the pavilion for any orders you might have for her, "Excuse me, would it be okay for me to take a walk around the garden?"

"Oh, certainly, Lady Park! Feel free to explore the garden as you please. Would you like any of us to accompany you?" Smiling and glancing at Eunsook, you declined, "No, thank you. We'll manage on our own. We won't be gone too long; you have my word."

"Thank you, Lady Park. Your assurance is appreciated; we'll await your return here." They bowed deeply as you and the head maid began your leisurely stroll.

As you wandered through the picturesque garden, marvelling at the vibrant colours of the flowers, you inadvertently caught the eye of a stranger who happened to be nearby. Your beauty, accentuated by the mark on your forehead, captivated the attention of this mysterious figure. What intrigued him even more was the unmistakable childlike innocence reflected in your eyes.

From a distance, he observed you with awe. The way you carried yourself, the genuine delight on your face as you admired the flowers and scenery—it all conveyed a sense of authenticity. Unlike anyone he had encountered, you seemed untouched by pretentiousness or spoiled airs.

Driven by an unexplainable urge to get closer, the stranger slowly made his way towards you, navigating through the enchanting garden. His curiosity was piqued, and he couldn't resist the desire to learn more about the intriguing woman who had captured his attention.

Unaware of the approaching figure as you immersed yourself in the beauty of the flowers, a clearing of the throat behind you signalled his presence. Eunsook, recognising the newcomer, widened her eyes and began to bow, but he gestured for her to remain silent with a finger against his lips and a subtle shake of his head.

Interrupting the tranquillity, the unexpected deep voice spoke, "It's beautiful, isn't it? Do you know what cherry blossoms symbolise?"

Startled, you turned to find a handsome man dressed elegantly, smiling down at you. After a moment of surprise, you nodded, "I do. I've read that they symbolise purity and beauty."

The man acknowledged, "That's right, much like you, my lady."

Concern flickered in the head maid's eyes, realising that the stranger might be unaware of your identity and possibly attempting to make a romantic gesture. Before matters could escalate, she decided to intervene, "Allow me to express our deepest respect, Your Highness. This is Lady Park, the esteemed wife of General Park. Mistress, may I present to you Prince Yeosang."

« Preview of Part 12 »

Seonghwa's eyes widened as they approached the War and Strategy Department building, where soldiers were marching about hastily, "Wait a minute, don't tell me—"

The royal secretary had no time to explain as he pulled the general into the meeting room where all military officials were seated and awaiting anxiously. The King, positioned in the middle of the room, sighed deeply upon noticing your husband's arrival.

"You're here, General Park. Is your wife also in the palace?" His Majesty asked, rubbing his head to alleviate an oncoming headache.

Seonghwa nodded in confirmation and inquired, "Yes, she is. She's waiting by the cherry blossom garden as we speak. Now, tell me. What is it? What has happened?"

With regret in his eyes, the King grimaced, "I'm so sorry, my boy. It seems your wedding will have to wait. Relations with the neighbouring nation, Ruhon, have not been very good lately. I fear war is inevitable this time, and... we need you."

Just wanted to make it clear that Ruhon is a fictional country. I've thought about it and decided it's probably best not to use real places for fear of offending anyone.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[mrs-kmikaelson]

Our Song and Dance¹

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader Summary: You'd grown used to dancing the same dance over and over again, the victor's dance, but then you start dancing with Finnick Odair and you feel things you never thought you'd feel. So you let yourself enjoy the dance, even though you knew that every song inevitably came to an end. Warnings: super-duper-duper long, exploitation of minors, forced prostitution, unrequited love, complicated relationships, violence, death, mental health issues, canadian spelling lol, and i make up some names (lmk if i missed smth) Words: 19.7K

Masterlist | Part 2

a/n: i alr have this finished, but it was way too long to post in one part (as you can see) so i split it up into three parts. this one goes from pre-hunger games to right before the quell. had this idea in my head as soon as i finished thg, so i hope u enjoy!

Y/N Y/L/N, victor of the 67th Hunger Games. You were from district 4, one of the youngest victors that not only your district has ever had, but also all of Panem. Of course, you weren’t the youngest; that title belonged to none other than Finnick Odair.

A man you hated with a passion and, frankly, a man who didn’t like you very much either.

You could still remember the night you met.

Snow was droning on and on, giving a speech about something you couldn’t care less about. It was all lies, anyway, and you were only gonna end up in some rich man’s bed tonight, so you’d prefer to go through that interaction as drunk as you could be. With that thought, you downed the rest of your flute.

“Ah, careful, Princess.” Before you even saw the person, you knew it was him. His voice was so easily recognizable, even though you had never met, not even after living in the same district, then the Victors’ Village, or even at these little Capitol parties. 

Finnick.

You turned, a faux smile on your face that he fully reciprocated. “Snow wouldn’t want the Capitol’s pride and joy to be under the influence,” he said, teasing but with an undertone that put you off.

You didn’t give a damn what Snow thought, but you weren’t gonna say that, especially not in his own home. Instead, you gave him the smile you gave the rest of Panem and directed the topic of conversation away from the President. “I won my Games, Finnick. Trust me, I’m not a lightweight.” Oh, but you wish you were. You wish you could get so drunk that you’d forget who you were entirely.

A part of you felt bad: twenty-three other people died while you walked out of the arena, and yet you wanted nothing more than for your life to end. A part of you wondered if the great Finnick Odair ever felt this way, either, but it wouldn’t be good small talk to ask.

Finnick’s grin only widened. “Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

Your eyes just so imperceptibly narrowed. “Likewise.”

He started to walk away, but he suddenly paused like he forgot something, leaning closer to you. Your breath got caught in your throat when you felt his on your neck. Your eyes locked, and all of a sudden, you wondered how it was possible that you never noticed how beautiful his eyes were. 

“May the odds be ever in your favour, darling,” he whispered, and then he walked away without giving you another glance.

That night, Finnick didn’t leave your mind. It wasn’t until there was a resident of the Capitol lying on top of you that you stopped thinking about him. When you were in that position, you stopped thinking about everything, really.

When you walked out of your hotel room, done with your little job, Finnick was brought back to the forefront of your mind as your eyes met his. He looked like he was in the same state as you, also having been leaving a room. He looked surprised to see you.

You stared at him for a moment, but then you let yourself disappear down the hallway before he could say anything.

You knew what that meant; you knew it wasn’t his own room that he was leaving. When you got to your own room, you realized you were much more alike than you thought. You supposed that you couldn’t be surprised; Finnick was desirable, so of course Snow would put him up for sale.

You were in the exact same boat.

Since that night, you saw him in a different light.

You two didn’t talk when you got back home, no, but at your next Capitol event, you decided that you’d refuse to leave him alone, to leave someone who was going through the same thing as you to their own devices. That’s what you told yourself, but deep down, you just didn’t want to suffer in silence, either.

So you went and found him after a night with another Capitol pig. Standing outside, hands in his pockets, he looked so calm, but you saw a storm brewing in his eyes that only few could ever decipher.

You went and stood next to him, even though it was freezing cold out. He glanced over at you, and then his face became surprised, not surprise at you being there, but at you being there with him. Neither of you said anything; it was either that you were too afraid of a jabberjay overhearing or of yourselves. You just stood there in a comfortable silence.

You’d learn that, with Finnick, sometimes doing nothing could mean everything.

The two of you went on to do this every time you were there until, slowly, you graduated from just silence to holding each other. Oh, Finnick Odair was a cocky asshole, but when you were in the Capitol, he wasn’t him and you weren’t you. You were just two people that needed comfort, and that was enough.

You still didn’t talk, though, and when you were at home, you didn’t communicate at all. That was why you were surprised when you answered your door to see him standing on the other side.

Finnick went back to being Finnick, striding into your home without so much as an invitation. This caused you to roll your eyes, but they suddenly widened at his words. “Caesar Flickerman is on TV, saying that we’re dating.”

If you were drinking something, you would’ve spit it out. “What?” An incredulous look was painted onto your face.

Finnick, on the other hand, was a little more stoic, not exactly the charmer he was on television or in Capitol balls, but you could easily guess why—and if you hadn’t, then he was gonna tell you, anyways. “You know what this means.” He looked you in the eye, jaw clenched. “Two of Snow’s best—the Prince and Princess of Panem—dating? It’s the last thing he wants.”

“Finnick-”

“No, he won’t be able to sell us if we’re together, and if he can’t sell us, then he’ll start killing the people we love.” This was the first time either of you were even acknowledging the situation you were in.

You felt stung for some reason, even though you didn’t love Finnick—and he didn’t love you. But, deep down, no matter how much you tried to repress it, you knew there was something between you, so hearing him speak to you this way, like you were just nothing, hurt.

However, you got over your feelings quickly, the same way you always had. You moved your thoughts away from your heart and started thinking with your head. You were quiet for a second until you let out a soft gasp, like a light bulb went off in your head.

This time, you made eye contact with Finnick effortlessly. “What if this is exactly what we need?” You asked, a glint in your eye that he hadn’t seen before.

The blond scoffed. “I don’t see how our families dying is exactly what we need, Y/N.”

“No- no, Finnick, you already said it.” You grabbed onto his shoulders. “The Capitol- hell, everyone already thinks we’re the Prince and Princess of Panem. If we give them what they want, then- then we’d be unstoppable.” You paused to let him weigh in, but he only stared heavily at you, not a trace of what he was thinking on display, so you continued, “Snow and all of those Capitol motherfuckers will eat this shit up, Finnick. And then we’ll be free.”

You were trying not to show any emotion, either, but you couldn’t help it. At the mere thought of freedom, something you never thought was possible, you felt so many different things at once. While you were holding your feelings on your sleeve, Finnick was less easy to read.

But, in seconds, you knew exactly how he felt.

“We will never be free, Y/N.”

He walked out after that, leaving you alone in your living room. He’d never know it, but you stayed in that same spot for three hours, staring at where he once stood. His words had awakened something in you, the part of yourself that’d been thrown into the Hunger Games at only fifteen-years-old. 

At the time, you thought you were going to die. You were hopeless, but after you won, you realized there was hope after all. You could still make it. Even as Snow allowed your body to be violated, your mind to deteriorate, you still had hope. But Finnick’s words brought back that frightened little girl in you that you thought died.

You’d later realize just how lucky you were that he buried her again. He came back and told you that he’d do it, and as easily as he brought that little girl back to life, he drowned her.

It wasn’t easy at first, pretending to be in love. You didn’t know the first thing about it, but Finnick helped you as if he’d been doing it all his life.

“C’mon, Y/N, it’s gonna be fine-”

“No, it’s not gonna be fine. Caesar’s gonna call us out immediately- and if he doesn’t, then Snow will-”

“Y/N.” Finnick cut off your nervous ramblings with a stern calling of your name. Even him saying your name was still weird to you. You weren’t used to so much conversation with the victor, but now you were gonna have to pretend to love him. “We’re gonna be fine.”

You weren’t convinced, and he saw that with the twitching of your fingers. You knew Finnick was a great actor, and normally you were, too, but this situation was unlike any other that you’d ever been in. It was foreign territory for you.

“Look,” he grabbed onto your hand, “whenever you get nervous up there, you just hold my hand, alright? You’re not alone in this, okay? I’m right here.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say your heart skipped a beat. If you didn’t know any better, you’d even say you felt a spark when his skin met yours.

For a second, you pretended that you weren’t pretending. You pretended that you were holding hands because you were two kids in love, not because you had to survive. You pretended you were never in The Games, that you never killed so ruthlessly just to live without truly living. You pretended that you weren’t you, and Finnick wasn’t Finnick, and you were holding hands just because, not because you were about to go on TV and lie.

But that second ended far too quickly as you pulled your hand out of his grasp, nodding. “Okay,” you took a deep breath, repeating his words to yourself, “we’re gonna be okay.”

“Of course, we are. Now tell me again how we met.”

When the time came for the actual interview, you never let Finnick’s hand go.

The experience became more familiar to you as you went on. It was the same as any other show you’d put on for the Capitol. When you were younger, you dreamed of being a storyteller.

Now, you told stories of a life of yours that’d never existed.

Finnick and you were thrusted into the public eye, reciting the same stories day after day. It almost felt like it was actually real, and sometimes, you wished it was.

He’d look at you with a look of love in his eyes in front of all of the cameras, touching you tenderly. Oh, he was a wonderful liar. He even made you believe it for a second, too. But you knew that no such thing would ever happen.

Finnick Odair would never fall for a girl like you. Even if you were slowly falling for him.

During nights alone, you’d marvel at the turn of events. Finnick was once a man that you hated, but now look at you. You didn’t even know if you were faking it anymore. But it is fake, you’d remind yourself. He doesn’t love you, and you won’t love him.

You weren’t gonna let yourself love him. Truth be told, you were never gonna let yourself love anybody in the first place. Loving someone only made a new liability, a new weakness for the Capitol to exploit, but you could not love Finnick.

You’d been through a lot; your heart had taken many blows and survived, but you knew loving Finnick would only one day break it into a million little pieces. Still, it’s not like he made it easy.

You were lying in your bed- your shared bed with Finnick. Since announcing that you were dating, you moved in with him. You both decided it’d be easier to hide it all that way, easier for the public to believe, too. Sharing a bed was his idea—“just in case,” he’d said.

You wanted to object, but what would you even tell him? That you were afraid of falling in love with him? You would never even put the mere idea into his head. So you went along with it.

It was funny, though: you never went to bed alone, but that’s still how it felt. Being next to him, under the covers… it didn’t make you as warm as you hoped it would.

He didn’t live with anyone else. From what you gathered, Mags, your shared mentor, was his only family. His parents died of sickness early on; Mags took him in and kept him alive, all the way up until he was sent to The Games. Finnick didn’t get sappy with you often, but you knew that he couldn’t lose her.

What he was doing for Snow, he was doing for Mags. You thought Mags was the only person he cared about, but you learned that this wasn’t true. There was one other person who he was close to, who he’d do anything to keep safe. That person was Annie Cresta.

You met her once. She was beautiful and sweet, so you understood immediately why Finnick was in love with her. He never talked to you about her, but you could tell just from how he looked at her that she was the light of his life, even if she herself wasn’t aware of that.

Annie was good, the perfect girl for Finnick. She didn’t come with all the baggage you had, she wasn’t as rude, and she always knew what to say. You would’ve wanted them together, too, if it weren’t for the fact that Finnick was becoming your Annie. He was becoming your person, and so it killed you to know that not only was he in love with another girl, but he was also unhappy.

He’d never be happy with you. While you wished you could spare him the torment and just let him be with her, you had people you cared about, too, and he was now also on that list. So your job was to keep you all alive, not happy.

The door to your bedroom opened, interrupting your train of thought. You faced away from the entrance, but you knew it was Finnick. He had perfected soundless footsteps, even though you weren’t in an arena anymore. But you supposed you were still fighting for your lives, anyway.

He climbed into bed, letting out a big exhale when his back hit the mattress. You didn’t greet him, nor did he greet you, even though he knew you were awake. You’d gone through this whole song and dance already. You had to pretend in front of the cameras; you weren’t gonna do that in here, too.

The two of you were silent. This wasn’t a silence like before when you stood together in the Capitol after those horrible nights. This was a silence that was suffocating.

Things were never the same after you decided to go through with this charade. Maybe you were almost friends before, but now you were allies at most, just there to help the other survive. Oh, you wished you could be friends, but life was never so kind.

As if he could hear you begging for companionship, he whispered, “Y/N?”

Your breath hitched. “Yes?”

There was a beat of silence before his response. You wondered what his face looked like, but you wouldn’t dare turn around. “Can we- can we just be together tonight?”

Out of all the things he could’ve said, that didn’t even make your list. You sharply inhaled. Finnick didn’t sound like Finnick at all. He sounded small, and vulnerable, and scared, all states that he’d never let you see him in. But he was.

“What do you mean?” You didn’t turn around. “We are together.”

So unlike Finnick, he stammered, “No, I mean- can I- I want to hold you.”

If this were the dance you compared it to in your head, then you’d be stumbling over your own feet. He’d never asked about anything like that before. In fact, Finnick never even seemed to like you or this predicament much. Sure, you interested him, and maybe you were friends, but you knew that if he could’ve pick anyone else to dance this dance with, he would’ve.

You wondered what brought him to this point. Maybe it had something to do with Annie, but at that moment, you couldn’t bother thinking about it. He’d never know it, but you could never say no to him.

So you turned around and let him wrap his arm around you. But little did he know, you obliged not just to comfort him, but also yourself.

You’d fall asleep in Finnick’s arms every night after that. 

You’d always been so independent, so alone, that you forgot what it felt like to lean on someone, even if it was just for a little while in the dead of night. But when Finnick held you, sleep came easier and nightmares came less.

He had no idea that he became your knight in shining armour; he never meant to, but he did. Soon after you started “dating,” Snow left you alone. You still attended Capitol parties, still mentored kids every year, but you no longer found yourself in bed with members of Snow’s cabinet, and neither did Finnick.

It was easier once it stopped, but you still had to grapple with the pain of what had already happened to you; all of this didn’t even take into account The Games. Sure, you were done, but you still had to come back once a year and prepare a kid to kill or be killed. Nothing dredged up old memories like that did.

Doing it with him was what got you through it. When you lost a kid, Finnick was there to hold you and reassure you and himself that it wasn’t your fault, that you couldn’t have done much more to stop it. At times like those especially, you had to reel yourself in and remind yourself that, yes, he cared for you, but he wasn’t in love with you.

There were times that every bone in your body told you the exact opposite, that Finnick’s actions told you the exact opposite. Sometimes, he’d kiss you for the cameras and made you fall for it, too.

God, you were a team, such a great team. Would it be so horrible of you to assume you could be more?

You’d later realize that, yes, it was.

Because at the reaping for the 70th Hunger Games, Annie Cresta’s name was called and your little fantasy of a relationship with Finnick was shattered to pieces.

His usually calm demeanour was broken as he ran toward her as soon as you both got on the train, engulfing her in a hug and soothing her while she sobbed. You just watched from the sidelines, a frown on your face. You wished you were frowning because your dear friend Annie was just chosen to be in a fight to the death, but you were frowning because Finnick had never hugged you like that.

There were no cameras here; this wasn’t for show. He never looked at you like that when there weren’t any cameras around.

You felt like you were intruding on a private moment, even though you were just standing there, even though you were supposed to be his girlfriend, not Annie. A girlfriend would’ve probably cleared her throat, interrupted the interaction, but you couldn’t find the courage to do that.

Instead, you waited for the moment to end and walked over to her yourself when Finnick stepped away, giving her a tight hug as if she hadn’t just brought you to the brink of tears. But that didn’t matter. Annie could possibly die, so your little feelings for Finnick were pretty insignificant at the moment.

You tossed those very feelings to the side, directing all your attention to preparing your tribute. Finnick was trying to explain everything, but he was too worried, so you took over for him, pushing forth all your efforts while he focused on the boy that’d been reaped from your district.

You always tried your best with the tributes, always, but this wasn’t just any tribute. This was Annie Cresta, your friend and the love of Finnick’s life. You needed her to make it out of this alive—Finnick wouldn’t survive without her.

You gave her every piece of advice you could think of during that trip, digging through your memory for things you might’ve even forgotten. You wished you could help the boy in the same way, but there could only be one victor in these Games, and it had to be her.

Remember that these are games, Annie. Don’t worry about the killing once you’re in the arena; you need to treat it like a game, like the other tributes are just pieces that need to be knocked off the board, you told her. You hated every word that came out of your mouth, but she needed to hear it. She needed to overcome the shock now so she didn’t get choked up during the actual Games like you did.

When the time finally came for you to send the tributes off into the arena, you hugged yourself, taking deep breaths to try and calm down. You imagined that it was Finnick’s arms that were around you, but you weren’t gonna ask him to comfort you. He was the one that needed comforting, but you knew he wouldn’t accept it, so you didn’t offer.

Instead, you worked your ass off to get Annie sponsors, to get people to like her as if they didn’t already. You didn’t sleep for days, and neither did Finnick until he accidentally fell asleep for a few hours one day.

You both watched as she took the tips you’d given her, using them in her own way. She was small, but she was smart and she picked up on how to play the game quickly.

Only when the last tribute was dead did a sigh of relief finally leave you. Your shoulders slumped as you sat in front of the TV. Finnick’s muttering fell upon deaf ears as static filled your brain. She made it, you thought. She’s okay.

But that didn’t make life any more okay.

After all, nobody ever really won The Games.

“Annie- Annie, it’s alright-” 

“No, it’s not!” You heard something break, like it had thrown it to the ground. When you walked further into your house, your guess was proven right. Finnick and Annie stood in your living room, the former worried and the latter frantic, pieces of a broken vase all over the ground.

“Nothing is okay, Finn! Nothing! Do you hear me- nothing is okay!” The redhead was pacing around with your so called boyfriend trying to stop and calm her down. They were both so panicked that neither of them noticed you, and you didn’t announce your presence, either.

You only stood from the side, just like on that Capitol train. The Annie that went into that arena was innocent. She was eighteen, but she was still more of a child than either of you ever got the chance to be. Now that she won, she didn’t look so innocent anymore.

She wore a look that was so familiar to you. She was alive, but Annie had never looked more like a ghost of herself.

“Annie, please-” Finnick’s voice cracked mid-sentence. He kept trying to get close to her, but she moved away every time. The tears in his eyes made yours watery, too. You had never seen him look so broken, not even as you stood in the Capitol together those cold nights after being used.

If you weren’t sure of how much Finnick loved Annie, you were now.

“No, no, nothing is okay!” She screamed, tears streaming down her face. She suddenly stopped, letting out a sob before collapsing onto the ground. Finnick ran to her right away, pulling her close and rocking her as she repeated the same thing over and over.

You hadn’t even noticed you were crying until you felt the tear falling onto your cheek, wiping at it immediately and turning around to walk away as quietly as you possibly could. You weren’t gonna just stand by and do nothing while Annie fell apart and Finnick cut himself trying to put the pieces back together. You couldn’t.

You found yourself in the kitchen, putting a kettle on the stove to distract yourself. Your eyes zeroed in on it as you tried to block out the sound of Annie’s crying, trying not to cry yourself. At one point, you succeeded, because you couldn’t hear anything anymore.

You don’t know how long you stood there, but you were eventually broken out of your trance by a hand reaching out in front of you to turn off the stove, moving the kettle. It was only now that you realized how loudly it was whistling.

You turned to see the hand belonged to Finnick who now poured the hot water into your expensive tea cups. They were a gift given to you by a patron of the Capitol, an old man with kids and a wife. He was somewhat of a regular of yours, and so he gave you that tea set to try and make himself feel better for what he was doing, along with many other gifts.

You never told Finnick any of this. You wondered if he would so readily pull them out if he knew where they came from.

He wordlessly put the tea bags into the cups, sliding one over on the island to where you stood. Then he brought the cup to his lips, taking a sip of the scalding liquid like it was nothing. You ignored your disbelief and the rational part of your brain, picking the cup to do the same thing.

When the tea met your tongue, it burned, even as it went down your throat, but you still went back in for a second sip, anyway. This pain was able to distract you from all the thoughts bouncing around in your head, and so that made it feel like it was worth it. You wondered if this was Finnick’s logic, too.

You didn’t say anything for a long while, didn’t ask about Annie or where she went. You knew he must’ve known that you heard what happened, but he didn’t mention it, either. You assumed that she fell asleep.

You wished you could fall asleep so easily, too.

Your song kept playing as you both danced around the same topics, standing together silently as your world crumbled. You danced, and danced, and danced, until your tea cups were empty, but the song was still playing.

Finnick’s voice cut through the silence of your music effortlessly, even though he was still so quiet.

“Sometimes, I think she would’ve been better off if she died.” You slowly brought your head up to meet his eyes, but they were aimed at the cup in his hand. He looked nothing like the Prince of Panem, the charming man who always had something witty to say. No, he looked beaten down, just as lifeless as Annie. Maybe you looked as lifeless as you felt, too; maybe you were all so unaware of how broken you seemed.

You didn’t know what to say to his confession. So you didn’t say anything at all.

You’d never know where that conversation would’ve went, because in seconds, Finnick collected your cups, put them in the sink, and then he left you standing there.

His words from before echoed through your head. We will never be free, Y/N.

And maybe he was right.

Annie was back home, but she never really came back from that arena—none of you did. Hell, you were thrusted into a life you never wanted, a victor’s life, as soon as you were out. You thanked God that Annie wasn’t gonna have to go through what you did; the way she was spinning out made her undesirable. At least a good thing came out of her losing it.

Oh, you were starting to find a silver-lining with everything. You had to—otherwise, you’d lose it, just like Annie. You had to find some sort of good in this situation because, otherwise, what was the point?

Time supposedly healed all wounds, but you felt like you were still bleeding. You just learned to conceal it better than others.

Before The Games, you had friends. Now you really only talked to Finnick, and you two didn’t talk much, either. Every now and then, you’d see Annie and Mags, but they weren’t your people. And your family… well, how close could you be with them after what happened? You weren’t the same girl your mother raised.

She could barely even look at you anymore.

But you couldn’t think about any of this. If you did, you’d fall apart, and you couldn’t do that. You had a role to play, an image to protect—for your safety, for your family’s safety, for his safety.

You couldn’t afford to break down like that in your living room and throw things. You wanted to, so badly, but you didn’t have that luxury.

So your song kept playing, and you danced along with it.

Finnick’s walls went back up, too. His charisma was like a light bulb that briefly flickered, but it was back now. He was dancing, too. But, without even realizing it, you both held each other tighter at night, as if you were trying not to lose the other to the tornado that was your life.

However, when you woke up, you both pretended the tornado didn’t even exist.

Annie wasn’t one for pretending. Oh, she got wrapped up into the tornado the second she was declared a victor and there was no saving her anymore. Yes, she would’ve been better off dead, maybe you all would’ve been, but if you thought about this for too long, if you let the song stop, then you’d get caught in the cyclone, too.

You pretended for a year, attending Capitol galas with a smile on your face, getting interviewed right next to Finnick with his hand in yours, acting like you were the picture perfect couple. He spoke about you like he knew you like the back of his hand, but truth be told, he didn’t know you at all; he barely ever tried to. You didn’t blame him, though; it was hard to try to talk to someone when the music was so loud.

Then came the 71st Hunger Games, and you were mentors again. Meeting the tributes, it was almost like the music stopped- almost. The girl was quiet but angry, and she reminded you so much of yourself. The boy kept cracking jokes that she didn’t laugh at, jokes that were probably inappropriate for a time like this, but you knew he wasn’t doing it to be an ass. This was his way of coping.

He reminded you of Finnick.

Looking at these kids was like looking into a mirror. On the last day of training, he finally got a reaction out of her, made her smile with a faint blush on her cheeks. Oh, these kids should’ve been laughing together in the diner back home, not on their way to die.

They were too young and too innocent. It makes you wonder if things would’ve been different if you and Finnick had met before The Games. Would that have made soothed the heartbreak?

You didn’t know. But when you saw that boy crying as he held her in that arena, blood pouring onto him from her stab-wound, you knew that heartbreak was what he felt.

Too young. They were too young.

The boy died too. He didn’t even put up a fight.

These kids were just kids, and they died young.

Just like you and Finnick did.

You sat in your room at the Capitol, swirling your scotch around in your glass. It was a crystal glass so beautiful you knew it could’ve only been crafted by hand, but you didn’t want to admire it; you wanted to throw it at the wall.

Their names were Delta and Aalto. Aalto was the more talkative one; he said he dreamed of opening his own bakery one day, right in the middle of the district with food that everyone could afford and enjoy.

He’d never get to do that now.

And Delta- she didn’t know what she wanted out of life yet. She never got the chance to figure it out.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.

The door to the room opened, making you look up from the liquor in your hand to see Finnick walking into the room. He looked defeated. Of course, he was better at hiding it than you were, but you knew how to read him better now, after all these years.

The bed dipped as he sat down next to you. You held your glass out, almost like a peace offering, and he took it without much thought, downing it in one go.

You sat there together the same way you had many times before, not saying a word. But this time felt different. It felt like there was something you were supposed to say. So you turned to look at Finnick, trying to see if he felt the same weight, only to see that he was already looking at you.

You could tell just by his eyes that he felt it, too. He opened his mouth, then closed it like he’d lost his train of thought. When you met him, you never thought you’d see the day when Finnick was speechless.

Look at how wrong you were.

You opened your mouth after a few seconds, wanting to articulate your feelings in some way, but Finnick’s lips slammed against yours before you get anything out. Without thinking, you kissed back; it felt like second-nature to you.

This wasn’t the first time you’d kissed, but he had never kissed you like this, so passionately, not a camera in sight. He was kissing you like you were air and he’d been holding his breath for so long, like you were the treasure he’d been searching for and he didn’t want to let go.

It felt like nothing you’d ever experienced.

When you eventually pulled away for air and opened your eyes, you were brought back to the real world. There was something you were supposed to say. But you quickly disregarded it, pulling him back in for another kiss before he could notice the way you were looking at him.

Yes, there was something you were supposed to say. But you couldn’t put it into words.

So you hoped that this kiss said everything that you couldn’t.

You were both grieving, and you were both there. And you knew that Finnick didn’t like you like that, so you weren’t gonna get your hopes up. This meant nothing, even if it felt like everything for you when it was happening.

He was the only person you’d ever done anything like this with before. You did things with those people Snow set you up with, but that didn’t count. You were doing this because you wanted to. You didn’t know if this was his first time or not, but you weren’t gonna ask. You did everything but talk for the rest of the night.

When you woke up, it was still dark out and Finnick was still asleep. You stared at him for a few seconds, his fluffy blond hair that you messed up, his swollen lips. He looked so peaceful like this; you couldn’t bear to wake him up and ruin that, bring him back to this nightmare.

So you got up as quietly as you could, wrapping yourself in a robe and closing the door to the bedroom, walking into the living room. The rooms the Capitol provided the victors were beautiful, but never beautiful enough to make you forget about the ugly reason that you were here.

You sat on the couch, exhaling and leaning back. You were gonna sit there in silence, but your song kept playing, and the record was skipping, and you were starting to get a headache, so you turned on the TV.

Without having to change the channel at all, you were immediately met with the news, Caesar Flickerman’s face on the flat screen. It wasn’t long before you realized why he was so excited: the Hunger Games were over. Someone won.

Caesar’s attitude made your mood go sour. He was behaving like twenty-three children weren’t just killed. It didn’t matter if they died of starvation, dehydration, an animal, or actually another tribute—it was all murder, and the Capitol was the perpetrator. It disgusted you that there were people who found enjoyment in watching these Games, Caesar Flickerman included. They’d pretend to be sympathetic, but at the end of the day, you were all just circus animals to them.

The victor’s face came onto the TV, and you immediately recognized her from the rankings. Johanna Mason. Caesar kept talking, explaining how Johanna had managed to cause so many people to be enamoured of her, and you suddenly felt sick.

Snow was gonna jump at this opportunity. He was gonna use her, too.

You turned off the TV, going back to your room and getting back into bed like you’d never left. Your song came back on, and you went back to preferring to listen to it instead of your own thoughts. You weren’t gonna think about Johanna much longer; there wasn’t any point.

There was nothing you could do.

The next time you woke up and it was actually morning, you were surprised to see that Finnick was still there. While you were sleeping, he managed to snake his arms around you. 

You didn’t get up, even though there were Capitol duties to attend to.

You stayed in bed and pretended that you were a normal couple, that maybe Finnick actually felt something for you, that you weren’t in the Capitol right now, that the world wasn’t so fucked up, that you weren’t so fucked up. But you didn’t pretend for long, eventually getting up and facing the world that you didn’t want to be apart of but had been sucked into.

He didn’t tell you this, but he was pretending, too.

You both went to the gatherings you had to go to, talked to the people you had to talk to, kept smiles on your faces, and shook Snow’s hand, even though it made you want to puke. You endured it all—you both did. The Prince and Princess of Panem…

You realized it was true what they said, heavy is the head that wears the crown. This figurative crown was weighing you down; you wondered if it’d be so coveted if people got the chance to feel how you felt.

Then you went back home, even if it didn’t really feel like a home to you. It was still all you had. But Finnick kept surprising you.

Your dance suddenly changed. The song was still playing, but the dance was different, almost like that night you’d spent together had actually meant something.

You started having dinner together every night. Before, you often forgot to eat, but now how could you? You were beginning to look forward to your daily dinners; there wasn’t much more to look forward to in the life you led.

He made it hard for you not to fall even more in love with him.

You two still didn’t talk during dinner, but it almost did feel normal, like you were a family- like you could be a family.

And then the dance changed again, and that dream felt even more real.

You pulled your chair out at your dinner table, sitting down across from Finnick. You were both dressed “down” in more comfortable clothes, but you knew there was some people in the district that still couldn’t afford them. That bothered you, but when you had dinner, most of your worries were pushed to the back of your mind.

When you two had dinner, you just enjoyed the dance.

You were a few minutes into dinner when you noticed that Finnick wasn’t eating but he was staring at you. He hadn’t stared at you like that since when you first met, so curiously, like you were a secret he wanted to be let in on.

You couldn’t ignore his stare, even if you tried. However, you tried to act nonchalant. “Is there something you want to say?” You quizzed, twirling another bite of pasta like you were unaffected by his gaze.

Finnick responded in the same beat, so much like the Finnick that was charismatic and lively, not the quiet one you normally lived with. “Something I want to ask you, actually.”

“Oh,” you said, immediately kicking yourself at how stupid you sounded. “Well, ask away.” He didn’t need to be told twice.

“What’s your favourite colour?” 

You were caught off guard by his question, blinking like you were trying to figure out if you just imagined him saying him that or if he really did. He blinked back at you but never faltered.

“What?”

He repeated himself, slower this time. “What is your favourite colour?” You blinked again when you realized he was being totally serious. “You know, colours, like a rainbow-”

“I know what colours are, Finnick.”

“Ohhhh.” His eyes got big as if he thought you actually didn’t know what a rainbow was. “Sorry, you were just looking at me like I had said the most absurd thing you’ve ever heard. So what’s your favourite colour?”

You couldn’t stop the corners of your lips going up as his grin just got wider. God, you hadn’t seen him smile like that in so long. It actually looked real.

You thought about it for a second, looking right into his eyes when you came up with an answer. “It’s blue, not really dark or light either. Sort of green- it’s close to grey, too.”

He looked at you for a few seconds before blurting, “Y/N, that sounds like the least vibrant shade of blue I’ve ever heard of.”

You laughed. “It’s vibrant to me!” He laughed, too, shaking his head like you were crazy. That shade of blue that you described was more vibrant than any other blue you’d ever seen. You could never tired of looking at it whenever you looked into Finnick’s eyes.

When the laughter died down, you asked him the same question. “Okay, now what’s your favourite colour?”

He shrugged. “Don’t have one.”

You scoffed, “Oh, come. on. You have to have a favourite colour; you can’t be that boring.”

“That boring? I’m not boring at all,” he argued, a look of faux offence on his face.

You snorted. “I beg to differ.”

“I can make you beg a lot more if you don’t take that back.” Your eyes immediately went wide and, against your will, a faint redness spread on your cheeks.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he said, crossing his arms. He looked pleased at the reaction he got out of you. “Take it back.”

You scoffed again, but you weren’t sure if it was because of your stubbornness or because you wanted to see how far you could push him. “I’m not taking anything back.”

He just stared at you for a few seconds before flashing that famous smirk of his, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “Really?”

You crossed your arms, too, nodding. “Mhm.”

He chuckled. “We’ll see if you still feel that way in the morning.”

And then he spent the rest of the night showing you just how boring he wasn’t.

The day after, you didn’t wake up dejected but instead with a smile on your face. You didn’t get out of bed at all, staying in Finnick’s arms. You felt giddy, like a school girl. There were no thoughts of his lack of feelings for you, Annie, or The Games. You just laid there and enjoyed the moment.

It didn’t even feel like you were pretending.

When Finnick woke up, you did it all over again. You ended up staying in bed all day together, cancelling your plans.

And when the time came to get out of bed, to go back to the real world, the music didn’t go back to normal. It was more upbeat now. You kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the beat to drop, but it didn’t.

Finnick didn’t pretend like you two sleeping together never happened. In fact, you two kept doing it almost every day. You actually had conversations during dinner. You learned basic things about him that you hadn’t known in all of the time you were living together.

He made you laugh often. You stopped crying so much.

Is this what happiness feels like? you wondered. If it was, you never wanted anything different. Whatever Finnick felt for you, it didn’t matter. As long as he kept making you happy, it didn’t matter.

You were so in love with him that it stopped mattering if he reciprocated your feelings. You didn’t want anything to ruin this, what you had. Your relationship was the most special thing you’d ever had, even if you didn’t know what to call it, so you were gonna do your damn best to hold onto it.

The things he’d say in front of the cameras felt real, then the things he did when you were alone made you believe it even more. Whatever this was between you, it felt real.

So real.

You were stirring something on the stove when two arms snaked around your waist, tickling you, making a squeal fly from your lips. “Finnick!” You screeched, trying to suppress your giggles as you turned around. The culprit (who was shirtless) didn’t look guilty at all, a shit-eating grin on his face. You shoved his shoulder. “I am trying to cook us breakfast.”

He snorted. “Yeah, trying and failing.” You shoved him again, causing him to laugh. “I’m sorry, you can’t cook!”

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes. “I’ll have you know, I can cook very well, actually.”

He wrapped his arms around you again. “You know, you’re cute when you pout.”

“I’m not pouting!” You exclaimed, but a blush still arose on your cheeks that Finnick noticed right away. It was almost like he was always watching for those types of things, always trying to say or do something to get you red.

“You’re even cuter when you blush.” 

Your blush worsened, but you weren’t gonna give him the satisfaction of your defeat. “I’m not blushing. We’re in a kitchen, and it’s hot.”

He pulled you closer to him, grin widening. “Don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart, about your blushing or your cooking.” He glanced behind you. “Oh, look, burnt food.”

Your eyes went wide, immediately turning around. You groaned when you saw the brown eggs and the trail of smoke coming from them. “It’s all your fault, Finn, you distracted me.”

He gave your head a kiss, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “Sure, darling, whatever you say.” Luckily, you were turned away from him so he couldn’t see how your cheeks reddened. You still weren’t used to the pet names, even though Finnick seemed to adore them. “Let’s leave the cooking to me from now on.”

You lightly scoffed, “Whatever.” He kissed your cheek before you started walking away, planning to sit on the couch while you waited for him to cook the food. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was probably smug.

“Who messes up eggs?” he muttered under his breath once you were a few feet away.

“I heard that, Finnick!” you shouted, but he only let out a loud laugh.

You shook your head at him, plopping down onto the couch in the adjoining living room and turning the TV on, but it was really just background noise. You found it much more enticing to watch Finnick cook. The way he moved so swiftly looked effortless; he knew what he was doing, that was sure. And it didn’t help that he was shirtless.

You discreetly stared at him for a while—or, you thought you were being discreet. Without looking up from what he was doing, he teased, “You know that I can feel you ogling at me, right?”

You went red as a tomato. “Shut up, Finnick!” you shrieked, turning back to the TV as if you even knew what was playing. His laugh boomed and you turned up the volume to tune it out, only causing him to laugh even louder.

Even though you were thoroughly embarrassed that he’d caught you staring at him, a smile still found its way onto your face. Around Finnick, it was hard not find a reason to smile.

You’d be content if you didn’t do anything for the rest of your life but wake up to him every day.

You spent many more mornings like that together, and lunches, and dinners, and everything in between. You exchanged jokes and playful banter constantly. Finnick really did make your cheeks hurt.

But he knew when to be serious.

There were still nights when you’d wake up from nightmares, and he’d comfort you back to sleep every time. When you caught him in a nightmare, you’d try your best to repay the favour, even though that didn’t happen often. He rarely wanted you to see him like that, so he hid his nightmares, but you did everything you could to keep him happy while he was awake to make up for it.

When you went to the Capitol, all of the darkness crept back in, squeezing in through the cracks of the walls that you’d built—for both of you. But you kept each other grounded. You weren’t alone.

Once, he had to talk you back from the edge as you had a panic attack in the bathroom. He locked the door and stayed there with you until you calmed down. You told him that you saw someone you hadn’t seen up close in a while, an old patron, and that just opened the floodgates. You saw his hands ball up into fists; he tried to hide the anger on his face, but you saw it and you understood it. 

He was angry at the Capitol, and so were you. He’d been through the same things you had, and that made it so much easier to cope, to have someone that understood. He understood for you and you understood for him, and so when things were bad, they at least became more okay. As long as you were there for each other, things were okay.

Meeting Johanna Mason at a later event nearly brought you right back to the brink. Her family was dead, she’d told you. And you wished you hadn’t understood so fast. You wished that none of you ever had to understand these things, that you could’ve stayed kids for longer before childhood was ripped away from you.

It’s not fair, you cried to Finnick. He killed her family. She said no, and he killed her family.

He let you cry on his shoulder, rubbing his hand up and down your back as he whispered, I know. It’s not fair, I know. But it was the world you lived in, and, unfortunately, neither of you had the power to do anything about it, even though you were the so called Prince and Princess of Panem.

So you did what you could. You were there for Johanna like how you were there for Finnick when you still didn’t know him. Both of you were there for her, teaching her the moves to your dance so she could dance with you while you were all at the Capitol together.

She was brutally honest, maybe even rude to the average onlooker, but it was what The Games did to her. Finnick and you understood that, and that led to you both forming a friendship with her. Coping with other people, people who understood, was the best painkiller that not even money could provide.

The Games were the hardest, but you went through that together, too. You trained those tributes with everything you had. You tried your best, but sometimes, not even that was enough to keep them alive. Finnick and you would grieve together. At times, he was more rational than you, reminding you that it wasn’t your fault, that these were games made to kill.

Whatever you went through, you went through it together. The good days, the bad days, the laughs, the tears—you were together every step of the way.

Things went like this for years. You really were a team, and nothing could convince you otherwise this time. You loved him more and more each day, but you never told him that; you didn’t need to, and you didn’t need him to love you, either. Being there, being together was good enough.

Your song never got old. You were so in sync as you danced. Oh, you never would’ve thought that Finnick Odair of all people would not only make your life bearable, but also joyful.

You were fake boyfriend and girlfriend, and yeah those lines started to blur, but you also became best friends over time. 

Finnick and you lied together in bed, the TV going on in the background. Your head was on his chest as he pet your hair. It was your seventh time doing this mentor thing, but it never seemed to get easier.

Your tributes were promising, but they still died early on, even though you both got them as many sponsors as you could. Mentors were usually down in the lobby, talking to sponsors and watching The Games with everyone else, but after your tributes died, there was no point.

So you went upstairs, and you both just lied there. It was one of those times where neither of you had to say anything. You were together, alive together, and that was enough.

Listening to Finnick’s heartbeat could calm you down in any situation. You must’ve been doing something to help him, too, because his heartbeat was steady. You stayed like that for a bit until he moved a bit, murmuring under his breath, “What?”

He sat up, making you sit up, too, while he grabbed the remote, turning the volume up. You glanced at it and the scene immediately caught your attention. You heard the last bits of what the announcer was saying, that a rule about two victors was being annulled. Your brows furrowed; you must not have seen the part where any such thing was declared.

You recognized the tributes who you quickly realized were the last people left standing. They were the kids from district 12, the Girl on Fire and the boy in love with her.

You scoffed. “Of course, they want the star-crossed lovers to battle to the death.” You were about to turn away, refusing to indulge in the Capitol’s bullshit, but Finnick grabbed onto your arm.

“Wait.”

You stopped, turning back. The girl, Katniss, had a bow and arrow in her hands. Peeta was a few steps away from her. They were both staring at each other, Katniss looking like she didn’t know what do, but Peeta looked like he already accepted that he was going to die.

You didn’t want to watch this, watch two people fall apart on television, but for some reason, this had captured Finnick’s attention.

One of us should go home, he said. One of us has to die; they have to have their victor. Katniss was already shaking her head.

No. She dropped her arrow to the ground, walking forward. They don’t.

You tilted your head, but you understood what was happening when she pulled a handful of berries from her pocket. “Holy shit.”

Peeta grabbed her hand, rejecting the idea immediately, but she whispered, Trust me. He must’ve really been in love with her, because he did. She poured some berries into the palm of his hand, making you lean closer.

“You don’t think they’re gonna…” you trailed off, puzzled. There were people that’d killed themselves in past games, but this had never happened. There was always a victor.

Peeta hesitated, but looked sure when he looked back into Katniss’ eyes. Together? he mumbled.

She repeated his words. Together. She looked up for a second, and then you suddenly recognized the look on her face. This was a bluff.

They counted down from three, and just as they were gonna bring the berries to their mouths, the announcer frantically cut in, Stop- stop! He cleared his throat. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the winners… of the 74th Annual Hunger Games.

Relief flooded into Katniss’ eyes as she embraced Peeta in a hug. Shock flowed through you, and Finnick’s expression was no different.

Once you had processed the information, you couldn’t help the grin that grew on your face, disbelief and pride filling you at the same time. “They just screwed the Capitol.”

You turned to see him smirking. “Hell yeah, they did.”

And this made your Hunger Games experience just a little bit better.

Neither of you were surprised that Seneca Crane was found dead days later. He made a grave mistake, letting two victors win. Snow wouldn’t have that, and you could guess why.

What Katniss and Peeta did was causing chatter, sparking hope. People in district 4 were more hush-hush about it, but outlying districts, like 11, had gone into revolts. The Capitol must’ve been stressed, and knowing that brought you some sick form of comfort.

Katniss and Peeta were spinning their actions, making them out to be this act of love, like they couldn’t bear to live without each other, but you and Finnick saw right through it. After all, if there was anyone who could spot a fake relationship, it was you two.

However, the two love-birds flew from your mind when you got home. You were brought back to your little world, living life alongside Finnick. The urge grew to ask him what you were, if you were still in a fake relationship just like Katniss and Peeta or if this was real, as real as you felt it was, but you didn’t wanna mess up the one good thing you had going.

The truth was, you don’t know how long you would’ve made it without him.

Finnick was your lifeline, and he had no idea.

The next time you were at the Capitol, you were in the Presidential Palace for the so called biggest party of the year. It was always hosted right before the Hunger Games, so being there gave you many things to be anxious about.

But, like always, you concealed it, smiling and shaking hands with the people you came across, even as you were disgusted. Some of these people, the very people who paid for your body at sixteen, were there with their families. You wondered how they could have children and still do what they did.

You were a child, too.

Normally, Finnick would be there to calm you down, but he snuck off somewhere without telling you.

You were wandering around, trying to find him when a head of brown hair streaked with red came into your view. “Hey, Princess.”

A sigh left your lips, both out of relief that you found someone you knew and discontent at the nickname. “Hey, Jo.” You would usually make conversation with her, but you were pretty distracted, glancing around behind her. “Have you seen Finnick anywhere? I’ve been looking for him for a while now.”

When you looked back to her, a look you couldn’t decipher flashed across her face, but it was gone in an instant. “No, can’t say I have.”

For some reason, you got a weird feeling from her. It was almost like she knew something that you didn’t.

“Hey, why don’t we go grab a bite while we wait for him?” She suggested, gesturing to the buffet. “I’m starving.”

You shook your head, dazed. “I’ll catch up with you- I’m just gonna go to the bathroom.”

She perked up. “I’ll go with you.”

You were quick to decline. “No, that’s fine; go eat. I’ll be back in a sec.” She was hesitant  for reasons you couldn’t fathom, but she eventually nodded, agreeing to meet you later.

You walked through the halls, passing the bathrooms and not even sparing them a glance. You didn’t really know why you lied about where you were going, but in that moment, it felt like instinct. You trusted Johanna, but you were catching the same weird vibe from countless other people. All you wanted was to find Finnick and have him tell you everything was alright.

You didn’t have to look long before you found him, outside along with many other partygoers. But he wasn’t alone. Standing next to him was a man you’d just recently seen on TV. You just couldn’t remember his name.

You made your way over to them. They cut themselves off as soon as they saw you, not letting you overhear a single detail of whatever they were talking about. You stifled the reappearance of that weird feeling that was starting to feel a lot like suspicion. “Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen.”

Finnick waved you off, “No, it’s fine, sweetheart.” He pulled you into his side, kissing your temple. “This is Plutarch Heavensbee.” A lightbulb went off in your head as you looked to the man.

He was Seneca Crane’s replacement.

What the hell was Finnick doing talking to him?

“It’s an honour and a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N,” he greeted, holding his hand out. There was something about him that was throwing you off, not just your revelation of who he was, but you still shook his hand.

“Pleasure’s mine, Mr. Heavensbee,” you replied, smiling your umpteenth fake smile of the night. But you had an inkling that no one in the Capitol was as genuine as they seemed.

Plutarch didn’t try to stay and make small talk like the rest of the people you encountered at the Capitol, bidding you both farewell and wishing you a good night. Something told you his departure had something to do with your arrival.

Once he was out of earshot, you turned in Finnick’s arms. “Was that the new head Gamemaker?” He nodded, but didn’t offer any explanation. You furrowed your brows. “What were you talking about?” 

Finnick shrugged nonchalantly, but for some reason, he seemed tense. “He wanted to meet the youngest victor of The Games.”

You found that hard to believe, holding back a scoff. “Well, he didn’t seem too interested in meeting me.”

A smile arose on his face as he wrapped his arms back around your waist. “That is because you, darling, are not the youngest person to ever win.”

This time, you did scoff, but the tense atmosphere dissipated. “You’re a dick.”

“You love me.” Your heart nearly stopped, but you kept your composure. You did love him, more than he’d ever know.

You shook your head, acting unaffected. “C’mon, Johanna’s waiting for us by the buffet.” You tried walking away, but your faux façade of annoyance was broken by Finnick latching onto your hand and walking forward with you, chuckling.

And then the entire matter of everyone’s weird behaviour was pushed to the back of your mind.

Returning home from the Capitol was always peaceful, like a weight being lifted off your shoulders, but this time was unlike any of those other times. When you got home, the so called peace that the Capitol so delicately crafted was ripping at the seams.

The chatter from before, from when Katniss and Peeta defied the Capitol, was louder than ever. They had just gone on their victor’s tour, right before you left for the Presidential Palace, and they had apparently sparked a reaction in just about every district they visited, yours included.

You found out that district 4 had been in a revolt since Everdeen and Mellark came and gave their speech. The people were outraged. The news talked about seafood shortages due to bad weather, but the Capitol just didn’t want to let Panem know what was going on, that people were refusing work, that Peacekeepers were murdering innocent people left and right for the smallest of incidents.

When you were all caught up with what had happened, you were furious, too. You wanted to march out onto the streets and give the Capitol the finger, but Finnick pulled you back. 

“What are you gonna do, Y/N?” he questioned, not even giving you the time to answer. “You don’t even know.”

Your voice was vicious as you responded, a tone you’d never given him. You were angry, and you both knew you weren’t thinking clearly; you just didn’t care. “I don’t know right now, but I’m gonna do something, Finnick.” You tried pulling your arm away, but he was much stronger than you.

“I’m not gonna let you go out there and get yourself killed.” You could tell by his demeanour that he was angry, but not for the same reasons that you were.

You shook your head. “You of all people should understand where I’m coming from.”

His eyes went hard. “You must not know me well if you think I’d let my girlfriend kill herself.” That shut you up.

His girlfriend.

He called you his girlfriend.

You got over the shock and, suddenly, you were even more angry than before. While you could pretend all you wanted to that you lived in candy-land, the cruel reality was still there. Finnick didn’t love you. He was only playing with your emotions.

Tears built up in your eyes: sad tears, angry tears—they were everything tears. You felt everything. “I’m your girlfriend now?”

He scoffed, “Oh, come on, Y/N. You can’t be serious right now.”

“I am so serious right now.” 

At your deadpan, he finally let go of your arm, running a hand through his hair. A part of you felt bad that he was so stressed, but you were stressed, too. He looked like he was trying to figure out what to say when he looked back up at you. His voice was no longer harsh, but small. “Y/N, please.”

You swallowed. 

“I’m just asking you to trust me.” He grabbed onto your hands. “Please just trust me.” He was begging you.

“Trust you to do what?”

“I just need you to trust me, Y/N, please.” He held your hands tighter. “Trust me.”

Oh, it didn’t matter how angry you were, if your thoughts were set in stone. Finnick would still be able to mold you like clay. Every time.

“I trust you.”

There was something different about him, but you were too distracted to try and figure it out.

There were so many things going on.

You were with Annie when it happened. Oh, that must have been some cruel joke from the universe. You were walking through the town square, on your way to Victors’ Village with pastries from the bakery in your hands. You were slowed down by the all of the people congregating together, watching the screen.

President Snow was announcing the third Quarter Quell, and they were eating it up. You weren’t gonna do that, entertain his lunacy. You’d go the Capitol and play your role, but you weren’t gonna watch these broadcasts anymore. You weren’t gonna play along.

Finnick could explain it to you later so you’d be able to prep your tributes. The Quells were always made out to be the hallmark of The Games; they were always harder. You felt for whatever kids would have to go through them.

You felt a lot more once you realized who these tributes were gonna be.

You weren’t listening to what Snow was was saying, but his words cut through any sort of mental block you had. “On this, the third Quarter Quell Games, the male and female tributes are… to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district.” 

Your stopped walking as if you’d hit a wall, the stuff in your hands falling the ground, but it was almost like you didn’t hear it. You stopped hearing anything, not Snow explaining the condition or everyone’s gasps. Your ears rang. Everything was muffled like you were underwater.

You were done. You were supposed to be done. You went through those Games, you won, and now you were supposed to be done.

He was gonna make you go through it all over again.

You were so shocked that you pinched yourself, like you were a child and this was some nightmare, and even though you didn’t wake up, even though you knew you were awake, you were still caught in a nightmare that you’d have to die to escape from.

Your senses came back to you and you spun around, pulling Annie into a tight hug the second you saw the tears streaming down her face. She muttered the same thing over and over into your shoulder.

“This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.”

She couldn’t go through this again. The Games broke her beyond repair. She couldn’t mentor because of it; she could barely ever attend any of the Capitol parties you and Finnick frequented. She would die in that arena, either mentally or physically.

You couldn’t let that happen.

Your song played on a loop in your mind, making the decision for you. You were reminded that, even though your dance may have changed, Finnick didn’t love you. He loved Annie, and he would be destroyed if she died.

You couldn’t let that happen.

You couldn’t let Mags go back into the arena, either. He needed her. These were the only people he cared about; you couldn’t let them go through this.

Then and there, you decided your fate.

You were gonna be the one to go back into the arena, and no one was gonna stop you.

When you and Annie had made it to your house, ignoring all of the looks of pity thrown your way, Finnick looked just as beaten down as you, but not surprised. You didn’t have time to analyze that.

He hugged Annie first, shooting you an apologetic look, but you didn’t understand what it was for. You knew what Annie meant to him.

You weren’t so deluded that you’d believe you came before her. Besides, she needed to be consoled more than you did. You were calm. Annie was lost right now, but you knew exactly where you were headed.

That night, once Annie left, your clothes came off, and you and Finnick had the softest sex you ever had. It was gentle, and you let yourself feel loved one last time. You let yourself be selfish and have this one thing, just one last time.

You knew that the odds of coming out of that arena were slim, so you kissed Finnick like you were gonna die the very next day. I just might, you thought. And then as you fell asleep in his arms, you pretended that everything was alright. You pretended that your dance wasn’t gonna end so soon, that you weren’t gonna sign your life away when you woke up, that Finnick really loved you, that he loved you just as much as you loved him. You pretended one last time.

The next day, you and all of the other victors walked to the Hall of Justice, escorted by a dozen Peacekeepers. There were so many male tributes. As terrible as it sounded, you were praying that it’d be one of them that was chosen, not Finnick. If he was, then you would throw away any chance you had of winning.

If he went in with you, then he’d be the one walking out.

Cassia Locke stood in the middle of the stage, in between the male and female victors. You found it funny, almost: you were victors, but now the Capitol was gonna rip that refuge away after they’d already taken everything from you.

Cassia was just another mutt in your eyes. She was district 4’s Capitol escort; she was meant to be an advisor, but she didn’t do that well, not for you or the other tributes you mentored. But you supposed you couldn’t be too surprised. Her job was to make spectacles, not survivors.

However, she almost looked human for a moment, glancing at the women sympathetically before she pulled out a folded paper from the bowl. You stood on edge; there were only three of you. Unbeknownst to you, Finnick also stood straighter in trepidation.

She cleared her throat, announcing, “The female tribute for the 75th Annual Hunger Games and third Quarter Quell is… Annie Cresta.”

Annie’s face fell, but you quickly stepped forward. “I volunteer as tribute.”

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Annie whispered, putting a hand on your shoulder, but you brushed her off and ignored her.

Cassia nodded. “Very well, then.” She moved back to the bowl. “Now for the males.”

You glanced over to see that Finnick was already looking at you, an unknown emotion written all over his face, though you realized what it was quickly. Betrayal.

You were confused why. If anything, he should’ve been relieved.

“The male tribute for the 75th Annual Hunger Games will be…” she unfolded the paper, “Finnick Odair.”

Your heart dropped. That wasn’t supposed to happen. 

The universe must’ve hated you.

Finnick’s mask was back on. Any trace of emotion on his face was erased and replaced with the cocky, charming façade that he’d perfected. He smirked as if he wasn’t just chosen for the most brutal “game” there ever was, like there was nothing to be worried about.

He was so good at pretending. Maybe even better than you.

You both walked toward the centre of the stage simultaneously, routinely. You’ve danced this dance before.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our tributes for the Hunger Games.”

Right after that, Peacekeepers came from the side, trying to grab at your arms, but you shook them off. “We know where to go,” you said. You don’t know if it was the your tone of voice or the look on your face, but they actually listened.

You were escorted into an inactive chamber, the same one you were brought to for your first Games. Memories flashed through your mind before you shook them away. You couldn’t get PTSD right before you went into this.

Finnick was stoic as he stared you, but before either of you could say anything, Mags and Annie came rushing into the room. Annie took you by surprise, immediately engulfing you tightly.

She was still crying, but manage to blubber out through her tears, “Why- why would you do that?”

You rubbed her back. “Annie-”

“Why would you do that for me? It was supposed to be me. Supposed to be me, supposed to be me.” She kept repeating herself over and over, shaking in your arms.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Finnick and Mags watching you. “It’s gonna be okay, Annie,” you told her, but you knew it was a lie. “I’m gonna be fine.” You weren’t.

As if she knew this, she only cried harder. You didn’t know what else to say, so you just kept rubbing her back, hoping that she’d calm down. Eventually, she stopped shaking, but tears kept flowing from her eyes like a waterfall. She tried to wipe them away, but they just kept coming.

She sniffled, going over to hug Finnick, then hugging you one last time before she left. “Take care of each other- please,” she asked, and you weren’t thinking of doing anything but.

You nodded, assuring her that you would do just that. Mags hugged you, saying the words she couldn’t express through her gaze. You could tell that neither of them wanted to leave, but they had to. 

Only one of you was gonna come back, and that was gonna be hard to come to terms with.

They left, and then it was just you and Finnick. The music kept playing, and playing, and playing, and you weren’t sure you could take it anymore. You didn’t want to hear this song ever again if it could be your last time listening.

If you could have it your way, you’d dance together until the end of time. But forever was never promised, not in the world you lived in.

The silence, however, felt like it lasted a forever in the moment, so you broke it. “Can you say something?” Finnick just kept staring at you in a way he had never looked at you before. The music got louder. Tears came to your eyes. “Please.”

Maybe he took pity on you, because he did say something. You just weren’t sure if it was any better than the silence. “Why would you do that?” His voice was cold.

You felt cold.

You swallowed. “Finn-”

“Why would you volunteer?” He stepped closer to you, so much venom seeping through his tone that you thought you were gonna be sick. “Annie was going to go-”

You cut him off, throwing your hands up. “You saw her, Finnick. She’s a mess.”

“She was going to be fine-”

“She can’t go through The Games again!” You shouted, losing it. Why was he berating you as if you didn’t just save the love of his life? “It would kill whatever part of her is left.”

“She would’ve been fine. You would’ve been fine-”

“God, why do you care about what happens to me? Annie’s gonna be okay—you’re gonna be able to come home to her and build the family you’ve always wanted-”

He snapped. “You’re my family!” You recoiled like he just hit you with his words. It was like you’d been doused in cold water. Finnick sighed, running a hand through his hair. There was a beat where neither of you said anything, letting his revelation soak in.

But you didn’t know what that meant.

When he spoke up again, his voice was quieter. He didn’t look like the Finnick that smirked up on that stage; he looked defeated, not triumphant. “You’re my family, Y/N. Don’t you get that?” He looked back up at you. “I could’ve protected Annie in that arena, and you would’ve been safe, here—not there with me.”

You shook your head. “There is no protecting someone in an arena- you and I know that best.” You let a tear fall, smiling sadly. “You’re gonna come home, Finnick-”

“Stop.”

“You’re gonna come home and you’re gonna live a long life with Annie-”

“Stop it.”

“You have people to take care of. I don’t.”

“Y/N, stop it.”

Another tear. “You deserve this-”

“Stop it.” Finnick grabbed onto your shoulders. You didn’t even know he got so close. “I’m not gonna let you die in there. Do you hear me? You’re not dying.”

“Only one of us is coming back, Finn. It’s gonna be you.”

You don’t know if your eyes were just really that blurry or if there were actually tears in his eyes, too. “No, you are coming home-”

“Finni-”

He grabbed you tighter. “We are both coming home.” The dam in your eyes broke, and all of the tears you were trying to hold came flooding down your cheeks.

Why was he saying these things? He knew it was impossible.

“We are both coming home, Y/N, I swear,” he promised, but these were promises he couldn’t keep. These were things he couldn’t control. Why was he lying to you- why was he lying to himself?

You wanted to say all these things, to scream, to tell him that it wasn’t true, that you were going to die. But then you remembered every other time you lied in bed together, every time you kissed and held each other. You’ve been lying to yourself all along, pretending you could have a future together when, deep down, you knew that wasn’t the case.

So you held everything in, pulling Finnick to you and hugging him with everything you had. You were gonna let him pretend, just this last time.

You were gonna dance together one last time.

You spent the entire train ride in each other’s arms, only getting up to eat and go to the bathroom before getting back in bed. You didn’t have mentors—you were the mentors. You’d been here before already, and that was surreal in and of itself.

You thought you already won. But nobody ever won, did they?

Those games killed everyone, victors included.

The press was insane, but just as you expected it. You were the Prince and Princess of Panem; they didn’t want to watch you die. Turns out, people in the Capitol did have hearts; clearly, they weren’t all too functional.

This visit, in more ways than one, was completely different from any other time you’d been in the city. Instead of the graceful show you normally put on, waving and smiling, you were much more mute. You were gonna die, anyway, so what was the point of continuing to be a puppet? 

Finnick was still his usual self, smirky and arrogant, but even his anger snuck through the cracks of his act. All of you were angry, all of the victors. You could tell just by the mere glances you’d gotten of them, by the news coverage. Nobody wanted to go into an arena and kill people, not even the Careers (who you’d admit were pretty crazy).

However, this was all still a show to the Capitol, with you as the unlucky cast. And the show had to go on.

You and Finnick were separated to be prepped by the “glam teams.” The first time around, you remember being scared, but now you were just bored.

You were sitting idly in the dressing room, waiting for your designer when a man walked in, making you raise a brow.

This was a designer, but not your designer.

“Wait, I know you.” You tilted your head as his face became more familiar to you. “You’re Cinna- you designed those outfits with the fire.”

Cinna nodded in a way that you perceived as both humble and prideful at the same time. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Princess.”

This elicited a bitter chuckle from you. “Please, call me Y/N.” You then stood up to shake his hand when your curiosity sparked. “Aren’t you Katniss’ designer?”

“Yes, but I’m also going to be designing your outfits, as well,” he replied. “The head Gamemaker requested it. You are the Princess, after all.”

The corners of your lips went up. Most people you met at the Capitol would beat around the bush, but this guy didn’t seem shy. It was refreshing. You teased, “Ah, and since I’m a princess, I get Panem’s best to dress me?” 

Cinna chuckled a bit under his breath, but didn’t confirm or deny your comment. He dived straight into his plans, explaining what he wanted to for you with a twinkle in his eye that you noticed most artists had when speaking about their work. “I want to stay true to the district 4 theme, but I want to make a statement.”

“Yeah, I had a feeling.”

He smiled. “We’re gonna show the Capitol that they can’t control you.”

And then your little smile turned into a grin.

Cinna did not disappoint. You were in a golden, long-sleeve, grid shirt with holes where the squares were supposed to be; your velvet skirt was a dark blueish-green, skin-tight; and atop your head was a golden crown, decorated with blue jewels.

Of course, it wasn’t a normal outfit, but you were gonna save the theatrics for the parade.

Finnick was around somewhere, likely causing trouble while you were walking around, looking for Johanna. However, you ended up running into someone else.

“Peeta,” you called, and he turned around. He immediately reminded you of Finnick, a mask of charm hiding him. Although Peeta had only been at this for a year, he already knew how to play the game, unlike Katniss who was rather unapproachable.

“Y/N,” he greeted. He scrambled for something to say for a few seconds. “I heard about how you volunteered for that girl. It was really brave.”

You hummed, almost sarcastically. “You don’t have to suck up to me—it’s not like I bite.”

He got red, making you stifle a laugh. “That’s, uh- that’s not what I meant-”

“It’s fine, I get it,” you waved it off. “It’s probably intimidating to be here around all of us, just a year after you won.” He didn’t say anything, just awkwardly smiled. “You know, you don’t have to be scared. You have a lot of power ‘round here; you just need to learn how to wield it.”

He gave you a confused look, so you elaborated, “There’s power in the masses, Peeta. The people here love you.” You paused. “Use that.”

A look of realization crossed his face, and so you decided that you said all you needed to say. He thanked you, but his mind looked to be elsewhere. You nodded, then walked off to find your carriage.

Sure, the Capitol could try and treat you all like pieces on a chess board, but if you got rid of the board altogether, then there would be no game to play. You spoke to Peeta to help him realize that. It didn’t matter if you were all meant to be on different sides; until you got into that arena, you were all one team, and you were gonna try your hardest to stop The Games before they began.

If that didn’t work, then you would just have to concede. One way or another, you would make sure that Finnick made it out of that arena alive. Peeta reminded you an awful lot of him, and while you would otherwise be rooting for him, you would choose Finnick if it came down to it.

You met Finnick at the chariot not long after leaving Peeta. He was shirtless, wearing a skirt similar to your top, rope around his wrists like bracelets. If you weren’t about to go into this stupid parade, you would’ve probably been making out already, but you were far too worried to think about that.

You had Cinna to thank for calming your nerves, giving you something to look forward to. Once the parade had started and you were coming through, you pressed the button of the device he had given you and then your top went up in flames, disintegrating until you were just in a black bralette, revealing the swirls of blue they painted on your arms, resembling waves. The rope around Finnick’s wrists caught fire, too, burning up until there was nothing there.

The crowd cheered, chanting your names. The faintest of smirks grew on your lips, but you really had to stifle your enjoyment when you saw Snow staring your carriage down.

What you did symbolized freeing yourself of the shackles of the Capitol, of these stupid Games. They could try, but they wouldn’t control you. 

You would’ve usually felt some sort of fear- hell, you were never so defiant just in fear of what they would do to you. But what more could they do to you? They were already going to kill you. You didn’t care anymore.

After the parade, you ran into Johanna who gave you a good laugh as she told you how she stripped in the elevator. You would’ve paid good money to see it, that was for sure. You also talked to a few other victors on your way back to your suite.

You’d been friends with many of these people for years and now the Capitol was just gonna try and pit you against each other. None of you were looking forward to that—you were friends. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t make any allies.

Alliances didn’t last forever in the arena, but they lasted long enough. Considering your status, almost everyone wanted you and your “boyfriend” as allies; they certainly didn’t want you as enemies.

The next day was spent at the training centre, a brand new one made specially for the Quarter Quell. The thought made you roll your eyes. The Capitol would spend their money on things like this and yet there were still kids out there starving. What kind of world was that? One that you were okay with leaving, so long as Finnick would remain in it.

On your way in, you passed Cashmere and Gloss throwing knives at holograms. They were good, you noted, but not better at it than you. Johanna was off practicing by herself—though you were sure that she was doing it more so to release her pent-up aggression. Wiress and Beetee, Nuts and Volts as Jo called them, were by themselves, much less violent than everyone else here and much more strategic. Finnick was tying knots, looking more bored than anything. And you… you weren’t doing anything.

You leaned back on a wall, watching the other tributes instead of joining them. You didn’t care about the rankings or making yourself look dangerous. You didn’t have anything to prove; you did that already, and you really didn’t need to “practice,” either.

You’ve danced this dance before.

However, not everyone was so aware of just how well you danced last time.

“Not practicing?” You turned your head, seeing the newest victor walking up to you, donning her famous hairstyle. The corners of your lips quirked up in amusement. 

She must have been told to make friends. You couldn’t imagine it was working out so well if she was coming to you.

“Don’t need to, Everdeen,” you replied, shrugging. “I don’t need the spotlight; got enough of that.”

She lightly snorted. “Yeah, I know what that’s like.” And you didn’t doubt that. Katniss had definitely captured the attention of Panem with her actions, and she certainly acquired the attention of the Capitol. Snow couldn’t have been her biggest fan.

In another life, you could picture you and her being friends, but you knew it wasn’t gonna happen in this one.

“You’re lucky, you know,” you said. You knew she didn’t see that way, and maybe it was a little bitter of you to say that, but it was true. At least she hadn’t been under the spotlight long enough for it to burn her like it’d burned you. 

She scoffed, “How so?” The girl had restraint, you’d give her that. She clearly wanted to say a lot more than that, but she was smart. She knew better.

You shrugged again. “You just are.” And you left it there. If she wanted all the dirty details about you, she could try her luck with one of the other victors, but you doubted she sensed the real meaning of your words. She hadn’t been dancing long enough to even hear the song yet.

A dramatic sigh then escaped your lips. “Ah, though I suppose even your luck can only run so far, Girl on Fire. So sorry about your wedding.” The sarcasm in your voice was toned down just enough that it wasn’t so evident but evident enough to make your point.

She gave you a tense smile, although you weren’t sure if any of Katniss’ smiles ever weren’t tense. “Thanks,” she responded with zero sincerity in her tone. “I’m sorry you and Finnick never had one, either. Would’ve been a real royal occasion.”

You hummed, smiling your royal smile back at her. The Kat has claws, you thought. But you didn’t really feel like standing here and trading subliminals with her all day; you’d have enough of that with everyone else, anyway.

You left it at that, going to walk away before pausing as if you’d forgotten something. “Tell Haymitch I said hi.” You gave her a once over. “He’s done a good job.” And then you walked away.

Finnick’s voice rang through your head: May the odds be ever in your favour, darling. You almost felt like recycling that line and repeating it to Katniss, but you had already messed with her enough. 

Your demeanour was in stark contrast of how you normally behaved. You may have been more agreeable or kind at home, sweet on cameras, but in this territory, you had an entirely different reputation. Sharp, cunning, unpredictable—ruthless. That’s the way it needed to be if you wanted to survive, or at least survive long enough to do what you needed to do.

So, you supposed that you had a mask, too.

You all did.

When you got back to your suite later in the evening, Finnick informed you of Katniss’ display with her bow and arrow, how she had renowned victors quaking in their boots, but people were even more scared of you, and you hadn’t even done anything at training.  

You basically had the entire pool of tributes to choose from for an alliance. You were choosing Johanna, of course, and Finnick already had his mind made up on his pick.

Making his way over to you, he tossed you something that you swiftly caught before sitting down on the armchair across from the sofa you were sitting on. You looked down, opening your hand to see a golden pendant, a medallion with a rose in the middle.

You raised a brow. This wasn’t a present. “A rose?”

“They’re a Capitol favourite.” Precisely why you hated them.

“Alright, and why are you giving it to me?”

Finnick brought his wrist up, showing you a golden bracelet made of vines while wiggling his fingers. “They’re gifts,” he told you, “from Effie Trinket and Haymitch Abernathy.”

You were familiar with both people. Effie Trinket was crazy, but that wasn’t the dominant thought on your mind. “Gifts for what?”

He answered, “They’ve brokered an alliance with us on behalf of Katniss and Peeta.” At that, you groaned, but Finnick readily cut you off. “This will be good for us, Y/N.”

“They’re brand new to this,” you countered. Sure, you liked the spark that the Girl on Fire had, and Peeta was quite the catch, but they only won a year ago. The Careers would be a better pick, even though you didn’t exactly like them, either.

“Yes, but they’re good; you’ve seen them. And the Capitol’s gonna love it, the two pairs of lovers together. C’mon, you know all this.” You did. You knew that this was one of the best avenues to take, but something in you was against it.

Maybe it was just that Peeta reminded you of the man you were in love with, and Katniss reminded you of yourself. But right now, you had to remind yourself to think with your head, not your heart. You needed to disregard your feelings and do whatever it took to win this.

To you, winning didn’t mean surviving this. Winning meant that Finnick did.

So, with a sigh, you surrendered, agreeing to this little deal. “So, these accessories are, what? Bargaining chips?”

He smirked. “No, they’re symbols. Katniss and Peeta have theirs, too.”

You chuckled, shaking your head and mocking, “So we’re in a little golden alliance, then?”

“It appears so, darling.”

After a little more conversation, Finnick and you headed off to bed, even though neither of you could really sleep. You held each other, though, and so the insomnia was bearable. He told you to stow the necklace away, that you were saving the objects for The Games. Apparently, Katniss and Peeta still needed a little persuasion for this, especially the former.

She was smart not to trust you, but she was equally as naive for the same reason. If you wanted to, you could be judgemental all day, but you didn’t have the time for it, so your mind didn’t linger on the subject.

When you were waiting to be assessed the next day with the rest of the tributes, your mind didn’t really linger on anything. You felt numb: not pleased, not sad, just numb. If you could pin-point an emotion, it had to be anger, but that feeling hadn’t left you since your first Games.

Finnick, on the other hand, looked no different, maybe even a little amused by the tension in the room, too amused for somebody who had to go back to the arena. But Finnick was always one to look a challenge into the eye and, instead of looking away, give it a wink. That was his persona while you were here, in the Capitol, so you’d let him indulge in it if that’s what made him feel better.

You’d do anything for him, even if he didn’t love you back.

He went into the room first. You didn’t know exactly what he was gonna do, but you knew that you were all basically doing the same thing. Plutarch Heavensbee may have been new, but even he knew who you all were. You’ve all shown your skills already, been here already, danced this dance already.

The song was getting old.

You were all giving your own personal fuck you to the Capitol.

When Finnick walked out, he flashed you a smirk that almost made you laugh. You stifled a smile as you walked into the room yourself, but it was quickly wiped off your face as memories played in your head like a movie.

You remembered the first time you did this, coming in and saying your name, scared out of your mind but ready to win, ready to impress the sponsors.

Now, you didn’t have to say your name. You caught their attention as soon as you walked in. You were the Princess. You needed no introduction.

It was funny, though, how that imaginary crown couldn’t save you from this.

The thought of your inevitable death was what fuelled you. You were known for your abilities with a sword, but that wasn’t what you reached for. You reached for the jug of gasoline and a lighter, immediately opening it and pouring in a circle in the middle of the room before stepping into it.

Then you looked right up at all of them and their confused faces, and threw the open lighter to the liquid in front of you, igniting a circle of fire around you.

You stared right at the head Gamemaker as you did it, expressionless. His expression told you that he got the message, or at least your hostility.

You would burn this place to the ground if you had to, even if you got burned while doing it. 

When the flames got smaller, you turned and stepped over them, walking out of the room without another glance or word to the Capitol mutts. As far as you were concerned, they weren’t worth your time—you were running out of that, anyways.

Once the assessments were over, all any of you had time to do was get ready for the show. Caesar wasn’t exactly a face you wanted to see right now. Maybe he saw his enthusiasm as a way of “calming the tributes down,” but it was really just his lack of empathy. You didn’t need him cheering and practically gossiping about your death before it happened. 

As much as the people in the Capitol liked to think of these Games as games, they weren’t. They were your lives. But you really could spend days obsessing over it, days that you didn’t have.

It was time to dance, and there was nothing you did better.

You were backstage, standing with Finnick and Johanna, waiting your turns. Cinna had made you very pretty. He was good at what he did.

You were wearing a dark blue dress with wide straps tied into blue bows at your shoulders and a sweetheart neckline. The bottom half was pretty fitted, but it was covered by a sparkly, golden, A-line, hoop petticoat made of the same material as your top from the parade, gridded with holes like before. And of course, your crown sat atop your head—Cinna insisted.

He really wanted to nail the whole Princess thing, milk it for all it was worth. And you let him, because his designs were great. Part of you wished you could’ve gotten more into fashion; now you’d never get the chance to.

You couldn’t blame Katniss for being so stand-offish. You’d be intimidated, too, if you were new to the club, watching from the sidelines. You, Finnick, and Johanna didn’t really seem all too approachable right now, either, even the ever so charming Odair. They were exchanging jokes and laughing at the interviews, mocking them, while you were rather stoic, observing the interviews watchfully.

Cashmere and Gloss went first, of course. They did theirs together since they were brother and sister. It was odd to you, how two siblings managed to get reaped together out of all the victors district 1 had, but you were paying more attention to the act they were putting on. 

Casmere was sobbing. She’s a much better killer than she is an actor, you thought, but the people in the audience clearly bought it. You’d give her credit, though; you were all trying your best to get this thing cancelled, even if that was highly unlikely.

Next came the two crazy Careers who made Gloss’ acting look world class. Then Beetee went on stage, using logic as a tactic rather than emotion. Smart, but logic wouldn’t sway President Snow’s wishes. The Capitol sent innocent kids off to die every year in a televised event to pay for something that happened years before any of them were born—logic was obviously not their strong suit.

Wiress went next, and that’s basically when you tuned out. She was pretty out of it, not really saying much. Finnick was going after her. That’s what occupied your thoughts.

“Hey, you alright?” Your were snapped out of your daze by the very man you were thinking about, as if he was reading your mind. Those blue eyes that you loved so much stared down at you, concern swimming through them.

Those ocean eyes. You could drown in them.

You cleared your throat, straightening your shoulders. “Yeah, I’m good.” He continued to stare down at you like he was completely unconvinced, but before he could say anything, they were calling his name.

He cursed under his breath then placed a soft kiss on your temple before having to walk out on stage, that famous smirk on his face. He was so good at that, at going from hard to soft so easily, cursing to kissing you.

He was good. He was real good, and he was a much better actor than any other tribute here. He was so good that he could make even you believe his performance.

You watched them from the TV backstage. “Finnick,” Caesar started. “As I recall, the last time we spoke, it was with your other half, who is here today.” The crowd cheered.

Finn nodded, smiling tensely, which you were sure he did on purpose. “That’s right.”

“You and the Princess have so graciously shared your love with us, and we have fallen in love with you both, perhaps as much as you love each other.” You and Johanna simultaneously rolled your eyes. Finnick, though, smiled to the cheering audience, mouthing thank you’s that no doubt made them swoon. “None of us know how to deal with the fact that you are both going into The Games- I certainly haven’t come to terms with it. Tell us, how are you dealing with this?”

You scoffed. If there was something the people of the Capitol liked to do, it was pretending that your tragedy was their own. They didn’t know even half of your pain, any of yours. 

Caesar practically shoved the microphone in Finnick’s face. He looked down, like he was thinking, but you knew he probably had this bit down pat already. “If I’m being honest, neither Y/N nor I have come to terms with it, either.” He now looked right to the camera. “What I do know is that I will do whatever it takes to protect the woman I love.” The crowd cooed as you looked straight at the TV, as if Finnick was staring into your eyes. “And if I… if I die in that arena, then my last thought will be of her lips… and how lucky I was to have met her and have had the opportunity to give her my heart.”

The crowd went wild and Caesar said something in response, but you couldn’t hear it. You were stuck staring into Finnick’s eyes, the eyes you fell in love with. Oh, he was so good. He could dance the dance so much better than you. Because everything he said, he almost made you believe that he meant it.

You blinked the tears in your eyes away when Johanna shook you, telling you they were about to announce your name. You put the mask back on, and it was your love for Finnick that made you do it. You were doing this for him.

An exhale left your lips as you waited for your cue. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, as our Prince exits, I have the honour of welcoming his counterpart to the stage. The winner of the 67th Hunger Games. The Princess of Panem. Y/N Y/L/N!”

The doors you stood behind opened and you walked onto the stage, a stellar smile on your face as you waved to the roaring crowd. You just had to play the role, and everything would be fine.

When the cheers died down, Caesar gave you a sympathetic look, or at least a look that he thought was sympathetic. “Now, Y/N, it is lovely to see you. You look stunning.”

“Thank you, Caesar. It’s always wonderful to see you. I just wish it was under different circumstances.” You glanced to the crowd, catching their pity. For once, that was the exact emotion you wished to inspire.

“Yes, I think I speak for us all when I say that this is not easy.” You tightly smiled, even though you really just wanted to flip him off. “We just spoke to Finnick, he has been quite expressive these past few days in the Capitol, but you, Y/N, you have not been as revealing. Please, we’d like to know what’s been on your mind.”

If Caesar really heard what was on your mind, then he’d be appalled. That wasn’t your goal, even though you’d greatly enjoy that. Instead, you had a different play.

The audience was very quiet in anticipation of your response. You sighed, keeping the tired smile. “I, um… I’ve had a lot on my mind, really. Finnick and I, we thought we had more time, time to get married and even have kids, but now it’s like that time has just been… stolen from us.” Collective awes resounded throughout the crowd as Caesar brought his other hand to his chest, like your words moved him. “It’s- it’s just not fair, simple as that. But I love him, and that love will survive, even if I don’t.”

The audience let their dismay be known while Caesar shook his head. “Oh, my dear, I have seen your love- we all have, and I know that it will never die.” You nodded in agreement, listening to everyone else agree with you.

The acting was easier than you thought it’d be. Maybe that was because it wasn’t all acting, not for you. You knew your role, and you knew it well, but your love for Finnick was not something you had to fake. It was perhaps one of the only real things you had left.

“Now, we are all in for an emotional night, so I’d just like to lighten the mood a little- is that alright?” You nodded again, though you wondered how he would’ve reacted if you didn’t. “Okay, now we all saw your display at the parade- isn’t that right, everyone?” He paused, letting them applaud. “Yes, it was magnificent. Would I be right in assuming that you have something similar planned tonight?”

“Oh, you’d be correct,” you responded, flashing a grin at the whooping crowd.

“Please, please.” He stepped back. “Go right ahead.”

You glanced at Cinna sitting front row before pressing the button of the device he gave you. The golden petticoat then went up in flames, seemingly “ejecting” the skirt of your dress, sending it from above your knees to your ankles as it went from skin-tight to flowy. The very bottom faded into a teal colour, like the sea.

The crowd’s cheers got louder than you thought possible. Caesar wowed, then raised his voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Princess of Panem!” You gave the crowd one last wave before making your way up the stairs to stand with the rest of the victors.

You were standing next to Finnick by the time the next tribute was called out and the attention was on them. To your surprise, he grabbed your hand, holding it tightly. But what really surprised you was the slight tremble you felt.

You looked up at him to see him already staring down at you. His mask fell a little, and instead of the at-ease Finnick you just saw, you were looking at a much more serious, stern version. You were confused by what could’ve brought this on, but then he leant down slightly, whispering in your ear, “I told you. I’m not letting you die.” When he pulled away, he didn’t look any less serious.

Oh, what a great liar he could be. There he was, making you believe in things that couldn’t possibly be true. You were going to die. You knew that, and you’d accepted it already. But Finnick hadn’t accepted it at all. He looked like he was believing his own lie.

You don’t know why this had shaken him so badly. Maybe he felt obligated to you, maybe he felt bad for you, but whatever it was, you weren’t gonna make it worse.

You could be a good actor, too.

For him.

You nodded, whispering back, “I know.” This looked to have calmed him down a little. He kissed the side of your head, and then the mask was back up. He kept his tight hold on your hand, and you let him.

You never know when it’d be the last time you held hands, and so you were gonna enjoy this while it lasted.

Even though this was an “emotional night,” as Caesar had dubbed it, you still got satisfaction out of everything the victors were pulling. When Johanna came on stage, she had a totally different approach than all of your sad acts and Beetee’s logic: she said what you all really wanted to say, giving the Capitol a loud fuck you.

You and Finnick had to stop yourselves from laughing amidst your shock. Caesar definitely wasn’t expecting that. You knew Snow definitely wasn’t expecting that, either. You hoped he was watching this right now, and you hoped that all of Panem could feel your outrage.

But if you were surprised by anything, it was the so called star-crossed lovers from district 12. Katniss’ wedding dress was a nice touch; she could’ve convinced even you that they were in love, if you didn’t know any better.

You weren’t the only one with a message to send to the Capitol with your attire. She spun around and her white dress was engulfed in flames, transforming into a midnight blue dress similar to yours. And when she lifted her arms, wings were revealed, and the smile on your lips widened.

“It’s a bird,” Caesar stammered in awe. “It’s like, a- it’s got feathers- it’s a bird- like a-”

You murmured at the same time as Katniss spoke up, “Like a Mockingjay.” You looked up to Finnick, seeing him already smirking. Everdeen was a lot ballsier than you thought.

“Your stylist certainly has outdone himself this time, hasn’t he? Bestowing not one, but two just astonishing looks upon us! What theatricality.” The attention was drawn to your designer. “Cinna! Take a bow.”

You were growing to like this man more and more, knowing that the Capitol must have hated him.

When the cheers died down and Katniss came and joined you all, the event was almost over with just Peeta left. You remembered the advice you gave him; you had high hopes for him, and he did not disappoint. 

He claimed he and Katniss had a secret wedding, reeled them all in, and then he added the cherry on top. “You know, Katniss and I, we’ve been luckier than most. And I wouldn’t have any regrets at all…” he paused, choking up, “i-if, if it weren’t… if…”

“If it weren’t for what? What, Peeta?”

“If it weren’t for the baby.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

The audience clamoured. You slapped a hand over your mouth to hide the upturn of your lips, feigning horror. Finnick was in the same boat, stifling a laugh.

Golden boy was smarter than he got credit for.

People in the audience stood up, shouting while Caesar tried to calm them down. They were calling for The Games to be stopped, exactly what you’d been trying to achieve all night. Caesar whispered something to Peeta away from the microphone, and he walked up the stairs to the rest of you, hugging his apparent wife.

Then suddenly, you were nudged by the person next to you, looking down to see their hand outstretched. You quickly realized what was going on and grabbed it. And then amidst all the fury, you brought your hands up together. Yes, they wanted you to kill each other, but you were all united in the same fight first.

It became obvious that Caesar couldn’t contain the crowd’s indignation any longer, so the anthem played, increasing in volume to try and drown them out, but your actions were still so much louder than words. 

That’s when the lights cut out.

But it would be a lot harder for the Capitol to snuff out the spark you all lit.

While you all did your best, your efforts appeared to be futile. Snow wasn’t against killing children, so you supposed that you all should’ve known better than to think that he’d cancel The Games for Everdeen’s baby.

However, it wasn’t completely useless. You had the public’s support. Sponsors wouldn’t be hard to get, so at least that was something. But all in all, The Games were still happening. One winner. Twenty-three of you would be dead, and you were going to be one of them.

Your last Games, you were relentless, selling your soul to stay alive. And you were gonna do it all over again, but this time, your objective wasn’t staying alive at all. It was making sure Finnick could make it home to Annie. 

Lying there in Finnick’s arms that night for what could possibly be the last time, you realized that you would die without ever having been loved by someone. You were with Finnick, and you loved him, but he didn’t love you back.

These last few days, you had been consumed by fire, knowing that you would burn everything down if it meant your lover would be safe, but it was like it was just hitting you that you’d been warming yourself up with a flame that wasn’t ever really yours.

You knew without a doubt that Finnick Odair was your soulmate.

But you weren’t his.

Tears pooled into your eyes at the thought, and so you quickly buried your head into his chest before a panic attack could came on. You calmed down to the sound of his heartbeat, the heartbeat that you personally would make sure didn’t stop until he was old and his hair was grey.

The next day was a blur between the hovercraft, having the trackers injected into you, and then being separated from Finnick. The only thing you really could remember was how he kissed your cheek before he left.

And then you were in the tube, rising up into the arena. You couldn’t get a good look at it. Every time you blinked, your Games flashed before your eyes. Sun, cold, dirt, blood, screaming, murder.

You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes as the announcer counted down. Pull yourself together, Y/N, you thought.

And then The Games begun.

Taglist: @honestlycasualarcade

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

The Viscount is set on finding a wife this season, and you are trying again for your second season. While Anthony is dealing with trials between Edwina and Kate Sharma, you are dealing with trials of your own. Benedict Bridgerton is ever present in your life, but your pursuit to find a husband must come first. Society is ever so exhausting.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season Two

Chapter Nineteen - Together again

You had sat your mother down when you got home. She called for tea, and you sat down beside her, wondering how you were going to tell her the news. Your poor mother had been stressing out since she revived the letter from your uncle, your father's brother, about taking back his money to support you both while in London.

"Mother, I... Our situation may have come up with the Bridgerton's earlier, and I have recieved a very generous offer from them." You start slowly.

"Are you to wed one of them?" She sits up in her seat, looking at you eagerly. Of course she would assume that.

"Um, no."

She looks rather deflated with your answer. "What is it then?"

"The Viscount has offered to take me under his wing and set me a dowry aside. We don't need to rush to find me a husband. Anthony will look after us. Violet had offered to help find a suitor."

Your mother now looks elated. "Oh, darling, that'd wonderful!" She hugs you.

You smile. You feel like a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

"Oh, this is wonderful! I must send the Dowergess something in return. My gratitude to that family will be forever endless."

You chuckle at how excited your mother is. You haven't seen her this cheerful in quite some time. It felt good to see her smile again.

"Flowers! I shall send her an abundance of flowers!" Your mother rises from her chair and goes off in search of a maid who she can send down to the flower shop. You roll your eyes with a smile.

Things were looking up again.

A couple of days later, you're at the Bridgerton house. It's as lively as you remember it being last year. Eloise was practising some dancing with Gregory while Violet watched on. Gregory didn't seem to mind dancing with his sister, but Eloise seemed to mind quite a lot. You knew how she felt about this whole thing.

Benedict was sitting on the couch nearby. You were sitting opposite him, watching them the two siblings dance.

"I do not think she is very good," Hyacinth says, coming over to sit with you.

"I believe she can hear you," Benedict says to her in response.

"I can hear you," Eloise confirms.

"Ow! Watch my feet!" Gregory looks up at his sister after she steps on his foot.

"Might we be done?" Eloise asks.

"If you are to catch the queen's eye after that interruption, you must be perfection." Violet states.

"I believe it was the interruption that was perfection," Eloise sighs.

"Shocking that Eloise Bridgerton was not named the season diamond, was it not?" Benedict says casually.

At that exact moment, Anthony comes strolling in. "Was anyone else aware that dear Colin has decided to add Albania or some such place to his itinerary as he gads about the world?"

"How wonderful it must be to travel," you say softly.

"I rather prefer the comfort of the countryside," Benedict comments.

"I do miss the country."

Benedict looks up from his sketchbook, of which he has been working very hard on, to look at you. "Then you need to come to our family estate."

You find yourself looking away shyly. He's still disappointed he didn't see you all summer.

"How lucky for him that he can simply decide to do that," Eloise remarks.

"Joining us for tea, Anthony?" Violet asks.

"Uh, I'm afraid I must pass. Too many calls on my funds today. Now that the season has started, I need to fill your coffers at the modiste and oversee the hiring of extra staff. And your ring. When you get the chance, I need it."

You look at Anthony silently. He was serious.

"The fields by Ferryhallow. I was thinking we might hold off on leasing them due to the hard frost." Anthony continues.

"I beg your pardon?" Violet looks at her eldest son.

"The frost hardens the soil, saps it of nutrients," he explains. "That is very well, but you requested my ring?"

"Father's betrothal ring."

"Did someone catch your eye at the presentation, Brother?" Benedict asks with a grin.

"I thought all the young ladies looked beautiful," Hyacinth chimes in.

"Not particularly. And all the young ladies looked the same. Like young ladies. I'd simply like to be prepared for when the opportunity presents itself," Anthony clarifies.

"The opportunity?" Violet asks.

"I've already compiled an index of the season's eligible misses and arranged interviews."

You look at Anthony in disbelief. He was serious. Those poor ladies.

"Interviews!" Violet chuckles. "Dearest, I shall be more than happy to give you my ring when you find someone with whom you are very much in love. Besides, it is in safekeeping at Aubrey Hall."

"Very well."

Violet slides up to the sofa Benedict is lounging on and looks at him. "See that he is quite well."

"Me?" Benedict asks, looking up at her.

"I'm not in need of coddling," Anthony says from across the room. "I assure you all, everything is in order."

Anthony checks his pocket watch and then takes his leave rather quickly. Everyone watches him go in silence. You turn to look at Benedict once Anthony is gone, and he just sighs, looking back at you.

Anthony Bridgerton was a stubborn fool.

Later that afternoon, while Eloise went to the market with Penelope, an endeavour you were not invited to take part in, you spent the hours with Benedict in his makeshift studio. He called it a studio, but it was merely a room he came in to sketch quietly away from his family.

You liked that about Benedict. The way he finds comfort in his own little bubble. He cared very little for society and all its trails. He was more tranquil.

You watch him sketch away, his attention deep into the pages in the book. Last year, he granted you the privilege to come see his hobby. He shared his work with you, and you complimented it. Even now, you had had no idea just how much you had impacted him and his art.

He rubs gently at the charcoal on the page, smudging it carefully. You watch with great interest as he examines his work. He pulls a slight face. While he decides if he likes it or not, you admire him.

Benedict Bridgerton is handsome, kind, funny, and gentle. He has an eye for detail and a smile to charm any lady who is lucky enough to witness it.

He would have no trouble finding a wife of he wanted to.

The thought makes you look down at the table quietly. It would be so easy for him to find a perfect match. Someone who compliments him and would look after him. You are not so lucky.

Though you hope to catch someone's eye at the ball tomorrow night, you won't hold your breath. You're not a pretty Bridgerton.

"Are you alright?"

You look up and meet his beautiful blue eyes. You swear you've never seen a shade like them before.

"Yes. Sorry. I've just been thinking."

"I can see that," he chuckles.

You smile softly and turn your eyes back to his book so you won't have to look at him again. "Do you ever plan on getting married?"

"Has mother put you up to this?" He teases.

"No, I just... You'd make a good husband."

"Is that what you've been thinking about?" He chuckles. "If I can help it, I'll remain a bachelor."

"I see." You sigh softly. You shouldn't be surprised. You won't mention marriage again to him.

Benedict watches you for a moment and then turns the page in his sketchbook. He sketches away quietly, glancing at you every so often. You don't even notice, too caught up in your thoughts again.

You were so beautiful when you were loat in your mind. No. You were beautiful all the time. Benedict hoped you knew that.

He did the best he could in a short span of time, taking in as many details as possible. You were a vision in his eyes. When he was sat fired with the sketch, he put his book down on the table and slid it over to you, nudging you out of your thoughts.

You look down at the book and see the sketch of you looking back.

"Benedict... you're so talented."

He chuckled softly. "I just want you to see yourself the way I do. I know how important it is to you that you find a husband and look after your mother. You'll find someone."

You look into those beautiful blue eyes and for just a moment with that he would be the one.

You look away. "Thank you."

Benedict also finds himself looking away. Perhaps he had been a little too forward there. However, he doesn't regret telling you what he thought.

You only sit there a few moments more before excusing yourself and heading home. It felt a little strange staying there for any longer.

Benedict sat alone in that room, unable to draw anymore. His mind was preoccupied now.

He wished you had stayed.

When you got home, your mother noticed how quiet you were. She watched you retreat upstairs alone. You wanted to call out to you and check you were alright, but she didn't.

You stayed up in your room for the rest of the afternoon. Only coming down for dinner. Your mother didn't ask why you had become so quiet. You would tell her if you wanted to.

It wasn't until you finished dinner that you spoke up. "Mother?"

"Yes, dear?"

"I'm going to make you proud. You know that, don't you?"

Your mother smile. "You always make me proud."

You smile back. You knew she meant it. Despite everything you and she had been through with losing your father, losing the country house, your uncle backing out of looking after you, you still had each other and you would make her proud. Every single day.

"I'm going to look after you," you tell her.

"You don't need to worry about me."

"I always do."

You both smile at each silently.

You swore to yourself there, and then that this year, you would do better. This year, you will find your place in the world.

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd -

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy - @acupnoodle

@ms-fandomgirl - @fablesrose - @anyaisinyourcloset - @meowzerzstuff - @orchiidflwer - @crazymar15

@cosmixstar - @bree3parchen - @berrnuu - @charmainemaclendon - @pinkpantheris - @krismdavis

@biancamde - @ifgslsofbsodbf - @kniselle - @berarenado - @grassclippers - @bwormie - @avengersgirllorianna

[bluejeanstrash]

11/10

a/n: i got this idea from an nsfw prompt generator so if anyone else has already done this, that could be why ✌️

tags: fwb! seungcheol, overstimulation, semi-dacryphilia, forced orgasms

w/c: 2.3k

in hindsight, telling the most competitive guy you know that you may or may not be faking your orgasms with him was probably not the best idea.

it was just 4 hours ago when jun had suggested a game of truth or drink. and it was just 3 hours 45 minutes ago when he had asked you ‘have you ever faked an orgasm?’

‘yeah?’ you’d answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. and because whatever was in that alcohol was making you loose-lipped, you had continued.

‘in fact-’ a pause ‘-and i’m not proud of this, but i’m really good at it. the guy could never tell’

there was an immediate murmur of we can tell around the table but you interrupted.

‘trust me, you can’t. those guys still think they’ve given me the best sex of my life but they were horrible. i faked it so i could get done with it and go home’ you took a sip of your drink despite answering.

‘so, anyway, yes i’ve faked it. many times’ you had concluded, looking directly at seungcheol when you said that. you didn’t mean to look at him, he was just there in your line of sight.

he also had this funny expression on his face, somewhere between amused and offended.

were you trying to tell him something?

seungcheol and you were in a (secret) friends with benefits thing. you didn’t really call it that but that’s what it was. it had happened as a result of another game of truth or drink around 3 months ago, and thankfully, every orgasm with him in those 3 months had been very much legit.

so, when you’d seen him outside the bathroom later you’d clarified.

‘you know i wasn’t talking about you, right?’ you reassured.

‘of course you weren’t’ he answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

it had annoyed you. no man should be that confident.

‘oh? confident much?’

he’d leaned in, a little too close for being in public, and said ‘i may not know a lot of things...but i know how to make a woman cum’

and as his thumb softly grazed your lips, he’d stated ‘i know how to make you cum’

‘do you?’ you retorted, moving back ‘or have i been faking it and you just think you’re doing a good job?’

you don’t know why but you kind of wanted to piss him off. i mean sure, you were sleeping with him, but seungcheol was your friend before a fuck and it was always fun messing with him. 

‘what are you trying to do?’ he’d asked, an eyebrow raised in mild annoyance.

is this a challenge?

‘i’m not trying to do anything’ big. fat. lies. ‘i’m just saying you’d never know’

sounds like a challenge to him.

(12:40 am)

‘please, no more!’ you move under his arms, writhing desperately.

‘answer the question’ he holds you in place, his grip tightening around you.

‘how many was that?’

‘f-fou-r’

‘did you fake that one?’ he asks softly.

‘no, i didn’t! i fucking swear!’ 

‘hmmn’ you feel a trail of gentle kisses travel up your neck ‘but you said i would never know, remember?’ 

seungcheol’s voice sounds sweet. so very sweet. but you know that tone—it's pure condescension masquerading as sweetness.

right now, you’re sitting on the floor, back pressed to seungcheol’s chest, locked in his heavy arms. 

after jun’s, he’d offered to drive you home, which had recently become code for ‘let’s go fuck’. and before you could even kiss him at your apartment, he’d grabbed your vibrator.

he’d made you sit in front of the floor length mirror, nestled in between his legs, with a towel laid out underneath as he played with you. were you getting pampered today? maybe.

it sure felt like it after the first orgasm, and the second. but when he’d moved on to your third before you were even done with the last, you realised what this was. a lesson. a lesson for running your mouth.

‘another one then, just to be sure’ he hums, before pressing the vibrator back against your clothed cunt.

40 minutes in and seungcheol hadn’t even bothered to take your panties off. there was something quite erotic about seeing that damp patch on your underwear spread as he made you cum over and over. proof, he called it. and by now you were soaked, the silky fabric clinging to your puffy lips.

you squirm at his words, fingers digging into his skin at the overstimulation. he doesn’t even flinch.

‘look what you’re making me do to you’ he clicks his tongue like it’s a pity. like he doesn’t fucking love it.

‘you know i want to let you go, right? but we just have to be sure so there’s no confusion about this in the future’

subtext: if you ever fucking insinuate that i can’t make you cum, i’ll make you cum until you’re begging me to stop.

you try and wriggle again, but there’s no point—you’re completely at his mercy.

‘tsk, don’t move around so much. you should rest now. you’ll need the energy’ he cooes.

you can only whine helplessly at his words as you feel your brain and body consumed by a familiar high. and so you cum again, moaning his name as you do.

‘how many?’ he asks while you’re still coming down from it.

‘f-five’ 

‘did you fake that one?’

you tell him you didn’t. you promise.

‘are you sure about that?’ 

‘i’m sure! seungcheol please’

‘hmmn’ for a second there he actually contemplates letting you go but your cocky little words ring in his ear.

‘i’m not’ sadistic fuck. and once again you feel the relentless vibration as you jerk forward, your legs clamping shut. immediately, seungcheol drags you back, his lips gathered in a pout of displeasure as he drapes one heavy leg over yours to spread you open. 

‘where are you going? hmmn?’ he presses the head against your throbbing clit, not letting up for even a second as he forces another orgasm out of you. your sixth.

drained. that’s how you feel after you cum, your body falling limp against his. ‘seungcheol, i’m done’ you whine feebly, hoping to garner a little sympathy.

‘no, no’ he shushes you ‘we’re not close to being done here. i haven’t even seen your pretty pussy yet. how can we be done?’

he leans forward, two fingers grabbing the fabric of your wet panties to pull them aside. ‘how pretty’ he smiles, gaze fixated on your slick cunt, and a split second later you hear the hum of the vibrator again. the second it touches your exposed cunt, a sharp gasp escapes your lips.

‘f-fuck’ you curse, feeling that knot in your stomach just a few minutes later.

‘coming already?’ he taunts as you end up giving him another. 

‘that makes seven’ he counts it for you like he’s helping you out. you’re not sure how far he wants to push you today, but you do know you need to make it easier for you somehow.

‘please…can’t anymore…the vibrator’ you manage to string together in between quick gasps. the intensity of it against your swollen clit is too much. you need relief—something soft, something warm, something gentle—like seungcheol’s fingers. 

after what seems like forever, the buzzing stops. ‘thank you’ you whimper and are met with a wry chuckle, his body shaking behind you.

‘you shouldn’t thank me yet’ he whispers. one of his big hands wraps around your throat giving it a light squeeze before sliding down your body to your cunt, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

‘so wet for someone who’s faking it’ he mutters to himself, thick fingers sliding in between your wet folds as he scoops up your arousal, pushing it back inside you. his finger slips in so easily that he adds a second. as he fucks you, fingers moving in and out, a vulgar squelching noise fills the room.

‘so fucking wet’ the softness of his voice now layered with something heavier. you can tell feeling you with his bare hands must’ve really turned him on. or at least that’s what his hard on pressing into your back is saying.

as you watch his fingers disappear inside you and come out all slick and shiny, your body somehow starts to crave another orgasm. 

he knows it too. the way your walls begin to squeeze around him as he curls his fingers up, two stimulating your g-spot, while his thumb rubs your clit, all working up an incredibly hard orgasm. 

‘go on…let me see you cum for me’ his voice is all you needed to hear, because a second later you come, for the eight time, gushing all over his fingers. 

‘look at yourself’ he commands.

you do, looking lazily at your reflection through tired eyes.

‘look’ he grabs your face, forcing you to look.

‘what’s that dripping out of you?’

your eyes drop to the towel that has a very telling wet patch on it. getting overstimulated with the vibrator always made you a little messy but not like this; never like this.

‘answer me’

‘cum’ and so much of it. the way it’s stained the towel, the way it’s spread all over your inner thighs, and the way it’s still dripping out of you is such a pretty sight for seungcheol.

but you’re exhausted. it was so intense and there’s no way you can do it again. 

‘seungcheol…i don’t have any left in me’ he can’t help but smile at your silly little statement.

‘no?’ he plays along, pulling you closer. his one hand grabs your breast, softly caressing it, before taking your nipple in between his fingers. his other, slides down to your swollen clit to rub in slow circles. and finally, his soft lips kiss down your neck, peppering little pecks along the way before stopping at that spot that only he knows exists. and as he stimulates all three so slowly and sensually, you feel your body start to betray you. 

‘when did you turn into such a little liar, hmm?’ he asks, feeling your body start to tense up like it always did before release. he knows this feeling, he’s felt this over and over for the past three months—you can’t fool him. and as you bite back your moans, it takes over, and you cum again. number nine. seungcheol smiles to himself, and doesn’t stop.

he keeps going despite you just having given him one. it’s sore and sensitive but the way his lips have latched on to that spot on your neck it’s impossible not to surrender.

in a consistent rhythm he builds your high back up - neck. breasts. clit. you look at yourself in the reflection and god, it’s so erotic. the way he’s holding you—tight and completely under his control, his arms flexing as he masturbates you—makes you dizzy.

you want to curse and scream as you cum but you’re too overstimulated to formulate a single thought. only eager little moans spill out of your mouth.

‘go on, i know you want to’ he coaxes as you do, thrashing and tugging at the fabric of his pants.

‘i thought you had no more left in you?’ he teases as you come down from your tenth.

maybe it was a lie before but now you really don’t. isn’t 10 enough? he has to be satisfied with that. there’s a few seconds of silence when you think he might be. he lulls you into a false sense of security as your eyes fall shut, and then the sick sound of the vibrator fills the room again. no.

‘what do i need to do?’ your eyes sting with regret as you feel it touch your extremely sensitive clit.

you know what you need to do. you just don’t want to do it.

he pushes it harder, toying with you. fine.

‘i’m sorry, okay?’ a desperate apology finally spills out. 

‘i take it back! you would know if you made me cum’ you whine. he says nothing, simply increasing the intensity.

‘i’m sorry’ your voice breaks as two perfect tears roll down your cheeks. until now, seungcheol had only ever pushed you to tears from the denial of pleasure, never from too much of it. he finds it incredibly arousing.

‘you’re so fucking cute when you’re desperate’ he says, looking at your pathetic reflection in the mirror. you look so pretty with those wet eyes and a dripping wet pussy that he suddenly feels forgiving.

‘cum for me again and i’ll let you go’ he kisses your neck. a wet little kiss.

‘i can’t’ you cry, tears flowing free now. ‘i can’t’ 

‘you can’ and you will for him.

‘you’re going to give me one more’ he says like you have no choice in the matter and presses the vibrator harder against you as you grab onto his arms. 

‘shhh, don’t cry. be a good girl now and cum for me again. then i’ll believe you’ he cooes.

‘show me…show me how you can’t fake it with me’

as your start to spasm, your body shaking under him, you let out a moan, half of pleasure, half of exhaustion. you grip him harder, nails leaving red scratches all over his pale skin as the orgasm takes over.

he watches, fascinated at how you’re still giving him body shaking, toe curling orgasms after this many; at how your body moves at his command. he’s satisfied.

finally, you hear the buzzing stop as he puts the vibrator away. he wraps both arms around you, holding you in a tight embrace, his lips brushing against your ear.

‘how many was that?’

‘eleven’ you admit, not believing the number coming out of your mouth.

he smiles. god, it feels really fucking good to have been proved right 11 times. his eyes drop to the mess you’ve made—on the towel, on his hands, between your own legs and he feels extremely smug.

‘so, did you learn your lesson?’ he asks sweetly, placing a single kiss on your shoulder.

‘yes! i did. i promise!’ 

did you? well, if this is your punishment you may just have to piss him off again.

[darylmydix]

THE SCARS WE SHARE | daryl dixon - 002

summary: you were the only good thing daryl had in his life. bonded by similar trauma, you suffered abuse at the hands of your stepmother, just as daryl had suffered from his own father. when you finally decide to escape your abusive home life, you're forced to leave behind your best friend in the process. now with the world in an apocalyptic state, you're left wondering if daryl was even alive.

pairings: daryl dixon x f!reader.

warnings: smut, violence, blood and gore, unrequited love, best friends to lovers, mentions of s/a, mentions of abuse, mention of suicidal thoughts/attempts, mention of drug use, use of deadly weapons, fluff, angst, slow burn, strong language, kidnapping, coercion, seasons 5-11, 18+, minors dni.

word count: 1.5k

author’s note: sorry if your name isn’t in the taglist and you asked to be. it wouldn’t let me tag some of you.

You lift your hand, blocking out the sun’s gleaming rays as you watch Daryl mutilate an opossum, removing the poor creature's insides. “Can’t you cook it or something?” You scrunch your face in pure disgust.

Daryl scoffs, eyeing you. “This ain't a damn five star restaurant, princess.” He says as he pops a piece into his mouth. “Well I am not eating that.” You shake your head. Daryl shrugs, making no complaints. “More for me.”

Eating dead animals was a cakewalk for someone like Daryl. He’s had to learn how to survive during times like this when his father would kick him out. At least he knew how to hunt and track thanks to the old man. The one good thing the bastard has done for his son.

You observe in silence while Daryl pigged out like he was enjoying a fine dine meal, even going as far as licking his fingers. “I don’t understand how you can eat raw animal guts. Aren’t you afraid of rabies?”

“It’s survival,” he states. “The world could go to shit one day where we ain’t got a choice but to eat crap like this. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

The thought of that makes you sick to your stomach. You didn’t even wanna imagine a world where you’d have to tear apart defenseless animals to save yourself from hunger. It just wasn’t in your human nature to hurt anything innocent. “I don’t think I could do that no matter the circumstances.” You admit.

“Then you sure as shit better hope the world don’t ever come to an end. You’d be the first to get taken out.” He jokes, but there’s some seriousness to his words. Compared to Daryl’s hardass exterior, you were as soft as a plush toy.

Two different personalities; but that’s why your friendship seemed to work so well. Daryl needed something delicate in his life to take the brute in him down a peg, and you needed a brute to protect you from what you’re too delicate to protect yourself against.

“Maybe you’re right...” You sigh, fiddling with your fingers, well aware of your fragility.

“Best be lucky ya got me then.” He says, standing up, while wiping his bloody hands on his pants. You look up at him, a smile forming your face. Daryl avoids your gaze, which he often does when he says anything remotely soft or caring to you. It was just the brooding man in him wanting to hide any emotional connection, but you knew he cared about you. And he knew you knew.

“I am lucky I have you.” You say softly. His eyes finally lock with yours for a split second before he simply nods and changes the subject. “C’mon, I’ll walk you home.” He holds out his hand for you to take. You bite the inside of your cheek, rejecting the gesture. “I’m not in a rush to go back there.” You glowered.

“I know, but I ain’t tryin’ to get you into trouble again.” Daryl reminds you of the day that not only did you suffer consequences, but he did as well. Last time you avoided going home, you returned only to find cop cars outside of your house and your stepmother pretending to be oh so worried about you.

“Him!” She shouted, pointing to Daryl. “Arrest that inbred thug! He kidnapped my daughter!”

You tried to plead with the officers, telling them that wasn’t true but given the criminal history of the Dixon family it fell upon deaf ears and you had to sadly watch as your best friend was forced into a squad car. Fortunately he didn’t get into much trouble by the police, and was taken home.

His father was another story though.

You sigh, taking his hand and the brunette lifts you off the ground. “For the record, I’m only going because I don’t wanna get you in trouble again.” You inform him. Daryl scoffs. “Yeah whatever.”

“There it is. The house of horrors.” You mumble, staring ahead at the home that no longer brought you joy. “Need me to stick around a bit? Watch over the house?” Daryl suggests, and you look at him with a raised brow. “You’re gonna stakeout my house? What good would that do?” You ask.

“First prick I see walk up there’ll get his ass kicked, that’s what good it’ll do.” He spat. You could feel the anger radiating off of him; you shake your head. “You and Merle got it bad with assault,” Daryl glares at you in response. “If you just a walk up and kick whatever sick fuck comes to my door to get his jollies off then all my stepmom’ll do is call the police and have you arrested for stalking and battery.”

Daryl made a ‘tsk’ sound. “Pigs would be givin’ me a medal if they knew the fuck was goin’ on in there. What those assholes and that bitch was doin’.” He was passionate about your situation, and you appreciated it because you felt the same when it came to him and his own. “Hell am I supposed to do?”

You put your hand on his shoulder, which makes him tense slightly before he’s calm. “Nothing. Like I said, it’s just our reality. Go home, Daryl. Eat a meal better than opossum. For me, please.” You giggle a bit.

“You sure?” He asks.

“That I want you to eat a meal better than opossum? Pretty sure.”

The brunette scowls at your joke. “No. That you want me to go.”

You knew what he meant, but you often deflected questions like that because in the end what you wanted didn’t really matter. Stay or go, your position was all the same. “Yeah. Go home.” You give his shoulder a gentle squeeze before turning to walk away. “Hey,” Daryl calls out, and you look back at him. “I’ll wait out here for a bit.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re a stubborn bastard.”

“Yeah, well it takes one to know one.”

You roll your eyes, turning away once again to walk home. You pull your keys from your sweater pockets as you get to the door, but it was suddenly ripped open with your stepmother standing there eyeing daggers at you. “The hell have you been? I almost had to call the law and report you missing again.”

“I’m an adult now, Sandra...”

“Like I give a damn. Get your dumbass in here.” She pointed inside with her thumb. You sigh, stepping into the house. Your stepmom pokes her head out, noticing Daryl standing there on the sidewalk. “What the hell are you doing by my house, you yokel?” She hissed.

“I was walkin’ her home, somebody’s gotta make sure she’s okay.” Daryl spat back. Your stepmother chuckled. “Well, aren't you quite the gentleman.” She snarked. “Well she’s here now, so why don’t you take your hillbilly ass back to the trailer park where you belong and get the hell away from my property before I call the cops.” She slams the door, getting the last word.

You peer at Daryl through the living room window, mouthing for him to ‘just go’. You could see him struggling within himself with the decision before he heads off. Your stepmother shuts the curtains, glaring at you. “Don’t you ever bring that redneck here again or I’ll make you regret it.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, holding back tears. “What do you have against him? He is the only thing in this world that I have that cares about me.”

She laughed mockingly. “You think he cares about you? You’re not even worth a damn to care about. The only thing you’re good for, honey, is making me money to keep this damn roof over our head. And if that little bastard isn’t helping support that, then he has no business here. Next time I see him I’ll get a restraining order and make sure he’ll never step foot here again, do you understand?”

You don’t respond, tears now falling down your face. She roughly grabs your arm, digging her nails into your skin. You yelp in pain. “Do you understand?!” She repeats. “Yes!” You cry out. She lets go of you, throwing your arm from her grasp. “Now go shower. We’ve got a guest coming later tonight.”

You quickly rush to your bedroom, slamming the room door shut. You pace around your room, wiping tears from your eyes. You were full of different emotions. Anger, sadness, sorrow, hate, agony. You wanted to just give up on this life. You had no willingness to live.

You open your drawer, digging through your clothes until you find the razor you keep in your drawer. You eye the tiny blade, twisting it around in your finger. ‘It could just end here’. You thought.

But then the sudden flash of Daryl came into your mind.

Like it always does.

You threw the razor atop of your dresser, the unwillingness fading away. “Daryl Dixon the things I do for you.” You mutter to yourself.

Taglist:

@daryldixmedown, @supernaturalstilinski, @vampiresluv, @myassisasolarsystem, @mosstheshoeshoethemoss, @scripteria, @moonlightreader649, @creepumiku, @filmsbyblair, @ginger-haired-queen, @darylsdollie

[caws5749]

hiii i saw that you were looking for fluff requests so could u do something like natasha and reader both busy and not looking while walking through stark tower or soemthing and y/n obviously knows who natasha is has a bit of a crush on her and nat is like teasing her. later on they keep bumping into each other until nat is like “i’m done with the meet and greets” and asks reader out on a date. (nothing specific lol take and pick at if if you’d like, i just wanted to pitch in! :))

WARNING: THE BAREST HINT OF THIRSTING AND MENTION OF BREASTS IM SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF

A/N: you know that part in despicable me where she goes "IT'S SO FLUFFY" ?? yeah that came to mind reading this because ITS SO FLUFFY AND CUTE AND SUCH A GREAT IDEA THANK YOUUUUU <3

Consulting with the Avengers team was something you still couldn't believe you had the privilege to do. You had more been consulting with the brand itself versus the actual humans, but it still felt like a privilege.

You were a bit rushed leaving the compound, face glued to your phone looking at the plane tickets for the upcoming weekend. You were set to visit a friend but hadn't even bought your ticket yet. With one strap of your bag hanging off your shoulder, you rounded the corner and bumped right into someone...hard.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry," you quickly got out, eyes finally moving up to meet lively green ones. Your jaw dropped a bit.

"Are you alright?" Natasha asked softly, eyes scanning your form for obvious injury. When she found none, she focused back on your face. She didn't even seem fazed by the collision.

"I'm fine, I'm so sorry, are you?" You questioned quickly, nearly slapping yourself in the face once you realized you asked an Avenger, hell, the Black Widow, if a bump into you had injured her.

"I'm alright, thank you. You seem like you're in a hurry, I won't hold you up."

All you could do was nod as she walked around you and you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding.

++++++

Somehow the exact same thing happened again, though this time it wasn't your fault.

Natasha was exhausted, just returning from a mission that drained her both physically and mentally. While it was only just after five in the evening, she couldn't wait to go straight to bed after a warm shower. She exited the elevator as soon as the doors opened, walking right into you.

"Oof," you muttered in surprise.

"Are you- I know you," the red-head stated, her eyes scanning over your form for injuries as they did previously, even after just a simple bump. "I'm sorry, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Natasha," you replied as you sent a reassuring smile. The corner of her mouth quirked upwards.

"And you are?"

You blushed. "I'm Y/N L/N. I consult for the Avengers."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'll see you around."

You entered the elevator, your legs feeling like lead. You turned just in time to watch her continue her walk down the hall. It just might have been the greatest sight you'd ever seen.

++++++

The universe must have been against you because it just seemed utterly impossible for you to not run into the widow.

It was just after midnight and you couldn't wait to leave. You were trying to finish up a big project and you knew having it done as quickly as possible would be a good thing, especially because you believed in the project so much. So you stayed in a conference room working later than normal. But you were exhausted and it was time to go home so you quickly tossed your things in your bag and headed out the door. You reached the door to the hallway and pushed it open with all of your might, eyes widening when a certain red-head had to jump out of the way to avoid it.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Again," you rushed. "Are you okay?"

"It didn't hit me, I'm okay," Natasha responded, before tilting her head. "What are you doing here so late?"

"Just trying to finish up a project. I hadn't really realized what time it was, to be honest."

She hummed thoughtfully. "You know, we do have guest rooms if you want to stay the night. You might not want to be out driving this late."

God, you knew it wasn't her protecting you or being worried about you because there was no way, but you couldn't help the flutter in your chest and the red that creeped into your cheeks.

The woman across from you smirked at your pink cheeks. She wasn't sure if you were like this with everyone or just her, but she loved it.

"Oh, I'm fine, but thank you. That's really nice of you... guys. That's really nice of you guys," you babbled, feeling the heat spread to your entire face.

"Just don't tell Tony I offered, he's picky," she laughed, before pulling the door open and walking through.

"Might want to check your temperature, Y/N, you're flushed like you have a fever," Nat yelled back, amusement in her tone.

No chance she hadn't noticed then. You were certain you couldn't make any bigger a fool of yourself.

++++++

The next time you ran into her, thankfully there were no close calls for injuries. Natasha had just finished her workout and was heading to the kitchen for a snack, where you had just finished a conversation with Sharon Carter, who had helped you on your latest project. She had told you to grab anything you wanted from the snack drawer, something that was somehow empty by the end of each day.

You searched the drawer for something that seemed appealing, jumping out of your skin from a smooth voice that came from behind you.

"Find anything good in there?"

"Natasha," you breathed as you whirled around, heart pounding in your chest. Your eyes widened as you took in her sweaty appearance, skin glistening, the top of her breasts just visible with the sports bra she had chosen.

"See anything you like?"

You flushed a deep red. "I, uh-"

"In the drawer, Y/N," she interrupted, eyes sparkling with humor.

"I- not really."

She walked up to you, the distance between the two of you now nearly nonexistent. You could see the dimension in her green eyes, the sweat bead slowly making its way down her right temple, the gentle pink to her full lips. You gulped, trying to steady your breathing when her arm reached around you, grazing your skin as she grabbed a snack from the drawer.

"I'm tired of these little meet and greets. Meet me here later at 8."

She gave you a wink and walked out.

You weren't quite sure what you'd done to deserve a date with that woman, but boy were you grateful.

[hungermakesmonsters]

Devotion & Desire

Chapter One

Plot summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?

Pairing : Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, and explicit smut. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 6.2k

A/N : this is my first time writing Bucky and writing omegaverse, sorry if anything doesn't meet the usual standards of the genre.

MASTER LIST

Chapter One

You were shivering and he hated what that did to him.

Soaked clothes clung to your figure, leaving nothing to the imagination and betraying every little shiver.

He watched you fumble with your soaked purse for your phone, and heard your frustration a moment later as your call quickly cut out. You shook it, wiped the wet screen on your damp blouse, but he knew that wasn’t going to help matters. Judging from the state of you, the phone was waterlogged and you’d be lucky to get it working again.

You leaned back against your apartment door, kicking it with your heel, letting out the weakest string of cuss words he’d ever heard. It was almost adorable.

All the while, he was pressed against his apartment door, eye to the peephole, watching it all unfold. It wasn’t so much that he was spying on you. No, Bucky liked to think that he was making your life easier. You were such a timid little thing and, ever since you’d moved in across the hall, he’d done everything he could to be a good alpha and not make you uncomfortable.

He’d seen how skittish you were the first time your paths had crossed; him leaving his apartment, just as you were getting home from the grocery store, shock causing you to fumble and drop your bags. You’d barely been able to maintain eye contact as he handed you your Cookie Crunch cereal. 

Of course, he didn’t hold it against you - how could he? You were an omega with no reason to trust him, and he knew it couldn’t be easy for you; being the only omega in the building, living across from the only alpha.

So, he’d taken to keeping an eye on you, making sure there were no more accidental meetings in the hallway and that you had no reason to fear him.

But now you were shivering and soaked from the storm raging outside, no coat over the blouse-skirt uniform you wore to work at Gracie’s diner. Had you walked three blocks in the rain without an umbrella? Hadn’t anyone tried to stop you? He found himself overwhelmed by the urge to help you, protect you and, before he realised he was doing it, he was slowly opening the door.

He couldn’t leave you out there, cold and shivering.

Your eyes widened and you shrank back a little. Bucky tried his best to give a friendly smile, making sure not to make any sudden moves or get any closer.

“Hey,” he said softly, “are you okay?”

“I -” your voice came out barely more than a shy whisper, “- I got locked out.”

“Did you call Glenn?” He asked, even though he knew you couldn’t, even though he knew your phone had died before you’d managed to get through to the building manager.

“My phone died,” you told him, holding it up as if you thought he might not believe you.

“Do you want me to call him for you?” He asked and you gave a timid nod. For a second he looked ready to turn and head back into his apartment for his phone, but then he saw you pull your arms around yourself, trembling even more violently. “Do you want to come in and get warm while you wait?”

He watched your eyes drop and let you take a few seconds to consider your options. It was late, far too late to go disturbing any of your beta neighbours and, he knew just how easy it was for omegas like you to get sick.

After a few seconds, you nodded.

“Okay,” he said softly, stepping back, giving you space to move into his apartment.

Your arms wrapped tighter around your body as you stepped over the threshold. He watched your nose twitch, obviously feeling a little overwhelmed by his scent.

“It’s okay,” he tried to reassure you as he slowly shut the door, “you’re safe, I promise. Wait here, I’ll grab you something warm.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer before quickly moving further into his apartment, heading into his bedroom. He was already starting to understand why the other residents of the building had taken to calling you little mouse. It turned his stomach upside down to think about how apprehensive you were and what might have happened to you to cause it.

You were still in the exact spot where he’d left you, still trembling and hugging yourself tight, clothes dripping on the carpet. (Though he quickly regretted looking down and seeing the way the drips from your clothes were running down your bare legs to your little white socks.)

“Here, you can borrow these,” he told you, handing you a dark hoodie and pair of sweatpants. “They might be a little big, but they’re warm.”

After taking them, you were ushered into the bathroom to dry yourself off and change, while he went to call the building manager. And, when you reemerged five minutes later, it took every ounce of restraint he had not to laugh at the sight of you, drowning in his clothes. He gave you space, waving a hand towards the sofa, indicating that you could sit if you wanted to.

You took a seat, peached on the very edge of the sofa.

“I’m Bucky, by the way,” he told you, realising that you hadn’t been officially introduced, even though he was sure you already knew his name like he knew yours. 

You responded with your own name, then; “thank you for helping me.”

“That’s okay,” he replied before taking a very obvious pause, giving you an uncertain look. “I have some bad news though; it’s Glenn’s night off. He won’t be back until the morning.”

“Oh.”

He watched as you glanced around nervously.

“I told him you could stay here,” Bucky told you. You both knew that you didn’t have any other choice, so you didn’t bother to try and argue. All you offered was a little nod. “Are you hungry? I was gonna order a pizza.”

“I - I like pizza,” you told him, managing to force a smile to your lips.

It took some coaxing from him, but he found out what pizza you liked and ordered it. Then he put the TV on for you, there was some weird baking program on but you seemed happy enough with it, so he left it on. If anything, the background noise seemed to settle you a little and, after a while, you finally sat back on the sofa, almost disappearing in his hoodie.

“Are you warm enough?” He asked when he noticed you pulling the hood up and snuggling into it.

“I am now.”

Bucky let out a soft laugh, the sort of sound he didn’t make very often and you caught him looking at you with a gentle sort of smile. He couldn’t help it, there was just something so cute about you in that moment, though he almost felt bad the moment he noticed you shyly start to chew on your lip.

“So,” he started, not sure what he wanted to ask, just wanting to make conversation and hopefully set you a little more at ease with him, “what made you move here?”

“After the blip I was staying in an omega-only building, but when everyone came back, the building’s original owner put up the rent,” you shrugged.

He gave a knowing nod. It wasn’t easy for omegas, while there were laws to protect them against discrimination, because of their monthly heat cycles and how prone they were to getting sick, it was hard for them to hold down well-paid jobs. He assumed that was why you worked at the diner, where shifts could be planned and swapped easily.

“I guess it must be weird for you living here with mostly betas... and me...” 

While he knew what it was like for him to have to live across the hall from you, he could only imagine how it felt for you. Alphas tended to learn at a young age to control themselves and to ignore day to day stimulus, but he knew omega’s had it worse, that their senses were heightened beyond even alphas. He’d catch your scent in the hallway from time to time, and he was certain you’d catch his. 

“It’s okay. Everyone’s been really nice, and -” you hesitated shyly, “- and you’re being nice now.”

He didn’t ask what you meant by now. Bucky knew better than anyone what he could be like, how his gruff, withdrawn and sarcastic attitude could make people uncomfortable.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been around an omega, and I -”

A sudden knock that the door startled you enough to make Bucky wince, completely losing his train of thought. He gave you an uncomfortable look before standing and heading to the door, muttering about how it must be the pizza.

Five minutes later, you were both sitting on his sofa, eating pizza. He made awkward small talk, asking if the food was okay, telling you a little about the pizzeria and how he’d found it a couple of months back and, little by little, your responses got slightly less reluctant. Eventually, you seemed to realise that you were safe and that he wasn’t going to hurt you. He wasn’t sure when or why that became important to him, but the last thing he wanted was for you to feel unsafe around him.

Life had to be hard enough for a lone omega without your alpha neighbour making it worse. And, besides, surely it would be easier for the both of you if you weren’t constantly jumping at each other’s shadows.

Before he could say anything, he noticed you looking at his vibranium hand. Or rather, trying really hard not to look at his hand. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that he wasn’t wearing his gloves - why would he when he was sitting on his own sofa?

“It’s okay,” he said, shrugging, “you can ask.”

Shame flashed on your face and he could tell you were uncomfortable. “Did you have an accident?”

“Yeah, a very long time ago.”

“Oh, well... I’m glad you’re okay...”

For a moment he felt his lips almost pull into a smile, any discomfort he’d felt instantly washing away with your words.

“I, uh, heard you like to draw?” It came out more like a question and had you looking at him seeming a little confused.

“Yeah, a little,” you answered. “I’m not very good though. Who told you?”

“Nikki from downstairs,” he explained and you gave a little nod. “Her and Jade really seem to like you, they’re always talking about you.”

It made you smile, and that smile settled him a little. It was going better than he’d dared to hope and you no longer seemed afraid of him. In fact, you started volunteering information without being prompted. 

“They’ve both been really nice,” you told him, “they asked me to go out with them on Friday when I get off work.”

He smiled. “Girls night out?”

“Yeah, though... well, it’s been a really long time since I went on a night out...”

Bucky gave a knowing nod, knowing it probably wasn’t easy for you as an unclaimed omega.

“I’m sure Niikki and Jade will look out for you,” he reassured you.

Conversation from there got a little easier; he told you that he grew up in Brooklyn and that he’d been in the army, and you told him about work and how you’d seen him in Gracie’s Diner a couple of times. You’d never served him, Gracie had rules about that. She was an elderly, take-no-shit sort of woman, and was one of the few employers you’d come across who genuinely went out of her way to look out for the omega’s working for her.

After the conversation reached a natural conclusion, Bucky got up, gathering the dirty plates and the pizza box, and headed for the kitchen. He didn’t even realise that you’d followed after until he turned to find you standing there, and almost jumped out of his skin.

“Sorry,” you almost recoiled at his shock, “I just - can I have a glass of water?”

He looked at you for a moment, completely taken aback - it wasn’t often that anyone managed to sneak up on him - then he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

“Yeah sure,” he handed you a glass, biting back a laugh, “now I get when they call you mouse, you’re so quiet.”

You let out a little laugh, shyly dropping your gaze as you moved around him to the sink. Bucky bit his lip, catching your scent as you stepped past him, and he instantly hated himself for how much he enjoyed your sweet smell.

His eyes followed you as you returned to the sofa, took a drink, and then let out the cutest little yawn he’d ever seen.

“Tired?” He asked, moving back towards you, but not sitting down.

“A little,” you shrug. “The dinner rush at Gracie’s was really hectic.”

He gave an understanding nod before starting to think about the sleeping arrangements. Under normal circumstances, he might have offered you his bed but, even if he changed the sheets that he rarely slept on, he was certain being in his bedroom would overwhelm your omega senses.

“I can get you some bedding and you can sleep on the sofa?” He offered, looking at you and then looking at the sofa, certain it was big enough for you to get a comfortable night’s sleep.

You glanced at your watch, seeming almost embarrassed when you realised it was only 10pm.

“You don’t have to yet -” you started to protest.

“It’s fine, really,” Bucky told you with a gentle smile.

You gave a couple more weak protests as he went to grab you some pillows and a blanket, but you still got to your feet and helped him set up a little makeshift bed on the sofa for you. He then paused, taking in the sight of you, drowning in his clothes.

“Are you gonna be warm enough?”

At just the mention you seemed to snuggle further into his oversized hoodie.

“I’ll be fine,” you said with a sweet smile before fighting back another yawn. “Thank you, Bucky.”

After some awkward shuffling about, making sure you had everything you needed, telling you to help yourself if you needed another drink, and giving you the TV remote, Bucky finally left you to get some sleep.

He felt awful for making you sleep on the sofa, but there was really no way you would have been comfortable in his room. It was still early, at least by his standards, but he grabbed his sheet and pillow and settled himself on the floor by the window, content to read for a few hours before trying to get some sleep.

He didn’t stir until around 2am a hazy nightmare ripping him from sleep. For a few minutes he sat, trying to calm his racing heart before realising that he needed to use the bathroom, and that was going to mean sneaking past you.

It took ten minutes for him to build up the nerve to try to sneak to the bathroom without disturbing you. Moving slowly, he crept from his bedroom and slowly made his way through the den towards the bathroom, but he couldn’t help but stop and look at your sleeping form. Somehow you seemed even smaller when you were sleeping, tightly curled up on your side, your face hidden somewhere in the hood of his hoodie.

For a few seconds, he lingered, listening to the soft sound of your breathing before starting to feel a little bit creepy, but it was nothing compared to how he felt when he finally reached the bathroom.

Once the door was closed and locked behind him, he was immediately overwhelmed by your sweet scent left on the towel you’d used to dry yourself and the damp clothes you’d left neatly folded on the radiator. He hated himself for the way his cock twitched and the way he lifted the towel to his nose.

Your scent stirred something in him that he hadn’t felt in years, a sort of longing that left him feeling uncertain, fighting against the urge to go to you and -

Fuck.

He didn’t know what he wanted to do. His cock twitched again at the thought of burying his face against your neck and pressing his nose to your gland. A wildly inappropriate thought that had his alpha urges starting to stir, wanting to claim you as his.

That thought made him feel worse; there you were, finally letting your guard down and starting to trust him and all he could think about was how good your tight little body would feel wrapped around his cock...

He felt like he was losing his mind.

It was your scent, the fact he hadn’t been this close to an omega in years and, now, it felt like you were everywhere.

He grimaced as he took a piss, then he started to pace, not wanting to have to sneak back past you when he was at half-mast. But the longer he stayed in the bathroom, the more your sweet omega scent got to him, driving him crazy.

Gritting his teeth, and hating himself more than ever, he reached into his sweatpants and started to stroke his aching cock. His free hand reached for your damp blouse and held it to his face, and he lost himself in thoughts of you. It wasn’t long before he was coming all over his hand, barely biting back his desperate grunts of pleasure, muffling them with your blouse.

Then, finally, he was able to sneak back to his room and spend the night thinking about how much of an asshole he was.

The next morning he got up early, sneaking past the little curled up bundle on the sofa and letting himself out of the apartment. He managed to get your key from the building manager and make it back upstairs before you woke, and you seemed more than happy to get out of there as quickly as possible once you were awake.

You did stop to give him a thank you hug, and Bucky damn near asked you to stay but, thankfully, you didn’t seem to want to linger.

Once you were gone, he went through his apartment, opening all the windows, trying to get rid of your intoxicating smell before heading out for the day.

The next day he came home to find a box in front of his apartment door. On top of it, there was an envelope with his name in large, looping letters, and beneath it was a bundle of clothing. The clothes you had borrowed. Cautiously, he reached for the envelope, opening it to find a thank you card from you. You had signed your name followed by three little x’s.

Opening the box, he realised it was an apple pie from Gracie’s, the sweet smell of sugar and cinnamon filling his nose, but it was the scent coming from the clothes you borrowed that really got to him. His cock twitched just at the thought and had him quickly unlocking the door to his apartment, wanting to get inside and try to get himself under control again.

Over the next few days, he did his best to avoid you, knowing it was best for both of you if he kept his distance, but fate seemed to have other plans.

First it was in the hallway, you leaving for an evening shift at the diner just as he was getting home; you smiled and made small talk, asking how he was and if he’d enjoyed the apple pie. Somehow it ended with him offering to walk you to work and then offering to meet you to walk you home. He insisted despite you telling him that he didn’t have to. The streets of New York late at night just weren’t safe for an unclaimed omega on her own. And, despite his discomfort, he knew he’d never forgive himself if anything happened to you.

He saw the looks he got as he waited outside Gracie’s for you, the smirks and the smiles, and the look of embarrassment that fell over your face when Gracie whispered something to you. But that didn’t stop it becoming a regular thing over the next two weeks.

Then there was laundry night, a night that had been a tactical affair for Bucky for as long as he’d lived in the building; every Wednesday after nine when no one else was around. But there you were, chatting with Nikki from downstairs who’d decided to follow you to catch up with the gossip.

He was about to turn back and slip away unnoticed, until -

“Hey Bucky,” Nikki called out.

He forced a smile to his lips and raised his hand in an awkward wave as he approached, and you gave him that shy little smile that always made his heart beat a little faster. He watched as Nikki’s eyes moved from him to you and back again, a barely suppressed grin tugging at her lips.

“We were just talking about my birthday on Friday,” she told him, giving you a sly little glance, “you should come out with us.”

“I don’t think so,” he shrugged, quickly focusing his attention on getting his laundry in the washer so he could get out of there as quickly as possible. 

“Come on Bucky, we need a big scary alpha to make sure the other alpha’s leave mouse alone,” Nikki continued.

If he hadn’t looked at you, he wouldn’t have noticed your sudden discomfort or the way you were chewing the inside of your cheek. Clearly there was more to Nikki’s comment than she was letting on.

“What other alphas?” He asked.

“It’s nothing,” you muttered, “it doesn’t matter.”

If Nikki noticed your discomfort, she certainly didn’t let it stop her from explaining; “last week some douchebag alpha spent half the night bothering her.”

“What?” He barely managed to rein in his annoyance, the instinct that told him you were to be protected, that you were some weak and helpless thing.

“Asshole kept asking when her heat was and if she needed company,” Nikki continued.

“He was just drunk, it wasn’t that bad,” you sighed.

“You’re too nice for your own good, mouse,” Nikki told you, shaking her head. “If me and Jade hadn’t been there...”

She didn’t need to say it. It wasn’t a secret how some alphas could be, how some didn’t want to take no for an answer, especially since the blip; so many of them returned to find their omega had moved on with their lives or, some, moved on without their omegas. But, just because the world was a mess, Bucky didn’t think you deserved to have to deal with some prick of an alpha who didn’t respect your boundaries. 

You let out a sigh and gave a weak shrug. “Maybe I shouldn’t go if you think it’s gonna cause problems...”

“What? No, that’s now why I’m saying, you have to -” 

“I can probably come for a couple of hours,” Bucky offered. He hated how dejected you looked, hated that you felt like you had to miss out on having fun with your friends because you didn’t feel safe.

“Really?” You asked, trying to hold back the smile that was desperate to spread across your face.

“Yeah,” he conceded, “but just for a couple of hours.”

Nikki reached over, giving him a playful punch on the arm. “You’re the best, Bucky.”

Fortunately for him, ten minutes later, the pair of you were done with your laundry and he was left to sit in relative silence with his book, wondering just how much he was going to regret agreeing to go out with you.

(A lot. The answer was a lot.)

He opted to meet you all at the bar about half an hour after everyone got there, managing to slip in unnoticed and take up at the bar, out of the way, but able to keep an eye on things, watching you on the dancefloor. That was why he was there; he was just making sure no one harassed you or tried to ruin your night. But he didn’t stay undiscovered for long.

You smiled as your eyes met his, leaning against the bar, waiting for your drink. He watched, not sure whether to be impressed or concerned as you knocked back a tequila shot and washed it down with a mouthful of beer. Your nose wrinkled at the taste, but he didn’t say anything until you purposefully looked his way again.

“What?” You asked him, noticing how he was watching you.

“What?” He repeated.

You moved closer to his side, your smile widening.

“You were watching me.”

“It’s just - you’re really not what I thought,” he told you, awkwardly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His stomach knotted the moment you started to frown, it was almost enough to make him wince.

“You’re just... you’re not like other omegas,” The moment he said it, Bucky seemed to realise how it sounded. Grimacing, he fumbled over an explanation. “I mean, you’re different from other omegas and tonight you just seem - I don’t know, I just feel like I’m seeing a new side of you.”

Your eyebrow rose and you just stared at him, lost for words.

“I’m sorry,” he tried again, “It’s just been a long time since I -”

“Talked to another human being?” You offered before cracking a smile.

“Yeah, something like that,” he said, giving a little smile of his own and falling silent.

He hoped that the conversation was over and that you’d return to the dancefloor, but you didn’t. Instead you stood right there, carrying on the awkward silence until the song changed and you had a terrible idea.

“D’you maybe wanna come dance?” You offered and he quickly flashed you a look that could only be described as pure fear. He shook his head, watching in horror as you reached for his arm and started to tug. You knew you couldn’t move him, but that didn’t stop you from trying. “C’mon, stop being a party-pooper.”

He let you struggle for a moment, hoping beyond hope that you’d get bored but, when you didn’t, he let out a sigh and knocked back his beer before getting to his feet. 

Your grin spread from ear to ear as you tugged him onto the dancefloor, ignoring the fact that his expression was stuck somewhere between amused and terrified. He didn’t dance. In fact, he pretty much just stood there awkwardly  until you grabbed his arms and forced some movement into his body, all while biting your lip and trying to stifle your laughter.

After a couple of songs he let you pull him back towards the bar with everyone else for another round of shots, chasing your tequila with beer again. He tried to take the opportunity to slink back to his seat, but the moment he started edging away, your arm wrapped around his, forcing him into the conversation.

When everyone returned to the dancefloor, you pulled him along with you, your hand dropping to hold his and squeezing tighter.

The music got more lively as the night went on and, as the bar started to fill, you found yourself moving closer and closer, until your body was pressed against his.

You barely seemed to notice your proximity to him, but Bucky noticed. His arm moved around your waist, keeping you safe from being jostled by other dancers and making sure the other alphas around knew that you were off-limits. He watched you as you lost yourself in the music and enjoyed the night.

At some point your hand ended you on his chest, and you were close enough that every sway of your hips had you brushing against him. Despite how crowded the room was, all he could smell was your sweet scent.

Every slow, deep breath he took, trying to keep himself in check, made it worse. And, when you leaned against him completely, looking up at him, he almost lost his mind.

“D’you want to get out of here?” You asked him.

The rational part of his mind told him that you meant you wanted to go home; the club was noisy and full, and it was probably wreaking havoc on your sensitive omega senses but, for a moment, he dared to hope that it meant more.

“Sure,” he told you with a smile.

As you made your way outside, he kept his arm around you, helping you navigate the crowd until you were finally outside in the cool night air. You decided to walk home and Bucky was honestly glad of the relative quiet of the New York streets versus the noise of the bar, and he was happy to walk side by side with you, only sparing you the occasional glance and smile.

“What?” You asked when you caught one of those smiles.

“Nothing,” he shook his head.

You nudged him with your elbow. “Tell me.”

“I was just thinking about the first time we met,” he explained, shaking his head, “you were so timid.”

“That was before I got to know you,” you shrugged. “I thought you were just the grumpy alpha who lived across the hall.”

“Grumpy?” He looked at you, offended.

“Very grumpy,” you smiled.

“And now?”

You looked at him, shyly biting your lip and fighting back a smile.

“Still deciding,” you answered playfully.

Bucky held the door open for you as you made your way into your building, grinning and giggling as you both boarded the elevator to the fourth floor.

It wasn’t long before you came to a stop outside of your apartment, and he watched you, waiting for you to open the door and slip inside, wanting to know that you were home safe and sound. 

Instead you looked at him for a moment before surging forward and pressing your lips to his. You lingered for a few seconds while he was completely paralysed by shock. When you pulled back, you bit your lip nervously, obviously forcing yourself to maintain eye contact while Bucky came to terms with what you’d just done.

“You’ve been drinking,” he said softly, and it was hard to tell if he was trying to let you down gently, or trying to talk himself out of doing something he might regret.

“Not a lot,” you answered, rising up to press another kiss to the corner of his mouth while your hands gripped his jacket.

“I don’t want to do anything you’ll regret...”

“I won’t regret it. I’ve wanted this for weeks,” you told him, pressing against him and feeling his arm slip around your waist. “Ever since I first caught your scent in the hallway... I thought it was gonna trigger my heat...”

A low rumble sounded in the back of his throat and the arm around your waist pulled tighter.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked, this time not bothering to hide the way he was breathing in your sweet scent, the smell that had been haunting him for weeks.

You looked up, your pupils already dilated with arousal, staring at him in a way that had his last shred of control fraying completely. You bit your lip as you nodded, and that was all he needed from you.

Bucky fumbled for his keys, barely loosening his hold on you as he led you into his apartment, turning to kiss you the second the door was shut. He groaned as you whimpered against his lips, eagerly pressing against him, clinging to his jacket as he picked you up and carried you towards his bedroom. The kiss broke and your face pressed against his neck, letting out another little moan as you inhaled his scent.

His arms tightened around you, his alpha instincts desperate to take over, as he sat on the edge of his bed, you on his lap. He kissed you again, groaning against your lips as he felt your hips starting to rock against his. After shrugging out of his jacket and pulling off his gloves, he started to pull open your blouse, his hands trailing over every newly exposed inch of skin.

Your hands tugged at his shirt, urging it up over his head, and his heart almost stopped when he saw the way you were looking at him, drinking in the sight of him. You ran a hand down his chest and over the defined ridges of his abs before reaching the buckle of his belt. Looking up, you held his gaze as you slowly unbuckled him and started to work on the fastening.

Another noise sounded in the back of his throat, something barely restrained, something that wanted, needed. And you didn’t disappoint. Your hand slipped into his jeans and wrapped around his cock, pulling it out so you could start to stroke it. His breath caught when your eyes met his, glassy with need, your omega instincts starting to take control. You kissed him again, desperate and eager, as your hand worked up and down the length of his cock.

You surprised him when you pulled away, when you dropped to your knees in front of him and started to tug his pants and boxers down. Bucky lifted himself, helping you drag them down to his ankles.

He wanted to say something, wanted to tell you how perfect you looked as you looked up at him, as your hand gripped his cock again, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead he reached for you, cupping your cheek tenderly before letting his fingers slip down to your neck to ghost over your mating gland. A soft moan escaped you and there was a palpable spike in your arousal, the whole room seeming to fill with your sweet scent. 

Bucky breathed deeply, taking it all in, letting out a groan of his own when he realised there was another scent in the air; the tart scent of your slick.

Before he could even think, you started to nuzzle against his thigh gland, rubbing yourself against him scenting him while also coating yourself in his musk. You were giving yourself to him so completely, and there was nothing more arousing to him.

Your hand started to move again, slipping up and down his cock, causing a pearly glob of precum to form on his tip, and he about damn-near lost his mind when you leaned forward to lick it up. His tip continued to leak as you looked up at him through your lashes and started to take him into your mouth.

The tart smell of slick only seemed to get thicker as you started to suck him, slowly taking more and more of him into your mouth, until he felt himself nudge the back of your throat. Your eyes watered but remained fixed on his, lips pulling back before sinking down again.

It wasn’t until his head dropped back that Bucky realised his mistake.

You moved so suddenly, your lips pulling away from him, your hand reaching for your boot.

He saw the knife just in time to stop it from piercing his chest, his vibranium arm catching your wrist and twisting it. 

You struggled against him, jaw clenched, any sign of arousal now completely gone from your face despite the way the smell of it still hung in the air.

“What the fuck?” He demanded, gripping you tight.

You didn’t answer save for letting out a sound of indignation and anger, pure rage on your face as you struggled against him. He wasn’t going to let you go until he got some answers, until he figured out just what the fuck was going on.

But you threw a punch, then another, first catching him on the cheek before getting him square in the nose. It was enough of a distraction to cause him to loosen his grip, and that was all you needed.

Pulling away, you sprinted from his room. He tried to follow after and almost tripped, running and pulling his pants up as he went. 

You left his apartment and darted into your own, locking the door behind you. 

By the time he’d kicked the door down, you were already halfway down the fire escape. He climbed out of the window, ready to follow, watching as you had to jump down to the street below, falling awkwardly. He started after you but then he stopped, knowing that there was nothing he could do; despite the hour, there were too many people around, and if a sweet little omega like you started screaming about the big scary alpha, no one was going to believe his side of things.

Swearing under his breath, he turned and headed back to his apartment, pulling out his phone. One way or another, he was going to find you and he was going to find out what the fuck was going on. 

End Note : anyone new to my fics... sorry for the twist, it's just what I do 😅 So, yeah, this is my first time writing omegaverse and my first time writing Bucky. It's set post Falcon and the Winter Solider and post blip. Will I follow canon strictly? Probably not. Anyway, if you've read this far, thanks so much for checking this out! I don't have a set upload schedule for this fic, but I'm going to try to update it at least once a month.

If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, let me know!

[dilfl0v3rss]

poly basketball player ony and aran

YES

having two very successful professional athletes as your boyfriends was a blessing and a curse. they were caring, smart, passionate about what they were doing, and gave you everything you could ever dream of having. there hasn’t been a day where you felt any less of the queen you already are and from the outside looking in, these men were calm and delicate when it came to you. always around to keep you safe and happy. you were as happy as can be with them, but every relationship has their issues. the main one in yours was their competitiveness.

“i won nigga get off the sticks and go wash the dishes” aran yelled, pointing to the kitchen where you were standing. you had told them an hour ago to wash the dishes and instead of just doing it, they decided to bet a game of 2k on it. the yelling and screaming coming from the living room irritated you so much that you washed them on your own to try to drown out the noise. as ony walked up to you, his tall figure already saw over your head that the dishes were done. a remorseful look on his face as he leaned down to give you a kiss on the cheek. “my fault mama, thank you” you rolled your eyes, ignoring him before walking towards your room.

this was a constant thing in your house whether it be who dressed better, who was smarter, who should get the bigger plate during breakfast, and the most common, who loved you more.

“i love her so much, i bought her a plane when her flight got delayed” ony smirked as he talked, his big hands rubbing on your back as you laid your stomach on his thighs, the rest of your body laying on aran’s lap. his big hands rubbing all over you ass while he replied. “that ain’t nun nigga. i love her so much, i bought her a house in every state so she don’t ever gotta worry about sleeping in a hotel when my matches are far away” ony rolled his eyes at his boyfriend, giving him a “duhh” look before replying. “how you think she be getting to the houses nigga? she takes the plane….dumbass” aran looked away, an embarrassed look on his face as he thought about what ony just said.

“well my dick is bigger nigga, now what?” the dark skin male laughed, his hand leaving your back to cop a feel of aran's manhood. he gave him a knowing look. “be furreal nigga y'know my shit bigger. that was cute tho” you rolled your eyes, sighing loudly as you got up from the both of them. “ohh my goddd do y'all ever just shut up?” you spit before walking away to your room. before you reached the door a small smirk graced your features as you came up with an idea to help them get along. “both of y'all dicks is little so ion even know why y'all arguing furreal”your words brought a mix of confusion and anger to both of their faces before ony and aran turned to look towards each other. silently communicating there next actions before getting up and making their way towards you. “we gon see about that”

your boyfriends argued almost everyday, using there bantering as a way to show their love for each other. you knew they'd never downplay each others love for you for real, always in the others defense in the media when different blogs would try to put them against each other. they always saved their arguing for when they were in private or in the comfort of their home and when at home there was only one way to shut them up.

“mhmm i know ma” aran mumbled as he listened to your pretty whines. his big hands outstretched on your ass while you made out with ony. all three of you sat on your knees as aran fucked you from behind and you stroked ony's dick in front go you with your pretty hand, your other hand on ony's his shoulder to keep yourself from falling over. “how she feel baby?”he moaned as he felt your hand tighten around him. aran matched his boyfriends moan with one of his own. “good...fuck...real good da” his dick twitched inside of your wet walls as he watched his the darkskin male tightly grip your neck before giving you a sloppy kiss. ony's eyes never left aran's as he let his tongue slide in and out of your wet mouth.

aran knew was ony was doing, purposely teasing him to bring him closer to his orgasm, but he had just the thing for that. his big brown hands gripped your hips before he started deepening his strokes, his pace increasing to get you to moan into ony's mouth just the way he loved. "aauughh fuck papa m'finna cum" you whined, your hand slowing to a stop on ony's dick as you felt your orgasm approaching. before you knew it, there was a hard slap brought to your ass by aran, his thrusts never faltering as he spoke. “don't stop touching him mama, daddy gotta cum too” a smirk grew on ony's face at the interaction, his dick twitching in delight at your obedience when you brought your hand back to him.

you were enjoying every minute of this. letting the men you love take control over your body and bring you to some of the best orgasms you'll ever received. ony squeezed your neck, pulling you from your thoughts as he brought his lips to your ear. “throw that shit back mama, make em feel real good so he can fill you up. you want papa to fill you up right?” you quickly nodded your head, listening to his command instantly. the feeling of your ass meeting his thrusts made aran moan, his release getting closer and closer as he felt your arousal begin to drip to the sheets. your walls fluttered repeatedly as you felt your orgasm begin to rush through you. "m'cummin oh my god m'cumminnn" your pretty cry brought ony to his orgasm as well, his dick pushing out thick streams of cum that rolled down his tip and onto your hand.

aran began to deepen his thrusts, using your release as lubricant to move quicker inside you. “fuck mama ima give you all this nut, hold still f'me” you tried your best to listen, stilling you body from shaking in overstimulation as you felt all of his inches move in and out of you. as aran fucked you, you watched ony make his way to his side, letting you fall to the bed before giving aran a sloppy kiss on the lips. his hand rubbed up and down aran's chest just the way he liked as he continued to let his tongue dance inside his mouth. in no time he was cumming, his thick load shooting into you had he slowed his thrusts. “thank you da” aran sighed as he caught his breath. ony gave him another slow kiss on the lips, his hand still on his chest as he spoke. “of course baby”

as they brought their attention to you, they noticed that you were already asleep. chuckles flew from both of them as they got off the bed to clean up. “where you goin?” aran asked as he watched ony begin to carry your towards the bathroom. “we finna take a bath while you clean the sheets” the brownskin man sucked his teeth before walking towards your sleeping form in his boyfriends arms. “you took a bath wit her last time, you said you was gon take a shower wit me this time after we bathe her together” ony rolled his eyes, before turning back around to go in the bathroom. “that was before you made me wash your dishes nigga” aran opened his mouth to argue but was cut off by your sleepy, annoyed voice. "if y'all don't shut up y'all gon be together on the couch" the two men looked at each other, silently communicating that they did't want to have to share a couch between their big tall bodies.

“my fault ma”

[vaspider]

Any advice for someone thinking about moving to the Pacific Northwest?

That kinda depends on where you are moving to! Here are the things I've found useful to know about moving to Portland:

I moved from Philly, where people tend to be more kind than nice, and here, people are more nice than kind. What I mean by this is that people in Philly will call you a jagoff while pulling over to change your tire in the rain, while people in Portland will smile while they keep driving. (This isn't universal, but it's real.)

Oregon has no sales tax. You'll pay a bunch of different income taxes in April, though, so make sure you pay attention to your mail in the beginning of the year so you get all your local taxes done.

Locals tend not to use umbrellas much. I tend to not just bc the rain is rarely hard enough to require one. Get a good raincoat.

Portland was one of the first places in the US to be wired for home electricity. Therefore, the grid needs upgrades, and a lot of the big lines are not buried as they are in other places and are vulnerable to ice. Make sure you have good home batteries for when we have ice storms.

Ditto, the streets don't get treated for ice. Make sure you have good boots and YakTrax or similar.

Pedestrians don't fucking look before they step out into the street. If people acted in Philly like they act in PDX, they'd get hit. If you're driving in the PNW, act like every pedestrian is about to do the most foolish thing ever.

Ditto PNW drivers. I'd rather drive to EWR on a Friday at 5 pm than try to cross the Willamette at rush hour.

TriMet still has a lot of room for improvement, but it's a lot better than any other city I've lived in. Get your Hop set up when you get here so you know you have money on it and all, even if you don't ride often, just in case.

The Oregon Zoo membership has an exchange thing where every month there are different local places you get free admission to. Getting a membership is generally less expensive than going twice in a year, and also, there's a bunch of other stuff you can do with that membership.

Choose where you wanna live as the place you're gonna do pretty much everything. Portland is largely set up so you can do everything you need within your neighborhood, which is nice. Pretty much the only time that I leave my neighborhood is when I have to go to a specialist doctor or to hang out with my cousins who live in SW or go to a special event.

Portland has a lot of cool shit you can do in your neighborhood - honestly more than I've seen anyplace else I've lived. There are hiking groups and bike rides and soap box derbies and all kinds of shit. Join local FB groups, look for posters... you'll see 'em.

If you consume weed regularly & qualify for a medical card, get one. The taxes on marijuana add up a lot faster than you think.

Some of the best food in Portland is at the strip clubs. No, I'm not joking. There's a law in PDX that if you serve alcohol, you have to serve Real Food, which has led to bars and clubs competing over how good their food is.

Food cart pods are the shit. Research your local food cart pods. You'll get some of the best food you've ever eaten and can take a huge group of people with different food needs to a local food cart pod and just have everyone go to different carts and get their own shit.

Look into who owns your local weed store. There are good Black-owned stores, and one of the most popular "chains" is/was owned by some deeply shady people who essentially bribed one of our Secretaries of State. So it does matter.

Be nice to the crows. There is a huge huge huge local murder & crows tell other crows if you're an asshole or you're cool.

I'm sure there's more stuff, but that's what I can think of while I'm listening to a podcast and my wife is driving us home.