#the summary is my feelings are complicated

[newobsessionweekly]

Fire and fight

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Crossover 911 x The Rookie

Tim Bradford x Buckley!firefighter!reader

Evan "Buck" Buckley x sister!reader

Summary: Tim finds out about the illegal fights and the complicity of your brother and Eddie.

Angst to fluff

Warnings: violence, injuries, illegal activities, not proofread yet

A/N: A little crossover, but it's absolutely safe to read it if you didn't watch 911. Had a little time to spear due to my excruciating back pain that forced me to stay in bed for 2 days (I didn't stay in bed, was just an excuse to not study, yesterday I deep cleaned my whole house + cooked)

Requested: no

Words: 3.5k

You sit at the worn wooden table in the firehouse, the sounds of laughter and friendly banter filling the air around you. Tim's presence beside you is both comforting and electrifying, his rugged charm and unwavering support a constant in your chaotic world.

You steal a glance at him, admiring the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs, the way his hand brushes against yours in a subtle yet intimate gesture. You can't help but feel a surge of affection for the man who's become such an integral part of your life.

Despite the lively atmosphere, your mind drifts to the weight of the recent calls you've faced, the images of destruction and loss still fresh in your memory.

You've been together for months now, and though he knows you well, there are parts of yourself you've kept hidden, afraid to expose the darkness that sometimes consumes you.

As the team shares stories and jokes over lunch, Tim's eyes linger on you, his gaze filled with a mixture of adoration and concern.

"You seem distant today," he remarks softly, his hand finding yours under the table. "Everything okay?"

You force a smile, not wanting to burden him with the weight of your troubles.

"Just tired," you reply, squeezing his hand in reassurance. "It's been a rough week."

Tim nods understandingly, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

"Well, if you need anything, you know I'm here for you, right?"

You nod gratefully, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. Despite your best efforts to keep him at arm's length, Tim has a way of breaking down your defenses and seeing straight through to the heart of you. It both terrifies and exhilarates you, this vulnerability you share with him.

Tim leans in closer to you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Hey, I was thinking," he murmurs, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "Why don't you sleep over tonight? Just the two of us."

Panic grips you, and you cast a desperate glance at Eddie, your close friend and confidant, silently pleading for help. Eddie meets your gaze with a knowing look, nodding subtly as if to say, 'Go ahead, I've got your back.'

Summoning a smile, you turn back to Tim. "I'd love to, but I promised Eddie I'd help him with Christopher tonight," you lie, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Eddie, who was sitting across from you, shook his head subtly before joining your lie.

"And I really appreciate it, Y/N. Thank you."

Tim's disappointment is palpable, and you feel a pang of guilt knowing you're the cause. Lately, it feels like you haven't had much time for each other, your duties pulling you in different directions. But you can't bring yourself to tell him the truth, to let him see the vulnerability lurking beneath your facade.

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze under the table, his eyes filled with understanding.

"It's okay," he says softly, "We'll figure this out."

As the lunch break nears its end, Tim's gaze meets yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand finds its way to your cheek, his touch gentle yet firm, anchoring you in the present moment. There's a raw vulnerability in his eyes, a silent plea for understanding and acceptance.

"Be safe, okay?" he whispers, his voice a soft caress against your skin.

And then, in a moment of unspoken longing, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that steals your breath away. Time seems to stand still as the world falls away, leaving only the two of you suspended in a bubble of warmth and intimacy.

The kiss is sweet and gentle, yet filled with a depth of emotion that words could never convey. It's a silent exchange of love and reassurance, a promise to weather whatever storms may come your way. In that fleeting moment, you feel a sense of belonging wash over you, as if all the pieces of your fractured soul have finally found their home.

As Tim pulls away, his eyes meet yours with a mixture of tenderness and longing. It's a bittersweet moment, filled with the promise of what could be and the uncertainty of what lies ahead. But in that moment, all that matters is the warmth of his touch and the softness of his lips.

His forehead rests against yours, and you can see the love and concern in his eyes.

"You be safe too," you whisper.

As Tim leaves for patrol again, you watch him go with a heavy heart. The minute he’s out of sight, Eddie and Buck approach you with serious expressions. Eddie's arm is a solid, reassuring presence at your back as they guide you to the lockers, closing the glass door behind them. Their grave looks make your stomach churn.

Eddie is the first to speak, his voice tinged with frustration.

"I don't like this, Y/N. Lying for you, especially to Tim. He deserves to know what's going on."

Buck crosses his arms, his brows furrowed with concern.

"Seriously, you need to stop this. All of it. Think about what will happen when he finds out. I'm not sure which one he'll kill first."

You shake your head, trying to brush off their worries.

"If he finds out. And he will not, trust me."

Eddie steps closer, his eyes searching yours with a mix of anger and concern.

"How long do you think it'll take before he sees the bruises, huh? Dammit, Y/N, I see them."

You swallow hard, feeling a lump form in your throat.

"You see them because you know where to look."

Buck's voice softens, though his frustration is still evident.

"Tim's a cop, sis. A very good one if you didn't notice. He will find out and when he does—"

Before he can finish, the fire alarm blares through the station, cutting off the conversation. The familiar rush of adrenaline surges through you as the call to action drowns out everything else. You all move quickly, your argument momentarily forgotten as you slip into firefighter mode.

Eddie gives you a lingering look, his eyes filled with unspoken words, before he turns to head to the engine. Buck places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"We'll talk about this later," he says, his tone softer but still firm.

The end of the shift arrives like a welcome reprieve, but for you, it's just the beginning of another battle. Driving to the location of the illegal fights, your mind races with a mixture of determination and apprehension. The sight of Eddie's and Buck's cars parked nearby only fuels the fire burning within you as you approach them, your steps heavy with pent-up frustration.

"What are you doing here?" you demand, your voice tight with simmering anger as you confront them.

"Making sure you're okay," Eddie meets your gaze and furrows his brows as he speaks. "I don't want to see Bradford angry. He scares the shit out of me when he's happy..."

Your jaw clenches at the mention of Tim, your thoughts momentarily drifting to the repercussions of him discovering your secret. Pushing those thoughts aside, you shake your head stubbornly.

"I'll be fine, don't worry."

Grabbing a beer from a nearby cooler, you plop down on the trunk of a car, Eddie and Buck flanking you on either side. You crack open the beer and take a long sip, the cool liquid doing little to quell the fire burning inside you.

Buck leans in close, his voice a hushed whisper. "You need to quit these fights, Y/N. It's not worth it."

Eddie nods in agreement, "We're worried about you."

You take a long swig of your beer, the liquid burning a path down your throat.

"I can take care of myself," you mutter.

But Buck's frustration is palpable as he reaches out to grasp your hand.

"We know you can, but this isn't the way to prove it. You're risking your life for what?"

You pull away from his touch, your gaze hardening.

"It's none of your business," you retort, your tone sharp with irritation. "I don't need you to babysit me."

As your name echoes on their lips, the crowd erupts into cheers, their voices blending into a deafening roar as you step into the center of the makeshift ring. Surrounded by eager spectators, you feel the weight of their expectations bearing down on you, fueling the fire that burns within.

Your brother and Eddie watch you from the sidelines, their expressions etched with concern as you face off against your opponent, a behemoth of a man twice your size and weight.

Within the perimeter, surrounded by the thunderous cheers of the crowd, you allow your thoughts to drift away, consumed by the adrenaline coursing through your veins. With each stretch of your limbs, the tension in your muscles tightens, fueling your determination to win.

The fight begins, and you move with a fluidity and grace that belies your size. You dodge and weave, your movements swift and precise as you deliver blows with calculated precision. But the man before you is relentless, his attacks coming fast and furious, each strike leaving a mark.

Blood trickles down your face, the metallic taste lingering on your tongue as you fight back with renewed strength. Your fists fly, each punch landing with a satisfying thud as you refuse to back down. The intensity of the battle is palpable, the air crackling with electricity as you and your opponent trade blows.

In the midst of the chaos, a sense of euphoria washes over you, a rush of exhilaration that eclipses the pain. For a fleeting moment, you feel alive, untethered from the burdens that weigh you down. In that moment, there is only the fight, and the sheer joy of testing your limits.

Your brother's concern etches lines of worry across his forehead as he watches the fight unfold, his eyes darting between you and the towering opponent.

"We should stop her," he insists.

But Eddie shakes his head "It's too late now," he replies, "They have to finish the fight."

Buck hesitates, his hand hovering over his phone as he weighs the consequences of calling your boyfriend. "I'll call Tim," he decides finally.

"Wait, Buck. Think about this." Eddie reaches out, his hand closing around Buck's wrist. "She'll hate us."

Buck hesitates for a moment, weighing his options, before relenting. "Tim's the only one who can talk her out of this," he says, determination in his voice as he dials the number. "She'll thank me later."

Tim arrives shortly after Buck's call, his expression a mask of concern and frustration as he rushes to your side. He had been about to clock out and change when Buck's urgent call came through, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios as he drove the streets to reach the location.

When he sees you, battered and bruised, a pang of heartache grips him. He's torn between wanting to hold you close and shake some sense into you. The sight of your pain is unbearable, and he struggles to contain his emotions as he approaches.

You're taking a break, sipping from a beer while Eddie inspects your wounds, his brow furrowed in concern. Though nothing serious, the bruises will leave their marks.

Despite the pain, you're all smiles and pride, reveling in the thrill of the fight. But when you catch sight of Tim, the smile fades from your face, replaced by a look of guilt.

"Tim?" you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you search his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Tim's heart clenches at the sight of you, the blood and bruises marring your once flawless skin a stark reminder of the danger you willingly put yourself in.

"No, what are you doing here, Y/N?" he retorts,"What are you thinking? How can you be so reckless?"

"I'm not reckless," you protest, "I like it."

"Look at yourself, Y/N," he implores, his gaze softening. "Do you like what you see? Is this really what you want?"

Before you can respond, the break is over, and the announcer calls your names, signaling the start of the fight once more.

"Gotta go."

Tim watches helplessly as you disappear into the crowd, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Despite his love for you, he knows he can't force you to change, can't protect you from the dangers you willingly face. And as he watches you disappear from view, his heart breaks a little more with each step you take away from him.

As you return to the center of the 'ring', determination burns bright in your eyes, fueled by a desperate need to prove to Tim that you're not in over your head. You know what you're doing, and you're determined to show him that you can handle yourself.

The crowd roars with anticipation as the fight resumes, but this time, you're ready. Every movement is calculated, every strike precise as you weave and dodge with a grace that belies your size. You're quicker, sharper, and more focused than ever before, fueled by a burning desire to prove your worth.

Buck's voice breaks through the chaos, his concern evident as he turns to Tim. "Why don't you stop her, man?" he asks, his eyes pleading for action.

But Tim shakes his head, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of pride and worry. "She hates you for calling me," he replies, his voice tinged with resignation. "No need to have her hate me too."

Eddie chuckles at their exchange, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Told you," he remarks, watching Buck with amusement.

As the fight reaches its climax, you find yourself on top, your opponent unable to keep up with your skill and determination. With one final, decisive blow, you send him sprawling to the ground, the crowd erupting into cheers as you emerge victorious.

As you collect your winnings from the bet, you make your way back to the three men, their concern palpable as they guide you to their cars.

Eddie pulls out the first aid kit, his hands gentle as he cleans up your wounds, his gaze soft with sympathy.

But it's Tim who captures your attention, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. You meet his gaze, searching for some sign of understanding, of acceptance, but all you find is disappointment.

In that moment, as you stand before him battered and bruised yet still standing tall, Tim's heart aches with a fierce love for you. He knows he can't protect you from every danger, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try. And as he watches you, his resolve only strengthens, determined to be there for you no matter what.

As Tim pulls out his phone and dials Lucy's number, you can't help but feel a sense of dread creeping over you.

"What are you doing?"

Tim ignores you, his focus on the phone call as he speaks in hushed tones. When he finally hangs up, his expression is grave as he turns to Buck and Eddie, who have finished cleaning up your face.

"Chen's taking a night shift. Can you stay here and make sure no one leaves before the cops arrive?" he asks.

Buck nods solemnly. "Yeah, man. Sure."

You feel defeated as you watch the exchange, knowing that Tim's disappointment is palpable. "Tim..." you start, your voice trailing off as you search for some way to reach him.

But Tim turns away from you, his heart breaking at the sight of your face. "I'm not talking to you now," he says quietly.

Turning back to Buck and Eddie, he issues his final instructions. "Chen will call you when they're close. You leave this place immediately. Understood?"

Buck and Eddie nod in agreement, their expressions somber as they prepare to carry out Tim's orders. As they make their way back, you remain seated on the trunk, swinging your feet like a child who knows they're in trouble.

Tim closes the distance between you, kneeling before you with a tenderness that breaks your heart all over again. Cupping your cheek with one hand, he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Come on, baby," he murmurs, his voice soft with tenderness. "You're coming home with me."

You nod silently, too defeated to argue. Climbing into your car, you follow Tim back to his place.

Tim closes the door behind you, his expression unreadable as he watches you from across the room. Sitting in the middle of the room, you feel like a child who knows she's in trouble, awaiting her punishment with bated breath.

Tim's hand rests gently at your lower back as he guides you to the couch, his touch both comforting and protective. As you settle onto the cushions, a sense of unease settles over you, your heart heavy with guilt and apprehension.

"Are you mad at me?" you finally muster the courage to ask.

Tim's expression softens as he looks into your eyes, his love for you shining through the worry and frustration.

"No, baby," he replies, his voice gentle. "I'm not mad at you. I'm just worried about you. I don't want to lose you."

He takes a deep breath, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he struggles to put his feelings into words.

"I don't want to lose you," he admits, "I fear enough when you're out on calls, taking unnecessary risks with Buck to save lives. I don't need to worry about your safety off-duty, too, especially when you're doing something as dangerous as that."

You listen quietly, absorbing his words as he speaks.

"But why?" he asks, his voice pleading. "Why do you do this?"

You hesitate for a moment, grappling with the weight of his question before finally finding the words to respond.

"It's extra money," you admit, your voice tinged with resignation. "And it helps me. When I'm out there, I don't have to think about anything. No more problems, no more pain. And when I win, it's the best feeling in the world."

Tim's heart aches at your words, the pain of knowing that you're seeking solace in something so dangerous. He reaches out, taking your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring.

"But, baby," he murmurs, his voice filled with love and concern. "Those fights are not good or fun. And you shouldn't have to risk your life to find peace. I'm here for you. Always."

His words wash over you like a wave of warmth, enveloping you in a cocoon of love and protection. In that moment, you realize just how lucky you are to have him by your side, a constant source of strength and support in a world filled with uncertainty.

Tim's expression softens as he looks at you, his eyes filled with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

"If you really want to fight, you can do it with me," he offers, his voice laced with a mixture of playfulness and determination. "I know a thing or two about that. I might even let you win, but only if it means keeping you safe."

His words, though tinged with playful jest, carry a weight of sincerity that fills your heart with warmth. You feel the depth of his love for you in every word, in every touch, and you're overwhelmed by a rush of emotion.

"But seriously, Y/N," he continues, his voice soft but resolute. "You need to stop doing this. I love you, and I can't bear to see you getting hurt again. It kills me to see you like this."

"Wait," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. "You love me?"

Tim's smile widens as he reaches out to cup your cheeks, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Of course I do, baby," he murmurs, "I love you. Even though you drive me insane and make me worry about you every second."

A smile tugs at your lips as you meet his gaze, a warmth spreading through you at the realization of his feelings. "I love you, Tim," you confess.

"But was it really necessary to call Lucy?"

Tim chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I am a cop, after all," he replies, his tone playful. "I couldn't just walk away from that. And besides," he adds with a teasing smile, "I didn't have enough cuffs for everyone. Just for you."

You play along, a playful twinkle in your eye. "Oh, you gonna arrest me, Officer Bradford?" you tease, a smirk playing on your lips.

Tim leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "I have something else in mind," he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "And cuffs might just help."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and as you lean in to kiss him, you're filled with a sense of warmth and belonging that only he can provide.

[afewfantasies]

🏔️The Retreat 🏔️- Chapter V

Prologue | Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Misc references & details

Summary:  Through the promptings of others Lorena and Gale are both forced to confront their personal feelings for each other, while acknowledging the potential for romance & their future.

Pairing: Gale Cleven x Lorena (black fem oc)

Warnings:  None

Tropes: Slow Burn, opposites attract, forbidden love

Word Count: 2K

PART V - Major

Gale had never witnessed a winter prep like this before. Lorena had a strange way of making everything feel like a party with all her personality and ideas to make the mundane fun. There were wood splitting competitions among the boys and stacking competitions. There was no quarrelling as Lorena and Rose were in charge of the harvest and for the first time they were ahead of the schedule in September. A freak frost would have very few consequences on their way of life. Lorena’s sister's visit seemed to do wonders for her well being and in the weeks since her departure there’d already been two letters. Gale kept Felicia’s words close to his chest. He found himself admiring Lorena more and more. Admitting the way her eye’s light when she smiles, the cadence of her laugh, her sense of humour and glamorous nature. He found himself indulging her stories and whims more too. If Felicia thought there was a possibility of happiness between them, then Gale thought there could be a possibility that Lorena could see him the same way all the others did.

“What are you moping about Gale, us soldiers not moving efficiently enough for the Major?” Lorena asks, coming in with a basket of apples to be sliced and hung to dry. Gale smiles at her teasing.

“Wasn’t moping, I just resent there’s nothing to complain about. It’s not good for my reputation” Gale admits. Lorena lights up before laughing a touch. Gale had been opening up to her, it was a wonderful thing. Absolutely wonderful that he was finding his way out of his shell, and beginning to trust her like she trusted him.

“I’ll make a mess of something, you can be sure of it so keep some complaints in your reserves Major” Lorena mocks. He’d inherited the nickname not as a form of respect but admonishment. His small margin for error and serious precision had garnered him the nickname from Lorena. She didn’t understand what surviving a Montana winter was like, what preparation was required to ensure comfort and survival but Gale did. He’d survived the prison camps with next to nothing in terms of food and clothing, and would never endure anything like it again.

“I don’t think you understand how the chain of command works,” Gale says, taking far more than he should. His heart had never let him be too harsh with Lorena. From the moment she appeared in the lodge he had a soft spot for her and that would never change.

“I’m just being a pest, I don’t need a court martial for insubordination” Lorena winks filling the sink with water, it only proves her knowledge of the chain of command. She’d learned a thing or two about the military structure during the 101st’s reunion a few months ago.

“Food is important, it’s always better to have too much of it stored just in case we get snowed in, or the trains get snowed out and provisions stop making their way here. Or we have a long winter” Gale explains.

“When’s the last time anyone can really get in or out?” Lorena asks.

“Depends on the year but after November you’re stuck until around March” Gale explains truthfully. Hesitation washes over Lorena as she does a quick calculation. It would be five months away from her family, five months without consistent communication with them. She’d been silently weighing her options since Felicia’s departure. The heartache of her ex had settled into a bearable wound. As much as she wanted to see them she didn’t want to be forced to remain in a town that felt too muddled by a complicated past and a would be increasingly frustrating present. Lorena didn’t know if she could ever truly be okay with the sight of the man she once loved more than anything happy with someone else. It was the defining reason she had yet to return home, and somehow that bit of self preservation felt cheap. Especially around the likes of Rose and Gale who faced insurmountable challenges head on. A war hero who survived with his sanity intact, and a window making her own way in the wilderness.

The sound of the water stops and Lorena looks up to see Gale has stopped the sink from overflowing. The playfulness is gone from his expression and has been replaced by concern. In a perfect world Lorena could have it all. Her family, friends and home, along with Gale, Rose and the others. Allowing her a moment to herself Gale places the apples into the water where they bob to the surface.

“What is it?” He asks finally.

“My parents miss me a lot, this will be my first Christmas away from them” Lorena confesses.

Her words are just that and Gale can’t help but wonder if there wasn’t another reason for her hesitation. The indication that she missed her ex, that he was one of the reasons she wanted to return. Felicia had been right about his feelings for Lorena, perhaps the older sister was also correct about her sister’s inevitable willingness to take the scoundrel who betrayed her back.

“You can get back home in the spring, it’ll be safer to travel to and from. Felicia can come back with you” he offers now that a world without her under his roof has become inconceivable to him. Lorena scoffs knowing full well that it wouldn’t just be Felicia, it would be her brother and mother as well. Reaching into the basin Lorena begins scrubbing the skin of the apples in preparation for their preservation. Gale stands by her side instead of returning to his task of unloading the hay with the others. His eyes wash over her as stands carrying more than she should emotionally. To Gale there were too many positive qualities to the woman that she should have no insecurities. Feeling the weight of his gaze, Lorena meets him. Something about his blue eyes always seemed to ground her, settle her restlessness and put her at ease. It had been so since the very first time she saw him.

“Gale, we need you - there’s another delivery to be signed for” one of the guys yells from outside.

Gale, we need you. Lorena smiles at the truth of the statement.

“I’m coming!” he shouts, turning back to the door before looking back at Lorena. So it would be a fight after all.

“Whenever you decide to leave I’ll make the trip with you, and if you don’t want to go back your family is welcome here” Gale says with the same commitment to his people that he’d had in the war. It brings a genuine smile to Lorena’s face. The thought of Gale waking through her hometown where he’d stick out like a black swan.

“Maybe you could spend a winter with me sometime and enjoy all the perks of city living.” She suggests making him smile. As long as Lorena saw her future intertwined with his, Gale could be at ease.

“Definitely, I’ll probably be in late. Have dinner with Rose”  He says far more comfortable with stepping out now. Even if it was only a few feet away Lorena’s melancholy weighed him down more than anything else. Lorena’s smile had made it into his dreams and into his heart. It was the only way he wanted to see her now.

…

Rose and Lorena sit on the porch swing watching the boys finish up loading the last few bales of hay for the day. Rose had prepared a hearty dinner that would surely put them to sleep after providing them with adequate nourishment.

“You’re good for him,” the older woman says.

“Huh?” Lorena questions.

“You’re good for him,”  Rose repeats, looking directly at Gale. “He was so angry last year - this entire experience was a nightmare. He hasn’t been angry in months and now he’s finally starting to settle” she says.

“Benefit of time” Lorena says.

“Not just time Lorena, you” Rose says.

“Well, I’m glad I can help,” Lorena responds, making Rose smile.

“Life’s too short to deny yourself the good because of those who’ve mistreated you. We’re all on borrowed time, don’t squander it. You’re young and beautiful and deserve to be loved.”

“Rose? Are you feverish, have you been smoking wild herbs?” Lorena asks, appalled by the older woman's frankness.

“I see the way he looks at you, I’m around. Gale doesn’t make a decision without considering your opinion of comfort. He’s too good a man for most and you’re too good a woman for most. Aside from the obvious facts there’s chemistry there that can’t be denied. Just think about the kind of love he’s capable of Lorena. If he’s been kind, generous and fair with you when you were a stranger.” Rose says hitting Lorena with sobering truths. Looking away from the boys Lorena turns to face Rose who nods with all knowing eyes.

“Gale’s a good man, his heart is set on that gorgeous starlet fiancé that ran away” Lorena sighs knowing intimately.

“He deserves far better than a woman that left him, the man he is and ignored what he was going through.” Rose says and it’s a point Lorena can agree on. “And so do you. I can’t imagine the amount of stupid on that ex-husband of yours. A lady like you being overlooked after staying and being loyal even to this day. Darling you’ve done enough for him. It’s time for you to live for you.” Rose suggests.

Looking at Rose it’s clear as day she’s full of wisdom, she’d always had an omniscient quality to her. Lorena’s silence is only further confirmation of the complicated web of feelings between Gale and herself. Reggie had courted her differently; with large declarations and ostentatious presentations of his affections. Reggie was loud in his love and it was all Lorena had come to know. Gale loved his corners, the quiet and operating in the peripheries if his expertise and leadership were not required.

“So you think I should do what my Ma says and remarry?” Lorena asks, looking into wise eyes.

“I think every woman deserves a taste of the best life has to offer them. You haven’t had it yet and you owe yourself that experience. Someone who cares so much they start digging out an extra cellar in August to prepare enough provisions so that the live-in princess is comfortable” Rose winks before heading into her home.

Lorena sits at a loss for words. Gale stands across the field leading the men in the loading of the barn. Lorena had thought him handsome from day one but she hadn’t thought she was even a contender for his affections, her head hadn’t been in that space when she first arrived. She was nursing her wounds. There was no longing for passion. Only longing for the heartache to cease. And it had. When and where Lorena didn’t know. She could place it. Sometime during the summer after many good days and full weeks. Among the smiles and laughter she’d found peace and Gale had been there every step of the way. Every breakfast, every supper, every night. Every morning he waited to hear movement before getting his day started, and every night he walked across the hall to look in on her before going to bed himself. There’d never been any room or reason for her to think it was something more than otherworldly courtesy. But perhaps with Gale love was the little things, the subtleties, the small kindnesses that add up over time, the careful consideration that makes life easier. The quiet consistency and loyalty that makes you feel a little invincible.

Authors Note: Thanks for reading 💖 I've been in the worst funk lately but the social media algorithm gods have been force feeding so much Austin that my creativity was "re-sparked". Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know how you feel in the comments and re-blogs. The next part is coming and its 🍵 😉

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Your works are absolutely marvelous, It’s so nice to see so much Donna content.

Would you enjoy writing of how donna and her maid slowly fall for each other over time, maybe even one of them finally confessing? Any direction you want to take it I know it would be lovely.

Love your writings !! :)

Yess!!! Here it is!! Thank you for your words!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

I'm not going to break your heart

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Maid! Reader

Warnings: angst, mental health issues, Donna being Donna, fluff,

Word count: 5,408

Summary: You are Donna's maid. She's a complicated woman, but... Maybe with time you can be able to know her...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Oh, this is too long... Again, I'm sorry... Requests are open!!!! I love you all!!! :)))

The village was a horrible, dark place. Even though you were born there, you never felt comfortable. The poverty, the humble lifestyle that was lived there didn’t matter. No, that wasn't the problem. The problem had its own name: Mother Miranda.

The priestess ruled the place. You, the villagers, were a simple flock that followed her footsteps. You never agreed with it, but you knew your life depended on it, literally.

“Did you want to see me, Mother Miranda?” You asked respectfully, with your hands trembling from having that woman so close to you.

“Yes...” She sighed, barely looking at your face. “(Y/N), right?”

“Yes, Mother Miranda,” you answered with your head bowed, fixing your gaze as far away from hers as possible.

“How old are you?” Miranda asked. Of course, a person like her could ask those kinds of questions without fear of seeming impolite. She also wasn’t a woman who liked to waste time.

“25, Mother Miranda,”  you said with a voice broken by fear.

“Mm,” she murmured, barely paying attention to you. You certainly preferred it that way. “You're not married, are you?”

As strange as the question seemed to you, you knew that answering was the only way to get out of that church as soon as possible.

“No, Mother Miranda, I’m not married.”

The priestess raised her head. That golden mask hid almost her entire face, but her icy eyes were still able to pierce your insides.

“Why? Can't find the right man?”  She asked with a sigh, walking in circles around you, as if she were one of the hundreds of crows that flew over the village constantly.

“No, it's not that, Mother Miranda... I...” You stopped just before the words left your mouth. No, she didn't have to know the real reason for your lack of interest in men. It's true that the sexual preferences of the villagers were of no interest to her, but who knows.

“I don't mean to judge you. I'm just making sure you're available. I have to ask you for a favor.

You had to be the maid of one of the lords. That's what she wanted from you.

You had never considered serving any of them. You had heard horrible things about the castle maids. But it's not like you could refuse.

Fortunately, the castle was not your destination. Apparently Miranda wanted you to serve the youngest lord, the solitary and almost unknown doll maker, Donna Beneviento.

Although at first the woman in black refused, all you had to do was to say that it was Mother Miranda's thing and then she reluctantly accepted your services. You had heard horrible things about that woman: that she was crazy, that she could make you kill yourself, that she made you experience true fear... None of that happened, unless your greatest fear is the feeling of emptiness and loneliness.

“Good morning, my lady, have you rested well?” You asked politely like every morning and, like every morning, a slight nod from the lady in black was the only response.

Not even the mystery that black veil hid made the days go by faster. Clean, cook, do the laundry. Your tasks were boring and empty, at least if the Angie doll didn't feel like bothering you.

And again, silence. A dead silence that weighed on your shoulders. You weren't exactly a talkative girl, or one who enjoyed contact with other people, but you would have appreciated some communication from the lady in black.

“Be careful, my lady, it’s still very hot,” you said hastily, making a clumsy gesture to take the coffee cup from her hands.

She backed away like she always did when you got a little closer.

“Donna likes her coffee warm, idiot, not hot as hell,” Angie protested, with a cocky pose.

You rolled your eyes without her seeing you. She was a terribly impertinent doll.

“I'm so sorry, my lady,” you apologized, grabbing the cup carefully. “I'm going to fix it right away.”

“It doesn't matter,” a soft, hoarse voice came from the veil. It was the first time she spoke to you in her own voice.

In those first two months not a single word had come out of her mouth. You supposed that was a good thing, but you were still afraid. Your friends warned you several times to be very careful with that woman.

“I... Fine, my lady," you said, lowering your head and moving away from the lady, who seemed to be studying your gestures.

“You useless maid,” Angie whispered with a childish laugh.

“I’ve already said I'm sorry,” you said, unable to suppress a growl that passed through your throat.

“Enough, Angie. Leave her alone,”  Lady Beneviento spoke again to your surprise. The doll obeyed, huffing and muttering what you thought were insults directed at you, of course.

“You know what? I'm going to cool the cup, so it won't be so hot,” you said, determined to please that stupid porcelain doll. Donna didn't scare you that much, but Angie… Angie was really scary.

The nervousness of hearing her speak for the first time, and the fact that the coffee was too hot, caused the cup to fall to the floor with a clumsy movement, breaking into a thousand pieces.

“Oh, my God... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” you said, hurriedly bending down to pick up the pieces of porcelain.

The lady in black stood up, looking down at you, probably also scared by the sound of the cup breaking.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” you repeated nervously, avoiding looking at that black dress. “I'm so clumsy... Forgive me, I beg you.”

You expected  some angry shouts, even the teasing of the Angie doll. But none of that happened. Instead, you thought you heard a soft laugh coming from the black veil.

“You’re begging me?” She asked curiously. “It's just a cup.”

“Yeah, but, but I...” You stammered, not being able to stop shaking, something that apparently caught Lady Beneviento's attention.

“You're afraid of me,” she whispered, grabbing one of your wrists roughly.

“What? I don't...” You said, surprised by those words.

 “It wasn’t a question. You're afraid of me, you're shaking,” Donna said with a more serious tone while you stood up with the pieces in your hand. “Do you think I'm going to hurt you?”

You didn't really understand the reason for those strange questions. Unfortunately, you couldn't say she wasn't right. You knew who she was, the things she was capable of. In the two months you had been in that house, you had never made a mistake, until that day. You didn't know what the consequences were going to be.

“I... I'm going, I'm going to throw this away and get something to clean the floor...” you said, cowardly fleeing from that conversation, from the first real conversation with that woman.

“No, stay,” the lady ordered, with a demanding tone.

“My, my lady, I...” you murmured.

“What have you heard about me?” She asked, sitting down in the chair again without taking her eyes off yours.

“About you? I don't... I don't understand...”  You said, looking for a hole in the floor to disappear instantly.

“You are my maid, (Y/N). I want you to answer my questions,” the doll maker said, hardening her tone even more, squeezing her hand tightly, as if she were losing her patience.

“My lady, I...” you said in a low voice, unable to understand the situation you found yourself in.

“Answer, stupid, stupid,” Angie demanded, comically leaning over the table.

“Well I...” you said, avoiding looking at her, thinking that maybe running away was a good idea. “They say… They say that you are capable of making people feel real fear, that you can… That you can do horrible things to them.

Donna nodded slowly, listening carefully to her words.

“So do you think I’m going to do horrible things to you just for breaking a coffee cup?” She asked again, seemingly calm, although her clenching hand said otherwise.

“I don't know," you admitted crestfallen, noticing how your nervousness made you stab one of the pieces of porcelain in your hand.

“You don't know,” Donna sighed, with a slightly ironic tone.

You just shook your head.

She was quiet for a moment, looking at you, barely moving. The strength of her hand decreased until her knuckles returned to their original color.

“Pick up this mess and get back to your tasks. I'm not hungry,” she ordered you angrily, getting up from the chair and disappearing from the living room like a ghost.

“I... I didn't mean to...” You stammered, asking yourself what was your mistake.

Her footsteps didn't stop despite your attempt to apologize, disappearing down the old elevator.

“Great...” you whispered, shaking your head.

The days went by. There were no more talking, no more broken cups. The fear you felt was gradually changing to curiosity. What the hell was that reproach about? Were you afraid of her? Of course you were. You knew who she was, the things she was capable of.

One morning, calm as the others, you were cleaning the dust from the stairs, wiping the cloth over the frame of that portrait; the portrait of a stoic woman, with a cold look but undeniable beauty. It was Donna, you knew it was her. You wondered what kind of problems she had, what tormented her so much. Why she didn’t want to show her face, one that you thought was beautiful.

“What is wrong with you?” You asked, looking at the cold eyes of the painting, shaking your head.

“(Y/N),” a hoarse voice interrupted you in your absurd dialogue. The lady in black was standing in the hall. You didn't know how long she had been there, watching you.

“Oh, Lady Beneviento,” you said embarrassed, with a polite smile.

“Who were you talking to?” She asked curiously, tilting her head slightly.

“Oh, I... With no one, with, with myself,” you responded. Actually, you weren't lying.

“Do you talk to yourself?” She wanted to know, getting a bit closer to the stairs.

“Yes, well, it helps me to pass the time,” you said, trying to make sure that the trembling of your hands wasn't so noticeable.

The lady in black nodded slowly, clasping her hands in front of her.

“Do you know how to sew?”

“Sew? Oh, sure,” you said, scratching the back of your neck nervously. “And I'm pretty good at it, to be honest.”

“Fine. Come with me,” the lady said, ignoring your joking attempt, turning around and walking away from you again.

You, of course, followed her silently to the old workshop where she spent most of the time.

Without saying a word, she placed a chair next to a sewing machine and motioned for you to go with her.

“What do you want me to do, my lady?” You asked curiously, while Donna searched through the fabrics.

“The machine has broken. Until my brother comes to fix it, I need you to help me make the dresses for these dolls,” Donna said with a dry tone, handing you the needle and thread and pointing to two porcelain figures.

 “Oh, okay,” you said, taking the objects, accidentally brushing her incredibly soft pale hand.

“Will you be able to do it?” She asked, handing you several fabrics.

“Sure, of course, my lady,” you responded, nodding.

“I hate that,” the lady in black said with a growl. You opened your eyes, surprised and confused, looking for a thousand ways to apologize, you still didn't know why.

“What?” You asked, sounding truly stupid.

“I have a name, you know?” She said with a reproachful tone.

“I don’t…” you stammered, looking around erratically.

“My name is Donna, not my lady,” she said nervously, tightly grabbing one of the gray fabrics. “I don't want you to call me that way again. Is that clear?”

You, almost out of breath from those words, nodded slowly, forcing your legs to stop shaking.

“As you wished my... Donna,” you whispered softly, trying to distract yourself from that conversation.

“Your Donna?” she asked with a different tone, an amused one? “I think you're confused, (Y/N). You’re my (Y/N).”

“Oh, of course, I... I didn’t mean to say that you… I...” You stammered, digging the needle into your finger due to your agitated hands.

“I was just joking,” she murmured, sighing and returning to the fabrics. “You are still afraid of me…”

“No, no. I…” You said hurriedly. You began to think that silence was your ally in that house, not your enemy. You wish you were dusting and talking only to yourself at that moment.

“Look at that doll over there,” Donna said, pointing to it. “I want a dress just like that one.”

“I... Okay,” you said, relieved to return to your increasingly appreciated silence.

Time passed slowly, with the only sound of an old clock breaking the calm of that sinister workshop. The two of you sewed in silence. You were surprised by the skill and delicacy with which she treated each of her works. A feared, dangerous woman did everything possible to ensure that the dolls she created were perfect.

From time to time, you looked at the side of her face; a pale face, partially covered by that horrible black veil. A normal ear, black hair apparently tied up... There was nothing that made you think that this woman was a monster, as the villagers liked to say. For some reason, you felt some discomfort being around her. Not because of her subtle lavender scent or because of the fear she might give you. You felt that somehow, you needed to set the record straight, that you had to let her know that you weren't as scared as she thought.

“Donna,” you said, in a tone so low. You doubted she had heard it.

The lady in black turned her head slowly, but without stopping sewing that small dress.

“I'm sorry,” you said, playing with the black thread in your hand.

“What are you sorry about?” She asked, looking back at the dress.

“I'm sorry I said... Well, I'm sorry you think that...” You stammered, feeling horribly ridiculous.

“I don't like when you stutter, (Y/N). Speak clearly, please,” she asked you kindly.

“I'm not afraid of you,” you said, closing your eyes and praying that Donna wouldn't look at you right at that moment.

“Sei una bugiarda,” she whispered, shaking her head.

You frowned, since you didn't understand her words.

“What? Sorry, I don't understand.”

“I said...” The doll maker said, with anger showing in her voice. “…You are a liar.”

“No, I'm not lying,” you said, stopping sewing and crossing your arms. “Maybe, maybe at first I was afraid. I'm not going to deny it but... This time I've been here... Well, the truth is that I can't complain. What I want to say is that... I’m, I’m comfortable with you,” you said, feeling a knot in your stomach, as if you weren't really just telling the truth, as if those words were hiding something else, something that you couldn't, or didn't want to see.

“Are you?” She asked, also leaving the small dress next to her.

You nodded.

“This is the first time someone has said something like that to me. Excuse me if it's hard for me to believe it,” Donna said crestfallen, playing with her hands in her lap. That was like she was feeling shame too. Curious

There were no more words. After that declaration of sincerity, you returned to your work, to your needle and thread. Donna didn't seem to think about it. You, on the other hand, began to notice a different nervousness when you were next to her.

 Time, days, weeks, months continued to pass. You couldn't say that you had a good relationship with Donna, but it improved a lot. Now, she allowed you to read next to her. Little by little you began to have more developed conversations. Always about banal and absurd topics, but conversations, conversations that didn’t include the words: I'm sorry.

That kind of a beginning of a friendship made your attitude change, looking for the lady in black yourself, wanting to spend more time with her. Maybe it was your imagination, but you had the feeling she was doing exactly the same.

Many times, when you were cleaning the dust in the living room, she would appear by surprise, approaching you, pretending to look for a book on one of the shelves. You knew she was pretending, since she always picked up the same essay about mountain plants.

What was happening? You were dying to find out.

“Happy birthday, (Y/N),” you sighed as you opened your eyes. It was your first birthday in that house. You weren't expecting calls from your friends or your family. Surely they thought you were dead a long time ago. It was not something strange in that village.

You went down the stairs yawning, passing by the portrait that, for a while, began to give you chills. It was no longer fear, or uncertainty, it was something else, something you were ashamed to say.

On top of the dining room table, there was something different. It seemed as if… As if someone had given you a gift. A beautiful rose decorated what looked like a carefully wrapped package. Next to it there was a card.

You picked it up suspiciously, wondering who had been thoughtful enough to send you something like that. There was no way you believed Donna had anything to do with it.

I hope you can enjoy your birthday the same way I enjoy your company.

Donna

“What? You're kidding me?” You whispered with wide eyes and trembling hands. Had it been her? It seemed incredible. Would it be a trap? There was only one way to find out.

You unwrapped the small package carefully. You didn't know what to expect and you didn't know why your heart was beating so fast.

“Oh, wow...” You whispered when you took a small bracelet with gold and silver tones out of the box. It seemed like something very expensive and unexpected. “My God… It’s amazing…”

“Do you like it?” a familiar soft and hoarse voice spoke behind you. There was Donna, with a formal but nervous posture, studying your gestures. Frightened, you put your hand on your chest.

“Donna, I... You didn't have to,” you said, smiling, running your fingers through the small golden flowers that adorned the bracelet.

“I wanted to do it,” she said, abruptly.

You nodded gratefully, awkwardly trying to place the gift on your wrist.

“Wait, let me help you.”

Donna approached slowly, taking the bracelet in her hand and wrapping it around your wrist. The touch of her skin against yours made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Maybe it was because she had never been so close to you, or maybe it was because you wanted her to be that close.

“I... Thank you very, very much,” you said, looking at your now decorated wrist.

Her hand stayed in yours, you assumed due to inertia. Her fingers played with yours naturally, but with the feeling that they had no intention of letting yours go.

“You deserve it. I... I, I like you're here with me,” she said shyly, pushing her hand away from you when she realized where it was.

“It's quite a compliment my... Donna,” you said nervously, not knowing whether to go back or advance a few inches, confused by the feeling of wanting to do it.

“Your Donna,” she repeated with an amused tone. You smiled back and for a moment, a kind of out-of-nowhere tension came between you.

“I... I better go to prepare breakfast,” you said, making the decision to move away. She sighed and shook her head.

“Let me do it myself. Today is your birthday. Also, it's a great day. Would you like to have breakfast outside? You know, together,” she asked, looking away from you.

“Of course, I would love to...” You sighed, staring into her black veil.

From that moment on, something you couldn't see had begun. You no longer ate separately, you had stopped distancing yourself. You began to eat together, to watch movies together, in short, to be together.

You already knew what things you could say without make her mad, the things you could talk about without fear of punishment. In an instant everything became different, almost as if it were a dream, or a creation of your mind to make your life a bit more pleasant.

Of all the people in the village, you never imagined you would have feelings for one of the lords. Yes, feelings. You could no longer deny your nervousness when being with her, your heartbeat every time she touched you. Maybe you were losing your mind, or maybe it was already lost.

One night, like every other night for a while, you looked at the bracelet on your wrist in the moonlight. Sleeping was a luxury that your thoughts no longer allowed you to do. You thought about her, about Donna. You wondered why people said those things about her, why they thought she was a monster when she never was such a thing for you. You were also looking for an excuse to stop feeling the things you felt, to refuse to admit that you were falling in love with her.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” A squeaky voice brought you out of your self-pity. The Angie doll suddenly came into your room, jumping onto the bed and shaking you.

“Angie, what's wrong? What do you want?” You asked, moving the wooden arms away from your body.

“It's Donna, Donna has problems,” the doll said, visibly nervous. You stood up immediately, frowning.

“What problems? What's wrong?”  You asked following the puppet out of the room.

“She has lost her mind again! Help her, help her, please!” Angie shouted, dragging to the old elevator.

“Okay, okay, calm down...” you said nervously, trying not to trip over anything in the dark.

You knew that Donna sometimes suffered from anxiety attacks, that her mental problems were always lurking. You had always left her alone. You were never allowed to help her.

“Donna?” You asked entering the bedroom, where the lady in black was, sitting in the corner, balancing with her knees on her chest. “Donna, what's wrong?”

“No! Stay away!” The lady in black screeched, putting a hand in front of her. “They, they will catch you!”

“They? What are you talking about?” You asked carefully, approaching slowly and crouching down next to her. “Hey, Donna, calm down.”

“Go away! I don't want them to hurt you!” She screamed again, hitting the wooden floor with her fists. That had to hurt.

You, ignoring her delirious screams, grabbed her wrists to prevent them from going down again.

“Come on, calm down, Donna...” You whispered, trying hard to keep her hands from moving. “Everything is fine, I'm here.”

“They, they whisper things to me... they want, they want to hurt us...” She murmured, with her gaze lost, shaking her head.

You were so nervous that you hadn't even noticed a small detail. The black veil that covered her face had disappeared. The mysterious Donna Beneviento revealed herself to you without wanting it.

It was a beauty incomparable to any other, a scared and hurt face, a scar that took up part of the right side of her face. That was the reason. That's why she wore the veil. Her black hair was tied up in a messy bun, harmoniously framing her features. You could have been staring at her face, at her newfound beauty. But it wasn't the time.

“They want to leave me alone!” The lady screamed, fighting against the force you exerted on her arms. “Get out!”

“Donna, come on, relax. There's no one here…” You said, pushing your way through her spasms, kneeling in front of her. “No one wants to hurt you.”

“No... You will abandon me... They have told me... You are a bitch!”

You shook your head, feeling deeply sad at being unable to bring poor Donna back to her senses.

“No, stop, honey... You're going to hurt yourself, come on, stop, Donna, come to your senses. I'm here with you, I will never abandon you. Do you hear me?”

When her attempt to hurt her hands stopped, you took the opportunity to bring yours to her face, cupping it firmly so she could look at you. Her eye was red from crying.

Her breathing relaxed a bit, letting her arms fall to the floor and looking at you in panic.

“That's it... Relax. Nobody is going to hurt you. I would never allow it... Come on, breathe, breathe with me...”

She followed your orders, despite still being nervous. Your hands caressed her face lovingly as you brought her forehead against yours.

“Okay, Donna... Breathe... You're safe...” You whispered affectionately as her hands returned to your wrists, gripping them tightly but with no intention of causing harm.

“(Y/N)...” The lady in black sighed, moving away from you and bringing one of her hands to her uncovered face. Unfortunately, she realized that you had seen her.

“Shhh, no, it's okay,” you said when she thrashed around in your arms again, trying to escape your grip.

“Let me go! Don't look at me!” Donna screamed, pushing you angrily, causing you to fall to the floor backwards.

“Hey, hey, come on. It's okay,” you said, standing up, grabbing her wrist when she was about to run away. “Donna, stop.”

“No, no... Why did you have to do it?!” She wailed with a heartbreaking cry, stamping her feet hard on the floor, making even Angie hide behind a piece of furniture.

“I just want to help you,” you said, with tears in your eyes. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. “Come on, come here…” you whispered, extending your hand towards her, who pushed it away with a resounding smack.

“I'm a monster,” the lady in black said sobbing, turning her back on you.

“No, no, Donna, you're not,” you said, approaching cautiously, putting a hand on her shoulder. You didn't know the limit of her patience, especially in that state. “You are a beautiful woman and… And a  kind one. I love spending the day with you, reading with you... You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met and I...”

“Do you think you can fool me?  Do you think you can make me believe that you appreciate me? That’s what you want? Do you want me to fall in love even more and then abandon me?”

“What? No...” You said with a sad look, without paying attention to her words. At least at first.

“You’re lying”

“I'm not lying,” you whispered as she turned towards you, head down, embarrassed by her appearance. “You are… You are special to me.”

“Do you know how many maids like you have told me those stupid words?” She asked, abruptly removing your hand from her shoulder.

“No, I don’t know.”

“They were all the same, liars who only wanted to rob me... Insult me, some of them even tried to kill me... You are all the same... You’re just bitches, all of you.”

“Donna, stop saying those things... Your words are hurting me,” you sobbed, shaking your head and trying unsuccessfully to caress her cheek.

“And to think that you were different from them hurts me too. I thought you felt something for me,” she accused with a sigh, with a dangerous look.

“Donna, I...” You said, incredulous at the pain in her words. “I feel something for you. I don't know what horrible things they've done to you but... But...”

“Shut up. Look at me! She screamed madly, grabbing your head tightly, making you look at her face, making you unable to look anywhere else. “No one could feel anything for me, I'm horrible and you know it. I really loved you, (Y/N). I really thought you were different.”

“Well, I'm different,” you protested, lowering her arms abruptly.

“Get out my sight. Take whatever you want from the house and disappear forever. I don't want to think you're telling the truth just for breaking my heart later. Leave before I feel the need to hurt you.”

“What? No, I don't want to leave,” you said with a grimace of displeasure. “I don't want to leave. I want to stay with you!” You screamed, desperate at your inability to reason with her.

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not lying! I love you!” You shouted, confessing a truth that was already beginning to be too heavy on your head.

“You can't love me!” Donna screamed back, pushing you angrily by your shoulders. “You can’t…”

Before she could react, you approached her, grabbing her chin, taking advantage of that small moment of delirium. Your hands traveled to her waist, gently pulling her towards your body. One of them went up to her cheek, caressing it slowly as your head leaned towards hers, closing the distance between you with a slow, but firm kiss.

She gasped in shock, but she made no effort to move away from you. Her entire body relaxed and her hands rested on your cheeks, keeping your lips glued to hers, not wanting to lose that contact, that sensation that your kisses caused.

“(Y/N)...” She whispered into your lips, separating slowly before launching herself into them again, deepening the kiss, in a messy but affectionate way.

“I love you, Donna...” You said sobbing, cupping her face in your hands, with your lips still very close to hers.

“You, you’ve kissed me,” the doll maker said, confused, but not wanting to move an inch. “No one had ever kissed me…”

“That's because they didn't feel what I feel for you...” You said tenderly, sincerely, grabbing the hand that rested on your cheek. “I don't care if you don't believe me, but every day I thank Mother Miranda for send me with you, Donna. I don't care if you don't believe me when I tell you that you are beautiful, that I hate the veil that covers your face. I don't mean to trick you, to hurt you, I just... I just want to be with you... My Donna...”

“Do you want to be with me?” She asked uncertainly, studying your features very closely, her voice trembling.

“I want”

“Aren't you going to abandon me?”

“Never”

An innocent smile spread across her face before kissing you again in an intense, erratic way, not wanting to let you even take a breath.

“I, I would really like to be with you, (Y/N)... I... No one has ever felt that way about me...”

You laughed softly, kissing her quickly again and hugging her tightly, making her feel safe in your arms.

“Let me love you, Donna...” You whispered into her shoulder, pressing her body tightly against yours. “Let me spend my life with you, enjoy how wonderful you are…”

She withdrew slowly, with a sigh that told you something was wrong. Her hands moved down your hips, meeting your own hands as her gaze focused on yours. Her expression had changed.

“I wish I could believe you, (Y/N), but I can’t, not yet,” Donna whispered, bringing a hand to your chest, regaining the distance she had lost. “I have always been so alone…”

“Not anymore, Donna, you're not alone anymore.  You don't have to trust me right now but... I will do whatever it takes to show you that my feelings are sincere,” you said, not letting desperation force you to kneel and beg for a chance.

Her gaze lowered back to your lips, wanting to kiss them again but, at the last moment, she regretted it.

“If you knew the things you make me feel, how fast my heart beats when you're around...” The lady whispered sadly, distrustfully.

“I believe I know. I feel the same way,” you said, letting your heart speak for you.

“Don't break my heart, please...” Donna whispered again, now gently kissing your lips.

“I would never do it,” you said between kisses, letting yourself be carried away by her sweet caresses, caresses that wandered over your body, exploring it cautiously.

“I want to keep kissing you,” Donna said, getting closer, begging not to lose that new sensation for her.

“As you wish, my Donna...”

[lu-dao-writes]

— 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞 (𝙇𝙤𝙧𝙚)

Summary: An oracle unknowingly lived in a cult their entire life, cursed with a touch that sends people into madness and elation. The cult’s goal was to resurrect the demon, Māra, but thanks to being enlightened with the truth, the oracle destroys the cult and flees in search of the Senobium, desperate for a cure; and if no cure was possible then they’d open themself into death’s arms. They had no idea of the dangerous people they’d encounter in the downtrodden and shady city that is Eridia.

— 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐬

(So that I don’t repeat myself too much, I had my friend, who is very knowledgeable in tarot, help me understand the cards when trying to figure out how this bunch feels about me. Please don’t take these as canon.)

Leander: two of cups, the lovers, wheel of fortune reversed, eight of cups reversed, knight of swords, and knight of wands.

I thought right away that with my background in mind, I’d be the perfect victim for Leander. In desperate need of help, and nowhere to go and no one to trust.

My friend pretty much said he thinks we’re made for each other even though it’s utterly toxic. He knows what he feels and wants to do is bad, but he doesn’t care and is willing to continue a toxic cycle.

All in all, scary stuff, and I’ve all but walked into the trap he laid out.

Vere: the magician, judgment, king of coins, king of swords

When I first went over it, I was puzzled because to me it seemed too positive, because it’s Vere we’re talking about. Overall I thought that Vere could see that I’ve been dealt a bad hand in life, but I have the tools to avoid that again if I’m smart enough to not let it happen.

My friend sums it up to Vere thinks I’m capable enough to hurt him. He doesn’t underestimate me because he believes if he slips up, I can get him. If I act clueless (when I truly am just clueless), he doesn’t believe me. But our relationship overall can end up a bit positively as long as I continue to treat him like a person rather than a pet.

And apparently he’s willing to be my pet😅😳🫣… (y’all when I was told that I was wheezing. Honestly thought he’d hate my guts fr.)

Mhin: Ace of coins reversed, king of cups, the high priestess, three of coins

In short of Mhin and I’s relationship: “Don’t wanna fuck with you, but I still care a little.”

Much like how they pay attention to Ais, they pay attention to me, but they aren’t keen on getting close. Our overall relationship can be very sweet though because we can grow from one another and lean on each other strengths. “Where you fall short, Mhin can help, and where they fall short, you can assist.”

Ais: Four of Wands reversed, Ace of cups, two of cups, nine of wands reversed, four of coins, the fool reversed, ten of cups.

Wooo I tell you-.

Ais and I are quite alike, and we both draw each other in. But overall we’re fantasizing the impossible. If Ais and I were to get together, to cross the line where it’s no longer platonic, things can and will become more complicated and hard for us. We’re both are too different that we’d never have much progress.

We looked more into it and it seems that arguments are frequent to happen, mainly due to Ais not wanting to change.

Bonus: Ocudeus: Three of Coins, Magician (sideways), knight of wands reversed

I forgot to write the notes down, but I believe Ocudeus has almost the same mindset as Vere with not wanting to underestimate me. Mainly just lurking I believe.

Kuras: Queen of cups reversed, the lovers, the tower reversed, ten of wands.

I think this one’s almost as bittersweet- maybe if not more- as Ais’s and I’s relationship.

My friend got orpheus and eurydice vibes. Our story is supposed to end in tragedy and he can only watch it happen. I’m supposed to be his, but it doesn’t work. We’re both shouldered with burden. Definitely also some reincarnation vibes which is a theory I’ve seen mentioned and can get behind due to the demo.

Elyon: three of cups, eight of swords reversed, The World, Seven of wands, Five of swords reversed, and Four or wands reversed.

Y’all don’t know how stunned I was at this one lol.

So my friend said that we’re close friends, and him being protective. It could be for his own benefit but he’s also genuine in wanting to keep me safe at the same time.

When I asked how we even became close because of our clear differences (him being a wealthy businessman and me a random poor individual), I got page of cups reversed, empress reversed, and queen of coins reversed.

Initially I thought I went to his brothel to feel less insecure, but my friend said he saw it more as he gives me compliments or something because he can tell I’m insecure. Maybe even offered the brothel to help with that because you need money.

Sen: Temperance reversed, six of swords reversed, ten of swords reversed, and five of swords reversed.

To put it simply, Sen is obsessed with the idea that I can possibly kill her, but I refuse to do so.

I asked my deck which love interest is best suited for me and Mhin takes the cake; and I found it very interesting because in my deck the card I got was the three of swords and the story chosen for the card is “The Crane Wife”.

— 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐲𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐦

𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧/𝐃𝐚𝐨 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐞𝐧

𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

· · ───── ·𖥸· ───── · ·

⟡ 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 & 𝐒𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

⟡ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 & 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐥

⟡ 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐲 & 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[ghouly-boiiiii]

A Light in the Dark 🕯️

Chapter 1: Throwing Stones

Lucy x Cooper Howard / The Ghoul

Summary: Takes place directly after the end of Season 1. As they begin their journey, Lucy is understandably very angry and fearful towards the Ghoul. She hates him, and is only joining him because she wants answers. He, however, is harboring secret feelings for Lucy ever since she saved his life. Having not been with anyone since Barb, and believing she would never feel the same, the bounty hunter has to deal with these feelings on his own. Little does he know, Lucy finds herself having inexplicable feelings for him as well, and struggling to make sense of them.

Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Casual Sex Lucy and No Wait Let Me Court You Cooper, Cooper is touch-starved and rusty in bed, He's also self-conscious about his body, Ghoul channels old romantic Cooper, Lucy is confused by strange surface dweller mating customs, She helps him discover his old self, He helps her discover her true self, Did I mention there would be angst

Rating: Mature - Word Count: 1,742

SPOILER WARNING: Contains all the spoilers. No trigger warnings except eventual sexy time with a zombie man and lots of angst.

In this chapter...

To her horror, the rock shot straight forward and bounced off the back of The Ghoul’s head.

She threw her hands up in front of her. “I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to hit you! Please, don’t…”

“Don’t worry…” To her surprise, his voice was gentle and unthreatening. “I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to hurt cha’… But…” The Ghoul kneeled down and picked up a rock, then looked up at her and threw it in her direction.

She watched as fell to the ground at her feet.

“Huh… I missed.” He shrugged with an odd smile, then turned back around and kept walking.

Authors Note: This fic starts out somewhat similar to my other fic, My Name Is Cooper, because it starts directly after the end of the season. They have similar conversations at first, but the tone is much different and the story goes in a completely different direction. This one is more serious (still with some humor though, of course), and is probably going to be longer. I really wanted to do a more realistic, slow burn romance. I know there's a ton out there already, but I wanted to do my own version because idk, reasons I guess lol. But I really wanted to dive deep into how these two navigate their relationship and the very complicated feelings they might have for each other. This is what you might call another free-writing project, so I don't know *exactly* where it's gonna go, but I will do my best to make sure it has a decent ending when the time comes! Inspired by the cool peeps on Discord and touch-starved Cooper headcanons lol.

Lucy felt the cool night air fill her lungs as she took a deep breath and tried to still her mind. It was silent. Nothing but the soft crunch of leaves and dirt under their feet, and perhaps the occasional frog or cricket.

The vault dweller looked out at the distance before them. A fog rose up from the earth, illuminated by the faint glow of a thousand lights that mirrored the stars above. She was in awe, even thinking that it was beautiful. But it was only a distraction from all the pain and confusion she felt.

Her whole world had turned upside down. Nothing was as she believed it was. Nothing was as it seemed. Everything she thought she knew had crumbled into dust within a matter of minutes. She was numb. Overwhelmed. Everything felt surreal. And now she found herself once again alone… with him. 

As Lucy stared ahead at his silhouette in the darkness, she felt nothing but disdain. The young vault dweller was taught to forgive and forget. But she was fairly certain the people who taught her that were never fed to a giant salamander or tied up by their neck and dragged around a desert or sold for organs. How could she possibly forgive, let alone forget, such horrible things that were done to her?

She couldn’t. But she had to stuff down her feelings and let it go… for now. 

“So… where are we going?” Lucy finally asked. They must have been walking for at least thirty minutes at this point. And he hadn’t looked back even once, only reacting to the dog when she came up to him, and even then with barely more than a glance. Lucy wasn’t even sure if he knew she was still following him anymore.

The Ghoul didn’t answer right away. He waited a moment, before he took a breath and said, “Can’t say for sure yet… but looks like yo’ daddy might be headed for New Vegas.”

“...That’s a town?” 

“Big town.” 

“Okay…” Lucy took a deep breath. The conversation seemed to be going… okay so far. “So…  what’s in this town? Why do you think he’d want to go there?”

The Ghoul didn’t answer.

The vault dweller swallowed hard. She wanted to push, but she knew she had to be cautious. “How do you know my father? Are you going to tell me?”

The bounty hunter seemed to be ignoring her.

She huffed. He was so rude. So rude and inconsiderate and unaccommodating, it sickened her. Maybe if she started with something simpler… “Okay, so… do you got like a… name or something?”

Again, nothing.

Lucy frowned, her tone getting exasperated. “I’m just… wondering what I should call you… You really not gonna answer that either?”

“I don’t give a good goddamn what you call me.” He snapped, sounding a bit angry.

Lucy fell silent and her throat got tight, a bit of fear rising in her. She truly didn’t know what kind of madness compelled her to follow this man, after everything he did to her. She was hypervigilant about his every movement. Knowing that at any moment, he could turn around and try to do... something to her. 

With her hand on her pistol, she kept her distance. This one, armed with actual bullets. She wasn’t sure if it would do much, but it was something. 

Truly, every fiber of her being told her to get as far away from this… creature as she humanly could, but…

He had answers. And so did whoever they were going to find. She needed those answers. There was no question about it. Sure, she could just turn around and go home. Go back to her life in the Vault with Norm and Chet and Stephanie and everyone else. But she would never be able to live with herself. Those questions would never stop haunting her. She would never stop feeling compelled to seek the truth. Lucy knew this about herself, and her body acted almost automatically as she took one step in front of the other behind those of this two-hundred year old cowboy. 

“Look… you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. Obviously, we’re not friends. But if we’re going to be working together… we need to at least communicate effectively...”

The Ghoul was silent for a moment, then finally responded, “Well, then… I got a question for you , Vaulty.”

“...Okay?”

“What happened to the doctor?”

“...The doctor?”

“Yeah. How’d he end up with no head?” This time, he did turn his head slightly, although not enough to see her. “...Who cut it off?”

"Uhh... Well, uh... I-I did..." Lucy's eyes fell to the ground.

"You did?" The bounty hunter said in surprise.

“Uhh… well…” She swallowed hard, as she remembered the task. She’ll never forget having to cut off someone’s head for the first time… and, well… hopefully, the last. “He asked me to.”

“He asked you to cut off his head?” This time, he did look back at her, peering over his shoulder questioningly with a raised brow.

“Yes… he… he took cyanide and told me… He told me it would be easier… if I just… brought his head…” 

The Ghoul turned to face ahead of him, then just said, “Huh…”

There was silence for a moment, before he asked another question. “What about the Super Duper Mart? What'd you do in'ere?”

Lucy blinked, then narrowed her eyes at him, flustered by the fact that he would ask that, considering he put her in that situation. “...Why do you wanna know?”

“Curious, I guess.” The Ghoul said simply. "It's just kinda funny... what with all that 'Golden Rule' talk, how many people seem ta' end up dead 'round you."

“It was an accident!" The vault dweller quickly retorted. “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt... I just…" She paused and looked down at the ground somberly, remembering Martha. "They... they were holding all those people captive… I... I couldn’t just leave them there…”

“You mean those ghouls?”

“They’re people. Maybe they have a condition, but they’re still people..." She snapped, then added under her breath. "Unlike you...” 

Dangit. That was not a good thing to say. Lucy bit her tongue, hoping he didn't hear.

She swallowed hard and tried to play it off. “But I did have to kill some of them. So, you know…” She said, trying to sound confident in her ghoul-killing skills. "I'd, uh... watch out... if I were you."

"Heh. Well, good for you, Vaulty." He snickered. “…Anyways, how did you get the–”

“Now! Now, hold on!” Lucy said, holding up a bluish-grey finger. “If you get to ask me things, I get to ask you things.” She lifted her head a bit higher. “A question for a question. That’s only fair.”

The Ghoul peered over his shoulder at her again for a moment as he continued to walk, then turned back. “Alright.”

“Yeah… so…” She looked down at the ground and exhaled, then back up with determination in her eyes. “So I get to ask you—”

“Two questions.”

“Five.” 

“Five?” 

“That’s right. You technically asked me five questions. Actually, six.”

“Well, that don’t sound quite fair to me, Vaulty.” He said with a smirk. “I asked you two questions. The rest were for clarification. They don’t count.” 

She huffed in dismay. It was worth a try, she thought.

He chuckled. “Tell you what. You can ask me however many questions you want. But I get to pick which ones I answer.”

“No! That’s not fair! I answered the questions you asked me, now you’re gonna answer mine.”

“Well, you didn’t have to answer my questions. That was your choice.”

“What!? I–” She huffed, unsure how to counter that.

“Alright… question for a question.” The bounty hunter said, raising his voice, and two fingers.  "You got two. Have at it, sweetheart.”

The vault dweller jumped, then quickly ran up closer, but still stayed a few feet behind him. Out of arms reach. “...Name?”

“Pass.”

“How do you know my dad?”

“Hard pass.”

She huffed. “This isn’t fair.”

“And what is, darlin'?” He scoffed, holding his arm out beside him. “What in God’s Green Earth made you think that anything in the wasteland is ever fucking fair? It’s every man for himself out here, sweetheart. Thought you might’ve figured that out by now.”

Lucy growled, and as she momentarily lost her cool, she kicked a rock in front of her. To her horror, it shot straight forward and bounced off the back of The Ghoul’s head.

He froze, and she took a sharp gasp. Oh, no… now she’d done it.

As she watched The Ghoul slowly turn around to face her, she threw her hands in front of her. “I’m sorry!” She said in a panic. “I-I didn’t mean to hit you! Please, don’t…”

The old bounty hunter stood there and just stared at her a moment. “Don’t worry…” His face was in shadow, but she could see the gleam in his eyes. To her surprise, his voice was gentle and unthreatening. “I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to hurt cha’…” 

Lucy rose her head and lowered her arms a little, relaxing somewhat.

“But…” The Ghoul kneeled down and picked up a rock from the ground. He tossed it in his hand once, then stood, looked up at her, and threw it in her direction.

She watched as it weakly flew towards her, then fell to the ground at her feet.

“Huh… I missed.” He shrugged with an odd smile, then turned back around and kept walking. 

She looked up at The Ghoul and raised an eyebrow before she continued to follow, wondering what the hell that was all about.

“One thang you gotta learn, Vaulty…” He said, raising his voice commandingly. “Caps ain’t the only form of money up here. Everything you have is potential currency. That includes information.” He said. “You see, that Golden Rule a yer’s only works if other people agree with it. Now that might be all peachy down in your vault, but up here, you don’t wanna be givin’ nothin’ away unless you know you gettin’ somethin’ in return. If you don’t do that, you’ll be eaten alive out here.”

“So… You’re giving me survival lessons now?”

“Yeah… I guess I am.” He said as he turned to smile at her, then tipped his hat up with a single finger. “...But those you can have for free.”

To be continued...

[hanniebaeee]

Always You

Best friend's brother Lee Know x fem!reader

Warning: Just a bit of kissing.

Summary: You're in trouble and the first person you call is your best friend's brother, Minho.

Minho sat scrolling absent-mindedly through his phone as a movie played on the TV in the background. He was lonely and everyone he knew seemed to be busy. His best friends are out with their partners. His sister was on a date. He had no idea where you were. He wondered what you were up to. It's been a few weeks since you guys spoke and he missed you.

Placing the phone on his lap, he looked back at the tv and sighed. This is so boring.

He glanced down at his phone as it vibrated on his lap. His heart skipped a beat as your name flashed on the screen. He was quick to grab it, pressing it to his ear.

'Y/N?'

Your breathing wasn't right. You were stuttering and crying and he was on his feet, already moving out of the living room.

'Minho? Minho, oh my god!' You couldn't form words as your sobs took over.

'Y/N, where are you? Are you hurt?' Minho's questions were urgent as he was already out of his apartment, speed walking to his car.

'Minho, I don't know where I am. I'm so scared, can you please come and get me? Please?' You cry and his heart sank.

'Jagi, send me your location and sit tight, yeah? I'm on my way.' Minho said, waiting and looking at your location.

'Are you hurt? What happened?!' He asked, driving - already skipping a red light.

'I fell and I think I twisted my ankle... I'm not even dressed right, Minho. I'm, I'm -'

'It's ok. I'm on my way.' Minho said, trying to console you.

His heart was racing as he sped through to find you. You were his younger sister's best friend. Your family had moved to Korea when you were in middle school and you all grew up together. Being a foreigner had been hard and you did face some level of bullying and racism at school, but Minho and his sister, Hana had been your pillars of support. Minho was fiercely protective over you both and it never channged even as you got older.

You and Hana were still best of friends. Minho had moved out of his family home after college, but he did stay in the same city. You and Hana too worked nearby, so you all met every now and then. It's been a while now, and he couldn't help but feel a flood of emotions course through his body as he thought of you.

Minho has had a soft spot for you for years. Hana teased him endlessly for this. And he was sure that was a little in love with you. He tried his best to ignore these feelings as he didn't want to complicate your relationship. You were one of the nicest persons he knew - you were kind, you were so caring and loyal and above everything, you were always there.

Unknown to Hana, he called you whenever he felt like things were getting out of hand. On his most stressful days, he would ask you to come over, you would share a drink and hold his hand until his calmed down. Nothing more, nothing less. You gave him support. You gave him your time and your presence, no matter when he wanted it. And you never asked for more.

Minho looked at the map and saw that he was close. His eyes fell on your shivering form at the side of a secluded road. Stopping the car, he was out in an instant, making his way over to you.

'Y/N!'

Your head snapped up and you were crying harder at the sight of him. He was on his knees in front of you, hugging you tightly. Pulling back, he checked you for any injuries and then he saw you swollen ankle. You wore a navy blue sequined dress that fell to your mid thigh and heels - you never liked heels. You were way too clumsy on them. You shivered and Minho quickly draped his jacket over your exposed shoulders before helping you stand. You wince in pain and said, 'I don't think I can walk, Minho. I'm so sorry, I can't-'

You weren't even done talking, when he picked you up bridal style, making you gasp. After helping you into the passenger seat safely, Minho was driving again.

'What happened?' He asked.

'I had a fight with Lisa. She dragged me to a party and tried to set me up with her friend. She said some really mean things when I refused, she kinda forced me and...I said I wanted to go home, she agreed to drive, but then, ditched me in the middle of the road. We fought again and she kinda pushed me. These stupid heels-'

'What kind of friends do you keep Y/N?!' Minho scolded, glaring at you. 'Why wasn't Hana aware of this?'

'Hana had plans, I didn't want to bother her' You said sadly.

'Its just a date Y/N. You always come first.' Minho said.

'Im sorry Minho. My dad is out of town and if my parents ever knew, they would never let me out of the house again. You know them... Yours was the only face that came to my mind when -' You pull at your dress self-consciously, trying to cover your thighs as much as possible.

You fall silent and Minho looks at you for a second before his eyes are back on the road. His heart fluttered at the thought. He was the only one you thought of. He placed a hand on your knee, patting gently.

'I'm sorry i got mad. I was so worried when you called crying. I don't even know how I got here.' Minho said with a sigh. 'How does the ankle feel?'

'It's ok, Lino.' You said, and smile as you see a small smile on his face. 'My ankle hurts though.'

He takes you straight to the emergency room, where you get your ankle looked at and bandaged. He carried you to the car even though you told him a hundred times that you can just take a wheelchair. Then he takes you to his apartment, and orders some food.

You sit on his sofa, watching him plate up the food and hand your plate to you. You eat in silence, his eyes not leaving you.

'What?' You ask, feeling the heat creep up your neck.

'Why was Lisa trying to set you up with some random guy?' Minho asked, eyebrows furrowed.

'She's like that. She thinks I don't date anyone 'coz I can't get a date on my own.' You said, chewing on your food. 'She can't wrap her head around the fact that maybe I don't want to, you know.'

'Why don't you want to?' Minho asked, keeping his plate on the coffee table and turning to face you.

'I just-' You contemplate whether it's safe to say the truth or not. 'Lino, you know why.'

'I do?' Minho asked, and you know he does. He just didn't want to acknowledge anything.

'Don't you?' You ask, tilting your head in question. 'After all this time?'

'I need to hear you say it.' Minho said, moving closer.

'Why won't you say it?' You ask, your heart hurting at his avoidance. 'Don't I come running anytime you need me? I'm always here aren't I? You've always known. Since high school, Lino.'

'Y/N-'

'Don't tell me that you don't think about that camping trip. If you pretend that it didn't happen, it won't go away.' You say, tears blurring your vision.

You were in your first year of college and you had gone on a camping trip with Hana and Minho. The siblings went on to fight throughout the day and by nighttime, Hana refused to even sleep in the same tent. But they literally had no other option, so you offered to sleep in the middle to which they reluctantly agreed. Late into night, you heard sniffling and turned to face Minho, who was in tears.

'Lino, what happened?' You whispered, moving closer to him.

'Hana thinks I'm not a good brother. My father thinks I'm not a good son. Im just a fucking failure-'

'Yah, what are you even talking about?!' You asked, pulling your hand out from under your blanket to wipe at his tears. 'Hana just wanted to win the fight. You know that.'

'They keep doing this. They keep telling me I'm not good enough!'

'Lino, you're good enough. More than good actually. People say mean things just to ruffle you when you're right. I'm sure they don't even mean it. Don't you trust me?' You asked, cupping his cheek with your hand. 'You're the best.'

Minho wiped the tears off his face and opened his arms.

'Can we cuddle?' He asked. 'Please?'

You stare at him, surprised. You've never done this before. But you nod and settle underneath his blanket, your back presses to his chest. He makes a cocoon with the blanket around you, his arms tight around you. Sleep comes almost immediately in his warm embrace. But late into the night, you turn around in your sleep, and open your eyes as your nose touched his.

He opens his eyes too, both your faces so close - noses touching, lips so so close. His eyes drop to your lips and his arms around you tighten, pulling you as close as humanly possible. You let it happen - his lips are so soft and warm and gentle on yours.

'It's so fucking hot!' Hana's loud voice had you both jumping apart. Minho turned to the other side, breathing heavily and you remained silent as Hana sat up and tossed her jumper to the side. The next morning, the siblings apologized and made up. You and Minho never spoke of this incident after that day. But you both knew that deep down, you were both in love.

'I was afraid' Minho said, slowly. 'I didn't even know if you wanted to kiss me back. I felt like I had just done it and you didn't even have a chance to push me away. And then Hana woke up and-'

'You're an idiot if you thought I didn't want that.' You said, shaking your head. 'If I felt violated that day, I won't be here every time you wanted my company, Minho.'

Minho nodded and sighed.

'I don't want to ruin anything, Y/N. Hana loves you a lot and I can't-'

'Hana knows that I like you, you pabo.' You said and he stared at you like you had sprouted horns.

'She doesn't mind, does she?.' Minho said.

'Oh no, she loves the idea of us together.' You said, wanting to laugh at how clueless he could be sometimes.

'Why do you both always torture me like this?' Minho asked, running a hand over his face.

'Because you think you're too rough and tough, but you're just a cute little idiot.'

'Right. Good reason to torture someone.'

You shrug.

'So, what happens now?' You ask.

Minho looked at you, and his mind and heart were both very clear about one thing - he wasn't going to let you slip out of his hands again. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

'I'm gonna love you. We have wasted a lot of time, baby. I'm not gonna sit here and waste anymore.'

Your eyes shine with happy tears as he hugs you and kisses you.

'I love you, Lino.' You mumbled against his neck. 'Never letting you go.'

'I love you more, jagi' he said, placing little kisses on the top of your head. He carries you to his bedroom and helps you get changed into some of Hana's pyjamas. You couldn't help but smile as he climbed into bed and settled down beside you. He kissed you more until you were both too tired and fell asleep in each other's arms.

Hana: Why didn't you call me?!

Hana: wtf Y/N!

Hana: where the hell are you?!

Y/N: yah, calm down

Y/N: I'm ok, at Lino's now

Hana: what are you doing there this early in the morning?

Hana: Y/N L/N

Y/N: Hana please

Hana: Did you guys talk?? Did you guys...?

Hana: Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes

Y/N: HANA.

Hana: where is that pabo

Y/N: sleeping

Hana: together, I hope

Hana: ew ew ew

Y/N: shut up

Y/N: are you coming over?

Hana: Sure. Be decent please.

Hana: Don't be gross in front of me.

Y/N: We'll be gross. Don't come - your brother.

Y/N: go away

Hana: oh my god, ew

Hana: disgusting

Hana: 🤢🤮

Y/N: be here for breakfast

Hana: You're mine first. Don't forget.

Y/N: of course

Y/N: love you❤

Hana: love you more ❤

a/n : I haven't done this in a long time and I'm soo happy to be writing again! I have like 9000 things in my drafts rn 😭 Feedback is much appreciated❤

[iftheshoef1tz]

the stars and spaces in between

Summary: Eris Vanserra is on the run from his responsibilities, separated from his traveling party in the unforgiving snows of Svalbard. Things get more complicated from there. For @azrisweek 2024 Day 2: Familiars.

Rating: E

Notes: This is a fusion fic with the series His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman. You do not need to have read that series to understand this fic. I have explained all that needs explaining from that universe in this fic, but basically: every person has a daemon (pronounced demon) that is a physical representation of their souls. As children, daemons can change forms, but when a person reaches puberty, it settles into one form that is supposed to be a clue as to their inner character. Also, this is a prequel to a fic I will be writing soon, so…forgive me. You’ll know why.

Thanks to @yanny-77 and @queercontrarian for their beta reading; to @acourtofladydeath for telling me how long a person can walk with a sprained ankle (I’m sorry i ignored your guidance); and to @secret-third-thing for cheering me on when I realized I put the sex scene in the wrong place. Title is from Many Are the Stars I See, But In My Eye No Star Like Thee by Ursine Vulpine and Annaca.

The brutal sky above him is grey and endless. Lying on his back, winded and trying to ignore the pain in his ankle, Eris Vanserra takes his time memorizing the exact shapelessness of his environment.

In his ear, a sigh that’s more of a hiss.

“Shut up, Gizem,” he says, voice calmer than he feels, but his daemon’s hissing continues anyway.

When he sits up, his fingers are starting to get cold, even through his thick gloves. There is also faint cold radiating up through the seat of his pants.

“You couldn’t have watched your feet while you walked?” Gizem’s disgust is evident, and Eris glares down at his knees.

“If you hadn’t been curled in my hood,” he begins, and the quality of Gizem’s hiss is different this time, slightly guilty.

But in the end, it doesn’t change things: he is at the bottom of a moderately-sized crevasse, isolated by a face of sheet ice from the tiny village he had stopped in two nights ago. This morning, he had left to see a fascinating trail marker favored by the inhabitants of this area without any climbing equipment. He has no food beyond a handful of protein bars stashed in his pockets and a half-empty waterskin.

Read now on ao3.

[taigan-hse]

The new season of Doctor Who is giving me some problems.

To be clear, I’m having fun. But in each episode there’s always something that makes me go “but..wait… how does that work?”

Space Babies

It’s been the longest since I watched this so I’m not positive but did they explain why the babies had developed intelligence while keeping infant bodies? Did they build the strollers and control manipulators or did Nan-E provide those? And the Boogeyman being created because “computers are literal” is what my old math teachers would call a “hand wavy” explanation, one that only work if you don’t look at it too closely.

Devil’s Chord

The fact that the Doctor could just intuit most of the chord to send the Maestro back? I’m not a music person but I don’t get how that works. Also, we’re just kinda assuming the Maestro’s defeat mean that they never existed? Otherwise we’re living in a world with no major music between 1925 and 1963. No Buddy Holly. No Elvis. No Bing Crosby. No Sinatra. No Glen Miller. No Perry Cuomo.

Boom

At first, I had no problem with the mine having all those complicated rules for what would make it go off. But later we learn that, if it can’t make up its mind it defaults to detonate? Then why all the checks? Why not just blow on any contact? It’s not even a matter of economics because we know the mine is reusable. (The one the Doctor stepped on was the same one that blew up the guy in the opening.)

73 yards

This was the first one that actually made me mad. When Ruby’s mother turned against her, I was thinking “ok, so this is an illusion or a manifestation of Ruby’s fears.” But it wasn’t that. Ruby’s mother actually abandoned her and told her she wasn’t wanted by her or by her birth parents. Yes, at the end it’s time paradoxed out of existence but it was her actual mother saying that. Since they never explain the mechanism by which the Follower did that to people, I can’t accept what could do that. And even if it could, what about her grandmother? She never got the whammy put on her. Did she not argue with her daughter about it?

Also, why did Roger ap Gwilliam give up his political career? The Follower causes people to want to avoid Ruby, right? Couldn’t he just… fire her and never see her again?

Dot and Bubble

Why did the AI turn on everyone? I get we all were kinda in agreement they deserved it at the end, but it felt like very lazy writing. “Well, of course, an AI is going to want to kill all humans.” Not to mention, why kill people with genetically engineered giant slugs when everyone already had a Dot and we see that the Dots are quite capable of killing people on their own?

In summary, I get the feeling that each episode had a theme or setting that Davies/Moffat wanted to explore and wrote whatever was needed to do that, whether or not it made any sense. I think the acting has been top tier, it’s just the writing letting the show down.

[simmonsized]

to the anon who asked me abt davebot and dirk I like. started a response and then immediately became unhinged and had to take a breather so I will probably respond somewhere between within 24 hours or like, two weeks lmao sorry

[linzumi]

sokka once he gets the misogyny smacked out of him<3

[themthistles]

i think that while micro labels can seem useful and affirming ultimately they're isolating and kind of an obstacle to your understanding of self. that's because you can never find a word specific enough. there will never be a label or two labels or even ten, twenty of them to perfectly capture and describe all of your thoughts, feelings, experiences, preferences, needs, interests, identities, etc. because you learn more and more about yourself every day and then you change and your wants and needs change with you. having to hop between labels, fearing that you don't 'fit' into a label anymore (both in your own and others eyes), worrying how soon your current label will wear out, questioning if you'll ever fully fit a single one. all that causes a lot of uncertainty and anxiety which could be avoided by just picking a more general thing and molding it according to what it means to YOU. because words will always mean different things to different people, you will never be understood immediately and maybe never completely by anyone but yourself and that's fine

[killjoy-prince]

WHO WAS GONNA TELL ME THIS WAS AN'S TRAINED CARD FOR THE NEW EVENT?????

[aknolan]

Because it apparently is not clear for everyone: I am happy to answer asks, but there is one very simple thing to keep in mind. If you repeatedly bring up something that I do not have an interest in talking about, yes this is about the asks related to "friend" from rwby, it really is best to just drop it. Next person who tries to tell me anything about "friend" or about the post that I did not want to see because it was about "friend" is either getting 1 chance to learn that I do not want to talk about it, or if they already got that chance they're getting blocked. Thanks.

[best-enemies]

Summary: "The Rani never asked the reasons behind the Master's wails; he, himself, detailed the whole story. All she had to do was provide her company, paper tissues, a bottle or ten of alcohol, the blanket and her couch. And, in a few hours, he'd go away on his own. It was like feeding a starving stray dog. Except that, like the dog, the Master always came back."

The events of the Timeless Child revelation changed everything for the Doctor. And for the Master.

I think I've talked about it but never posted my story here! I've had this baby on my draft for years and at first it was a lighthearted comedy/crack. I think you can tell a little by the beginning of the story. But when I finally picked it up again I was going through some rough moments and made it angst/comfort instead. I'm happy with the result! It also became a bit of a character study (or an attempt at it) because I love exploring relationships.

Obviously this is a Thoschei fic but told by the Master's rage and pain. Sort of a hopeful ending? If you can call it hopeful with Thoschei lol.

[fightaers]

also on a more ( perhaps ) controversial note : i really, really, really dislike the over-sex*alisation of s.akura. i, in fact, do not think she's suave [in terms of flirting] or particularly wanton. s.akura has canonically ever liked one (1) man*, and even then, it didn't go well. ( she was rejected multiple times and s.asuke did try to kill her, like twice, while she tried to kill him one time. ) which meant her frame of reference for romance at all sucks ass. she struggles with self-esteem issue ( canonically referenced multiple time when it came to her inferiority complex in team 7 ) and she is a workaholic!! if s.akura ever tried to flirt with anyone, it'll probably be super awkward and she'll probably come across as extreeeemely nerdy and/or work-obsessed!!

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

a darling and a virgin | f. odair

masterlist

summary: you are a victor from district four, having just ended your first victory tour. after being confronted by president snow, you have no choice but to lose your virginity. luckily, your previous mentor is willing to provide some guidance.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: mentions of forced prostitution, angst, gentle smut, loss of virginity, fingering, lots of consent, praise, happy but also unhappy ending??, reader takes contraceptives.

notes: i’ve recently found that i’m incapable of writing short smut one shots so… i’m sorry y’all. love describing every detail too much.

word count: 6.8k

Your hands were clasped over the balcony railing of the penthouse you were spending the night in, the vibrant artificial lights of the Capitol burning your retinas as you overlooked the city. You had finally completed your first Victory Tour and were offered one more night in the Capitol to enjoy its ‘luxury’ and ‘generosity’ before returning to District Four in the morning.

For the past two weeks, you had read fabricated speeches to each District, resurfacing both your trauma from the Games and the families of the tributes you had murdered in the arena. The toll it was taking on you was heavy, but you managed to put on a splitting grin for every interview, speech, and disturbing congratulation. But not for your previous mentor, Finnick Odair.

Finnick had been there for you through the whole nightmare, even during the week before your Games. His support was unwavering which was one of the many reasons you had managed to survive from the moment you were Reaped to the end of the Tour. It was hard to tell when his mentorship had turned into something more complicated, but it had. It had become more about feelings than simply survival. Not a relationship per se, but not just a friendship either. You teetered on the line between the two, never crossing it and never discussing the fact that you were both aware of it either.

For six whole months.

When the final destination of the Tour came—the grand celebration at President Snow’s mansion—Finnick had told you it was the easiest part. All you had to do was manage a happy face, mingle with obnoxious Capitol citizens, and eat an abhorrent amount of food. He would have been right if you were a different person. If President Snow hadn’t demanded your singular presence at the end of the night.

You exhaled a shaky breath, watching the white mist drift into the light-polluted sky. The President’s words bounced around your head: Desirable… Customers... Family. The conversation played on a loop in your mind. You could remember the repugnant smell of roses, the overwhelming whiteness in the room, and the way his too-pleasant face lit up as fireworks exploded outside the window.

Shivers trickled down your spine, forming goosebumps that were borderline painful. The fact that you were on the ninetieth floor and wearing flimsy pyjama shorts and a thin long-sleeve shirt wasn’t helping either. The crisp wind blew against your body, but you had no intentions of moving to seek warmth. It felt appropriate to stay in the cold when your body would soon know nothing but unwelcome heat.

So lost in your spiralling thoughts, you failed to notice as another body silently took up space beside yours, warming up the side of your arm. This heat was welcome.

“Pretty cold out here.”

A startled gasp escaped your mouth. You straightened up and turned to the owner of the voice, only to find Finnick leaning against the railing, forearms over the edge the same as you.

“Sorry.” He chuckled. “I know my presence can be a little breathtaking sometimes. Nice shorts by the way.”

He turned his head turned to you, revealing his infamous flirtatious smirk. The dimples in his cheeks were prominent and charming. His bronze hair was perfectly dishevelled as usual, as if someone had purposefully placed each strand to give him the ‘sexy bed hair’ look. He was still wearing his white button-up and black trousers; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons were undone, revealing his toned chest. The outfit had been accessorised with a metallic golden corset-like belt among other decorations that made him fit in with the Capitol crowd, but he must have taken them off. Now the outfit sort of resembled one that a boy would wear to a Reaping. Simple yet formal. Still gorgeous, not that he needed reminding.

Normally, you would retort with a snarky remark or, on the off occasion, flirt back, but instead, you resumed your previous position over the railings. You weren’t immune to Finnick’s charms; you praised anyone who was. You would usually be internally swooning at the sight of him, especially with the way he looked right now and his obvious flirting. But this night was much different. Flirting and swooning were at the back of your mind. All you could think about was your interaction with the president; the way his guards manhandled and escorted you to his study. The conversation that destroyed your hopes of a peaceful future.

Desirable. One word that sent ice coursing through your veins. Or snow, to be more poetic.

“I don’t think you’ve said a word since we got back,” said Finnick, still a hint of playfulness in his tone. He watched your gaze—eyes distant though not really seeing. It was clear something was wrong, so he continued, this time more softly. “You were gone during the fireworks.”

You remained unmoving, staring straight ahead at the city. Only when he uttered your name did he finally gain your attention. As you turned your head to face him, tears began to well up in your eyes.

Finnick noticed the silent distress in your expression and straightened up his stance. He towered over you, brows knitted together whilst his sea-green eyes flickered across your face, looking as if pieces were slowly falling together in his mind.

“He spoke with you, didn’t he?” he said. “Snow.”

To answer his question for you, a tear escaped your eye, but you were quick to swipe it away with a sniffle.

Your arms wound around your torso, hugging yourself as the words began flowing. “After I won my Games, when I was being crowned, he said something to me that I didn’t really understand." Your voice was gentle, just above a mere whisper. “Months passed and I’d forgotten all about it. Until now at least. He told me…” You swallowed the ache in your throat. “He told me, ‘I have big plans for you, Miss (L/N). I think you will be a very valuable asset to the Capitol citizens.’”

Finnick’s face had melted into an unreadable expression. His entire body turned to stone; it was like he was a marble statue portraying a Greek God. All of a sudden, he was sixteen again. He was in Snow’s study, being told that if he didn’t cooperate and essentially sell himself to the Capitol, his family would pay the price. And they did.

With a sad smile, you whispered, “I know what he meant now.”

Something inside him snapped and he broke from his stupor.

“No.” He vigorously shook his head. “He can’t do that. You can’t. I’ll go to him and—fuck!” His hand ran through his hair, making it even more dishevelled. The bright lights from the city were reflecting off his eyes, revealing the shine that was starting to gloss over them. “I can fix this for you, I swear I’ll—"

“Finnick.”

“He’s a fucking—”

“Finnick.” The plea in your voice ceased his panicked movements. He just stood there, looking completely and utterly helpless. You both did. Another tear slipped down your cheek as you stared at him, your voice wavering as you asked, “Can you hold me?”

He let out a breath as if the air had been knocked from his lungs and in one fell swoop, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms. Silent tears began to flow more heavily, saturating his white shirt which he held you tightly against. There was a hand wrapped protectively around your lower back and another stroking the hair flowing over your neck.

You were certain Finnick let a few tears slip too because you could feel the cold breeze nip at the top of your head the slightest bit more. He mumbled the words “I’m so sorry” over and over into your hair but you just shook your head. You told him it wasn’t his fault, but he wouldn’t accept it. He had told you months ago about his arrangement with Snow. You couldn’t have imagined what it was like for him then, but you would be able to now. You would know every single little detail.

His embrace tightened as you turned your head and pressed your ear to his thumping chest.

The tears had stopped, and you managed to find your voice again. “Snow threatened to kill my family. What if the customers don’t think I’m good enough and he takes it out on them? I mean, I don’t have any experience.”

You remained silent, awaiting his response. When the hand stroking your hair halted, you realised your mistake. You realised what you had just admitted to him and mentally kicked yourself. Repeatedly.

Finnick moved both hands onto your forearms, gently pushing you away from him to get a clear view of your face. The surprise in his expression was enough to make you want to jump over the balcony ledge in embarrassment.

“You’re a virgin?”

Hearing the words out loud would have sent you over the edge—literally—if Finnick’s large hands weren’t wrapped around your arms. You tried to turn away from him, but his grip was unshakeable. Your eyes began to water again, and you felt pathetic.

“Hey,” he said tenderly as he tried to regain your eye contact. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Your distraught red-rimmed eyes snapped back to him. “Not a bad thing? Of course it’s a bad thing, Finnick! I have to give my body to a stranger despite never even having my first kiss! Let alone sex!” As you said the words, the full reality of your situation began to set in. Panic turned to sadness as you realised yet again, the Capitol was taking another innocence you thought was your own to give away. You looked down, your tone becoming quieter. “I thought my first time would be special. Or at least with someone I loved.”

God, you felt so embarrassed admitting that to him. Sure, a lot of your conversations were flirty and full of sensual banter. Sex, however, was not a topic that came up very frequently. You would never want to accidentally cross a line with Finnick, especially given what Snow forced upon him. So you liked to avoid the subject as much as possible. Now, it was inescapable.

He released his grip and sighed heavily, looking out toward the view as if he were deep in thought. The vivid city lights cast an unnatural hue on his usually golden-tanned skin; even now the Capitol was changing him into something he wasn’t. His eyes shut for a quick second before he reopened them and looked back at you. The only time he had looked this serious was the morning of your Games and the night you returned. It was a little intimidating.

His jaw ticked and his gaze bore down into your own. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ask you something,” he began, “and I want you to know you do not have to say ‘yes’ if you don’t want to, okay?”

Alright, now he was really starting to scare you.

“Okay,” you said warily.

The hardness on his face remained for a moment longer, but then his expression softened and became the most vulnerable you had ever seen.

His voice was gentle. “Do you want me to take your virginity?”

*************

You were sat on the edge of Finnick’s bed, toying with the black satin sheets with a frown. Your room didn’t get satin sheets. It was probably one of the benefits of being the Capitol Darling. Not that you envied him very much. He would probably be content with sleeping on a dirt floor if it meant he got his autonomy back.

Finnick was in the bathroom doing God knows what. You weren’t sure if he was trying to make himself more presentable or hyping himself up to have sex with you. The latter worried you. The last thing you wanted was to pressure him into something he didn’t want to do. Then again, he was the one who asked.

After you had told him “Yes, please”, he had tentatively but oh-so-gently taken your hand in his and guided you inside and to his room. Neither of you had spoken along the way; you just walked in silence toward something that would either ruin or deepen your relationship. Despite being two victors, this was still a mentor making sure his tribute stayed alive.

You heard the bathroom door slide open and looked up to see Finnick standing outside the door. Shirtless, pants still on, and towel in hand. It took everything in you to not stare at his perfectly sculptured torso, his equally toned arms, or his broad and muscular shoulders. Instead, your eyes met his for a split second before you returned to the satin sheets.

Blood rushed to your head and everything felt too real. Finnick Odair was standing before you, looking like an angel and willing to fu—

“You’re allowed to look, you know,” he chuckled.

But your gaze remained on the bed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You won’t.’” He spread the towel on the bed, positioning it in the middle. Then he stopped his movements as he realised what you meant. “It’s not like that. I’m not being forced to do this. I want to.”

Your head snapped up and your heart leapt as those three words left his lips—I want to. For a second, you believed him, but then reasoning came to deflate your hopefulness.

“You wouldn’t want to if I weren’t in this situation.”

He let go of the towel, sitting down mere inches beside you, his eyes amused despite the solemn context. “And how do you know that?”

“Because…” you trailed off, searching your brain for an explanation only to find none. “Because.”

He smirked. “We need to work on your argumentative skills, sweetheart.”

A small smile worked its way across your lips. He returned it with a comforting smile of his own, though the sense of playfulness never left. It never really did and that was one of the things you admired most about him. Even in the darkest of situations, he was able to provide some light.

Rosy heat crept into your cheeks and you were forced to break eye contact again. Hiding how much he affected you was pointless now; if this was going to work out, you needed to be vulnerable with him. With each other. You looked down at the space between your bodies. His hand was resting on the bed beside him and soon enough, it was slowly creeping across the sheets over to your own. He gently brushed his fingers across your knuckles before sliding his hand beneath your palm and interlocking it with yours. You couldn’t help but notice how small your hand looked compared to his, feeling butterflies flutter around your stomach at the small observation.

The both of you silently watched your intertwined hands. That is until Finnick decided to speak up.

“I would,” he said ambiguously, caressing the side of your hand with his thumb. “I would still want to. Even in different circumstances.”

The blush on your face reddened even more; your cheeks were on fire at this point. Even in different circumstances. Was that his way of confessing… that he did have feelings for you? It wasn’t exactly explicit, but it was certainly implied. Oh god, you didn’t know what to think.

You didn’t bother to reply; words probably would have failed you anyway. You just gave his hand a slight squeeze in acknowledgement—well, it was more in appreciation. It was obvious how hard he was trying to make you feel comfortable, but no matter how hard he tried, you couldn’t shake the nerves that were rattling your entire being.

Sex was a pretty big milestone—to you, at least—and here you were, on the precipice with someone you trusted with your life. Did you love Finnick? You weren’t sure. What you did know was that your feelings for him were deep, and even though neither of you had ever clearly confessed to each other, you knew he felt something for you too. Which made everything all the more daunting.

“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.

You nodded.

“We still don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head, lifting your gaze to his. “No, I—”

His eyebrows pulled inwards, awaiting your answer. His eyes were so inviting and full of understanding, if you hadn’t lost the ability to form full sentences, you would have found yourself spilling all your secrets to him. He was so patient with you. So good. You had to rethink your uncertainty about loving him.

“I…” you tried again. Your eyes flickered back and forth from his sea-green eyes to his soft, pink lips. As shameful as it felt to admit, you had imagined what it would feel like to have his lips on yours many times before. Usually right before you went to sleep. Never would you have thought the day would come when it would actually happen.

He was still caressing the side of your palm, silently reassuring you, encouraging you to communicate with him. You sighed, closing your eyes. If he wanted you to communicate, then you would.

“Finnick,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”

Your words drifted into the air, stilling everything in the room—the air, Finnick’s hand. Your heart. He just stared at you, unblinking, unmoving, like someone had hit pause on the television at the tensest moment. The tension was tearing you apart and you almost got up and left the room. But you didn’t. Because suddenly, the sides of your face were cupped by large hands and his lips were on yours.

Finnick Odair was kissing you.

His lips pressed against yours once more in one long close-mouthed kiss before leaving again. Shock came and left within seconds and you found the courage to copy his actions. Your lips locked perfectly onto his, remaining still, enjoying the pressure and tingly warmth of simply having them connected. Then your lips moved to kiss him again. And again, and again until soon enough, his tongue had slyly slid into your mouth and you had somehow instantaneously become a master at French kissing.

This kiss felt familiar, despite it being your first. Like something you had done millions of times before, but only with him. Like having his lips on yours was the most natural thing to ever exist.

A hand moved onto your waist and suddenly you were being pulled onto his lap, legs straddling his lap. Your hands fell on his chest, mindlessly wandering and feeling the toned muscles ripple underneath your palms as he pulled you closer by the neck to deepen the kiss. Damn the people of the Capitol, but they were right to say he was an incredible kisser.

“Finn,” you huffed in between kisses, “have you got a rock in your pants?”

He pecked your lips once more with a smirk, resting his forehead against yours as you both attempted to catch your breaths. “No,” he chuckled. “I’ve just got a beautiful girl on my lap.”

Your eyes opened to see him grinning at you with mischief. Oh.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

You nodded jerkily. “Ye—Yes, that’s okay.”

“Okay, good.”

Biting your lip, you looked down between your bodies. Curiously, you rocked your hips along the length of his lap once, earning a quiet grunt from him.

He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Careful,” his voice was low, tempting.

And of course, in full defiance, you did it again. His warning was a bluff. He made no real action to prevent you from grinding any further on his erection, so you kept moving, and he kept revealing how good it made him feel. The thin fabric of your shorts created a little barrier between his hard lap and the growing sensitivity between your thighs.

Meanwhile, you found yourself never wanting to be parted from Finnick’s lips. With every rock of your hips, your hands ran over every inch of his upper body, eventually settling in his hair. The way he kissed reminded you of stories of District Twelve. A district full of hunger and desperation. Only what Finnick was craving wasn’t the fullness of food in his stomach, but the desire to devour you whole. To ravage you. And by God, would you give anything to satiate him.

Forget what you thought before. This wasn’t just a victor keeping his tribute alive. As clear as the sea on a sunny day, this was a man giving himself over to a woman he loved. You. Finnick loved you.

When you pulled back to tentatively lift your shirt over your head, his eyes stayed on yours. Your breasts were literally bare and he just continued to scan the features of your face. However, you did notice the subtle shift in his breathing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking the side of your breast.

A shy, cheek-warming smile crept on your face and then suddenly, Finnick was rolling you over. Your head fell back onto the soft silk pillows, Finnick hovering above you. This position remained for a long while, the time spent simply kissing each other, alternating between deep tongue-filled kisses and soft sweet pecks. There were moments when you both stopped to flirt or giggle. These were the times you entirely forgot the whole reason you were doing this in the first place.

It was just you and Finnick. Two new lovers in a perfect world.

After a while, your lips had swollen with warm, passionate heat. You were flushed and you didn’t even need to look to know your hair was already a tangled mess. But you didn’t care.

One of Finnick’s hands had begun to wander down your stomach, breaking the established pattern of merely making out. You knew what was coming and surprisingly, you weren’t afraid. Unlike outside the penthouse apartment, there was no danger. Not in this room, in this bed, or in the hands that caressed you. He grazed across the skin beneath your belly button, causing your body to flinch up into his.

Of course, he smirked at that—the smug asshole.

He returned to your lips before lowering down to your neck and sucking soft, red marks into your fragile skin. His fingers found the edge of your waistband. At this point, you were already breathing like a marathoner.

His lips detached from your neck. “Can Itouch you?”

“Yes, please,” you breathed.

As he travelled down, down beneath your waistband, he pecked your reddened lips once more. A soft gasp escaped you and warmth tingled between your thighs. His fingers were gentle as he began circling that sweet, sensitive spot only you had ever touched. Having someone else touch you felt so much more different, so much more exquisite. Your body responded to his touch immediately, hips following each movement of his fingers, breaths quickening in pace.

Finnick gazed down at you, observing each pleasured twist of your expression. He began to pick up the pace as he noticed your body familiarising itself with the sensation. More pressure was applied and the gasps leaving your mouth were gradually turning into quiet moans.

“This feel okay?” he asked. Obviously, he knew the answer, but after years of having others take advantage of him, he couldn’t help but want to hear your willingness. Your consent.

But you weren’t sure if the words could form. Everything felt like it was vibrating. All you could do was focus on the pleasure his fingers were building.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me.”

His voice had taken on that seductive purr he was well-known for and you just couldn’t deny him. It took everything inside you to muster up the words. “It—it feels so good.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was so sweet, you could have cried. So sweet even with his hand stroking between your legs and his hard cock pressing against your thigh. Time slowed as his fingers sped up. Muscles in your stomach were tightening. Your insides were churning—not like when you first entered your Games’ arena, but in the best way possible. It was a sensation you had never felt before, but before it could build any more, Finnick’s hand stilled. And you genuinely whined at the loss of friction.

Then his hand moved even lower, resting a singular finger over your slick entrance. Your eyes were wide, unsure of how to feel with the sudden turn of events.

Finnick’s eyes flickered between your own. "You trust me?”

You weren’t sure if an easier question existed. “I do.”

And his lips were on yours again, deep and sensual. His tongue rolled over your own, pushing forward and then retreating in a perfect rhythm. He almost successfully distracted you from the feeling of his middle finger sinking into you knuckle-by-knuckle. Some sort of sound resembling a mix of discomfort and surprise vibrated in your throat as his finger bottomed out.

There wasn’t much pain. It was just an odd feeling.

Your lips parted from his and he looked down at you, his eyes holding an immense amount of security as he communicated through your shared gaze.

Does it hurt?

You gave him a gentle smile. No. Keep touching me.

He returned your smile with a grin. Gladly.

His buried finger curled, shooting a sharp pang up into your stomach which caused your back to arch up against his bare torso. Whether you considered it painful or pleasurable was uncertain. Perhaps a mix of both. He did it again. This time you settled on describing it as a tight twinge in your lower stomach which sent a wave of chills down your legs. Definitely pleasurable. Only, he stopped indulging you with the sensation after the second time.

Instead, you felt another finger slowly slip inside you and whimpered. Now that hurt. You felt your inner walls stretch with the second addition and it stung. Especially when he began to scissor his fingers inside you. This was him preparing you for the real deal. How you were supposed to have Finnick inside you when just his fingers had you stuffed was incomprehensible. But you allowed him to keep going, trying to enjoy the comforting kisses he pampered onto you.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he said.

Your hands moved to push back his messy bronze hair as he hovered above you. His dimples deepened with a grin and you swore you would endure any pain to keep them etched on his face. After he deemed you stretched out enough, he slowly rose to his knees, unbuttoning his trousers and throwing them aside. You couldn’t do anything but stare. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

The way you gulped was almost cartoonish. How the hell was he supposed to fit? You had never seen a man naked before—you weren’t even sure Finnick was human. He had a body sculptured by the Gods, a face carved by angels, and a… well, let’s just say he didn’t disappoint in any other areas. You weren’t sure if the smug look on his face was real or a carefully curated mask created for his Capitol customers. By the way it quickly washed away, you could tell it was the latter.

He began sliding your shorts down your legs, tossing them to the floor. Suddenly, you felt extremely vulnerable. Almost inferior. Your knees fell together, concealing the most private part of yourself from him. You avoided his gaze, cheeks becoming red and hot as he observed your naked frame. He had a way of looking at you as if you were a long-forgotten masterpiece, rediscovered from centuries of being lost. No one had looked at you like that before him.

Gently, he pried apart your legs and you didn’t bother trying to resist. Only when he descended and settled between your legs did the insecurity dwindle into the background of your mind. Your naked bodies were hot against each other. His weight pinned you against the bed. Everything that was yours touched all that was his. You thought this experience would feel like a dream, but it all felt so real. You were nervous, you were trembling, and your breaths were shaky.

Finnick was quick to recognise the nervousness radiating off you. His arm curled beneath you, somehow pulling you even closer, meanwhile, his other arm rested beside your head. He brushed strands of hair away from your face, soothing you with his tender touch.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

You nodded. You wanted this—wanted Finnick. It was just the anticipation that was killing you. Your thighs squeezed his sides to tell him you were ready. For a few moments longer, he restarted the pattern of sweet kisses, rolling tongues, and the warmth of blood rushing to your head. His hand was caressing your cheek; yours were splayed on his back, gliding over the rippled muscles.

Then finally, he shifted, his hand moving south to align himself with your entrance. All you could do was watch his focused expression. This was the moment. The threshold of your relationship would be ­­crossed as soon as he pushed forward. There was no one else you wanted to share the experience with because you knew this wasn’t just sex. Not for him or for you; it was more than that. Something bordering spiritual, breaking the bounds of physical pleasure and entering into a deep emotional connection. Something no paying customer of the Capitol could provide.

He was gazing down at you, half-cradling your head as he began to say, “Are you su—" But before he could finish, you had pressed your lips to his, answering his question. You were sure. He nodded in response.

His eyes were hesitant he began to push his tip between your folds. Your fingers dug into his back, more from anxiety than anything else. It became a game of stopping and starting as he moved deeper inside inch-by-inch, allowing your walls time to adjust around him. Never had you seen someone’s face filled with so many emotions—concentration, controlled gratification, affection. So many feelings twisted his expression. Meanwhile, yours held only one. Discomfort. He was so big; you felt like you were being split apart and he wasn’t even fully inside yet.

Finally, when his pelvis connected with yours, you exhaled a heavy breath. It hurt. Bad. Finnick had the right idea to lay down a towel because you definitely needed it. He had you filled to the brim, stretched out and stuffed. Even the slightest shift in his position had your hands flying to his shoulders in pain.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes, just—” You bit your lip in an attempt to suppress a whimper. “Just go slow.”

He nodded. You smiled. Then for some odd reason, you laughed. And then so did he. Finnick’s face fell into the crook of your neck, muffling his boyish laughs into your skin. The added movements had your insides dully aching, but you didn’t pay it much attention. The moment was so innocently intimate that you wanted to stay in it forever. He lifted his head to press his grinning lips to yours and the laughter began to dissipate. Your mouths moved slowly together, full of heat and fervent emotion, and suddenly, Finnick’s body began to move too.

Careful as not to harm you, he slid himself backward in one slow motion and then pushed forward again in another. Pain stung at your inner walls and your lips left his as a gasp escaped your mouth. You were tempted to close your eyes whilst riding out the discomfort but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Finnick’s face. He was so mesmerizingly beautiful.

His cheeks were a baby pink. Lips were a rosy red. There was a thin sheen covering his forehead, slightly wrinkled by his furrowed brows. Those messy bronze locks you adored so much fell in strands across his forehead. The evident concentration and care on his face just made him look all the more picturesque.

While you admired his features, you started to notice the pain accompanying his slow thrusts was becoming more tolerable. There was still a sting, but also a dull twinge in your stomach that had you biting your bottom lip. It felt sort of… nice. And you wanted to experiment with that feeling.

Your hands were hooked around his shoulders. “Faster.”

Are you sure? His lustful eyes spoke.

You pulled him back down to your mouth. Absolutely.

And so, his hips started to rock back and forth at a faster pace. You could feel yourself clench around his cock from the change of rhythm but forced yourself to relax. He thrust in and out, rubbing against the ripples of your walls, tip brushing at a spot inside you that was anything but pain. That is what you focused on—that one sweet spot.

Time went on and he gradually increased his speed. Your lips were swollen and red, no doubt from the way he would nip and suck on your bottom lip in between each flick of his tongue. His breaths were coming out louder, heavier, as were your own. Soon enough, you were in a rhythm that was both pleasurable for him and for you. The pain lingered but it was no longer unbearable. A shudder ran down your body and your pussy fluttered around him. Finnick broke away from your lips with a breathy groan that you swore you could feel in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

His thrusts became a little faster, a little more painful. A hand slipped down between your bodies and the pain faded quicker than it came. He was rubbing circles around your clit, occasionally running his fingers across it which caused you to lurch upward. All of a sudden, you came to the realisation that everything bad that had been clouding your mind had disappeared. The ache, the confrontation with Snow. Everything. The only thing you could focus on was the pleasure slowly building between your thighs and in your stomach. And Finnick. His tantalising eyes. His wicked mouth. His throbbing cock.

People always said your first time would be horrible; this was anything but. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you… loved him? Yeah, you loved him. Also because he was something of an expert at sex. You were in a pretty unlucky predicament but having Finnick willingly fucking you was a blessing.

His fingers were relentless, applying the perfect amount of pleasure that had you writhing beneath him. And added with the sensation of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you, your uneven breaths turned into soft moans. He fucked, he rubbed, he nipped and sucked at the delicate skin of your neck. Heat was enveloping your entire body.

“Finnick,” you moaned.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His voice was strained and hoarse.

His hand left your clit, hooking around your thigh, and curling it around his back so he could thrust even deeper. He restarted his rhythm of rubbing circles, but his thrusts felt different. Instead of just brushing that sensitiveness deep inside you, he was mercilessly hitting it. Over and over. Your moans were louder now; Finnick was more vocal too, grunting and occasionally uttering words of praise.

This went on for a while. His stamina was incredible—if you had a moment to think, you would have realised the depressing reasoning behind it. But you couldn’t think at all. Your heel was digging into his back; nails scratching at his skin. Both of you had a layer of sweat covering your bodies, skin wet, slapping and sliding over one another. Your pheromones had filled the room with the smell of sex, driving your need to finish.

Finnick’s mouth had been everywhere at this point. Your lips, your neck, shoulders, and breasts. Everywhere except your pussy, not that it really mattered anymore.

It was hard for you to comprehend how fucking amazing the sensations you felt were. There was heat and pressure pooling in your stomach, increasing at a slow pace, and growing more powerful by the minute. Finnick’s hips moved at a steady pace, but his hand had begun to slow. Even he had to succumb to fatigue at some point. He sounded like he had run for miles though was obviously pushing himself on for your benefit.

Instead of ceasing his tiring hand movements entirely, he switched hands. And that was when the heat in your stomach turned into a blazing inferno. He was much faster now. Applied more pressure. Your head fell back against the pillow with a cry. His cock was throbbing inside you at the sound.

“That feel good? Huh?” he practically moaned.

He left kisses across the stretch of your neck, running his tongue over the skin and leaving behind red marks.

“Yes!” you cried out.

Your entire body felt like it was being dipped into a white-hot flame of pleasure and the feeling was only increasing. It was clear Finnick felt the same way. His thrusts were becoming more frantic, he was cursing left and right, and he was practically pulsing inside you.

The heat in your stomach was overwhelming but you needed more.

“Finnick, I feel—I feel—” You couldn’t describe even it.

Finnick nodded, breathing heavily above you. God, he looked gorgeous. “You’re gonna come.”

Your half-lidded needy eyes met his. Something about him saying those words sent a wave of acceleration through your body. You hadn’t known what the edge was until you were on the brink of coming, and there was no stopping it. His cock plunged in and out, pushing deep inside you, practically rocketing your orgasm to the surface with each thrust. His fingers moved at such an intense pace you didn’t even know was physically possible.

As your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth fell open and every frantic breath, moan, and cry was able to escape. Finnick had the same problem. Fuck, he sounded so sexy, it only spurred you on.

Then it hit you all at once. “Fu—"

Every inch of your body tensed. You were sent into a space where white noise filled your hearing and bliss was all you knew. No pain. No sadness. Just ecstasy. Electric sparks jolted up and down your body, rising to your head, and causing you to see stars behind your closed eyes. Your moans were uncontrollable and desperate, voicing Finnick’s name over and over.

His thrusts were frenzied and sloppy, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. He had lifted your lower back into an arch, enhancing the sensation coursing through your body. Your walls were clenching and pulsing around him, so much that he was abruptly thrown into his own high. His hips stuttered and eventually, his cock filled you as deep as he could, spurting out warm strings of white that coated your inner walls.

He collapsed on top of you, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your fingers wound into his hair, clinging to him as the aftershocks of your orgasm ravaged your body. Legs trembling and mouth panting, you lay there allowing yourself to regain your breath and ability to move.

After pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, Finnick slid off you, falling onto the bed beside you. Hopefully the towel was enough to save the silk sheets.

Now that you were resting, exhaustion had the chance to cloud your mind. You weren’t sure what the customs were after sex—whether you made conversation or simply went to sleep. The latter sounded pretty good though. A warm hand slipped beneath your back, turning your body sideways and pulling you so you were half strewn across Finnick’s chest and legs. You made no effort to resist.

Eyes closed, you listened to the heart beating inside his ribs. Thrumming intensely though starting to return to a normal rate.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a murmur, sounding utterly drained.

His thumb drew gentle patterns on the skin of your waist.

You nodded against his chest, remaining silent. After a little while you finally decided to speak. “I’m glad it was you.” And then after a few more moments of silence, you added, “I wish it was just you.”

You felt him press his lips to the top of your head. A long and emotional kiss. The whole reasoning behind losing your virginity returned to mind. It felt heavy, weighing down the atmosphere in the room. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, what was coming was inevitable. You wouldn’t get to stay with Finnick in this bed. You wouldn’t get to belong to him, or he you. You both belonged to the Capitol. To Snow. No matter how much you wished to belong to each other.

He whispered, “Me too.”