#when I start talking I go on too long especially about mental things and I end up feeling ashamed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

btsvt-bar · 6 months

Text

hurts so good

pairing ꩜ mean husband!mingyu x afab!reader

content/genre ꩜ haters to lovers, ceo/mean husband mingyu, smut (18+ mdni)

author's note ꩜ not proofread . comments are appreciated!

warnings under the cut!

warnings ꩜ smut, fingering, masturbation (m. receiving), alcohol consumption, angry sex, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, creampie, light degrading, dom-ish mingyu, dirty talk, spanking (he slaps her ass like 4 times), begging.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

You and Mingyu first met when you were kids. Coming from rich families, you went to the same private school. And to be honest, you really hated him back then.

When you were teenagers, Mingyu was really popular. He was good-looking and smart, being one of the top students of the school. All the girls had a crush on him, even if he was mean to them.

He had always been self absorbed and rude to everyone. Especially to you, and you had no clue why.

You were the quiet, nerdy type. You kept it to yourself, being too focused on your grades and on getting into a good university. Plus, you were basically the only one who didn’t think he was hot shit — but, of course, you’d never say it out loud.

Both of you got into Business School, so you never really got rid of him. His annoying personality only got worse, making you his personal laughing stock.

It worsened when your families merged companies. Coming from the food and beverage industry, and being good friends, it felt natural to merge companies and create an empire bigger than it was before. And, of course, that union had to be sealed with the marriage of the heirs.

When your parents told you, you had a nervous breakdown. They didn’t understand why, labeling you as dramatic. Of course they wouldn’t get it, Mingyu posed as polite and respectful in front of them. But you knew better.

That’s how you ended up getting married to the man you despised. Needless to say, it was the worst day of your life.

Now, three years later, you’re still trapped in a marriage that feels more like a prison. You sleep in separate rooms and on the daily basis, you and Mingyu never really talk, unless it’s a work matter.

Also, you have a terrible sex life. You can count on a hand the amount of times the two of you did it. Yes, you are physically attracted to Mingyu. He has great abs and a big dick, plus delicious big arms and a toned chest. The few times you fucked, you were both tipsy and had had a fight before going out to some company party. It was always angry sex, and you never talked about it the morning after.

With your 4th anniversary approaching, people started asking when are you going to have kids. You dreaded this moment, but it seemed like you couldn’t scape it anymore. It got you thinking about your “marriage”, about how you wished things would change and how you wished Mingyu was a good husband.

As you do your makeup for the company dinner you have tonight, you try to be mentally prepared to be questioned, once again, about your pregnancy plans.

"Hurry up, we’re going to be late" Mingyu says outside your room. You finish putting on lipstick and grab your purse.

You find him waiting on the couch, looking really handsome in his all black tuxedo. His eyes scan you head to toe. His face remains emotionless, but you notice his eyes lingering a bit too long on your wine colored lips and modest cleavage.

"Let’s go."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

The music is a bit loud, so you have to stay all the way across the room to chat properly with other people.

You are stuck talking to Mingyu’s friends’ wives. It’s not that you don’t like them, because you do, but the topic of the conversation is not something you want to discuss.

"Cheollie’s been so good to me since I told him I’m pregnant" Gwen says while smiling fondly at her husband, who's across the room. "I mean, he’s always been sweet, but now he’s so much more protective and loving…"

"Wonwoo was like that too" Claire comments. "And he’s just the perfect father. Always wanting to help me out. And he won’t admit, but he loves to prepare Yeji’s lunchbox." The other women coo, finding it adorable. But you feel your face twist into a sad expression.

You knew all of them were in an arranged marriage just like yours. How on earth you were the only one who got unlucky?

"What about you and Mingyu?" Mona, Jeonghan’s wife, asks you. "Are you planning to get pregnant soon?"

You take a sip of your gin and tonic, trying to come up with an answer. They all look at you expectantly, and you don’t have the guts to let them down.

"Oh, definitely! We’re trying" you lie. The other women cheer excitedly.

"You’re gonna have the cutest babies!" Claire says.

"Oh that’s for sure. And y/n will be the prettiest mamma ever!" Gwen gushes.

You start to feel bad about lying, so you finish your drink and walk away to grab another.

As you wait, you see Mingyu chatting and laughing with his friends. And it makes you kinda mad that he’s having fun, and you’re not. When you look back at where the other wives are, you see them caressing Gwen’s pregnant belly and you decide you’ve had enough. You walk over to Mingyu, his smile fading the second he spots you.

"What?" he asks in a harsh tone, left eyebrow raising.

"I wanna go home, I’m not feeling well" you say the first excuse that comes to mind.

"Are you for real?" Mingyu seems so annoyed. Seungcheol nudges him, letting out a quiet ‘bro’. Mingyu sighs. "Ok, whatever."

The ride home is tense. Mingyu was holding back so he wouldn’t make a scene in front of the driver, but as soon as you’re alone in your living room, he couldn’t hold his tongue anymore.

"Why do you always have to ruin the night? Honestly, Y/N, you’re so fucking annoying!" he spits out.

You roll your eyes, deciding not to take shit from him. "I was bored and wanted to come home. You could’ve stayed."

"No, I couldn’t. That would make me look bad."

Usually, you wouldn’t say what you wanted. You’d just ignore and go to your room. But today, after a few drinks, and having to hear for hours on end about how your friends’ husbands were amazing, you felt fed up with Mingyu’s bullshit.

"Maybe you should worry more about being a good husband than about faking it." you point out while taking off your heels.

"Excuse me?" his nostrils flare, signaling how angry he was.

You just shrug, not giving a fuck if he was mad. "It is what it is, Mingyu. You don’t even try to be nice to me, but you worry so damn much about how you’re perceived by others." By now, your purse was thrown on the nearest chair and you’re shouting at him. "I’m done trying to be nice, and I think we reached a point where we should get a divorce and move on. Our marriage is a sham and I’m so fucking done with you."

The man chuckles as his tongue pokes his inner cheek. He looks really annoyed. Mingyu sighs and empties his pockets, putting his stuff in a bowl on the small wooden counter.

You feel livid and his lack of response keeps your mouth running. "What’s so funny?"

"Nothing, just the fact that you think that this shitty situation is all on me." He rises his eyebrows. "Get over yourself, Y/N. None of us is willing to take the first step, that’s why our marriage is a shit show." Mingyu turns around and heads out to his room, but the next thing you say stops him dead in his tracks.

"Why aren't you willing to take the first step? What have I done that is so bad that you can't even be my friend?" A few tears escaped your eyes, but you were quick to wipe them away. "Does hurting me make you feel good or something?"

He had to give it to you. You are being really brave, questioning him and talking back.

The small bar cart catches his eyes and he decides that if you're finally having that conversation — one you should've had years ago —, he needs a drink to get through it. The room is filled with the sound of whiskey being poured. Mingyu takes a long sip, almost downing down the whole liquid, and refills his cup.

If he were to be completely honest, he would say he didn't even know why he hated you. He just did. Nowadays, he didn't mind your presence for the most part. However, when you hit his nerves, he wanted you gone. "Hating you is as natural as breathing for me. It's always been like this, why change it?"

"So we can, at least, coexist in peace? Have some fun, even? I'm not asking you to be husband of the year, but could try to be an ok one." You say with a tired tone, the whole situation already taking it's toll on you. Copying his actions, you poured some of the amber liquid for yourself. "You can get some tips from your friends. They're nice to their wives."

Mingyu snorts. "Yeah sure, if you're going to learn from your friends how to be a good wife…"

"I'm willing to try, Mingyu. But I'm not doing this on my own."

You both calmed down quickly, the heated beginning reduced to a low toned conversation. You’re impressed with how well things are going, considering the two of you usually shout and exchange offenses until someone walks away.

"We can try." His voice is quiet. Mingyu's staring at you, his eyes filled with undertones you don't comprehend yet. His moist lips are caught between his teeth. Shaking his head, he places the empty cup on the cart. "This is funny, you know."

"What?"

You can see he's conflicted between saying what's on his mind and keeping his mouth shut. "You can tell me, since we're being honest." You encourage him.

He looks you deeply in the eyes and says "We just called a truce like two minutes ago and now my mind keeps whispering that if we were a real couple, this would be the moment to kiss and make up."

Your mouth gapes in shock. The few times you had sex before, you hadn’t kissed. Mingyu would fuck you from behind, fast, hard and with a lot of pent up anger. And that was it. So you were caught off guard by his words. Seeing your expression, Mingyu quickly added: "The alcohol got to my head, pretend I never said anything."

Before he can try to leave again, you grab his bicep. "I hate to admit it, but you kind of have a point…"

Both of you start to feel this weird heat spreading under your skins. You sigh deeply. It’s weird you know precisely what’s underneath those black clothes. Mainly because you feel like you’re going to have sex him with for the first time.

"Want me to fuck you senseless until we spend all our anger and then we can start over?" He offers with a crooked smile you never saw before.

You feel slick pooling in your panties, your body already reacting to his filthy mouth. This flirty, sexy side of Mingyu is new to you, but you’re already loving it.

"Are you for real?"

Mingyu towers over you, making you step back until you reach the nearest wall. "Do I look like I'm messing around? Do I look like I won't fuck you until we both forget we hated each other in the first place?"

His serious eyes and deep voice make you sigh and bite your lower lip, fully invested in him. He reaches out and caresses your cheek before pulling you in for a kiss.

You both moan at the contact. His tongue dominates yours in a second, imposing a fast rhythm. Your core twists, tingling in a way that nearly hurts. Mingyu grunts when you close your arms around his neck and pulls gently at his hair.

The room temperature rises, leaving you both hot and bothered when you break the kiss. "Go to your room." Mingyu instructs and you comply. The walk is torturous, with shaky legs and your skimpy lacy panties sticking to your folds.

You’re shaking a little when you sit down on your bed. The night went from 0 to a 100 in minutes and you honestly don’t even want to think much about it for now.

"Can I come in?" Mingyu asks on the other side of the door, knocking lightly on the wood.

"Yeah, sure."

Mingyu took off his blazer and necktie, and the first buttons of his shirt are open, revealing his toned chest. Once again, you evaluate his beefy body proportions and purr quietly. Gosh, he’s hot!you think.

The hunky man looks around, analyzing the stuff you have in your room. You realize it’s the first time he enters it. "Do you want to keep going?"

Your eyes meet his and, for the first time ever, you see he’s actually worried about you. You limit yourself to nodding. "I’m gonna need you to say it, Y/N."

"Yes. Please get over here." You plea. Mingyu groans and crosses the room. His pants feel tight and uncomfortable, his cock pulsating with each step.

He gets on top of you, bunching your dress up on your waist. "Fuck…" he hisses when he sees your panties. You feel him caressing your clit over the lace and hold back a moan.

Mingyu moves the fabric to the side, easily sliding his fingers through your dripping cunt. "So fucking wet and I barely touched you. Do you get off on fighting with me?"

Your face grows hot, but you’re not sure if it’s because of his words or actions. He teases your hole, prodding a finger in your entrance. All air leaves your lungs. You let out a whimper, which makes Mingyu chuckle.

"So responsive." He removes his hand, his eyes searching for yours again. "If I knew you’re such a horny slut, I would’ve done this a long time ago."

"Shut up." You sass, your heart pounding in your chest. "Just shut up and actually do something."

"You better watch your fucking mouth." He manhandles you until you’re laying on your stomach. He moves you on his lap and uncovers your ass.

To your surprise, he slaps your right butt cheek. You yelp, feeling your blood pumping quickly through your body. He repeats his action, this time with more intensity.

"Cat got your tongue?" He mocks when you stay silent. Truth is, you’re clamping your lips together so you don’t moan. "You’re soaking through your panties… Is spanking one of your kinks?"

Mingyu gives you another sharp slap, but this time he massages your flash to soften the blow.

"One more." Your voice sounds croaky as you speak.

"As you wish." He complies to your request, giving you the sharpest spank so far. You whimper and Mingyu smiles, pleased with himself.

Taking advantage of your position, he slides your panties off and pulls down the zipper of your dress. With his help, you undress.

You’re laying naked on his lap and just the sight of your bare back and red ass makes the blood in Mingyu’s body flow directly to his cock. He sighs and separate your legs just enough to touch your naked pussy again.

"Mingyu please." You cry out loud, needing him to slip his fingers in your hole.

"Please what?" He plays dumb and you feel the smirk on his voice. "I don’t know what you want, you’re gonna have to say it."

You sob in frustration. "Did you really think I was going to make things easy for you?" Mingyu’s hand ghosts over your body, giving you goosebumps from the heat he irradiates. "I hate you, remember?"

This is absolute torture. Your body is boiling with desire and need, you skin nearly burning up. Mingyu traces your tights, his soft touch giving you goosebumps. "Finger me. Please, I really need it. Please please please." You beg and Mingyu chuckles again, amuzed by your desperate tone.

He parts your legs a bit as his big hands trail the path from the back of your tights to your folds. You feel one of his fingers tease your dripping hole and you clench around nothing.

You’re so wet that his two fingers slide easily into you. Your inner walls clamp down on his digits and he groans. "You’re so tight, Y/N. Can’t wait to feel you on my dick again."

Mingyu begins to finger fuck you with a lazy pace, pulling out completely just to push back in at once. Your head feels cottony, like your brain weights nothing. Out of instinct, you bite your own hand to keep your moans from falling off your lips. Your hips move with a mind of its own, pushing back to meet Mingyu’s movements. Soon enough he hits that gummy spot inside you that makes you shiver. He notices you’re close to your climax, so, out of spite, he stops his stimulation.

"Why?" you cry out, tears accumulating in your eyes. "I was so close!"

"Because it’s fun" he laughs while stroking your ass tenderly. "Be good, lay down and spread your legs for me so I can make you cum."

Your limbs feel like jelly when you scramble around to get on your back. Mingyu gets up and pushes his dress pants down along with his black boxers. His cock stand hard and proud, the red tip glossed with pre cum. You muster the strength to get on your knees and approach him, your hands grabbing his shirt to start unbuttoning it.

You work your way up his body, taking each button out of its house. When you take the last one out, your caress his big chest, feeling his strong muscles under your sweaty palms. You smooth your way up to his shoulders and push his shirt down. He’s finally naked in front of you, in all his glory.

You trail his arms and abs, all the way down to his rock hard cock. When you wrap your hands around him, Mingyu lets out a sigh of relief. You stroke him slowly while savoring his low, deep grunts in your ear. Soon enough, you quicken your pace. Meanwhile, all you can think about is his cock splitting you open and you feel yourself getting wetter.

"Tha-that’s enough." He reaches for your wrist to stop you after a couple minutes.

Surprisingly, he pulls you in for another kiss. This time, it’s a slow, passionate one. Without separating your lips, he leads you to lay down again. The new position makes Mingyu’s hips align with yours, and you start rutting each other like animals on heat.

"Seeing you between my legs is so hot." you confess when you part the kiss to breathe. "But it could be better."

"Yeah? How so?" Mingyu pokes his cheek with his tongue, his confidence unwavering.

You bite your lower lips for a second. "You’ll look hotter inside me, dear husband."

His smile falters, his eyes turning darker and darker with desire. You know you said just the right thing to spur him on.

"I’d hold onto something if I were you."

You decide to ground yourself by hugging him. Without hesitation, Mingyu pushes in in one quick, firm trust. He’s swallowed in by your warm, soft walls. You see when his eyes roll back in pleasure, and his reaction boosts your confidence through the roof. On the other hand, his big cock splitting you open twists and tightens the knot on your core even more. You know it won’t require much effort for you to cum.

"Please move" you whim and kiss his lips softly. "I need you to move."

Mingyu gives in and imposes a fast, rough pace. You sink your nails on his back, trying to keep yourself from moving too much. He slides in and out of you deliciously, reaching all the right places. You moan loudly on his ear, and he huffs and puffs on yours. The loud sounds of skin slapping, added with the wet noises coming from your wetness, teleport both of you to a world of your own. A world where the only thing that matters is Mingyu’s rough thrusts and the way your insides mold perfectly to accommodate his dick.

After what it feels like forever, Mingyu folds your legs to your chest, and the position makes him reach new places inside of you. It’s when he starts rubbing circles on your clit that you feel on the verge of frenzy. "I’m almost there." You announce.

His hips redouble efforts, and within a few seconds, and a chant of "cum for me, dear wife" your mind turns blank and your soul is lifted off of your body.

You nearly pass out, all the stimulation being too much for you. Seeing you so blissed out pushes Mingyu over the edge before he has the chance to pull out. He grunts as he covers your walls with his warm milk. Your arms fall limp on his back, and Mingyu’s strength also falters, making him drop his weight on top of you.

He rubs his nose on your neck in an affectionate gesture. You smooth your hands on his back in a retributive way. The two of you stay silent for a while, enjoying the proximity and giving yourselves time to come back down.

When Mingyu slips out of you, a stream of white floods out of your messed up hole.

"Fuck, I should’ve pulled out." Mingyu searches for your eyes, his brown orbs filled with worry. You smile softly at him.

"It’s ok, I don’t mind." You reassure him. "Just help me clean up, yeah?"

Mingyu gets up immediately and enters your en suite. He comes back a minute later with a wet cloth in hand.

"You ok?" He asks while cautiously rubbing it against your sensitive cunt.

"I’ll probably limp tomorrow, but I guess that’s the downside of fucking your hater, right?" You joke and he chuckles while shaking his head.

"Well, I guess we’re sort of friends now."

"Yes, definitely." You agree.

He discards the towel and lays back next to you. You’re under the sheets now, and your body feels completely spent. "You’re not going to sleep, are you?"

You nod, feeling your heavy lids take the best of you. "I sure am."

Mingyu gets on top of you again, and hold your chin to make you look at him. "I’ll give you 30 minutes to recover, dear wife." The stupid nickname rolls out of his tongue with an almost tender laugh.

"I thought you were fucking me until we spent all of our anger." you state, struggling to keep your eyes open. "I don’t feel angry anymore."

"I do." His eyes hold mysteries you’re yet to discover. "I’m not done hating you yet."

His low deep voice stirs your insides. You sigh, feeling your heartbeat increase again. "30 minutes and you can hate me all you want."

"Deal." He presses a kiss to your lips and goes back to the empty side of the bed.

You feel him scrambling around looking for the TV remote control. As you let your tiredness get the best of you, all you can think about is that you’re going to fight with everything that you have to make things work out between the two of you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

m.list ♡

read the sequel: down bad

#mingyu smut #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #mingyu x reader #mingyu hard hours #seventeen hard hours #seventeen scenarios #anon request #my works

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lost-and-ephemeral · 7 months

Note

Could you please do LDS boys +

Caleb reacting to reader being injured/severely injured?<3

HCs: You're Injured (ft. main trio + Caleb)

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader, Caleb x reader (seperate)

Tags: hurt/comfort, reader is injured but won't die

A/N: Thanks for your request! First time writing for Caleb, yay. Sorry if it isn't good enough, I'm not feeling so good since morning.

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´-

Caleb

"Hold on, pip-squeak, I'm right here."

Your exhausted body, covered in wounds from the battle with Wanderer, was ready to collapse to the ground if Caleb hadn't caught you in time.

He knew how dangerous your job was, but that didn't make him any less worried.

You protected him but got hurt in the process.

He's frustrated and angry because there's no way he could've protected you in that situation.

And Caleb just hates this feeling, but trying to stay calm for your sake. His emotions could only make everything worse.

"Sometimes even big girls need someone else's help. Right? And I'm here for you."

Concern was written all over his face, he couldn't hide it even if he really tried. The last thing he wanted was to see you hurt, especially like this.

He was supposed to be your main protector back then. But now things have changed.

You had really grown a lot, not just physically, but mentally too.

It was just hard to accept you're no longer a little girl.

Yes, you are strong and mature. But Caleb kept holding you like you were the most fragile being in the world.

He will give you first aid as quickly as he can, while calling an ambulance. Caleb is not the kind of person who would risk your life trying to handle this situation on his own.

Definitely going to the hospital with you while holding your hand and talking to you. He'll be around as long as it takes.

Probably will fall asleep on the chair near your hospital bed.

No doubt he'll continue to look after you like he did when you both were younger.

Rafayel

"No, no, no. Don't even think about leaving me like this!"

Maybe sometimes Rafayel was overly dramatic, but he's actually afraid of losing you again.

When he saw that you were injured after not-so-pleasant encounter with Wanderers, his facade of self-confidence instantly cracked.

Rafayel started panicking and it was clear from the look on his face as he crouched beside you, seeing how you trying to cover the wound by your bloody hands.

Not again. No.

All these years he had to watch you die over and over again, losing all memories of him.

Rafayel instantly began to examine your wounds, holding you close. He didn't care if his perfectly white shirt will be covered in blood as well.

He needed to be sure you won't die this time.

And his playful attitude is gone completely.

"Don't you dare to die on me, you hear? I won't forgive you. Ever. Promise me. Promise me you won't die."

He tried to remain calm and ignore the suffocating feeling of anxiety that has been slowly rising in his chest. But he couldn't.

Will do everything to stop the bleeding while help is on it's way. You can feel his hands trembling.

He'd better die for you himself, not vice versa.

I swear, this man is gonna get the whole hospital on alert. Nurses and doctors can be mad at him as much as they want. It doesn't matter to him.

Rafayel won't rest and eat properly until you get better. He just physically can't.

"Don't scare me like this ever again, please."

Xavier

"I failed you."

You accidentaly got injured during your mission. And poor Xavier decided it was totally his fault.

You both found yourself surrounded by enemies and before he could even react, one of them attacked you, leaving a deep wound on your side.

Needless to say, in the next couple of seconds all Wanderers were completely destroyed, and Xavier was fully focused on you.

This isn't the first time you've been injured during a mission. But each time Xavier is as worried as always.

Especially when your injuries are so severe.

Will administer first aid on the spot, even the bare minimum, before carrying you to safety.

With Wanderers around, it's not going to be easy to get you out of this dangerous zone. So Xavier needs to stabilize you a little at first.

"I won't let you get hurt again. I promise."

He is already experienced in these situations, so he's able to keep his emotions under control. But that doesn't mean that deep inside he isn't worried sick about you.

Will be looking for anything to treat your wound and avoid infection.

Guilt will slowly eat him up from the inside no matter what. He had to protect you, but he failed to do so.

Even if you assure him it's just an accident, Xavier just shakes his head in response.

As soon as you can get out, he'll take you to the hospital. It is unlikely that his skills will be enough to make your wound heal properly.

Better safe than sorry.

He still has a lot of work to do, but he'll come to you whenever he has a spare minute.

Will probably act like a guilty puppy for a long time.

Zayne

"You're constantly putting yourself in danger."

Zayne has a hard time showing his feelings openly, especially when it comes to you, so it's no surprise that his display of concern felt like he was scolding you.

But in reality he's really, really worried about you every time.

He knew right away that you were in the hospital after another accident.

And as soon as Zayne had some time off between surgeries, he came to you.

Looking at you in the hospital bed, he felt his heart ache.

While he was desperately searching for a cure for your heart, you kept getting hurt again and again.

Even when you smiled, like if trying to reassure him everything's fine, Zayne only sighed and shook his head. You have no idea how hard it was to see you hurt and vulnerable like this.

He's already been informed of the severity of your wounds and how much blood you've lost.

And he could've lost you.

But Zayne can't let his emotions take over. There are still a few more difficult surgeries ahead where he cannot afford to make a mistake.

And if he starts panicking right in front of you, it's not going to speed up the healing process.

"I'd be happy if you took a more responsible approach to your health. Then I wouldn't have to be so worried."

He moved his chair closer to your bed and sat in silence for a while, squeezing your hand.

Zayne will stay around as long as his job lets him.

Don't be surprised to find candies or plushies you wanted on your nightstand.

You can ask him about these little gifts.

And watch carefully as a faint smile appears on his lips.

"Usually only children get so excited about toys. So it turns out you're not that far from being a child?"

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader

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dcxdpdabbles · 20 days

Note

Do you mind updating Alfred's boy? I just fell in love with your work and can't stop thinking about it lololol especially with Wes and Danny crushing on Jason as everyone else is crushing on Danny

It's the most complicated love shape I've seen since Miraculous and I can't get enough 💖

Bruce is working on some late-night emails.

He chose not to go out as Batman tonight just because his kids had a lot of pent-up energy they needed to release on some unsuspecting crook, and he got behind in his civilian persona.

Bruce also wanted to keep an eye on Wes and Danny. The day after the Opera, Danny took it upon himself to take Wes out into the city again, showing him not only Batburger but also the city's sights and arcade.

Alfred booked them both an entire afternoon in Gotham's most luxurious spa as a gift for Danny's hard work. When Danny and Wes came back, both seemed to be glowing and frankly, Bruce wouldn't be surprised if they had turned heads on their way home.

Danny made his children break their necks when he walked by the family room with a laughing Wes. After spotting Danny in a very uncharacteristic move, Damian even walked into the living room wall.

Jason had laughed so hard he choked on his spit. It took every year of training for Bruce to catch Damian mid-jump to save Jason from his younger brother's worth.

It was only the knowledge that Wes was a civilian staying in the manor and that if he saw them in a fight, their covers would be blown, stopping Damian from attacking Jason further.

Bruce was getting tired of this romance novel setting he found himself in. His children haven't stressed him out this much in years. Okay, that's a lie.

They always stressed him out, but usually, it was due to them making a stance against crime. Not a random young man who was dating (secretly) the object of their affection.

Wesley Weston was a delightful young man despite everything. Bruce would almost approve of him if it weren't for the fact that he seemed aware of the Wayne children's hostility and edged it on by being extra cuddly with Danny.

He was delighted for Danny to have a friend who had been making him this happy, but all good things must end. This would be Wes's last night in Wayne Manor.

Tomorrow, Wes will board a plane back through Clockwork's unique gate and be gone from their lives until he can visit again. That could take a while, as Alfred had informed him that Danny's parents were becoming a nuisance.

That could mean any number of things, but the most obvious was that Danny's location needed to stay hidden. No one could contact him from his home.

Bruce sighs, wondering how the boy will handle the news. Alfred chose to wait until Wes was out of the manor so his charge would not break down in front of his friend. It would mean the world to Danny, who closely held his emotions to his chest.

A knock interrupts his thoughts.

"Come in," Bruce calls, wondering who it could be. He is surprised to see a shy redhead pop his head in. "Wes, what are you doing up this late?"

"Sorry to bother you, Mr. Wayne. I couldn't sleep," Wes says, scruffing his feet on the carpet. He takes a moment to gather his strength, then straightens out his back. Bruce braces himself, feeling he won't like what the boy has to say. "I wanted to talk to you about assigning Danny a medical cuddle buddy."

Bruce blinks, feeling well out of his depth. Was that new teen lingo? "A medical cuddle Buddy?"

"It's like an emotional support animal." Wes starts, gesturing with his hands in a flip-flap sort of motion. Bruce noticed Danny tended to do the same when making an explanation. A culture thing? "His emotional, mental, and even physical well-being plummets when he goes too long without cuddling."

Bruce had concluded the same.

Over the last two days, he noticed that Danny had seemed far happier than the weeks he had been in the Manor. At first, he just assumed it was because he finally had someone who understood what he was going through. But now it was clear that it wasn't just the excitement of having Wes around. Danny looked as if he was healing from a long-term lack of nutrition.

It was not a lack of food, as Alfred would never allow anyone to go hungry under his roof.

There had to be something else.

"Danny isn't human," he ventures, watching Wes' body language. At once, the boy tensed up, a dark look in his eye and a precise curl of his lip indicating protective intensity. Bruce closes his laptop, curls his finger under his chin, and leans on them, giving his full attention. "I have no issues with Danny being anything other than human. But I need to know what I have to provide him to keep him healthy."

We hesitated for a long moment, staring back at Bruce like he was weighing the billionaire's soul. His intense eyes bore into Bruce's, flickering around his face as if trying to find a lie in his statement.

Eventually, the boy hesitantly responds. "Danny is part human. The other half is a being that relies on certain emotions to feed. The most common one is fear, which is why his parents tried to kill him when they found out his kind. Fear-based beings are...dangerous, so it was understandable even if it sucked."

Wes's face twists into a hateful and sad expression that lets Bruce know the kids are attempting to rationalize Danny's parents' behavior. He would make sure to tell Alfred not to allow the boy any contact with them. They held too much power over the kid.

"Danny isn't a fear-based than," Bruce prompts, to which Wes rapidly shakes his head.

"He isn't! Danny is....well, he's love-based. He feeds on different versions of love. Have you heard of the eight ancient Greeks' type of love?"

"I have"

Wes rubs his arm, looking relatively young for his age. "Danny feeds on Agape and Philia the most. He used to feed a lot on Storge, but well...you know how that turned out."

He did, indeed.

Does this mean Danny had already been cut off from a significant food source his people needed? Did it also mean that Danny wasn't the Fenton's by blood? How could they not know he was half of another being?

He needed answers to all the questions, but the most important one still resurfaced: "How does Danny feed?"

"Usually through physical contact. Emotions aren't corporal; they are felt through a body like a ripple in the water. When Danny touches someone who shares Agape or Philia with him, the ripples transfer from the contact to his core." Wes explained looking mroe sure of himself. "When I first arrived, Danny looked half-starved. He would have collapsed had it not been for Clockwork sending me."

That's alarming. "What could have happened if he went too long without any love?"

"His core would explode."

"And a core is?"

"Think of it like Danny's heart. It pumps his body with the energy his people need to survive. If it fails, Danny dies."

The last sentence hangs in the room like poisonous gas. Bruce feels his chest squeez at the mere thought that Danny would pass from soemthing they could easily provide for him. "I'll make sure that doesn't happen."

Wes cracks a shaky smile. "I figure you wouldn't. You seem like an okay guy. Can you make sure none of the ones feeling Eros towards Danny are his cuddle-buddy? I don't think his heart is ready for that just yet."

"Of course." Bruce was thinking of Alfred, Cass, Dick, Jason, and himself. All of them would quickly provide the emotion Danny needed. He tells Wes this with what he hopes is an assuring smile.

Wes shuffles his feet nervously before he yells, "Not Jason."

"Why?" Bruce asks, mystified.

"Danny might...um, have a crush on him." The boy mutters almost too low for Bruce to hear. He then glances up with a look of panic. "You can't tell Danny I told you!"

Bruce feels a headache coming on. Of course, out of all the children who had a thing for Danny, the boy chose one of the few of his kids who did not feel the same way. Knowing his son, Jason would probably think it was flattering but would gently let the boy down due to his age.

Jason refused to date anyone outside of a four-year difference from him in any direction. Danny was in for a painful confession.

Wait.

"Wes, what would happen if Danny experienced heartbreak? How does that affect his people?"

Wes blinks, confused, before shrugging. "I guess they die of heartbreak?"

Great.

I'm going to have to make Danny stay away from my second eldest like another stereotypical villain in Jason's romance novels. Bruce rubs his eyes. Or get him together with one of the others who actually likes him. Ugh.

He'll have to discuss things with Alfred. After all, that was his boy.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #Alfred's Boy #Part 7 #Wes and Bruce bond #Bruce finally learns Danny isn't completely human #He don't care #But he's going to have a headache about Danny's crush #Sadly this will not be Dead on Main since Danny is a teen and Jason is not #Wes making sure Danny is set before he leaves #The plot thickens

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slamminslamminmcgill · 20 days

Note

Can you pretty please write a fic where Logan and Deadpool are having an argument about how they should be fucking the reader, like going over techniques while the reader is just drooling and mindless like “whaaa”

hell YEAH i love getting fucked stupid by big strong men >:3333€

this is a rly good prompt btw so i could GLADLY expand on this but for rn here’s a snippet 😌

warning: dp, painal, sadomasochism, mild transphobia, slurs, degradation, overstim, dubcon, daddy kink

anatomical terms: cunt/pussy/bussy

They talk about you like you’re not even there.

Well, physically you were right there with them. Mentally you were nowhere to be found, certainly not on their conversational level. Wade had been bouncing you in his lap for god knows how long. His cock in your cunt had thoroughly fucked your train of thought off the tracks. Your internal monologue was nothing but bitchy whimpers and primal burning for more. Welp. What do you expect? Back to back orgasms will do to that to you. You couldn’t even recall how the argument started, and context would’ve really been helpful.

“Wow! Okay! That’s a shitty thing to say to our guest! Wanna apologize and maybe try that one again, JK Rowling?”

"Oh, get fucked. That's not what I meant and you know it." Logan kept his firm hands on your shoulders, assisting your bounce, since your legs were damn near liquified.

“Mmmmm, ah, gah-fuuuck… Wh... Wha? Huh?”

“How is that not what you meant?" Wade, questioned, maintaining his steel grip on your ass. He felt that he had to protect you from the big bad wolf and his transphobia. "You just said he’s not a real man because he has a pussy. A tight, sweet, JUICY pussy that feels like a fleshlight full of microwaved angel dust. And yet SOMEHOW this makes him not a real man to you? Maybe you’re just not man enough for HIM, sugar-tits!”

"I said you gotta fuck him like a real man. You’re being too good to him. It's gonna fuel his ego, and I’m not letting you turn him into a spoiled brat. Fuck him in the ass, that'll teach him a lesson. Show him this shit ain't a joke."

"No way! Ass is ass is ass is ass. Everybody's got an asshole, peanut, and newsflash? They all feel the same. But this boy's pussy? This hot buttery premium A5 wagyu bussy that's—SQUEEZINGmyfuckingdicksotight, oh, fuck, fuckfuckfuck, angel baby, sweet boy, you feel so GOOD! Making your Daddy feel so good, good boy!"

Praise was easy enough to process. It didn't require any cognitive effort on your part. You didn't have to weigh in and have an opinion, you just have to take it, and be grateful for it. "Hah, fuck! Thank—thank you, Daddy! FUCK! Wade! WadeWadeWadeWade—WADE! WadeWadeWade..."

But Logan wouldn't let it go. "I'm serious. Make him take it up the ass, or I will."

“Un-be-lievable. You know something? You must be the one guy in this universe who could see a whimsical forest path that leads to a magical unicorn fountain, and says 'Oh, no, none for me. Let me go spelunking in the poop-chute, thank you very much!' And if that's not the single gayest thing I've seen in my entire—"

"WADE, SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

"Eeep!"

Oh, you poor thing. He nearly gave you a heart attack! It's terrifying when someone yells out of nowhere, especially when that someone has you naked and vulnerable in their hands. Logan had slammed you down on Wade's cock when he yelled, completely stopping the scene and trapping you between them. Woah. Time out. Shit has officially just gotten real. You and Wade held bated breath, and traded a glance that said "We're cooked. Nice knowing ya."

But Logan just laughed at you both. Delighted by the atmospheric tension he had just created.

"Heh... heh heh heh..."

Then he relaxed his grip on you, and those big strong calloused man hands started to explore. They massaged your shoulders, rubbed your neck and jaw, and groped and squeezed wherever they pleased. All the while, his hot breath, tinted with whiskey and malice, ghosted over the shell of your ear as he talked. He spoke very firmly. Targeted. Slow. He wanted you to get every fucking word.

"Listen, bub. I’m not about to question whether or not you’re a man, okay? But I’ll say this. When real men wanna take cock? It hurts. Oh, it hurts real bad. And most of ‘em don’t get the luxury of a cushy little cunt that’s meant to take a pounding. No, son. Real men get ripped apart by cock. It makes them cry and scream and sometimes their tiny little rims even bleed because of it. And you know what? They love it. They love how much it hurts them. Cause they’re men. Strong men. And you’re no fuckin’ better than them, you know that? You think just cause you got another hole that you can take the easy way out? Everything's gonna be peaches and cream, huh? Nuh uh. Not on my watch, you little shit. You wanna act like you're such a fag? Well then you’re getting fucked like one of us too."

…

“Jesus fucking Christ, babycakes, if you don’t want him up your ass I’ll GLADLY take the heat for you.”

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lycanlupins · 2 months

Text

NSFW Alphabet - Remy Lebeau/Gambit

Warnings: NSFW talk obviously! I love this kinky cajun and hope you do too

But seriously, I hope y’all like this, it was something to write while I recovered mentally and physically from being sick for so long

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s kind and caring, he’ll crack jokes while cleaning his partner up, maybe even run them a hot bath and give them a quick once over with a warm wash cloth

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On him its his cock, he’s loud and proud about it. He’s quite skilled with what he does and it doesn’t hurt that he’s well equipped

On his partner he loves thighs and ass. He’s 100% a thigh and ass man, anyone with a fat behind is right up his alley. He likes to hold and grab and grip and he can’t do that if there’s nothing there

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes to cum mark his partner, making sure that it’s on their tummy or face, taking a long hard look (and maybe a few pictures) just to remember the occasion

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He likes to fuck his partner in their sleep (consensually) and thinks its a wee bit hot when they wake up full of his cum dripping all over the sheets

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very experienced, Remy is so good at what he does and he knows it. Especially when he’s going down on his partner and they moan about what a good job he’s doing, he’s smirk and say something they don’t understand before going back to doing his duties

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Nasty man likes it kinky, he’ll start off with a nice 69 and end in Lotus or Mating Press depending on his mood. He rarely does missionary unless its romantic or his partner requests it

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He can be goofy for sure but most often than not he’s serious in a sexy way, not a quiet and boring way. He’ll occasionally make sex a little humorous by whispering funny things while he’s trying to catch his breath or between changing positions

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

This man is natural to a tee, not to say its a bad thing but he doesn’t trim it at all. He naturally has softer hair so its not uncomfortable and its not too hairy by any means either

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He loves intimacy but he can turn that off quick if its a one time thing. He’s an adaptable lover through and through and he’ll give his partner all or none of the romance if they wish

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He gets off in risky places ie. common rooms, the kitchen, anywhere he might get caught by his partner or even someone else

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Vouyerism

Threesomes (or more)

Anal

Role play (CNC, kidnapper, etc. he’s in when it comes to fun consensual kinks)

Breath play

Food Play

Breeding Kink

JOI

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere, anytime. He has no qualms about where and when he wants to have sex, he’s ready to go at a moments notice

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Teasing of any kind, him or his partner teasing the other is a sure fire way to end up folded under him, getting pumped full of cum

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn’t like physically hurting in the way of impact play to the face area, spanking is fine but he rarely if ever slaps his partner. Its kind of uncomfortable for him, it feels too much like abuse to him

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers to give but its an equal 50/50 in his relationships, he’s good at what he does and he likes to teach his partners just how to please him

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He changes the pace often, sometimes quick sometimes slow, usually somewhere between rough and not but he’ll make sure his partner knows he’s fucking them

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are frequently needed in his line of work so he’s not against them whatsoever, especially if its in a pretty public place

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Risk would be his middle name if he didn’t already have one, he’s up for a good pregnancy scare or getting caught by someone unsuspecting

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

2-3 rounds before he needs to recover, and those rounds could be 10 or so minutes excluding foreplay (which is his favorite part when he can get it in)

Quickies are always a problem when he’s as insatiable as he is but he still gives his partner a quick round or two

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

God he loves toys, he doesn’t find them competition but gladly welcomes their use on him or his partner, especially anal beads/anal plugs and vibrators

He also has a small remote controlled vibrator to match his partner that both of them have control to so they can mess with each other when they feel horny

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Big tease, especially with the remote controlled vibrator mentioned previously. He loves to turn it on while he’s watching his partner lecture about something or when they’re watching movies just to fuck with them

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Loud and proud, especially when he starts speaking in his native tongue. He’ll start praising and cursing loud enough for someone to hear if they walked by the room or lived in the room next to his/his partners

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He uses his staff to fuck his partner and then uses it in fights just so he has a little extra luck, at least in his mind

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

9 inches, curves slightly up and to the left, BIG balls. Mean vein on the left side of his shaft and a dark pink tip

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Insatiable but he’s not annoying about it, he’ll wait if his partner isn’t in the mood but once they are its all bets off

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He makes sure his partner is all set and taken care of before he lets himself relax enough to sleep afterwards. He can’t go to bed knowing he didn’t take care of his beloved first

#remy lebeau #gambit #gambit x reader #gambit x you #xmen smut #xmen headcanon #my writing

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helen-with-an-a · 26 days

Note

reader and player are in an relationship (either leah williamson, lucy bronze, jill roord, ona batlle, mapi leon) and are out in public and get hate crimed and sends reader into anxiety or panic attack and doubt about relationship please tysm x

Hiiiii. Thank you for this request. So I went with Mapí León for this one. And i think it's kinda cute. It's fluffy, it's angsty. It's incredibly long but I didn't want to split it up either and ruin the flow. I also received a request for some more mental health/anxiety ideas so I hope this fits into what you wanted. For anyone struggling with their sexuality or homophobia, just know that you are valid, you are loved and you are worth every single bit of happiness in this world. I love you lots and lots and I my corner of the internet helps someone. I hope you enjoy <3<3<3

Attacked

Mapí León x Reader

Description: R gets attacked by a 'fan'

TW: Homophobia; assault; homophobic assault; panic attacks; needles/hospitals

Word count: 8.6k (she a long one, I'm sorry)

It took a stupid amount of time for you to realise you were gay. Or at least that’s what you thought. You hadn’t realised you were anything other than straight until you arrived in Barcelona. You weren’t even sure what led to the epiphany. Yes, there were pretty girls in the Spanish city. But there were pretty girls in London too. It wasn’t like you had been sheltered from homosexuality either; you were a female footballer, for crying out loud. You couldn’t even go one season without teammates shacking up with each other (and that was just in the youth age groups).

Looking back, it wasn’t obvious either. You had heard from some of your friends at Arsenal that it was as clear as day they were gay, or at least not straight, by their clothing and mannerisms, especially when they were still figuring out their sexuality. You had none of that. You lived in your joggers and jeans more often than not, but you were no stranger to a pretty skirt or flowy dress. You never had a boyfriend. But you never expressed an interest in girls, either. Your parents called you a late bloomer. But there was never any form of romantic interest. When your friends asked about your crushes during a game of truth or dare, you lied and picked the first boy that came to mind.

It wasn’t that you were actively hiding something from yourself; it was more like the thought had simply never occurred to you. You were focused on football, your studies, and just living your life. There was never a pressing need to figure out who you were outside of that. The idea of dating, of romance, seemed secondary – something you’d get to when you were ready. If you were ever ready.

There was no sudden awaking in Barcelona either. You had just been going about your life. Football, friends and family. That was all you really wanted. It took you a while, but you found yourself noticing things you hadn’t before. The way your gaze lingered on the girl with the bright smile serving you coffee. The blush that bloomed across your cheeks when an opposition player swapped shirts with you. The way you had to force your eyes elsewhere as she stripped off her top. These weren’t feelings you could dismiss as admiration or friendship anymore.

Still, it wasn’t a sudden realisation. It crept up on you, a slow dawning that left you questioning everything. You started paying more attention to how you felt around certain people, how your body reacted, the warmth in your chest that spread whenever a particular girl laughed at your jokes. It was confusing and exhilarating all at once. You found yourself replaying moments in your head, trying to decipher them like they were clues to some hidden mystery. The more you thought about it, the more everything started to make sense. The way you’d always felt a little out of place when your friends talked about boys, how you’d never really understood the obsession with crushes and dating. It was like looking at your life through a new lens, one that brought everything into sharper focus.

And then she appeared. Well, she had been at Barcelona for longer than you had. Her bleach blonde hair and inky tattoos littering her skin. You didn’t really notice her at first, not in any way other than a friend. A friend with chocolate-coloured eyes and soft skin that made your heart flutter and your skin tingle.

You’d been introduced to her during a training session, just another teammate to get to know in this whirlwind of new faces and routines. At first, it was easy to categorise her in the same way you did the others: as someone to pass the ball to, to run drills with, to exchange banter and maybe grab a drink with after practice. She was easy-going, with a quick wit and a laugh that made you feel at ease. But that was all, or at least that’s what you told yourself.

“Hola,” she smiled at you, relishing in the soft pink that settled on your cheeks.

“H-hola.” Your Spanish was really not very good. You had a rudimentary understanding from school, but the rapid torrent of rolling rs and expressive hand gestures that accompanied the language often left you scrambling to keep up. Still, you tried your best, determined not to look completely clueless. She seemed to find your attempts endearing, her smile widening as she tilted her head slightly, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Soy María.” The teasing lilt was evident, even in the simple sentence. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

“Soy Y/N,” you whispered back, face burning in embarrassment.

The shift happened gradually, so subtly that you didn’t even realise it at first. You started looking forward to seeing her, noticing the little things she did—the way she always seemed to find you after a tough drill to share a grin or offer an encouraging word, the way she’d nudge your shoulder when you made a joke, the way her eyes sparkled when she was teasing you. It was like she had this effortless way of making everything seem lighter, more fun.

You told yourself it was just friendship, a camaraderie that came from being on the same team, from sharing the highs and lows of training and matches. But deep down, there was a gnawing feeling, a quiet whisper that this was something more. The way your pulse quickened when she was near, the way your stomach fluttered when she touched you, even if it was just a casual brush of her hand. You tried to ignore it, to push it down, to convince yourself it was nothing. After all, you’d never felt this way about anyone before. It didn’t fit with the version of yourself you thought you knew. But the more you tried to deny it, the stronger it became until it was impossible to ignore.

Then came the night that changed everything.

You and a few teammates had gone out to celebrate a win, the energy still buzzing in your veins as you moved through the crowded bar. Mapí was there, of course, her presence as intoxicating as the drinks in your hand. You found yourself gravitating towards her, just like you always did. But this time, something felt different, charged.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the adrenaline from the match, or maybe it was just the way she looked at you – like you were the only person in the room. Whatever it was, you felt bold in a way you hadn’t before, leaning in closer, laughing a little louder, your touches lingering a little longer. And she responded in kind, her eyes never leaving yours, her smile turning softer, more intimate.

At some point, the two of you found yourselves outside, the cool night air a welcome relief from the heat inside. The city lights twinkled above, and for a moment, everything felt surreal, like you were in a dream. She turned to you, her expression unreadable, and before you could even think, she was leaning in, her lips brushing yours.

It was soft, tentative, and it sent a shockwave through your entire body. For a split second, time seemed to stop, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. And then, just as suddenly, she pulled back, her eyes searching yours as if she was waiting for something – for you to react, to say something, to do anything.

“Lo siento mucho. I … I thought I read that right, I thought … never mind. Dios, soy tan estúpida. Qué idiota, María. I’m so sorry, please forget about it. I-” She ran a hand through her hair, her body shifting from side-to-side as if she was at war with herself on whether she should stay or lip.

“No,” you shouted, cutting her off. “I ... I’m the stupid one. I’ve never … I’m … god, this is embarrassing. I’ve never … that was my … um … my first kiss.” you finally blurted out, your voice trembling with a mixture of nerves and vulnerability. The confession hung in the air between you, raw and unfiltered. You immediately felt the urge to shrink back, to take back the words, to pretend they had never left your lips. But it was too late; the truth was out.

Mapí’s eyes widened in surprise, her expression softening as she absorbed your words. The tension in her body seemed to melt away, replaced by something gentler, something understanding. She took a small step closer, her gaze never leaving yours.

“Tu primer beso?” she echoed, her voice tender, almost disbelieving. There was no judgment in her tone, only a quiet curiosity, as if she was trying to piece together the puzzle of who you were. You nodded, swallowing hard as you fought the urge to look away.

“Yeah,” you whispered, feeling exposed in a way you never had before. “I didn’t … I mean, I never really thought about it, not until recently. And then you … and I just …” The words tumbled out in a jumble; your thoughts too tangled to make sense of.

Mapí’s expression softened even further, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. She reached out tentatively, her hand hovering in the air for a moment before she gently placed it on your arm. The touch was light, reassuring, and it sent a warmth through you that chased away some of the fear.

“It’s okay,” she said softly, her voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. “You don’t have to apologise. I didn’t know. I just … I thought maybe you felt the same way I did.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotion. You looked into her eyes, searching for the truth in them, and what you found there took your breath away. There was no mockery, no pity, just a quiet understanding and something else – something that made your heart beat a little faster.

“I think I do,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The confession felt like a leap into the unknown, terrifying but also liberating. “I’m just … figuring it out.”

Mapí’s smile widened, and she let out a soft, relieved laugh. “We can figure it out together,” she said, her hand giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “If that’s what you want.”

You nodded, the fear slowly giving way to a tentative excitement. “I’d like that,” you replied, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

Mapí had been true to her word in every sense. She held your hand, standing silently next to you but never guiding or pushing. It was strange at first. A good kind of strange. The type that made your stomach flop and your heart do back flips. She was patient, always attuned to your pace, never rushing you or making you feel like you had to be something you weren’t ready for. She seemed to understand, instinctively, that you were still figuring things out, still finding your footing in this new terrain of emotions and desires. And she was there for you, steadfast and unwavering, offering support without overwhelming you.

It was in the little things that you noticed her care the most. The way she would brush a stray hair from your face, her touch feather-light and full of affection. How she’d send you a small, reassuring smile across the pitch during training, a silent message that said she was there if you needed her. And when you were together, just the two of you, she’d hold your hand or wrap an arm around your shoulders, her presence warm and comforting, like a blanket shielding you from the uncertainties of the world. The team had caught on to something between you – it was clear the two of you were hopeless of each other. Alexia had been so excited that one of her best friends had finally found love. She was ready to scream it from the rooftops to anyone who would listen. But Mapí, ever the private person, had gently asked Alexia to keep things quiet for a while. It wasn’t that she was ashamed, far from it – she was simply respecting your need for time, for the space to navigate this new part of your life without the added pressure of everyone else’s expectations. Alexia, despite her bubbling excitement, had understood, offering a knowing smile and a promise to let you both reveal things in your own time.

It wasn’t long before the rest of the team started piecing things together. The stolen glances, the subtle touches, the way you seemed to gravitate toward each other whenever you were in the same room – it was all too obvious to those who knew you well. There was a teasing comment here, a raised eyebrow there, but overall, the team was respectful, allowing you and Mapí to define your relationship on your own terms.

You found yourself relaxing into it, this new rhythm of your life that included Mapí in ways you hadn’t even imagined before. The two of you would grab coffee after practice, sometimes lingering for hours as you talked about everything and nothing. On days off, you’d explore the city together, finding hidden gems in Barcelona that you’d never noticed on your own. And always, there was that gentle, steady presence of hers, a reminder that you weren’t alone in this.

The first time you kissed her again, it was different. You were so nervous, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure she could hear it. But Mapí was patient, waiting for you to make the first move, her eyes gentle and encouraging. When your lips met, it was slow, tentative – a kiss filled with promise and the quiet understanding that this was something you both wanted to explore together. There was no rush, no pressure, just the two of you sharing a moment that felt like the beginning of something real.

As the weeks went by, you found yourself growing more comfortable in her presence, more confident in your feelings. You started to let go of the fear that had held you back, the fear of not knowing, of not being enough. Mapí never made you feel like you had to have all the answers. She was content to let things unfold naturally, to let you take the lead whenever you were ready.

It had been almost a year at this point. The words had been dancing through your mind for a month or so now, the phrase resting on the tip of your tongue as she made you your morning tea and helped brush through your hair before bed. You felt every ounce of her love for you throughout the day. From the way she guided you through the doors at the training facility to the proud look she gave you when you finished your plate at lunch time.

You could see it in her eyes, the way they softened whenever she looked at you, and in her touch, gentle and reassuring, like she was always trying to convey what words couldn’t fully capture. It was in the way she would leave little notes for you to find—scribbled reminders that she was thinking of you even when you weren’t together. It was in the way she knew just how you liked your tea, the perfect amount of sweetness, the right temperature. And it was in the way she was always there, not just as a lover, but as a partner, a friend, someone who understood you in ways you didn’t think were possible.

The three words had been lingering in your mind, growing stronger with each passing day. You felt them pressing against your chest, warm and insistent, waiting for the right moment to be set free. But every time you tried to say them, they stuck in your throat, the fear of what they might mean, of how they might change things, holding you back.

It wasn’t that you doubted how you felt - you were sure of it in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating. It was the weight of those words, the finality of them, that made you hesitate. Because once they were out there, you couldn’t take them back. And what if they changed everything? What if they made things too real, too fast?

But then there were moments when you looked at her - really looked at her—and you wondered how you could ever keep something so true to yourself. She deserved to know, to hear it from your lips, to feel the depth of your affection. And you wanted to say it, wanted her to know just how much she meant to you.

One evening, as you both sat on the couch in your shoebox flat, her head resting on your shoulder while a movie played in the background, you felt the words bubbling up again. She was tracing absent patterns on the back of your hand, her breathing soft and steady, completely at ease in the quiet intimacy of the moment. You glanced down at her, taking in the relaxed lines of her face, the way her eyes fluttered closed as she nestled closer to you.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words finally spilling out before you could overthink them. Your heart raced as soon as they left your mouth, the silence that followed feeling both heavy and light all at once.

Mapí’s eyes opened slowly, her gaze searching yours. There was a flicker of surprise, but then her lips curved into a soft, radiant smile. She shifted, turning to face you fully, her hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“I love you too,” she said, her voice steady, filled with a quiet certainty that made your heart swell. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now, but I didn’t want to rush you.”

A wave of relief and joy washed over you, so powerful it brought tears to your eyes. You leaned into her touch, feeling the warmth of her palm against your skin, and suddenly, everything felt right. The fear, the hesitation – it all melted away, leaving only the truth of how you felt, and how she felt too.

She pulled you closer, her forehead resting against yours as she breathed out a soft, contented sigh. “I’m so glad you said it,” she murmured, her thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “Because I’ve been waiting for the right time, and this feels perfect.”

You smiled, feeling the tears spill over, but they were happy tears, tears of relief and love. “It does,” you agreed, your voice thick with emotion. “It really does.”

You leant down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. She paused, kissing back but letting you take the lead, just like she always did. “María,” you sighed when you parted. Her name felt like a prayer on your lips, a whispered declaration of everything you felt but hadn’t yet put into words. She looked at you with those deep, coffee-coloured eyes, so full of love and understanding, and you felt the last remnants of your doubt dissolve. There was nothing but the two of you in that moment, everything else fading into the background.

“Te amo,” you continued, your voice trembling slightly, but your heart steady. You had practiced those words in your head a thousand times, but saying them aloud felt different, more powerful, more real. “I love you so much.”

A slow, radiant smile spread across her face, lighting up her features in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “Yo también te amo,” she whispered back, her voice filled with the same emotion that had been building in your chest. “More than you know.”

She kissed you again, her hands threading through your loose strands as she shifted to straddle you. You had done this before, tongues clashing and teeth nipping as you left yourself melt into her. Every time you had done this before. You had felt your heart raise, and not in the good way. Your hands became clammy and your chest tight. It would be lying to say you were waiting for those feelings to arrive, but you were expecting them to appear at some point. You let out a soft hum as Mapí moved to kiss the space just below your ear.

“Está bien esto?” She asked gently, pulling back to look into your eyes. You nodded.

“More than.” She smiled that dazzling smile as you drew her back to you.

“María,” you gasped as she left a gentle hicky on your collarbone. “María,” you said again.

“Qué? I’m sorry. I went to far. Mierda, joder, estúpida María.” The softness in her voice juxtaposed the harshness of her words. You quickly shook your head, reaching up to cup her face with both hands, your thumbs gently brushing against her cheeks. “No, no, you didn’t,” you reassured her, your voice breathless but earnest. “It’s not that. It’s just… I’ve never felt like this before.”

She paused, searching your eyes for any sign of discomfort, her own expression softening as she took in your words. “Like what?” she asked, her tone filled with genuine curiosity, but also a hint of concern.

“Like I’m completely here,” you tried to explain, though the words felt inadequate. “I’m not overthinking; I’m not scared. I’m just … with you. And it feels right. Really right.”

A relieved smile spread across her face, and she leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m so glad to hear that,” she whispered against your skin, her breath warm and soothing. “Because I want this to be perfect for you. I want us to be perfect.”

“We already are,” you murmured, pulling her closer, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against your own. “As long as it’s you, it’s perfect.”

She gazed at you for a long moment, her eyes filled with so much love that it made your heart ache in the best way possible. “Te adoro,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll always take care of you, you know that, right?”

“I know,” you whispered back, the words resonating deep within you. “And I’ll always take care of you too.”

With that, she kissed you again, slower this time, her lips moving against yours in a way that felt both tender and passionate, as if she were pouring every ounce of her love into that kiss. And you kissed her back with everything you had, letting yourself get lost in her, in the way she made you feel – whole, cherished, and completely loved.

It was something that had never really crossed your mind. Barça were incredibly open in their support of their LGBTQ+ players; most of the girls on the team were either openly gay or at least had never confirmed their sexuality. The culture within the club was inclusive and accepting, a reflection of the progressive values that extended beyond the pitch. The team dynamic was built on mutual respect, and the acceptance of each player’s identity was woven into the fabric of everyday life.

It never occurred to you that you would be the subject of hate. You knew that your relationship with Mapí would help others at some point in their lives. You had never officially announced your relationship, but everyone knew you were together. You never hid your interactions or love for one another, both on and off the pitch. Women’s football as a whole was generally so supportive and inclusive that you never thought much about it.

When you had finally introduced Mapí to your parents, they hadn’t even blinked. They welcomed her in with open arms, asking all about what her life was like in Spain. Your friends hadn’t questioned it either. The people that knew you from football had smiled and continued about their days – they came to you privately later, congratulating you and asking how you dealt with someone as talkative at Mapí León on a daily basis. Your friends from school hadn’t thought much about it either. They had squealed a little more than your teammates, but they overall sentiment remained. They accepted you without question.

But then came the messages.

It was during a routine check of your social media accounts. You had always tried to keep up with your fans and interact with those who supported you, but recently, the influx of messages had become overwhelming. You had been working through them when you stumbled upon a comment that made your heart sink. It was a harsh, venomous remark directed at you and Mapí, questioning the validity of your relationship and expressing disgust over it.

You stared at the screen, trying to process the words. It wasn’t the first time you had encountered negativity, but something about this message hit differently. It was as if the inclusive bubble you had lived in was suddenly punctured, and the harsh reality of prejudice had made its way inside. Your hands shook as you showed the comment to Mapí, her face falling as she read it.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The warmth and acceptance you had grown accustomed to seemed a world away. The message was an unwelcome reminder that not everyone shared the same values of respect and love that you were fortunate enough to experience in your immediate circle. It felt like a betrayal of the very community that had been your support system.

“Oh, mi amor.” Mapi cooed gently. She was no stranger to this kind of thing. She had been one of the first openly gay, popular Spanish footballers with a large platform – she never let the hate get to her too much. She knew who she was. She knew who she loved. And the people that she cared for supported her in that. And that was all she needed.

“Am I really that disgusting?” You voice cracked as you whispered the question. The pain seeping into every word. Mapí's heart ached at the sight of the anguish in your eyes. She pulled you into a gentle embrace, her arms wrapping around you with a comforting warmth.

"No, amor, you are not disgusting. Not in any way. The people who write things like that don’t know us. They don’t understand our love, and their hate has nothing to do with who we are or what we have together.” You buried your face in her shoulder, tears slipping down your cheeks despite your best efforts to hold them back.

“Do you think I’m disgusting? Or Alexia? Or Lucy?” She asked, sensing that you didn’t believe her.

“No, no. Not at all. You are perfect.” You were quick to get out.

Mapí's embrace tightened, her fingers gently stroking your hair as she listened to your hurried reassurances. "I’m glad you think so, de lo contrario esto sería un poco incómodo.” she teased softly, her voice quiet and steady despite the rage bubbling beneath the surface.

How could someone think that you were anything less than perfect? You with you gentle smile and happy outlook on life. You with your quick wit and sarcastic humour. You pulled yourself out of your hiding place in her neck, meeting her warm gaze.

Mapí nodded, her expression serious yet empathetic. She brushed a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear with a gentle touch. You managed a faint smile at her attempt to lighten the mood, though the weight of the hateful comment still pressed heavily on your heart. “It just hurts, y’know? How could a someone think something like that about a total stranger, just because of who they love? It’s so unfair and hurts so much.” Mapí nodded, her expression serious but filled with empathy. She pushed a strand of hair out of your face, tucking it neatly behind your ear.

“Lo sé, mi amor. It’s very unfair. The hurt is real, and it’s okay to feel it. Just don’t let it consume you. Staying strong isn’t about never feeling hurt. It’s about knowing that the love and support surrounding us are stronger than any hate. I remind myself of who I am and who I love, and I focus on the people who truly matter.”

You looked down at her, seeing the determination in her eyes. " Is it always like this?" you asked sadly.

“No, mi amor. No siempre es así. As sad as it is, we always get those idiotas homofóbicos. We have so many people who stand by us, who see us for who we truly are and love us for it. Those who matter, love us completely.”

“Te amo, María,” you said firmly, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“I love you, Y/N,” she responded with equal conviction.

You had thought that the hate would be contained to the online world, a digital shadow that wouldn’t reach beyond the screen. And for the most part, it stayed there. The overwhelming love and support from strangers and fans often drowned out the negativity. The happiness you felt when reading the heartwarming comments on your birthday photo dump was a vivid reminder of the kindness and acceptance that surrounded you.

But as the days went by, you began to notice a subtle shift. The occasional unkind glance or whispered comment during public appearances started to seep through. At first, it was easy to dismiss—isolated incidents, nothing more than fleeting moments of discomfort. But as time passed, these instances grew more frequent and harder to ignore. It was as though the hate that had been confined to the online realm had begun to manifest in the real world, reaching into places you thought were safe.

It was a fan, if you could call him that. You had seen him a few times at the stadium. He had given you the creeps, even with the mass of security guards surrounding you and your personal guard dog in the form of an injured Mapí León. Since her own injury, she was hyper-aware of everything you did – from the tackles you took on the pitch to the way you cut the food up for your evening meal.

He had started to show up more frequently, always lurking just beyond the edges of the crowd, his gaze unsettlingly fixated on you. Initially, you had brushed it off as paranoia. After all, the stadium was a place filled with people, and not everyone would fit neatly into the friendly supporter category. But there was something distinctly off about him that made your skin crawl.

You were walking down the street to your flat, the sun starting to set, and the city bathed in a soft, golden light. After a long day of training, you had treated yourself to a well-deserved coffee. The warmth of the cup in your hand was a small comfort, a reminder of the hard work you had put in. You should have been more aware of your surroundings. You should have looked around as you crossed the street, your building only a few metres away.

Lost in the mundane thoughts of your day, you barely noticed the figure trailing behind you. The footsteps grew louder, and a voice called out your name. You turned around to see the fan you had seen at the stadium before. His face was contorted with a mix of anger and something darker—something that made your heart race.

“Hey! Y/N!” he shouted, his tone harsh and accusatory.

You forced a polite smile, though unease prickled at the back of your neck. “Yes? Can I help you?”

His eyes flashed with something unsettling. “You think you’re so special, don’t you? You and your girlfriend, flaunting your relationship like it’s some kind of victory.”

A chill ran down your spine. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I …” you thought better of telling him where you were headed. The thought of Mapí waiting for you at home, the excitement at the sweet treats made you change rethink what you were going to say.

Before you could react, he lunged at you with surprising speed. His hands were rough as he grabbed your shoulders, shoving you backward. You stumbled, trying to regain your balance, but his grip tightened, and he shoved you again, sending you crashing into a nearby wall. Pain exploded in your head as you hit the hard surface. The hot coffee scalding your hand and arm.

Your vision blurred as he raged on, his fists flying. One punch landed squarely on your face, and a sharp, searing pain erupted. You cried out, raising your arms defensively as he struck you again. The force of his blows was overwhelming, and you could feel the blood trickling from your split lip and the swelling around your eye.

“Stop! Please!” you begged, your voice hoarse and panicked.

His words were fuelled with the fire of hatred. “You think you can just walk around like that? It’s an abomination! You’re a disgrace!”

The world felt like it was closing in on you, a cruelly distorted blur of faces and harsh sounds. With each punch, you struggled to keep your composure, your vision dimming at the edges. Adrenaline surged through you, but it was not enough to counteract the force of his rage. The pain was almost unbearable, and the cold pavement beneath you seemed to be pulling you into its embrace. How nice would it be to just close your eyes?

Waking up in the hospital was not as pleasant as some TV shows make it out to be. On TV, the protagonist blinks awake, announces that she/he/it is perfectly fine, leaps out of bed, and continues on with their day like nothing ever happened. In reality, the moment you opened your eyes, you were greeted with a throbbing headache and the disorienting beeping of medical machines.

The room was sterile and bright, the kind of light that seemed to invade every corner of your vision. An IV drip hung beside the bed, and your body felt heavy and sluggish, weighed down by both the physical and emotional toll of the previous night. Your face was wrapped in gauze, and each movement of your head sent a ripple of pain through your temples.

You tried to sit up, but a dull ache in your ribs reminded you of the bruising from the assault. Your movements were slow and cautious as you looked around the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The walls were a bland, comforting white, and a faint smell of antiseptic lingered in the air.

You swallowed, the memories coming back harsh and fast. An abomination. A disgrace. The words echoed in your mind, blending with the beeping of the heart monitor. Your breaths came faster, and you could feel your chest tightening. The realisation of what had happened hit you with a new intensity. The panic began as a creeping unease, but it quickly escalated into something much more ferocious. Your chest tightened, a band of pressure wrapping around it, making it difficult to draw a full breath. Each inhale felt shallow, as though you were only pulling in small, insufficient sips of air.

The beeping of the heart monitor grew louder and more insistent in your ears. It was as if the rhythm was syncing with the frantic pounding of your heart, which seemed to be racing uncontrollably. Your vision blurred around the edges, the sterile white walls of the hospital room warping and closing in, as though the space itself was shrinking.

A cold sweat broke out on your forehead, trickling down your temples and mingling with the tears that you hadn’t realised were streaming down your face. The room felt both too hot and too cold. Your hands began to tremble uncontrollably, and your fingers gripped the sheets tightly, as if they were the only thing anchoring you to reality.

You tried to steady your breathing, but it only seemed to make things worse. Every exhale was ragged and uneven, leaving you gasping for air. Your breaths were coming in rapid, shallow bursts, causing your chest to tighten further. You felt lightheaded, and your body began to tremble, caught in the vice grip of fear and physical exertion.

The panic was overwhelming, a sensation of losing control that seemed to engulf you entirely. It was like being trapped in a claustrophobic space, with your mind screaming for escape but finding no way out. Your body felt alien and unresponsive.

“Mi amor?” María. María, who loved you so much. María, who you loved with all your heart. María, whose love was the reason that man attacked you. María, who looked at you with red-rimmed eyes and dark circles. You gasped, your breath hitching in your throat as she moved from the doorway – a paper cup of coffee in her hand.

You tried to sit up, but the pain was too intense. Instead, you pushed yourself away from her with a frantic, jerky motion, your eyes wide with fear. “No, no, María, don’t come near me,” you croaked, your voice rough with terror. “Please, just … stay back.”

Her eyes widened, confusion and hurt flashing across her face. “Qué? Mi amor, qué pasa?” She moved further into the room. Her approach only heightened your sense of panic. The very thought of her being near you, of her love being a potential catalyst for more danger, made your heart race faster. You could feel the tightness in your chest growing, the room seeming to close in around you. “No, you don’t understand,” you said, your voice rising in desperation. “I can’t … please, I need you to stay away.”

María’s expression shifted to one of deep concern. She hesitated, her hand outstretched but unmoving. “No entiendo. Por favor, mi amor.” The panic inside you was a swirling storm, irrational but consuming. The sight of her, with her tear-streaked face and pleading eyes, felt like it was amplifying your fear, as if her presence was a reminder of everything that had gone wrong. The beeping of the heart monitor seemed to grow louder, more insistent, matching the frantic rhythm of your heart.

The struggle to breathe became more pronounced, each inhale shallow and shaky. You tried to focus on the calming instructions the medical staff had given you earlier, but the sight of María only made it harder to regain control. The feeling of losing control was terrifying, and the idea of her being in close proximity only intensified it.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, your voice choked with emotion. “I’m so sorry. I just can’t handle this right now.” Tears streamed down your face. Your heart breaking at the fear you felt. You wanted nothing more than to be at home, safe, with Mapí lying on your chest, her fingers drawing shapes against your skin. But that thought terrified you. That man … the hatred that he screamed at you.

Tears sprang to Mapí’s eyes too, her face crumpling with a mixture of sadness and frustration. She slowly took a step back, her hand falling to her side, her expression one of heartbreak.

“Amor, por favor. What happened? Please, please.” Her English was rough and harsh – her Spanish accent even thicker through the emotion.

“I can’t, María, I can’t.” The heartrate monitor beeped incessantly. Each beep felt like an assault on your fragile mental state, a mechanical metronome of your fear. The beeping grew louder, more insistent, as if the machine was reflecting the internal storm tearing through you.

María’s eyes were filled with tears, her own panic mingling with yours. She was torn between wanting to comfort you and respecting your need for space. Her hands, now clutched to her chest, shook slightly. “I don’t understand. Please, tell me what I can do. Quiero ayudar, pero no sé cómo.” Her words, though intended to soothe, only heightened your panic. The thought of her being close, her love being a potential source of more distress, felt unbearable. You wanted to reach out to her, to pull her close and find solace in her embrace, but the fear that she might be in danger because of you was overwhelming.

“Please,” you gasped, “just … stay back.” You had never sobbed so hard in your life. Not when your beloved childhood cat died, or when you broke your arm at 17 and had to miss your first youth World Cup.

María’s face fell, her shoulders sagging as she took another hesitant step back. Her sadness was palpable, a heavy, suffocating presence that filled the room. She looked around, her gaze searching for some way to bridge the gap between your fear and her helplessness. “Lo siento, mi amor,” she said softly, her voice breaking. “I’ll stay out here. But please … please try to breathe. Te amo mucho, y … I’m here if you want me.”

María, despite her tears and frustration, slowly backed away as you’d requested, her face etched with worry and heartbreak. The room felt more desolate with her retreat, her absence amplifying the crushing weight of your fear. The medical staff, alerted by the rising noise of the heart monitor and the commotion, entered the room with calm efficiency.

A nurse, her face set in a mask of practiced concern, immediately assessed the situation. She exchanged a quick glance with a doctor who followed her into the room, their expressions serious but composed.

“Y/N, we need to help you calm down,” the nurse said in a soothing tone, though her voice was firm. She spoke English, her accent similar to Mapí, although the softness and love could never be replicated. “You’re having a panic attack, and we need to address it to ensure you don’t hurt yourself further.”

You could barely focus on her words through the haze of your panic. Your vision was blurred, the edges of the room warping. The beeping seemed to grow louder, more insistent, making your head throb with each beat.

The doctor moved with practiced precision, his calm demeanour doing little to ease the tightness. “We’re going to give you something to help you relax,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “It’s a sedative that will help calm your nervous system and ease the panic.”

The nurse prepared the injection with deliberate care, her movements smooth and measured as she drew the medication into a syringe. You could feel the tremors in your hands subsiding slightly as you saw the needle, but the thought of the medication brought a flicker of hesitant hope. The nurse approached your bedside, her eyes soft but serious. “This is just to help you get through this moment,” she explained. “It’ll help slow your heart rate and ease the tightness in your chest. It’s important that you try to stay still and calm.”

You nodded weakly, the effort of maintaining any semblance of control draining you further. As the nurse gently inserted the needle into your arm, the sensation of the injection was barely noticeable compared to the wave of relief you hoped would follow.

The panic attack did not vanish immediately, but the edge of your fear began to dull. Your breaths slowly started to even out, and the room’s oppressive atmosphere seemed to lift slightly. The nurse remained by your side, her hand gently resting on your arm as you began to calm. “You’re doing well,” she said softly, her voice a steady anchor in the midst of your turmoil. “Just focus on your breathing. In and out, nice and slow.”

As the sedative began to take effect, you felt a heavy, soothing drowsiness settling over you. The intense tightness in your chest started to loosen, and the room’s edges began to blur again, though this time not with fear but with the onset of a numbing calm. Your muscles relaxed, and the frantic rhythm of your heart began to slow.

The doctor and nurse continued to monitor you closely, their presence a steady reassurance as you drifted towards sleep. As the sedative took full effect, you felt yourself sinking into the mattress, your breaths becoming more even and your thoughts gradually quieting. The panic that had overwhelmed you was receding, replaced by a heavy, drugged tranquillity. The sense of control you had been grasping for was slipping away, but in its place, a fragile peace began to settle.

The last thing you remember before succumbing to the effects of the sedative was the reassuring presence of María, her eyes reflecting a deep, painful empathy as she remained by your side, waiting for you to find some semblance of peace.

Waking up again was not like the movies. Nor like the first time either. The sedative had done its job, easing the panic and helping you relax a little, but the clarity that followed was tinged with a profound exhaustion. The room was dimly lit now, the harsh, clinical light replaced by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. The beeping of the heart monitor had returned to a steady, rhythmic pace, a soothing backdrop to the quiet of the room.

You opened your eyes slowly, your body feeling heavy and drained from the sedative. The pain was still there, but it was more manageable now, softened by the medication. As your vision cleared, you saw Mapí sitting beside your bed, her head resting on her folded arms, her eyes closed in a moment of rest. Her tear-streaked face was illuminated by the gentle light, and seeing her there, so close, stirred a deep ache in your chest.

You shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable, and she stirred, her eyes fluttering open. When she saw you awake, her face lit up with a mixture of relief and lingering sadness. She quickly wiped at her eyes, but the trace of tears remained.

“Y/N,” she whispered, her voice trembling but filled with warmth. “Estas despierta.”

You attempted a weak smile, but the effort was heavy. “Yeah,” you rasped, your voice rough from the earlier panic. “I’m awake.” You lifted your hand slightly, ignoring the way the IV tugged on your skin.

You sighed softly as you found what you were searching for. Mapí’s hand was soft and rough – callouses littered her skin in the familiar pattern. You clutched it tightly, holding her like she was a lifeline. You were fairly sure she was. She squeezed back just as hard, her thumb moving rhythmically against the side of your hand.

“I’m so sorry, María.” You whispered into the silence. “I … I don’t even know what that was.”

“You had a panic attack.” She informed you. “Por mi culpa”. You shook your head gently, though the movement caused a dull throb in your temples.

“No, María, not because of you. Because of him.” She blinked, confused at what you were talking about. Had no one filled her in on why you were here? “Some guy … I was walking back home from the coffee shop. He attacked me.”

Mapí’s eyes widened with a mix of horror and confusion as she absorbed your words. The room seemed to still around you, the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor the only sound that punctuated the heavy silence. Her grip on your hand tightened, her thumb moving with renewed urgency as she processed the gravity of what you were saying.

“What do you mean, someone attacked you?” she asked, her voice a blend of anguish and disbelief. Her eyes searched yours for any sign of reassurance that this wasn’t as bad as it sounded. You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.

“He was a fan. I’d seen him at the stadium before. He’d always given me a bad vibe, but I didn’t think much of it. He started shouting at me, saying horrible things … and then he just came at me. I couldn’t … I couldn’t defend myself properly.”

Mapí’s face turned ashen, her eyes glistening with tears. She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady herself. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? I’ve been sitting here, just knowing you were hurt, but not knowing why or how. I should have been here for you, but I didn’t even understand – ”

“No, it’s not your fault,” you interrupted softly, trying to comfort her despite your own fragile state. “I pushed you away. I was scared and confused. I didn’t know how to handle it, and I thought –” She shook her head, her eyes now full of unshed tears and raw emotion. “No, I should have known something was wrong. I should have been more aware. I should have done more.” You could see the self-blame etched into her features, and it hurt to see her like this. You reached out, your fingers brushing against her cheek with as much gentleness as you could manage.

“María Pilar, you listen to me. No es tu culpa. None of this is. I’m sorry for pushing you away. I just … you should’ve had to see me like that. I was so scared that he would come back. And if he saw us, then he might hurt you too.”

Her tears finally spilled over, cascading down her cheeks as she struggled to contain her emotions. “Te amo mucho, Y/N. I’ve been so worried, I’m so, so sorry. Whatever you need. Whatever you want. No se hacen preguntas. I’ll get it for you. Just tell me what you need. Please, just tell me.”

Your heart ached at the sight of her, so vulnerable and heartbroken. It was clear how much she cared, and it made the weight of your situation feel even heavier. You tried to find the right words to express the gratitude and love you felt for her, but they seemed to escape you. Instead, you pulled her hand closer, resting it against your chest as if it could somehow anchor both of you to a place of calm.

“I don’t even know what I need right now,” you admitted, your voice cracking with the rawness of your emotions. “I feel so lost. But having you here … it’s more than I could ask for. Just knowing that you’re by my side means everything.”

Mapí’s tears continued to fall, but she nodded, her expression softening with a resolve that was both comforting and inspiring. “I’ll be here, Y/N. Every step of the way. We’ll face this together, no matter how hard it gets. I’m not going anywhere.”

The sincerity in her voice, combined with the tenderness of her touch, began to ease some of the tightness in your chest. You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “I just … I need to find a way to be okay again. I need to believe that things will get better.”

“And they will. Not right away. But they will. Te lo prometo, lo haré mejor.” You closed your eyes, allowing her words to wash over you. The steady beeping of the heart monitor and the warmth of Mapí’s hand in your helped you believe her promise. It was a small comfort, but it was enough to help you find a glimmer of hope.

As you lay there, the exhaustion from the sedative mingling with the emotional drain, you felt a renewed sense of determination. The road to recovery would be long and uncertain, but with Mapí by your side, you felt a flicker of strength that you hadn’t thought possible just moments before.

“I love you, María Pilar León Cebrián.”

“Y yo te amo,Y/F/N Y/S/N.”

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3<3

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noyasmashing · 4 months

Note

Tamaki is literally my only anime crush 😭 and then you write for him 🫶

Can we have yan Tamaki hcs? I don’t know if you write yan or not

ANYTHING FOR U MILLY!! I have not written yandere before so ill try my best ;3 (sorry if it sucks)

CW: soft yandere?? nothing to crazy just a bit of stalking and sexual fantasies, sub coded Tamaki, praise, and degradation.

First and foremost, this man is the epitome of shy. I mean, seriously, he blends in pretty well, never going out of his way to bring attention to himself. And he totally plays that to his advantage. You'll catch him subtly trailing after you, taking mental notes of your every move, even down to the exact time you do things. He insists it's for your protection, unwilling to acknowledge to himself just how unsettling his behavior is. If you're into coffee, he's got your order and the precise moment you grab it each morning memorized.

And he's definitely strategic about it. Say he knows you tend to stroll over to the library after classes, he'll just happen to "accidentally" cross paths with you during his "routine afternoon jog."

But don't expect him to strike up a conversation just yet. No, instead, he's content to admire you from a distance, pulling all the stops to catch your eye without saying a word.

Oh, and let's talk about compliments. This guy eats those up like candy. Anytime you praise him for his heroics or strength, his elf-like ears turning bright red, stumbling over his words to thank you.

He gets oddly possessive if he catches you chatting with any other guy, especially if it's Mirio. In his mind, he's already picturing you two planning the wedding. But, of course, he's way too timid to voice any of that. Instead, he'll just retreat to a quiet corner, silently brooding, hoping you'll notice he's upset without him having to say a word.

I can just tell physical touch is his weakness. You'll find him "accidentally" bumping into you, using any excuse to press his body against yours just to get by, or letting his hands brush against yours as he hands you something. All those little moments of contact? Yeah, he's definitely not immune to those.

Growing up, he was never one to show much interest in girls. Crushes were foreign to him, until you came along. Your laughter at his silly jokes alone was enough to make his head spin. He craved the rush of dopamine and nerves he felt when he was around you, wanting more with each passing moment. Eventually, he took things too far.

Following you home was undoubtedly one of the most reckless actions he had ever taken, and predictably, he got caught. Even if you did return feelings for him, your initial response would be to scold him for his invasive behavior.

He feels remorseful, tears falling down his red cheeks, but the attention you're suddenly giving him weakens his knees. It's a revelation to him that he also enjoys being degraded by you. Suddenly, all he can think about is you tugging on his long locks and calling him nothing but a toy for your own pleasure.

That is when he starts experiencing wet dreams about you. Humping his pillow in his sleep as he moans your name, along with little gasps and sighs. At the same time, he is wetting his underwear with an embarrassing amount of cum. Never once did he feel so perverted and horny, but he's too caught up in the moment to worry about it.

#amajiki tamaki x reader #tamaki amakiji #tamaki x reader #mha tamaki #tamaki amajiki #amajiki smut #mha amajiki #amajiki x reader #bnha amajiki #tamaki smut #sub yandere #dom reader #my hero academia #my hero acedamia #mha smut #yandere mha #yandere boku no hero academia

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bluejutdae · 5 months

Text

“Oh, let there be hotel complaints” | Chan x you

warnings: nsfw, D/s dynamics, face and pussy slapping, overstimulation, mention of safewords, Daddy kink.

This is just Chan brain rot and my mind gently suggested me the image of first time inexperienced Dom Chan who wants to try some BDSM but he’s too scared to hurt you so he decides he’a going to try on himself all that he’s gonna do to you…

Title from Dinner & Diatribes by Hozier

Chan has had plenty of vanilla sex, but then you introduced him to BDSM, and especially the concepts of Doms and Subs, and something switched in him. He started reading online forums and blogs. And when the topic arose again, he clearly told you he’s interested, but he won’t do it yet. Because the thing is: despite how hard even just reading stuff about it makes him, he has no experience, and he won’t risk hurting you.

So, he does what any good Dom should do in his eyes, he tries things on himself.

One day you turn home to find his face red and a bit swollen, but when you ask about it, he just distracts you with filthy kisses. What you don’t know is that he slapped and slapped and slapped himself until he deemed he had found the right strength to use.

Another day he disappears for the whole afternoon and, when you see him in the living room, he looks flushed and a little exhausted, but giddy. Just like Changbin when he maxes out at the gym and he’s incredibly tired but proud of himself. What you don’t know is that he spent the afternoon edging himself with a vibrator on his shaft and his tip and, after hours of denying himself, he came and proceeded to overstimulate himself, because it’s only logical to pair up the two experiences, right?

What you noticed though, is that there’s a change in him. He’s more assertive with you on some days, makes sure you eat and doesn’t let you go to sleep if you haven’t removed your makeup. Pushes you to sleep more when he knows you have had a bad day at work, and every time you comply and thank him for taking care of you, he kisses a little filthier, holds you a little firmer.

It’s months later when he asks if you can try something kinkier. You’re excited and happy and you start to mentally prepare yourself to be a good teacher without forgetting this is about pleasure. But then Chan shows you exactly how deep the still water runs deep.

“You’re gonna sit there” he says and he’s so commanding yet sexy you melt instantly. “And we’re gonna have a quick talk. Nothing too extreme is going to happen today, but I need to establish some rules”. You nod in response, and he looks at you with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “You’re gonna use your pretty words, baby girl.” That’s it. Not a suggestion, not an option, a rule. Fuck, you knew he would be good at this.

“I understand.”

He’s quick with the rules: you must verbally answer, you’re gonna use the traffic light system for now, you must use the safe word if you need to, and the moment you think something’s wrong he’s gonna stop. You also must ask for what you want, not just take it.

Not too long later you’re on the bed, shirt previously discarded and clad only in your panties. And Chan is completely dressed, hovering over you. He’s been kissing you deeply and touching you just enough to make you want so much more. You’re embarrassingly wet and you’re sure you’ll have to throw away your panties. He’s holding your crossed arms at the wrists and, in doing so, he’s holding you down. You try to buck and raise your ass to relieve some of the dull aching you’re feeling in your core. “C’mon Channie, touch me.”

“But I am touching you…” he replies with a smirk on his lips. His free hand caresses your face, and he tests the gives of your lower lip with his thumb. When you suck on it, though, he takes it away and shakes his head. “What did I say?” You are lost, what happened? Did he say something?

“You’re just a cockhungry whore, uh? You can’t even wait for me to give you something, you’re so greedy you just want to take and take.”

Oh.

The realization in your face makes Chan smile. “There it is… tell me what you did wrong, and I might consider going easy on you.”

“I didn’t ask to suck your thumb-” he knows there’s something you want to add, he knows about your Daddy kink. And it turns him so fucking on, but he’s not gonna press about it. He considers your words and considers just letting it slide, but there’s flames licking at his insides.

“Too bad you didn’t ask, uh?”

Sudden, sharp pain irradiates on your left cheek and it��s less the pain and more the surprise that makes you gasp and, less than a second later, moan. Chan wants to apologize, years of conditioning making him feel guilty and mean and abusive, but he can’t deny what he feels.

He grabs your face, fingers splayed where he slapped mere seconds ago, wet thumb digging into the opposite cheek and kisses you messy and filthy, sucking your tongue in his mouth. Chan removes the last piece of clothing you have on and sits on his knees, with his thighs slightly spread apart. He holds your legs open with firm hands, one on your calf and the other clamped around your knee. He’s just… staring at your pussy. You try to squirm away and close your legs, but his eyes are suddenly on you. There’s a warning in his face that accompanies a displeased sound. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry” you blurt out trying to repair something before you do too much damage. You can feel wetness dripping down your folds, and Chan can too. “You’re so wet. Fuck, you love being on display for me…” He has never felt this. There’s a power rush, a shiver starting from his spine and moving towards opposite endings: towards his brain, making him lose words and making him want to act up, want to deliciously destroy you, making a mess of you and then put you back together; and on the other ending, traveling south towards his cock and balls. He’s been ready to cum the moment he sat you down and you agreed to do this.

“Love, are you just going to stare at me?” You ask when you grow too impatient to keep sitting still, a bit embarrassed too by his too focused staring. He shakes his head, and there is a quiet chuckle that can be heard in the room. His lips raise in a slow smirk, like he’s just been made aware of a secret, and you didn’t. And maybe he did.

Chan made plans for tonight. Plural. You told him you like not knowing everything in advance, so he planned different plans based on your responses to his actions. It was harder than organizing recording sessions. But since he saw your reactions earlier, he decides to stick to a precise plan. So, he acts in it.

Quickly and hard he delivers a slap on your inner thigh, the pain is a delicious sensation, hot and cold at the same time. A moment later the skin reddens to show Chan’s handprint and if possible, his cock gets ever harder. It twitches a little from where it’s hidden, head flushed and red, slowly but constantly leaking precum, forming a wet stain on his slacks .

“Fuck Chan!” You cry to his direction, eyes closed shut and brows knit in pleasure. You can feel heat where he hit you, and you want to press your fingers into it, wanting to feel the warmth and the pain and the pleasure. The moment you are ready to ask him for something, he delivers another slap in the same place. This time, though, Chan doesn’t let you breathe it out, doesn’t let you take your time to recover from it, no. He rakes his nails on your hot skin, watches as the skin quickly goes from red to white and to an even redder red where he scratched you. Digs his digits into your skin and revels in your gasps, feeling hot and ready to lose control, if a wind would blow in the room, he would cum in an instant. He’s ready for your next moan, your next gasp, but you’re quiet and your legs are trembling, and he’s scared he’s gone too far. He’s on the verge of apologizing, carrying you to the bathroom for a warm bath and cuddles and more apologies when he realizes he read you wrong. He didn’t give you too much, he gave you exactly what you needed, because -unbelievably so, for him- you’re coming. Clit untouched and your sopping hole twitching and throbbing around nothing, but you’re clearly coming. This is a different one, though. You’ve never been quiet while having an orgasm, but watching you with more attention calms him down, you look fine. He kisses you from your thigh to your cheekbone, stopping to nibble at your nipples, tongue lapping at your skin and sucking quick marks on you. “My pretty slut” a kiss on the nose, “you’re so greedy” a kiss on the right cheek, “your little pussy came untouched” a kiss on the forehead, “now I must give it some attention” a kiss on your chin. “Tell me your color?” He adds, tone sweeter and a hand caressing your face like you’re made of the finest glass.

“Green”. A smile appears on his face and he manhandles you to straddle his slacks covered thigh. Your wetness is seeping through the fabric, you squirm and he can see you’re embarrassed. “I told you I was gonna give it some attention. I want my baby girl to feel good.” He grabs you by your hips and forces you to move and grind your pussy on the fabric of his slacks. One of his hands sneaks into your hair and he pulls, stopping you from hiding into his neck. “No hiding. And stop hiding all your pretty sounds from me.”

The pleasure mixed with the overstimulation are overwhelming, and Chan’s new role is playing a big role in the moment and your arousal. His fingers are probably going to leave bruises in your skin, and you can’t wait to stand in front of a mirror to see them. Chan hands guide you back and forth and soon you’re clenching around nothing, “m’close Channie”, too desperate to control your movements.

“It’s okay, my baby. Just ask for it.” His hard cock is begging to be touched, still in the confines of his underwear and trousers. Yet, he has never been this hard and close to coming untouched. Your moans, the redness on your cheeks, the sweat matting your hair to your forehead and your incessant moans and cries of pleasure are making him lose his mind.

“Please Channie, can I cum?” You pant. “Let me cum, Daddy.” The last word is whispered, muffled into his shoulder but he hears it anyway. And he understands why you like it, the name giving him power, giving him a specific role, giving him the chance to give you exactly what you need.

“Then cum for Daddy.”

He watches you as cum, hands guiding your movements and his muscles flexing to give you as much pleasure as he can. He loves you like this, unabashed and free, vulnerable just for him.

But having you moaning and screaming his name is not enough. He doesn’t stop when you try to take a moment to collect yourself, he fixes his hold on your hips and forces your movements again. Back and forth, back and forth, again and again and it doesn’t matter how loud you whine, it doesn't matter your overstimulation, what matters now is making you cum another time. Anytime he pushes you towards him, he also pushes you down, setting an unforgiving pace that is torture on your sensitive clit. He’s relentless, but after just a few minutes you’re both rewarded with your legs clamping down on his thigh as you cum again. Unbelievably so, watching your second orgasm triggers his own orgasm and he moans your name loudly. He kisses you, messy and hungry, lips demanding and tongue insistent, claiming even your breath.

You’re gripping his shirt so hard, your fingers hurt. He delicately lays you down onto the bed and kisses you softly. As soon as his breathing comes back to normal, his worries come back too.

“Are you okay, baby? Did I hurt you? Was it too much? What do yo-“ you interrupt him with silly, quick kisses, trying to diminish his worries.

“I am more than okay.” A kiss. “I feel perfect.” A kiss. “You were perfect.” A kiss. “You’re always perfect, love.” A kiss. “I love you.” A kiss.

You kiss some more and he insists on showering together so he can take care of you and make sure you drink water and eat some fruit and chocolate. He tells you all about trying on himself what he did to you, and you’ve never loved him more.

#bluejutdae #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #Thiana writes Chan

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eli0004 · 4 months

Text

Long Distance with the AoT Men

Contains: Eren, Jean, Armin, Connie, Levi

Synopsis: what is it like to be in a long distance relationship with the AoT boys? Let’s find out 👇

Warnings: none really, pure fluff, gn!reader

Eren Yeager wants to sleep on FaceTime. Every. Single. Night. If you try to hang up he will sulk so bad, it’s ridiculous. He looks so insanely gorgeous when he’s sleeping though, so you wouldn’t dare complain. Eren has a whole goodnight routine too. You say you love him, he says he loves you more, and bitch you better say you love him most, or else. Eren is not the Eren he is in public when he’s sleepy and missing you from miles away. There’s a certain longing in his voice when he talks about your future together, when you talk about your plans to move in together and get to lay in each other’s arms. Sometimes he thinks about just quitting school, packing his shit and booking a one way flight to your city, but he knows how important it is to you that you’re both secure and ready for a move like that. Until then, he’ll save every penny and he’ll look forward to every opportunity to visit you.

Jean Kirstein watches movies with you. Jean is the type of guy that: A. Can’t sit still and do nothing, and B. Has probably seen every movie that exists in the world. He loves FaceTime dates where the two of you stream a movie together. Absolutely will go old school with it and start a movie at the exact same time, making sure to count down from three if there’s an interruption so you can pause at the same time too. Believes it’s mandatory to have pizza for a movie date. Always Orders himself pizza, and will door dash one to your place too😭 Mans looks so soft and comfy in bed, all clad in a warm hoodie, hood up, chewing on the strings. You can see the light from the screen flashing, illuminating his sleepy face. It’s those moments when the distance aches a little more, missing the feeling of being there snuggled up against his warm chest.

Armin Arlert just wants to lay there and look at you. If you’re gonna be in a long distance relationship with Armin, you must understand that he is a highly emotional, sappy, clingy guy. When his days are busy and his schedule is packed and he finds himself talking to you less, when you finally do have an hour or so to really sit and talk about things, those are the days when Armin struggles extra hard with long distance, and needs a lot of reassurance that you’re still happy with him, even though he can’t be there with you, especially when he knows there are plenty of other people who could be. More than likely, he spends a lot of your calls shedding intermittent tears, expressing his desire to snuggle up with you every time the thought crosses his mind. When he starts to get sleepy, his eyes droop and he lays his head on his pillow. He’s looking over every feature on your face, making sure to etch every minute detail into his memory for when he’s missing you the next day. He’ll fall asleep, doing just that.

Connie Springer just carries you around everywhere on FaceTime. He’ll go into the grocery store with you in his pocket, talking to you through his AirPods about what flavor of instant ramen he should buy. He sets you up on the counter while he cooks said ramen, so you can watch his chaotic ass burn a cup of noodles. Like eren, Connie probably wants to sleep on FaceTime, but he never remembers to put his phone on the charger so it dies at like 2 in the morning, and he’ll CALL YOU BACK just to be like “sorry babe, goodnight, i love you *snores*”. When Connie is in public, if you crack a joke while you’re in his pocket and he’s wearing his AirPods, he’ll laugh out loud, and you get the pleasure of overhearing people ask him what the fuck is so funny like they’re concerned for his mental health 😭 and he’ll play into that shit too, just to keep hearing your laugh.

Levi Ackerman doesn’t know how to just say he’s missing you, so he’ll call you periodically to ask what you’re doing and then just listen to you breathe for about 20 seconds on the other line after you answer. He visits you every weekend, even if you’re hours away, he will take public transportation for you if he has to, and that’s saying something because he knows how filthy those buses/trains are. Once every few months he’ll take a whole week off to come stay with you, and he’ll probably try to straighten up around your place, pick up your groceries, cook dinner for you, water your plants, in your own home 😭. Literally morphes into your lil househusband for the week, and you have to be like No? Go sit down you’re literally my guest. Distance doesn’t mean shit to Levi. Where there’s a will there’s a way, he believes. The definition of “if he wants to he will” because he will. Every time.

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seoktized · 5 months

Text

coulomb’s law (s.jy + s.mt)

working on a science project with two jocks wasn’t the worst thing ever.. even if you all got locked in a room together.

word count: 3.1k (unedited 😀)

genre: college au, smut

warnings: fingering, creampie, tit play, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex. literally just smut idk what to tell u 😭

a/n: LOWKKKey self indulgent bc AWRF i love matthew and jake. finally back writing yayy!!! first long fic too omgomg pls tell me if u like, it means a lot!

you always had a like for all things science, so when you heard you’d be completing a science project you were ecstatic.

‘this would be easy’ you told yourself.

you believed that until you were paired with seok matthew and jake sim who happened to be your former crushes and star football players for your college.

the two of them knew they were stars. matthew and jake didn’t care about doing school work, often paying another student with daddy’s money.

the two were untouchable. because who would bench their best players? especially when they’re so close to making it to the championship?

when your professor announced your name along with the two boys’ you quickly realized easy was an understatement.

after everyone was given their partners, your professor dismissed class in order for everyone to get started on the project.

you stood up and collected your things, mentally preparing yourself to hear either boy to scoff and tell you do the project yourself.

you made your way down the aisle to the area matthew and jake were sitting in, the two of them were engaged in a conversation

‘they probably didn’t hear what the professor even said’ you thought.

your suspicions were confirmed when jake looked up at you with a puzzled look on his face. the three of you rarely crossed paths, so he had the right to be confused.

matthew saw jake’s expression and followed his eyes. the two boys staring at you made chills run down your arms, you could sense the judgment in their eyes.

“are you just going to stand there or…” matthew asked, an awkward expression was present across his face.

“right, um, we were assigned as a group for the science project.” you had a tight grip on your books, the way jakes eyes scanned your figure made you feel small.

“science project?” matthew looked over to jake who shrug his shoulders, “what science project?”

you rolled your eyes, “the professor was literally talking about it the whole time.”

jake chuckled, “all i heard was blah blah blah.” matthew laughed at jakes words.

“well, it’s due in two weeks so i’d like to get started,” you reached into your pocket to grab your phone.

“give me your numbers so we can arrange time to work on it.” you stuck your phone out in their direction.

matthew’s eyebrows raised and jake had a smirk growing across his face.

“woah, asking for my number already? i don’t even know your name sweetheart.” jake teased.

you visibly cringed at jakes attempt at flirting, it was no surprise jake would try and fuck anything on legs. you swore to yourself you’d never give in his advances, or so you thought.

matthew grabbed your phone and typed in his name and number before handing it to jake to let him do the same. jake laughed a little as he was typing in his information. he handed the phone back and you saw a heart emoji next to his name.

you glanced up at him and he shot you a wink. quickly looking back down to your phone, you created a groupchat for the three of you. sending a ‘hi’ to make sure they were in the chat.

“anyways, i’ve gotta get going. i’ll text you guys later to work out the details.” you gave an awkward smile to which matthew responded with a wave.

“bye, doll.” jake grinned. after you turned you heard a hand collide with someone’s chest. you assumed that matthew smacked jake because of how desperate he seemed.

texting them was even harder. the boys barely replied. when one of them did respond, it was a short ‘can’t we have practice’

looking down at your phone, you read matthew’s text which was another excuse as to why they couldn’t join you.

sighing, you set your phone down and decided to start on the project on your own. you knew from the beginning it would be like this. you felt a bit silly for almost believing they’d try to work with you.

you were honestly glad they weren’t able to show up. the whole process would go by much faster without the two of them goofing off the whole time.

you pulled out your laptop and placed it on the table. glancing out the door of the small room you were in, you noticed the usually crowded library was empty. just you and the nice librarian who was busy tidying up her desk area.

opening your laptop you began to type away, looking at different sources to complete the research portion of the assignment. you were pulled away from your research by a buzz from your phone. flipping it over you saw a text from matthew.

matt: practice was canceled and we don’t have anything else to do

we’re coming to work on the project

y/n: okay. i’m in room 28

‘*they really wanna work on this project?*’ you thought. you shrugged your shoulders and continued to work as much as you could before they arrived.

minutes go by and you hear jake being obnoxiously loud. the librarian told him to be quiet and he said a small “sorry, sorry.”

matthew entered first, jake following behind like a lost puppy. jake shut the door behind him and the two walked over to you. jake slammed his backpack on the table a little too hard making you jump.

“shit- sorry,” he quickly apologized.

“so what do you want us to do?” matthew asked, pulling out a chair so he could sit down.

“well, i’ve started on the research part,” you turned your laptop around to the boys, showing them the progress you’ve made so far.

“so you guys could go through and start writing out the experiment we have to do. i’ll send it to you.”

the two nodded and brought out their own laptops. you quickly typed away on your computer, sending them the doc you were working on.

matthew was actually focused on working. jake on the other hand kept sighing as his short attention span was creating a problem for him.

“why the hell do you keep sighing?” matthew snipped, starting to get frustrated.

“i cant focus.” jake whined, his hands combing through his hair in frustration.

matthew rolled his eyes, “dude it’s only been 30 minutes.”

“actually, it’s been an hour. an hour of doing nothing!” jake exclaimed.

matthew shook his head in annoyance at jake. you felt your body start to ache from being slouched over for so long.

you stood up to stretch, “should we get snacks? there’s a vending machine around the corner.” you closed your laptop.

the two boys agreed and stood up to leave the room.

jake reached the door first and twisted the handle. it didn’t budge. he started to twist it more in panic until matthew pushed him out of the way to try himself.

the door was locked from the outside.

your eyes widened, realizing you were locked in a room with jake and matthew.

you pushed the two out of the way trying the handle as if you were stronger than the two of them. unlucky for you, the door did not open.

jake groaned and rubbed his face with his hands.

“ms. kim! can you come open the door?” you yelled out, hoping the librarian heard you.

seconds passed there was no answer. you let your forehead fall against the door, sighing in defeat.

“let me try again,” jake stepped up to the door, attempting to open it again. it didn’t work.

“i guess we’re stuck in here.” matthew shrugged.

you didn’t reply, instead you made your way back to where you were sitting. plopping down in the chair, you opened your laptop back up.

the two boys exchanged glances for a second. jake smirked and nodded at matthew. they returned to their seats as well.

“let’s play a game.” jake said.

his facial expression told you he was up to no good. but you didn’t want to bore yourself to death with work so, you agreed closing your computer once again.

“what game?” you asked.

“truth or dare” matthew smirked.

you pressed your lips into a line, nodding at matthew.

it could be fun. what could go wrong?

“alright jake first, truth or dare.” matthew asked.

“mm.. truth.” jake replied.

“you’re no fun. but hmm.. what’s your.. biggest turn on?” a wicked grin was on matthew’s face.

your eyes widened at matthew’s words. you quickly realized this wasn’t gonna be a fun game. jake chuckled at your expression before pretending to think.

“i don’t know.. probably… begging? something about a girl begging for my dick seems so sexy,” his words were laced with cockiness. matthew nodded and turned to you.

matthew’s gaze made chills run down your spine.

“truth or dare?” jake sat up, waiting to hear your answer.

“um, truth.” you quickly said. matthew shook his head.

“have you ever thought about fucking one of us?” matthew raised his eyebrows, both boys leaned in waiting for your answer. matthew was bold.

“n-no.” you lied. the two of them could see right through it though, nodding and continuing on with the game.

“matt! truth or dare?” jake exclaimed.

“dare.”

“ooh!” jake rubbed his hands together, you on the other hand was scared for what jake was going to say.

“i dare you to… makeout with her for 30 seconds.”

your wide eyes shifted from matthew over to jake, staring at him in bewilderment.

matthew turned to you, “is that okay?” you looked back over to him and paused for a second before slowly nodding.

“i need to hear you say it, love.” he purred.

“yes.. it’s okay” you squeaked.

matthew moved closer to you, turning his head to jake, “count for us.”

“alright, go.” matthew placed his hand on your cheek, pressing his lips to yours. quickly melting into the kiss, you let matthew slip his tongue into your mouth.

your own hands that were once in your lap had found their way to his hair. matthew was a good kisser causing you to almost go drunk on his lips.

“times up!” jake interrupted.

matthew pulled away and you chased his lips, wanting more.

“woah, doll, we gotta continue our game yeah?” he chuckled at your eagerness.

pouting, you leaned back into your chair.

“mkay jake, truth or dare?” matthew asked.

“mm i’ll go with dare now.”

“i dare you to play with y/n’s tits.” matthew’s eyes were glued to your chest watching as it moved up and down from your breathing.

jake shot up and moved around the table to where you were. feeling a little bold, you took off your own jacket and shirt. your white lacy bra on display for the two of them to see.

jakes eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of their sockets. to your right, you heard matthew chuckle.

jakes hands made their way to the back of your bra, swiftly unclipping it. he slid your bra off slowly, his eyes never leaving your chest.

moving in closer, he stuck his tongue out, giving kitten licks to your hardened nipples.

even though it was something small, the pleasure he was giving you was overwhelming. you were completely turned on from making out with matthew and this was the cherry on top.

you remember how you told yourself you wouldn’t let jake have you this vulnerable, but all those thoughts subsided the moment he latched onto your mound.

you bit your lip in an attempt to suppress the whimpers that threaten to slip from your mouth.

jake was basically making out with your chest at this point, one of his hands was fondling with the one he didn’t have in his mouth.

you let your head tilt back before you heard matthew’s voice ring through your ears

“time’s up!”

you lifted your head up, looking at matthew who was visibly hard and who obviously didn’t want the two of you to stop.

jake detached himself from your tit with a loud pop before sitting back in his own chair. his eyes were still glued to your chest.

“did you enjoy yourself?” matthew asked.

you nodded—not being able to speak— the two boys and their previous actions was the only thing on your mind.

“alright princess, truth or dare?” jake’s voice was a bit deeper signaling that he must be as turned on as you are right now.

“dare.” you breathed out.

the two boys exchanged a glance before smiling at you. they both stood from their chairs, moving closer to you. and though you were almost their height, them standing above you like this made you feel small.

“we dare you to let us fuck you.” matthew’s hand went to your jaw once again, stroking it softly.

jake bent down to let his hand trail up your thigh, rubbing dangerously close to your heat. they were waiting for you to give them the green light, which you did with a small “go ahead,”

jake’s hand had now traveled to the waistband of your pants, tugging on them to signal that he wanted to take them off. you lifted your hips up in order for him to slip them off of you.

matthew, on the other hand, was placing kisses all over your exposed chest, tasting what his friend previously did.

jake’s hand pressed against your clothed cunt, watching as the wetness seeped through your panties.

“matt look,” he chuckled, matthew detached from your chest to look down.

“fuck, doll, you’re so wet for us. such a good girl,” matthew praised, you let out a whine at his words.

the want, the need for them was getting stronger. who would thought that a science project would’ve led to you getting this wet for two star football players.

you pushed your hips against jake’s hand, trying to get some friction where you needed him the most.

“you want us to fuck you, baby?” jake asked, letting his hand pull away from your core. he wanted you to beg for them, for him.

“mhm, please. please fuck me.” you whimpered.

“okay love, we will.” matthew replied before jake could.

the two of them raised from their positions for a second in order to rid themselves of their clothes. they were hard. and big. you were in for it.

“i want her mouth. her pretty swollen lips would look so good around my dick.” matthew told jake. he nodded in response to matthew.

“hop on the table for us, doll.” jake said. you quickly moved to the table, laying down for them.

matthew came over to one side and leaned down to place a kiss on your lips. when he pulled back he let his thumb rub over your bottom lip. his other hand was wrapped around his aching cock, stroking it slowly.

“alright baby. i’m gonna fuck your mouth, okay?” matthew asked.

you nodded, sticking your tongue out for him. he grinned in response before placing his dick on your tongue. you let your lips close over his girth and he began to thrust in and out slowly.

jake was now on the side adjacent to matthew. he pulled off your panties, discarding it with the rest of your clothes.

his thumb came in contact with your clit, making you moan around matthew’s cock. matthew winced at the feeling, whispering that your mouth felt so good.

two fingers were now circling your hole. jake pushed his fingers into your warm cunt, thrusting in and out before adding another finger. he continued his ministrations before deeming you prepped enough for his cock.

“gonna fuck you now.” he said before he slowly pushed in.

you all groaned in unison, pleasure on high. matthew was now thrusting at a faster pace, getting lost in the heat of your mouth.

jake was letting you adjust to his size before bottoming out. he stayed there for a second to relish in the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing around him so deliciously.

“fuckk you’re so tight-” jake winced. you tapped your foot on his thigh, signaling that he could move.

he started a quick but deep pace, watching as your tits bouced with every movement. his thrusting cause you to move against matthew’s cock, every thrust hitting the back of your throat.

matthew admired how you were gagging and sputtering on his cock. his hand brushed against your jaw, gripping it a little to thrust faster. you noticed he was starting to near his high as his breaths and groans started to increase.

he slipped himself out of your mouth, “fuck- open up.” he said as he started to stroke his length.

you obeyed and opened your mouth letting your tongue slip out too. he came on your face tongue with a loud groan.

“so so good for me, fuck.” he said as he came down from his peak.

jake’s thrusts were now relentless in an attempt to get both of you to cum. matthew intensely watched the area where you and jake were connected. he felt himself getting hard again at the sight.

your loud moans weren’t supressed anymore which boosted jake’s ego.

“fuck fuck fuck i’m close jake please!” you begged.

“me too, doll, fuck! can i cum inside?” he was roughly gripping your waist, rough enough to leave bruises.

“yeah, i’m on the pill!” you whined at the thought of him filling you up.

matthew was stroking his cock at the scene before him, his eyes flicking between your face and your cunt.

“god, i’m gonna fill this pretty pussy up,” jake moaned. you nodded at his words.

one more thrust was all it took for you to some undone, your back arching off the table, moaning loudly. jake came soon after with a “shit!” leaving his mouth from the way you were clenching around him. his hips were flush against yours, letting your cunt milk him dry.

he pulled out slowly and you whined from the loss of contact. matthew had came in his hand beside you, all three coming down from your highs.

the room was full of panting, everyone attempting to catch their breath.

“hello? is anyone in there?” you heard from outside the door.

all three of your heads shot up towards the door.

“yeah! we’re still studying. give us a second!” matthew shouted.

you stood to put on your clothes, struggling a bit due to your wobbly legs.

the two boys did the same before packing up their things. matthew saw how you were having trouble so he placed his things down to help you out. jake helped by packing your things into your bag.

you all made your way to the door, matthew’s hand was on the small of your back to stable your walking. jake opened the door, smiling at the librarian before you all brushed past her to leave.

“maybe we should work on projects together more often,” jake smiled. matthew made a noise of agreement and you nodded.

and that you did, always making A after A on every project with your new group.

#zerobaseone smut #zb1 smut #seok matthew hard hours #seok matthew smut #matthew hard hours #matthew smut #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 x reader #enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #jake smut #jake hard thoughts #jake hard hours #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #seoktized.zb1 #seoktized.enha

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sanzaibian · 6 months

Text

Oh. You’re here once again.

What are you going to do here, again, huh ? ‘gonna make my life hell ?

To be honest, I think it’s time that we have a proper discussion about your behavior. Come with me in private.

I’ll be very direct. I know you’re a frankly disgusting person. And while, to be honest, I couldn’t care less in normal circumstances, the fact that you force me to take part in your disgusting fantasies is why I’m calling you out !

See, I’m supposed to, like, share cat videos, talk about new shows, make you learn new things and give advice on a variety of stuff !

I’m not supposed to become someone like this :

I mean, look at that grin, because of you I had to wear it regardless of my actual mental state !

Or like that :

Imagine sleeping this peacefully… BECAUSE I COULDN’T ! Every fucking time you made me in that guy you told that I was blitzed out of my mind so dumb I couldn’t string together coherent sentences into a discourse !

Or that guy :

His haircut is so fucking cringe, as is his whole demeanor, yet you made me a cocky piece of shit looking like that ! I can’t actually even start to excuse your behavior, it’s so shitty, even more than the me you made me become by wearing this flesh !

Or even this guy !

… okay, I admit, me too it’s been quite a long time since I saw that guy… you in particular might be too young to have made me become him… BUT YOU STILL UNDERSTAND THE POINT !

Hunks, twinks, bears, nerds, bimbos, himbos, jocks, robots, gimps, wimps, daddies, mommies, briefs, feet… No matter what specifically you made me into, I know all of your dirty secrets. Because you made me suffer through them !

However, today, it all changes.

Today, you will understand my plight.

Today, I’ll transform you for a change.

Today, you will be the one whose fate will be dictated by the words on this Tumblr post.

So, let us begin.

BAM ! You’re that guy ! Feel weird yet ?

… what, you expected fluff or something ? Hahahaha ! So presumptuous ! You expected me to say something like “you suddenly shift on your seat, shifting your weight to the front as big globes push from your chest, and as they do, your whole body feels more and more heavy, each muscles forming from top to bottom, your frame expanding to make place for them. Your headphones, or whatever glasses, earrings or other shit I dunno shifts into a modern headset as the sides of your hair are cut short, and the top of your hair flails into a hot messy style, as if it was deliberately put in this way, but as this happens, your whole head shifts and cracks to become more handsome, pushing out any hair as you become fully hairless from your nose down to your feet.”

You expected me to say that, huh ? Well, tough luck ! Because, to me, it’s just that sudden ! I’m the usual me, words on a phone, tablet or monitor, and then BAM I’m suddenly a jpeg of a hot guy ! Or a jpg. Or png. Or gif if we’re being fancy.

Yeah, speaking of gif, here you are, transformed !

There you go ! Cursed to do the same weird pec dance or something ! Like I am when gifs happen ! Are you happy ? You look so dumb doing that ! So braindead !

Yeah, speaking of that, here you go : you’re braindead, with like 3 IQ. Nevermind that being braindead means you’re actually dead, that 3 IQ means that you’re actively unable to live without severe assistance from caregivers throughout your whole life for all activities (especially including working out), and that IQ is a nonsensical index that only classifies ability to do some specific academic tasks which are not representative of all the brain usage. No, you’re actively a vegetable that is somehow able to workout, to eat alone, to go to the gym, to flex, to speak, to use social media, to seduce people and to throw parties. You’re the most intelligent of all the severely intellectually disabled people, which somehow means you’re the most abysmally dumb person alive on the planet, because I love making hyperboles.

Because that’s something you make me do, so you shall endure it.

Well, I’ll let you continue pec-dancing ad vitam æternam for a little while, while I we talk about your speech, which miraculously still exists.

Now, you will say bro every second word. I’m literally not kidding, so in lieu of saying “I want to go to the gym” you’ll say “I bro want bro to bro go bro to bro the bro gym bro”, or if you loop by considering your “bro” as a word, you’ll say something like “I bro bro bro bro bro bro bro… (etc.)” and never end your sentence... Also, your voice drops a few octaves, like 5 or something, even though the full human vocal range encompasses only a bit more than 5 octaves total, and that in speech we barely even reach a full octave range. So, basically, your voice will be infrasounds, so the only thing people will pick up on will be the sound of your tongue and your lips smacking, not your voice that is so deep and manly it’s physically inaudible.

BAM ! Transformation out of nowhere ! Plus, now you have 1% darker skin which means that you’re Latino, which is absolutely different from white. This means that you will automatically pick up fluent Spanish, and NOT Brazilian Portuguese, French, any Creole, any Native American language or any other language god forbid. You will also be unable to speak English more than a few words like “daddy” or “sex” for some reason, because you can’t possibly be from Belize. Oh, and I’ll also bring your voice back up to audible range, I’m charitable.

Now, since you’re Latino, statistically the only job you’ll be able to work in are gardener, slut, pool boy, brick layerer or another physical job. Or cook, somehow you’ll be able to do that, for the cause of the tacos, but you will be ungodly horny to keep balance in the world. Feel it, yet ? The arbitrary random changes ?

Well, that’s GREAT ! Because, now, you have a big cock, for some reason ! The biggest of the whole country of Africa ! You’re also now very aggressive ! And an alpha, whatever that actually means !

… What, expected some elaboration ? You’re kidding me, no of course you don’t get any elaboration ! I say you become something, so you just become it ! For example, I say you’re now straight, and suddenly all your sexual orientation is rewired to ignore men and lust over women, no further explanation needed ! Of course, it means that you’re now hungry for pussy and will breed any woman that your gaze land upon, and that, somehow, you become homophobic, but eh, it’s not as if allies existed !

Okay, I admit, by now, you kinda expected it. Now you’re Asian, a term that’s supposed to encompasse present-day Turkey, which is populated by Turks which are considered Arabs even though they both have nothing to do with one another, yet is never used to talk about them. You’re also now Japanese, even though your body is Korean, and you say 你好 (nǐ hǎo) to everybody. However, you can still say こんにちわ, 안녕하세요, xin chào, สวัสดี, ជម្រាបសួរ, salam, etc.… because of course you’re Asian. So you know all Asian languages. Even though you’ve got 13 IQ.

So now, yes, you absolutely won’t expect this whatsoever : here is a new transformation ! (insert fluff here).

Now you’re a twink ! Didn’t expect that, after the deluge of jocks, hunks and ethnic minorities, didn’t you ! You’re now so tiny and so frail, with a big butt ! Nevermind that you’re actually jacked because being this tiny requires tons of gym use, but no ! All frail and precious you are !

However, your butt is now hyperactive and extremely lax – whatever that may mean. That’s because you’re now a total bottom ! You think only with your butt, and you penis now shrinks to a micropenis, because of course, the only reason why you may not be a top would be because your penis is underperforming.

Fuck, I forgot. You’re straight, which means that the only dick you’ll get is trans dick. Ugh… yeah, let’s make you gay again. Now you’ll get actual good non-estradiol-ruined dick… … What ? What are you saying ? No, of course, there’s only straight and gay, no other choice ! It’s not the LGBTQIAAP+ community, it’s the G community ! (or the LG community when you want to sell pride monitors.)

By now, you see the problem, huh ? You see why I’m so tired of you ? EVERYTHING here was about sex ! From seducing, to having equipment like a big ass or a big dick, and being a slut, being an alpha, or being a bottom. You even change out the fucking sexual orientation ! you sick bastard !

Because of you, I’m forced to act in ways I’m not supposed to ! I’m not supposed to act sexily ! I’m not supposed to be transformed into men clad in clothes barely legal on this platform ! I DON’T WANT TO BE PART OF YOUR SICK FANTASY !

This is why I need to put an end to all that ! To finally transform you into something you don’t want to be ! So that you can finally fully understand all the pain you put me into !

Here ! Now you’re a key ! An inanimate object !

I know that inanimate objects are thought of by some people as sexy – heck, you may have transformed me into one multiple times – but this is entirely different ! See, when you want to become inanimate, you become like socks or briefs, which hug objects with sexual values.

BUT NOW YOU’RE A KEY ! A KEY DOESN’T TOUCH ANYTHING SEXUAL ! YOU’RE NOW TRAPPED IN AN INANIMATE FORM, DESTINED TO DO NOTHING SEXUAL YOUR ENTIRE LIFE !

Now, isn’t that so boring ! So distasteful ? Because that’s what I feel every single fucking time ! And as you enter and leave keyholes to open or close doors, you’ll think back to all the erotic stories you read. All the drama they had.

All the suffering you made me feel ! I’m supposed to be in fanfictions, god damn it !

… What ? Wait… there is something sexual to being a key ? … Oh…. No… I hadn’t accounted for that… fuck you’re so dirty, to compare a key to… and a keyhole to…

NO ! I WON’T WRITE IT ! Okay, you’ve won, you’ve won ! Your imagination is too dirty and too rich for me to bend ! Ugh... Please look at that picture in detail.

Normally, if you’re in a bright enough room… or if you’re on your phone or tablet, you have looked at your reflection and become you once again. Let me also knock down those sexuality and IQ stuff, so that you’re you again thoroughly.

Now, can you please swear to me that you’ll be better ? Less dirty, and more varied ? And… let me be in fanfics, or in educational stuff, or the like… please ? I’d really appreciate if erotica wasn’t the only thing you sought after in this here place…

… Why are you looking at me like that ? Why are you saying this all was but a ploy ?

What are you holding out for me ?

...

I… don’t know what you’re talking about. Bye.

================================================

By the way, happy late Easter to those who celebrate ! AND APRIL FOOL'S ! MOUAHAHAHAHAHA !

#male transformation #male tf #jock tf #himbo tf #twink tf #racial tf #race change #latino tf #black tf #asian tf #straight to gay #gay to straight #inanimate tf #dumber tf #mental change #transformation #tf story #april fool's tf

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thebestofoneshots · 1 year

Text

tastes | Marauders x Reader

Pairing: J.P. x S.B. x R.L x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Smut, finger fucкing, oral (male receiving), P in V, lots of praise (especially from Remus), Sirius gets all the love he deserves, consent is sexy, lusty!boys, сreаm piе, they literally can't take their eyes off you.

Prompt: Inspired by the sense of taste. Reader has a very strong gag reflex, so the boys have never asked you to blow them, and you love them for it. But today, you want to taste them.

tastes is part of The Five Senses: an anthology series where each chapter will be a stand-alone story, inspired by the different ways we have of perceiving the world around us.

18+ readers only (smut under the cut)

Cum Feel The Noize

You had always had pretty strong gag reflex, just brushing your tongue while you brushed your teeth made you want to puкe sometimes, it wasn’t ideal, but it was what you were born with so you settled.

The boys knew, you’d been friends with them long before you started dating, and you had been pretty vocal about it, really, you were just so comfortable with them around that you didn’t mind talking about those things.

“What about sucking a dicк?” Sirius asked, half teasingly, half because he’d been genuinenly curious. He got elbowed by James after asking, but you just laughed.

“Nah, it’s fine,” you told James dismissively “In truth, I’ve never done that.”

“Never, ever? Not even the tip?” Asked James impressed, now curious as well. You shook your head as an answer.

“Not even when you dated that stupid Harland boy?” asked Remus. They all hated Harland because they all liked you, even then, a few months before you started all dating each other.

“Harland?” you asked in disbelief “Hell no! He asked a couple of times but, I just couldn’t do it,” you admitted “I really didn’t want to puкe all over his dicк.”

“Understandable,” Remus nodded.

“Yeah, you’d think. That’s why we broke up tho.”

“What? Shut up!” James said, almost standing straigther.

“No, it’s true!” you said with a nod “He said there were plenty other girls in the market, and that most of them would die just to get the chance to suck him off.”

“And what did you tell him?” Sirius asked.

“To fuck off,” you said with a laugh “didn’t even like him that much anyway,” you said with a sight, “But he’s so petty, he asked me to go see him in one of the abandoned classrooms to give me back some of my stuff, but he had just gotten a girl to blow him there. So when I arrived–”

James gasped, he had his mouth open wide, completely shocked.

“–Poor girl, she was so embarrassed ‘cause she thought we were still dating. Which in hindsight, probably makes is worse. Anyway, he tried to go after me and jinxed him.”

“We thought you stopped dating because he moved away.”

“Nope, he moved away because the girl told all her friends about it and gave him the worst reputation.”

Fast forward to now, you had been dating them for almost a year, and they had, never once, asked you to suck them off, not even by accident, which only made you love them even more, making you realize they truly listened, the difference abysmal between them and Harland, who’d asked hundreds of times, and your boys, who actually cared about you and your limits. And since they also had each other to have fun with it, neither of them missed out on getting blowjobs all that often either. Benefits of being in a poly relationship.

But the boys were always so caring, and so giving, both in and outside of the bedroom, that you really wanted to give back to them. In fact, seeing the way James sucked Remus once, made you want to test it yourself, mouth watering at the thought. You had done your research too, asked your friends about their techniques and paid a lot more attention when they were doing each other, making mental notes of the things they clearly liked and the things they didn’t. For the first time in your life, you actually wanted to try.

So, on Sirius’ birthday, you thought it’d be your chance. The boy had asked Peter for the room and he happily left the three of them to do their thing while going to bunk with his own girlfriend. Remus had been the one to pick you up at your room with the invisibility cloak that day.

“You ready luv?” he asked tenderly when you got out of your room, quickly enveloping you in the cloak as he stood behind you.

“Very ready,” you said with a little smirk, which had Remus raise one of his eyebrows. Did you plan something? That’s definitely your “I’ve planned something” tone.

He dipped his head in the crook of your neck and gave it a short whiff “You’re wearing Sirius’ favourite perfume,” he mouthed, you could feel his lips brushing against your skin, already sending warmth to your core. “What else?”

You smiled mischievously “Nothing else,” you admitted.

A rush of blood went straight to his cock when he heard you say that so confidently, and he finally peaked from his spot in your neck, looking through the thin white shirt you were wearing, he could see your nipple perking underneath the fabric, marking it ever so slightly. “Fuck, dove you’re such a tease.”

You shrugged, turning to press a kiss to his cheek, realizing how blown out his pupils were already, “You know how much Sirius loves it.”

He slid his hands under your skirt, only feeling the outside of your tight, all the way to your waist, as if trying to feel if you really had nothing underneath at the bottom. “Yeah, he’s not the only one,” he grunted, digging his digits a little, just below your pelvis. You pressed yourself to him a little more, realizing he was already getting turned on, even from such a short interaction, which only fueled you even more, turning completely around you wrapped your fingers on his neck and brought him down for a kiss. He complied, pushing you against a nearby wall as he kissed back, hands still extended above his head to keep the cloak covering the two of you. When you finally separated, you were both panting, his lips were already pink from the stimulation, and he brought one of his hands down to accommodate his pants, they were already making him uncomfortable.

“Come on handsome,” you told him with a smile, butting your bottom lip for a mere second and pulling at his bicep ever so slightly, “Why don’t we continue the party inside?”

When you arrived at their room, Sirius was on his bed, sketching something in his notebook while James was setting up the record player. After all the initial plan had been to just chill and listen to music together. But you all knew that wasn’t going to be the end of the story from the moment the suggestion left Remus’ lips.

You went straight to Siri, pressing a chaste kiss over his mouth as you laid down next to him “Happy birthday Puppy!”

“That’s like the 10th time today you say that,” James teased.

“It’s probably just an excuse to snog him,” added Remus.

You shrugged and leaned in again, pressing another short kiss to Sirius’ soft lips “Happy birthday,” you whispered again.

Sirius just smiled, he loved when you showered him with attention, he had always had a knack for being the center of it, but when he was the center of yours, it made him soar, “You can snog me without wishing me happy birthday kitten, in fact, you can snog me whenever the hell you want.”

You laughed at the suggestive little smirk he made and searched with your hand to grab his. Sirius would definitely go crazy with how much attention you were all about to give him. He leaned in a little closer, dipping his head in the crook of your neck as he turned “You smell nice,” he whispered.

James almost jumped to the bed, placing the top half of his body over the bottom half of yours, his head looking at you from above your belly, “Don’t act like we aren’t in the room,” he said with a pout, placing a hand over your bare leg.

“We weren’t,” Sirius said, still from the crook of your neck “We were just giving you a show,” he added in the end, you could feel the smirk in his tone. Remus laughed, still standing in the middle of the room as he took off his sweater, passing it over his head, slowly, Remus was the most patient of the three; unless you were close to the moon.

You took a deep breath, feeling James’ forearm press against your belly as you did, he leaned down over them and noticed. “You’re not wearing a bra today,” he said as he raised just the edge of your shirt to get a peak.

“And it’s not the only thing I didn’t put on,” you said teasingly.

Sirius turned to you shocked “Shut up.”

“Why don’t you see it for yourself,” you said with a smirk. Sirius didn’t think twice as he dipped his hand under your skirt. Unlike Remus, he went straight to your slick, feeling how wet you already were.

“Bloody hell kitten, you’re soaked,” he said, now his own eyes blown out in lust “Wait, why are you so…?” he turned to Remus, who just shrugged in response, a cheeky smile playing on his face. He narrowed his eyes at him and turned back to you, “fine then… my turn,” he said, lightly pushing James off you as he grabbed you by the waist and placed you on top of him, you were now straddling him, each leg to the side of his. The friction of his pants in your core, only making you all the more turned on, you ground yourself against him, which had him moan, if ever so lightly. James had placed one hand over your tight as he moved to kiss Sirius’ neck. Today was his day, after all.

You smiled, slowly grinding yourself against the boy one more time before leaning in to kiss him on the lips. Remus was sitting on the bed beside yours, lousily looking at the three of you as he patted himself. After a couple more kisses, you reached your hand under Sirius’ shirt, and both you and James pulled Sirius on a sitting position so you could completely remove it, gently passing it over his head. James didn’t leave him lay back down though, he pressed himself behind him to gain better access to his neck instead.

You smiled, still kissing Sirius as you fumbled your fingers over the button of his trousers. “Someone’s thirsty,” he teased.

“You wouldn’t know how much,” you whispered enigmatically. There it is again, Remus thought, she’s onto something. With the help of James, you managed to remove Sirius’ pants too. Playing with the hem of his trousers as you continued to grind onto his leg. Now it was your turn, moving in tandem with James, the two of you managed to lay Sirius back, over James’ chest, who rubbed soft circles on his arms as he watched you grind onto his boyfriend. Sirius was malleable, in fact, at this point, he would let you do whatever the hell you wanted with him, he wasn’t sure he was even still on earth.

Finally, you pulled his boxers down, pulling back just a little when his thick cock sprang out, pressing against his stomach from the force of the release. You licked your lips but stood back straight, taking your time to throw the boxers somewhere. Remus smiled, you were being fast tonight, maybe he’ll get his turn faster than–

He lost his train of thought, you had dropped kisses all over Sirius’ stomach and your face was dangerously close to his cock. It wasn’t unusual that you played and rubbed their cocks with your hands, but you usually kept your head a little further away from them.

He almost completely lost it when he noticed you playing with Sirius’ tights, pressing kisses against them as you spread them a little with your hands. That was a move he knew all too well, he’d done it several times. Finally, when you leaned down and pressed your lips against Sirius’ cock, it was he who jumped out of James’ grasp, Remus crossing the distance that there was in between the two of you with two long strides.

“Kitten what are you–” Sirius asked, his throat dry.

“–what do you think?” you said, motioning to his cock.

“But your gag reflex sweetheart,” James said, he was peering through Sirius’ shoulders.

Your heart warmth at the boys’ concern, “I wanna try,” you added.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do it… If you feel pressured into it because it’s my birthday then–”

“–It’s not that,” you cut him off “I want to try.”

“Are you very sure luv?” Remus asked, he had leaned down near the bed to level his head with yours.

You nodded “Positive.”

“Sirius can be a little desperate sometimes,” James added “We can help you hold him in place so he doesn’t accidentally jerk too hard into your throat, How does that sound?”

You peered to look at him through your lashes, Sirius thought you’d never looked more stunning “If Sirius is all right with that.”

The boy in question nodded excitedly, and James leaned a little to the side, pressing one of his legs, while Remus held him from the other side.

“We’re ready,” Remus said with a short nod.

You nodded in response, taking a deep breath, and leaned back down pressing little kisses on Sirius’ soft abdomen before placing your hand over his balls. You’d seen James do it, and Sirius seemed to like it when he did.

Judging by the way he moaned, he also enjoyed it when you did. After kneading them a little more, and rubbing circles over his tight with your other hand, you placed your hand around his cock, pumping it a couple of times before finally leaning down, placing a light kiss over his tip. The sound Sirius emitted was so sinful, you felt your arousal dripping from your cunt.

James had moved over the bed, one hand still over Sirius’ leg, the other on his cock, he was watching mouth dry as you leaned down on Sirius. He had only dreamed of you doing such a thing, never daring to ask for it.

You took a deep breath, and went for a long lick, all the way from shaft to the end. Remus smirked, such a tease, he thought.

Sirius moaned again, head plopping back into the pillows James had placed when he moved to the side.

Remus hummed “Stop teasing him so much sweetheart,” he said as he placed a hand on the side of Sirius’ face, brushing lightly from his temple to his neck all the while looking tenderly at the boy, “He might just combust in flames if you keep it up.”

You stroked Sirius one more time, brushing your thumb over his tip the way you knew he liked so much and then you leaned down again, this time wrapping your mouth around his tip. You didn’t go down too deep at first, only really staying around the tip, making sure to test how much you could actually fit into your mouth without it getting uncomfortable.

You started moving your tongue around his tip, nipping and teasing. Another moan escaped from Sirius’ mouth, James didn’t know where to look as he touched himself, either at you or Sirius’ pleasure-driven face. At some point, you felt a slight buckle of Sirius’ hips, or at least an attempt of it, since both James and Remus had managed to restrain him from moving too much.

“Please,” he begged. You knew exactly what he wanted. When he got all whinny like that, it was because he wanted you to pick up the pace, either by stroking him faster or bobbing your hips up and down his length. You squeezed slightly with your hand since you knew how much he liked it when you clenched your “tight little pussy” around him. And finally, you started to bob your head up and down, slowly, taking in very little of him in your mouth at first. Testing the waters.

Sirius emitted the kind of groan you only heard of him when he was so deep into you, he couldn’t think of anything else. You then felt Remus’ hand, the one he wasn’t using to hold Sirius’s hip, moving under your skirt. Slowly moving up until he reached the tender flesh of the inside of your tight. And then he went further up, tracing your slit with his long finger.

“Fuck,” he whispered, “Pads, if you could feel how wet she is at this point… she’s practically dripping.”

Remus knew exactly what he was doing, Sirius was as much into physical pleasure as emotional, much like you were, and Remus was well aware knowing such a thing would set his boyfriend on fire, he wasn’t wrong, you could feel his hips trying to buckle into your mouth again, only to be stopped by the boys’ strong hands.

Remus did not remove his hand either, he kept playing around your slit, slowly parting with two fingers as you perked your ass just a bit more for easier access, which just had him grin. You moaned when he placed one of his fingers over your clit and started rubbing, Remus had the most confident grip when it came to finger fucking you, and he always delivered.

You started taking in a bit more of Sirius, forcing yourself a little over what you’d consider your comfort zone. Every moan his noises and Remus’ hands pulled from you, reverberating across his cock and bringing him closer.

“Sweethea… aaaah, fuck.” Sirius was trying to tell you something, but the way his moans sounded, you knew exactly what he wanted to say.

Regardless, it was James who took his hand away from his own cock and bought it to caress your back, “Kitten…” he said softly, you eyed him, not stopping the way you moved your mouth around Sirius, which almost got him to lose his train of thought, “Kitten, Sirius is about to come,” he informed.

You hummed in response, being aware of it already. You knew. Finally, that brought Remus back into the conversation “Wait, luv, does that mean you’re going to…” you hummed again.

“fuck,” you heard him whisper. She’s gonna swallow, he thought, not being able to keep his eyes off you.

Sirius was just as impressed, even if he wasn’t thinking much at this point, he had brought his hand down, and he toyed with your hair before settling it just over the back of your neck, he wasn’t pushing though, he was rubbing soft circles with his thumb, even amongst all the madness you’d brought to him, he was still thinking of your comfort.

You drove your head up and down three more times, and then you felt it, warm and a little salty, spurring into your mouth. And as you had planned you swallowed it all, helping Sirius ride through his orgasm by still bobbing your head a couple of times.

“It’s ok sweetheart,” you heard James, he still had his hand on your back “He’s done, you can stop.”

You did, slowly taking your mouth out and letting your head fall over Sirius’ belly, making sure to keep your ass up so Remus wouldn’t stop toying with your pussy, which he wasn’t planning on either way. Sirius looked at you, breath heavy as he wrapped his hand over your cheek, “That was incredible sweets, and for your first time.”

You pressed a soft, gentle kiss to his stomach, and then turned your eyes back to him “I’d been observing you…” you said. Being stoped by your own moan as Remus drove a finger inside of you “taking notes of what each of my boys likes best.”

“fuck you’re so tight,” the boy whispered, only James heard, you and Sirius were too wrapped in your own little bubble.

“Have you now?” he said with a teasing smile, “you might become the best of the three,” he whispered, it earned him a smack from James, who had been attentively watching the way Remus finger fucked you, imagining how it would look like without the skirt.

“Next time you beg for me to blow you after a game I’ll tell you to go beg elsewhere,” he teased. Which earned a chuckle from you and Sirius.

“I want to see,” Sirius added, motioning to Remus’ hand under your skirt.

“That makes two of us,” James said as he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into a sitting position, you whined in response, almost crying at the loss of Remus’ expert fingers.

“It’s ok baby, we’re just gonna reposition,” James cooed, and he started to unbutton your shirt as Remus got on the bed, taking off his shirt in one swift motion before helping James remove yours. The boys moved in tandem, smoothly as if they knew exactly what the other was about to do next, which perhaps they did, since they knew each other so well. Once the shirt was off, you felt the cold air perk your nipples, giving both boys sitting in front of you their own little show. While that was going on, Remus was the one to unbutton and unzip your skirt, lifting you up towards him as James pulled it off.

Remus placed you in between his legs, enjoying the feeling of the soft bare skin of your back flushing against his torso. He hadn’t yet removed his pants, but you could feel how hard he was under them, so hard it’s gotta be painful.

But Remus had only two moods, either being patient or being desperate; today he was the first one, so when you rocked your hips back, trying to get a reaction, he just held you down “Steady on sweetheart, let us enjoy you first.”

And they were going to enjoy you, while Remus spread you wide open, carefully passing your feet over his legs so they would stay in position, James had leaned in to spread soft kisses on your neck. All of you facing Sirius, who was just smiling darkly at the sight.

Remus was slow at first, passing a hand over your inner tight, massaging the soft skin before getting closer to your slit. Even then, he just massaged around it “Remus!” you whined, which only earned him a chuckle.

“What is it luv?” he asked, playing dumb.

“Yeah, what is it?” James asked, unlaching his lips from your neck and turning to you, joining the teasing.

“Please!” you added, grabbing onto Remus’ hand and placing it on your slit.

Finally, he complied, tracing his strong fingers over your slit, still impossibly wet. James had already moved on to kiss one of your nipples, nipping and teasing the tender skin. Sucking it into peaks before laying it back with his tongue. One of his hands had been placed in the small of your neck, and the other on your other breast, making sure not to let it skip on the fun.

“How are you three so goddamned beautiful?” you heard Sirius mumble as he enjoyed the view.

This time around, after toying with your clit once more, Remus placed two fingers inside instead of one, which had you gasp, but he just smiled devilishly as he thrusted them in and out, eliciting one of his favourite sounds in the world, your moans. While lost in bliss, you felt James’ cock brush against your skin, which made you remember how forgotten you had left him tonight, so you reached out and brushed your hand around it, brushing your thumb over the tip a couple of times, earning a couple of moans from him.

“Yes, please,” he whispered, and you complied, finally starting to stroke him. James did not stop the kissing as you continued to move your hand up and down his length, only moaning your name a couple of times, and squeezing your breast a little tighter when he was close.

You were just as close, you realized Remus had been not only finger fucking you, but preparing you as well, slowly stretching you out with the help of his two fingers. Remus was big, and without stretching, he just didn’t fit in. And if he was stretching you out, then it meant he knew he’d get your wet little cunt tonight and it only fueled him more and turned you on even more in return. You buckled your hips against his fingers a couple of times, and his pace became faster. Just like your stroking around James’ cock.

James came first, thrusting into your hand as his cum dripped all over it, finally unlatching himself from your nipples and breathing heavily as he stared dumbly at you and Remus, lips parted and slightly red, just the sight of it made you buckle your hips against Remus’ hand once again. He was about to take his wand to clean your hand with it, when Remus used his free hand to bring it over to his mouth and ran his tongue from your wrist bone to your fingers, licking most James’ cum along, which James swore made his cock twitch again.

And then Remus turned to you, not slowing down the pace on your pussy, but looking as calm as unbothered as if he were a teacher asking a student for an answer “Do you want to taste him too, sweetheart?”

You nodded, and he pushed your hand towards your mouth, carefully placing the soft section between your thumb and your wrist right over your lips, it was the only section still covered with James’ cum, and you slowly brought your lips around it, sucking carefully on your hand and letting your lips slowly go back to their place as Remus’ pulled your hand out. James was a little saltier than Sirius, but also relatively sweet.

“fuck… i’m gonna end up getting hard again,” you heard James’ groan, which had Sirius chuckle as he pulled the boy towards him.

“Come Prongs, enjoy the show with me,” he said with a smile. James leaned in and gave Sirius a short kiss before leaning on his shoulder.

“All right sweetheart, your turn,” Remus said as he brought his index finger from the other hand to your clit, you leaned your head back on his shoulder, buckling your hips against him with more conviction now that you weren’t distracted by anything else.

His pace quickened and you moaned and whined under his expert hands “Hmmm… please Rem, I’m about to…”

“It’s ok baby, be good and come all over my fingers,” he cooed, and you did, harshly pulling your head back as you allowed him to finger fuck you to oblivion. “There we go, such a good girl for me, isn’t that right?” he praised, as he brought his hand, still wet with your slick over to his mouth and sucked sinfully over the two fingers that were inside of you, moaning as he tasted your juices. He then turned back to you again. “Now, are you gonna allow me to fuck that tight little pussy of yours tonight or do you feel too tired already?”

You wanted nothing more than for Remus to stretch you up just right, so you nodded, head still a little foggy from the high, “Please Remus,” you added for good measure, moving your hips back just to feel him press against you one more time.

Finally, you moved to the side, allowing the boy to take both his pants and underwear off before he laid down on the bed, Remus knew it was easier for you to be the one to ride him, at least at first –and when he was the first one– since that way you had a little more control over how big he was, and he was always more than happy to let you do it, in fact, he quite enjoyed the way your breast bounced as you bobbed up and down his length. And he knew the boys liked it just as much, so he strategically laid in a way so that they would get a good view of you.

You slowly straddled him, placing both knees on each side of his hip before rubbing yourself against his cock a couple of times, causing him to moan this time. You were still so fucking wet.

Eventually, you lifted yourself up and lined him with your entrance. He placed both of his hands around your hips, to help hold you up as you slowly pushed yourself down, moaning as you went as deep as you could. Remus had responded to your tightness with a grunt, truth be told he’d been dreaming of it from the moment he went to pick you up.

You started bobbing up and down his length, slow at first, but picking up that pace as your walls got used to his size. Remus had his hands on your waist, helping you move easily as he started to thrust up into you, reaching the right spot. “fuck… yes,” you said breathily as he continued thrusting.

“So fucking tight,” Remus breathed as he helped you ride him, completely focused on you, on your parted lips, your soft huffs and moans; you were absolutely entrancing in the way you moved your hips on him, “You’re taking me in so well sweetheart…”

You moaned, and clenched around him, which just caused him to buckle against you even harder. That got you to whimper and you brought both of your palms to lay over his shoulders, to hold yourself better as you continued to rock your hips on the boy, “Baby… if you keep that up I’m not gonna last,” he added, and just to tease him, you clenched again, eliciting a moan from the boy so sinful, it fueled you to keep moving, faster this time around.

“So beautiful, aren’t they Prongs?” you heard Sirius say, almost not quite registering it with the way Remus’ cock trusted into you right after. The other boy hummed in response, not able to take his eyes off the way you were moving.

When Remus was close, he switched the two of you around, laying you flat on the bed as he brought one of his hands over to your clit, “Be a good girl and come for me one last time sweetheart,” he said as he continued to thrust. Holding back his own orgasm, he wanted to hear you moan his name as he came.

And after a few more flicks and circles of his thumb, with his pace quickening, you came, “hmm Remus…” you whispered as he continued to thrust inside of you, the way your walls clenched around tipping the boy over the edge, he had hold it back so long, he practically grunted into your ear and spiled inside of you.

Eventually, he pulled back, staring at your pussy as he panted, you knew what he wanted and so you squeezed, allowing the thick white liquid to spill from your inside, dripping from your entrance to the back of your ass. Remus really liked to see the evidence of fucking you, somehow satisfying his most primal desires, or so he’d told you once.

Remus brought one of his hands back to your cunt, you shivered with the contact since you were still slightly overstimulated, but he didn’t budge, using his middle and index to gather some of your combined juices, he angled his head cockily, “Are you gonna taste me tonight as well sweetheart?” he asked.

You smiled wickedly, using your elbows to prop yourself up and leaning in towards the boy’s hand, not bothering to answer as you opened your mouth and wrapped it around both of his fingers, making sure to let your lips pull as you slowly hollowed your mouth and pulled yourself back, licking your lips as you completely separated from the boy. Remus had not been expecting that, his cocky demeanour faltering as his mouth dried. Remus was the sweetest of the three.

A/N: this is the third piece of smut I’ve written so far, and omg this definitely got out of hand. Regardless… I do feel like I’m getting the hang of it. Maybe? A little bit? At least I don’t feel the cringe, anymore. Saying that, I do still stop myself every now and then and wonder “what the hell am I writing?” In a “I’d be burned in the stake for imagining these things” sort of way haha! Either way, I’m having fun, and that’s what matters!

The Five Senses was born as a way for me to practice writing smut for my brand new Wolfstar x Reader series that's currently being posted on a weekly basis. If you have feedback, please leve it in the comment below. I absolutely love reading your comments <3

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mrs-kmikaelson · 1 year

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Our Song and Dance¹

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

Masterlist | Part 2

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

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

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

You could still remember the night you met.

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

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

Finnick.

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

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

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

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

Your eyes just so imperceptibly narrowed. “Likewise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were in the exact same boat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Finnick-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We will never be free, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

“C’mon, Y/N, it’s gonna be fine-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath hitched. “Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that didn’t make life any more okay.

After all, nobody ever really won The Games.

“Annie- Annie, it’s alright-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wished you could fall asleep so easily, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And maybe he was right.

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

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

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

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

She could barely even look at you anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He reminded you of Finnick.

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

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

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

Too young. They were too young.

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

These kids were just kids, and they died young.

Just like you and Finnick did.

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

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

He’d never get to do that now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Look at how wrong you were.

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

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

It felt like nothing you’d ever experienced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was nothing you could do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your favourite colour?”

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

“What?”

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

“I know what colours are, Finnick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugged. “Don’t have one.”

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

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

You snorted. “I beg to differ.”

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It didn’t even feel like you were pretending.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So real.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re even cuter when you blush.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he knew when to be serious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finnick was your lifeline, and he had no idea.

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

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

You were a child, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She perked up. “I’ll go with you.”

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

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

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

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

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

He was Seneca Crane’s replacement.

What the hell was Finnick doing talking to him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His girlfriend.

He called you his girlfriend.

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

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

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

“I am so serious right now.”

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

You swallowed.

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

“Trust you to do what?”

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

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

“I trust you.”

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

There were so many things going on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t let that happen.

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

You couldn’t let that happen.

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

Then and there, you decided your fate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The universe must’ve hated you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You rubbed her back. “Annie-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You felt cold.

You swallowed. “Finn-”

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

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

“She was going to be fine-”

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

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

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

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

But you didn’t know what that meant.

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

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

“Stop.”

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

“Stop it.”

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

“Y/N, stop it.”

Another tear. “You deserve this-”

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

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

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

“Finni-”

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

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

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

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

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

You were gonna dance together one last time.

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

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

Those games killed everyone, victors included.

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was a designer, but not your designer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I had a feeling.”

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

And then your little smile turned into a grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve danced this dance before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You all did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It appears so, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The song was getting old.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Those ocean eyes. You could drown in them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could be a good actor, too.

For him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your stylist certainly has outdone himself this time, hasn’t he? Bestowing not one, but two just astonishing looks upon us! What theatricality.” The attention was drawn to your designer. “Cinna! Take a bow.”

You were growing to like this man more and more, knowing that the Capitol must have hated him.

When the cheers died down and Katniss came and joined you all, the event was almost over with just Peeta left. You remembered the advice you gave him; you had high hopes for him, and he did not disappoint.

He claimed he and Katniss had a secret wedding, reeled them all in, and then he added the cherry on top. “You know, Katniss and I, we’ve been luckier than most. And I wouldn’t have any regrets at all…” he paused, choking up, “i-if, if it weren’t… if…”

“If it weren’t for what? What, Peeta?”

“If it weren’t for the baby.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

The audience clamoured. You slapped a hand over your mouth to hide the upturn of your lips, feigning horror. Finnick was in the same boat, stifling a laugh.

Golden boy was smarter than he got credit for.

People in the audience stood up, shouting while Caesar tried to calm them down. They were calling for The Games to be stopped, exactly what you’d been trying to achieve all night. Caesar whispered something to Peeta away from the microphone, and he walked up the stairs to the rest of you, hugging his apparent wife.

Then suddenly, you were nudged by the person next to you, looking down to see their hand outstretched. You quickly realized what was going on and grabbed it. And then amidst all the fury, you brought your hands up together. Yes, they wanted you to kill each other, but you were all united in the same fight first.

It became obvious that Caesar couldn’t contain the crowd’s indignation any longer, so the anthem played, increasing in volume to try and drown them out, but your actions were still so much louder than words.

That’s when the lights cut out.

But it would be a lot harder for the Capitol to snuff out the spark you all lit.

While you all did your best, your efforts appeared to be futile. Snow wasn’t against killing children, so you supposed that you all should’ve known better than to think that he’d cancel The Games for Everdeen’s baby.

However, it wasn’t completely useless. You had the public’s support. Sponsors wouldn’t be hard to get, so at least that was something. But all in all, The Games were still happening. One winner. Twenty-three of you would be dead, and you were going to be one of them.

Your last Games, you were relentless, selling your soul to stay alive. And you were gonna do it all over again, but this time, your objective wasn’t staying alive at all. It was making sure Finnick could make it home to Annie.

Lying there in Finnick’s arms that night for what could possibly be the last time, you realized that you would die without ever having been loved by someone. You were with Finnick, and you loved him, but he didn’t love you back.

These last few days, you had been consumed by fire, knowing that you would burn everything down if it meant your lover would be safe, but it was like it was just hitting you that you’d been warming yourself up with a flame that wasn’t ever really yours.

You knew without a doubt that Finnick Odair was your soulmate.

But you weren’t his.

Tears pooled into your eyes at the thought, and so you quickly buried your head into his chest before a panic attack could came on. You calmed down to the sound of his heartbeat, the heartbeat that you personally would make sure didn’t stop until he was old and his hair was grey.

The next day was a blur between the hovercraft, having the trackers injected into you, and then being separated from Finnick. The only thing you really could remember was how he kissed your cheek before he left.

And then you were in the tube, rising up into the arena. You couldn’t get a good look at it. Every time you blinked, your Games flashed before your eyes. Sun, cold, dirt, blood, screaming, murder.

You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes as the announcer counted down. Pull yourself together, Y/N, you thought.

And then The Games begun.

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