#you could be twelve and living your life and i would still wonder if i could grow up to be like you someday

[deadsetobsessions]

Hera stood, waiting for her turn at last. The Queen of the Greek Pantheon traced the lines of neon green, its light reflecting against her true form in a soothing way. She’s no stranger to patience, to waiting. But there were little of those that had the gall to make her wait, and even smaller of that number that she would tolerate such behavior. Regardless, this was the one being she could not afford to offend and so, she waits. Her many forms, her divine self, perceived the room and compared it to her own halls of residence.

Olympus was much more intricate, carved of noble marble and inlaid with countless of priceless metals and gems and divinity. Twelve seats of power atop an engineering wonder, halls adorned with the brightest of the original flames, an hearth that was roaring at Hesta’s skillful hands.

In comparison, this throne room had been changed much since she was last here. Gone were the spikes of terror and screams of the damned. Now… it looked like the most bare throne room she’d ever bore witness to.

And yet, as she waited for the Boy King, Hera could feel the subtle thrum of impossible power. The new king did not flare his will and might like the previous tyrant, and for that, Hera approved. She has had quite enough of living with and under tyrants who cared only for themselves… and their bed achievements whilst failing spectacularly in their marital roles. Zeus was not a good life partner and Hera regretted ever saying yes to him many times in her immortal life. And yet… she loved him still.

The doors opened, and a small figure floated in, flanked by the previous King’s Knight. Perhaps that is what makes this Boy King so dangerous, Hera thought as she dipped into a bow, because he can turn the loyalest to his side.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted, in ghost speak.

“Heya, Hera!” The Boy King greeted her back, before waving the Knight away. Hera marveled, a bit, at the sheer confidence he had to dismiss his knight in her presence. Even the last king kept the knights around to ensure his power was always in display, always unchallengeable. The Boy King could destroy her with a snap of a finger and he knows it. He knows that she knows it.

“What did you need?” The Boy King asked, grin still on place as he floated to her instead of seating himself on his throne. Hera masked the bit of confusion she felt in pursuit of her goal.

“I have come here to ask of you a favor,” she began. “I am aware that… you are fond of this, the earth in which I reside in?”

Hera carefully picked her word. Everybody knows that the new King Phantom had laid claim to not only the Infinite Realms as is normal of his station, but an entire Earth as his haunt. He had the power to do so, she could finally see, now that she was standing before him. It would not do for Hera to get her strings cut because she claimed what is his.

“Sure. Why?” The Boy King tilted his head, narrowing that predator green upon her true form.

“Do you know of the Justice League, my lord?”

“Phantom’s fine,” he waved a hand. “And yeah, sure do! Why?”

Hera tilted her many forms in acknowledgement of the command. She bowed.

“My daughter, of a sort, is Diana Prince. Wonder Woman. She is… in grave danger. We can not exert our influence over a land that does not have our history. I can not interfere and aid her.”

“Oh, you want me to help her?” His tone was exasperated, and Hera spoke even more carefully in fear of offending him.

“Yes, if it pleases you. And it would be most gracious of you should Your Majesty have time to watch over her. I fear the danger will not leave her so quickly.”

There was a brief period of silence before King Phantom sighed. “And if it does not please me to do so?”

Hera looked up and locked gazes with evaluating green. “Then I am afraid I will be breaking a fair bit of cosmic law, King Phantom.”

He laughed. “Okay, yeah, I’ll check up on Wonder Woman.”

Hera blinked her many eyes, peacock feathers spreading in shock at how easily he allowed her favors. She did not even have to beg.

King Phantom turned to leave before pausing. “Hera, if you need help, just ask. Preferably without beating around the bushes next time. Also, Pandora misses you. You might want to hang around for tea later.”

Hera regarded him with the might of her divinity, which was but hardly a spec of his own kindness. The last one had not had her respect. Fear, yes. But never respect But this one…

“Yes, my King.”

“It’s just Phantom.” He shot back as he left, the Knight returning to his side once more.

Hera transformed into a more mortal form. She had not seen Pandora in a long time, the young woman had made quite an impression on her. Perhaps her old friend could be convinced in helping her punch Zeus and ruin her beloved husband’s day. Hera hummed, the green that used to flicker acidly against her divine form now only soothed. A reflection of its owner.

King Phantom is worthy of her regard.

——

Holy shit, a goddess asked him to check on the Justice League! She was super weird about it and talked in a really old way of speaking, but Danny hadn’t had anything to do for the past few days while entering the zone for his annual check up.

Danny waved away Fright Knight and dived into the portal that would take him directly to the Justice League and Diana!

He floated down from the portal, blinking at group of disheveled and injured superheroes surrounded by a group of demons. Belial?

“King Phantom.” Belial rumbled. Danny waved, not noticing the standstill his presence forced.

“Shite.” The British man cursed, drawing on his magic once more.

“King Phantom?” Diana Prince, Wonder Woman, said quizzically.

“Who?” Batman, Batman! That’s actually Batman, rumbled.

“High King of the Infinite Realms. We’re buggered if he decides to help Belial.”

“Wait, like the god of gods, that King Phantom?” Captain Marvel asked. Ancients, why are all of them electrical based? Danny hates electricity.

Danny floated closer to them, grinning in a friendly way before frowning as they tensed up.

“King Phantom. May I ask why you have graced us with your presence, my King?”

“Hey, Wonder Woman! Your mom asked me to babysit you!” He grinned, sharp and mischievous.

“What…?” The Flash asked, zipping to their side. “Her mom? Queen Hippolyta?”

“No, Hera,” Danny said, and watched Wonder Woman straighten at his words.

“The Goddess Hera.”

“Yep!” Danny rocked back on his suddenly formed legs instead of the whisp of a tail he usually kept in the Zone. He was also still floating. Danny sent a wave of ice and froze the rest of the demons in one fell swoop.

“The rest of you can take care of clean up, yes? Diana has to get some snacks, dinner, and then go to bed.” He pushed gently at Diana’s shoulders, nudging her towards the plane. She went willingly, respectful but amused.

——

Bruce, intellectually knowing that’s a king but only seeing a superhero teenager: *fills out mental adoption paperwork*

——

Hera, a goddess, terrified of misspeaking and dying as a result: he’s so strong even though he’s young omg powerful and could end my immortal existence

Danny, an unserious king: golly gee why is she speaking like a Shakespeare novel

——

Hera, thinking Danny’s gonna be dignified: pls watch over my daughter

Danny, who has a clone he sees as a daughter and therefore has no issues babysitting a grown woman: lol snacks, dinner, bedtime

Diana:… usually I’m on the other spectrum of this but it’s from a higher up so… okay?

——

Danny, terrifying gods and ancients: they’re my friends! The power of friendship!

[fairy-angel222]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 ft. Choso Kamo

—You meet Choso at a bar after babysitting him eight years ago

cw: small age gap (25 n 23), smut

It’s been a long time since you’d seen Choso Kamo. Having babysat him back when he was twelve and you were fifteen. A mere three years gap which deemed you mature enough for the job by his parents.

He’d never tell it to you, but you were his childhood crush. The girl he wanted to marry. The girl he told his friends about. His parents kept you around for only two years. Concluding that the boy was old enough to take care of himself.

He was devastated, especially when you found out that you’d be moving only a week later. He knew his feelings weren’t returned, but it hurt to see you go. He cried for weeks, couldn’t eat or sleep. He just wanted to see you again.

He hoped that maybe you’d text him, check up on him like you did when it was your duty. But you didn’t. You’d be turning eighteen the next year and would go off to college. And he’d be stuck there, without you for the rest of his life.

It had been eight years, and Choso sat in a bar with his friends. Their glasses clanking loudly against each other as they downed its contents. He hated crowded places like this, he wouldn’t even be there if not for his friends.

He’d gone to college, gotten his fair share of girls. Everything you promised him that he could do one day, the only thing missing was you.

“Choso? Oh my God is that you?”

It couldn’t be.

Choso’s mouth went dry as his head snapped in the direction of that familiar voice. A wide smile on his face as he took you in. “Y/n.. you.. I- wow.”

There you stood, after so long, grown into your body and as pretty as ever. You didn’t look a day over nineteen. It hurt to remind himself that you were not twenty five. It had been that long.

You giggled softly, that same giggle that he swore made his heart flutter. “It’s so good to see you Cho. It’s been so long.” You pulled him in for a hug and he stiffened, taking in that sweet scent that you always carried. It really was you. He allowed himself to hug you back tightly, pulling your shorter frame into his chest as he closed his eyes. Enjoying your embrace.

“It really has. I missed you.” He let slip out, and you smiled sadly as you pulled away. “I’m sorry Cho.. i didn’t think i’d have to move. Would have been nice to see you graduate and stuff.”

“No no it’s okay. It’s fine. I’m really glad to see you.” He could see his friends winking at his side, all watching intently at the interaction. It made him fidget, lip between his teeth as his face flushed a pale red. “How about i buy you a drink?”

“Sure.” You smiled, allowing him to lead you to the counter with a hand on the small of your back.

The two of you sat and talked. A long conversation about your lives and how each of you had been over the years. It made him happy to know that you were single, and it made him even happier to know that your ex had been your only since you were his age.

He started at you intently as you spoke. A special adoration in his eyes as you went on about your job and your friends. You were still so perfect. He wondered how you would feel if he told you that he never got over you. He’d first have to tell you that he had liked you, of course.

You could not lie. He was extremely handsome. He’d grown to be your type. Nothing like the adorably introverted boy you’d known back then.

Choso on the other hand, could not think straight. His mind was taking in everything at once. Your stories, your face, your lips, your hair, your dress which hugged your body in a way that made his mind wander. You somehow managed to captivate him even more. Especially since he was grown now, he knew what he wanted. His parents told him you were just a harmless crush, a phase. But he knew what he wanted for certain now. You.

It was how you ended up in his apartment. Both your hands roaming each other’s bodies as Chosos kissed you passionately. His hand around your throat gently to push you to the nearest surface. He kissed you like you would disappear at any moment, letting his lips trail down to your neck before leading you to his bedroom, your dress and his shirt having been discarded by the time you reached the door.

Choso pulled off his pants, and you allowed yourself to take in the muscles on his body. And the way his arms flexed as he held you tight.

He slipped on a condom, backing you up to his bed until you fell back onto it, Choso climbing over you with your tongues still intertwined.

You moaned when you felt him prodding at your hole. Easing his length into you with a groan of his own. He started off slow, rolling his hips into yours while breathing heavily onto your skin, his tongue swirling around your nipple while his hand squeezed at the soft flesh.

Your fingers were tangled in his hair, tugging on dark strands when he began to speed up. Thrusting into you expertly as you moaned out into the room. “Choso, hmm— fuck.” You mewled, back arching off the sheets when he started hitting you g spot with every movement. Pulling out nothing but moans past your lips as you fell into pleasure.

“Swearing’s bad, remember?” He breathed jokingly, reminding you back to when you’d say that each time he said a bad word.

You moaned out a small laugh, breaths ragged as your toes curled, feeling his fucking you deeper than you thought could be reached. “O-oh God— don’t stop. Please don’t stop. F-feels so good.” You cried, noises pretty and high pitched as your stomach burned, feeling your inching closer and closer to orgasm.

“S-shit. Had a crush on you f’ so long. Never thought this would be happening.” He grunted deeply. “Though i got over you till i saw you tonight.” His eyes met yours and you fought the urge to tell him that you knew, you’d known all along. He had just been a little boy with a crush. But now.. it was so much different. You craved him after seeing him. You wanted him.

“Ahh, ‘m so close Cho.. ‘m gonna cum.” You moaned, vision going black as you let your eyes shut, arms wrapping around his shoulders as your body was rocked back and forth.

“Go ahead sweetheart, cum f’ me yeah? I’ve got you, just let go kay?”

You nodded with a cry, body shaking as you let go. Allowing yourself to crumble underneath him as you came. Drenching his cock in your slick.

Choso’s thrusts became sloppy and he groaned, “That’s it. So good for me. Haah— shit.” Burying himself deep inside you before spilling into the condom which separated you. Unable to stop himself from imagining breeding you raw.

You both panted as you struggled to catch your breaths. Holding onto each other in a comfortable silence after he pulled out.

“That was..”

“Yeah,” He agreed. There was no going back after this.

He got both you and him cleaned up, giving you one of his shirts to wear as you let yourself cuddle into him on the couch. Watching a movie with two beers as he stroked your skin gently. Chin on your head as he tried to wrap his head around exactly what just happened.

This was serious. It didn’t feel like another one of his one-night stands, it felt real. It felt like there could actually be something between you. And he would do whatever he could to make it happen.

[seichira]

is it just me?

itoshi rin is tormented by the lingering ghosts of your tragic breakup. he is cold and he lives with the burden of missing you. he wonders if you are hurting too, or is it just him?

pairing : itoshi rin x reader

content : hurt and comfort. exes to lovers. messy breakup. accusations of cheating (no actual cheating). insecurities. mentions of alcohol. cursing.

it’s one in the morning and rin is surrounded by his friends and acquaintances but still, he feels cold. even with the alcohol in his system that he drank to purposely warm him, it’s cold.

it has been this way for nearly a year now. eleven months and a couple weeks, if anyone is counting. a few days more and it would be the anniversary of your breakup.

the nearer it gets to twelve months without you, the colder it gets. right now, even with the perfectly working heater in one of his teammate’s penthouse, rin shivers.

it’s cold.

he never thought it could be this cold.

rin knows why he feels like this. he knows exactly why he wakes up and goes to bed alone. the reason why his life is dull and empty is not a secret to him—he just won’t acknowledge it.

he refuses to admit to himself that the reason why he has been suffering for the past eleven months of his life is because you’re not here.

how could he admit it? how could he ever address that your absence it what causes his pitiful state, when he brought it upon himself.

it was his fault that you’re not here. he wanted this. well, he had thought that he wanted this.

there is no way he could welcome the thought that he misses you when he was the one who drove you away, right? there is no use.

it’s too late now. all he could do is go out with his teammates on nights like this and pretend as if he wasn’t freezing from the inside out.

“damn, this is so boring,” seishiro sits down beside him on the sofa and rin tenses at the presence of the white-haired boy.

he does not know what to do because among everyone else in this crowded room, you are most connected to nagi seishiro. your best friend. and he has long been your best friend before you and rin even got together.

how is rin supposed to act around the person who is still in your life while he himself isn’t? this man seated next to him knows where you are right now and what you have been doing, while rin has absolutely no idea how you are.

“didn’t think i’d see you here, itoshi,” nagi speaks again. rin hums in acknowledgment, “thought it wouldn’t be so bad to come.”

there is this unspoken understanding between them, that both of them are thinking about you. after all, aside from soccer, all they have in common is their connection to you.

nagi debates whether he should tell you that he saw rin tonight or keep it to himself so as to not instigate negative feelings from you.

rin wonders if he should start asking about you. he decides against it and pretended to busy himself with his cellphone to avoid further conversation with your best friend.

he convinces himself that he does not care. he acts like he doesn’t want to know how you are. he tries to make himself believe that as long as he can fake it, it will somehow be true.

jokes on him, really.

meguru approaches nagi next to him and rin is planning to ignore him like he usually does, but the words that comes out of meguru’s mouth made that utterly impossible.

“nagi! i saw y/n by the bookstore earlier this afternoon, didn’t you ask her to come? i invited her but she said you didn’t mention anythin’ about a party!”

the mere mention of your name makes rin’s heart stop. it has been a very long time since he heard someone mention your name casually around him. now that your name has been dropped, everything comes crashing down on him, and he cannot breathe.

“oh, damn, i’m sorry—“ bachira seems to notice his mistake upon not seeing rin next to nagi. they know not to carelessly throw your name around because at first, it affected his performance. now, it is apparent that you affect him in and out of the game.

“excuse me.”

rin is cold. it’s like ice is running through his veins as he stands up and rushes to leave the suffocating penthouse.

rin runs out to the street and for the first time since he lost you, he names the sinking feeling in his stomach that won’t go away.

for the first time since you walked out the door of your shared apartment, rin finally admits it.

he misses you.

he is longing for you like how the moon misses the sun but never meets it enough. it burns and it is freezing all at the same time because when you were here, he felt nothing but the assurance of your love.

he runs, and runs, and runs. it’s dark and it’s cold, but he runs. he runs in hopes that he could change the past. he runs with the burning desire to correct his faults and take back all the hurt he inflicted on you.

maybe then, you’d be here.

maybe then, it wouldn’t be so cold.

“are you seriously accusing me of that, rin? are you hearing yourself right now?” the hurt was evident in your tone as you watched the love of your life with all of his guards up.

his glares were accusing as if what he saw was an unforgivable betrayal. he had seen you talking to his brother, sae, and rin was quick to act out of pure rage and jealousy.

“you were flirting with my fucking brother!” he spat out, and he knew it was irrational.

he knew he was wrong about and that you would never be able to do that to him, but his years of pent up frustration and hatred towards his brother made it impossible to remember his trust in you.

“and i already told you i wasn’t, rin. i was talking to him. i bumped into him at the coffee shop while i was getting your usual morning drink when he saw me and i sat down for a little chat! that was all, baby. believe me.”

you deserved an award with how well you held up, with how patient you were with him despite his hurtful accusations towards you.

no one else understood him like you did, and you knew to be more patient with him in times like these. you were aware of how his brother affected him and how he just needed someone to stick with him through it.

“well, fuck that! you shouldn’t have been with him in the first place! sae wants everything that i have and now, he’s tryna get you too!”

it almost made you flinch, with his tone rising and his voice getting louder. he is furious, and you try to disregard the sting of his words now that his fury is directed at you.

“i’m sorry, alright? it wasn’t my intention to hurt you, rin. he’s your brother and i thought it would be nice to ask him how he is and���“

rin cut you off like he couldn’t comprehend a word that you were saying. “that’s bullshit and you know it! just fuckin’ tell me the truth! that like everyone and everything else, you’re gonna leave me for him!”

it frustrated you that he blocked all your explanations out. you were growing weary with the accusations thrown at you, but you continued. you continued to reason with him because you knew him. you knew he needed someone to stay. and above all, you tried further because you were in love with him.

you loved rin three years before you finally got together. your two years together made that five. that was five years of your life being deeply in love with someone whom you thought was going to be your husband and the father of your kids.

that amount of time may not be much when viewed through the generations of people who loved each other, but for the both of you, those five years were enough to build a life and create an ideal future with the other.

so, yeah. it never occurred to you to give up in that argument. there was no chance in hell that you would leave him high and dry.

“it’s not like that, rin. i am never going to leave you for anyone, much less for your brother! i need you to listen to me! we talked! that’s it!”

“you’re lying to me. i know it.”

you shake your head in exhaustion. “i talk, and i talk, and i talk—and you don’t hear a thing.” a lone tear falls from your eye without realizing.

his sharp stare does not falter. all he could see was red. the scene of you and sae together replayed over and over again in his mind.

you, the person he loved most, with the person who took everything away from him. it killed him to imagine a future where it is not you and him, but you and sae.

“i’m in love with you. only you. i cannot see myself with anyone else and i thought you knew that, rin. i get that your brother strikes a vein in you but don’t i at least deserve to be heard? we’re better than this.”

“yeah? and i thought you’d be better than acquainting with sae like that. you knew how i felt about him, and you did this? fuck that.”

rin walked out on you that night without another word. it felt like he also walked out on your relationship because he started training more. this meant leaving before you even woke up and going home when you were fast asleep.

during those weeks when rin avoided you like the plague despite living under one roof, you felt completely alone and isolated. you were lonely. he spoke to you in words, and he treated you as if your encounter with sae was enough for him to give it all up.

until one day, he comes home to a living room full of bags and boxes. you were there, waiting for him with a tired smile on your face.

for the first time, rin realized that the black circles under your eyes have grown where they weren’t before. he noticed that you are all cried out and now, you’ve got no tears to shed as you leave him.

“w-what’s all this?”

“i’m leaving. i’m sorry for not getting out of your hair faster. it was really hard to look for another apartment that was within my budget but don’t worry, i figured it out.”

“leaving? leaving me? leaving… this house?” which one is it? or fuck, is it both?

“mhm. i f-figured it’s not healthy for us to live under the same roof after everything. i wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable in your own space just because i’m here, so…”

did you really think he wanted you to leave? he wanted to explain. he wanted to tell you that he only acted that way because he was hurt and he was guilty! you don’t have to leave!

but he’s frozen from where he stood. the sight of all your stuff packed up and ready to go was a little bit too much for him.

you stood from where you were seated among the bags and boxes, and you stop in front of him. again, you smile gracefully, in contrast to the breaking heart that almost killed you.

“and rin? i’m sorry again for what happened with sae. i should’ve known better than to do that to you, and i understand that you don’t want to do anything with me because of that.”

he shook his head but you missed it because you walked past him with some of your bags in your hand. “y/n, no. i—“

you hear it and for a moment, you delude yourself into thinking that he will ask you to stay. but he doesn’t continue.

he stops because how could he ask you to stay after how he treated you? it was his fault for not listening and in the end, it was you who apologized? in what fucking universe do i deserve this angel, huh?

he doesn’t stop you from leaving because in that very moment, the thought of you finally escaping from him and his hurtful treatment towards you didn’t seem so bad.

“so, i guess… i’ll see you around. nagi will be around to grab my remaining stuff, so try not to kill each other, yeah?” you try to play it off cool, mask the fact that inside, everything is falling apart.

rin nods but he stayed with his back facing you. until the end, he did not have the guts to face you. to face what he had done to you and your relationship.

suddenly, everything grew cold. everything lost their color. the empty corners of where your warmth used to be mocked him.

for nearly a year since then, he has lived and suffered with the mistakes he did. he didn’t know what to tell people when they started asking about you. he didn’t know how to ride the train without holding your hand. he didn’t know how to be soaked in the shower without letting his tears flow freely.

he wondered endlessly as he daydreamed of speaking to you again: are you hurting too, or is it just me?

his endless running brings him to your street where you moved when you left him. his feet takes him farther than he expected because this street is on the opposite part of town from your shared apartment, a telltale sign that you tried to get as far away as possible.

evidently, it is not far enough because on your way home from the convenience store, you run into your ex-boyfriend. rin is first to notice your presence, and instead of freezing up like he did when you left, he walks up to you.

“rin?” you are confused and nervous. after all, the last time you had seen him was almost a year ago. you never tried to see him again.

“it hurts.”

the two words he just confessed are two words that he has never said together in a sentence ever in his life. itoshi rin never admits it when something is hurting him. he never tells anyone when he is in pain.

for him to say that now, it is a cry for you to soothe him in a way that only you could, and you know this because you know him better than the back of your hand.

standing a meter away from you underneath a street lamp, itoshi rin confesses his truth.

“it hurts, y/n. it hurts without you. it feels like i can’t breathe. it is so cold without you. it hurts so badly. i thought i could live with it eventually—but i can’t. it only gets worse.”

rin sees your shoulders shake in your attempt to conceal your sobs but you are failing miserably, and so does he. you don’t say anything and rin figures that’s fair.

you already tried to talk. you already told him everything you needed to hear on the night of the fight that ruined your relationship. it’s his turn to tell you everything you deserve to hear.

but he isn’t as good as you when it comes to words. he thinks about how he accused you of cheating on him. he thinks about how he shut you out and left you feeling lonely. he thinks about every day that he could have chased after you but didn’t. he thinks about all of that and he thinks about how he’s sorry.

and he manages to get that last part out, hoping that you would get it. hoping that the deep-rooted connection between the two of you is enough to let you know what he means.

“i’m sorry.”

you drop your groceries to the ground and you close the meter of distance between the two of you. you welcome him in his arms but he wraps his arms around you tighter than you welcomed him, because he is afraid that if he doesn’t, he will lose you again.

“that is all i needed to hear from you, rin. i never wanted much from you. just you and your love. i just needed to know that you still felt that for me, and when i didn’t… i had no other choice to walk away.”

rin nods against your neck and you feel his tears staining your shoulder. “i’m sorry. forgive me, please. i love you. i love you. and i trust you. more than anyone, baby. i promise.”

“you know i could never hurt you like you thought i did—“ you recalled, but rin cuts you off because he can’t bear another second of you defending yourself when you shouldn’t be.

“i know. i know.”

his embrace around you tightens, and he does not care if anyone could look out from their windows and see the soccer star practically begging for you in the middle of the night. not when he is in your arms again after months of only dreaming about it and wishing for it.

“it hurt too much without you too, rin. i had to remind myself that i can’t run to you for warmth. i took everything in me not to throw away my dignity to beg you to bring me back.”

that answers his question.

in his absence, you were hurting too. your separation killed you just like how it killed him.

“no. no—don’t have to beg for it, baby. i should be on my knees to thank you for even taking me back like this because—shit—i swear that i wouldn’t have lasted another day.”

you run your hands through his hair before briefly pulling away to cup his cheek in your hands, and he fondly leans on your touch.

“for the entire year, i thought it was just me who longed for you, rin.”

you couldn’t be any more wrong.

“i begged the stars and the skies for this very moment. it wasn’t just you.”

[leedosbunnyboy]

Kyojuro Rengoku; The Fire Kindling in My Heart

Genre: Fluff, Implied Smut

Pairing: Kyojuro Rengoku x Male Reader

Warning(s): Very narrative-driven, Slight feminization (Reader is referred to as a wife), Kyojuro and Reader bathe together, Implied bath s3x

Summary: Living with the love of your life can do a number on you, especially when you live every day wondering if he’ll even come back alive

Part II

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

Ten years…

Ten years since you’ve first started living with the flame hashira’s family.

Kyojuro Rengoku, the flame hashira, was your best friend since you were kids. So whenever your parents were killed by a demon, it was only natural he’d invite you to live with his family.

You were eternally grateful for his kindness and did everything anything necessary to attempt to repay his kindness; however, Kyojuro never once asked anything of you, simply saying you being alive and within his presence was more than enough. Even now, Kyojuro was twenty and you were nineteen, he was still as caring as ever. Always bringing you gifts from his many missions.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

You knew you liked the slayer. Hell, you’ve known since you were twelve. That was when Kyojuro held you as you cried on the second anniversary of your parents’ death. You wailed, you screamed, you looked a mess, all covered in snot and struggling to breathe, but Kyojuro never once judged you. He simply continued to hold you and you let you cry into his shoulder, whispering sweet words into your ear when you calmed enough to no longer be shaking. That’s when you knew, your heart belonged to him.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

You weren’t any good with swords, hence why you never chose to pursue the path of a demon slayer. Kyojuro tried his best to teach you, but you simply couldn’t figure it out. Instead, you decided to learn medicine. If you couldn’t help Kyojuro on the battlefield, you could at least help him in the aftermath. While Kyojuro spent his days training to pass Final Selection, you would learn how to blend herbs and roots from the kind old doctor up the mountain. Returning home at night to prepare dinner for Kyojuro and his younger brother, Senjuro, as well as to clean out any scrapes the older might have received during his training. You would run a bath for the swordsman and massage his tense shoulders until he began to doze off. Afterwards, you would tuck in Senjuro for the night, making sure to read him his favorite stories. The younger always asking if he could grow up to be as brave as the heroes in his stories, and you always reassuring him that he would be even braver. You would then head to Kyojuro’s room and fall asleep in the slayer’s arms.

A warm feeling would arise in your chest every night. You loved this routine.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

When Kyojuro was promoted to a hashira, you couldn’t really bring yourself to be happy. First off, his missions almost always had him away from home, so now that he was an even higher rank, you knew there was almost no way he’d be home for a while. And second of all, he’s almost died multiple times, and now that he was a hashira, you knew you would have to get used to it. Every time you had to wipe his blood off his skin, every time you had to stitch a gaping cut, it pained you. You constantly worried for him, and now to know the man you cared for so deeply could die any day now, did nothing to ease your constant fear. But he assured you, “I’m very strong (M/n)! It is my duty to protect the weak. Of what use would my years of training be if i never used it to protect the weak?” God, he reminded you so much of his mother.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

By some miracle, Kyojuro had some time off. A week off specifically. A week of not having to worry about if he’d be killed on the battlefield, a week of not having to hold your breath each time a crow came to your residence out of fear of hearing of his death, just a week of relaxing with Kyojuro by your side.

However, fate had other ideas.

In the middle of his break, he was called via crow to report to his master’s residence. Lord Ubayashiki if you recall correctly. You’ve never met the man but you’ve heard great things.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

“Must you really go? I’m sure you can simply tell him all he needs to know in a letter.” You now stood at the entrance to the Rengoku estate. Barely catching up to the flame hashira on his way out:

“I wish it was that easy (M/n), but if the master requires my presence it must be important.” He held your hands, his fingers brushing over your knuckles in an attempt to calm your growing worry. “Hey, I fortunately still have 3 more days of my break, remember? When I return, I promise I won’t leave your side until my rest is over.” He flashed you that god-forsaken smile of his. The smile that calmed you down and had your heart beating faster than the speed of a shinobi.

“When you return, please hold me?” You looked up at the man, silently swearing him to hold up his end of the promise with just your eyes.

“I swear on my honor, (M/n).” And with that, he was on his way.

You watched until you could no longer see his bright hair over the tree line, before returning back to sit at the engawa, distracting yourself by counting the stars.

“You really love my brother, don’t you?” Asked a small voice.

“Is it really that obvious?” You chuckled, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face.

“Of course it is. Your face lights up every time you’re with him.” Senjuro comments as he moves to sit next to you.

“Then why doesn’t he say anything?” You asked, tears beginning to well in your eyes. “I doubt he’ll ever feel the same. He needs a strong hashira woman to marry, not a lowly pharmacist like me who can’t even wield a sword properly.” You wiped some stray tears away with the sleeve of your kimono. It was blue and had coi fish and lily pads as the design. Kyojuro bought it for you. He said you’d look pretty in it.

“You shouldn’t be so harsh on yourself (M/n),” Senjuro rested his hand on your shoulder, “I know my brother cares deeply for you. Why else would he invite you to live with us?”

“Because your brother is an honorable man who pities the weak. It was for no other reason than helping a pitiful boy who couldn’t even help his parents.” You clenched your hands into a fist as to not cry.

“Don’t say such things about yourself.” Senjuro shifted to rub your back. For such a young boy, Senjuro was very was mature for his age. I guess having to raise yourself due to having a drunkard as a father does that to a kid. “You know, Kyojuro told me he joined the slayers corp because of you.”

You turned towards the younger boy, surprise etched into every corner of your face.

“When he saw you that night ten years ago. Alone, all at the hands of a demon, he promised to not allow that to happen to anyone again. He said he made two promises that night; to kill all demons and to never let you be alone again.” Senjuro recounted, his smile brightening upon feeling your back relax.

“He truly cares for you (M/n). When he returns, please consider telling him about your feelings. I promise he won’t hate you, no- he can’t ever hate you.” Senjuro smiled at you.

“I will.” You wipe the remainder of the tears off your face. “Now, let’s get you back to bed, yeah?”

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Kyojuro returned by sunrise. Ubayashiki simply wanted to inform him of his next mission after his break.

He slowly crept into his home, peeping into his father’s room to see him sound asleep. Most likely due to alcohol rather than exhaustion, but at least he isn’t yelling at Senjuro, or god forbid, (M/n).

He then made his way to his room, but not before peeking into Senjuro’s room. His heart swelled at the sight of you resting with Senjuro in your hold, his head resting in the crook of your neck. A half-read story in your hands.

“Poor things. You both must’ve been very tired.” Kyojuro whispered as he moved to wrap you both in a blanket. You reached out a hand to grip his. “Oh, it’s you.” You stated, half-asleep. “I’m sorry (M/n). I didn’t mean to wake you.” He softly smiled. “No, it’s fine. I was about to awake anyways. Let me just lay Senjuro down and I’ll make us some breakfast alright?” You shifted to rest the younger Rengoku on his futon before tucking him in with a blanket. “Sounds good to me.” The flame hashira smiled as you dragged him out of his room and into the kitchen.

“Are you in the mood for anything specific?” You asked as you wrapped an apron around your waist. “Some miso soup would be amazing!” He stated. “With sweet potatoes i assume?” You smiled back to him. “You know me so well.” The flame hashira chuckled heartily. “Well of course I would know what my best friend likes.” Not to mention how i’m crazy in love with you you thought.

Just before you could finish the meal, a very annoyed and very hungover Shinjuro came barging into the kitchen. His eyes glanced over to Kyojuro before a look of disgust overtook his face.

“Sir Shinjuro. Would you like some miso soup as well?” You offered. Mostly to break the uncomfortable silence which had overtaken the area.

“Sure, sure, whatever.” Kyojuro’s father had never particularly hated you, in fact, the flame hashira might even go as far as to say his father liked you. Well, he’s never shown it, but he’s also never yelled at you, and according to Kyojuro those are the same things.

You smiled towards the retired hashira before preparing three bowls of soup, as well as an extra for when Senjuro decided to wake up. Normally Shinjuro would have him up at this hour but you decided to let him sleep in just a bit longer. You brought over the bowls and set them in front of the two men before taking your seat beside Kyojuro, apron still wrapped around your waist.

“Is it good?” You asked Kyojuro. “Of course it is! Everything you make is delicious (M/n)!” The flame hashira would say before wolfing down the entire bowl. “Tasty!” You chuckled at his antics. “Shall i get you some more?” He nodded and you arose to pour him some more.

“He has two arms and two legs (M/n). I’m pretty sure he can pour his own soup.” Shinjuro would remark as you stood. “It’s completely fine. I have no issue with it.” You stated once you returned with Kyojuro’s bowl. “He is a hashira. It won’t kill him to get up every once in a while. He doesn’t need you to be waiting on him hand and foot-“ “That’s enough father.” Kyojuro interrupted. “I would never ask something of (M/n) if it were to hinder him. Now please let us eat in peace.” Shinjuro tsked before continuing to eat. “Say, Kyojuro. Why don’t you get that wife of yours to go wake up Senjuro. He has to start training soon.” A blush found its way to both your and Kyojuro’s faces at the comment. “I-I’ll go get Senjuro.” You quickly stood and scurried to the younger’s room. “I can run you a bath if you’d like Kyojuro?” You offered before you fully exited the kitchen. “That would be lovely (M/n), *cough* thank you.” He stated, face still red and clearly flustered.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

“Thank you (M/n). This is wonderful.” Kyojuro said as he sunk into the warm water. “It’s no problem at all Kyojuro.” You smiled at him and began to work on massaging his tense muscles.

“About what my father said, I apologize if it made you uncomfortable.” The flame hashira said as he relaxed into your touch. “It’s completely fine.” You contemplated on whether or not to say what was on your mind. “I actually kind of liked it.” You whispered, but Kyojuro heard you.

“Oh?” He leaned his head back to make eye contact with you. “Would you enjoy being my wife? Would you like to wait here for me on my missions and then when I’d return, I’d hold you and whisper sweet things into your ear?” Kyojuro teased. His smiled widened as he saw your ears begin to turn red. “Well, I already kind of do that.” You said, attempting to distract yourself by working on kneading the older’s tense muscles.

“(M/n)…” Kyojuro called. “Hmm?” You cautiously looked up at him. “Could you please join me?” You swear you could feel your face turn darker than a beet, but you complied nonetheless.

Now you found your back resting against the chest of the flame hashira as he worked on cleaning your hair.

“How long have you wanted to be my wife?” Kyojuro teased. “Since we were kids. I’ve always admired you Kyojuro. Your resolve, your determination, your kindness, your pure heart, all of it made me fall deeper and deeper in love with you.” You finally admitted what you’d been holding with you for the past seven years. “What if I told you I felt the same?” Kyojuro asked. His hand falling from your hair to hold your hands. “Are you sure it’s not just because we’re both naked and pressed against each other?” You joked. “Well not that I don’t enjoy this, but it’s not at all the reason.” He pulled you closer to him. “All I do is for you. Joining the demon slayer corp, training hard to become a hashira, waking up in the morning, it’s all for you (M/n). While I’m away on missions, all I do is long to come home and see your beautiful smile while you’re reading to Senjuro. To hold you while you work on whatever new interest captures your attention. To taste your amazing cooking. To simply be around you is my will to live. You’re my everything (M/n).”

“But I am a man. You deserve a strong woman to carry your bloodline. Hell, I can’t even wield a sword correctly, how do you expect me to be good enough-“ Kyojuro’s lips met with yours. “Please stop speaking such nonsense. I don’t need a bloodline, I only need you (M/n).” A comfortable silence overtook the bathroom as he simply held you. Relishing in the presence of each other.

“I’ll tell you what (M/n). After this mission is over, I will marry you. How does that sound?” Your heart was beating uncontrollably. “Hello?” Kyojuro giggled as he caught sight of your flustered expression. “Don’t laugh at me! The man I’ve been in love with just expressed his feelings towards me and asked me to marry him in the same hour.” You slapped his chest as he continued to laugh. “Well, do you accept?” He looked into your eyes. “Of course!” Kyojuro smiled and captured your lips again. “Good, now let me show you just how much I love you.”

You two became one beneath that water. Much to the dismay of Shinjuro’s ears.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

As quickly as he returned, he had to leave yet again. Now you stood again at the gate of the estate. Kyojuro’s hands in yours as you begged for him not leave.

“I must go love. This mission is important.” Kyojuro chuckled as you continued to cling to him.

“Come back safely. You owe me a wedding!” You whined.

Kyojuro nodded and brought your lips to his. Holding you tightly and he hoped you would feel all his love.

“Promise you’ll return to me.” You held out your pinky to him.

He intertwined your fingers and kissed your knuckle. “Promise.”

“Say… what kind of mission are you even going on?”

“Something to do with a train. I’m sure it won’t be hard. I’ll be back quickly!”

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 24)

Part 23

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

“Lean your head back, so I can rinse.” Y/N instructs Katniss, gently.

It’s been two weeks back in twelve. The Abernathy family, Katniss, Cashmere and Johanna. Peeta had to stay behind, not quite ready to be exposed to all the potential triggers of home.

Cashmere and Madge had no problem cozying up in the Abernathy home. However Katniss keeps to her own house in Victor’s Village and Johanna has agreed to stay in the house gifted to Y/N after her win. Finnick and Annie will visit too, of course. After the baby.

The girl on fire sits in the tub, knees pulled up to her chest, with both arms around them, as her former mentor washes her hair. Katniss can’t bring herself to do much these days. Rotting away on the couch, after Prim… But Y/N is nothing if not stubborn and loves Katniss more than her own mother ever could.

When Y/N is finished, she leaves Katniss to dry off. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”

Katniss blinks at her, nodding. She does not speak.

Y/N returns to her own home, bustling with life. Nothing here is still. The victor dances past her oldest daughter, twirling about the living room to music. Moving carefully behind the house of cards that Everest and Cashmere are building on the dining table and into the kitchen.

Haymitch follows her there, Daisy in his arms. He hardly puts her down. “How is she?” Katniss.

Y/N sucks in a breath. “You should go see her, Haymitch. Maybe she’ll talk to you.”

“What makes you think she’ll talk to me?”

“Because you understand each other.” Y/N says, “I love her, she knows I do. But it’s not the same. She needs you.”

“And if you’re wrong?” Haymitch frowns, “if it sets her off? Makes it worse?”

“The last thing Katniss needs right now, is to feel like another person has abandoned her.” Like her mother. Like Gale. “Especially you. You don’t have to say anything, just be there.” Y/N wrings her hands, anxiously. “Please.”

Haymitch shakes his head, bouncing between feet, when Daisy begins to fuss. “The things I do for you.”

Y/N half smiles, “gimme the baby.”

At this he hesitates. It is hard enough being in a separate room from his children. Or not to holler in protest, each time Y/N moves out of his sight.

“Haymitch?” Y/N rests a hand against his back.

It’s not you, it’s me. “Here.” He forces a smile, passing off their child.

“Haymitch, what’s wrong?” Y/N wonders, adjusting the infant in her arms.

“Nothing.” He clears his throat, “it’s nothing.”

“But-”

“I love you.” Haymitch tells his wife, pecking a kiss to her lips, “nothing’s wrong.”

Y/N pulls back, slightly, studying him. “I love you too.”

He pats her cheek, in parting. Hurrying out the door, before Y/N can get a word in.

“You guys are disgusting.” Johanna remarks, leaning heavily against the refrigerator.

Y/N murmurs. “Yeah.”

“I’m out of eggs.” Johanna adds, to explain her presence.

“We have plenty. Help yourself.” Y/N waves toward the fridge.

“There’s something wrong with him.”

“I know.”

“What are you gonna do about it? You’re Mrs. Fix It. That’s why we’re all here. So you can fix us.” Johanna scoffs, “you can’t even fix yourself.”

“I can,” Y/N cuts her off. “I will.”

“You think I haven’t noticed there’s a room you can’t even go in?” Johanna continues.

“It’s not what you think.”

“I think you’re afraid of old hunks of metal that used to record you getting your rocks off.” Johanna crosses both arms over her chest. “They can’t hurt you.”

“They can hurt me.” Y/N purses her lips, “they did.”

“You should get rid of them.” Johanna suggests.

“I can’t.” I just can’t.

“My head doctor would call it ‘exposure therapy.’”

“Will you help me?”

Johanna huffs a laugh. “What are friends for?”

————————————————————————

That night, after the children are fast asleep, Y/N tosses and turns in bed.

“Just say it.” Haymitch snaps.

“It’s nothing.” Y/N whispers, “I’m sorry.” She turns away from Haymitch, nuzzling her back against his chest, until he has no choice but to wrap his arms around her.

“Angel,” Haymitch pauses, trying to find the right words. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what?”

“Been free.” Haymitch confesses, “not since the games, never as an adult. Never as a husband or a father; and I am terrified that at any moment, all of this is going to be taken away from me.”

Y/N squeezes his hand, a bit tighter. “Sometimes I think that too.” We’ve been playing the game too long. “Do you think we’ll get used to it? Being free?”

Haymitch sighs, pressing his lips to her shoulder. “I hope so, angel.”

This is new. Haymitch having hope. “Me too.”

————————————————————————

Nights bleed into days. Days into weeks.

Daisy naps contently, in the sling against Y/N’s chest, while she tidies the kitchen.

Everest and Haymitch have set out to pluck weeds from the pathway between houses of Victor’s Village.

Arista is playing in the backyard.

The birds chirp.

The sun shines.

Then Arista screams. “Mommy!”

Y/N abandons the pan she is washing, into the sink, water still running, as she races toward the sound of her daughter’s voice. “Arista!”

“Mommy! Daddy! Hurry!”

Haymitch and Everest rush toward her cry. “Arista!”

Y/N finds her first, at the far edge of their yard, hunched over a mass of white feathers. “Arista? Are you ok?”

“He came back.” Arista tells her mother, with overjoyed tears in her eyes. “Louie came back.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Y/N chokes down the panic that has risen in her throat. “That’s wonderful.”

Everest comes to a stop beside his mother, panting as he takes in the scene before him. “She’s ok?”

“Yeah,” Y/N reaches a hand over, to ruffle his hair. “We’re all ok now.”

Haymitch joins them last, out of breath, face flushed. “Is everything-”

Y/N turns to him, with a grin. “Louie came home.”

“It’s just the goose.” Haymitch can’t help but laugh. “Just the god damn goose.”

————————————————————————

That night, at dinner, with Madge, Cashmere, Johanna and even Katniss, the phone rings. The sound of it still jarring, after being without a form of easy communication between districts for so long.

Maybe it’s Annie and Finnick.

Maybe there is news in the Capitol.

Maybe Effie.

“I’ll get it.” Johanna volunteers.

Y/N holds up a hand, not wanting to speak with a mouthful of food.

“Or not.”

“I’ve got it.” Y/N excuses herself from the table, into the hallway. Lifting the phone from the receiver to her ear; heart pounding. “Hello.”

“Y/N, it’s me.”

Her free hand comes up to her heart, attempting to quiet the ache. “Peeta, hi. How are you?”

“Better, I’m good.”

“That’s good, honey.” Y/N blinks back tears. “That’s so good to hear.”

“Dr. Aurelius says I’m free to leave the hospital, as long as I keep up with sessions over the phone.” He sounds nervous, like the other shoe is about to drop.

Maybe he’s staying with Effie in the Capitol.

“The train leaves tomorrow morning.”

“Can I- I’ll come get you from the train station?”

“Yes.” Peeta says, immediately. “That would be great.”

“Ok,” Y/N breathes, “that’s perfect. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21 @avoxrising @koiphisch @drwho-ess @daisydaisybilly @misfits1a @nj01 @eruannaaa-blog @thatkindofgurl @solikeapparently @innercreationflower @nicksolemnlyswears @a-sweet-little-fangirl @champomiel @kate654 @maladptivedreamer @rainbow12346 @gabwitch99-blog @theseerbetweenus @qvnthesia @prettybiching @izziebreeziel @anneliese500 @scoliobean @mariechristine00 @hoslunix @frstlght @winter-jensen

[miinatozakiii]

gemini

detective!jihyo x spiderwoman!reader. (pt.1)

summary: jihyo should not be letting you into her apartment at 12 in the morning, and she should definitely be turning you in, but she doesn't.

wc: 1.3k

warnings: blood ; slightly suggestive ; proofread but not well

pt.2

a/n: happy hyolo!

-

There’s a knock at the window and Jihyo nearly jumps out of her seat.

She turns to see the masked vigilante outside, waving. Jihyo groans at the sudden arrival but still opens the window. She stares at you, brows furrowed and jaw clenched,

“It’s twelve in the morning, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jihyo had asked, irritation in her voice. You had chuckled at her response and Jihyo couldn’t see your face, but she could tell that you were smirking.

“Miss me, detective? I couldn’t resist paying a visit.” You responded teasingly, letting yourself into the apartment and glancing around.

Jihyo should be turning you in, Jihyo should not be this calm. She should most definitely be wondering how the hell you know where she lives. Jihyo crosses her arms and raises a brow, her stern expression not faltering, 

“You know you just broke the law right? I could turn you in right now.” Jihyo threatens,

“But you won’t.” You mutter, and you’re right. You look at the way her expression softens, and how her jaw unclenches. 

You had saved Jihyo’s life not once, but twice. It changed her whole opinion of you and whatever vigilante activities you had been up to, she would be lying to herself if she thought you were a criminal – You had saved not only her life but many others as well.

“The chief would,” Jihyo responds.

“You’re not the chief though, detective. And I know you secretly like having me around.” You tease. Jihyo rolls her eyes playfully in response, her demeanor slowly breaking down.

“What do you want, Spiderwoman?” Jihyo groans.

The detective freezes as she notices the two drops of blood that fall on her wooden floor, the faint sound of the blood making contact with the floor is loud in the quiet hours of the night. She uncrosses her arms and concern replaces the annoyance that was once on her face, 

“What happened to you?” She asks, inching closer to look at the cut on your rib area, “Sit down.” She quickly orders, and all the suspicion and annoyance that was once present had turned into worry and concern. 

You don’t say a word as you sit down, wincing. You’re still a bit lightheaded from your injuries. 

Jihyo rushes around her apartment to find a first aid kit and quickly gets to work on your injuries. She also notices the cut in your shoulder, it reveals some of your skin and seems to have ruined your suit. 

Jihyo begins to clean your wounds, but your suit makes it difficult to clean them fully as some of the material gets in the way. You push Jihyo’s hands away from you lightly before ripping the suit, allowing a better view and access to the wound. You also lift your mask so that it only shows the bottom half of your face, you only do it to make it easier to breathe. Jihyo looks at you in surprise and her cheeks seem to flush a bit as she looks at the newly exposed skin before her, and the bottom half of your stupid face (it's only half of your face, but Jihyo is captivated by how beautiful your lips are, and the sharp edge of your jawline).

“Like what you see?” You tease. Jihyo looks at you, a stupid grin tugging at your lips.

Park Jihyo can do this, there is nothing she can’t do. Detective Park can patch this vigilante up and kick her out. It’s simple – so why is there a sudden attraction growing in her chest? Why do her cheeks feel so warm? 

“Oh shut up before I make you leave half patched up.” 

“Yes detective.” You respond playfully. 

Jihyo rolls her eyes and gets back to work, putting alcohol on the wounds. You wince and let out a low groan which should not be making Jihyo feel things, but it does. Her fingers make contact with your tense skin again and you flinch, throwing your head back whilst biting your lip, gripping the chair tightly. The mood of the room shifted, and it was almost too heated and intimate for Jihyo.

As you continue to make such noises, a jolt of desire courses through Jihyo’s veins. Your abs are visible from the tightness of your suit, and they seem to flex and relax with every hitched breath. Jihyo wonders how you’d look groaning with that mask off, how you'd look with that damn suit showing more of your skin. Jihyo clears her throat.

“Are you enjoying this?” You question with an annoying smirk on your lips, amused by the reactions you get from the detective. Jihyo’s blush deepens and the hue on her cheeks betrays the words that come out of her mouth,

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She manages to mutter, her attempt at authority sounds unconvincing even to her.

“You’re so cute, detective.” You sigh. you hold onto the chair once more as she purposely adds a drop of alcohol to your wound. You laugh through the pain, “I didn’t know you were into that.”

Park Jihyo can do this. Detective Park can overcome anything. She can get through your teasing and flirting, the way your gaze sits on her, the way your breath hitches, the way your teeth bite at your lips, the smile on your face, and the sounds you make – Jihyo can get through this.

Eventually, Jihyo finishes treating your wounds, her heart pounding in her chest. The sudden intimacy shared in the moment between the two of you had Jihyo both exhilarated and conflicted. She knew she shouldn't be involved with you, especially with the police force against your vigilantism – you were Spiderwoman after all. Even so, she had let you into her home and patched you up, Jihyo couldn't deny the trust and interest she had for you after you had saved her life twice. 

You stand up and wince a bit, looking at Jihyo with admiration and gratitude.

“You never told me what happened,” Jihyo speaks, worry in her tone. 

“Just a scuffle with some criminals, it could’ve been worse,” you say that as if it was normal. As if getting sliced in your side was comparable to stubbing your toe. Jihyo looks at you with a newfound softness in her eyes, your heart aches a little knowing that you worried her.

“Do people ever notice all these injuries?”

“What?”

“You're,” Jihyo pauses. She looks you up and down, “You’re a normal person like me. I know you must have people who look after you, there’s no way no one notices these injuries.”

“I hide them well.” You explain, shrugging your shoulders. 

Silence fills the air as Jihyo looks at you concerned, she wonders how you’re able to live such a dangerous lifestyle without anyone noticing, how you deal with such damage to your body and act like it's something like a small bruise.

“Did you choose to do this? Or is there someone that sends you to do all of this 'hero' stuff?” Jihyo asks. 

You shrug in response.

“I just don’t want people hurt,” You begin, “We’re really similar, detective. My motives are the same as yours.” You add.

Jihyo stays silent and you take that as your cue to leave, you smile at her once more and pull your mask back down. The detective watches you depart, turning and opening up her window to climb out of it. You disappear into the night and leave Jihyo alone in her apartment. A new warmth is in her chest, as well as a stronger interest in you, even if she doesn't know a single thing about you other than your desire to help others.

Jihyo cannot be attracted to you, but she'd be lying to herself if she were to say that she didn't find you so alluring.

[jaeedraszaerysz]

JON SNOW ☆ DATING HCS

SFW 💕💕

It would probably take him a while to trust you if you hadn't known him very long.

If you grew up with or close to the Starks he tried to befriend you before Robb did

He would always be scared that he would steal your heart away

You would spend hours mocking the men and women of the courts

When Robert Baratheon came to visit you both sat outside taking the piss out of all the Lords and ladies and any twat who dared speak low of either of you.

Tyrion Lannister defos assumed u were a couple and when you told him otherwise, he just shook his head.

Catelyn would probably despise you for being so close to him.

Ned would love you though, thanking the gods silently that the boy had someone by his side.

He would probably have kissed you before he left for the nights watch and spent his nights wondering whether leaving you was worth it all.

When you eventually found your way back to him it was rather chaotic.

You were probably interrogated by tormund on arrival

Atleast until Jon saw you, never forgetting your face.

You probably punched him square in the face and then proceeded to have a huge, westeros equivalent of Oscar worthy, makeput session infront of everyone.

Ghost, when not growling at random twats, would act like a second protector when Jon wasn't by your side.

Arya either loves you or hates you

Sansa is, just like her father was, happy Jon has someone.

Bran doesn't care. He's too busy wheeling around doing seven eyes Sparrow shit or whatever he called it.

You and Davos defos spend ages tryna talk some sense into him.

He always seems to be holding you in some way

Whether it be your arm, hand, waist. He would probably play with your hands or you hair often.

Is always bloody staring

Like never stops

His eyes are for you and only you

Takes. You. Everywhere.

Like no debates. He goes, you follow. Or vice versa.

He took you with him to meet with ramsay and if he made any comment whatsoever it was straight up a routine by now.

Death stare, holds onto you twelve times tighter, kills the offender within 24 hours.

Loves it when you fall asleep on him because he's happy you feel safe with him.

Head kisses.

Need I say more?

Everywhere anytime.

Head. Fucking. Kisses.

Walking past. Head kiss.

Sat next to him at dinner. Head kiss.

In an extremely serious situation requiring your full attention. Head kiss.

Dying. Head kiss.

It's like his fucking bread and butter.

When you first met daenerys it was bad vibes.

Like very bad.

No clue why she just doesn't sit right with you.

Either grows to love you or ends up hating you with a passion.

No in-between.

He dreams of having a normal life.

He would want three kids, two boys and girl so they could protect their sister.

Maybe another direwolf or four. One for each and one for you.

Can't sleep when you aren't next to him.

Teaches you to sword fight extremely early on in your relationship.

If you were ill or pregnant he would never leave your side.

Never ever ever never.

He's convinced that you could have a hundred children and you would still be the person he loves most in the world.

Would do anything for you.

Minors DNI below this line.

NSFW ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 (implied female reader)

Worships you like no one else

Touching you always.

Passes it off for his hand on your back but in reality he's secretly caressing your ass, or will have his arms under your cloak, passing it off as a hug, and will gently squeeze your boobs.

Neck kisses.

His favourite thing in the world.

Loves to leave marks on you wherever he can.

Has definitely kissed every inch of your body

Gives no fucks about scars or hair or anything of the sort.

Boobs.

Lives laughs loves your boobs.

Will lay with his face buried in them at any time.

Minor inconvenience? Someone was being a twat? He's tired?

Boob pillow.

Will eat you out for hours.

Insatiable.

You have any problems at all? Sit on his face.

If he's had a bad day he will legit just stuff his face between your thighs.

His fave place.

Says that if you suffocated him it would be an amazing way to go.

Probably prefers giving but he will never say no to receiving.

His dick is probs like 6-7 inches.

Takes tormunds advice very seriously.

Loves to see how many fingers you can take before he stuffs you.

Will go for as many rounds as you need.

Always a gentleman, making sure your comfortable and that your satisfied.

Cockwarming he loves.

Cuddles afterwards.

He will slide out of you and pull you onto on him, pulling the blankets up and wrapping his body around yours.

Calls you love but with his gorgeous deep voice.

Has a sexy asf morning voice.

He's so whipped for you he can't function somedays.

[westviewtroubles]

Look Into Me

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Synopsis: It's finally time for your first date with Eddie.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: fluff! so fluffy i'm getting a toothache!

A/N: I had to write it. I had to! I actually have a few series along with some oneshots planned, but I just had to write it. Here, in all it's glory, is the third installment to "Across The Room." This can be read as a standalone, however I recommend reading the two installments before this one!

Part 1 and Part 2

It was a morning sure to go down in history, Eddie running around the trailer like a headless chicken, his hair flowing behind him. It had been a week since you'd agreed to go on a date with him, and he'd spent every night after that thinking about you, and how he could make sure you'd have the best date possible.

He could still vividly remember the way you got on the tips of your toes, giving him a kiss on his cheek and whispering into his ear, accepting his invitation. He could barely sleep the night after, his cheek still burning up where you'd kissed him.

All of his dreams were plagued by how it'd feel to actually kiss you, how soft your lips would feel against his, and how he'd have to bend down slightly in order to actually reach your lips. He couldn't stop thinking about how soft your hands might be, compared to his calloused ones, or how giddy it might make him to be able to wrap his arm around your waist with a smug look on his face, knowing he was holding onto the prettiest girl of Hawkins High.

The only downside was that his uncle now likely thought he was going insane, as the evening before included Eddie running around in a similar way that he was doing now, making sure that his best black jeans and his favorite jean vest were washed, Wayne wondering what the hell had gotten into his nephew.

But now, with only thirty minutes left before he was supposed to pick you up, every single one of his thoughts seemed to be scattered around.

Somehow, you felt the most energetic you had in years, despite only sleeping a little bit over five hours. You had no idea why you'd put an alarm for 6AM, despite having agreed with Eddie that he'd come to pick you up at 12AM, but now, five minutes to twelve, you were relieved that you had.

You couldn't get yourself to believe what was about to happen, that for some reason, the guy you'd been pining over since the first time you'd seen him, was taking you out on a date.

The first time you saw him, it was the first day of your third year and your first day at Hawkins High, as your father had gotten some high-paying government job, and decided to uproot your entire life after living in the same house for your entire life.

You didn't know anyone there, and you were completely freaking out. The school was empty of students, almost making you think that it was some holiday, but then you saw him.

It was only for a brief moment, but when he saw you, he smiled. And somehow, that smile managed to kill every feeling of nervousness inside you. From then on out, you'd seek him out in every room you were in, and when you saw him smile, you felt nothing but warmth.

Maybe he knew that you were thinking about him, because at that moment, you heard your doorbell ring. And with one deep breath, you rushed down the stairs.

Eddie could almost feel his jaw drop to the ground when the door in front of him swung open. You stood there with a open-mouthed smile, a sudden gust of wind brushing some of your hair back.

"Are you ready to go?" You asked, cocking your head slightly, your hand gripping a small bag, and the thoughts about holding your hand came rushing to him.

"Yeah, definitely." Eddie said, clearing his throat, "I had a few thoughts about what we could do."

Few thoughts. As if he hadn't been planning it ever since you'd agreed.

"Sounds good!"

The situation finally started to feel real to you once you'd climbed into Eddie's van. It wasn't like you hadn't hung out a hundred times before, but this felt different. This was different.

The ten minutes that had already went by had been spent in complete silence. Well, there had been one word. As soon as Eddie had turned on the engine of his van, a metal song you hadn't heard before started blasting on full volume, the boy turning it off and sheepishly muttering an apology. For some reason, you thought that was the most endearing thing ever.

"So." You cleared your throat, determined to end the silence between you two, "How's history going for you?"

As soon as the words left your lips, you regretted them. Stupid. You studied with him every other day, you already knew how history was going for him. But even though you saw your question as the dumbest thing to ask him, he chuckled.

"It's going alright." Eddie said, keeping one of his hands on the steering wheel while using his other hand to brush hair away from his face, "How's it going for you?"

"Well, we had a test last week," You looked down at your freshly manicured hands, "and after grading them, Mrs. Click said that I was the only one to get full points."

"That's my girl."

And when those words left his lips, you could feel your heart doing somersaults. Looking to him, you saw the small, victorious smile on his lips as he drove, your heart pounding against your chest when he momentarily turned his gaze to you, his smile only widening.

Eddie had never understood any of those cheesy love songs about someone's heart coming to a pause as soon as they saw someone, but at that moment, he was sure he was living in one.

You stood a small distance away from him, your back to him. The tall grass went up to your knees, and your attention was taken by the flowers peeking from the ground. Something about the blue sundress made it look as if it was made for you, the hem flowing slightly along to the breeze.

He'd found the field of flowers the day of your first lesson, and it made him think of you, the daisies smelling exactly like your perfume. And when he saw you holding one of the flowers, it was like you belonged there.

The sun behind you looked like a halo that was surrounding him as you turned to look at him, the smile he'd come to know too well on your face, it took everything in him not to walk over to you and kiss you.

"Come smell it!" You urged, and it took him seconds to stand at your side as you pushed the flower to his face, "Doesn't it smell good?"

"It smells like you."

You simply shook your head, casually putting the flower behind your ear. "How did you find this place? It's so beautiful."

"One time, I was coming home from Hellfire when I got the urge to take a detour." Eddie laughed, looking to you, "That's when I saw this. It made me think of you."

You nudged him slightly, covering your eyes from the sun as you looked up at him, "Are you being serious or are you just being cheesy?"

Eddie gasped, feigning offence at your comment. "I can't believe you'd accuse me of being cheesy. Do I look like someone who would say something like that if I didn't mean it?"

"I guess not."

"Yeah, so stop questioning my integrity. It's insulting."

"Can't have that, can we?" You chuckled, taking hold of his hand like it was the most casual thing ever.

But he could feel his heart turning backwards inside his chest, the playful smile on your face just making it worse. Somehow, every single thing in the world made sense to him, while also being the most foreign thing ever. It wasn't like anything he had dreamed of, it was better.

Even the thought of him being half as excited as you were for your date was making you giddy, and by the amount of planning that seemed to have gone into the date, it seemed like he was just as happy to go on a date with you as you were to go with him.

The two of you sat in the back row at The Hawk, watching some action movie you'd already forgotten the name of. You'd already spent half of the movie staring at Eddie.

He'd only let your hand go when it was time to get back in his van, and to get out, but for the remainder of the time, it was clasped in yours, your fingers intertwined together. And you'd be lying if you said it didn't have an effect on you.

Eddie looked so beautiful, even in the dark, and you thought it unfair that even his side profile looked so breathtaking as he concentrated on the screen, his brows slightly furrowed and his tongue peeking out every now and then.

What you didn't expect, was for his lips to start moving out of nowhere.

"Are you bored?"

Even the way he whispered sent shivers down your spine as you stared up at him, slightly leaning towards him with dazed eyes. Eddie turned his head to look at you, a grin on his face.

"No." You said quietly, clearing your throat, "Why do you ask?"

"Because you haven't been paying any attention to the movie."

"I have!"

"Oh yeah? What's happened so far?"

"I don't have an answer if you're gonna put me on the spot like that."

"Sure. That's the reason why." He smiled, turning back to the movie while you kept gazing at him with a slack jaw.

He hadn't shown that spot to anyone. The small diner on the outskirts of Hawkins was his spot. And now, it was yours too.

The clouds outside had started turning grey, and you were sat in his usual booth in the corner of the diner, on different sides. Eddie thought it was so endearing how your eyes brightened up when you realized you were on a first-name basis with the waiter.

"So, I'm guessing you come here often." You said, sitting across from him, fiddling with the straw of your milkshake as the two of you were waiting for your food to arrive.

"It's one of my favorite spots, actually."

"How have I never heard of this place?" You asked, looking around, "I mean, it seems like it'd be popular."

"Give me some credit, you don't think I'd take you just anywhere for our first date?" He said, making you chuckle, "I found this almost ten years ago when I agreed to play hide and seek in the woods with some of the bigger kids."

"I was the first to seek, and over an hour went by and I hadn't found anyone. I was starting to get tired, and I had no idea where I was. That's when I stumbled across this diner, and I came in. Doris, our waitress, offered me a free milkshake and let me call my uncle."

"That's so sweet of her!" You exclaimed, "I'm happy you wanted to show me this place."

"I thought it was time I showed someone how awesome the burgers in this place are."

After clearing your throat, you started going through your bag. "I wanted to give you something." You said, slightly hesitant. "I hope you don't think it's weird, or anything."

You placed a folded piece of paper on the table, quickly pulling your hands away as to make sure you wouldn't snatch it back, taking a deep breath as Eddie took it off the table, slowly unfolding it with furrowed brows.

When he saw it, he felt as if a weight had been taken off his heart. He finally knew what was in your notebook that kept you so occupied, what you kept hiding away from him

Eddie smiled, looking at the picture of him that seemed like it was smiling back at him. The way you had drawn him was so beautiful, it would've made him feel like it was impossible for it to be of him if it wasn't for his name written on top of it with cursive with a heart next to it. Eddie couldn't believe this was how you saw him.

Nobody had ever given him something like that. Nobody had ever made him feel like his heart would burst out of his chest any moment. But somehow, ever since he set his eyes on you, it was all you seemed to do. And to think that you would feel the same, made him feel like the luckiest person in the world.

"It's amazing." He said, looking down at the drawing before looking up at you, "I can't believe you drew it."

"You really think so?"

"Absolutely." He laughed like it was the most obvious thing ever, "I can't believe you'd make this. I hope you know, I'm gonna hang this up in my room and look at it every day. Shit, I'll buy a frame for it."

And the way you laughed made him want to pull your face to his and kiss you. Your face lit up, and he knew he'd never get sick of that laugh. That even, when everything else felt like ruin, your laugh would never stop being the brightest thing he'd ever see.

He brought his hand to your cheek, your laughter abruptly coming to an end as he rose up slightly, leaning over to you, his eyes basically pulled to your lips.

And as you were about to rise to your seat, he heard someone approaching the two of you, quickly sitting back down, leaving you to stare at him blankly.

The car ride back to your house had been quiet, but unlike the car ride to the field of flowers, this one wasn't tense, or awkward. You listened to the rain tapping on the roof of Eddie's van as he drove, his ring-clad hand still clasped in yours as you stared at the raindrops on your window.

"We're here." Eddie said softly, turning off the engine, and you turned your head to look at him, a smile still on your face. "I had a lot of fun today."

You chuckled, looking down at the hand that was intertwined with his. "Me too. I don't think I've ever had this much fun."

"Somehow, I still can't believe that you agreed to go out with me."

"Are you kidding me?" You chuckled, "Eddie, I still can't believe that you asked me out."

"Is it weird that I want to go on a hundred more?"

"You know, I think there's a word for that. Or, like a word for the person you keep doing that with."

"Oh, is there?" He said, furrowing his brows, "I have no idea what it could be."

You laughed, shaking your head before looking down at your watch. "I should go in. I have a lot of history homework to catch up on."

"Well, even great days have to come to an end." He chuckled, letting go of your hand. You felt a shiver go down your spine, already having forgotten how your hand felt without his. How empty it was. "I'll see you on Monday?"

"See you on Monday."

As you got out of his van, walking closer to your door as you felt the rain on your skin, you thought back to everything that happened that day. How every word he had said felt brand new when they left his lips, how comforting his hand felt in yours, how every smile he offered was the only thing you could see. How badly you had wanted to kissed him in the diner before the waitress brought your food.

You paused in front of your front door, digging through your bag for your keys with a wide smile on your face, even the thought of Eddie causing blood to rush to your cheeks.

As you were twisting the key in the lock, you heard something behind you.

"Wait!"

You let go of the key, turning to see Eddie rushing to you, a determined look on his face as he stopped in front of you.

"I'm gonna feel like the dumbest person ever if I don't do this."

And as soon as he got done saying it, you felt his ringed hands on your face as he turned your face up to look at his, your skin feeling like it was burning under his touch, the boy bowing his head slightly as he bent down.

When you felt his lips on yours, it felt like the opposite poles of a magnet finally connecting. The porch light above you flickered as he moved his lips in sync with yours. His curls felt damp against your fingers, and you leaned into his touch, feeling like you were going to drown if you ever let go of him.

You had no idea how long he had been kissing you, but once he pulled away, your lips felt like they were burning, and you were completely out of breath, Eddie looking down at you with a dazed look on his face.

"Will you go out on a hundred more dates with me?" He asked, in-between breaths.

"I'll go on a thousand more dates as long as they're with you."

[saintgoo]

Sun and Moon ☆

PAIRING: JJ Maybank x Reader

GENRE: Tooth Rotting Fluff, Best Friends to Lovers (they are already dating)

WARNINGS: None

A/N: was listening to Skyline To by Frank Ocean (aka a song of one of the best albums ever) and wanted to write something abt how I feel when this song plays, so there u go. (Wrote this thinking of the reader as a black girl, but there is no race definition 😁)

wc: 1k ★ ... masterlist ★ ... taglist

"I promise I will love you like the Sun loves the Moon."

Those words echoed in your head for so long. As much as twelve years had passed since JJ had said that to you on that playground at daycare, you never allowed yourself to forget it, I mean, how could you?

If you told your younger self that you'd be watching the sunrise with your childhood crush while he hugs you from behind, you'd probably laugh and say it was a lie. Well, who knew that the years of suppressing your own feelings for your best friend would be worth it in the end?

JJ's arms wrapped around your waist hugging you from behind, watching the sky begin to form vibrant colors and the sun prepare to rise while you wondered if he still remembered his promise from when you were children.

"What's going on in that little head of yours, hm?" He whispered, clearly noticing your inattention to what was going on around you guys. You sighed, turning in his embrace to wrap your arms around his neck.

"Well?" JJ pressed, as he tightened his grip. "What's on your mind?” You couldn't help but giggle as his arms pressed into you furthermore. It felt so comfortable and secure like nothing could ever separate you from his embrace.

You smiled softly feeling the ocean wind hit you both gently. "Nothing really," you mumbled into his neck, feeling a little tired. "Just thinkin’ about this place.”

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" JJ said and kissed you again, this time on the side of your cheek. He chuckled softly as you squirmed away.

"Too much," you chuckled nervously.

"I can't help it. You’re too gorgeous," he whispered, brushing your hair away from your face as he gazed at you with those piercing blue eyes.

Butterflies formed in your stomach, you would never get used to the spontaneous compliments no matter how much time passed. You touched his face with both hands, bringing him close to you before leaving a quick kiss on the lips. Watching his face form a goofy smile and he shifts his attention to the horizon ahead, holding your waist and turning you so you have the same view as him. “Look, the sun is starting to come out.” You heard him whisper in your ear softly, seeing him point his finger at the red ball that was waking up.

“Y'know… even though I've lived here since I was born, I've never seen the sunrise on the beach before”

JJ tilted his head, smiling softly as his blue eyes met yours from behind, "You've never seen it from the beach? Really?" He said softly, bringing you closer to him and resting his hands on your hips. "But how could that be?" He asked playfully, resting his own head on top of yours.

"I've never had someone who wanted to watch the sunrise with me," you joked, intertwining your fingers with his on your waist, "Glad I'm here now then." He chuckled warmly, squeezing you tighter in his embrace, this time more passionately. One of his hands found its way underneath your stomach, tracing lines up your skin, "I think I'd watch the sunrise with you for your entire life if you asked me to."

You smiled sheepishly, turning your attention away from the sunrise to give JJ a peck, before surprisingly removing his hands from your figure and starting to walk backwards towards the ocean without taking your eyes off him.

Surprised by your sudden change in momentum, JJ laughs softly, watching you walk backward away from him, his blue eyes staring deeply at you as if you were a living work of art. He moves one of his hands over his chest, feeling his heart beating within, and slowly follows you with his gaze as you get closer to the edge of the ocean. “Where are you going?” He says softly, a smile cracking on the corners of his lips.

“Catch me.” You smiled, remembering some of the games you played as children, running after each other along the beach. This time JJ came running towards you, and you playfully ran towards the water while screaming. Wetting your clothes, you tried to escape from him by swimming away, but he was quicker to catch you before you could, laughing alongside you as you hugged his neck, both of you wet and bathed in the sun's rays.

He held your waist kissing you deeply, the peaceful waves lapping at you as you enjoyed the moment on that empty beach, takin' time.

During that kiss, you felt happiness all over your body. As the memories of childhood flash before your eyes, you are taken back. The two of you made so many promises, and the two of you were inseparable. Time would pull you apart, but your hearts were still connected. The warmth of JJ's lips takes on a whole new meaning, and the love you feel for him is more than just childhood crushes. As the waves lap at your toes the warmth of both the sun and JJ's embrace is what matters most. The moment feels surreal, and you wish that time could stand still so that this moment wouldn't have to end. You feel at peace with the world and your childhood vows feel renewed, as if that child was still alive within you. As the kiss breaks, you feel the wind on your face and smile, knowing that no matter what happens your connection with JJ is strong. The memories may be in the past, but the feelings of childhood love never die fully.

“[Name]...” JJ held your waist securely, your bodies pressed together as the sea embraced your presence. “I love you more than the Sun loves the Moon.”

Send me a request! ☆

[calaisreno]

Yes and No

“Do you love her?”

It had taken them less than thirty minutes to go from the Rizla game to just asking each other random questions. The only celebrities that Sherlock knew were nineteenth-century chemists and twentieth-century criminals, which had more or less spoiled the game, and Sherlock had declared it pointless.

Then he suggested Yes or No, which at least required some deductive reasoning, and John agreed. But Sherlock was very good at this game, having deduced nearly everything about John in the first days of their acquaintance. Without asking any question, he deduced that John would choose violin, a human liver, Mrs Hudson’s nephew, and Sherlock’s old mouse-coloured dressing gown.

John gives up. “Fine. What don’t you know about me?”

Do you love her is a real question, he gathers— from the look on Sherlock’s face, which is serious and a bit sad.

The answer, which should be yes, of course I love her, instead comes out, “I’m marrying her.”

“People marry for reasons other than—“ Sherlock stops, appearing to realise he is going in a direction that can only lead to bad feelings. “Sorry, not a fair question. Better: When did you know that you loved her?”

He remembers grief. The intense pain of the days after he saw Sherlock die on the sidewalk in front of Barts. There are few details he can recall after that moment. It was as if the pain had receded just enough to let him breathe, and a kind of grey fog had descended. Pain, then sorrow.

Somewhere during the sorrow part, Mary had appeared. She may have been there sooner, but he hadn’t noticed. At some point he became aware of her bringing him coffee, talking to him, urging him to come out for lunch. Always there, cheerfully bullying him back into life. Eventually he noticed that he wasn’t quite as sad, and that she was rather pretty.

But the pain was still there, a tender spot in his memory, and most days he still felt defeated. Mary helped, though, and he thought that if she stayed, everything would be easier. He didn’t need to explain; she understood. He could keep the memories at bay when she was around.

By then he was having sex with her. He didn’t remember exactly how that had begun. Maybe it was a pity fuck one night when he’d had too much to drink. He woke up in her bed hungover, waiting for the darkness to descend like a weight on his chest, and she was there, making him a cup of tea, urging him to have some toast, sweetly solicitous and not accepting any excuses.

Does he love her?

Sherlock is still looking at him, the question in his eyes.

“She was there when I needed someone,” he says. “I just knew.”

He’d known that morning that he needed to move on, to leave what had happened in the past and live his life. And there she was.

“Your turn,” Sherlock says.

John thinks of all the things he’s ever wanted to know about Sherlock, but has never asked because it has never seemed a good time. Sherlock has a way of warding off questions with just a look. An armour that does not allow anyone in, not even John. He’s wondered about a lot of things, but asking has never been an option. Sherlock never has to ask; he simply deduces. John is terrible at deductions, as Sherlock often reminds him.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Sherlock doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. Twice.”

“That was a yes-no question, so I get follow-up. So, the first. Who was he?”

Sherlock smiles. “You’re assuming it was a man.”

“Wasn’t it? I thought… you’re… erm…”

“Gay? Yes, I am.”

“You loved a man,” John says. Obviously.

“Well, a boy. I was twelve. I suppose it wasn’t love so much as infatuation and hormones. His name was Victor. I never told him until I met him again at uni.” He gives John one of those looks that makes him feel like he is being x-rayed. “Have you ever kissed a man?”

“I’m not gay,” he says at once. “I mean, why would I kiss a man if I knew I wasn’t gay?”

“Follow-up question, then. When did you know you were not gay?”

John’s mouth may have been open for a bit. It’s an odd question. Everybody knows they’re straight until something happens and they know they’re not. Isn’t that the way it works? “I just knew. When did you know you were gay?”

“When I was twelve. I was at a stupid birthday party my mother made me attend, and we were playing Forfeit. I was asked a question I didn’t like to answer and took the forfeit. Up until then the penalties were stupid things like singing a song or doing a dance, but this time it was kissing a girl. The girl was willing, and I was curious, so I agreed. That was when I realised girls weren’t my cup of tea, so to speak. I wanted to kiss Victor.”

John says nothing, though it’s his turn. He remembers a similar party, a boy who wanted to kiss him, and feeling terrified that his parents would find out if he did. Harry had just come out, and he was trying very hard to make up for all of her shortcomings.

Sherlock asks, “How do you know you’re not gay if you’ve never kissed a man?”

“I’ve kissed lots of women,” he replies. “I don’t need to kiss a man to know I’m not gay.”

Sherlock shrugs. “I assumed that I was like everyone else, that some day I would meet the right girl, get married, and have children. That was how it was supposed to work, and I thought there was something wrong with me because I didn’t like girls that way. All my fantasies were about boys, but I thought I would eventually be attracted to girls as I got older. That kiss told me I would never love a woman.”

“You think I should kiss a man just to see if I’m a bit gay?” He laughs.

“It’s your forfeit, for not having an answer.”

“I’m not going to kiss some random bloke just because you—“

“Not a random bloke. Me. Kiss me.”

This is dangerous ground. Somewhere in his libido lies something that he’s thought about. Maybe he’s even fantasised about kissing a man. Having sex with a man. Just a lark, maybe. Don’t lots of men go through that? It doesn’t mean anything.

But, Sherlock. He lived with him for a year and a half, and they’d been friends. And he grieved when Sherlock died. Not grieved like a friend. He’d lost friends before, and this was nothing like those losses. Pain, darkness, unending regret. Even after Mary, some of that darkness remained. Moments when he remembered something Sherlock had said or done, a stab of pain. If it hadn’t been for Mary—

And it came to him. Mary was balm for his wounds. She brought him back from the edge. He is grateful to her. But gratitude isn’t love. Being in such pain for so long, and then a bit of light— that isn’t love, it’s relief. He’s seen patients in physical pain become almost giddy when given a dose of something that takes their agony away, not even enough to make them high. Relief feels like intoxication when pain has gone on so long.

If it hadn’t been for Mary, he would have understood what he’d only begun to see. She helped him, saved him even. But she was a distraction from the pain, not a cure.

He glances at Sherlock, who is pulling back, looking like he wishes he hadn’t just asked for a kiss. Maybe he’ll make a joke about their game, move them towards goodnight, goodbye, see you at the wedding.

“Yes,” he says. It’s an answer to everything— regret, grief, sorrow, love. It’s an apology for not seeing sooner, for the night at the Landmark, for his anger and cruel rejection of the man he has loved for years. “Kiss me.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Sherlock is right. The kiss tells John things he’s tried hard to forget. It tells him that has loved men before, but called it friendship, that he has wanted to touch men and kiss them, and called it lust, or fantasy, or a phase that all men go through. Women attract him too, and he grabbed onto heterosexuality like a life-raft because he was afraid of the alternative. His sister and his father, yelling. Harry thrown out of the house. His father, looking at him, saying not you too. Never you, my boy.

The kiss tells him that has already met the love of his life.

“I need to call Mary,” he says when they break away.

Sherlock looks sad. He nods. “Of course.”

“One more question,” John says. “Who was the second person you loved?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” he says. “I’m about to call my fiancee and break our engagement just days before the wedding because I’m in love with my best friend. So please, answer the question.”

Sherlock’s face does something John has never seen. It crumples and tears fill his eyes, and then he’s laughing and crying and not able to speak.

John kisses him again.

Author note: This is an old ficlet, from Trifles, posted here.

[icallhimjoey]

In 120 Hours

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You work as a temp and are offered a very exclusive interview for a very exclusive job. You see, someone needs a personal assistant for a very eventful week, and you happen to be the perfect fit.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, mentions of drinking, rpf, fem!reader

Author’s note: I have no idea what being a personal assistant entails, or what London Film Festival is actually like, but we can all pretend that this is accurate shit, right? Enjoy!

Wordcount: 3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“Have you got any–”

You were already holding a hand out to him. Joe saw, grinned, opened his hand to receive a piece of gum from you and looked out the car window, hand on the door handle but not quite stepping out just yet.

Then he turned in his seat, back towards you a bit, but stared into the space in front of him.

“I’m not sure how I...” Joe trailed off, then looked at you, not finishing his sentence, but hoping that his eyes would do the talking for him.

“Could thank me? Have ever managed to function without me? Will go on living your life without me?” they were all jokes, and you were smiling, but Joe just nodded and went, “Yea,” with a crazed sort of look in his eyes. “Exactly all of those things.”

Joe stalled, looked at you, until you nudged him with a knee.

“Go on, the people are waiting,” Not just the people you could see from the car, but you imagined also all the important people, actors and actresses alike, in the cars queueing up behind you.

“Come with me,” Joe suddenly said.

“I will, I’ll see you right after the–”

“No, come with. Let’s do the whole thing together,”

You hesitated. This wasn’t in the job description. Lots of things hadn’t been, sure, but those things had been, you know, not quite so out in the open. Not like red carpets were, anyway.

“I think we’ve been spotted together enough as it is, I don’t want you to-”

“I kind of don’t want to get out without you.”

And you frowned, but only slightly, because there was that smile again. Fuck, that smile had gotten you into enough trouble as it was, and Joe fucking knew it too.

You checked the time. There was over twelve hours left still, technically speaking. That was over ten per cent of the entire job – quite a few too many hours to screw everything up and risk not getting paid. You had said you were reliable. Professional. You couldn’t, really...

“Please?” Joe opened a hand, presenting you with his palm.

But, ugh.

Fuck it. Why not?

You grabbed Joe’s hand and silently wondered if this was breaching the NDA you’d signed. Maybe not. You knew exactly who it was going to piss off though...

Stepping out of the car with Joe, you were met with girlish screams of adoration. Well, Joe was met with girlish screams of adoration. Then cameras flashed brightly, blinding you almost instantly, and you thought back to how precisely one hundred and six and half hours earlier, you would’ve never envisioned that this is where you’d end up.

Doing a red carpet with Joe.

In a slutty dress. With slutty high heels on. Without the engagement ring on.

Not even a full five days had passed...

Not even a full six days had passed, since you’d phoned your friend and she had told you about the vacancy. The whole thing felt like a vague fever dream now, like it had happened years ago.

“Please tell me you have nothing going at the moment,”

It was a weird way for your friend to answer her phone when you called to ask her if she had time to go for drinks that week. Because, consequently, you had all the time for all the drinks, you see, because you had absolutely nothing going at the moment.

No professional things. No personal things. Zero job. Zero fiancé – you really had to remove that ring, but you couldn’t yet. It used to belong to your grandmother before, after all, so it kind of felt like if you just wore it on another finger, it’d be fine.

Still adjusting to life as a single woman - with big bills that belonged to single women - working as a temp and having a best friend work at a temp agency, the two of you seemed a match made in platonic heaven. She always kept all the good stuff back for you, called you on her breaks to slip you information she definitely wasn’t meant to be giving you, so you could officially apply for the right jobs at the right times and use the right words to actually be invited to the interviews. It was perfect.

Sometimes, the good stuff would be going through PowerPoint presentations in stuffy conference rooms in deeply exotic places, like Belgium. Or you’d manage an entire office for two weeks, a holiday-cover that would start Christmas eve and left you in charge of a lot of empty desks because, didn’t everyone take time off around Christmas and New Year’s?

But then, other times, the good stuff was actual good stuff and had you help run huge music festivals, unexpectedly brushing shoulders with the likes of The Wombats and Liam fucking Gallagher backstage wearing knee high wellies, covered in mud.

“Oh my God, what have you got?”

No dillydallying. As a temp, there was never time. All jobs came fast, and all jobs went fast.

“It just came in, this phone call is unbelievable timing because I’m allowed to recruit for fucking once, finally, and you’d be so perfect for it!”

She had said that too when you’d been hauled off to dog-sit a poodle for some CEO of a company you had never heard of for two months, so you held off on the jumpy excitement your friend seemed to be exuding down the phone.

“It’s very short term and the money is amazing – I need a personal assistant for a high-profile client.”

“How short term, how much money, how high-profile?”

Like you said, no dillydallying.

“We’re talking not even a full week, just five days, all expenses covered and the salary’s generous. Very generous. And the money isn’t even the best part.”

Temping meant everything was short term, but this was the shortest a possible job had ever lasted you.

“Okay,” you said, knowing things were always too good to be true. There had to be a catch.

“If this is for a tory politician, or like, actual royalty, I’m out,” you warned, earning a huffed laugh from your friend.

“Don’t let this put you off, but there’s nothing else I’m allowed to tell you. You’ll have to sign a non-disclosure agreement before I can even send the job description over, and I’ll need you down in London for the interview as soon as possible, like, today? Could you do today?”

Oh, she was serious serious.

Okay, so... what was five days, really? If it was shit, it’d be over quick enough. You could really use the money too if it really was as good as your friend was making it out to be. And maybe you’d meet Meghan Markle, you know, if it was actually going to be royalty.

“Are we... are we talking like, Hugh Grant or whatever? Adele, maybe?”

Your friend laughed heartily.

“I can’t tell you anything else until you sign the NDA, but, I’m being so honest with you right now, you’re not going to want to pass this one up.”

And so, you’d given her the go ahead. Sure. Try get me in for an interview, why the fuck not? She said she’d make a call, get your CV into the right hands, and would call you back in a minute. When she did, not all but 11 minutes later, she’d already e-mailed you the NDA to sign. The interview wasn’t that day, but the day after – still too soon, but ok – and if successful, you’d start immediately too.

“Don’t worry, I think the interview’s just a formality – they love your CV, and from the sounds of it, they’re desperate. You’re a shoo-in. Get that NDA back to me and I’ll send you everything you need to know.”

She ended the call letting you know to reach out to her if you had any problems, and you said you would, knowing very well that you wouldn’t. You didn’t have problems. It was part of your charm. You carried solutions. You were dependable, reliable, one hundred percent guaranteed to make everyone’s life easier.

The only person you ever made things difficult for, was yourself. The proof of it was around your ring finger – on the wrong hand now, but still there.

From the names mentioned in the e-mail, which you’d immediately googled, you became none the wiser. They really kept you in the dark about who you were going to be working for, and the job requirements list was a lot. But you were good at job interviews. You knew the right things to say, the right energy to exude, the times to smile, the times to frown in serious thought – you could sell yourself better than you could sell anything else.

And you were competitive to a fault. No matter how arrogant of a celebrity was going to need someone handling their business for five days; you were going to get that job, and you were going to excel at it. Watch me, you thought, as you packed a carry-on with enough underwear to last you five days in case you were right. And if you were wrong, you could just spend money you didn’t have and maybe stay in London for a few days anyway. Visit old friends and old familiar places, because you kind of missed the place if you were being honest.

The next day your train had been late, and the tube had been packed, and you’d almost been run over three times, but you didn’t care. London was gritty and grimy and perfect. The London-shaped hole in your heart could really only be filled with the smell of searing, hot dust that lingered underground and became thicker and more prominent the deeper down escalators would take you.

You aced the interview. Of course you did.

Every question you were asked felt like they were trying to find reasons to not give you the job. They were all questions about what you thought about certain things, what your opinions would be about certain situations, what you really wanted, and you’d rudely interrupted. You’d said that none of it mattered, did it? It didn’t matter what you thought about anything, what your opinions were or what you really wanted in any situation – what mattered was that you would do your job. What mattered is whatever the client wanted.

They��d congratulated you. Said you got the job. And then, right on cue, the door had opened behind you.

“Joe, come in, meet your new PA who’s going to be with you for the rest of the London Film Festival.”

Joe mother fucking Quinn walked in, smiling, looking at you, like you were an actual person that people could actually perceive.

“Hi, nice to meet you.”

It was only a brief introduction before Joe was off again, called out of the room by someone else, and he said he'd see you later. Smiled again, and God, it was the kind of smile that could defrost the coldest of hearts. Joe's expression was objectively neutral, this was just his face, but his eyes exuded kindness in its purest form. Almost dreamily so.

You cleared your throat as the door shut behind him. All right. Back to business.  

You were talked through the things you had already read the day before; the things you'd received in your e-mail. Things that didn't really need further explaining, but you listened politely anyway. You got a long explanation of how NDAs worked and it was almost laughable. Yes, they'd sue you if you broke it. You got it. But they were very adamant, needed to make sure that you really did in fact get it. Having to drag you to court wouldn't just be an awful thing for you personally, they also didn't want to do it because it was a lot of work on their end which they didn't have the time for.

Noted.

"All right. Get your things and meet us downstairs, your car is waiting."  

"Car? Where are we going?" 

"We're not going anywhere. You are. The itinerary, his full schedule, you'll find it all in your e-mail."  

And when you looked at your phone screen, you saw you'd just received it, mere seconds earlier. Man, these people ran a tight ship. 

Opening your e-mail in the car, you were greeted by a digital calendar that had all of Joe's days planned out, down to the literal minute. You could see past the five days that you would be working for Joe too, and although less busy, Joe had things happening nearly every day for at least the upcoming three months it seemed.  

"Wow,"  

This was... a lot.

It had everything on there. Wake-up calls, car pick-ups, lunch time, phone calls, coffee breaks, fittings... 

There were several film screenings scheduled every day, obviously, that was how film festivals worked, and you wouldn't get to go to any of them. You weren't hired to sit and watch films with Joe, unfortunately. You were hired to haul Joe from one place to the next. Accompany him. Get him coffees. Check for schedule changes, because, “Everything is always up for change, so you better keep an eye out!”. Things could be delayed, or be postponed, or switched around – times, or locations – and it'd be up to you to sort things out. Make it all run smoothly. It was your job to make sure Joe would get to the places he needed to be on time.  

"And he needs close eyes on him, because he tends to wander. Keep him company. He's used to having someone with him. A family member, a friend, but none were available for this. So, now he'll have you."   

So... you were a luxurious babysitter, if you really thought about it.  

"What other things are important? Anything that’s not been mentioned yet that needs special attention?" you had asked, and were met with a fast answer. 

"Networking."   

This whole week was all about Joe being seen and being spoken to by industry giants. Joe was invited to see many films, just about all of them, but it wasn't necessary for him to actually watch all of them. As long as he went to meet the directors, he'd be solid. 

There were other obligations too. Besides the screenings there were screen talks, in depth-interviews, panels, debates, workshops, partner events (Joe wouldn't be going to those, no worries) and networking events (Joe had to absolutely be going to those, worry a lot). The industry happy hours were where it all happened, you'd been told several times. 

Then, on Monday, day four, there was Joe's film screening - not his film, but the one he starred in. That showcased him. It'd be followed up by a Q&A, and then of course, happy hour after.  

To make things even easier, more simple, not at all hectic or stressful: Joe also had studio photoshoots, two of them, and phone interviews to accompany the shoots. They were scheduled, slotted tightly in between all the in-person events and to be honest, it all seemed a bit much. Too much. No wonder they hired a PA for the week. This was overwhelming to say the least. 

Your duties would end after the most important day. The awards ceremony. Film Festivals were a competition, and there were awards up for grabs. You'd need to make sure that after five extremely busy days, Joe would make it to the ceremony in one piece, in the right outfit, and at the right time, because people had already been talking, and Joe was meant to give a little speech up on stage if his film was to win.

"Remind him of that. Maybe help him with the writing, too?"  

Sure. Why not?  

"And there'll be two boxes delivered, not huge ones, it'll only be about 5000 copies, but they all need signing,"  

Delivered where? Copies of what? 

"Copies?" you asked, deadly afraid of sounding stupid. 

"Photographs."  

Oh. Alright. Of course. Yes. Fine. 

In the backseat of a car, on your way to wherever they were taking you - they hadn't been clear at all - you saw that the signing of the photographs hadn't been added into Joe's schedule yet. You put down a few options and would check with Joe later until what time he minded working before you'd set it in stone. First task done. Your job had officially started. 

Five days. One hundred and twenty hours of this. You checked the time. One hundred and eighteen still to go, technically, but, who was counting?

The car stopped and you heard the ratcheting of the handbrake being pulled by the driver. You'd arrived. 

"Um, where are we?" you asked, undoing your seatbelt and gathering your things, but before the driver could answer, your door was opened from the outside. 

"Hey, welcome," it was Joe, and he held out a hand to help you out of the vehicle. What a gentleman. That warm smile, there it was again. 

"Are you ready?" Joe asked, taking your suitcase from you with an excited glint flickering in his eyes, and you weren't sure exactly what you were meant to be ready for. The whole week, was the correct answer.

Joe walked ahead of you, up the steps of a beautiful South London terraced house. Quite the mansion, by London standards. Joe stopped and turned as he reached the door. "I've only just moved in, so please, don't mind the boxes and, um, the lack of furniture. It's a mess. The only room properly done up is yours, so don't worry about that! They've made sure that at least one of us has a nice bed to sleep in,"  

 Oh.  

"They made it look like a proper hotel room, I'm kind of jealous of it,"

This was Joe's home. His actual place, where he... you know, lived, and stuff. And where apparently, you were going to be staying too.  

"This is your house?"  

Joe stood in the door opening, and beckoned you in.

"It's just easier to have you close, come on in,"  

Oh, this was going to be an interesting couple of days. 

"Wonderful, thanks."

---  

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[endless-summer-soldier]

dr. feelgood - chapter twelve

pairing: Surgeon!Bucky x SurgicalIntern!Reader

summary: Y/N has a one night stand with a handsome stranger the night before starting her new job as a surgical intern. Little does she know, the handsome stranger also happens to be her new boss

warnings: must be 18+, drinking, some surgery descriptions, smut, self-pleasure, praise kink, oral sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, PTSD, choking, angst

word count: 3.7k

a/n: ask and you shall receive! I started doing my final proofing and got tired and decided to post so apologies for any typos, I'll fix them later lol. please enjoy this one and thanks for your patience!

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It took exactly three seconds for Bucky to come to his senses. The gentle click of the door shutting brought him back to reality and he realized he couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t pretend like his heart didn't skip a beat every time she came into the room. That every time she smiled at him, he completely lost his focus. She was all he thought about, day in and day out, even when he was avoiding her. He wanted a future with her. In fact, she was the first woman he'd ever met that he could see a future with. And he had messed it all up. 

What hit him suddenly, as she walked out of the house, was that if he let her go, he was just bringing on more trauma. He would never emotionally recover from losing her. He would be stuck with his PTSD night terrors and would always live life wondering what if things were different. One of the lessons he learned in combat is that life is short and precious, and it shouldn’t be wasted.

“I’m such an idiot,” he mumbled to himself. He flew out the front door, hoping he could still catch her before she took off. It was a monsoon outside, with water pouring down in buckets. He caught the headlights of her car flooding the driveway and he darted toward the vehicle without another thought. He didn’t waste time putting shoes on, running outside in just socks. While wet socks were one of his pet peeves in life, at this moment he didn’t care.

He knocked feverishly on her window before she could put the car in reverse. She was initially startled before she rolled down the window. 

“What are you-” before she could finish her question, his hand was around her jaw and his lips were caressing hers. This was the last thing she expected, but she didn’t stop him, wondering if this was the last time she’d feel his lips on hers. He was dripping cold rainwater all over her and the seat of her car but she didn’t even care. She leaned into him, savoring the taste of his gin-coated lips.

He pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers, stealing the breath from her lips. “I’m not giving up on us,” was all he said. 

That gave her the confidence she needed. This time she took the lead, placing both hands around his jaw and pulling him closer to her, smiling in between every delicate kiss. 

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispered in between kisses and she reacted by holding him tighter and running her fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t fight for us. I just wanted to protect you.”

She pulled away and nuzzled into his neck, “I know, I know Buck. It’s okay.” Their blissful moment was interrupted by the cheerful barking of a golden retriever. Bucky turned around to find Liberty running around in circles in the pouring down rain, sloshing through the mud. 

“Well shit,” he chuckled.

“You leave the front door open?” 

“Apparently,” he turned back to Y/N and gave her one more quick peck on the lips. “I better wrangle her up, Will you stay? I’ll meet you inside and we can talk?” 

She nodded and laughed while he ran off after Liberty, sliding shoeless in the mud as he attempted to usher the dog back inside. Y/N was already half soaked from Bucky’s drippage so she easily made the decision to cut the engine and run inside. She captured Liberty’s attention as she ran to the front door and the dog darted after her. Once Liberty had followed her inside, she knelt down to give the dog some attention and to keep her inside. Bucky ran inside and shut the front door behind him, sliding ever so slightly on the hardwood floor. Y/N smiled up at him as she stood up and he returned her grin. As if on cue, Liberty shook off the moisture from her fur, completely coating Y/N and Bucky in more rain water and mud. They both started cracking up, laughing at both their disheveled states as the dog simply walked off to her dog bed. 

Bucky stepped closer to her and placed his hands on her hips. 

“You know, this look is kind of working for me…” he said, narrowing the space between them.

“Oh yeah? You into the swamp monster look?” she bantered.

“More like queen of the swamp,” he said, inching closer to envelope her lips in his. Her arms effortlessly wrapped around his neck and he pulled her in even closer, so her body was flush against his. They were cold and wet and muddy, yet there was no place they’d rather be. Bucky couldn’t believe he almost let this amazing woman slip beneath his fingers. He was savoring everything about her now: her smell, her taste, her touch. But what surprised him the most was how at ease he finally felt. The past few weeks, he’d been so tense. He was worried about Y/N, he wasn’t sleeping, barely eating, and just getting by an hour at a time. Now it was like he could finally breathe again. He didn’t realize what he was missing until he had her back. And now he never wanted to let go.

She started to pull back for a breath, but he wouldn’t let her, verbally expressing his dismay with a hummed “uh-uh.” She smiled and he kept her close, kissing her again and then moving from her lips to her cheek to her neck.

“Bucky,” she giggled. He loved hearing that sound and it just encouraged him more. “We should wash the dog before she spreads more mud around the house.”

“I don’t care about that,” he replied.

“But it’s Steve’ house and-”

“I will deal with Steve’s house later. Right now, I’m not letting go of you.” He moved in close again, seeking the soft touch of her lips. And she had no working defense mechanisms. She sighed into his mouth, loving the feeling of being back together with the man she’d been longing for over the past few weeks. But the logical side of her won over in the end.

She pulled away and Bucky shifted his attention to her jaw, planting kisses up toward her ear. 

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal…” she offered.

“Mhm,” he replied, opting not to part from her skin.

“If we take a pause to wash up the dog, then we can pick this up later. In the shower.” Bucky froze considering his options. They’d never shared a shower together and it was something he’d always wanted to do but they’d never had the opportunity.

He let out a deep sigh into her neck, “You’re killing me doll.” She gently scratched the back of his neck and kissed his ear, signaling that their make out session was over for the time being. Bucky walked over toward Liberty and effortlessly picked her up in his strong arms. As he walked toward the bathroom he called out, “You better be helping me with this!” Y/N smiled to herself and eagerly ran after him.

It took all four hands to wrestle Liberty into the tub and that was only the first step. It was fortunate that Bucky and I were already soaking wet from the rain because Liberty showered us in bathwater as she splashed around in the tub. It took us a minute to find a rhythm, with one of us rinsing while the other shampooed. After about thirty minutes, I pulled the drain plug and we pried Liberty out of the tub, wrapping her in a towel. Once she was mostly dried off, we gave her a bone which she happily curled up with in her dog bed. 

I leaned against the kitchen counter, taking a quick moment to catch my breath, which didn’t last very long. Bucky approached with a smirk on his face and, without a word, swept me up into his arms. 

“Bucky!” I called in surprise.

“Pretty girl,” he countered, awfully pleased with himself.

“What are you doing?” I protested, as he started ascending the staircase.

“We’re getting you cleaned up.” Bucky strode into what I assumed was Steve’s bedroom, and before I could argue, he opened the door to the master bathroom and I was speechless. It was spacious to the point where it could’ve passed for a health spa. There was a giant soaking tub next to a window, with tealight candles lined up on the windowsill. Accompanying the tub was an upholstered ottoman holding a tray of bath salts, luxury oils, scrubbing brushes, and any other things you might need during a soak. In the corner was a beautifully tiled walk-in shower, complete with a rain shower head and a built in ledge that could double as a bench. Along the wall was a long countertop, with two sinks placed in front of the giant framed mirror. Before I could take in anymore, Bucky sat me on the countertop next to the sink, like I was a child and he was tending to a scrape on my knee. He walked over to the closet and pulled out two, lush looking, sage green bath towels, and hung them on the silver towel rack that was placed by the entrance of the shower. 

“This is…” I said, looking around the room with wonder.

“I know. Steve takes his self care very seriously,” Bucky joked. He turned the handle in the shower and the water started flowing through onto the beautifully laid tiles, mimicking the sound of the rainforest. 

Bucky made his way back over to me and I wondered what his next move would be. I was happy to sit back and enjoy the ride of whatever he had in mind. His face hovered in front of mine, as he placed his hands on the counter, his thumbs so nearly grazing my thighs. I studied his face, waiting for him to lean in and kiss me again, so that we could pick up where we left off. Instead, he planted a chaste kiss on my cheek and exited my personal space. His right hand found its way to my thigh and he slowly slid it all the way down my leg, until he was gripping my ankle. He extended my leg and brought my foot up towards his mouth, using his teeth to nip the top of my sock and carefully pull it off my foot. He planted a sweet kiss on my big toe and then repeated the process with my other foot. 

Then he moved to my hands, removing the rings and bracelets I had on and placing them carefully in a small bowl on the counter. His slow, calculated movements were turning me on more than I thought they would. As much as I needed to have him, I wasn’t going to rush through this. He removed my earrings, giving one of my earlobes a playful nip, before he pulled off my blouse, planting kisses from my collarbone down to my navel. He came back up to my eye level, but his fingers were already working on the button of my jeans. 

“I might need your help with this one,” he said, as he pulled down my zipper. I leaned back onto the counter and lifted my hips, allowing Bucky to pull at the waistband and slide the jeans off my legs. I sat back upright while Bucky kissed his way up my legs, taking a little extra time when he reached my inner thighs. I could see the hunger in his eyes and I knew that this teasing must be killing him, but it would all be worth it. His mouth found my bra strap and took it in his teeth as he lifted up slowly and released it so it snapped back onto my skin. His hands worked their way up my love handles and met at the clasp of my bra. 

“Ah ah ah…” I chided, shaking my head before he could continue. He gave me a confused look and I merely pulled at the hem of his shirt, “You are fairly overdressed.” He let me pull the shirt up and over his head and I tossed it across the room. He leaned back in, continuing where I stopped him but I simply shook my head again. I pulled the drawstring of his sweatpants loose and tucked my fingers into the waistband and he effortlessly wiggled out of the material, leaving him stripped down to my level, clad only in his boxer briefs.

“Happy now?” he asked, with a tilt of his head.

“Almost,” I smiled mischievously. He slowly closed his eyes and sent me a toothless smile, knowing what I was getting at. When he opened his eyes back up they locked onto mine like a wolf stalking its prey. It sent a chill down my spine and all I wanted was to feel his hands on me again. He placed two thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and easily pulled them down, stepping out of them and closer towards me. 

“You have some catching up to do,” he growled.  I smiled as he kissed me, this time with urgency. His hands were behind my back unclasping my bra with ease and it fell to the floor. He started kissing my neck as his hands ventured south and rested on my hips. It didn’t take him long to pull at my thong, and I raised my right hip up to aid him, and he happily accepted the help. 

I felt a bit of a breeze and shivered briefly, as my nipples hardened slightly due to the cool air and Bucky’s fingertips. He noticed my momentary shudder and grinned into the kiss. 

“Why don’t I warm you up a little,” he suggested, sweetly kissing my jaw before shifting his attention to my pert nipples. He took each one carefully into his mouth, giving them just enough attention and then continued on his journey, eventually kneeling on the ground. I hadn’t realized that’s what he meant, but I wasn’t going to complain. He gently pulled on my legs as a signal for me to come closer which I did. He ran his tongue up my sopping wet pussy to my clit and ran circles around the sensitive bud. My head fell back instinctively, missing the feel of his touch. He dove right into my folds, exploring with his tongue and forcing labored breaths out of me. 

“Bucky…” I called, running my fingers through his hair in an attempt to pull him back towards me. He took that as encouragement and increased his efforts, shooting his eyes up to watch my reaction. I let out a soft moan and pulled on his hair harder, which he seemed to enjoy. 

“Bucky, stop,” I softly commanded. He immediately stopped and pulled back, looking up to see if everything was okay. “I can’t wait anymore. I need you inside of me.”

He acted quickly, standing and collecting me off the counter with ease, and carrying me into the immaculate shower. The minute we stepped under the water, his lips were back on mine and I tightened my grip on his neck, pulling him as close to me as possible. My legs were wrapped around his torso and his strong hands were cradling my lower back. 

“God, I missed you so much,” he whispered into my neck. 

“Show me,” I challenged, feeling bolder. Bucky reacted immediately, pressing me into the cold tiles of the shower. I let out an exhale and he took that as encouragement. He expertly shifted my position so that he had a better angle to my entrance, all while keeping me secure. And then he thrusted into me and I almost came on the spot. A moan escaped my lips and Bucky picked up his pace, grunting into my neck. 

“Fuck baby,” I let out, knowing I wouldn’t last much longer. 

“This one might be quick, but I’ll make it up to you.”

“I don’t care, you feel so good inside of me.” He gave me a quick love bite on my shoulder and then gently returned me to the ground.

“Turn around,” he commanded, caressing my hips with his fingertips. I placed my hands on the shower tiles and bent forward as he pulled my hips toward him.

“You know me too well,” I smiled.

“Of course I know how my girl likes it.” He didn’t give me a warning when he entered me and I let out a squeal of pleasure. He gave my ass a smack before clutching my hips tighter and increasing his rhythm.

“You’re so wet for me, pretty girl. I’ve missed your tight little cunt.” He thrust in deeply and paused, wrapping his hand around my front to play with my clit. 

“Ohhhhh…” He was pushing my every button and I was nearing my climax.

“Those noises are driving me wild…” He picked up his pace again and I let out another moan. “Now be a good girl and cum for me.” That was all it took to trigger my orgasm. My back arched and I leaned further into the tile to stabilize myself while Bucky’s hands kept his strong hold on me. It all seemed to happen so quickly, as I panted and tried to bring myself back down to earth. 

“Wow…” I breathed through my satisfied smile. 

“I second that.” He slowly retracted and took my hand. “C’mere.” He pulled me towards him and wrapped his arms around my waist. I locked my arms around his neck and smiled up at him as he planted a few sweet kisses on my lips. 

“That was amazing,” he said, connecting his forehead to mine.

“I know, we’re pretty good at that.”

“And we keep getting better.”

“You think it’s because we’re in love now?” I suggested.

“It has to be that,” he said, kissing my nose. “Also, I didn’t pull out. I’m sorry. I got caught up in the moment.”

“It’s okay, I’m on the pill so we should be fine.”

“I won’t do that without checking with you ever again.” 

I placed a hand on his cheek and said, “I said it’s fine.”

“I know, but I still should’ve asked your permission.”

“Well, I appreciate that. Now can we get clean and spend the rest of the night cuddling?”

“We can do whatever you would like my dear.”

Once we finished up in the shower and dried off, Bucky lent me the T-shirt he packed and he put on a pair of sweatpants. We curled up together on the couch and turned on a rerun of Bar Rescue. 

I rested my head on his shoulder and he put his arm around me and kissed my temple.

“How are you feeling, pretty girl?”

I tilted my head so that I was looking at him, “Happy.”

“That’s what I love to hear.”

“All because of you,” I smiled.

“Ah, can I bring something up at the risk of ruining the moment.”

“I don’t think anything could ruin this night for me. Unless you break up with me.”

“Well I’m never doing that. But I do think we should talk about that night.” 

“Oh. Okay,” I shifted so that I was facing him, giving him my undivided attention. He collected my hands and held them tight in his.

“I know you said you pulled me out of the nightmare, but I don’t want to put you in that position again. It might not work next time. So I’m going to start up therapy again. It did help me a lot before and I only stopped going when I thought I had things under control. But I think it might be more of a lifelong thing.”

I nodded, “I think that’ll be really good for you.”

“It’s really hard for me to ask for help, but I do think it’ll make things better.”

“And I’m happy to go slow as we figure everything out. I want to make sure you feel comfortable with things.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to go slow. I’ve finally got you where I want you. But I can’t let that happen again.”

“We’ll ease back in. No sleepovers for a few weeks.”

“Well I’m not agreeing to that,” he smirked.

“What!?”

“I want to fall asleep next to you every night.”

“Yeah but-” I started to protest.

“I think we can start with staying at your house. It’s not my space and I don’t think I sleep as deeply because it's a different environment than I’m used to. Plus I’ve stayed over your place a handful of times and never had any issues.”

“Are you sure?’

“Positive,” he stated.

“Okay, we can start there and see how it goes.”

“I still want to have a back-up plan for you though. Maybe stash an air horn or something by the bed just in case. I’ll come up with something.”

I chuckled lightly, “I don’t think an air horn is going to work.”

“Why not?”

“Do you want to know what I did the first time?” 

“I am curious actually.” 

“First, I placed my hand on your cheek,” I announced as I demonstrated. “Then I slowly pulled you in closer,” He moved with my hand until his forehead was pressed against mine. “And then I did this,” I gently brushed my lips against his and he sat there stunned.

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” he commented with a small smile on his face.

“I thought if I fought back you would only push harder but that affection might confuse you.”

“And it worked.”

“It didn’t really confuse you, though. It sort of…calmed you. You curled into me and fell back asleep.”

 Bucky looked a little stunned as he considered this, “Smart. That was very quick thinking.”

“That’s why I’m in trauma.”

“I’ll give you that. But I still want some sort of back up plan in place.”

“Well I will let you think on that and come up with a plan because you probably know better than I do on this matter.”

“I can do that. So until we have a back up plan, no more sleepovers.”

“That’s fair.”

“Tonight I’ll let you sleep in Steve’s room with Liberty and I’ll take the guest bedroom.”

She wanted to protest, badly, because she couldn’t imagine leaving his vicinity. But she chose to respect his wishes. For now, she nuzzled into Bucky’s shoulder and entangled her legs with his, enjoying every second of being in his presence.

[braxiatel]

You know that “if it were a drawing I would call it a doodle or a sketch” incomplete fic I posted a while back?

Well here’s another from a few months ago.

Mumscarian (shocking, I know) hunger games au except instead of being told from the POV of someone in the hunger games it’s told by someone they left behind.

Content warnings are all similar in style and detail to the hunger games books, anx include injury (with specific mention of broken bones, spinal injuries, eye injuries, burns), references to genocide, displacement, and loss of a parental figure. Child- and animal endangerment, dissociation, non consensual body modifications, and possibly more that I cannot recall at this moment. Proceed with caution.

———

Cats have healing powers.

Scar was the one who told him that, on a cold winter’s day in front of the fire. Had it really only been months? It felt so much longer…

Something about their purring, Scar had said. He had been more specific than that, but Mumbo’s head was somewhat hazy at the moment.

But the purring healed you, Mumbo could remember as much.

Still, he was pretty sure Jellie alone wasn’t going to get him out of this one, not for lack of trying.

It was her fault he was here anyway.

… No, that wasn’t true. He would have said as much to himself if not for the fact that even moving his lips to take in gasping breaths was agony.

They had been warned before the bombs started to drop. There has been time to run, Pearl’s hand in his so they did not lose each other in the crowd.

Until he saw a woman carrying a goat in her arms and remembered-

“I have to go back,” he panted through strained breaths - he was nowhere near as fit as Pearl, who had been washing the coal-smeared clothes of half the Seam since age eleven to make ends meet.

“What?!” Pearl asked, continuing to pull him towards the hovercraft that was waiting on the green. “Mumbo if we stay we’re going to die. Whatever you forgot it isn’t more important than your life, if can be replaced, I promise. Just-”

“Jellie,” he interrupted her. “We forgot Jellie.”

Pearl’s grip slackened. The crowd kept moving around them, indistinct bodies pushing them forward and together.

“It will break Scar if he comes home and finds out she’s gone. I’ll just… two minutes, okay? I’ll be two minutes. I’ll go to his house and if she isn’t home I’m leaving without her. I just have to try.”

Pearl had looked as though she wanted to argue. She was practical though, in the same way Grian was, in the same way every child that grew up in the Seam was

“No sense in wasting time then. Go. Two minutes, Mumbo, and no more.”

Jellie continued to purr in his arms, unaware of the danger they were still in.

Suppose he had fancied himself a romantic, running back into a doomed town to save his sort-of-boyfriend’s cat.

Grian would laugh and call him an idiot… or he would have once. Grian didn’t do a great deal of laughing these days.

Mumbo could taste blood on his tongue. He wondered if any of the animals that lived in the forests beyond District 12 could smell it, if at any moment a mountain lion might finish him off, defenceless as he was.

He wondered if any of the animals were even still alive.

There had been blood on his tongue the day it started too.

His father - his adopted father that was - always chided him for the habit of biting on his cheek when he was nervous. But not today. Xisuma may have been smiling under his breather, but the Mayor of 12 was anything but calm. Wishing that another boy - any other than Mumbo - would be the one whose name was drawn today, did not sit well with Mayor Xisuma, who had been appointed to keep the citizens of 12 in line and dedicated himself to keeping them safe instead.

Today Mumbo bit his cheek, lined up with every other boy age twelve to eighteen in the district.

Well, almost. Scar had offered him a wink from the line of girls, standing out like a sore thumb in his trousers and the white shirt that had long ago been tainted a greyish brown by wear.

Although Scar was only a little more than a year older than Mumbo, he had been towards the back with the other seventeen-year-olds, while Mumbo was perfectly in the middle, still two weeks shy of sixteen.

“You look as if you’re about to implode from sheer stress,” a familiar voice has said from behind him.

Mumbo couldn’t remember what he had replied anymore, but he did recall how the hints of blonde in Grian’s hair had stood out in the sun that day. Pearl, he knew, always insisted on both of them having a proper bath before the reaping.

They would have shared the same banter they always did. Grian would tease him for being nervous when his name was barely in the draw at all, and Mumbo would mentally assure himself that Grian was right, he was safe.

That had been the day he learned what he should actually have been fearing all along.

The world had stopped turning when Scar’s given name was called out.

It had taken a moment before anyone had recognised it, it had been years since he used it last after all.

“I prefer Scar, actually,” he had corrected, stepping out of the lineup with a smile on his face.

Scar’s nose wrinkled when he smiled and meant it. Mumbo had admired it a thousand times in breaks between lessons and walking home through the Merchant’s section of the district, had tasted it on his lips far too few times for Scar to go off to his death now.

Grian’s hand was a steadying presence on Mumbo’s back for only a moment before the next name was called.

“Grian Xelqua.”

This time the world had stopped spinning altogether. In Mumbo’s memory it did anyway.

His next real memory was sitting opposite Grian, in a room adjacent to his father’s office, babbling about making sure Pearl wouldn’t be left alone through sobs.

He had felt so awful about those tears. There he was, crying about the prospect of losing Grian and Scar, when his best friend and his boyfriend were both about to leave to die horribly in the Hunger Games.

He had only been given a moment with Grian before Pearl arrived. Even thinking about the look on her face as she went to tell her twin goodbye still chilled Mumbo to the bone.

Next, he had guided to see Scar, the seat still warm from Cub having sat there only moments ago.

Most people would have put Cub’s quick departure down to the fact that he and Scar were cousins so many times removed they were only barely more related than anyone else in the Merchant’s section.

Mumbo knew the truth to be something else entirely. Cub was a man of few words and a practical one at that. In the coming weeks, many would look sideways at his apothecary as it continued to be open even as Scar fought for his life in the games. Mumbo understood, though, and so did Scar.

“I love you,” it had been the first time either of them had said it, their romance still new. Now Scar spoke the words carefully, stroking Mumbo’s tear-stained cheek before he continued to add: “But when I leave this building I am going to have to forget that, and I want you to do the same. I love you, Mumbo, and that’s why I’m going to make sure you don’t lose both of us.”

At the time he hadn’t thought he would ever know greater pain than having to hide his feelings away, watching Scar use his golden tongue to charm the masses of the Capitol, convincing them of his undying devotion towards Grian, never once mentioning Mumbo in all of his interviews.

He was certainly in more pain now... Mumbo had always been a bit of a spoon, though, so it was no wonder he was wrong about that too.

Jellie crooned in his arms and Mumbo forced his right eye open - the left remaining stuck shut just as it had since the fire had licked across his skin.

Jellie’s fur may be a little singed, but Mumbo’s blood had put any fires that had touched her out. He almost wanted to laugh at that, but his lungs were stinging from the smoke and the ash in the air and it was all he could do not to choke on it.

Above the chasm he was lying in the wind blew harshly, stoking the fires consuming the forest around him.

It was definitely ironic that he should die this way. For months now he had had nightmares of flames, ever since that fateful day when the 74th Hunger Games had ended.

Grian had all but dragged Scar through the forests, Scar’s left leg trailing after him like deadweight and his right barely able to support him, fire chasing them ever forward.

Mumbo had been sick three times that day. When the fire started, again when a dagger was wedged into Grian’s right eye, and finally when the game makers had announced that Grian and Scar could not win together after all.

He had missed the part where they took each other’s hands and walked to the edge of a cliff, ready to throw themselves off together instead of either of them winning alone.

The fire crackled above the chasm again.

“Go,” he hissed through uneasy breaths, nudging Jellie with his shoulders. “Please.”

Scar would be devastated if she were to die this way, and he had only just started smiling again…

Hollow. That was the only word Mumbo had known that might describe Grian and Scar when they returned from the games. Facades, stitched together and polished by the best the Capitol had to offer, the very picture of Capitol beauty with none of what mattered left.

Scar had smiled and joked that hey, at least they had taken the tits while they were rearranging his skin to cover the fact that his leg had been mangled beyond recognition by a trap once meant to hold a fully grown bear. Mumbo had laughed. It hadn’t been funny in the least.

And while the things Scar said rarely failed to make Mumbo feel sick to his stomach, it was Grian’s silence that disturbed him.

That had come to a head one evening when Grian had torn the prosthetic eye from its socket, hurtling it so hard against the marble walls of his house in the victor’s village that the plastic had cracked. A new had arrived within the week.

Mumbo coughed and hacked, pain wracking his body as the smoke clawed on the inside of his throat and his lungs.

Stupid, stupid Mumbo. He had known the chasm was here, he had seen it on his adoptive father’s maps of the district enough time that he should have known to run the other way.

Granted, it had been more than half a year since he had last stepped foot in the mayoral office, when his father had disappeared overnight and his uncle had been put in charge of District 12 in his stead.

Xisuma’s brother had never been fond of either of them, and he paid little mind when Mumbo simply moved into one of the many spare bedrooms in Grian’s house in the Victor’s Village after they returned from their victory tour of Panem.

Officially he had become Cub’s apprentice, the district still needing medicine even though their one apothecary was now living with his cousin-nth-removed in luxury.

Unofficially he and Scar had finally talked again, combing out the tangled knots of their relationship and what it could even be now that Grian and Scar were only alive because of their status as the star-crossed lovers in the eyes of the citizens of the Capitol.

Mumbo loved Scar enough that he did not mind only holding Scar’s hand in private, did not mind how Scar looked at Grian in public view and in quiet moments at home when he thought no one would notice, did not begrudge Scar a single bit of the patience and space he needed before he was ready for Mumbo to kiss him again.

Scar, in turn, had not minded how Grian latched himself to Mumbo, how Mumbo and Grian would share a bed when nightmares kept them awake, and how Mumbo could not help but blush whenever Scar spoke of Grian.

In another world, they might have spent years dancing around the issue before they developed the emotional maturity to recognise that there was love enough between them for all three of them to share.

In this world, however, they were not afforded the luxury of time. It had felt as though Mumbo had only just gotten his two favourite people back, only for it to be announced that in a few months time, he would have to see at least one of them leave again, off to compete in the 75th Hunger Games as the only two living tributes in District 12 apart from Impulse, whose experience as a mentor was the only thing standing between Mumbo and the very real possibility that both of the boys - the men - he loved would return to him in a coffin.

Mumbo sobbed at the thought, then sobbed again when he continued to shake, muscles tensing and untensing around broken bones and ruptured organs as the morning sun rose to greet him, crimson red through the not-so-distant fires consuming his home.

Surely Grian and Scar were dead by now. The games… Mumbo was not politically savvy the way his two partners were, but he knew well enough that they had been supposed to die in the arena.

“Go,” he begged Jellie again, the burns on his face stinging as salty tears ate away at them.

Scar wouldn’t want her dead. Scar wouldn’t want anything, because he was no doubt dead in a box somewhere far, far away in the Capitol, but he wouldn’t have wanted her dead had he been alive.

The fires were close now, the air so thick even Mumbo’s desperate attempts for air seemed to yield none.

No one would miss him.

It hit him just then.

He was going to die, a broken body left to rot or burn in a chasm by a broken District. Grian and Scar would die too, his father had been dead for months. No one would even know that he was gone, just one name on a dizzyingly long list.

Silly, silly Mumbo, running back into a town doomed to burn to save a dead man from a broken heart. Pearl had been right, he shouldn’t have gone back.

Oh, Pearl! She would know he was gone. How had he managed to forget her? He felt he ought to know but his mind was providing nothign but static.

Another pang of guilt. He had promised Grian she wouldn’t be alone once, and now she would, all because he had been too sentimental. Because he had been too slow, clinging tight to Jellie as he watched the hovercrafts take off. Because he had taken a wrong turn, getting himself thrown into this stupid chasm by one of the countless bombs that had devastated the only home he had ever known.

“Go away,” he hissed at Jellie while he still had air left in his lungs to do so. “Shoo.”

Jelliw finally rose from her position at his side, earning herself a wet sob when her fur rubbed against one of Mumbo’s burns.

She yowled back at him, a familiar tone of complaint that most often harbingered-

Mumbo cringed when the first drop of rain hit his ruined skin, but instantly felt a wave of relief as water cooled his burns.

Soon the air was clearing too, his breaths less ragged but just as wet as it travelled through his ruined chest.

His one good eye fixed on Jellie as she sought shelter under an outcropping of rocks, looking expectantly at him, unaware that he couldn’t move to join her.

For now he was enjoying the relief of the rain anyway. His burns cooling, fat drops of rain slipping between his cracked lips to wet his tongue. He was certain he was far too calm when he congratulated himself on the fact he would likely bleed out rather than die of thirst.

Above him the fires hissed and sputtered, and for the first time since the alarms had sounded, he allowed himself to disengage from the situation.

His mind floated to the town he had grown up in. Would any of the Merchant’s Sector still be standing? He very much doubted it, given how long the bombs had continued to shake him to his bones and make his teeth clatter even after his tumble to the bottom of the chasm.

If any parts of the Seam were still standing it would only be because it covered a far larger part of the town than the Merchant’s Sector ever did, most of the houses barely able to withstand normal wind and weather.

Mumbo had called the Victor’s Village home for the past several months, but he found himself hoping it had been destroyed as well. There was nothing left for him there, even if he had held any hope of surviving.

Mumbo opened his eye with a start realisation: he very much did not want to die.

Silly thing to forget, really, but as had been established Mumbo could be rather silly.

He must have been drifting in and out of consciousness, because by now the crackle of the fire had grown distant, leaving a deadly quiet in its wake. The rain had stopped, and the clouds cleared enough to allow him to see the last rays of the setting sun painting the sky bruise purple.

He heaved in fresh air, his whole being shivering and shaking with the cold rain soaking his broken body.

His eye drifted to the side, to where Jellie was lying on her paws, watching him intently. She had a cut on her ear he had not seen through the haze of the smoke, but seemed otherwise unharmed.

Here were his choices:

He could stay where he was, dying of exposure or to his wounds.

Or he could try to move, and at least die somewhere slightly more dry and comfortable.

The choice would have been easy to Grian and Scar, he thought. Grian would have clawed his way out of the chasm by now, and not even death could have stopped Scar from holding Jellie in his arms.

To Mumbo it was far from simple.

See, Mumbo didn’t want to die, but he very much didn’t want to be in pain either and he had a feeling moving would hurt a great deal.

His mind was hazy, something that had been vivid earlier unclear to him now. Why did the thought of Grian and Scar make his eyes sting with sticky tears?

He didn’t want to leave them…

With a sob Mumbo realised he really had no choice at all.

“Jellie?” he asked. “Get Scar, won’t you? I need you to get him… I need you to get Scar so that he’s here when this is over.”

Jellie for her part stood and stretched, and that was enough to convince him that somehow the cat had understood his pleas.

Okay. This was it…

He flexed his toes but otherwise had no luck kicking against the ground.

No other thing for it, then…

If pain had weight the one that hit him must be hundreds of tons.

His lungs screamed for air, seizing as he dragged himself one little bit forward. The bone clicked in his arm, but far worse was the white-hot burning radiating through his spine and into his legs.

He wouldn’t have made it much further than half a metre when he collapsed against the wall of the chasm, his ears ringing… or perhaps that was simply the screams echoing through the chasm?

With each thundering beat of his heart panic spread further through his body, seaping into every muscle and every fibre.

“Help,” he called, voice hoarse and throat dry. “It hurts.”

A noise from above his head. A flicker of hope.

The rain had washed the blood from his face, at least enough that he could force his other eye open and locate the source of the sound. Jellie, despite her age, was quite athletic and had made it almost all the way to the top of the chasm.

Well, it wasn’t help, but it was a start, right? Jellie would run home and get Scar, or Grian, or maybe even Xisuma. Someone would find him…

The sun rose and at some point in the night Mumbo had stopped feeling the bite of the cold - in fact the chill dew on his skin was quite refreshing, as was the trickle off water next to his head.

He couldn’t move to drink it all, but with a tilt of his head he was able to gulp some of it down, soothing the dryness in his throat.

The forest was so quiet today. Mumbo had only ventured beyond the fence with Grian and Scar twice in his life, but what he recalled most clearly was how alive it had been compared to the stifling settlement they called home.

There were no birds now, no rustle of the wind in the leaves, not even the distant sound of hares and other small animals skittering through the forest floor.

Mumbo’s stomach churned. Was that roast meat he could smell on the wind? When had he even last had something to eat…?

He wished his clothes were not so heavy. If only they were lighter, he might be able to move and remove his shirt. When had the sun become so warm?

He tilted his head to drink more water, mud and ash sticking to the sides of his mouth.

The moon, too, was warm tonight. Mumbo had never known it to be as much before, but nonetheless, it was even warmer than the sun had been. He felt as though he was burning up.

The stars were so bright, as bright as Mumbo had only ever seen them through his father’s telescope. It had been the nicest thing they owned, the lense scratched but still functional enough that he had been able to look through it and dream himself far away.

They moved oddly, reflecting in the helmet of the person standing at the top of the chasm.

Their language was garbled too. Mumbo never knew there were animals that looked like people in the forest…

He blinked, tilting his head a little for a better look.

The person-animal recoiled and Mumbo wanted to shush it, tell it he grew up sheltered in the Merchant’s Section and had no idea how to harm it even if he wanted to.

It made another garbled sound. Except…

Except…

“-Nd a survivor. I repeat I have found a survivor. Requesting urgent medical attention.”

The person-animal - who may in fact just be a person, come to think of it - climbed down the side of the cave.

First they removed a glove, revealing pale skin, and then their helmet. A cascade of red curls fell out, framing a young woman’s face.

“My name is Gem, Scout for District 13. Can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?”

He blinked, certain he ought to know how to respond to that. His tongue, however, remained unyielding.

“Mumbo! MUMBO! Let me go! I need to see him!”

Mumbo wished he had the energy to turn his head and look up and see the owner of the voice, but he was simply too tired.

“Get him out of here and start working on getting a stretcher down here, I think his spine might be broken,” Gem said over their shoulder. Their tone was far softer when they turned around and spoke to him. “Mumbo? Is that your name? Mumbo, listen to me, you need to hang in there. Whatever you saw during the bombing of 12 could be very valuable to the resistance, so you have to hold on a little bit longer so we can get you to a doctor.”

The bombing of 12…

Mumbo knew he should feel something. Panic, grief, anger, anything at all.

In reality, he just felt tired.

“Grr… ggi,” he tried.

“You want Grian?” Gem asked. “Sure, sure. He’s on his way to the hovercraft and in a moment you will be too. I’m just going to give you something for the pain and the fever, okay?”

Fever? Since when did he have a fever?

A weight on his chest lessened a little, relief flooding through him as the dull throbbing of pain he had been feeling from his everywhere began to subside.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Gem instructed. “You might get a little tired but it’s very important that you don’t fall asleep.”

Mumbo wanted to open his mouth to tell them that of course, he wasn’t going to fall asleep. Instead he blinked and a moment later he was somewhere new. It looked like home, looking like the Market Square, only not at all. The Market Square should be bustling with late afternoon activity, judging by the sun being in the west. The market Square was surrounded by buildings on all sides, whereas this place barely had any rubble worthy of being called ‘walls’.

There was a mask over his face, one that reminded him of his father’s breather, its edges digging into his flesh.

“Let me go this instance or I swear I walk - and don’t think Scar won’t do the same. We both care about him and- Mumbo!”

Grian’s face entered his view. The Capitol liked to style him in a way that made him look older than a mere seventeen, but that was not the reason Mumbo could see no trace of the boy that had once sat next to him in school barely more than a year ago.

His one remaining eye was dark, clouded by unbridled fury.

His gaze softened a little when he sat next to Mumbo.

“Can I touch him?”

Yes, Mumbo wanted to say. His body felt so wrong, cold and hot and numb and aching, all of it all at once. He wanted Grian to hold him, wanted Scar to join in as well. Come to think of it, where was Scar?

“If you’re careful.”

Hold on, that voice was familiar. Cub? Why was Cub here? And where was ‘here’ anyway?

That train of thought died as cold lips pressed against Mumbo’s temple. Odd, Grian normally ran hot.

“Hey.” Another kiss, this time on his forearm of all places. Then again, it was one of the few places that didn’t tingle with pain… “Thought I’d lost you for a moment,” Grian whispered, one of his fingers trailing over the part of Mumbo’s arm he had just kissed.

The world shook, and Mumbo’s body went slack with pain.

“Gently,” Grian hissed over his shoulder. He looked at Mumbo again, and he looked so very human. “Be gentle… Mumbo? Mumbo?! Mumbo, you have to-”

If Grian actually told Mumbo what he wanted him to do, it was lost somewhere between the humming of the world around them and the static in Mumbo’s ears. His eyes had slipped close, and for the first time in days he felt safe to rest.

—

Mumbo was aching.

That was the first thought that crossed his mind. Next was this: he was not at home in the Victor’s Village, nor was he in the small apartment in the Justice Building that had been his childhood home.

The bed was too short for him, the linen too coarse, and most offensive of all there was an incessant beeping next to his right ear.

Heavy footsteps - familiar ones at that - approached and a door swung closed with a whir.

Right. The door opening had woken him in the first place.

He opened his eyes and had to blink when he saw the familiar face of his dead father.

“Xisuma?” he tried to ask, the name muffled by the mask sitting on his face.

“Oh, Mumbo, thank goodness,” his adoptive father said in the same tone as he would normally use when Mumbo came home half an hour late after taking the long way home from school with Grian and Scar. “Grian, he’s awake.”

Mumbo strained his eyes, only barely able to make out the bright red colour of a familiar sweater.

“What?” Grian, too, seemed to just have woken up. “Oh! Mumbo!”

A chair scraped across the floor and a moment later Grian came into view too.

“You’re alive,” Mumbo tried to say, trying to enunciate the words as much as he could with his mouth being as dry as it was.

“We could say the same to you,” Xisuma told him, pushing a lock of hair out of Mumbo’s face just as he had done when Mumbo first came to him at age seven. “I don’t know if you have the worst or the best luck in the world. Falling down a ravine like that, and staying safe from the fires and the bombs. Do you know the scouts only found you because Jellie found them and insisted they follow her? She’s getting a well-deserved rest now, but you’d better thank her when you’re up and about again… or well… Well, yes, when you see her.”

Though his father’s rambling was a comforting background noise Mumbo had missed dearly, one thing stuck out to Mumbo.

The bombs. The fires.

“12 is gone,” he shuddered.

“Some of the people made it out,” Xisuma told him. “The ones smart enough not to go running back after lost pets.”

Oh, had he really done that? Mumbo was certain he must be blushing with sheer embarrassment.

He couldn’t bring himself to regret it, though. Scar would have been devastated if anything had happened to Jellie.

Scar.

The thought struck him and the beeping sound increased.

“Gri?” He asked. “Where’s S…”

Mumbo choked on the words, his throat aching from the smoke he had inhaled and the dry air flowing through the breather covering the lower half of his face.

Grian waited for him to finish coughing, his hand resting on Mumbo’s right arm as a steady presence.

“He’s okay,” Grian told him, though the waver in his voice told Mumbo otherwise. Grian had always been a terrible liar, and Mumbo knew him far too well to believe him.

Judging by Grian’s expression he realised this too.

“He’s alive,” Grian corrected. “The Capitol have him. But we’re already looking into saving him. We’re going to get him back, Mumbo, I swear. You came back and he will too…”

Grian rose to his feet, kissing the same part of Mubmo’s forehead he had earlier.

“I’ll fix it all,” Grian promised him. “The two of us, we’ll find a way to bring him back, even if it means burning the Capitol to the ground.”

[gothgril69]

Levi Ackerman/Fem!Reader Royalty!AU

Summary: You dream of another life, a simpler one under the rays of the warm sun, where you find love and your brothers live happily.

But you're destined to serve, to be the black sheep of the family and married off to whoever your father pleases because your parents can't seem to harbor any love for you. Your brothers will serve in the war, side by side with their Chevaliers, and you'll be left to pick up the pieces or die trying.

And the one you thought always hated you, will be right by your side to catch you when you fall.

Overall Warnings: themes of sexism, minor character death, angst, depression, minor character death, smut (please check ao3 for all tags)

Chapter warnings: smut MDNI

Chapter Length: 7.7k

ao3 link

Historia and Ymir stop dead in their tracks, turning to you with wide eyes. Historia looks concerned, while Ymir stares at you as if she’s already been betrayed – you understand what it looks like.

“We are not allies,” you blurt, facing them to explain yourself. “I can assure you they are our enemies, the same as you.”

“You better explain yourself,” Ymir sneers at you, stomping forward through the open doors of their castle. You watch her short dark hair, tied loosely at the nape of her neck, sway slightly along with her hips accentuated by the trousers she wears.

“You must understand our hesitancy,” Historia tells you softly when Ymir disappears around a corner. “Things are changing.” 

Her blonde hair is braided, two sides pulled to the back, to allow you to see her features clearly. She’s beautiful, truly, and you can see how Ymir could fall for someone like her – they balance each other well. Although, you know Historia would not hesitate to do what’s best for her own country.

“I want to work together,” you tell her honestly. “If you’re willing, but I understand if you’re not and we’ll simply move on.”

“Let’s get you inside,” she tells you with a gentle hand placed on your arm.

She leads you inside the modest castle, Levi taking place behind you along with Erwin, Hange, and Miche. Navarre does not flaunt their wealth like Mirlenas does; dark stone brick walls lining even the interior of the castle, simple torch sconces lighting the way with minimal windows providing extra light. The floors are stone as well, but it still feels clean and wide open.

Historia leads you down a hallway. “We can discuss things in our meeting hall,” she gestures to an open doorway, a guard standing by with a blank face and cropped blonde hair. “Thank you, Nanaba.” The guard nods.

The meeting hall has wood floors, but they’re nothing like the patterned parquet flooring at home. A grand, round table is centered in the room, twelve chairs surrounding the mahogany surface, and you take a seat facing the doorway, but not quite directly across. Levi takes a seat next to you and you’re grateful, followed by Erwin and Hange sitting next to him. Miche stands guard by the door as Historia addresses you.

“Give me a moment with Ymir.” She gives you a sad smile. “She’ll come around.” You nod, and she takes her leave with Nanaba closing the door behind her.

You know very little of Navarre’s customs, your father only ever talking down about them and their “debauched” ways of living. They were more progressive than Mirlenas by far, sexuality and gender being something that was looked at far more loosely than Mirlenas. You admire them for living so freely, apart from the standards your society typically upholds. You wonder if Auguste would have felt more at home here, if Erwin feels as though he could have lived a life with him. You frown.

“If she even thinks about laying a hand on you,” Levi grumbles angrily next to you, a scowl evident on his face.

You sigh softly, appreciating his protection, but also anticipating a conversation later. You place a hand on his that rests on his thigh, rubbing your thumb back and forth across his fingers, and the tension in his shoulders seems to dissipate slightly. You understand, he’s worried about everything – so are you.

The doors open shortly after, a seemingly less irate Ymir striding through the doorway with Historia by her side – although her features are still in their natural state of annoyance. She takes a seat directly across from you while Historia takes hers across from Levi. “From the beginning,” she snaps, gesturing with her hand loosely before crossing her arms over her chest.

You tell her everything; how Zeke ambushed your brothers – you don’t miss the tension returning to Levi – the letter he sent you, every detail about the journey intended for Zaramund to negotiate until a storm caused your ship to crash on their shores. Historia lets out small gasps through the whole thing, and you notice how her eyes tear up when you mention your brothers’ deaths. Ymir’s eyebrows are slightly less furrowed by the time you finish explaining your side of things, her anger turning into reluctant understanding.

“I am so sorry about your brothers,” Historia mutters, wiping away tears from the corners of her eyes. “I am glad you landed on our shores before you arrived at Zaramund.”

“Thank you. I am as well,” you tell her gratefully.

Ymir speaks before you can continue. “You must know the state of Kaslogon before you start your journey again.” She sighs, and for the first time she looks tired, a hand placed on her forehead as she supports herself on the table. “You’re going to hate this.”

“We have a plan,” Erwin speaks up.

“Yeah?” Ymir lifts her head. “You can probably forego following that.” She hesitates, looking over at Historia for approval – Historia nods. “Grisha and Carla Jaeger are dead.”

Your lips part in shock, the hand resting gently on Levi’s now squeezing tightly as you try not to panic.

You’re too late. Zeke has enacted his plan and already killed his parents.

“What about Eren Jaeger?” Hange asks, their face curious as you process.

“Survived, but his location is unknown,” Historia says softly. “Apparently it was an assassination– killed by poison.”

“It was Zeke,” you tell them. You emphasize his point in his letter that made it known he would do anything to have you and stolen land.

“I’m going to kill that man,” Levi says on your right, still holding your hand but using the other one to press a fist into the table. 

“Well,” Ymir hums. “Seems we actually have something in common. He’s a tyrant, and once he’s secured you he’s going to come for Navarre with full force.”

“He won’t be securing anything,” Levi growls. Erwin raises a hand to him, gesturing for him to relax. You can tell it makes him more angry, but he obeys regardless and sits with his lips pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched.

“Our plan involved your help once we found ourselves in your territory,” Erwin starts. “I believe it’s in both of our best interests to work together in this war to stop Zeke.”

Historia looks over at Ymir, sighing softly before she looks back at Erwin. “We agree,” she says. “I wish no harm against Mirlenas despite our differences, and I do not wish for Aeron to suffer such a fate from the hands of Zeke Jaeger.”

“We’re willing to provide you supplies,” Ymir continues on for Historia. “Whatever you need to end this war before it goes further into our territory. I hope whatever you have planned will end with peaceful negotiations, but Zeke is a mad man.”

You look over at Erwin – he’s smiling. “Zeke himself can be handled, but I fear it will end with bloodshed.”

—

Your guest bedroom is smaller than the ones you have in Mirlenas, with just enough room for a full size bed and a vanity. Levi stands guard outside your door, and you didn’t miss the look of longing he gave you when the door was closed and Miche gestured to show him his own room. You’ve been spoiled recently, able to share a bed with him throughout your travels and to constantly be with him.

You’re pacing the room, fidgeting with the plain cotton skirts Mrs. MacLerie had given you. Should you bother him in the hallway, request that he stay the night with you? You fear being too attached, too reliant on him, when you should be able to handle sleeping alone for one night before your journey resumes. Your sleep is just so uninterrupted with him, nightmare-less – dreamless. His arms wrapped around you is what makes you feel safe alongside his promises of always protecting you. You’re his now, and he yours.

You sigh, and swing open the door with a roll of your eyes at your behavior. Levi immediately straightens up off the wall, looking at you with furrowed eyebrows and concern. You don’t have to say a word for him to understand, and you can see in his eyes that he’s grateful you want him inside. He steps through the doorway as you step aside, and your nerves are back again when he doesn’t say anything.

“We should talk,” you say, your voice sounding small. You cringe at your words, knowing if they were said to you that you would immediately panic. “Everything’s fine,” you blurt out when you see his mouth open – it snaps shut.

He ponders for a moment. “Okay.”

You frown, and begin pacing the room again. He sits down on the edge of your bed, waiting patiently for you to begin.

“We are equals,” you state. You cast a side glance over at him, seeing him staring at you with a blank face – you look down again. “If we’re going to do this… If we’re going to negotiate with Zeke, I’m going to need you by my side regardless of the decision I make. I’m an inexperienced Queen, I know, but you’ll make me look like a fool if you question my authority.”

You keep pacing, nerves getting the best of you as you continue to fidget with the fabric of your skirts. You desperately want to break the habit, and you force your hands by your sides as they end up in fists instead.

Levi stares at you as you pace back and forth, fists now clenched by your sides instead of incessantly pulling at the threads in your skirts. He hates hearing that man’s name, the same man that killed your brothers and Furlan, the same man that killed his own parents. Levi feels this urge to protect you fiercely as soon as the name is mentioned – he’d do anything for you.

But he heard what you said, and he fears that he’s overstepped your boundaries when he didn’t mean to. He doesn’t know how to balance it, the unquenchable desire to be your protector, to love you, and the side of him that is still your loyal Chevalier. You’re right, and he knows that.

You’re startled by Levi grasping your hands, unfurling your fingers so you’re no longer pressing your nails into your palms, your head jerking up to meet his eyes. “You’re right,” he says softly. You stare into his eyes, those beautiful pools of grey that look at you so softly now. “You are my lover, but you are also my Queen. I trust you, and I will push down my instincts to protect you when you are fully capable.” His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, his thumb brushing the soft skin under your eye. “I fear there is going to be a moment where I can’t be there for you when you need me.” He lets go of your face, taking a step back as he frowns at the ground.

You stare at him for a moment, the overwhelming pressure in your heart making you speechless. You can see the frustration and sadness in his features as he stares down at the ground, jaw clenched. Memories of Auguste, Theo, and Furlan’s deaths no doubt passing behind his eyes, the hopeless feeling of despair overwhelming him. 

You step forward and reach out, a gentle finger under Levi’s chin tilting his head back up. “I am here now,” you tell him softly. “We are here now, and until we join the stars as well then we will both do what we can.” You press your lips against his in a soft kiss, gentle enough to feel the way he exhales in relief. “I cannot live without enjoying your presence fully now, Levi. We have bickered for far too long, and as long as we live I will take your protection as long as you will allow me to protect you,” you whisper against his lips.

His eyes are closed as you look at him with half-lidded eyes, his lips slightly parted as he awaits more of your lips against his. His hands find your waist, and he gently tugs the laces of your corset free. “I’ll do anything you tell me to,” he whispers, eyes still closed as he removes your garment. They open just slightly. “I’m yours.”

You kiss him, firmly molding your lips against his as they move languidly together. Your hands find the cravat tied around his neck, fingers nimbly untying the fabric to cast it aside as Levi’s hands bunch up the fabric of your skirts to lift over your head. You only part for a moment to help him rid the fabric from your body, his fingers untying the flimsy skirt support around your waist as your own begin unbuttoning his blouse. Your lips come in contact again. He shivers under your touch, casting aside the skirt support and assisting you by lifting his blouse over his head by the collar once you’ve unbuttoned it enough.

You don’t immediately connect again, taking your time to relish in the view of Levi in just a pair of trousers before you. You’ve never seen him shirtless before, only a peek at his abdomen when he would wipe his brow free of sweat during a rigorous training session, but you had never paid much attention to the man. Now you openly ogle at him, staring shamelessly at the curves of his muscles, the way they flex slightly under your watchful eye, the way coarse dark hair trails down from his naval and disappears under his trousers. His hair is slightly tousled from his shirt being swept over his head, dark bangs barely hiding the lustful gaze he looks at you with. He’s always been remarkably handsome, piercing grey eyes, sharp, but soft, features, and you’re so grateful you’re the one that gets to see him so closely.

Levi does the same to you, openly staring at the way your nipples pebble under the thin cotton chemise provided to you. He’s never seen you like this before, not even when his hands grazed your sides in the countryside of Navarre, your back being turned to him and body being hidden under the sheets. Your hair is still down, it’s natural texture brushing over your collarbones and the nape of your neck – it’s grown longer since the start of your journey. Your curves are slightly silhouetted by your chemise, the short sleeves cupping your arms so your shoulders are free. The way your décolletage is revealed to him makes his heart palpitate, your skin sloping down to your breasts that are only hidden by thin, white cotton. You are such a beautiful woman – Levi curses himself for waiting so long to admit it.

You bravely step forward again, fingers beginning to undo the buttons of Levi’s trousers. He brushes your hair behind your ear. “What are you doing?” he mumbles, grabbing your hands to stop your process.

“I owe you,” you smile at him and lean in to kiss him again, freeing your hands from his to continue.

“You owe me nothing,” he whispers against your lips, his hands coming up to cup both sides of your face.

“Please– let me please you,” you breathe, begging for just a small taste of him, anything. You walk him back to the bed when he doesn’t openly oppose, guiding him to take a seat when the back of his knees press against the edge of the mattress. Your fingers finally finish unbuttoning his trousers as you kneel on the ground, gently pulling them, along with his undergarments, down as he lifts his hips to assist you and kicks them off to the side with his shoes.

You openly gape when his cock springs free, already hard and inflamed at the tip as it leaks a small amount of clear fluid. You look up at him, eyes doe eyed and innocent, and Levi bites back a groan at the sight. “You don’t have to,” he tells you honestly, because he can tell you might be overwhelmed by the pressure of performing well for your first time. 

“I want to,” you insist.

Your lips are barely parted as Levi brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, pushing past and watching as you immediately close your lips around it to suck on it. You pull your mouth off with a pop, your cheeks flushing at the sound as you keep looking up at him. He looks patient, blank features staring down at you with only the kind look in his eyes telling you that it’s okay if you back out now, that he’ll still hold you tonight while you sleep.

You keep your eyes locked on his as you take him in your mouth, lips wrapped around the head of his cock with hollowed cheeks. The gasp Levi let’s out is unexpected, and you savor the sound of his unabashed moan that escapes him when you take him further. His skin is slightly salty as you wrap your tongue around him, coaxing another soft moan from him as he gathers your hair to hold it back for you in one hand, establishing a grip against your scalp. You’ve never done this before, but you try your best based on instinct.

“Fuck,” Levi moans, his chest heaving up and down as you bob your head. “How–” Levi let’s out a small whine when you push down further, determined to take him fully as you close your eyes and feel the dark hairs on his skin brush against your nose. “Christ, Aeron– shit– you’re gonna make me cum.” You gag slightly and pull back, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock as you use your hand to slide up and down the rest you can’t quite fit. 

You open your eyes to look up at him, tears forming on your waterline and drool spilling from the corners of your mouth. God, you’re a sight to behold, and Levi pulls back on your hair to lift you off of him when he feels his climax approaching fast, your hand still pumping him to completion. He can’t remember the last time he finished this quickly even by his own hand.

His cum spurts in white hot ropes against his abdomen, coating his skin as you watch his eyebrows furrow with pleasure, eyes closed and mouth agape in silent ecstasy. His breathing is labored when he comes down from his high, cheeks flushed as he opens his eyes to look down at you staring up at him in awe. He’s beautiful, strikingly so, and being the source of his pleasure has your own stomach twisting in knots as your clit throbs.

“Come ‘ere,” he says, assisting you as you stand up, wobbly from being on your knees on the hard wooden flooring. You sit down next to him, grabbing at the skirts on the ground to wipe him clean. “I guess Mrs. MacLerie doesn’t need those back,�� he mumbles, taking the fabric from your hands to wipe his abdomen.

You laugh lightly, feeling as though you’re walking in the clouds now. “No, I don’t think so,” you mutter, leaning into his side to kiss him softly. It’s slow, gentle, as he relaxes under your touch and you move to straddle him, hands cupping his face as you swing your leg over his. You can’t get enough of him, desperate to feel all of him against you, desperate to feel his cock throb inside you and coat your walls instead of his abdomen.

“Aeron,” he breathes against your lips, hands grabbing your hips as your chemise rides up and exposes your ass and cunt. You lower yourself down, gasping at the feeling of your wet pussy coming into contact with Levi’s soft cock. “What are you doing?” he gasps as you start rocking your hips back and forth, feeling his cock rub through your folds and into your clit, hardening as you continue.

“Feeling you,” you moan. “Oh.”

“I can’t claim you here,” he groans, but his hands do nothing but move to your ass as you continue to grind yourself against him.

“Stop being such a gentleman,” you mutter, tilting your head back and closing your eyes, wishing he would just fuck you right here and now as your arms drape over his shoulders.

“I am to a fault,” he mumbles, leaning forward to press kisses onto your neck. “I want to savor you, take my time with you.”

“Please, Levi,” you whimper. Every time you feel the tip of his cock rub your clit you feel breathless, stimulated, but not quite enough to make you feel euphoric.

His hand makes it’s way to your throat, establishing a gentle grip on the sides to just barely cut off the blood flow to your head and making you feel all the more inebriated off of him. “Then you can do it, my sweet girl,” he hums against your collarbones, lips trailing down to your chest above your breasts. “Make yourself cum all over my cock.” His voice is barely a whisper, and the lewd sound of your wet folds gliding over him make you blush.

Your head is tilted back, relishing in the feeling of your bodies pressed so closely together as you let out a gasp. “Help me,” you whimper, needing just a little more stimulation than grinding against him provides. He doesn’t hesitate, the hand guiding you forward and back by your ass instantly coming in between your bodies to apply circles to your clit.

“That’s it,” he mumbles, pulling you back to him by your throat and kissing you as you whine against his lips. You pant through your open mouth kisses, eyes scrunched shut in concentration as he gets you off. You’re so close, desperation lacing it’s way into the sound of your breaths and moans as you reach the cusp of your climax. “Cum for me, amour– Fuck you’re drenching me filthy girl,” Levi groans, your breath mingling together as you both get lost in the feeling of each other. Nothing matters but him.

You cum hard all over him, eyes rolling back as he lets go of your throat to help you through it by grabbing your hip, his thumb still making circles over your clit. You practically black out, vision blanking as you feel nothing but bliss pulse through you. Levi guides you through it until you’re panting, head falling forward into the crook of his neck while his arms wrap around you to support you. His hands glide under your chemise, rubbing soothing circles into your lower back as it rides up your waist.

God, he can feel you clenching, drooling all over his cock that’s hardened again and he resists the urge to fuck you into the mattress. He can feel the mess of your cream dribbling onto his thighs, creating a sticky concoction of sweat and your cum to clean up in a moment, but he bares it for you despite his urge to immediately get clean. You’re ruining him, absolutely taking all of his willpower away when it comes to serving you – the woman he never thought he’d bend over backwards for, but he can’t imagine it any other way now.

You feel drained, and you’re not sure how long it’s been when Levi finally pushes your shoulders gently and a hand comes up to hold the side of your face. “You alright?” he asks softly. You nod, only a mumble coming out in response. A deep rumble of a laugh comes from him, a satisfied smirk on his lips. “So pretty when you’re fucked out like this,” he hums, his thumb gently swiping against your bottom lip. You give him a delirious smile in response.

“You stay?” you ask him softly, voice sweetened in hopes of him holding you as you fall asleep.

“Of course,” he murmurs, swiping leftover tears from your cheeks.

“You don’t care what the others might think?” you ask, head tilted as you lean into his touch.

“As if they don’t already know,” he mumbles. “Come ‘ere.”

He easily lifts you with him as he stands up, your legs instinctively wrapping around him as he supports you with his hands on your ass. He carries you to the side of the bed, using one hand to pull back the covers as he supports you effortlessly, and lays you down under the sheets. “Stay here,” he whispers to you, and bends down to kiss your forehead.

Levi picks up his clothes that are scattered on the ground, buttoning up his trousers and throwing on his blouse – he doesn’t bother tucking it in or fixing his hair. He looks over at you and can’t help but smile softly at the way you’ve seemed to instantly fall asleep, the travels of the day finally catching up with you. He makes his way to the door, putting on his boots and shutting it as softly as he can behind him as he exits your temporary bedroom in search of warm water and cloth to clean you, and himself, up before he joins you in bed.

He wanders the halls, the dark stone contrasting the white painted wood he’s accustomed to in Mirlenas. He makes it down one hall on his way to the kitchen Miche had shown him earlier when he runs into Ymir herself, stopping as soon as he rounds the corner and she comes into view.

“Ah, guard dog,” she hums, smirking – the nickname makes the hair on his neck rise. “I see you had some fun tonight. Bedding an unmarried woman– a Queen at that? That’s quite brave for a Mirlenas knight.”

Levi isn’t sure if he’s gotten more bold because of where he stands with you now, but he has to bite back his curses at the woman before him. “It’s Levi.”

She laughs. “Alright fine, Levi,” she scoffs. “How’d you end up lucky enough to bed a woman like Aeron?”

He doesn’t bother correcting her, telling her that he hasn’t technically bedded you. “I was her brother’s Chevalier,” he tells her honestly, crossing his arms as he looks at her. “Hers in the last three years of his life.”

“Ah,” she says, gesturing for him to follow her – he hesitantly moves. “And you were there for their deaths? Witnessed them?”

Levi stills, footsteps pausing on the cold stone floor. She turns around to face him, a split second of shock displaying on her features before she controls them again. He can feel the amount of fury showing on his face as he spits out through clenched teeth, “Do not–”

“Right,” she says and turns back around. “Sensitive subject.” Her footsteps continue forward and Levi reluctantly follows. She leads him through the corridors, long hallways that don’t turn too much to the point where he’ll get lost, and soon she’s opening a door and holding it behind her for him. The small room has linens on the shelves, and Ymir takes a few cloths down and throws them at him – he catches them easily with a scowl on his face. “You know, Aeron seems like a special woman, much better than her father,” Ymir continues while she walks out, clearly expecting him to follow. “She’s fiesty, and Miche tells me you got upset with her for revealing who she was at the gates.”

“I wasn’t–”

“She has courage,” Ymir interrupts, looking back at him over her shoulder. “And honestly, she’s the only one capable of taking down Zeke in the end whether she makes it or not.”

Levi scoffs. “As if she wouldn’t make it.”

She whirls on him. “Well then you better be there. Every step of the goddamn way,” she sneers. “Historia might have faith in Mirlenas, but the only person that’s shown me they can handle it is Aeron. Even Commander Smith himself seems like he’s acting on a hunch and me and Historia can’t afford a fucking gut feeling. If Zeke makes it here we’re done for.”

Levi’s fists clench around the white cotton cloths Ymir had given him and steps forward to meet her challenge. “You act like you know everything, but you have no idea what I’d do for her.”

“Would you die for her?” Ymir questions viciously.

“I would do anything for her. I would die the worst death if it meant she would be freed from whatever threatens her,” he vehemently tells her. “You know nothing. You know absolutely nothing about us, or the bond we share–”

“You’re mated?” Ymir takes a step back, bewildered.

“No–”

“How can you be bonded if you’re not mated?”

“We will–”

“Pray it’s not too late when you decide to,” she huffs and spins around, pushing a swinging door open to the kitchen as Levi follows her.

“She’s mine, and I hers,” Levi says, quieter this time. “Zeke won’t lay a hand on her even if it means my own death to protect her, and Kaslogon will have no rein over any more land. We’re fighting him ourselves and you should be grateful for the protection your country is being provided.”

Ymir grips the counter, her back facing Levi as he stands by the entryway. “We are,” Ymir mutters. “You’ve been gone too long.” She grabs a kettle of water and pours it into a small craft, shoving the already warm water into Levi’s grip. “Go.”

Levi wordlessly takes it from her and steps out, leaving Ymir to sit quietly in the kitchen.

She’s scared, Levi thinks as he makes his way back to you, and he can’t blame her. The only thing he fears is losing you, and he can sense that Ymir is only scared of losing Historia to a war they can’t win. He’s already tired and selfishly wants to live in the moments where it’s just you and him, when he’s holding you so close your heartbeats practically melt into one.

He exhales softly, looking down at the ground before he slowly enters the room to take care of you.

—

“Are you prepared for this?” Erwin’s voice cuts into your thoughts.

You’ve gotten yourself together, disregarding Historia’s attempts at sending in a handmaiden and opting to get yourself ready. You’ve braided your hair and styled it in an updo, something that will last the journey to Zaramund. Ymir had delivered fresh clothing for you and you’ve changed into the woolen skirts and cotton blouse, a thin chemise that was made out of quality cotton underneath, and a woolen cloak for your shoulders. You didn’t miss the look her and Levi shared as she stepped into your room and spotted him – you didn’t ask about it, only glad they’ve come to some understanding it seems.

Your temporary horse whinnies under you, a dark mare that made you miss Saxson deeply, made you wonder if he was happily grazing next to Arwen on the coast of Mirlenas. Historia and Ymir provided supplies for you in a small wagon led by two smaller horses, and the rest of your soldiers were provided their own. You expressed your gratitude to both Historia and Ymir, earning a kind smile accompanied by a hug from Historia and a reluctant nod from the latter telling you to “not mess this one up.”

You’re almost positive you caught the upturn of her lip when you smiled back at her.

Erwin sat proudly on his own stallion by your side, regarding you with such care he rivaled Levi now in the way he wordlessly vowed to protect you. “Yes,” you simply answer him. There’s no need to elaborate on how your stomach twists into knots whenever you think about stepping foot inside the castle home to the Jaeger family. How could you ever be truly ready?

The easiest way to reach Zaramund would be to cross the bay between Navarre and Kaslogon territory, but it would leave you vulnerable to Zeke’s soldiers on the coastline – you’re not quite fond of water yet anyway. Instead you would be crossing through the valley of the mountain range that separated the two countries, a small path between towering mountains that would be covered in snow this time of year. From there it would be an easy trek into the capital city, but your nerves still threatened to overcome you.

And it started off simple enough, with two days passing by easily as you trekked across Navarre’s hillsides, rolling green making it easy to navigate and allowing horses to graze. Plenty of streams intertwined throughout the land, providing drinking water for your traveling squad. It was peaceful, nice even, while you appreciated the landscapes around you as your horses made their way through, or while you knelt down next to streams to fill the leather canteen provided to you.

It wasn’t until you reached the start of the valley that your group came to a full stop. The map given to Erwin was clearly deceiving, showing more rolling green hills in between tall mountains, streams flowing down from the mountainside. Granted, it was winter, but the sight before you was not at all how you imagined or were told about.

The earth was brown, no longer covered in grass and resembling a desert instead with visible drought lines along the side of the mountains and clear signs of dried up streams. You couldn’t blame the Queens, they warned you they haven’t had anyone travel these areas since the war began, and with a harsh winter already making it’s presence known far worse in Navarre than Southern Mirlenas, a drought before the snow melted was inevitable. 

The air was dry and chilled you to the bone as it swept in between the mountains, blowing the stray hairs that have managed to escape your tied up hair back. One hundred kilometers of this would have to be crossed to reach the other side where you had no idea about the terrain of Kaslogon. You’ve heard your father talk about how sparse it normally is, and you can only hope that in a twist of luck that the land spares you from it’s usual standing.

“We’ll stock up on water half a kilometer back and then make our way through,” Erwin announces to your soldiers. You give him a nod, tugging on the reins of your horse to turn her around and earning a disgruntled huff in return.

—

Any gods that may exist have never been on your side.

The sight was startlingly contrasted; white peaked mountains sloping down to dusty cliff sides. You were surrounded by snow you couldn’t reach, and dirt that had no life to it. You’re almost there – roughly seventy five kilometers have been trekked, and you’re just starting to grow weary as the sun sets. Shadows grow longer, the sky darkening and revealing the stars above your heads with some getting shadowed by the mountain tops.

“We should rest,” Levi speaks up, addressing Erwin. You’ve slumped down a bit on top of your horse, posture weak and limbs growing tired of riding all day. You’ll be on the outskirts of Zaramund tomorrow evening, but Erwin wants to camp just out of reach of the capital city so you can all gather the needed strength. 

I fear it will end with bloodshed. 

You hope that’s not the case.

All of the horses come to a stop, with Petra and Eld directing the horses towing the wagon to stop and allow access to supplies. You weren’t as prepared as you were in Mirlenas, settling for rucksacks instead of tents and hoping it wouldn’t rain on you despite the needed water. You hopped off your horse, beating Levi’s attempted assistance, and began helping set up camp. You didn’t know much, but you could at least help Petra gather supplies for cooking tonight's meal over the fire being prepared.

“We can take care of things,” Levi tells you, reaching into the back of the wagon for a crate – Petra glances over at you with slightly raised brows, taking that as her signal to leave your side to give you privacy.

“What kind of leader would I be if I let everyone do this for me?” you ask him, turning your body to face him with a hand on your hip.

He looks at you for a moment and then glances around to see everyone else busy with a task as the two of you are partially hidden behind the wagon. “Right,” he mutters and kisses your forehead. “I’m only letting you know that you can take a break if you need it.”

He walks away with a crate in his hands, a knowing look on his face. You frown in his direction before gathering more supplies for Petra.

“Thank you, Aeron,” Petra smiles at you when you hand her a pot and cooking utensils. It’s just the two of you as you both kneel down by the fire, settling in to hang the pot and get dinner situated for the rest of the group. You look up and spot Levi, discussing with Erwin and Hange, although you’re not sure what and can’t tell by the animated look on Hange’s face and the bored expression on Levi’s – Erwin is simply listening.

You hear it before you see it.

A gunshot rings out, the sound of a rifle piercing through the laughter and calm sounds of your soldiers setting up camp. Petra tackles you to the ground hastily, using her body to shield yours as she urges you to crawl with her under the wagon of supplies to take cover. Your eyes are wide, heart rate soaring with the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you hold onto her and she does the same to you.

Then you see it – them. Eld and Gunther are lying down in the dirt, blood pooling around their bodies as everyone frantically takes cover and grabs their weapons. You gag, choking back your tears and the fear that’s consuming you as you look onto the chaos unfolding. You miss the eye contact Petra makes with Levi before she’s pulling you out from under the wagon despite your protests, kicking up dirt as both of you scuffle towards him.

“Go!” Petra pushes you towards him, causing you to stumble forward and barely catch yourself before Levi is pulling you up with one strong arm. Your legs straddle the front of the saddle, your back pressed so tightly to his chest you can feel his frantic heartbeat.

He positions you in front of him on his stallion, using both hands on the reins with arms that cage you in as you frantically look around and the horse sprints forward. Mikasa is hidden behind part of the wagon, using it as cover as she aims a rifle up into the mountains, a determined look set on her features. Armin is next to her, crouched down and holding a musket as he watches her back.

Your eyes find Oluo next, lying on the ground with Petra leaning over him as she frantically shakes him. You gasp, and turn your head down when you see his knee cap blown out and blood leaking from his thigh like a geyser.

“Eyes forward Aeron,” Levi’s deep, comforting voice intercepts your dark thoughts. “I’ve got you.”

You feel obligated to listen to the smooth intonation of his voice, his words trying to pull you back from spiraling as your mind wanders to thoughts of your brothers and the way they probably suffered in death. You keep your eyes focused on the horn of the saddle, your hands holding it so tight your knuckles become lighter in colour. You have to trust Levi to get you two out of this, trust that Erwin, Hange, and your soldiers will make it out alive – you know you’re their priority and you hate it.

—

Levi rides throughout the night, your body nestled against his chest and in between his arms as his borrowed stallion carries him forward. You’re sleeping now after hours of traveling and worn off adrenaline. Your body is turned just enough for you to rest your head on his shoulder while one arm holds your waist tightly to make sure you’re okay, his arm remaining flexed to keep you secure.

He’s angry, scared, and desperate to feel safe again. He caught glimpses of the Kaslogon emblems on the men that attacked them, and he wonders why the hell you’re even going to negotiate instead of declaring an all out war with them. But he knows how you are, how desperate for peace you are without bloodshed.

He holds you tighter. You’re okay. You’re alive.

He didn’t check to see if anyone was okay, didn’t bother stopping the sprint of his horse just to see if any of his comrades were following him out of the mess. The decided campsite for the next evening is his destination, a marked spot on the map that’s in Erwin’s possession and Levi can only hope he makes it to the right spot.

He rides for a few more hours until he sees the lake that looks to be the same size as the one on the map, the sun making it’s way over the horizon and casting a soft glow onto your cheeks. He’s glad you got some sleep, and he’s glad you’ll have a whole day and night to rest and get your bearings before Erwin inevitably forces you to move into the capital city of Zaramund.

Levi pulls on the reins with one hand to have the horse gently come to a stop, a small huff coming from the animal that deserves to rest as long as it can before he drags it into hell again. You stir, a small mumble that Levi manages to smile at as he looks down at your pretty face resting against him. He lifts his hand from the reins, using a thumb to caress your cheek and wake you up further from your sleep.

“We’re here, mon cœur,” Levi mutters to you. You open your eyes and stare up at him, the swirling of your irises that are warmed by the sun taking his breath away. “You’re okay,” he whispers, to reassure you that he’s got you, that he’s taken care of you and protected you from harm, in your sleepy state. 

You remain quiet and tilt your head up, the soft press of your lips making him melt into you as your lips move gently against his own. He sighs when you break apart, soft breaths mingling with his as he leans his forehead against yours. 

You’re okay. You’re alive.

—

It’s well into the next evening by the time you hear the distinct sound of hooves running against the soft grassy earth around the lake. Levi keeps you and the horse hidden well, letting you rest after he’s woken up from a nap and feeding you with a rabbit he managed to catch with a simple trap. Your eyes are frantic as he pulls you against a tree with him, holding you close as he peers around the bark and out into the open plains of rolling hills.

You can feel the tension leaving his body as he let’s out a sigh of relief, his hold loosening on you ever so slightly and signaling to you that it’s not the enemy. You allow him to help you up, his hand firmly grasping yours to guide you out from cover.

Your eyes tear up immediately when you see Erwin riding strong on top of his white stallion, Hange next to him on their own horse. You feel the tears fall when you see their head wrapped in bandages, one eye covered with a small blotch of blood soaked into the fabric.

The rest of your soldiers follow suit, and your heart feels like it’s in your throat when Petra rides at the back of the group on top of your dark mare, her face covered in grief. You let Levi’s hand go and run to meet your soldiers, your friends. Erwin is the first to get off his horse, practically leaping off and handing the reins over to Armin next to him, and then he’s waiting for you with open arms as you hurl yourself into him.

He crouches down to hug you, large arms wrapping around your frame and engulfing you tightly as you cry into his dirtied no-longer-white blouse. He let’s go of you to check if you’re hurt, calloused hands swiping your hair off your face and holding your cheeks to get a good look at you. His touch reminds you of Auguste, and your hands come up to hold the back of his as you give him a small, sad smile.

Hange walks up next to you, and you don’t miss the look of shock when you abandon Erwin’s touch to give them a hug. “I’m okay,” they mutter softly, and you make a mental note to ask them about their eye later.

The rest of your soldiers say their hellos, sorrow permeating the air with so much thickness you could choke on it as the tears never leave your eyes. They find their spots on the grass, sitting down with exhaustion leaking out of their bones after tying their horses up to rest and graze on the long grass.

Your eyes find Petra again once Erwin and Hange leave your side to talk to Levi, and your already broken heart aches when you see her sitting atop your mare, her dejected spirit idle. You wipe the tears from your cheeks and walk up to her quietly, carefully, as if she was a hunted wounded animal seconds away from startling. 

“Petra, mon amour,” you mutter. She startles, big golden brown eyes looking down at you from her spot on top of your horse. Her hands are covered in blood, the front of her uniform stained red from holding her loved ones close as they die. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You hold her in your arms as she breaks.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 7)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

“What’d you think? Should we climb it?” Tyson asks his district partner, teasingly.

She is two years his junior, still not an idiot. The giant pile of sand funneling in from the top of the arena is no hiking expedition. “No, we should save our strength, like Haymitch said.”

“Did you know the tallest mountain in the world was called Mount Everest? Before the founding of our great nation?” He presses on, largely ignoring Y/N’s sage advice.

“What do they call it now?” She wonders.

“Trick question; tallest mountain in the world was actually Mauna Kea.”

“Now’s a bad time for trivia.” Y/N decides, a hand at her brow to shield the blazing sun.

“It’s the only time we’ve got.”

Y/N startles awake, as she always does from dreams of him. Dreams of a stranger, who in under two weeks became her best friend. The games are funny that way, time moves differently there. People who standby you in the arena become closer than people you’ve known for years. The ones that haunt you forever.

She thinks of him often. Though Y/N never had a brother, she decided a long time ago, that is where Tyson fit. How he taunted and teased her, protected and loved her, all at the same time. And when she named her son Everest, sealing the tiniest drop of Tyson in her blood, Y/N found some peace with it. Giving new life to the boy who died so that she might live.

When she hears Peeta recounting the day he fell in love with Katniss, her heart sinks. The gamemakers won’t let them both win. They can’t. President Snow simply won’t allow it. And if what they’re saying now is true, even if one of them survives…

“There’s backstory,” Haymitch muses.

Maybe he believes Seneca would do it, two victors. Or maybe he just wants her to believe that he believes. One thing about Haymitch is that he will lie, either straight up or simply omit key details to shield Y/N. Protect her at any cost, as if she were some fragile thing.

She used to hate it, until she understood. Not fragile; precious. Something more valuable than money, or secrets, even booze. If anything happened to Y/N, his world would simply stop turning. The sun would set and never rise. She is a precious commodity of extremely limited supply. She could never be replaced.

“You need medicine for that leg.” Katniss changes the topic of conversation.

“I don’t get many parachutes.” Peeta admits, though he doesn’t tell her why.

“We’ll figure something out.”

“Like what?”

“Something.” Katniss huffs, into the dimly lit cave.

“I think that was the green light on the meds for Peeta.” It’s go time. Haymitch rises from the bench, offering his hand.

This particular offering will not come cheap, it’s time for the original lovers of district twelve to do what they do best. Work an angle.

————————————————————————

“What do you mean we can’t send medicine? We’ve always been able to send medicine.”

“Not my rules, Mrs. Abernathy.” The woman behind the counter says.

“Of course not, you just work here.” Haymitch smiles.

The Capitol employee returns the gesture.

“We’ve been raising this money all day and Y/N is obviously upset that we can’t go through with sending the medicine, but we understand. Is there any information you could give us to help put our minds at ease about the condition of our tribute?”

The woman looks to Y/N now. District twelve tributes rarely make it this far and everyone is quite taken with the young lovers. Against her better judgment, she motions for Y/N to lean down toward her. “There will be an opportunity for your tribute to receive medicine tomorrow.”

“Is there anything we can send today?” Y/N asks.

“You can send soup.”

“Soup.” Haymitch repeats, with false enthusiasm. “We’ll send them soup.”

————————————————————————

“Attention tributes, commencing at dawn, there will be a feast of sorts, at the cornucopia. Each of you need something desperately and we plan to be…generous hosts.”

“And that is why we couldn’t send medicine,” Haymitch laughs, staring down at the contents of his cup.

They’re trying to wrap this up, everyone’s off in different directions. Bring them back together for one hell of a show before curtain fall.

“Five needs food. Thresh just got bread so…maybe weapons? Two needs…armor? I don’t-” Y/N presses a finger against her temple, desperate for answers.

“You feeling ok?” Haymitch’s brow furrows.

“Yes,” Y/N bites out.

Her husband reels back. It is not uncommon for Y/N to mourn tributes, even ones that aren’t theirs. It is unlike her to take it out on him.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” Y/N apologizes, immediately. Taking one of his hands in hers.

Haymitch turns his gaze to their twined fingers, she’s shaking, “when’s the last time you ate something?”

“Not hungry.”

“You need to eat,” he decides.

“Nothing tastes right.”

“Listen angel, if they’re gonna poison you, it won’t be here.”

“I must be coming down with something.” Or the stress. Despite all of this, she’s never faired well under duress.

“Probably why you puked in that lady’s ice bucket.” Haymitch notes.

“You know what does sound halfway decent?”

“Hmm?”

“Those little cream puffs with powdered sugar on top.”

Haymitch grins, “I’ll bring a plate.”

He hovers after that. Y/N can’t stand hovering, but she tolerates it. Understanding that it comes from a place of love. She didn’t mean to worry him.

Haymitch can’t sleep. Even after Y/N is out cold.

“I love you so much, Haymitch.”

She who brushes wayward hair from his eyes and runs her nose along the length of his, after the sweetest of kisses. She who believes in him and shows him each day there is a reason his life did not end in the arena. She is the best person he has ever known and he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to deserve her. To deserve that selfless, all consuming, love that she gives so freely.

“I love you forever.” Maybe even longer.

In that, at least he knows there is no cause for concern. Their marriage will not crumble, come hell or high water. Haymitch knows how badly she misses home, their children. In another life he’d ask for ten, as many as Y/N would give him.

The tiny garden, around the back of their house in victor’s village; where Everest plants carrots and other vegetables. Where Arista steals them to feed the wandering geese. The most taciturn, temperamental, creatures she can find are naturally the ones she chooses to care for.

Y/N’s syringes come like clockwork from the Capitol, every three months. Squandering any hope of tiny baby feet. Though she is the best mother, one who plays with her daughter and son, down in the dirt. A mother who loves her children more than anything.

Their lives there are a safe haven, one that exists only in their minds. There is no room for a place like that here. No safety for the children they’ve given life to. Only false hope and broken promises.

And if by some misfortune or Capitol ‘miracle’ a child should slip through, Haymitch would love them. Somehow, someway they’d all make it through. But he hopes, more than anything, that it is not now.

————————————————————————

There is no rush to the viewing room the next morning, everything the tributes need will be at the cornucopia. Katniss gets close to the bag marked ‘12’ and the girl from two is on her. Knocking her back with those damn knives.

They grapple around for a while, before landing with Clove on top. Leaving Katniss no room for escape as she holds the blade to her throat. Haymitch is seated on the bed, watching Y/N pace along the large screen in their bedroom.

Thankfully the boy from eleven takes out one of the two remaining careers. Overhearing her taunt Katniss and brag about killing his district partner.

“Just this time, twelve.” Thresh tells her, gathering his bag from the table. “For Rue.”

With that they’re off; Thresh back to solitude and Katniss to Peeta.

He’s still asleep when she arrives, waking only to the sound of her voice. “I got it. I got your medicine.”

“What happened to you?” Peeta’s eyes focus on the gash across her forehead, courtesy of Clove.

“I’m fine.” Katniss busies herself with opening the canister.

“No you’re not,” Peeta reaches up, “what happened?”

“The girl from two, she threw a knife.”

“You shouldn’t have gone, you said you weren’t gonna go.”

“You got worse.” She replies, simply. Spreading the salve over the length of his wound.

Peeta allows a small cry to pass his lips, grabbing at her wrist. “You need some of that too.”

“I’m ok.” Katniss is more worried about him.

“That feels so much better.” He sighs. “Now you need some too.”

“I’m ok.”

“No, come on. You need it too.”

“Alright.” Katniss finally agrees. Watching Peeta’s tender expression as he thumbs the cream over her injury.

When they wake to the computer generated sunrise and find their cuts have healed, the star crossed lovers set off in search of food.

Peeta to the left, foraging berries while Katniss goes to hunt. Though the separation is not ideal, his heavy footsteps would send any potential prey running. The archer is ready to score them some breakfast when the cannon sounds.

It’s for the girl from five. But Katniss doesn’t know that, so she sets off in search of Peeta.

This time, Y/N and Haymitch are down in the viewing room, overhearing the chatter around them.

“Those berries must be poisonous.”

“I hope Katniss finds him in time.”

Katniss calls out for Peeta again, colliding into him a moment later as Peeta rushes toward the sound of her voice. His fist still closed around a handful of blue berries.

“What happened? Are you ok?” Peeta wonders, holding her tightly as she trembles.

“I heard the cannon. I thought you were dead.”

The boy rests his chin against her shoulder, “I’m right here.”

Katniss pulls back to scold him, smacking the berries from his hand. “That’s nightlock, Peeta. You’d be dead in a minute!”

“I didn’t know,” he stammers.

“Scared me half to death, damn you.” Then she is hugging him again. She can’t explain it, the need to feel him close, know that he is safe.

“I’m sorry.” Peeta breathes, soothing her with a gentle hand, down the length of her back. “I’m sorry.”

When they have settled enough to keep moving, they make the discovery of the red head’s body. Her mouth stained magenta and a few berries still in hand, eyes wide and open.

“I never even knew she was following me.”

“She’s clever.” Katniss always thought so.

“Too clever.”

Katniss leans down, collecting the berries from her hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Maybe Cato likes berries too.”

It’s only half past noon when the sun sets, quickly and without warning.

“Must be in a hurry to end it.” Katniss reasons.

Y/N’s leg is bouncing faster now, vibrating almost.

Haymitch reaches out a hand, resting it atop her thigh to still it.

They wait there, in uncomfortable silence, until the sound of mutts causes Y/N to jump. Even Haymitch flinches when the animals appear, like something out of a nightmare, bits of the fallen tributes mixed in.

They take Thresh, tearing him to pieces and Y/N doesn’t fight when Haymitch wraps her up in his arms. Making a place for herself in his lap, legs dangling over the side of his, not caring if she is heavy. He of course, doesn’t mind, pressing a kiss to the underside her jaw.

Cato is waiting at the top of the cornucopia. When Peeta and Katniss inevitably end up there, the three of them have it out. With Cato’s arm around Peeta’s neck, Katniss is left with no good choices. If she shoots the career’s hand where Peeta is pointing and she misses… But if she doesn’t shoot, he’ll kill Peeta anyway. She takes a deep breath and lets the arrow fly.

Cato’s death is a quick one, a mercy he may not have shown with roles reversed. But it is over, leaving just the tributes from district twelve. Gone is the shadow of night, the sun returning to illuminate the finale.

“Attention, tributes, attention, there’s been a slight rule change.”

Katniss draws her bow, fearing that they are somehow not alone.

Haymitch shifts, bracing himself.

“The previous revision allowing two victors from the same district has been…revoked. Only one may be crowned. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor.”

Katniss and Peeta turn back to one another.

“Go ahead.” Peeta insists, “one of us should go home. One of us has to die, they have to have their victor.”

“No,” Katniss tosses her weapon down, stepping over it to close the space between them. “They don’t. Why should they?” She pulls the nightlock from her pocket.

“No,” Peeta covers her hand with his own.

“Trust me.” Katniss whispers, “trust me.”

And Peeta does, accepting the berries into his palm.

Haymitch lets out a breath, patting the outside of Y/N’s thigh, affectionately. “You did it.” He murmurs, “there’s your victors.” Even though it isn’t fair, even though there will be nothing to show for it. They won.

Y/N leans farther into his embrace. Wishing more than anything for the chance to tell Peeta that she is proud and to tell Katniss…

“Together?” The boys asks.

“Together,” Katniss repeats.

“Ok. One.” Peeta runs his fingertips down the length of her braid.

“Two.”

“Three.”

Together they raise the poison toward their lips.

“Stop.” A voice rings through the arena, “stop! Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the winners of the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games.”

For this, the four of them will surely be punished.

Part 8

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[delicateflowerss]

Don't Worry, Darling: Six

After marrying the love of your life, Rafe Cameron, you thought you couldn't be happier. But when a murder shakes the island, you learn you don't know your husband as well as you thought. When does Paradise become Hell?

Warnings: 18+, DUB-CON kissing, MURDER, violence, blood, dark!Rafe, kook!reader, non-canon ages

I know it's been a little while but I'm excited to be back writing this series. Enjoy the new chapter <3

Word Count: 2.7k

Series Masterlist

If someone had told you at twelve years old that you would end up marrying Rafe Cameron, you would have thought they were telling you the worst joke you had ever heard.

It’s not like you had anything against him.

You just couldn’t picture him having a girlfriend, let alone getting married one day.

He was always so brash, so arrogant, his friends matching his attitude.

As you got older, you knew too many girls who fell for the act. It always ended the same, with their hearts broken and Rafe walking away unscathed.

It made you push down any crush you might have had on him, deciding it was best to guard your heart.

You didn’t think he would be the one to chase you, something he never did.

It was the last party of the summer before senior year of high school. You remember every detail about that night, deciding it was fated.

You had gone in expecting a fun night with your friends. Except, as the night wore on, you ended up being separated from them.

You decided to rest on an empty couch, letting your head fall against the wall behind you.

The alcohol wasn’t enough, and you couldn’t help but wonder if parties were even worth it.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt someone sit beside you.

“I told Kelce he should have gotten the keg. This party would’ve been ten times better.”

It took you a moment to realize Rafe was talking to you.

“The party’s not bad,” you finally replied.

He stared at you, almost like he was waiting for you to say something else. Then he chuckled.

“No point in being polite. The party sucks, you can say it. I won’t tell him.” He said honestly before smirking into his cup, taking a sip.

You disagreed again but you both could tell you were lying, fighting a smile on your strained lips.

“Come on,” he tried again. “You’re the prettiest girl here and you’re sitting alone. That tells me all I need to know.”

You still remember how hot your cheeks got at the compliment, and how you lost the battle, finally breaking into a grin.

The two of you ended up chatting for hours. It surprised you that he would rather talk to you than party with his friends.

You worried he would forget about you once the night was over.

But that wasn’t the case at all.

You never left his thoughts again.

Now, all you can think about is if that night was the wrong kind of fated.

You close your eyes, still lost in the memory. You wish you could stay there forever with that Rafe.

The Rafe who looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. The Rafe who felt like the only person at that party who understood you. The Rafe who would never hurt you or anyone else.

Or so you thought.

But he’s always been like this, hasn’t he?

The day has been a blur since you found the blood on Rafe’s shoe.

Your eyes are red, and your voice is hoarse from sobbing.

Anytime you try to think of what to do next, you break down in tears again.

So, you find yourself glued to a chair in the living room. You’re not sure if you’re waiting for him to get home or for someone to shake you awake, telling you this was all just a nightmare.

What could you even say to him?

The sound of the gunshot still echoes off each corner of his mind.

“Shit. Shit,” Rafe hisses, pushing the palms of his hands into his eyes.

He lets out a heavy sigh as his arms fall back to his sides. His eyes find the body lying on the floor.

He quickly looks away, not able to stare at Jake in a pool of his own blood for too long.

He can’t go back to the marshes. The police have been patrolling it since they found Chase.

They’re just waiting for him to fuck up again.

He wracks his brain for another option before landing on the most obvious.

A perk of living on an island and he can’t believe he didn’t think of it sooner.

The only problem is his boat is docked at the marina. He can’t be sure he won’t be seen.

But what other choice does he have?

He can do it. He’ll just need a couple things from home to make sure the body he’s carrying doesn’t look like one.

He checks his phone again, silently noting how there’s still no response from you.

At least it’s late enough for you to already be asleep.

That’s what he’s counting on.

The noises outside your house sound muffled, as if it were a scream being quieted by a pillow.

You don’t register Rafe is home until he’s unlocking the front door.

Watching him walk slowly, you don’t move a muscle. He must think you are asleep upstairs.

The moment his eyes spot you in the corner of the living room, they widen. And as he steps closer to you, you try to stop your lip from trembling.

“Baby, why are you up?” he asks, feigning casualty before stopping just a couple feet in front of you, finally seeing you fully in the low lamplight.

His hair is messy like he’s been running his hands through it.

“Y/N?”

The worry in his voice makes the cracks in your heart feel deeper.

But even through your blurry vision, you notice the red staining his hands.

Alarms ring loudly in your head as you shoot up out of your chair.

It takes him a second to realize what your eyes keep flitting to. He looks down like he’s just seeing it for the first time too.

Dragging his eyes to you, he shakily says, “it’s not what it looks like, Y/N. I can explain.”

Even if you could think of something to say, you’re not sure your mouth would allow it. All you can do is stare at him. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him have such a dark and fragmented look in his eyes.

It scares you.

You begin to realize waiting for him was a bad idea. You should have left, took his shoe to the police station.

But that would mean sending the man you love to his death.

You think he doesn’t notice your feet starting to move toward the front door before deciding to make a run for it.

Even if he falters, he’s still faster than you.

Just before you can touch the doorknob, you’re being pulled away, fingers tight around your arm.

“Y/N, just listen to me, alright? I-I didn’t have a choice,” he desperately begins.

His harsh grasp forces you to listen to him, but you refuse to look at him. You keep your head twisted away from him, eyes looking anywhere else.

“He was coming after me. He was telling everyone that I,” he stops himself, biting his bottom lip instead.

“He wasn’t going to stop,” he continues. “No matter what he said. I could tell he was lying right to my face.”

He swallows, still staring at your turned head.

“Look at me.”

When you don’t you can feel him squeeze your arm tighter.

You still don’t budge, so he hooks a finger under your chin, and you’re surprised to find that his eyes are just as glassy as yours. You want to recoil from the smell of copper coming from his hand. But you keep your gaze on him, finding stormy blue eyes, like dark clouds rolling over the ocean.

“I did this for us. Because I love you and I want to be with you forever,” he struggles out, tears falling freely down his cheeks as he blinks.

You almost get the feeling he’s not only talking about whatever violent act he just committed.

“So that guy from last night is…” Your voice is raw like a fresh wound being picked at. “You…”

“I had to,” he finishes for you.

You can’t help but screw your eyes shut, wishing to be anywhere but here.

“What about Chase?” you finally ask the question that has been on your mind all day.

A weary sigh leaves Rafe as his grasp of you loosens.

“It’s not like I wanted to.”

“But you did,” you say firmly. “What did he ever do to you?”

The silence is deafening before he eventually answers you.

“He was going to get promoted before me.”

His voice is quiet, saying it out loud for the first time.

You’re able to step away from him, looking around like you can’t believe what you just heard.

Rafe watches your reaction, quickly defending himself.

“He was going to get the promotion I rightfully deserved,” he says louder.

Your chest is starting to feel tighter as you stumble back from him.

“You-You killed someone over a fucking promotion?” you practically yell out, brows pulled together.

“I deserved that promotion way more than him.” He jabs his finger into his chest. “It’s not my fault he was such a kiss-ass to my dad.”

You shake your head like you can stop the words coming out of his mouth with a simple movement of your head. A new wave of tears has started to run down your cheeks.

You feel him step closer to you, taking your hands in his.

“I know I fucked up, okay? But we’re in this together now and-.”

“No, we’re not,” you interrupt, tearing your hands away from him. “Something’s wrong with you, Rafe. And I can’t be a part of this.”

He winces, face twisting up like you punched him in the gut.

“Y/N-.”

“No, Rafe. You need to leave,” you say, pointing to the door.

He shakes his head before falling to the floor. You flinch a little when his knees hit the hardwood.

“I can’t do this without you,” he says through falling tears. “I can’t be here without you.”

He gazes up at you and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so…crumpled.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for doing this to you. I don’t know why or how it got this bad.” His voice is thick, the words struggling to come out through his ragged breaths. “I don’t know why I do things like that. I just-. I lose control.”

You swallow down the emotion that’s starting to rise out of you. You feel those cracks in your chest splitting apart even further.

“I need you, Y/N. More than I’ll ever need anyone.”

You feel him wrap his arms around your waist, burying his face into your stomach, finding comfort in your warmth and scent.

“Please.” His voice fractures around the word.

You feel like the breath has been taken out of you as your next instinct is to tangle your fingers in the dirty blond strands of his hair.

You can feel the sobs still wracking his body as his tears stain your clothes. He holds you closer to him, tighter.

In all the years you’ve known Rafe, you’ve never seen him like this. Not even close.

It’s like he kneels at your feet, repenting his sins, wanting you to wash them all away.

But as far as you know, you’re not the one he should be asking for forgiveness from.

You wish you could say you don’t love him anymore. Isn’t murder enough to rid all feelings for a person?

Instead, you feel sick with pity for him. If you could, you would erase all his pain even if he doesn’t deserve it.

That sickness is what wins in the tug-of-war of your heart.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper softly enough where you wonder if he even hears you.

But he does, moving to look up at you like you’re the saint here to save him, his face red from crying.

“I need your help.”

Regret fills you as you watch Rafe tape a sheet around the body in the back of his truck.

He covered him the best he could with what he had before he drove home.

You almost vomit, seeing the lifeless body, knowing your husband is responsible for it.

But there’s no going back now.

You thought the next time you and Rafe went out on the boat would be for a date night, something romantic.

You would’ve never guessed it would be for this twisted reason.

The world feels still when you two pull up to the marina, like you’re the only ones that exist in the dead of this night.

The smell of sea salt is carried through the air by the ocean breeze. It’s not something you notice, instead too focused on helping your husband carry the dead body to your boat.

You’ll miss the delights of life because of him, letting it pass you by because you’re too busy cleaning up Rafe’s messes.

He does most of the heavy lifting, your muscles screaming under the weight.

You make it to the boat, stumbling until you both can set the body down.

Footsteps ring out before you can completely catch your breath.

Rafe’s wide eyes meet yours before you look down the dock. You find a man walking with a flashlight, coming right toward you.

“Rafe,” you loudly whisper before he shushes you, racing toward Jake’s covered body.

He motions for you to help him move it, shifting it out of eyesight, covering the body shaped lump even more.

By the time the man shines his flashlight onto the two of you, you’re both standing in front of the body, trying to act like you’re not hiding the evidence of a murder.

“Is everything alright over here?”

You notice the security guard uniform he’s wearing as you don’t even realize he asked a question.

“A bit late for a trip out on the boat,” he comments.

You squint when he shines his flashlight right into your eyes.

Rafe glances at you and you’re already regretting what he’s about to say.

“That’s what’s great about the ocean, no closing time,” he deadpans.

The security guard doesn’t find it funny, instead shining his flashlight directly into Rafe’s eyes.

“Can I see some identification?”

Your teeth pierce your bottom lip as Rafe rolls his eyes, digging into his pocket for his wallet.

While he’s waiting for Rafe to find his license, you watch the stoic man look around the boat.

You don’t get seasick, but the slight sway of the docked boat combined with your nerves makes your stomach twist into knots.

His flashlight shines onto the body behind you.

He stops for a second, eyes catching onto the unidentifiable lump.

You think you can taste bile on your tongue.

Before he can say anything else, Rafe shoves his license into the security guard’s hand, forcing him to look at it.

“Here. It’s my boat if that’s what you’re worried about. You can check the paperwork.”

You can see the recognition light up the man’s eyes like electricity when he looks at Rafe’s license.

He glances at Rafe again before handing the license back to him.

“I apologize, Mr. Cameron. You have a good night. Be safe out there.”

Rafe just nods, a lazy smirk adorning his lips as the man leaves.

His last name can get him out of anything. Even jail.

If it felt like it was only you and Rafe in the world earlier, now it really feels like you two are the last people on Earth.

It’s you, him and the vast ocean that surrounds you. There isn’t another person in sight.

You wish you could say it’s calming but you feel a relentless gnawing in the pit of your stomach.

There isn’t a moment of peace for you until Jake’s body is overboard.

You watch him fall into the deep blue, sinking until you can’t see him anymore. You don’t think you ever even said a word to him when he was alive.

Now you’re here, tethering his soul to the bottom of the ocean.

You realize the sun is rising, the sky now a blend of blue and orange.

A new day is beginning, but you feel so stuck.

Rafe’s fingers grazing your hand interrupts your thoughts.

He’s usually the one to get you out of your head.

He’s also the reason why you’re constantly worrying in the first place.

“I love you,” he simply says.

When you turn your head to face him, you’re met with a kiss.

It feels different, like burning your hand on the stove. You want to quickly pull away.

But he brings his hand to your cheek, holding you there.

And you let him.

There isn’t much of a fight left in you.

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